Author's Note: I was so moved by all of the follows/favorites, that I went ahead and wrote the next chapter. *Note that Donovan is inspired by actor Tim Robbins.
PorcelainPuppetLady: Here's your update and the answer to your question is in the story ;). So thrilled to know that you love the story. Oh, and by the way, I adore your username. It makes me want to write a Scarecrow Fan-Fic.
Ngome055: I'm glad you enjoy the story. I too find it best when Evan plays a villain; he does it so well, truly he becomes the character he is playing. And thank you for the comments on my leading lady. I'm going to have to make her a real tough cookie to put up with March as well as interesting. I think it will be quite enjoyable to see how their relationship progresses over the course of the story.
Ariedling: Thanks for your comment. I'm happy you like the story!
An Impromptu Scene
It became apparent to him that he had been snubbed; dismissed expertly on the false promise of a possible chance encounter.
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't the host himself say that she was the houses own?"
Setting his brandy on the table, Kate gave a quick shake of her head. "No, you don't understand." Placing her tray under her arm, she tucked a loose honey blonde curl behind her ear, blue eyes right on James when she explained. "Rosa isn't a headliner; she doesn't even work here! When Vick called her the houses own it's because she grew up around these parts." When he remained silent she rambled on. "The only reason she was here last week was at Vicks request. Kind of like a special show for those who know about her. That's why it was so crowded. She's got talent, but she doesn't live for the limelight. You wouldn't believe it, but she's actually a..."
"Kate," the bartender called. When he caught her eye, he motioned to the drinks which were piling up.
"Ugh, have to go. Enjoy your drink honey."
The minute she was out of his sight James tightened his grip on his cane, eyes flashing. It was a rookie mistake. Interest piqued by Rosaline he had come back to see her. Not right away mind you, as it would have shown too much eagerness, but he had waited a week. So high, in fact, was the feeling he received from her that he had himself a little spree, a feast before hibernation. But that was all for naught.
Staring off into the distance he envisioned her wagging tongue nailed to his office desk. 'Perhaps another time,' she told him. He balled his hand into a tight fist, knuckles cracking as he remembered her words. And to think he was willing to wait before murdering her, a rare kindness in itself, but that thought was long gone now that the bitch had spurned him.
Reaching for his glass he heard the soft crack as a hairline fracture formed. Not caring if it shattered or remained whole he brought the glass to his lips and drained it in one shot.
"Kate!"
Her name was said with so much force that she immediately stopped what she was doing and went over to him. "W-what do you...?" She broke off when his eyes clashed with hers. His eyes weren't their usual dark brown, but had darkened considerably to appear like onyx; the only light in them a reflection of the lamps above.
"I told you to keep an eye on me," he bit out, voice still polite yet lethal. "How can you perform your basic duties if you cannot adhere to that one simple task? More still you continue to serve on the right when it should be the left!" When she opened her mouth to speak he held up his hand for silence. "Bring me another drink—a double—and do not make the same mistake of making me wait again." When she continued to stare at him, paralyzed by the ferocity of his words he lifted his cane and smacked it down hard on the ground causing her to jump. Moving faster than lightening she made to brush past him, saw flames leap into his eyes and quickly went back to retrieve his empty glass.
The glass shattered as soon as she touched it. "S-sorry," she apologized, voice trembling as she used her napkin to wipe all the broken glass onto her tray. "Sorry."
"Hey, Kate I'll have my—goodness!" Donovan gasped, stumbling back slightly when Kate crashed into him on her sprint to the bar. "What on earth happened to her? Poor girl looks scared half to death!"
"Appropriately so," James breathed before taking a long drag of his cigarette.
Shaking his head at Kates rattled state Donovan turned back around. Coming 'round the front of James table, he found the young man once more dressed richly in another suit with not a hair out of place. "Hello James," Donovan greeted warmly, completely oblivious or quite possibly ignorant of James' foul mood. "Would it be alright if I join you tonight?"
"Be my guest," he answered, motioning to the empty chair beside him with a wave of his hand.
Settling comfortably in his seat Donovan turned his attention to James. "Nice to see you back. You must like the music."
Blinking James eyes flickered over to the band. They weren't terrible, however, they weren't exceptional either. "It's fitting."
Kate, remembering James not so subtle reprimand, appropriately severed both men on the left. "Well, that's new," Donovan remarked as she left.
The difference was like night and day. The first night James had been quite the chatterbox and lively. Now he was silent. Stealing glances at him from the corner of his eyes Donovan wondered if everything was alright. He didn't look angry or even the slightest bit perturbed, in fact, he was simply still. So still he could have passed for a figurine. It was unnerving to the old man. "Everything alright son?"
"Yes, of course."
The stage curtain fluttered and dark eyes flew to it. Donovan saw it. Saw that brief light go on in their depths before it was properly extinguished. "Were you hoping to see Rosa?"
At that, James took a sip of his drink. The simple reminder of his blunder made him silently vow to massacre everyone if her sporadic visits were mentioned again.
"Had you asked I would have told you..."
Alright, maybe not everyone in this place deserved to die. Turning his attention to him, he asked, "Told me what?"
"That she doesn't perform regularly." The threat was back on. "That last show," he went on to say, "It was more of a gift."
"What do you mean?" James inquired further, putting out his cigarette as his interest was caught.
"Well..."
Time slowed down and sped up as James found himself sitting with one leg crossed over the other, hand under his chin, listening with rapt fascination to Donovan's tale. Isabelle, Rosaline's mother, had come to Los Angeles with nothing. After becoming a waitress, she worked at the club for years until one day the owner caught her singing. She had a knack for mixing the classics with her native songs. Though she didn't become Hollywood's next starlet she had gained a small following. In that following was the man who would become Rosaline's father, Eduardo Cortez.
"He was a good man. Did everything for his family."
"So what happened to him?" James inquired next.
Donovan went on to tell him that the old owner like to cut corners. Didn't matter what it was: watered down drinks, broken equipment, or a quick fix to the building, he did it all. One night when Isabelle was performing they heard a noise. It was subtle at first, but then it grew. A creak-creak-creaking. Before they knew it the floor began to buckle.
It was a domino effect. The floor buckled putting added pressure on old beams and braces until it all came down. Everyone rushed out into the street.
Through the midst of the rubble, Isabelle shouted for Eduardo. The floor had opened up right where he was standing, the poor man didn't have a chance.
"For years, Isabelle wouldn't come to the club. Victor, the host, he used to sneak in when he was a kid. When he got older he bought the property at the same time Rosaline graduated from college." A grin came to his face then. "Everyone thought that because their music was in her blood Rosa would be a performer like her mother, but she didn't go that route. She's an engineer."
Dazzling light filtered through James' eyes. An engineer. Oh, if only engineers in his time had looked like her, he would have killed more of them.
"She got herself a job as an inspector and together they fixed the club. Fixed it right. Indie artists came into town and put our little place back on the map! And that show last week, it was the anniversary of the remodel which is why Rosa came to sing."
"How do you know all of this?"
"I've been coming here for years. Matter of fact, it was through Isabelle that I met my wife. The two of 'em are practically sisters, why Rosa even calls Evette tia and me her tio!"
That was it. Donovan was his foot in the door. And damn it all if he wasn't going to kick it wide open.
"Well, that was an excellent tale," James exclaimed suddenly. "Such callousness by the owner and the heightened despair wrought from the death of a lover. I thoroughly enjoyed that!" Turning around, he eyed the crowd quickly spotting Kate. "Kate! Another round of drinks please, thank you."
"Oh, I couldn't," Donovan told him, waving his hands for added emphasis. "I have a two drink maximum."
When Kate approached the table James removed the drinks himself placing one in front of Donovan. "This is a celebration, Don! Good stories and conversation shared between men in their prime," he told him earning a laugh. "Now drink up. One more won't hurt."
Like all temptation, his offer was sweet. So Donovan took the drink in good cheer. It was to be the first of several.
...
White smoke filtered around him. Resting back in his chair James took Donovan in with an amused grin. The man was smashed. Thoroughly so. Despite his incessant need to chatter, he was not an obnoxious drunk or even belligerent, but a rare drunk who still had most of his faculties.
"Ah, ah, ah," James said, removing the whiskey bottle from his hands. "You've had plenty, old boy."
Resting his elbows on the table, Donovan looked at him with tired bloodshot eyes. "Y-you remind me of Gary Clark," he confessed. "It's the way you t-talk."
Smiling wide James shook his head. "I'm afraid I don't know him."
"The Misfits!" Donovan told him, voice implying that James was dense to not know the actor. "Boom Town. Gone with the... Gone with the..."
"The wind," he corrected. "Gone with the Wind and you mean Clark Gable, not Gary Clark."
Rubbing his hand at his whiskered chin, Donovan nodded his head. That name did sound better. "Yeah," he murmured. "You might be right."
Judging that Donovan was now more pliable and thus likely to give all the information of Rosaline that he required, he made his move. "So tell me..."
"How long you been married?"
Caught off guard by the comment James stared at the man in shock. So surprised was he that he looked over his shoulder wondering if the man was so far gone as to see things that weren't there. "I'm afraid I..." James stopped mid-sentence when Donovan's eyes flickered down to his hand.
The thin gold band glittered in the light. Looking at the ring on his finger James saw her. Images of his wife flashed so fast in his mind that he couldn't stop them. It wasn't a marriage formed out of love, but camaraderie. To put it plainly, two dark souls had found one another and joined in marriage their union, not promising love, good cheer, and fidelity but a life of debauchery, loyalty, and most importantly secrecy.
"I've worn this ring for so long that sometimes I forget it's even on my finger," he spoke honestly, voice barely above a whisper.
"Did she die?"
The softly spoken inquiry broke him out of his trance. Snapping his gaze off the ring, James stared into sky blue eyes. "Y-yes," he answered, needing to cough to clear his voice as it cracked. "Yes," he repeated more firmly. "She did die."
Something strange happened. He opened up, sharing a part of himself he never talked about. "My wife—her name was Elizabeth. She was... She was beautiful," he told him, a faraway look coming into his eyes. "Had a way about her that I had never seen, like she was above the crowd—above everyone. That's how she got me; looked me over and walked right on by," he reminisced with a smile. "I courted her. Married her shortly after and we were happy. But then..." James lost his smile. "...She became ill. A virus. No one knew what it was or where it came from and they still don't..."
"Here, take this."
James stared down at the crumpled napkin in Donovan's hand, not understanding. He opened his mouth to ask what it was for but then he felt something trail down his cheek. His cane clattered to go ground as his hand flew up to his face. Pulling back his hand, he saw his fingers glisten. What is this?
"F-forgive me. I don't know what's come over me."
It was a sad sight indeed. Donovan stared at James, watched as he wiped at his eyes with a handkerchief. He had started crying from the very beginning, only Donovan thought he was aware of it. Obviously, he was not.
"I'm sorry," Donovan apologized, blue eyes sorrowful. "I didn't mean to bring it up, kid. Really. I'm sorry."
James waved his apology away with is hand. "It's fine. It's not your fault really," he said, forcing a smile. "It's good to remember. It helps." Pausing James folded his handkerchief, his eyes downcast. "It was just nice to forget is all," he continued, voice lowering to a smooth gentle whisper. "To see someone who could finally move me for once."
"Rosa?"
James nodded his head.
Maybe it was because James looked so damned sad and sounded so sincere or maybe it was because Donovan himself was just good and drunk, but whatever the reason he decided to give the boy a chance. "Don't beat yourself up. I k-know Rosa. I can tell you where she likes to spend her free time."
"Really?" James asked, that light creeping back into his eyes. "I mean I don't want to put you out of your way or make you fall out of favor with her."
"Son I can tell you're a good man. I know you are. And there's no doubt that you loved your wife, but the way you looked at Rosa... That was the same way I looked at my wife when I saw her for the first time," he told him slightly slurring his words, the liquor in full effect. "Now there's a place in..."
As Donovan proceeded to tell him about an upcoming event, James hid his grin from behind his handkerchief. How easy it was to play on soft hearts. It only took a few tears and then they were yours.
