Title: A Night at Callahan's
Chapter 1: Getting Ready
The Setup: What if Vaughn and Weiss met up with Sydney, Francie and Tricks at Callahan's Tavern? This takes place after Sydney's mother is exposed as the KGB agent who killed Vaughn's father.
Rating: PG-13 for language, maybe a stronger rating later for "actions"
Feedback: Yes, please. This is the first story I've written since high school (Yikes!)
Vaughn's CIA office
Michael Vaughn sat in his office rolling an old 5 Francs coin over and over between his index and middle fingers. It was his "lucky" coin. The coin his father had given him years ago before he left on his final mission. It was the coin Vaughn used whenever he wanted confirmation that a decision he made was correct. Should I buy Sydney a Christmas gift? Heads yes, tails no. Should I break up with Alice? Heads yes, tails no. Somehow it always turned up heads.
Eric Weiss stuck his head into Vaughn's office. "Come on it's quitting time," Weiss said. "I'm taking you out and getting you stinking drunk. So drunk as a matter of fact, that you'll forget about every shitty thing that's happened today. Forget about what Sydney's mother did to your father. Forget about getting your head shrunk by the CIA's top doc. Hell, you'll wake up tomorrow so confused you'll think SD-6 is a new rap group."
Vaughn flipped the coin. Heads. "Callahan's?" he asked expectantly.
"Callahan's," Weiss confirmed with a wide smile.
Sydney's apartment
Sydney sat on the couch in her living room sipping from a tall glass containing vodka and tonic. She was normally a wine drinker, but knew that after one glass of merlot she'd be out like a light. And tonight she wanted to stay up and get good and drunk. She wanted to run the events that transpired earlier in the day over and over in her head and maybe make some sense out of what she learned. How was it possible that in just a few short moments she had gone from having the most perfect mother in the world to having the most horrible mother ever conceived? A killing machine for the KGB. A woman who murdered 25 CIA agents, including Vaughn's father. Sydney didn't know why it was so much harder for her to accept the fact that it was her mother and not her father that was the cold blooded assassin. Well, she thought to herself morosely, I've got a bottle of vodka and all night to figure that one out.
Meanwhile Francie was frantically rushing around the apartment she and Sydney shared. "Syd, where are my good-to-go jeans? Syd? Sydney, you hoo, are you listening?
Sydney's jerked her hand and spilled some of her drink down the front of her T-shirt. "What?" she replied, snapping out of her reverie.
"I asked if you'd seen my favorite jeans. Hip huggers, frayed hems, sinfully tight. Ring any bells for you?"
"Oh, yeah," Sydney replied as she tried to blot out the wetness from her shirt. "You washed them last night after dinner. Did you remember to put them in the dryer?"
"Put them in the dry--?" Francie began and then let out a screech as she ran for the laundry room off the kitchen. "Balls," she lamented "I forgot to put this stuff in the dryer. Now everything smells like feet and mildew. I'll have to re-wash the load and then dry it." She came back into the living room and stood next to Sydney. "We don't have that kind of time," she continued. "What am I going to do? I need those jeans."
"Why do you need your good-to-go jeans Francie?" Sydney asked curiously. "You only wear them when we go to Callahan's."
"Duh, earth to Syd. We're going to Callahan's tonight. Remember? It's our annual girls night out." Francie stood with her arms akimbo, a disapproving look on her face. "We've been planning this for weeks now. We're meeting Tricks there. Does any of this ring a bell with you?"
"Vaguely," Sydney replied biting the nail on her left thumb. She thought back to last year. Danny always teased her about this annual outing. "Callahan's is such a den of iniquity," he'd say in his proper English accent. He never quite "got" the magic of the overly loud, overly crowded, overly smoky tavern. "You only go there so you can rub up against strangers," he said to her on more than one occasion. A smile then crept across Sydney's face. That was Tricks' famous line. The place was always crowded and inevitably, when you tried to move, you ended up rubbing against someone. Danny knew it was harmless fun, and he never failed to tease her about it.
"Francie I'm not in any mood to.....," Sydney began.
"What do you mean you're not in any mood? Girl, you've already started drinking, I thought for sure you were trying to get a head start on the night."
"Francie," Sydney said wearily, "I had one bitch of a day. I'm thinking about faking my own death just so I can have some down time. I just want to sit here tonight and get comfortably numb."
Francie's tone turned from light to compassionate. "I'm sorry Syd," and with that she took a seat on the couch. "I know you've been under a lot of stress, both at work and with your dad, but if you don't do something completely mindless you're going to pop a blood vessel or something. Remember how much fun we had last year? Remember how you grabbed the microphone from DJ Cal and started singing Ain't No Mountain High Enough like you were Diana Ross and BOTH Supremes?"
Sydney face turned crimson at that memory and she held her drink up against her cheek. "Oh Francie I had completely forgotten. How completely embarrassing was that?"
"It was totally embarrassing," Francie joked, "but the memory of it snapped you out of your mood didn't it?" Francie finished with a slight hint of smugness. "And more memories such as this are awaiting you tonight."
"OK, OK you're right, I need to get out and Callahan's is the perfect place for me to forget what ails me."
"That's the spirit," Francie said as she grabbed Sydney's hand and pulled her up off the couch. "Now come on and help me find a replacement for my good-to-go pants."
"Who cares about you and your pants needs?" Sydney asked in mock disgust, "what about me and my pants needs? I've got nothing but boring business suits in my closet."
"Don't worry," Francie said as she pulled Sydney into the bedroom, "I've got just the thing that will have all the men wanting to rub up against you tonight!"
another chapter is in the works!
Chapter 1: Getting Ready
The Setup: What if Vaughn and Weiss met up with Sydney, Francie and Tricks at Callahan's Tavern? This takes place after Sydney's mother is exposed as the KGB agent who killed Vaughn's father.
Rating: PG-13 for language, maybe a stronger rating later for "actions"
Feedback: Yes, please. This is the first story I've written since high school (Yikes!)
Vaughn's CIA office
Michael Vaughn sat in his office rolling an old 5 Francs coin over and over between his index and middle fingers. It was his "lucky" coin. The coin his father had given him years ago before he left on his final mission. It was the coin Vaughn used whenever he wanted confirmation that a decision he made was correct. Should I buy Sydney a Christmas gift? Heads yes, tails no. Should I break up with Alice? Heads yes, tails no. Somehow it always turned up heads.
Eric Weiss stuck his head into Vaughn's office. "Come on it's quitting time," Weiss said. "I'm taking you out and getting you stinking drunk. So drunk as a matter of fact, that you'll forget about every shitty thing that's happened today. Forget about what Sydney's mother did to your father. Forget about getting your head shrunk by the CIA's top doc. Hell, you'll wake up tomorrow so confused you'll think SD-6 is a new rap group."
Vaughn flipped the coin. Heads. "Callahan's?" he asked expectantly.
"Callahan's," Weiss confirmed with a wide smile.
Sydney's apartment
Sydney sat on the couch in her living room sipping from a tall glass containing vodka and tonic. She was normally a wine drinker, but knew that after one glass of merlot she'd be out like a light. And tonight she wanted to stay up and get good and drunk. She wanted to run the events that transpired earlier in the day over and over in her head and maybe make some sense out of what she learned. How was it possible that in just a few short moments she had gone from having the most perfect mother in the world to having the most horrible mother ever conceived? A killing machine for the KGB. A woman who murdered 25 CIA agents, including Vaughn's father. Sydney didn't know why it was so much harder for her to accept the fact that it was her mother and not her father that was the cold blooded assassin. Well, she thought to herself morosely, I've got a bottle of vodka and all night to figure that one out.
Meanwhile Francie was frantically rushing around the apartment she and Sydney shared. "Syd, where are my good-to-go jeans? Syd? Sydney, you hoo, are you listening?
Sydney's jerked her hand and spilled some of her drink down the front of her T-shirt. "What?" she replied, snapping out of her reverie.
"I asked if you'd seen my favorite jeans. Hip huggers, frayed hems, sinfully tight. Ring any bells for you?"
"Oh, yeah," Sydney replied as she tried to blot out the wetness from her shirt. "You washed them last night after dinner. Did you remember to put them in the dryer?"
"Put them in the dry--?" Francie began and then let out a screech as she ran for the laundry room off the kitchen. "Balls," she lamented "I forgot to put this stuff in the dryer. Now everything smells like feet and mildew. I'll have to re-wash the load and then dry it." She came back into the living room and stood next to Sydney. "We don't have that kind of time," she continued. "What am I going to do? I need those jeans."
"Why do you need your good-to-go jeans Francie?" Sydney asked curiously. "You only wear them when we go to Callahan's."
"Duh, earth to Syd. We're going to Callahan's tonight. Remember? It's our annual girls night out." Francie stood with her arms akimbo, a disapproving look on her face. "We've been planning this for weeks now. We're meeting Tricks there. Does any of this ring a bell with you?"
"Vaguely," Sydney replied biting the nail on her left thumb. She thought back to last year. Danny always teased her about this annual outing. "Callahan's is such a den of iniquity," he'd say in his proper English accent. He never quite "got" the magic of the overly loud, overly crowded, overly smoky tavern. "You only go there so you can rub up against strangers," he said to her on more than one occasion. A smile then crept across Sydney's face. That was Tricks' famous line. The place was always crowded and inevitably, when you tried to move, you ended up rubbing against someone. Danny knew it was harmless fun, and he never failed to tease her about it.
"Francie I'm not in any mood to.....," Sydney began.
"What do you mean you're not in any mood? Girl, you've already started drinking, I thought for sure you were trying to get a head start on the night."
"Francie," Sydney said wearily, "I had one bitch of a day. I'm thinking about faking my own death just so I can have some down time. I just want to sit here tonight and get comfortably numb."
Francie's tone turned from light to compassionate. "I'm sorry Syd," and with that she took a seat on the couch. "I know you've been under a lot of stress, both at work and with your dad, but if you don't do something completely mindless you're going to pop a blood vessel or something. Remember how much fun we had last year? Remember how you grabbed the microphone from DJ Cal and started singing Ain't No Mountain High Enough like you were Diana Ross and BOTH Supremes?"
Sydney face turned crimson at that memory and she held her drink up against her cheek. "Oh Francie I had completely forgotten. How completely embarrassing was that?"
"It was totally embarrassing," Francie joked, "but the memory of it snapped you out of your mood didn't it?" Francie finished with a slight hint of smugness. "And more memories such as this are awaiting you tonight."
"OK, OK you're right, I need to get out and Callahan's is the perfect place for me to forget what ails me."
"That's the spirit," Francie said as she grabbed Sydney's hand and pulled her up off the couch. "Now come on and help me find a replacement for my good-to-go pants."
"Who cares about you and your pants needs?" Sydney asked in mock disgust, "what about me and my pants needs? I've got nothing but boring business suits in my closet."
"Don't worry," Francie said as she pulled Sydney into the bedroom, "I've got just the thing that will have all the men wanting to rub up against you tonight!"
another chapter is in the works!