Disclaimer: I still don't own Cowboy bebop so don't sue. I also don't own "You Gotta Do" which comes from the excellent Song of Singapore. If you can, try and get a copy cos the songs Rose sings are really perfect as character songs for Faye, and yes I will be using the sad "I can't remember" later on. I also don't own the title, which is a shameless rip-off of the black and white film of the same name. It just kinda fitted.
Authors note: And the plot gets thicker, well actually not yet. Thanks for all the reviews, you've inspired me so much I've finished this part a whole week early. Yay me! Hints of the past, and if you read between the lines, hints at where this is going start to surface in this chapter.
Spike glanced over at Jet who was currently busy with the Hammerheads computer as he entered the co-ordinates for their destination.
"So where we going?"
Jet leaned back with a smile as the ships autopilot kicked in and lit a cigarette. "I told you," he answered, enjoying Spike's curiosity. "We're going to a Jazz club to try and get some leads on a bounty."
Spike let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Care to be a little more specific?"
Jet let out a chuckle and passed Spike a cigarette. "Ever heard of Romeo's?"
Spike raised an eyebrow as he sparked up and shook his head. "Nope." He let a mouthful of smoke. "Why? Should I?"
"About thirty years ago, or so the story goes, the place was little more than a smoky gin dive where bounties gathered as a refuge. Now it's a thriving Jazz club where bounties and their hunters can enjoy a quiet drink or so. Only rule is no hunting or hits are allowed to happen inside. It's a strict one. Their security team is one your red dragons would be proud of."
Spike grinned. "And the cops don't mind that all these wanted felons are hanging out and getting drunk under their noses."
Jet shook his head. "When a club's as successful as Romeo's, the cops find it pays to look the other way. Plus they serve the finest cocktails that you'll find anywhere in the galaxy."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike blinked as he stepped into smoky club. There was a large bar running down one side of the long room, which seemed quite popular. Secluded booths and small tables were scattered about the rest of the space, all facing a stage area where a group of musicians were currently tuning up. Jet scanned the area, then nodded towards the bar. "Sit down and get a drink, I'll come and find you."
Spike looked at Jet in surprise. "You don't want me to help?"
Jet shook his head and made his way down the short flight of steps. "Just have a few drinks and relax. I'll only need you later if things don't go to plan."
Spike stared at Jet's retreating back in puzzlement. There was definitely something his so-called comrade wasn't telling him. It wasn't like Jet to be so vague, but still a drink did sound good. Shrugging off his doubts Spike meandered his way over to the bar and slunk into a barstool. Almost immediately a barman appeared in front of him and placed a long glass of some noxious coloured liquid down on the bar along with an ashtray.
"What's this?" Spike asked as he squinted at the glass.
"It's called 'Gypsy's Kiss'. They're free until the show starts." The barman then wandered down to another patron who was currently waving an empty glass in the air.
Spike stared at the drink in front of him. It smelled like it was rum based, but its light colour made him suspect there was vodka in it as well. Spike shrugged and raised the glass to his lips. No point turning down free alcohol. He took a sip and coughed in surprise. This was good shit. Just then the lights dimmed and a single spotlight lit up the stage. Spike lit a cigarette and turned back to his drink, seemed like the show was going to start. Shame, he wouldn't have minded getting in a few more of these drinks.
The band let out a loud chord and Spike almost choked as he heard the clear voice which sang out.
Gather round you're gonna hear,
Some facts of life I'll make 'em clear.
I feel the spirit from within,
I'll show you losers how to win…
Slowly a figure, which had been standing in darkness, slunk forwards into the light. First a foot, bound by the thin black straps of a pair of leather stilettos appeared. It was rapidly followed by a slender ankle and the most amazingly perfect leg ever to grace a jazz stage. Spike felt his jaw drop as the rest of the singer made its way into the small pool of light. The epitome of a male's ideal female gently glided into a seductive pose and gestured with a graceful arm movement to the band.
Hit it losers.
The dress was long and black, made of a silky fabric which clung to every curve of her body and glistened in the light. A long slit cut to the thigh fell open as the hips above swayed and dipped, revealing the porcelain skin underneath. Tiny straps, barely thicker than the delicate fingers which were wrapped round a microphone, fell from her shoulders, skimming across the skin until they joined a neckline which plunged in a manner to make the most of obvious assets. Snakes of black ribbon crossed across the ample cleavage in a way that made every man long to reach out and snap them. Dark purple hair appeared almost ebony under the lights and spilled into emerald eyes lined with black kohl so they stood out dramatically against their pale backdrop. The glossy dark red lips underneath promised unsaid longings and opened as the owner sang. There was no doubt about it. It was Faye.
The drummer gave a little flourish before starting to mark the beat and the band immediately launched into a swing based number. The one small part of Spike's brain that was still able to function was vaguely aware of his fingers tapping the bar in time as he watched Faye move to the beat, shimmering under the lights as her body swayed with the music.
You gotta do just what you gotta do yeah,
You gotta do whatever gets you through that's true,
If the chips are down,
Don't be a fool,
Take a chance,
Break a rule,
Do the things you gotta do
Faye moved her fingers down the microphone stand in a suggestive embrace before unclipping it and moving back to piano. Slowly she raised one arm above her head as she slid her back down the piano, letting the skirt of her dress reveal almost all of her legs all the time swaying her hips to the infectious beat.
You gotta say what you gotta say,
You gotta preach just like it's judgement day,
And if life hands you a big surprise,
You gotta make it up,
You gotta improvise,
Say what you gotta say,
Spike dropped his cigarette as the pain of it burning down to his fingers made him look away from the stage. The throbbing sensation was enough to snap him out of his initial shock at seeing Faye. Singing in a Jazz club! Spike shook his head as he tried to rid himself of his surprise. He still couldn't get over how good she was. True, she'd had a pleasant enough voice the times he'd heard her on the ship. Despite him telling her otherwise, Spike had quite liked hearing Faye humming as she wandered round or singing quietly in the shower. But this was completely different; her voice had a seductive rich tone to it as it slid about the notes. If Faye has sung like that in the shower, Spike reflected as he downed the rest of his drink in one swallow, he'd probably have tried to break the door down.
Faye slunk her way into the audience, directing her song at various men who could hardly believe their luck as she brushed against them. Pausing at a table she reached out and teasingly caressed the face of the dumbstruck man there with the tip of a finger. Spike's eyes were jealously riveted on the gentle motion and he found himself wishing that it was him on the receiving end instead. Faye, obviously enjoying the power she had over a captive audience continued to move among them, playing with the odd tie here, flitting against a table there as she lost herself in the song.
You gotta woo who you gotta woo,
Even if you woo more than a few you do,
Now if one guy's rich,
One guy's cute,
Keep the dreamboat, and the loot
Woo woo woo, who you gotta woo
Faye turned and headed back onto the stage as the band broke out into an instrumental solo. Finally able to gain some control of his body back, once Faye had paused in her sirens song, Spike couldn't help but wonder if this was the little thing he'd sensed Jet wasn't telling him. Jet had to have known about this! And he didn't even warn him! Spike snorted and waved the barman over to get a refill. Knocking it back in one he gestured for the barman to leave the bottle as he watched Faye and the trumpet player enter into a spontaneous duet. Spike felt a peculiar feeling in his stomach as he saw how Faye and the trumpet player looked at each other, their two voices rising and falling in a musical dance, twining about each other like lovers, quicker and higher until Faye hit and sustained a long note. Quickly the song resumed, Faye's swaying hips marking time.
Okay sinners…
King David loved that Sheba
There's no one he loved more
She said 'my dear, my husbands here,
Let's send him off to war'
Salome, was no fakir,
She did what her momma said,
When she shook her moneymaker
The Baptist lost his head
Completely lost in the music Faye moved her body as the music behind her swelled to a climax. Framed in the brilliant light from above, face uplifted and eyes closed in rapture, Faye held every man watching spellbound.
You gotta do what you gotta do, yeah yeah yeah,
You gotta do whatever gets you through, that's true,
True or false
Day or night,
There are times when wrong is right
Do what you gotta do
You gotta do just what you gotta do
You gotta do just what you gotta do
The audience broke into rapturous applause as the band and Faye came to a triumphant end, hollering and stamping their wild approval. Spike felt a peculiar feeling in the bottom of his stomach as he watched her, thankfully hidden in the shadows by the bar. The long hard longing sensation he felt meant Spike had a hard time swallowing the last of his drink. Taking in a deep breath Spike stared hard as the smooth black surface of the bar in front of him. His eyes seemed to bore holes into the laminated wood as he forced the feelings to subside. Eventually he was able to breath in a slightly calmer manner, only to almost fall off his seat in shock when a hand clapped him on the back.
"So Spike, looks like I'm gonna need your help after all."
Spike glared at Jet who sat down next to him, refusing to make eye contact and sipping at a dram of whisky. Spike let out a long sigh and lit a cigarette, allowing himself a long drag before he replied. "Things not go to plan then?"
Jet shook his head, letting out a sigh. "No-one knew a damn thing. Or if they did they're not talking. One name did keep cropping up though."
Spike followed his partner's gaze and felt his insides flip. Faye. She was slouched against the piano sipping a drink as a saxophonist played a blues tune. Even though she was no longer snaking her way across the stage, Spike still felt a wrench inside him when he looked at her. Seemingly unaware of Spike's inner turmoil, Jet finished his drink and got to his feet. "Lets go and see if we can call in a favour."
Spike watched Jet as he slowly began to make his way across the floor. Spike felt like his control was at war with the sea of emotions raging through him. Unable to take his eyes off Faye, and unable to fully understand why, Spike let out a long sigh.
"She has that effect on all the guys. Voice of an angel, body of a sinner and seems to no interest in men what-so-ever."
Spike glanced at the barman who had spoken. He was looking at Spike while polishing a glass. A mixture of pity and envy played across his face before he too looked longingly as the temptress on stage. Spike rose from his seat and tipped his head towards him then made his way towards the stage quickly catching up with Jet.
Jet wound his way to the side of the stage, his imposing stature a definite advantage in getting through the crowd. Spike wandered in his wake, trying to ignore the fluttery feeling in the pit of his stomach. What are you nervous for? He mentally admonished himself. This is Faye for chrissakes! It's not like it's some woman you've seen across a crowded bar…
"Faye!" Faye turned round to face the person that had called her name. Up close her skin glistened softly under the lights, and the smell of her perfume, rich and exotic drifted about the stage. Jet grinned up at her. "Nice show tonight."
Faye's eyes narrowed as she stepped off the stage, and stepped up to meet her former comrade. "I would say it's nice to see you, but I'd be lying. What do you want Jet?"
Jet sighed dramatically and spread his arms open, his theatrics obviously not impressing her as she folded her arms and jutted out her hip. "Faye. That's no way to great your old comrades."
Confusion coursed over Faye's features, causing her snappy retort to die on her lips as she noticed the plural. "Comrades? But…"
Spike slouched out from behind Jet sensing this was his cue, a crooked smile on his face as he stood before her. "Hey. Long time no see."
Faye let out a gasp as the colour ran from her face and her eyes widened in shock. Slowly her arms dropped to her sides as her brain frantically tried to take in what she was seeing. Faye felt a lump in her throat and tears burn the backs of her eyes as she stood frozen to the spot, unable to do anything other than stare at the dead man smiling in front of her.
Hit it losers…
