Chapter 3
At noon, Spike gave a thought to going back to Jet's lot, and waiting for new orders. He sat in Patrick's bar, with a few shot glasses in front of him, still not completly intoxicated, but with senses dulled enough to make him useless. A mafia doesn't plan he thought sourly. They take action. He mulled this over, and then decided not to go. It would look like he was too desperate if he followed Jet's every command. Nothing had happened last night. Nothing. The words, having been thought about in the car only hours before, sifted slowly through his thoughts. Nothing had happened- especially not with Julia.
As if the subconscious saying of her name summoned her, the tall blond appeared, walking into the bar from across the street. Looking as if she had a set purpose, her jade eyes remained fastened straight ahead. Unlike last night, her outfit was nothing too stealthy. In fact, her skirt and blazer screamed of a business woman.
Of course it did,thought Spike, she probably worked in the bank. Perhaps that was were Vicious had met her. And continued to romance her. To kiss her, to hold her. To make love to her. Jealously with a mixture of envy sharpened Spike's senses. He had never wanted her as much as now, when she was Vicious's whore. That's all she probably meant to him. An outlet for his sexual needs.
He watched her order a scotch on the rocks. Must have been a hard day, he thought, if she's getting a scotch this early.
"Are you sure you want that, pretty lady?" the bar tender questioned, polishing a glass with an odd glint of amusement in her eye.
"Serve me or I'll take my business elsewhere," Julia snapped. Her impatience surprised Spike and the bar tender. Neither expected a voice so hard to come from a face so soft. It was the same sort of tone she had used with Spike earlier.
"I think you'd be better off with a martini or something." offered the bar tender, reaching for the shaker.
Julia's face contorted and a red flush rose to her cheeks. Her mouth opened to remark when Spike stepped up behind her. "Give the lady her scotch."
This time, the drink less relunctently made. Grumbling under his breath, the man pushed the drink out in front of Julia.
"If you think that was going to make me notice you, you're mistaken." commented Julia, whirling around to Spike.
"Just trying to help," he casually replied.
Julia glowered. "Oh, so I owe you one? I could have gotten the god damn drink myself."
Spike smiled, "Well sure but it would have taken you longer. You know Patrick's got the best deals,"
"Spike, whatever the hell you're doing here is you own damn business. Just leave me out of it. What we had was one good night of sex. That's it." her tone trembled a little, whether from anger, passion, or hurt Spike couldn't distinguish.
"What has he done to you?" he muttered, casting her a concerned look.
"Just leave me alone, Spike." This time, Julia put her drink down and looked away. Trying to repress a shudder, Julia collected her things and began to leave.
"Wait," Spike demanded, grabbing her arm. To his surprise, she didn't protest. In fact, her reserve broke down and tears began slipping out of her eyes. She fell into his arms and held on to him for awhile. The bartender sat and watched, like he would watch a movie.
"Let's go," Spike said gently, leading her outside. She nodded her head and pulled away so she could walk on her own. Brushing the fallen tears from her eyes she tried to regain some of her control.
They went back up to the hotel room, and sat on Spike's bed. Julia leaned her head against Spike's shoulder and stared out the window. One time, a lone tear rolled out of her eye. Spike caught it on his pointer finger and flicked it away. He turned so he could look her in the eye.
"There's nothing to worry about, you're safe here." his words floated in the air for a second, resounding in his head as a lame line. Julia managed a smile, but did not respond. I'm not safe anywhere she thought. Vicious said that to her, when they first met.
At the bank she worked in, there was a hold up. One of Crimson's men had killed a cashier and had Julia at gun point. Frightened, she followed out his orders unaware that Vicious and some of Jet's people were present. The police remained outside, with the chief shouting out orders. Crimson's man did not answer, merely pressed the cold steel against her head and whispered in her ear what to do. The man's arm wrapped around her chest squeezing her tightly. His scent engulfed her, so strong it remained with her even now. A chewing tobacco smell mixed in with a light spermint. On the whole completely revolting. After securing her in his grasp, he forced her over to the doors. The tears came faster now, she knew in a few moments, this man could kill her. Her terror heightened with each step they took. Suddenly, a shot rang out. Julia thought she died. She felt no pain, and the weight that held her fell. Opening her eyes, she saw the robber dead on the ground, a bullet hole in his chest. The blood reached her shoes, a scarlet red on the white marble floor. Overwhelmed with relief and disgust, she felt her legs sway underneath her. As she fainted, she was caught, by Vicious. His partner held the smoking gun.When Julia came to, she was looking up into Vicious's eyes. As cold as they were, she felt a sense of secruity. "There's nothing to worry about. You're safe here," he told her.
After that, they began dating. After the first year, Julia's sense of secruity left her. Vicious often hit her, forbid her to go certain places, and kept her in his room most of the day. She could go to work but only if she was accompained by one of Jet's men. She hated her escorts, all were vulgar and treated her like a merchendice. One man, a tall, lean, beared man with beady black eyes asked if she would sleep with him for one hundred dollars.
After that, Julia left undetected so she could avoid that escort. Vicious eventually found out, and left her unconscious on the floor of his bedroom. Things improved when Vicious became a respected person in the mafia. Fearless, and without a conscience, he killed many and tackled dangerous stunts. He receieved the penthouse to Jet's apartment building as a susbidy. Julia had more space then, and Vicious was in general a happy man. During that time, she felt rewarded for staying with him through the dark time before. When Vicious left the spotlight, Julia began to worry again. More often than not Vicious arrived to the penthouse in a bad mood. Sex would always be painful and he would be rough. After only three weeks of this, Julia began to leave for days at a time. She would go to work, and then never come home. At first, she would only room at a hotel across time. She saw of Jet's men there one time, and the only way he would keep her secrecy is if she would sleep with him.
After that painful experience, she went out past where she grew up, which was three days ship travel from Celerion. Vicious, in all his work, sometimes didn't notice she was gone. When she returned, she would find him passed out or gone with beer bottles littering the place. The thought of leaving him never occured to her. Julia feared him too much. After she met Spike, Julia's visits to the outside slowly stopped. The connection she felt with him could happen again, and as it was it endangered her relationship with Vicious. While she and Vicious made love, she would think of Spike, and their night together.
Then he showed up at the door, wanting to speak with her. She could not have been more shocked, and yet a part of her always wanted him to come. To sweep her off her feet and take her far away from Vicious. But then Vicious came, and began keeping closer tabs on her. He sat her down and interrogated her the day Spike came. He hit her until she told him that he was an old friend from high school. She tried to concentrate on work and on pleasing Vicious at night but Spike kept showing up.
With out realizing it, Julia began crying again. Spike kissed her forehead and drew her closer. Startled, and awoken from her thoughts, she responded, and kissed him. His presence surrounding her, she forgot all her thoughts about Vicious and her worries about being seen diminished with every tender touch Spike gave her.
It was six o'clock when Julia collected her clothes and prepared to go home. Spike still lay in bed, dozing. She tried to wake him, and was sucessful in getting out the door without making too much noise. As she hurried down the hall, she buttoned her blazer and straightened her hair. She could touch up on her make-up in the cab. Slipping on a pair of sunglasses she headed out to the street and hailed a cab. Now to face Vicious, and to hide what would be his worst fears.
Spike rolled over to face what would be Julia around eight. Startled, he found her gone, and the hotel room empty. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was after nine. Running his hands through his hair, he got dressed. He might as well head over to Jet's place. Since he missed the planning, he might as well show for the action. Spike couldn't help but smirk as he thought of what went on that day. He just wished he could figure out why Julia was so upset. He couldn't fix it, but he could sure give Vicious a run for his money. It feel good to kill that bastard, he thought wickedly. I've only known him for a week and already I feel like smashing his face in. A crowbar should do the trick. One of those ten pounders with little spikes on the end. He wondered where to get those.....
He wandered out to his car and made the almost routine trip to Jet's. It looked vaccant, not even the front porch light was on. "Shit," he spat, getting out a cigarette. He threw open the car door and walked briskly up to the porch, trying to light his cigarette the whole time. Finally, he did, right before he got to the door. He pounded on it taking out his frustration on the door.
Finally, someone answered. Surprisingly enough, it was Jet. He looked tired, and disshelved.
"Oh. Spike. You missed our meeting this afternoon," Jet said bluntly.
"Where is everyone?" he demanded, looking around inside.
"I told Vicious to go down to the bank again. Crimson's man tried to get inside today. We think something's going to happen tonight."
Spike smoked for a second before asking if he should go too. Jet appeared uneasy with the idea, but nodded his consent. "We need all the men we can get. We're one short without Julia. She stayed in tonight, said she needed a night off. She's been up in her room all evening,"
"All right, I'll head on down to the bank." Spike said, hoping Julia wouldn't be gone tomorrow. He put of his cigarette and headed back to his car. He drove quickly, the streets between Jet's and the bank oddly clear. No cop cars in sight, no pedistrans. It was an odd occurence, especially in such a busy city, in such an industrial part of town.
A few blocks away, Spike picked out a few of the cars he had seen at Jet's. He parked his behind a red car and walked the rest of the way. The front of the bank looked cheery enough, almost regal. It was no wonder the cops didn't know Jet ran the bank, it looked so normal. Spike strolled in, casting a look around to see if anything out of the unusual was occuring. Two secruity officers stood by the doors, and looked Spike over before letting him through. There was a counter in the center of the small narthex, where a sign read, No Guns allowed. A young man sat, looking businesslike and stern. The secruity officer to the left nodded to the man at the desk who asked in a stiff voice, "Could I have your gun sir?"
Spike pulled out his larger pistol, keeping the hand gun to his side. He watched the man tag it and place it in a locked box. Handing Spike the key, he commented "Keep your other gun close, and do not take it out for any reason,"
A little unnerved, Spike nodded, and patted his concealed weapon knowingly. The guards were better trained than he thought. Spike sat down in a waiting chair next to a grandmotherly African woman, dressed in a bright array of cloths. Nothing seemed out of place. All the tellers cheerfully helped their clients, couples came in and got financial advice. Spike even watched a small boy deposist his life savings into his account,and once the money was gone, he began to cry. The mother scolded him quietly and took him out of the bank as quickly as possible.
He noted that Vicious would come in every once and awhile, through a side door. He too looked about for anything suspicious.
A teller closed up her counter and began heading home. She gathered her purse about her and primly sauntered off, switching her hips as she went along. At the door, she was stopped by one of the guards. There seemed to be some discrepment as she tried to leave the building. The guard pointed to her bag and began growing angry. The teller screamed and instantly the building went into cahous. The man at the counter took out two guns and began firing on the guards. He instantly killed them both before turning on to the customers. Vicious drew out his gun and began firing at both the counter man and the teller. A young couple leaving also drew out guns, this time pointing them at Vicious, and Spike saw the plot unfold. A graying man took out a knife and held it up to the a teller's throat while he withdrew that right amount of money. Bag in hand, the man walked towards the door. Spike tackeld him, sending the bag flying. One of Vicious's men leaped out of nowhere, and threw Spike off of the robber. Vicious's man retrieved the bag and ran off. Vicious killed the counter man and the young couple before heading off with the teller's bag, the robber and his men. When the door closed hysteria broke loose. Police sirens wailed and the people ran for the exits. Spike casually went among them and walked out to his car, trying to make sense of all the happened. News vans began rolling in, and one man tried to detain Spike for questioning. Spike pushed past them all and headed for his car.
What if Vicious and Crimson had worked together? What if the counterman, the teller and the young couple were meant to rob the bank and Vicious was supposed to let them do it? But then Vicious had a change of mind and decided that he would rob the bank so he hired the graying old man to do it. Then Vicious would foil Crimson's plan and make off with the original money being stolen and his additional amount. This seemed logical, and from the little Spike knew of Vicious, he could see it Vicious's capable of doing it.
His mind spinning, Spike finally put his car in drive. He figured he better go report to Jet to tell him what was going on. When he arrived, he saw Vicious and Jet standing in the lawn. Jet looked pleased, and was shaking Vicious's hand. Sensing something, askew, Spike hurried over to them.
Jet turned to Spike with a cold glare. "You have failed me," he said.
At noon, Spike gave a thought to going back to Jet's lot, and waiting for new orders. He sat in Patrick's bar, with a few shot glasses in front of him, still not completly intoxicated, but with senses dulled enough to make him useless. A mafia doesn't plan he thought sourly. They take action. He mulled this over, and then decided not to go. It would look like he was too desperate if he followed Jet's every command. Nothing had happened last night. Nothing. The words, having been thought about in the car only hours before, sifted slowly through his thoughts. Nothing had happened- especially not with Julia.
As if the subconscious saying of her name summoned her, the tall blond appeared, walking into the bar from across the street. Looking as if she had a set purpose, her jade eyes remained fastened straight ahead. Unlike last night, her outfit was nothing too stealthy. In fact, her skirt and blazer screamed of a business woman.
Of course it did,thought Spike, she probably worked in the bank. Perhaps that was were Vicious had met her. And continued to romance her. To kiss her, to hold her. To make love to her. Jealously with a mixture of envy sharpened Spike's senses. He had never wanted her as much as now, when she was Vicious's whore. That's all she probably meant to him. An outlet for his sexual needs.
He watched her order a scotch on the rocks. Must have been a hard day, he thought, if she's getting a scotch this early.
"Are you sure you want that, pretty lady?" the bar tender questioned, polishing a glass with an odd glint of amusement in her eye.
"Serve me or I'll take my business elsewhere," Julia snapped. Her impatience surprised Spike and the bar tender. Neither expected a voice so hard to come from a face so soft. It was the same sort of tone she had used with Spike earlier.
"I think you'd be better off with a martini or something." offered the bar tender, reaching for the shaker.
Julia's face contorted and a red flush rose to her cheeks. Her mouth opened to remark when Spike stepped up behind her. "Give the lady her scotch."
This time, the drink less relunctently made. Grumbling under his breath, the man pushed the drink out in front of Julia.
"If you think that was going to make me notice you, you're mistaken." commented Julia, whirling around to Spike.
"Just trying to help," he casually replied.
Julia glowered. "Oh, so I owe you one? I could have gotten the god damn drink myself."
Spike smiled, "Well sure but it would have taken you longer. You know Patrick's got the best deals,"
"Spike, whatever the hell you're doing here is you own damn business. Just leave me out of it. What we had was one good night of sex. That's it." her tone trembled a little, whether from anger, passion, or hurt Spike couldn't distinguish.
"What has he done to you?" he muttered, casting her a concerned look.
"Just leave me alone, Spike." This time, Julia put her drink down and looked away. Trying to repress a shudder, Julia collected her things and began to leave.
"Wait," Spike demanded, grabbing her arm. To his surprise, she didn't protest. In fact, her reserve broke down and tears began slipping out of her eyes. She fell into his arms and held on to him for awhile. The bartender sat and watched, like he would watch a movie.
"Let's go," Spike said gently, leading her outside. She nodded her head and pulled away so she could walk on her own. Brushing the fallen tears from her eyes she tried to regain some of her control.
They went back up to the hotel room, and sat on Spike's bed. Julia leaned her head against Spike's shoulder and stared out the window. One time, a lone tear rolled out of her eye. Spike caught it on his pointer finger and flicked it away. He turned so he could look her in the eye.
"There's nothing to worry about, you're safe here." his words floated in the air for a second, resounding in his head as a lame line. Julia managed a smile, but did not respond. I'm not safe anywhere she thought. Vicious said that to her, when they first met.
At the bank she worked in, there was a hold up. One of Crimson's men had killed a cashier and had Julia at gun point. Frightened, she followed out his orders unaware that Vicious and some of Jet's people were present. The police remained outside, with the chief shouting out orders. Crimson's man did not answer, merely pressed the cold steel against her head and whispered in her ear what to do. The man's arm wrapped around her chest squeezing her tightly. His scent engulfed her, so strong it remained with her even now. A chewing tobacco smell mixed in with a light spermint. On the whole completely revolting. After securing her in his grasp, he forced her over to the doors. The tears came faster now, she knew in a few moments, this man could kill her. Her terror heightened with each step they took. Suddenly, a shot rang out. Julia thought she died. She felt no pain, and the weight that held her fell. Opening her eyes, she saw the robber dead on the ground, a bullet hole in his chest. The blood reached her shoes, a scarlet red on the white marble floor. Overwhelmed with relief and disgust, she felt her legs sway underneath her. As she fainted, she was caught, by Vicious. His partner held the smoking gun.When Julia came to, she was looking up into Vicious's eyes. As cold as they were, she felt a sense of secruity. "There's nothing to worry about. You're safe here," he told her.
After that, they began dating. After the first year, Julia's sense of secruity left her. Vicious often hit her, forbid her to go certain places, and kept her in his room most of the day. She could go to work but only if she was accompained by one of Jet's men. She hated her escorts, all were vulgar and treated her like a merchendice. One man, a tall, lean, beared man with beady black eyes asked if she would sleep with him for one hundred dollars.
After that, Julia left undetected so she could avoid that escort. Vicious eventually found out, and left her unconscious on the floor of his bedroom. Things improved when Vicious became a respected person in the mafia. Fearless, and without a conscience, he killed many and tackled dangerous stunts. He receieved the penthouse to Jet's apartment building as a susbidy. Julia had more space then, and Vicious was in general a happy man. During that time, she felt rewarded for staying with him through the dark time before. When Vicious left the spotlight, Julia began to worry again. More often than not Vicious arrived to the penthouse in a bad mood. Sex would always be painful and he would be rough. After only three weeks of this, Julia began to leave for days at a time. She would go to work, and then never come home. At first, she would only room at a hotel across time. She saw of Jet's men there one time, and the only way he would keep her secrecy is if she would sleep with him.
After that painful experience, she went out past where she grew up, which was three days ship travel from Celerion. Vicious, in all his work, sometimes didn't notice she was gone. When she returned, she would find him passed out or gone with beer bottles littering the place. The thought of leaving him never occured to her. Julia feared him too much. After she met Spike, Julia's visits to the outside slowly stopped. The connection she felt with him could happen again, and as it was it endangered her relationship with Vicious. While she and Vicious made love, she would think of Spike, and their night together.
Then he showed up at the door, wanting to speak with her. She could not have been more shocked, and yet a part of her always wanted him to come. To sweep her off her feet and take her far away from Vicious. But then Vicious came, and began keeping closer tabs on her. He sat her down and interrogated her the day Spike came. He hit her until she told him that he was an old friend from high school. She tried to concentrate on work and on pleasing Vicious at night but Spike kept showing up.
With out realizing it, Julia began crying again. Spike kissed her forehead and drew her closer. Startled, and awoken from her thoughts, she responded, and kissed him. His presence surrounding her, she forgot all her thoughts about Vicious and her worries about being seen diminished with every tender touch Spike gave her.
It was six o'clock when Julia collected her clothes and prepared to go home. Spike still lay in bed, dozing. She tried to wake him, and was sucessful in getting out the door without making too much noise. As she hurried down the hall, she buttoned her blazer and straightened her hair. She could touch up on her make-up in the cab. Slipping on a pair of sunglasses she headed out to the street and hailed a cab. Now to face Vicious, and to hide what would be his worst fears.
Spike rolled over to face what would be Julia around eight. Startled, he found her gone, and the hotel room empty. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was after nine. Running his hands through his hair, he got dressed. He might as well head over to Jet's place. Since he missed the planning, he might as well show for the action. Spike couldn't help but smirk as he thought of what went on that day. He just wished he could figure out why Julia was so upset. He couldn't fix it, but he could sure give Vicious a run for his money. It feel good to kill that bastard, he thought wickedly. I've only known him for a week and already I feel like smashing his face in. A crowbar should do the trick. One of those ten pounders with little spikes on the end. He wondered where to get those.....
He wandered out to his car and made the almost routine trip to Jet's. It looked vaccant, not even the front porch light was on. "Shit," he spat, getting out a cigarette. He threw open the car door and walked briskly up to the porch, trying to light his cigarette the whole time. Finally, he did, right before he got to the door. He pounded on it taking out his frustration on the door.
Finally, someone answered. Surprisingly enough, it was Jet. He looked tired, and disshelved.
"Oh. Spike. You missed our meeting this afternoon," Jet said bluntly.
"Where is everyone?" he demanded, looking around inside.
"I told Vicious to go down to the bank again. Crimson's man tried to get inside today. We think something's going to happen tonight."
Spike smoked for a second before asking if he should go too. Jet appeared uneasy with the idea, but nodded his consent. "We need all the men we can get. We're one short without Julia. She stayed in tonight, said she needed a night off. She's been up in her room all evening,"
"All right, I'll head on down to the bank." Spike said, hoping Julia wouldn't be gone tomorrow. He put of his cigarette and headed back to his car. He drove quickly, the streets between Jet's and the bank oddly clear. No cop cars in sight, no pedistrans. It was an odd occurence, especially in such a busy city, in such an industrial part of town.
A few blocks away, Spike picked out a few of the cars he had seen at Jet's. He parked his behind a red car and walked the rest of the way. The front of the bank looked cheery enough, almost regal. It was no wonder the cops didn't know Jet ran the bank, it looked so normal. Spike strolled in, casting a look around to see if anything out of the unusual was occuring. Two secruity officers stood by the doors, and looked Spike over before letting him through. There was a counter in the center of the small narthex, where a sign read, No Guns allowed. A young man sat, looking businesslike and stern. The secruity officer to the left nodded to the man at the desk who asked in a stiff voice, "Could I have your gun sir?"
Spike pulled out his larger pistol, keeping the hand gun to his side. He watched the man tag it and place it in a locked box. Handing Spike the key, he commented "Keep your other gun close, and do not take it out for any reason,"
A little unnerved, Spike nodded, and patted his concealed weapon knowingly. The guards were better trained than he thought. Spike sat down in a waiting chair next to a grandmotherly African woman, dressed in a bright array of cloths. Nothing seemed out of place. All the tellers cheerfully helped their clients, couples came in and got financial advice. Spike even watched a small boy deposist his life savings into his account,and once the money was gone, he began to cry. The mother scolded him quietly and took him out of the bank as quickly as possible.
He noted that Vicious would come in every once and awhile, through a side door. He too looked about for anything suspicious.
A teller closed up her counter and began heading home. She gathered her purse about her and primly sauntered off, switching her hips as she went along. At the door, she was stopped by one of the guards. There seemed to be some discrepment as she tried to leave the building. The guard pointed to her bag and began growing angry. The teller screamed and instantly the building went into cahous. The man at the counter took out two guns and began firing on the guards. He instantly killed them both before turning on to the customers. Vicious drew out his gun and began firing at both the counter man and the teller. A young couple leaving also drew out guns, this time pointing them at Vicious, and Spike saw the plot unfold. A graying man took out a knife and held it up to the a teller's throat while he withdrew that right amount of money. Bag in hand, the man walked towards the door. Spike tackeld him, sending the bag flying. One of Vicious's men leaped out of nowhere, and threw Spike off of the robber. Vicious's man retrieved the bag and ran off. Vicious killed the counter man and the young couple before heading off with the teller's bag, the robber and his men. When the door closed hysteria broke loose. Police sirens wailed and the people ran for the exits. Spike casually went among them and walked out to his car, trying to make sense of all the happened. News vans began rolling in, and one man tried to detain Spike for questioning. Spike pushed past them all and headed for his car.
What if Vicious and Crimson had worked together? What if the counterman, the teller and the young couple were meant to rob the bank and Vicious was supposed to let them do it? But then Vicious had a change of mind and decided that he would rob the bank so he hired the graying old man to do it. Then Vicious would foil Crimson's plan and make off with the original money being stolen and his additional amount. This seemed logical, and from the little Spike knew of Vicious, he could see it Vicious's capable of doing it.
His mind spinning, Spike finally put his car in drive. He figured he better go report to Jet to tell him what was going on. When he arrived, he saw Vicious and Jet standing in the lawn. Jet looked pleased, and was shaking Vicious's hand. Sensing something, askew, Spike hurried over to them.
Jet turned to Spike with a cold glare. "You have failed me," he said.
