Disclaimer: If I owned Bullseye I would most assuredly not be here right now. ::grin:: Everything that you don't recognize is mine.
A/N: Yay! Finally some action with our favorite Irish dude. I know it's slow right now. Give it time. Please? ::whimpers::
Your Winter
Chapter Three: The Drag Queen Mafia
"Chaos, panic, pandemonium-my work here is done."
As soon as I left Ben's office, I called Angelica. "Helloooo?" I winced and held the phone away from my ear.
"Angelica?"
"Baby doll, whats going on?" Once her falsetto had descended back down to a normal leval that wasn't quite so deafening, I placed the reciever back to my ear. "I need your help with something."
"Did you meet a man? Do you want me to do your make-up? Oh my goodness-"
"*Angelica*! No, I did not meet a man, and even though I love you dearly, I would sooner slit my wrists then let you do my make-up."
"Fine. What do you need, sugar?"
Subtle would not be a word I routinely use to describe Angelica. And especially not so soon after a break out. Rabid animals had more subtlety. "Your not going to believe this, but Ben just asked me to write a column for him." Another piercing shriek nearly shattered my eardrums. "Oh baby! I'm so proud, we are *definitley* going out tonight, should I call-"
"The thing is, Ang, I have to get started on this right away. Thats why I need your help." I glanced over my shoulder. "How would you feel about going into the Kitchen with me tonight?"
There was a startled pause, "The Kitchen?" I sighed and leaned against the wall. " 'fraid so. It's not my ideal place to spend a Friday night either."
Angelica sighed, "Alright sugar, anything for you. But can you at least tell me what this is all about?" I glanced over my shoulder, "Not right now. Do me a favor and call Melissa will you? And meet me at my place at nine or so?"
"Yes, Leigh Marie."
"See you then."
*
At nine thirty (fashionably late) the doorbell to my apartment rang. Like most New York apartments, mine is tiny, and ridiculously expensive. But it's nicer then some I've seen, since my Dad insisted on helping me out financially. Good thing too, 'cause with what I'm making at the Bugle, I'm lucky I'm not out wiping off windshields for bus fare.
I opened the door and stared at the sight before me. "What is this, the drag queen mafia?" Angelica sauntered in past me. "I'm incognito."
"Your insane, more like it."
Angelica is a six foot three model, who insists on wearing sky high stilettos and acrylic nails that you could use as a pole vault. She's part cuban, with flawless dark skin and killer cheekbones. Her eyes are a perfect curulean shade of blue, and she is the ipitome of a drag queen. And she's the only person that was nice to me when I moved here, which has earned her my undying friendship.
At the moment she was decked out in a leather mini skirt and a floor length leather jacket. Wrap-around sunglasses were pearched on top of her head, despite the fact that it was pitch black outside. Melissa trailed in behind her, looking gloomy and respectable in jeans and a T-shirt.
"Angelica...are you sure you want to go into the Kitchen dressed....like that?"
She looked over from the hall mirror where she was checking her lipstick. "Honey, I'm not sure I want to go into the Kitchen, period. You know me, I'm all for adventure, but your the one with a death wish, Leigh Marie."
I sighed and glanced over at Melissa, who shrugged her shoulders. "I don't want to go anymore then you two, but this is the first job I've gotten, and I don't want to dissapoint Ben."
"Yeah, what is this mysterious story even about?"
I grabbed my jacket. "I'll explain on the way."
*
I do not have sources.
Ben, on the other hand, has them out the wazoo. So for tonight he's letting me borrow a few of them. I'd stopped at three of the five locations he'd given me, with minimal success. Two told me to fuck off, the third practically ran away from me when I mentioned Bullseye.
Sigh.
Not exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for.
I was getting frustrated, and my partners in crime, who'se enthusiasm had plumeted when I told them I was tracking the most deadly assasin in the world, were getting bored.
"Sweetie, I hate to be a drag, but I've got to work tomarrow. Can the man-hunt wait?"
"Yeah. I'm going to have to bail as well. I was fighting with Andy all last night and I need some sleep."
I sighed and glanced at my watch. "Yeah. You guys go on home, I want to check out one more place." Angelica frowned. "I dunno honey, you sure it's smart to waltz around the kitchen by yourself?"
I arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying I can't take care of myself?"
"I'm saying your a midget, Leigh Marie. Midgets don't intimidate people."
"Speaks the Jolly Green Giant."
Angelica sighed and kissed my forehead, leaving a huge ruby read mark. "Fine, but call me when you get home or I'll be worried." I gave her the thumbs up and they went their respective ways.
I blew a strand of hair out of my face and thought hard. I was not giving up. If this Bullseye guy was out there, I was going to find him.
*
The Black Widow Bar. It was the last option left on Ben's list, and my last shot at getting information. Small, ragged, and apparantly a helluva party place, the Black Widow (cheerfull name, right?) was located between a "Buy Bail Bonds Here" store, and a porn shop. Talk about your ideal location. Scary looking guys dressed in more leather then even Angelica could pull off lurked outside with their Harleys, with women of questionably standard draped all over them, practically falling out of their tube tops. (I would like to point out that it was *freezing* outside, and I don't see whats remotely attractive about catching pnemonia.)
Now, I may be a little white girl from Manhatten, and, as Angelica pointed out, less then..well..tall, I walked with a don't-fuck-with-me attitude and shot daggers at anyone who brushed against me. Which obviously intimidated the bikers and their bimbos. Or maybe they just failed to see me. It's happened before. But regardless, I was feeling pretty confident as I walked in the door. Heh-heh, look at me, out on the job, doing my investigative reporting---
That would be the exact time that some ass-clown slammed into me and propelled me sideways into the bar. "Hey, watch the fuck out, asshole." I snapped (sweet little thing, aren't I?) realizing that not only had I practically dislocated my shoulder, but someone's drink had ended up on my shoes. Right. Remember that feeling of confidence I was telling you about? It had packed up and gotten the hell out of Dodge by this time.
"You want something, kid?" This was the bartender, smirking like he was being oh-so-cute. I gave him an evil look. "Yeah. Give me a beer." I hate beer, by the way, but walking around with one in my hand added to the cool-factor.
He leered at me, "Coming right up." I resisted the urge to kick him in the balls. Business first. I perched on a bar stool and looked around.
People playing pool.
People smoking.
People--whoa. What exactly are *they* doing--
You know what, nevermind.
People playing darts--
Hold the phone. Was it just my uncanny radar sense, or was something off with this particular dart game? The bartender returned with my beer, still with that stupid grin plastered on his face. "Whats going on over there?" I asked, nodding towards the corner, taking a swig and trying not to gag. He leaned closer. Ew. "Some whacko comes in here every once in a while and kicks everyones ass at darts."
"You know his name?" The guy shrugged. "Nah, doesn't talk much. I think he's Irish, or British, or something." Bingo.
I grabbed my drink and jumped off the stool. Okay, so it was nothing concrete, but it was the first lead I'd had all night. I would have jumped at anything. I shoved my way through the throng of people crowding the bar, for once not retaliating against the goombah's that stepped on my feet.
"Shit. Look at that, willya?" I turned towards the drunk guy who'd directed his last statement at me. "Look at what?" My view was obscured by a partially clothed blonde chick in thigh high boots. "Hasn't missed a fuckin' shot all night," He slurred, "lost me twenty bucks. Fucker." And then he promptly passed out.
The blonde in front of me moved sideways, and I pushed forwards. I had, well, it wasn't exactly a good feeling. But a feeling none the less. That's when I saw Him. Standing there chugging a beer and zipping off one dart after another, each landing in the very center of the board.
That was the last remotely normal evening I would ever had. Because as I gaped at this person standing before me, who looked every bit as scary as I'd expected, but not a bit like any drawing I'd been supplied with. As I watched the effortless snap of his wrist, something in me changed.
I just didn't know what yet.
Bull's-eye, indeed.
A/N: Yay! Finally some action with our favorite Irish dude. I know it's slow right now. Give it time. Please? ::whimpers::
Your Winter
Chapter Three: The Drag Queen Mafia
"Chaos, panic, pandemonium-my work here is done."
As soon as I left Ben's office, I called Angelica. "Helloooo?" I winced and held the phone away from my ear.
"Angelica?"
"Baby doll, whats going on?" Once her falsetto had descended back down to a normal leval that wasn't quite so deafening, I placed the reciever back to my ear. "I need your help with something."
"Did you meet a man? Do you want me to do your make-up? Oh my goodness-"
"*Angelica*! No, I did not meet a man, and even though I love you dearly, I would sooner slit my wrists then let you do my make-up."
"Fine. What do you need, sugar?"
Subtle would not be a word I routinely use to describe Angelica. And especially not so soon after a break out. Rabid animals had more subtlety. "Your not going to believe this, but Ben just asked me to write a column for him." Another piercing shriek nearly shattered my eardrums. "Oh baby! I'm so proud, we are *definitley* going out tonight, should I call-"
"The thing is, Ang, I have to get started on this right away. Thats why I need your help." I glanced over my shoulder. "How would you feel about going into the Kitchen with me tonight?"
There was a startled pause, "The Kitchen?" I sighed and leaned against the wall. " 'fraid so. It's not my ideal place to spend a Friday night either."
Angelica sighed, "Alright sugar, anything for you. But can you at least tell me what this is all about?" I glanced over my shoulder, "Not right now. Do me a favor and call Melissa will you? And meet me at my place at nine or so?"
"Yes, Leigh Marie."
"See you then."
*
At nine thirty (fashionably late) the doorbell to my apartment rang. Like most New York apartments, mine is tiny, and ridiculously expensive. But it's nicer then some I've seen, since my Dad insisted on helping me out financially. Good thing too, 'cause with what I'm making at the Bugle, I'm lucky I'm not out wiping off windshields for bus fare.
I opened the door and stared at the sight before me. "What is this, the drag queen mafia?" Angelica sauntered in past me. "I'm incognito."
"Your insane, more like it."
Angelica is a six foot three model, who insists on wearing sky high stilettos and acrylic nails that you could use as a pole vault. She's part cuban, with flawless dark skin and killer cheekbones. Her eyes are a perfect curulean shade of blue, and she is the ipitome of a drag queen. And she's the only person that was nice to me when I moved here, which has earned her my undying friendship.
At the moment she was decked out in a leather mini skirt and a floor length leather jacket. Wrap-around sunglasses were pearched on top of her head, despite the fact that it was pitch black outside. Melissa trailed in behind her, looking gloomy and respectable in jeans and a T-shirt.
"Angelica...are you sure you want to go into the Kitchen dressed....like that?"
She looked over from the hall mirror where she was checking her lipstick. "Honey, I'm not sure I want to go into the Kitchen, period. You know me, I'm all for adventure, but your the one with a death wish, Leigh Marie."
I sighed and glanced over at Melissa, who shrugged her shoulders. "I don't want to go anymore then you two, but this is the first job I've gotten, and I don't want to dissapoint Ben."
"Yeah, what is this mysterious story even about?"
I grabbed my jacket. "I'll explain on the way."
*
I do not have sources.
Ben, on the other hand, has them out the wazoo. So for tonight he's letting me borrow a few of them. I'd stopped at three of the five locations he'd given me, with minimal success. Two told me to fuck off, the third practically ran away from me when I mentioned Bullseye.
Sigh.
Not exactly the reaction I'd been hoping for.
I was getting frustrated, and my partners in crime, who'se enthusiasm had plumeted when I told them I was tracking the most deadly assasin in the world, were getting bored.
"Sweetie, I hate to be a drag, but I've got to work tomarrow. Can the man-hunt wait?"
"Yeah. I'm going to have to bail as well. I was fighting with Andy all last night and I need some sleep."
I sighed and glanced at my watch. "Yeah. You guys go on home, I want to check out one more place." Angelica frowned. "I dunno honey, you sure it's smart to waltz around the kitchen by yourself?"
I arched an eyebrow at her. "Are you saying I can't take care of myself?"
"I'm saying your a midget, Leigh Marie. Midgets don't intimidate people."
"Speaks the Jolly Green Giant."
Angelica sighed and kissed my forehead, leaving a huge ruby read mark. "Fine, but call me when you get home or I'll be worried." I gave her the thumbs up and they went their respective ways.
I blew a strand of hair out of my face and thought hard. I was not giving up. If this Bullseye guy was out there, I was going to find him.
*
The Black Widow Bar. It was the last option left on Ben's list, and my last shot at getting information. Small, ragged, and apparantly a helluva party place, the Black Widow (cheerfull name, right?) was located between a "Buy Bail Bonds Here" store, and a porn shop. Talk about your ideal location. Scary looking guys dressed in more leather then even Angelica could pull off lurked outside with their Harleys, with women of questionably standard draped all over them, practically falling out of their tube tops. (I would like to point out that it was *freezing* outside, and I don't see whats remotely attractive about catching pnemonia.)
Now, I may be a little white girl from Manhatten, and, as Angelica pointed out, less then..well..tall, I walked with a don't-fuck-with-me attitude and shot daggers at anyone who brushed against me. Which obviously intimidated the bikers and their bimbos. Or maybe they just failed to see me. It's happened before. But regardless, I was feeling pretty confident as I walked in the door. Heh-heh, look at me, out on the job, doing my investigative reporting---
That would be the exact time that some ass-clown slammed into me and propelled me sideways into the bar. "Hey, watch the fuck out, asshole." I snapped (sweet little thing, aren't I?) realizing that not only had I practically dislocated my shoulder, but someone's drink had ended up on my shoes. Right. Remember that feeling of confidence I was telling you about? It had packed up and gotten the hell out of Dodge by this time.
"You want something, kid?" This was the bartender, smirking like he was being oh-so-cute. I gave him an evil look. "Yeah. Give me a beer." I hate beer, by the way, but walking around with one in my hand added to the cool-factor.
He leered at me, "Coming right up." I resisted the urge to kick him in the balls. Business first. I perched on a bar stool and looked around.
People playing pool.
People smoking.
People--whoa. What exactly are *they* doing--
You know what, nevermind.
People playing darts--
Hold the phone. Was it just my uncanny radar sense, or was something off with this particular dart game? The bartender returned with my beer, still with that stupid grin plastered on his face. "Whats going on over there?" I asked, nodding towards the corner, taking a swig and trying not to gag. He leaned closer. Ew. "Some whacko comes in here every once in a while and kicks everyones ass at darts."
"You know his name?" The guy shrugged. "Nah, doesn't talk much. I think he's Irish, or British, or something." Bingo.
I grabbed my drink and jumped off the stool. Okay, so it was nothing concrete, but it was the first lead I'd had all night. I would have jumped at anything. I shoved my way through the throng of people crowding the bar, for once not retaliating against the goombah's that stepped on my feet.
"Shit. Look at that, willya?" I turned towards the drunk guy who'd directed his last statement at me. "Look at what?" My view was obscured by a partially clothed blonde chick in thigh high boots. "Hasn't missed a fuckin' shot all night," He slurred, "lost me twenty bucks. Fucker." And then he promptly passed out.
The blonde in front of me moved sideways, and I pushed forwards. I had, well, it wasn't exactly a good feeling. But a feeling none the less. That's when I saw Him. Standing there chugging a beer and zipping off one dart after another, each landing in the very center of the board.
That was the last remotely normal evening I would ever had. Because as I gaped at this person standing before me, who looked every bit as scary as I'd expected, but not a bit like any drawing I'd been supplied with. As I watched the effortless snap of his wrist, something in me changed.
I just didn't know what yet.
Bull's-eye, indeed.