Summary: A mysterious pianist on the run, a bounty of unfathomable worth, three bounty hunters and the simple beauty of his music...
Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop, but I do own all of this story. Oh, and the title was my own invention. (I completely forgot about the movie, The Pianist, and now, I can't change my title...*sniff*)
A/N: So I was cleaning out my files, and came upon this. It's from a while ago, but I think the story has promise. Unfortunately, I never wrote down my ideas for the rest of the plot, so all I have is the first chapter. -_-' The idea originally came from a song my dad was playing on the piano (it's in here later on). Please review, and tell me if I should continue. Oh, and give me plot ideas since I don't have any!! lol...enjoy!
Chapter One: Joe's Bar and Hotel
Joe's Bar and Hotel was well known. The food was always good, the whiskey never watered down and the rooms cheap. The place was mostly clean and always affordable; the drunks were just drunk enough to be amusing, but rarely drunk enough to be dangerous. Joe himself was a nice guy if you were nice to him.
Tonight, as was usual, the place was crowded. Joe yelled out greetings to his usual customers while rushing around behind the bar, making drinks. There were men playing cards and gambling at several tables and everyone was laughing, talking, eating, drinking, smoking and Joe knew they would come back. He eyed the woman who had just entered quietly. She was a real looker, in short yellow shorts and a short shirt. She was wearing sunglasses and did not take them off, although the inside of the bar was dim and smoky.
Joe went on mixing drinks, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She picked a table in the corner and sat down alone. When the flow of customers calmed down, he would go and welcome her. Not only did that help convince people to come back, but also, she was a very beautiful girl. And it didn't look as though she would need much convincing.
***
Faye Valentine had noticed the bartended eying her right off. She would have had to be blind not to. If the bartended came over, she would get him to buy her a drink. After all, she was thirsty and the way he was looking at her wasn't free.
She settled back into her chair and looked around. Faye had a clear view of the piano in the corner. It was a huge piano to Faye's eyes-all black and smooth and shiny. After a moment or two, a man approached the piano. He was skinny, with black hair that was slicked back. He had a pronounced nose and thin, dark eyebrows. She didn't have to check the picture in her pocket to know that this was the guy. He was wearing a suit that looked to be two sizes to big and he kept smoothing it down nervously. Faye smirked, a pianist on the run...
Eventually, the man sat down cautiously and began leafing through his music, one hand poised above the keys. He must have felt Faye watching him, for his head snapped around in her direction, but with the shades, it was hard to know which way Faye was looking. She turned to a passing waitress and ordered a drink, figuring she'd find someone to pay for it later. She didn't look at the pianist again until she had the drink in front of her.
The pianist sat looking at his music for a long time, breathing deeply. Then suddenly, he placed both his hands down and music flowed out from beneath them. He played as if breathing, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. Faye forgot herself and stared in amazement. He played on and on and did not look at the music again. Faye, who had never learned anything about music, knew instinctively that he could have been famous, could have been on stage. She wondered why he had taken this job in a bar and why he had such an enormous bounty on his head.
She raised her glass to him discreetly. To the money I will get for you. May you still play so beautifully after I catch you...
***
Jet Black and Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky the Fourth entered Joe's Bar and Hotel together. Ed was wearing her purple dress and holding Jet's gloved hand. Jet was in a yellow suit with a matching hat. Ed skipped around excitedly, clutching a suitcase Faye knew to contain her computer, in her other hand.
"I'd like a room for tonight," Jet said, leaning over the bar. "For my daughter and me," he added, indicating Ed.
Joe nodded, handed over a room key and the two men talked for a moment about wake-up calls and beds and breakfast. Ed danced around, smiling widely. Faye breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Ed recognize her, but manage to restrain from waving or yelling, "HI FAYE-FAYE!"
In the upstairs room, Ed set up her computer, put her goggles on and started immediately running some quick checks. Jet hummed to himself and went into the bathroom to change out of his disguise and into a new one. A few minutes later, he emerged in a black suit and a wig of thick black hair.
"Find anything?"
Ed looked up from where she had removed her nice shoes and was typing with her toes. "Ed found picture! Guess what else Ed found! A BIG number!"
Jet looked over her shoulder. "Good, the bounty is still the same."
"YAY! Ed likes big numbers!" Ed cried, jumping up and down.
Jet smiled and told her to stay in the room. He went downstairs for a drink and for any updates Faye might have.
***
In the bar, Faye leaned back in her chair. She pulled out a cigarette, inspected it and lit it. Through the smoke, she watched the pianist playing.
"A cigarette that bears a lipstick's traces,
An airline ticket to romantic places,
And still my heart has wings.
These foolish things
Remind me of you." The pianist sang, winking at a beautiful woman walking past. Faye smiled--men. A few minutes later, she had finished her cigarette and her drink, so she got up and walked over to the piano. The man didn't even look up, just kept playing. Faye leaned against the beautiful, black edge of the piano. She could wait.
"The winds of March that make my heart a dancer,
A telephone that rings, but whose to answer?
Oh, how the ghost of you clings!
These foolish things
Remind me of you," he finished the song and glanced up at last.
"Where'dya learn to play like that?" Faye heard herself ask bluntly.
"I think I've always known..." he answered dreamily, his hands still holding down the last chords of the song.
"It's beautiful," Faye commented weakly. "Not the song...well, yes, the song, too, but I meant...the music and um..." Smooth move, she thought sarcastically and tried to smile nicely at the pianist.
He smiled back. "I'm glad you're enjoying it." Then he began to play again, ignoring her.
"She left a note on her dresser
And her old wedding ring.
With these few good-bye words,
Sadly she sings:
Good-bye old sleepy head,
I'm packing you in.
Like I said, take care of everything.
I'm leaving my wedding ring.
Don't look for me, I'll get ahead.
Remember darling; don't smoke in bed," he sang sweetly.
He looked up briefly and did a slight double take. "You're still here."
"It's a short song;" Faye laughed and wondered why all the songs he played were so sad.
"Do you want something?"
"Just to talk. I'm...here for the night alone," Faye lied.
"Ah, a lonely drifter," the pianist announced, smoothing his black hair back and searching his music--undoubtedly for a song about lonely drifters.
"Yeah," Faye acknowledged. It was only half a lie. "Smoke?"
"Oh, no. Not on the job."
"Right." She put the cigarettes back away. "You could be on stage, you know."
"Hmm."
"No, really, you could," Faye insisted. "Why are you wasting your time in a little cheap place like this?"
He played a few notes absent-mindedly. "They pay pretty good here."
"Better on stage."
"What are you? Some kind of recruiter?"
"No. Just curious."
"Then how do you know I should be on stage?" He demanded.
"I just think you could be on stage," Faye clarified.
"Yeah, well, listen: I got a job to do, so why don't you go have another drink or something, lady?"
"Sure thing. I just thought," Faye hurried on, taking a wild guess, "you looked kinda like a lonely drifter, too."
She could feel him watching her as she walked away and smiled to herself. Stage One complete.
***
Spike Speigel registered in a hotel nearby the bar. It was rumored the pianist was staying there. Spike was going to find out. He sat in the lobby, where they had cheesy elevator music playing and pretended to read the superficial magazines about losing weight and how to win friends. They had a piano in the corner, but the lid was closed over the keys and there was no sign of a pianist anywhere. Across from the lobby was the front desk. The young girl working there looked about twenty-five, with long brown hair and lots of make-up. She was chatting on the phone and painting her nails hot pink.
Spike meandered over to the desk and hung over the counter, watching her.
"Just a moment, sir," she told her and turned back to her phone call. "Well, Claire, I totally have to call you back later, because something like, just came up...uh-huh, I'd say a good something, definitely. Yeah...hmm...well, okay, then. Bye!"
Spike just kept staring at her. "Um...Sir? I can help you now..."
"Was that a work related call?"
"What?!"
"Was that a work related--" Spike repeated.
"I heard what you said. And it's none of your business...but no, it wasn't, " she interrupted and stood, pouting over the counter at him.
"There a pianist around here?"
"Not now, sir."
"I noticed," Spike said shortly. "Well...what about later? Is there a pianist around here then?"
"Yeah, maybe," she shrugged and became deeply engrossed in some teen magazine.
"Well...you wanna tell me or what? What's his name? What room do you have him in? When did you last see him? "
"Sir, it is not your place to ask about our other customers and besides, I'm not allowed to tell you," she said prissily.
Nonchalantly, Spike reached beneath his coat and pulled out his gun. The clerk screamed, but Spike dug deeper into his pockets. "Aha!" He cried, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it. The girl was too terrified to point out the blatantly obvious no smoking sign.
Spike looked down at the gun in his hand as if seeing it for the first time. "Goodness, how did I happen to be carrying this dangerous, deathly weapon around, near innocent civilians? Gosh, what if it accidentally went off!"
The girl turned pale. "Please don't shoot me!" She whimpered.
"Say," Spike said, turning serious, "I don't have time for games. How 'bout you tell me straight if there's a pianist around here or not?"
She gulped nervously and nodded. "Kind of tall, dark hair and real dark eyes, too. Been staying here the past couple days-pays his way in playing for free for us."
"Good...keep going," Spike prodded.
"He's got some gig in town...Joe's Bar, maybe. Or a girl, there. He goes everyday. Real quiet guy."
"What room is he staying in?"
She tore her frightened eyes away from Spike's gun and looked him up in the guest register. "207. Second floor; fourth door to your right."
"You wouldn't happen to have found a spare key of his just lying around?"
With trembling fingers, she handed over a spare.
"Well, I'll just return this to him, then," he smiled, "now don't go mentioning me to anyone...all right? Lemme have a room on the second floor."
"Room 200 is open...here's the key," she tossed him both keys and slowly backed up until she was standing with her back against the wall.
"Thanks, miss. Be careful now...you never know who might walk in..." He tucked the gun back away and walked off, whistling. The girl fainted, but when she came to in the manager's office, she said it must have been the heat and never mentioned Spike.
***
A/N: All I have to say is, Spike is my hero. Thanks again for reading, and don't forget to review! ~CronoCat =^_^=