Wow. I don't want to know how long it's been since I last updated Ringmaster. I had part of a chapter sitting around, so I've decided to thank the recent reviewers of my long-neglected story with an update(it's short -- I'm sorry). I promise that I'll try to focus on updates for both of my stories this summer. Thank you.
To be honest, I had some difficulties with this chapter; I wasn't really sure how to handle the relationship between Billy and Velma. Seeing as how we don't get to witness too much interaction between the two in the film, I don't have a lot to work with. Although it may appear to be heading in that direction, I don't particularly like slashes, so don't expect one; in my opinion, there's nothing more blasphemous to a character. Disclaimer: Same as always.
Ringmaster
Chapter Three - "Infamy"
At first, the woman seemed to be precisely what he'd expected. Hell, she was more typical than even he could fathom. Velma Kelly was just the most recent victim of the great defiler that was Chicago. He knew that she was guilty immediately; she was a goddamned beacon of guilt. Of course, I knew before I got here. They always are. Experience never lied. It didn't matter, anyways; not if she could pay for his services.
"My name is Billy Flynn." he'd said. She'd grinned smugly, offering her hand in response to his introduction. Wonderful. He bent over it, lifting the silken slope of her knuckles to his lips. Sometimes I swear the money isn't worth it. Maintaining the amiable expression he strictly reserved for business, the lawyer hastily motioned the murderess into one of the three chairs pulled up to the repulsive table. When she had seated herself -- rather reluctantly, he noted -- Billy set to pacing the wall opposite her seat; Velma's eyes followed.
"Look.. Miss Kelly," the rhythmic tap of his patent-leather shoes paused as he swiveled to face her, "Before you get too comfortable, you should understand that my fee is five thousand dollars." At this, she merely arched a brow, reclining more casually into the chair. She might as well have been draped over it. Oh, yes; he knew her type.
"Well, Mr. Flynn," she smiled innocently, extracting a cigarrette from the front of her blouse and setting it between her lips, "Are you worth five grand?" Ha, ha. He exhaled calmly and deliberately.
"You won't find anyone better in this state, doll," he forced a pleasant -- not a trace of the shyster's overwhelming impatience; he prided himself on this particular talent -- smile, holding her gaze, "My record is testimony enough. Never lost a case." This, at least, seemed to have caught her interest. Momentarily.
"Never?"
"Never."
She pulled at her cigarette distractedly, her eyes suddenly shifting as though she'd discovered something of interest clinging to the ceiling tiles. In this place? It wouldn't surprise him in the least if she had. His attention remained fixed on her. If she planned on hiring this particular attorney, this move of inattention was a mistake. Should Billy Flynn spot hesitation where payment was concerned, he was out the door. She was on his time. Next. He regarded Velma for a thoughtful moment before crossing the room to liberate his possessions from the chair across from her. She was jerked, alarmed, back into reality as he approached.
"Where are you going?" She demanded. He tipped his hat to her before settling it over his brow.
"You obviously don't like my price. Let me know if you change your mind. You may," he pushed his arm through a sleeve, "Make an appointment with my secretary.. or something." Billy picked up his briefcase.
"Good luck, kid." He started toward the doors. She gaped.
"Now, wait one minute. I didn't say no." She leapt to her feet, knocking her chair to the floor with a wincing crash. Sprinting, Velma managed to slip herself between her would-be counsel and the exit, halting his retreat with a firm hand against his chest. "You're not going anywhere." The woman was truly a force of nature. He afforded the hand a single, distasteful glare before tilting his crow's eyes up to meet hers.
"Oh, you've got the money, then?" He was impelled to speak softly; there was distressingly little distance between their faces. He had to beat down the impulse to regain the slightest amount of personal space with a backward step. As though this were not enough, she then proceeded to lean in ludicrously close. Goddamnit.
"I do," the murderess purred. Her eyes wandered boldly over the stony plane of his face. "You'd better be damned good." The entire situation was becoming impossibly funny; it really was.
"I assure you that you'll have no reason to be disappointed, Miss Kelly." He smiled as she pulled back to regard him a bit warily. Several moments passed before the counselor broke the silence, plucking his client's wrist unceremoniously from his lapel and reaching around her for the doorhandle. "I'll return tomorrow. You'll pay me then," he opened the door, waving a finger under her nose, "and we'll talk." Billy Flynn then slipped away, leaving Velma Kelly to gaze thoughtfully after him.
Billy was roaring with laughter when he'd made the first corner down the hallway and doubled over with helpless hysterics by the time he'd crawled into the back seat of the car. The somewhat bewildered driver, unacknowledged by his employer, had merely offered a polite(albeit perplexed) smile. Flynn threw himself into the leather seatcushion, dabbing furiously at the corners of his eyes with a scarlet handkerchief.
Oh, yes -- this one was going to be fun. He sat back, blinking away tears and wrestling the convulsions into a light chuckle. Why was he laughing? It had been ages since a client had made him laugh; most knew better. Actually, it was.. kind of refreshing.
The driver's eyes peered cautiously around the front seat.
"Would you like to go home, sir?" He asked nervously. His employer looked up, seeming to have noticed the other man for the first time. His face was suddenly bisected by a genuinely pleasant smile.
"Home? Sure, why not." So he went home.