A/N: Hello All! Here's the much needed chapter 3 rewrite. I considered making this chapter go many different ways, but in the end, it'd be best to put it this way. I didn't want anything too horrible to happen to Mia in this chapter. ; ) Reviews are always appreciated. Part two of this chap. Should be up soon.
Chapter 3: The Party I
Saturday. The one day of the week you look forward to. Saturdays in Liberty mean one of three things; bargain hunting in Chinatown fish markets, the medieval millennium fair, or par-ta-ing!
Facing the mirror in a silky black full length dress, it's obvious what I'm doing tonight. I add some darker makeup around my chocolate eyes for a smoky look, and blood red lipstick to finalize the classic look. The mirror is not deceiving, I look overly beautiful. I can't help smiling.
"My brothers, uncles, girlfriends, dad was named Joey… Kind of a creepy fella come to think of it… I can tell if this guy's legit or not— he's passes for legit if his car doesn't smells like cologne. That way you know he's not trying to cover up anything."
"Kate, what are you talking about?"
"Ahhh, Mia.. You always fall for the bad ones." Kate finished my hair elegantly up with a dramatic side part. A while back I dated this guy that was part of a gang without knowing...
"Kate! That was a long time ago!"
"...and you have the pepper spray and fog horn right?" she asks for the third time.
"Yes! Yes! Kate—got it all!" Her face contorts through the reflection.
"Sometimes I wonder about you, Amelia." I glare at her through the mirror. Brooke appears in the doorway.
"Aunt Mia! Your boooooyfriend is here!" Making a face, she exclaims. (Brooke is only 6. She's not my niece, but she calls me "Aunt" anyway because we live together like one big family. Brooke and her older brother Jimmie or "G-Dawg" as he likes to be called are both Kate's kids. There's also an old oriental woman living with us in our enormous house overlooking the water towards Staunton Island.)
DEEENG DOOONGA! The front doorbell rings. One last look in the mirror then I open the oak door. Joey's eyes lit up like they had in the auto shop.
"You look different when you're not soaking wet."
"I'm surprised you found this place ok."
Joey looked over the front lawn. "Anything. Let's go, food'll be ready soon." His accent is true Italian nature.
He slides over the leather into the exquisite black limo after me. "Anything to drink?" A secret shelf opens revealing champagne. "Wow. Thanks." My work is more important to me then guys at this point in my life, but getting out once in a while is refreshing. The massive Callahan Bridge to Portland passes over the limo. Chatterbox plays through the speakers.
"Hello Lazlow. I'm Leonard Nimoy. The following tale of alien encounters is true. And by true, I mean false. It's all lies. But they're entertaining lies. And in the end, isn't that the real truth? The answer is: No—" Joey is a surprising person. How he affords a limo and nice suit on the wage he's making, finding my hidden house in Shoreside alright, but most of all, Portland? Why are we here..? A red light pulls the limo to a halt.
"Why are we in Portland?"
"Lived here most my life… Ever been to Saint Marks?"
"Yes. Of course." Large buildings obstruct what little light is left from the dying sun. I give him a look.
"You look Italian yourself. But Trust me, this is where all the excitement is." He smoothes his collar.
The limo slows its pace once deep in Saint Mark's. Broken streetlights, bums, and excessive filth occupy much of the polluted industrial isle, Saint Marks could be the one exception. Hobos don't dare calling this section home; the mob has too much of an influence here.
"What, you've never been in Portland before?" He mused.
"Not at this time" I replied eyeing the large building.
"It's right inside" He nods.
Two huge metal doors with buff men on ether side mark the entrance to the 'club'.
"Al. Rob." Joey gestures to the guards. The one on the left, like a statue coming to life, turns and shoves An unlit stairwell gave way to a booming area. Neon lights pulse over a crowded, dark dance floor. An overwhelmed bartender manned an overly crowded bar.
"Is that Leone—you sly dog."
"Toni—eh! Good to see you." The purple clad-man made his way to the stairs.
"Not stayin' for dinner, Toni? Thought you liked spaghetti." Toni turned around from halfway up the stairs.
"Naaaa, mum's is better you know? She wouldn't like me stayin' here. Oh yeah—" Takes a few steps down the stairs— "You were right about our favorite cleaner— he kicked the $h!t out of those greaseballs! Got somithin' that needs takin' care of—"The loud music of Rise blotted out his words. Impatiently, he darts up the stairs.
"Ahhh, family friend you know?" Joey smiled. He pulls me through the steamy crowd.
"You like Mr. Wong's!?"
"What!?" I yell over the noise.
"Mr. Wong's?" Joey heaves open heavy doors at the rear of the club.
"Yeah, sure—If it ain't Wong's it ain't white— why?"
The door closes behind us, sealing out the pulsing noise. The scene morphs from edgy to formal in a matter of inches. Dark, Italian men in suits and women sitting in cheap dresses chat around a large blue-linen table waiting for food to arrive. A full-wall fish tank served as the only light source, along with candles dotting the table. Smoke and light from the glass candles lazily envelope the table.
"Woa. This is really nice." He nods looking at his friends.
"Lemme' introduce you to some of the guys… Tommy, Toni, Tedo, Luigi..." Joey and all his friends seem like one big happy 'family'. He introduces me to twenty people, I put my coat over a chair and finally make my way onto the crowded dance floor. Joey only danced for a few minutes, but this is fine by me. A bunch of my favorite songs came on and I just did my thing.
"Oh, I need to talk to someone—eh, get a drink. I'll see you in a minute alright?" Joey made his way to the bar leaving me alone in the crowd. Right..."The Seed" burst through the sound system. Oh yeah! I love to dance, and this is my song. Dancing figures and strobe lights closes in next to me.
/I would name it rock-and-roll/
Another song ends, the sweaty people in the mosh pit around me quit moving against each other. I am really enjoying myself! Where did Joey go?
"—I need to know about someone in town named Metziani. I've heard your good with rumors."
A taller, aggressive man and a shorter, British man argued at the bar. No sign of my 'date'. I struggled out of the pit and approach the two.
"What's it to you?" the British accented one downs another shot.
"It means I won't shove this barstool in your face." The smaller winced.
"—Well, he's been doing dirty work with the Forelli family in Saint Marks, stirred up some bad blood with the diablos been in the up an' ice—" The taller shoots a glare my way. Mr. British smiles and picks up a packet of sugar. "Drop your nametag love?"
"Heh, no— did you see a guy in a tux here a minute ago?"
"I'll be seeing you later." The taller one threatens the British guy. He shuffles away from the bar.
"Oh, him… Looking for some one. Apparently we all are these days… You need 'elp findin' that Italian bloke? Why don't you forget 'em baby. Give me your name and number and I could get back to you—how's about anotha' drink?" He motions to the bartender. "Your legs must be tired, runnin' through my mind all day."
"—No, Joey—something— have you heard of him?" He drums his fingers on the bar.
"I'm good wit' rumors and all that goes on this side of Portland, but only can think of one Joey at the moment..." His eyes me completely over. "But don't think you're hangin' around that bloke." Good with rumors? That got my attention…
I put on a flirty smile. "Oh really…" I located a tube of lipstick and run it slowly, seductively over my lips. "In that case I'll take your number big boy." Big boy?Ugh, Mia! He jumps and locates a crinkled napkin. He scribbles his number down and hands it to me.
"I'd like to call you
sexy. What's your number?"
"It's in the phone book."
"But I don't know your name."
"That's in the phone book too."
"—Mia!" It's Joey this time.
"Gotta go, I'll contact you soon." I held the napkin up. Mr. British frowns.
"Dinner's almost ready. You hungry?" Joey calls. I hurriedly catch up to Joey.
"I wanna give myself to you—tonight!" British called behind me.
Please… I don't accept cheap gifts. The only thing I'll be pumping you for, is information.Joey looked over his shoulder back toward the man at the bar.
"He givin' you problems?"
"heh, fogetaboutit." He smiled,
"Hey baby, good job back there." He complemented.
"Mia, There's one more person I want you to meet." More people…? Noooooo.
"Can we get something to eat first?" I plead.
"Yeah sure. Right in the room with the fellas I want you to meet."
'Fellas'… what is he talking about?
Joey lead me to the smaller, quieter, darker private room. Inside, the pulsing music fades and a large table with many people around it sit ordering meals. A private bar takes up a side of the crowded room. Joey walks over to one of the men sitting at the dimly lit table. I didn't really pay attention. Some Italian dinner smells good right about now.
"Mia! This is an associate of mine I want you to meet… Tanner Vercetti." Joey started behind me. Another one…? I turn around ——Him! I blink in shock. The freak I just chased down the other night!
Joey smiles from the other side of me, patting 'Tanner' on the back.
"He's crazy enough to fix anything—back at the shop. My pop, God rest his soul, would have gotten you far, friend." Joey smiles at him. A dark glint flashes behind Tanner's eye, otherwise he remained silent. How can you stand next to that man?
"One heck of a guy…" Joey pats him on the back.
"Tanner, Mia." He reaches his hand out. I reluctantly shake it. His eyes narrow slightly and he grins looking me in the eye, this time more warmly, but a weird aura surrounds him. Cold. Deep. Dark. We don't separate eyes until I take a seat at the oval table. I need to get to the bottom of this.
"Tanner works for you then?" Joey coughs on his sip of wine.
"Er—yeah. You know how it is in— in business." Two heavy set men laugh deeply across the table, clearly immersed in their own conversation.
"I'm sure you two work through a lot of problems."
Joey is part of the Leone family mafia. I just realize this. I know he looks familiar from somewhere… The organized crime bulletin board at the precinct has his face posted on it! He is to inherit the whole 'family' now that his father passed away.
I have to get out of here now. Tanner will tell them I'm a detective any second. Joey doesn't know I'm one… We never touched the subject of careers. How can I leave in the middle of the dinner? Steaming plates of spaghetti just started being passed around the fancy table. All the chatting Italian men (most of whom I've met earlier) and a few of their dates laugh at the sick jokes. The few other women at the table look like prostitutes. I fidgeted uncomfortable in my chair rubbing a ring nervously around. I glanced over at Tanner.
A silent, far-off look in his eye stills the scene around him. Apparently he finds the empty white plate in front of him fascinating. His posture and guard down, and without the heavy assassin leather bomber coat, Tanner could pass as a regular guy. His Polo shirt with chiseled arms… His hair precariously gelled. Those eyes… Wow, he is good looking... It wasn't an image formed through that blurry night.
He glances up at me suddenly. The candles on the table form weird light patterns over his dark brown eyes and spiky hair. I raise an eyebrow. 'Yes. I know where I am. Thanks.' I hold the gaze for a second. Then, I look at the ceiling, and laugh. Ironic and uncomfortable mixed into one.
"You ok babe?" Joey asked quietly to my side.
I looked at him now smiling. This is too funny. I am a detective! I should have known!
"You're part of the Leone mafia…Aren't you?" I quietly ask him.
His lips part to form a smile, when a fairly pretty, red headed prostitute with an annoying squeaky voice pipes up; "So you workin' regular for Joey now?" Men and women at the table started laughing/ snickering. The slut made eye contact with me. I think I know what she means. I blink a few times out of disbelief. Is this what Joey tells people? I am NOT a prostitute obviously.
"Maybe we can have a threesome later tonight if Joey wants to pay extra for you," I shake my head and look around at the dark laughing figures. That's it! Jumping to my feet I head for the exit.
WHA—WHACK! A spaghetti serving chef was standing right behind me! I collide into him, the bowl of steaming sauce flies into the air. Everyone gasps as the bowl gleams through the air. Meatballs fly at the 'formal family', littering the table and knocking over olive oil flasks. The large bowl—as if intentional—clanks right onto the red-head, covering her completely in red.
"YOU LITTLE—" I became focused however on the gushing olive oil. Shrieking men in dripping tuxedos jump to their feet, one knocking over a burning candle. In slow motion, like the gates of hell opening, flames snake over the soaked table clothe. Fire spread through the olive oil, chairs flipped over, and women scream.
"Oh my gosh!" I hit my head. OiA tuxedo clad man pushes past me trying to stop the blaze. Joey looks like he's seen a ghost. Ha, wish I had a camera. A picture of the golden boy now really would be worth a thousand words.
The fire obstructs the view of the room, immediately pushing dinner guests against the wall. Should I help?! The white table clothe becomes blanketed with black embers. Fire unpredictably clogs the air vents. Smoke wraps around my dress. A gob of spaghetti lands in my hair from another dress-clad female. She gives me a 'you-klutz' look and rubs sauce off her shoulder. Black smoke began forming in the dark stuffy room. Time to leave, Mia!
I distinctly heard 'BEEEP! BEEEP!' behind me pushing through the heavy oak doors. Gushing water followed immediately.
I stormed out of the 'private' room to the main dance area looking for my coat—I'm leaving now!
"Mia—" Joey's voice cut through the pulsing music. Out of the corner of my eye, pushing through people, I spot him hustling to get to me.
"Would you just listen?!" He grabs my arm turning me to face him.
"Don't touch me!"
"Geez—Sorry! I just thought you know! I am—ya' know—part of the Leone family Mafia." His Italian accent never fails him.
"No Joey! I didn't know—" My cheeks flush. "You know why I am leaving!? I am a detective! I try to get people like YOUoff the streets. Just last week I tried arresting your 'associate' Tanner!" Hand quotes on the 'associate' part. His face became that of surprise knowing someone like me is a detective. A tall, dancing figure bumps me. I drop my purse. Ugh! The pepper spray and cell phone 'clinks' near Joey's highly polished shoes.
I glance up at Joey, slowly retrieving the spray. He became oddly quiet for the first time I've ever been around him. A pondering, far off look of understanding crosses his face. Icy blue grey eyes meet mine as I stand. The song's fast beat fades into the distance as awkwardness passes through the air.
I face him— it's like he's holding back the urge to slap me— then turn to leave without another word.
You and your mafia friends can go ram each other up the $$.