It Could Be Worse (4th Season)
Episode 9: Remember the Time…
By Sulia Serafine
[A Protector of the Small fanfic set in an alternate universe; all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me. Any other copyrighted things that don't belong to me in here in fact belong to other very businesslike people. Could you believe that? I guess that's why I'm broke.
E-mail me at silverwlngaol.com okay? And you know the drill: titles or subjects of emails are fanfiction.net, s.serafine, or icbw.
Rating of this episode: PG-13. Memories…. Nothing but memories… If you're a little abhorrent to the idea of Neal and his charming conquests, you might want to consider this R. But honestly, nothing really happens (though Neal would beg to differ).
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"You swear you won't tell Kel that we brought you here?" Neal asked.
"As long as you promise not to tell Kalasin," Cleon replied.
Dom snorted. "You're both pathetic. You should be able to go where you want without a woman's permission."
The other two men exchanged looks. Dom had obviously never had a woman in his life that wasn't his mother. But his mother didn't meddle in his adult life anymore, so he had no idea what it was like to have an adult female reprimand you time and time again for doing something he shouldn't have. In either case, Keladry and Kalasin could very well act like mothers—and scold like ones, too. The effect was that Neal and Cleon were paranoid of the chance that someone might see them and report them to their respective 'caretakers.'
"Let's just enjoy ourselves, okay guys? I'm finally sleeping in my own bed tonight and not Kel's couch," Cleon said. "We're in a bar, so let's drink already."
Dom shook his head. He didn't approve and he didn't plan on indulging like his two companions. He liked to drink every now and then, but since Cleon had returned home, it was all the redhead wanted to do. The only reason Dom was even there was to drive them home. They would have gone without him anyway. At least he could keep them out of trouble.
As the days had gone by, things had mostly returned to normal. Cleon got his furniture back and had returned to his apartment that day. Spending a week sleeping in Keladry's couch had given both temporary roommates a deeper appreciation for privacy. It probably would have been more convenient for both parties if Cleon had stayed with a male friend, but he'd just been too lazy after settling in with Keladry.
And honestly, neither Neal nor Dom wanted a moody redhead for a roommate, even if only for a week.
"You know what?" Cleon said suddenly, as he and Neal began their first round of beers.
"What?" Neal asked.
"Both Lalasa and Roald have lost their rings before."
Cleon's two companions gave him a skeptical look.
"What in the world are you talking about?"
Cleon nudged Neal with his elbow. "Oh, come on. You remember, don't you? Lalasa wouldn't let Roald have a big bachelor party, so we just took him for a guy's night out."
Realization dawned upon Neal. "Oh! That! When, uh…"
He was hesitant to say the next part due to the name he had to mention. Cleon took the next step and did it for him.
"Yes, when Fal bet Roald's ring and lost it in a game of poker. Poker king of the world, yeah right!"
Dom sipped his soda with an expression of incredulity. "You're kidding!"
Cleon shook his head, a slightly smug look on his face. "True story."
"Did he get it back?"
"Well, there's a ring on Roald's finger, isn't there?"
Neal rubbed his chin. "Man! I do remember that! Tell me, Cleon. How did it go again?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Flashback:
Roald looked around nervously. He trusted his friends with his life. That had been proven during their madcap adventure as fugitives that one fateful summer. But now as he stood sandwiched between Cleon and Neal in the crowded and brightly lit casino, he did not fear for his life as much as he feared for his money.
Faleron was practically waltzing on the cushy red carpet in front of them. His gray fedora was tilted on his head, with an ace of spades stuck in the band. He gestured around the numerous lights and decorations. He even indulged in wolf-whistling to a scantily and glittery clad woman walking around with drinks on a platter.
"Now, we can either start with the showgirls, the card tables, the slot machines, or the magic act—and I hear the magician is very good. Does this cute thing with doves that you can tell Lalasa about later to ease her fears and inhibitions about your last night of bachelorhood," he told them in an excited rush that caused them to take a wary step back. "So what will it be?"
"Can I try 'none of the above'?" Roald squeaked.
Neal was a little more receptive to the idea. "How about the showgirls? Let's see the showgirls! Large peacock feathers and sequins are very nice."
"How did I know that was coming?" Cleon muttered, his lips curling into a smile.
Faleron rolled his eyes. "Come on, Roald. Pick! It's your night!"
Roald blushed. He was normally a pretty levelheaded and calm individual, but the entire atmosphere of the casino disarmed him. He almost wished he was at home with Lalasa and the other women, watching their chick flick. Almost.
"I suppose the magic act doesn't sound too bad. Where is that?"
"Oh, come on. Are you sure you want to start with that?"
"You said it was my night."
"Well, yes, but the magic act is for when you're slightly inebriated and you can't think coherently enough to gamble."
"I don't plan on getting that inebriated at all, considering how early I have to wake up tomorrow for the pre-wedding preparations."
"Oh, let's just see the showgirls!" Neal inserted, starting to get impatient.
Faleron snorted. "That's the same argument as the magic act. You can enjoy that when you've got a buzz."
Cleon frowned. "When did we start talking about bees?"
"Oh, for goodness' sake!"
Roald frowned. "Can we just see the magic act?"
"I heard it was rather dull," Faleron said, hiding his mouth during an exaggerated yawn.
"Hey! But I thought you said it—"
"Does it really matter what I said? Because, after all, it is your night."
"But you just—argh! Okay! Card tables! Now!"
Faleron feigned surprise when Roald stalked past him and toward the green tables. He shrugged to his two other suspicious companions. With an innocent, "What?" he followed the groom-to-be while whistling and strutting in a most ostentatious manner. Neal and Cleon exchanged knowing glances before following their gamble-happy friend.
"Has he always been that manipulative?" Neal asked nonchalantly.
"Usually worse," the redhead replied.
After a few moments, Roald was seated at a Blackjack table with his three friends at his side. After a few rounds with the casino's dealer, Faleron nodded, impressed. He looked around and called a woman over who was serving drinks. He picked up a champagne glass and toasted to his marrying friend.
"What do you know! You have a knack for this!"
"I do?"
"Indeed!" Faleron downed the contents of the glass and handed it (more like discarded it) to Cleon, who rolled his eyes.
Neal decided he would see if he had a 'knack' as well. So, forgetting all about the showgirls with peacock feathers and golden sequins, he also moved his stool beside Roald and signaled to the dealer that he would like to join. The sounds of shuffling cards and slot machine noises from all around filled their auditory senses.
Now at this time, Faleron finally found the opportunity to sneak off to what he loved best. He clapped his best friend soundly on the back. "Cleon, now you better make sure that these two don't bet everything. I could just imagine the trouble they'd be in with Lalasa."
The sharpshooter pouted. He knew that his friend was up to something, but he didn't want to point it out. In his experience, the former thief was a very different person when around something that involved cards and money. Even if it was Roald's last night of bachelorhood, Faleron could not resist the temptation to settle down into a serious game and really make an extra buck.
Cleon liked playing cards as much as Roald or Neal did, but he was really much more interested in the idea of going to the magic act. And whenever Roald and Neal had lost a decent amount of money, they too would probably be more inclined to less risky activities. As punishment, Cleon decided, he would just simply forget to fetch Faleron whenever they left to see the magician.
"Go on, dude, get out of here," he told Faleron, who immediately grinned, squeezed Cleon's shoulder, and went on his (more than) merry way.
An hour later, Faleron had completely forgotten about his friends and Roald's pending nuptials. They had long since left the green tables. They were who-knows-where enjoying themselves without him. Cleon had probably filled them in on Faleron's preoccupations, making sure to smooth over any rough patches by saying to the groom that Faleron was probably winning some money with which to buy a "really dope" wedding gift.
The former thief made a mental note to consider that use for his newly won money.
He was feeling so confident that he did not even complete his usually thorough observation of a new player that had joined the table. He was a tall man. His graying blond hair was tied back so it hung past the nape of his neck. A short-cropped graying blond beard also surrounded his narrow lips. Faleron studied the man's brown eyes looking out over a long straight nose.
He thought that the stranger fitted the description of a retired COMscreen show wrestler. He had the swagger of one that was for sure. Faleron eyed the snakeskin boots underneath the table and the golden bolo tie at the man's collar.
What I've got, Faleron surmised, is a cowboy. This ought to be interesting. He brought his glass to his lips and took a long gulp.
He suddenly noticed something shine from the corner of his eye. His eyes flickered to it, though he continued to act as if he was studying his cards. The man wore a large golden ring on his middle finger with a green gem. Through the gem, one could make out a large black 'F' inscribed beneath.
It was made for me, Faleron thought a little giddily. (A few days later, Faleron would think that this sort of thinking had been the cheap champagne's fault.)
After a few rounds with the new player, Faleron had neither increased nor increased his winnings by much. He had done that purposely, to avoid labeling himself as a threat to anyone else's game, the stranger included.
"Hey, mister," he called to the man sitting on the other side of the table. The dealer looked between the two with a curious expression.
"Name's Stenmun," the man said, his deep voice having a delightful twang to the syllables. Faleron liked it. But not as much as that ring.
"That's a pretty nice ring you've got there. You wouldn't be interested in putting it in the pot this next betting round, would you?"
I've got a four of a kind. There's no way this guy can touch me. The odds are too good.
Stenmun looked his wiry opponent over leisurely. He could probably take Faleron down in a single punch. But of course, where would the fun be in that? He stroked his beard as he responded. "I might be. What sort of ring would you be throwing in if I threw mine in?"
Faleron felt the pocket lining the inside of his coat. A devilish smile graced his features. (In later days, he would call this devilish smile an insane smile.) He extracted two golden wedding bands, the smaller one bearing three petite diamonds. They were Roald and Lalasa's wedding rings, true, but he had no intention of losing them. He'd been entrusted the rings after it was determined that Cleon would probably lose them and that Neal was staunchly against all wedding-related things anyway.
"So what do you say?"
"I say you've got yourself a bet."
A few seconds later, the dealer had them lay their card hands down.
"A… a…" Faleron stuttered.
"A straight flush. Mr. Stenmun wins," the dealer said, gesturing to the tall bearded man. And there it was. Like clockwork.
Roald is going to kill me.
Stenmun gathered up the chips and carefully placed the two wedding bands in his own pocket. He then nodded his head to Faleron with a cocky grin and set off from the table, whistling. Faleron stayed glued to his stool for a few moments more, the blood draining from his face.
I can't believe that just happened.
"Wait! Wait!" he yelled as he jumped up and ran after the man. He almost collided into another woman making her rounds with champagne glasses. He excused himself hastily and continued after the blond bearded cowboy.
Stenmun was standing at the edge of the slot machines, lighting up a cigarette.
"Hey, listen! Can we play again? I've got to get those rings back!" Faleron pleaded, losing his usually smooth and calm demeanor. He had just lost one of his closest friend's wedding bands and the fact alone was enough to make him panic. He wasn't the type to usually panic, but this was just the sort of thing to set him off. Like a bomb.
The man laughed. He blew smoke in Faleron's face and continued to chuckle. "Well, I figured something must have been out of place for a guy to be betting a couple of rings like those. Couldn't resist."
"Please, sir! I'll give you all the money in my wallet right now if you'll just let me have those rings back!" Faleron practically begged. He was hastily retrieving his wallet from the rear pocket of his pants, but Stenmun held his hand up to signal him to stop.
"No, no. Not that."
"Then you'll just give them back and we'll forget it ever happened?"
"Now I know you ain't that stupid," Stenmun replied. He puffed on his cigarette. "Tell you what. We'll make another deal."
Faleron eyed him suspiciously. "What sort of deal?"
"You see, I used to have this real nice necklace—a classy little number with a bunch of diamonds. And being such a classy guy like I am, I let my girlfriend wear it to one of her shows." Stenmun casually blew smoke into his face again. Faleron coughed. "Now that damn minx, I had to dump her not too long after because I caught her flirting with old rich men, but she's still got my necklace. Do you see where I'm going here, young fella?"
The former thief sighed. "You want me to ask her for the necklace back."
"Ask? Please, sonny, that woman doesn't give anything back! You're going to have to steal it from her!"
Faleron gulped. Not that again.
"But you couldn't really call it stealing. The damn thing's mine to begin with!"
Trying to play off the innocent yuppie angle, Faleron held out his hands imploringly. "I don't know how to steal anything."
"Oh really, Mr. King of the Street Pirates?"
Oh gods….
"H-how did you know who I was?"
Stenmun shrugged. "Word gets around. You've been around this casino long enough. There are cameras around, watching you. Eyes checking up on you…"
The dark haired young man rubbed his temples stressfully. "Okay, okay. Where can I find the girl?"
"She works at the other major casino: Golden Chambers. Good luck. I'll be around here, waiting for you to get back."
"What does she do?"
"She's a showgirl or something. Her name's Blayce."
[Author: Hey, I thought it would be funny, okay?]
"Oh. Um, okay. I'll… see you back here later tonight, I guess."
Stenmun laughed again. "If you say so."
Faleron walked away, wondering if he could vomit behind a slot machine without being disturbed.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"Psst."
Neal glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his eyes to the performer in front of him. They had been watching the magician for a while now. The act wasn't so bad. Faleron had been right. The doves were sort of cute to watch.
"Psst!"
He turned, annoyed, in his seat to see whoever had hissed at him. He spied Faleron crouching in the aisle, beckoning him to come over. Neal turned and nudged Cleon, who in turn nudged Roald. The three men were irritated that they would have to leave the show so prematurely. They nonetheless followed their fourth bachelor party member outside the room back into the regular lighting.
Faleron was pale. He didn't appear nervous so much as he did apologetic.
"What's going on now?" Roald asked, exasperated.
The former thief licked his lips. "Well, Neal! You did say you wanted to see showgirls, didn't you?"
He explained to them only the things that he thought they needed to know. So it seemed to them that he had gambled a lot of money and subsequently lost it to a man to whom he now owed a service: to steal back this necklace that an ex-girlfriend had taken with her during the split.
Roald groaned instantly, mapping out the implications of this deal. All he had wanted to do was spend an enjoyable night with the guys. He had other things to think about! Like tuxedos and his smothering parents coming up from Tortall.
"And what will happen if we don't get the necklace back?" Cleon asked.
Faleron appeared grim. "Then someone is going to die tonight." Yeah. Me. By Roald's murderous hand.
"I don't like the sound of this Stenmun guy," Neal commented, misconstruing Faleron's response. "We can just arrest him on some extortion charge. I'm sure he probably has one already, with your description."
"Okay then, dudes! Let's go to the Golden Chambers and see this chick about a necklace!" Cleon cheered, trying to be the optimistic can-do spirit of the group. They ignored his sprightliness (what else could they possibly call it?) and made their way out of the casino to trek across the downtown area.
The city no longer seemed as bright as it used to for the four men riding the city bus to the Golden Chambers Casino & Hotel. Save for Faleron, none of them had been all that aware of the high-rolling nightlife available in Tusaine. They had occasionally gone out to dance clubs or perhaps pool halls and bars, but never something so grand and well-invested. Coupled with the knowledge of seedy, mysterious characters like Stenmun walking about, the four men suddenly found themselves less enamored with the city than they had been an hour ago.
Neal missed Tortall. He vocalized his displeasure, and was gratified to hear that the others felt the same way about their respective homes.
Again with the exception of Faleron.
"I like it here. I'll just have to learn how to avoid…"
"Gambling?" Cleon inserted.
"I was going to say 'losing,' but I suppose I could cut back on gambling just a little," he replied. He ran his hands through his hair. His fedora was in his lap. "I'm quite surprised. This hasn't happened in a long time."
Roald slumped in his seat. "Well, you're not perfect."
Faleron appeared ruffled. "I beg to differ!"
They disembarked from the bus in front of the Golden Chambers. This particular casino was one of two major establishments of the kind in Tusaine, what people would consider was the rival to the casino that the men had spent their night in thus far. A wall of blinking golden lights nearly blinded them as they stepped onto the sidewalk. Several large signs advertising attractions inside appeared to be larger than the very buildings that they lived in.
At least, it seemed so. Faleron did not seem impressed. He had obviously seen bigger and better. With a little snort, he gestured for his friends to follow him inside to the lobby.
The din of noise that had been omnipresent at the last casino was here as well. There was music playing in the background. It was then drowned out by the clicking and ringing of slot machines and other delightful inventions and games that humans had devised to win money from each other.
Faleron looked around, obviously in an irritated mood. "Where in the world are we supposed to find this Blayce?"
Cleon tapped his shoulder. "Over there."
The shorter man whirled around. His eyes widened slightly. In front of him was a framed poster on the wall with many mini light bulbs surrounding it. It wasn't just any type of poster however, but one of the 3-dimensional holographic kinds that had started to grow in popularity. The poster projected the real-size illusion of a slim woman with tan skin and wavy black hair. She was also seen to be covered in a diamond covered costume accented with sheer golden material and several silken scarves trailing from the back of her waist. A veil covered the lower part of her face. It was an obvious farce on Bazhir culture.
"'Blayce the Beautiful and her Ninety-Nine Harem Sisters,'" Neal read. He coughed nervously. "Well! I think we've got her."
Cleon grinned. "You can stop drooling now, Neal."
"Do you really think there are ninety-nine of them?"
Roald elbowed both men in the side. "Let's get down to business. I just want this night to be over so we can go home."
Faleron nodded. "Well, at least we know where we can find her. She's the star, after all. She's bound to have her own dressing room, right?"
Three pairs of eyes glared at him, reminding him that this was all his fault and they weren't going to forget it.
"Right," he coughed uncertainly. "Here's the plan…"
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Roald looked to Cleon nervously. "I hope this works."
"I'm sure it will. Fal always figures his best plans out within seconds. Really. Trust me on that one."
"His best plans within seconds," he echoed mistrustfully. "You know, I have to get married tomorrow!"
The redhead patted him on the back. "I know, I know. Hey, if it looks like you're going to get caught, I'll sacrifice myself so you can make a run for it. Fair?"
"Thanks. Not that I'm sure that it will be of any help, but thanks."
"No problem. You ready?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
The two men turned the corner toward Blayce's dressing room. One large burly man dressed in black with a gold chain around his neck was standing guard. His bulk was impressive. They had very little doubt that he was well suited to his profession, even more so than necessary for just one casino star. In another world, the man could have been an overbearing gym teacher or perhaps a lumberjack. But alas, during this particular time and place and plane of existence, he was to block the young men's path to their ultimate goal.
"Excuse me! Sir," Cleon began, looking upward about half a foot to meet the man's gaze (which was really saying something, since Cleon was the tallest among his friends). "We were wondering… are you really as small as you look from a distance?"
The look of perplexity that crossed the man's face communicated that he had no idea what the redhead was talking about. After all, he was quite the giant of men. But then both Cleon and Roald's eyes flickered downward and all became clear to the short-tempered bodyguard who then, like a cobra, prepared to strike.
"Why you…" he growled menacingly.
"Run!" Roald cried out.
It was unnecessary, for Cleon had already pivoted on his heel and turned to flee. Roald followed quickly behind. He was not terribly athletic, but fear and survival instinct gave him wings against his would-be predator. The only difference between a hunt in nature and a hunt in men was that the bulky bodyguard would have no need to eat Roald's innards after catching him. For that, Roald was grateful.
But that did not ease his mind from the fact that if this man caught the two of them, they would most likely be beaten to a bloody pulp. And Roald was not all that sure how Lalasa would take to marry any sort of pulp. Even the Roald-pulp kind.
Meanwhile, unbeknownst to the distracted bodyguard who had abandoned his post, two other figures were stealthily making their way inside the professional showgirl's dressing room. They had no fear of security cameras because Faleron had already did a quick search with his eyes that left no detail overlooked. There would be no cameras inside the dressing room, since its occupant would most likely not want any security guards watching her undress.
Due to these facts, both men were able to release loud exhalations of relief at entering the dressing room restricted from public access.
"Hey, someone left her roses," Neal observed, picking up a bouquet and inhaling its fragrance. He inspected it for a card.
Faleron began sorting through the drawers of the showgirl's vanity table. He was thankful for the tacky assortment of light bulbs surrounding the mirror. It gave him more than enough light to complete his search.
"Makeup, more makeup… feather boas…. Eww, hot pink," he muttered absently, sticking out his tongue in revulsion. He continued his work.
"Well?" Neal asked after a while, having taken a seat on the cushioned chair a foot away with the roses still in his lap.
The former thief tried another drawer, only to discover it was locked. "Aha! I think we found the right drawer. Let me get my tools out."
Neal raised one eyebrow suspiciously. "And you just happen to carry your little picks with you even to a bachelor party? I thought you'd sworn off all that thievery."
"I did. But you never know when it could come in handy."
His companion mulled over the words and decided it was a pretty piece of wisdom after all.
There was a noise outside the door. Both men froze, instantly looking to each other in immediate shock. Faleron's lightning quick thinking told him to duck under the vanity table, where someone's legs would be had she pulled her chair up right in front of the mirror. Neal moved as well, but Faleron quietly hissed at him to stop and stay where he was.
"What?"
Faleron rolled his eyes. "Trust me! Hold the roses! You always claim to be a ladies man, now prove it!"
And yet again, one of Faleron's split-second plans came into play. It was like days of old when he had grown accustomed to thinking out every possible choice within moments and deciding which was the best. He had not used the skill in a long time and was now very pleased to see that he still had it. He was actually more than pleased because it meant that he and Neal would live to see another day.
The arrangement of the room was such that the vanity table was along the wall to the right of the door as someone walked in. Yet the door was close enough to this wall that someone in Faleron's hiding spot would be well hidden as long as the observer's attention was drawn anywhere below waist level.
Against the far wall was a transportable clothing rack with numerous costumes, mostly different colored scarves or scarves with tiny rhinestones imbedded in them. Neal squashed the urge to dart behind them. Yet, he still found his feet tingling to go hide as the door began to slide open.
The woman from the holographic poster stepped through. Her gaze had been cast downward at first, so she did not see Neal until she decided to look up. Her kohl-lined eyes widened instantly. Before she could speak or cry out for security, Neal stood up from the seat and held the roses up. He presented to her his most intriguing, but non-threatening face. He'd been somewhat out of practice, but he hoped his charm was still there.
"Hello, please don't be scared. I've been waiting here for you. Miss Blayce," he said huskily. "I know I think this same thing every time I see you, on stage or walking by, but you are so beautiful that I do not know what else to do with myself but continue to look and breathe."
Well. I'll have to give it to him. That didn't sound half bad, Faleron thought from beneath the vanity.
The showgirl headliner appeared to be placated for the moment. She rested her hand against her throat and inquired with a throaty voice, "Just what is your name, then, pal?"
Neal took a tentative step forward and offered her the roses. She took them into the crook of her arm. He smiled. "This admirer's name is Faleron."
Oh, I'm going to get you for that, Faleron promised, narrowing his eyes warningly at his friend. Neal did not catch the look, for he was still staring into Blayce's eyes in hopes of mesmerizing her.
Blayce regarded Neal with appreciation. She reached out and touched a wavy lock that had fallen across his forehead. As she approached, Neal realized that she was getting too close to the vanity. He shifted sideways back toward the door so that her own back was to the vanity. Blayce moved accordingly, without knowing she was doing so. Below, the hiding former thief let out a silent breath of relief and proceeded to get his tools out to work on the lock. He carefully snaked out an arm from his cubby-like space and touched the drawer lock.
As long as Neal can distract her, I can work.
"You know, I've never dated a guy with green eyes," the woman confided in Neal, giggling slightly.
Neal was suddenly remembering how it felt to be eyed like a piece of meat. He forced himself to grin. Though the woman before him was, he had to admit, very attractive, he couldn't help but realize that he had unknowingly developed an affinity for Eastern Yamani women. This specimen of female in front of him actually brought to mind a praying mantis—for what reasons, he had no idea.
"What kinds of guys have you dated?" he asked casually, trying to sound curious and absorbed about everything about her.
Blayce flipped her long hair over her bare shoulders. At the moment she was wearing a rhinestone studded black halter top and a very short blue skirt that shimmered silver at certain angles. The ruffles tickled his legs through his pants even as he drew closer against his own better judgment.
"Oh, just big brutes who don't know how to treat a lady."
"That's funny," Neal replied. "I always figured a beautiful woman like you would have gotten any millionaire passing through here with just a snap of your finger."
"Oh, please. I don't need to do that. I'm already rich," Blayce laughed, tossing her head back flirtatiously. "I buy my own diamonds and some of the diamonds for my girls. If the girls steal them or the hotel loses them, I collect on their value in insurance—and a little more." She giggled again. "What would I need with some ugly old millionaire?" Blayce suddenly grabbed Neal's shirt and pulled him against her. "When I could have some hunk like you?"
She had stepped backward against the vanity and dragged Neal with her tightly so that the sudden movement trapped Faleron's outstretched arm. He stared at the woman's calf fearfully. If she moved an inch more, she would touch him. And he was about to pop open the drawer, too!
Neal fought the urge to shriek (not only in violation of his body, as he deemed it so, but for Faleron almost being caught). He chuckled to hide his anxiety and did the only thing he could think of.
He took Blayce by the waist and hoisted her up, depositing her on top of her vanity. As soon as he did this, the showgirl took this for a delightfully aggressive move that she countered with one of her own. Namely, she pulled him forward even more and wrapped her legs around his waist. Before Neal could cry out (forgetting to pretend to be interested in her), she grabbed both sides of his face and yanked him down to kiss her.
Faleron took advantage of the situation and opened the drawer. He was grateful that Neal's legs were far enough over that he could fit his head through the given space and look inside the drawer. As he felt around the boxes, he found numerous pieces of jewelry more expensive than all his belongings combined. He pushed aside boxes filled with sapphire necklaces and gold and silver and desperately sought the heavy diamond necklace that a man like Stenmun would own just for the sake of owning it.
He finally closed his hand around a black velvet box that was long and rectangular. He popped it open one-handed. Faleron grinned when he saw the necklace inside. He took the box out and quietly closed the drawer. He withdrew his arm to put the box down in his lap. Faleron laughed inwardly as he noted the muffled sounds of pleasure coming from Blayce's mouth. He tapped Neal's foot to signal to him to get Blayce out of the way so he could sneak out from beneath the vanity.
"Hey!" Neal said breathlessly, pulling his face away from hers. "Let's go behind that clothes rack. I don't want your security guard to come in here when he comes back to find us like this."
"Right!" Blayce agreed. She licked her lips. "Last time Maurice caught me with a guy in here, he broke ten of his bones and sent him to the ER." She giggled and leaned forward to nibble on Neal's ear. "I suppose that's what I get for hiring my older brother."
Neal paled. Luckily, she didn't see it with her attention still on Neal's earlobe.
Muttering a prayer to the gods that she deliriously mistook for "dirty talk," Neal picked her up again, her legs still clamped around his waist, as he took them behind the clothes rack. Faleron quickly scrambled out and ran to the door. He pressed his ear against the door to listen for Maurice. He heard nothing. His hand reached for the button to slide the door open.
"Oh Faleron!" Blayce gasped. "You wild love monkey!"
Faleron shuddered and pressed the door button. He ran out and into the crowds of the casino.
The showgirl's head darted through the clothes rack and peered at the door skeptically.
"Did you hear that?" she asked.
Neal coughed nervously. "No. Oh, but look at the time! You have to get ready for your show! I should probably go—"
"We still have time," she purred as she yanked him back behind the clothes rack. Neal gulped.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Roald and Cleon were hiding in the branches of a tree several blocks away when Faleron paged them. With the box in the inside pocket of his jacket where the rings had used to be, he walked casually up to the tree at the sidewalk and looked up into the dark shadows of foliage.
"You can come down now."
"Oh, man, do you owe us!" Cleon exclaimed as he leapt down the six feet to the ground. Roald more cautiously shimmied down the trunk instead. Both men began dusting themselves off.
The groom-to-be frowned. "Where's Neal?"
"Um… still behind enemy lines, I guess you could say." Faleron shook his head. "He'll be out in a few minutes."
Cleon clapped his hands. "So let's see this necklace that we almost got caught for! I tell you, that guy would have had us if Roald hadn't beaned him in the head with his shoe.
Faleron immediately looked down at Roald's feet to discover that the Vice President's son was indeed missing half his pair of shoes.
"Yeah, well, a guy's got to do what he can," was Roald's flushed face reply.
"So come on! Let's see it!" Cleon goaded.
Faleron beckoned them closer to block anyone else passing by from seeing. He then took out the box from his coat and opened it in front of them. At once, an intake of breath could be heard for the other two men's reaction to the diamond masterpiece in front of them.
It was a choker with triangular dips of diamonds dripping off of it. If one were to lay it out in a circle, it would almost resemble a large snowflake with all its icy glory. Each diamond shone with its own brilliance almost as if it were a source of light by itself. Faleron snapped the box shut for fear of someone watching them. He slipped the box back into his jacket.
"I need to stop by another store on the way back to the casino," Faleron told them. "A toy store, to be exact. I'm sure there's one open still. It's not that late."
They were about to ask why when they saw Neal over Faleron's shoulders. The last member of their party walked toward them with his jacket slung over one shoulder. The first few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned. And there were obvious smudges of lipstick on his lips and jaw.
Faleron's lip twitched. "Way to take one for the team, Queenscove."
Neal shrugged shamelessly. "It was hard work, but someone had to do it."
Cleon's gaze zeroed in on a part of Neal's skin revealed by his unbuttoned shirt. "Is that a hickey on your chest?"
Neal clutched his shirt closed. "Um, I don't know what you're talking about."
He endured teases and playful shouts from his companions all the way back to the original casino they had been at that night. Now that the 'job' was over and they were out of danger, the four men found it easy again to become giddy and excited by just being with each other. They continued to joke and roughhouse on their entire trip back, even while waiting for Faleron outside of the toy store that he had broken into. (Whatever he got, he assured them that he had left money behind for it.)
Faleron went to Stenmun alone to retrieve Roald and Lalasa's wedding bands. Stenmun was very pleased with the success and offered Faleron a full-time place with him at another casino that Faleron readily declined. With one last look at the green gem ring that had gotten him (his ego, particularly) and his friends into this mess, Faleron turned heal and strode swiftly back out.
As they rode the bus home, Faleron asked Neal if he would mind investigating Stenmun at the station the next day after the wedding.
"Why would you want to do that?" Cleon asked.
"Oh, I'm sure the necklace isn't his. I bet he just wanted me to steal it from her instead of 'take it back.' While Neal was distracting her," here Neal blushed and looked away, "she was talking about how she was too rich to date men for their money. And so I got to thinking that she would have no need of stealing an ex-boyfriend's necklace."
Cleon nodded. "Dude! That's awesome! Way to fight crime, man!"
Roald rubbed his chin. "And just what makes you think Stenmun is even going to be at the casino tomorrow for Neal to go back and investigate?"
"Oh, that's because I gave him a fake diamond necklace," Faleron replied, too casually for their tastes. "I figured if he didn't own the necklace, he would have not cared which of Blayce's many diamond necklaces I had grabbed. I went to the toy store and compared the real diamonds with ones I would give him. I still have the real ones with me."
He patted his coatpocket to show where they were. The other three men exchanged wary looks.
Neal glared at him. "And just what do you plan on doing with those?"
Faleron smiled at him. "Well, you are going to deliver them back to her hidden among another bouquet of roses… Faleron!"
Neal punched him in the arm while the former thief laughed. Roald and Cleon watched them, completely muddled about the whole situation. Hopefully, Lalasa and the other women wouldn't ask them what they had done that night. None of them would be at all sure of what to say besides that the magician's doves were somewhat cute.
[End flashback]
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Dom looked at Cleon. "Is that really true?"
Neal looked insulted. "Of course it is!"
Cleon leaned toward Dom and whispered none-too-quietly, "Everything except the part where he got lucky with what's-her-name-Ms.-Ravisher."
"Liar!" Neal shouted.
"Please. The day that someone calls you 'wild love monkey' is the day that I go streaking through the city singing 'I Wish I were an Oscar Meyer Weiner,'" the redhead retorted.
"Oh. Wait, I thought you did that already—OW! Come on! Why does everyone always have to smack me?"
Dom snickered.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Author's Note: Yeah. So I figured we needed some comedy. And I figured that one last dose of Faleron would be a nice touch. Wasn't he such a cunning little guy?
Remember to review/email! Thanks for reading!
Sulia S.
6-6-2004