The Other Side of the Story

Disclaimer: I own nothing about Chicago, I am simply borrowing its greatness to write fics. Whoot whoot.

Pop

"... so I took the shotgun off the wall and I fired two warning shots ... into his head ..."

That night at the Onyx had been pretty good - forgetting about work, watching the Kelly sisters and downing more than a few beers. But as the night wore on, it became pretty apparent that I was going to end up by myself again as the guys went off to seduce girls, one by one. I wished I could be like them - confident enough to make the first move. But every time they tried to set me up with some Velma Kelly look-alike I would turn into a stammering idiot and the girl would walk away before I even remembered to ask her name. Little did I know that this night would turn out to be different.

After knocking back another beer, I cast my eye around the noisy, smoky club, wondering if tonight was my night before lighting a cigarette and deciding that it wasn't. I was about to order another drink when I saw her. She wasn't the same as the other girls in the Onyx. While pretty much all of them sported an almost identical bob, her hair was long and wavy. The way she held herself was unique, too. Instead of looking up at all the guys and simpering, she was practically looking down on them - daring them to talk to her. It was different - it was sexy.

It wasn't until she turned around, saw me and laughed that I realised I was staring at her. Mentally, I slapped myself and hurriedly began smoking my cigarette again. A few minutes later, I snuck a look back to where she was, half-expecting her to be dancing with another bloke. To my surprise, she was still looking at me amusedly.

"So, are you gonna buy me a drink, or what?" she asked. Well, not just asked - practically yelled across the club. I felt my face heat up as a few of my mates looked over and cheered me on as I walked over to her.

I bought her the drink and a few minutes later we were talking and laughing like old friends. Liz - that was her name - wasn't like the other clone-girls. She was sassy, flirty and confident - and wasn't afraid to be direct. I was lighting up again when she frowned.

"Bernie, hon, could you not smoke? It's a horrible smell."

I raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"But this whole club is full of smoke. Why'd you come here if you hate it?"

"I work here. Gotta eat, don't I?"

"So, you're used to smoke, then."

"Bernie, please? For me? It's my night off, just this one little thing?"

And just because it was Liz who asked me, I put out the cigarette.

-------

A few months after we met, Liz moved in with me. There was only one problem - she couldn't stand the smell of smoke. We ended up pissing each other off over it until I decided to give it up just for peace. To compensate, I bought gum and chewed it instead of smoking. Fair trade-off, I figured. But Liz didn't like that either. Hard one to satisfy, I thought. But I decided that this time, she would be the one to make the sacrifice. Surely an occasional pop wasn't as bad as a smoky house. But I guess I thought wrong.

Liz would come home from the Onyx late every night, usually irritated. Sometimes I wondered whether we should call it quits, but every time she laughed, the little strains seemed bearable ... most of the time. One day I was looking for matches and couldn't find any.

"Liz!" I shouted. "You got the matches, hon?"

She didn't answer. I looked all over our apartment, and eventually found her sitting in a dark corner of the bathroom. She was clutching the pack of matches and lighting them one by one before they blew out. At least half the box was littered around her feet.

"Liz! What are you doing?"

"What's it look like?"

"What's the big idea? You've spent all this time wasting matches? We need them!"

"If you can pop that much gum, I can strike matches."

"So you want me to start smoking again?"

"Bernie!" She stood up and glared at me. "Just forget it."

-------

It was about twelve-thirty when Liz came home the next night. I was lying on the couch with a beer and some gum listening to 'Chicago After Midnight'. When I heard the door slam, I figured there would be fireworks. Bring 'em on, I thought. I was still annoyed about the whole matches thing. I grinned and started popping my gum. I wanted to piss her off.

She slammed her key on the table and looked over at me. I pretended I didn't see her. I chuckled to myself, picturing the fumes of irritation that would have been rising off her.

"Bernie," she whispered. "Some pervert tried to look down my shirt tonight."

I popped my gum, wondering where this was going.

"And?"

"Jesus! You're so insensitive!"

"Live with it, doll face," I chuckled, still popping.

"Bernie!"

Liz was screaming now. I kept on popping, enjoying its effect on her.

"Bernie, for God's sake, will you stop with the damn popping!"

"Calm down, babe, it's just a noise."

"Well, it's a bloody annoying one!"

"So what are you gonna do?"

She stormed over to the couch and switched off the radio.

"Bernie, I am at my fucking wit's end here. I've had a shit night at work - all I want is a little sympathy, and what do I get? A lowlife moron and his bloody gum."

I raised an eyebrow, smiled and popped it again. I watched as her hands began shaking and her face turned scarlet.

"Bernie, you pop that gum one more time ..." Her voice was dangerously low.

"What are you gonna do, Liz? Are you threatening me?" I smiled again, and got ready to pop my gum again, just to watch her turn purple.

But then she turned her back and I realised what she was doing. I tried to stop the pop, but it was too late - the noise seemed to resonate around the apartment. I looked up at Liz, who seemed to be driven by some insane force. I looked up the barrel of the shotgun she was holding.

"L-Liz, honey, I-I'm sorry! Really, I-I am! I -"

But I didn't get to say anymore. All I heard was a bang and then a second one before everything went black.