3/3
It had been months since she'd seen him look so beat up. He staggered into the room, still bleeding, and she ended up helping him clean wounds and bandage them with scraps torn from his tattered shirt.
"Spot, what the hell…?"
"It's over," he sighed. "I'm gonna lose. For the first time in my life, I'm gonna lose, an' they'll kill me."
"What?"
"I had ta come see you one last time, Caroline. Ta let you know it was the last time. They want me dead, an' I ain't got the manpower ta take 'em on."
"Can't you get away?"
"I don't run away."
"But if they're going to kill you—"
"I don't run away from fights," he said stubbornly. "I gotta fight, even if I'm gonna lose, otherwise I'm just a bully with a temper. An' if they get me, they'll prob'ly go easy on my boys. So I can't run away. I can't."
"Spot, please. Don'—"
"Sean," he said.
"What?"
"My name, my real name. Sean. Ain't no one around who knows it no more, but I feel like, if I die an' no one knows it… 'S like I was never alive, not really. Sean Conlon was a pretty good guy, better 'n Spot Conlon was. I want someone to remember him when he's gone. An' Caroline, ain't no one I trust as much as you, so there ain't no one who knows Sean as well as you." He gave a short, desperate laugh. "I soun' crazy, talkin' like there's two a' me."
"I understand," she said quietly. "It's like there's two a' me, too."
"Whaddaya mean?"
"You'se the only john I ever told my name to. Anyone else who asks, I give 'em a line or a lie, 'cause there's… There's a difference between what I'm like, in here, and what I'm like when I ain't at work…"
"I wish I could a' known you when you wasn't workin'."
"You do, Sean," she answered. "You know me real good, the real me."
"Then I wish I coulda taken you out for that dinner."
"Tell ya what," she answered. "You find a way outta this—I don't mean runnin' away, I mean findin' a way to win—an' next time you'se here, you an' me will go out for dinner."
"I ain't gonna make it, Caroline. There's no way, I just ain't got enough people to turn the tide. I… I give 'em me an' my boys'll be okay. I hope. 'S the only hope I got."
"No," she said stubbornly. "You can't just lose, you don't ever lose. You'se Spot Conlon, damn it, you never lose!"
"There's nothin'—"
"More people," she said. "Do you got any friends, anyone else who can come help?"
"Yeah, but I can't get to 'em. I mean, I got friends in Manhattan, but I also got guys followin' me everywhere I go. They's waitin' for me outside, now. I can't get to Manhattan, they'll kill any a' my boys who try to get there, an' anyone from Manhattan who tries to get a message to me. There ain't no way—"
"I could do it."
He stared at her. "What?" he asked.
"Unless you been tellin' people you'se real good friends with a whore, none a' your kind a' people know I exist. Anyone aroun' would just think you was here wit' any ol' girl, for a last night a'… You know."
"Yeah, but…" he trailed off. "You know, you could do it. You could almos' do it, if you waited until mornin' so nothin' looked that suspicious. I don' think anything'll be comin' until tomorrow night, maybe even later… You could get a message to Jack an' if he an' his guys could get here in time, we could get the jump on those bastards an'—Mary Mother a' God, Caroline. You'se right, I jus' might come through this." He paused, then, "But if anyone figures out you got a message from me, your life won' be worth spit to 'em."
"Don' worry."
"I don' wanna put you in danger."
"I wouldn' be in any more danger than I am anyways, just 'cause you'se here. No one'll know if you said anything or not, an' people prob'ly wouldn' even think about it. After all, I'se just a whore."
"You ain't. Not to me. You promised, Caroline. You said that if I found a way to get through this, we'd go out."
"Yeah, but I found the way, didn' I?"
He rolled his eyes. "Same thing. I'd a' thought a' it in a minute or two."
"Sure."
"I would a'. 'Cause I didn' want to die, an' I would a' thought of a way out a' it. You know me, I always win somehow."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Jus' shut up an' let me take you to dinner after the whole thing is won, okay?"
She smiled. "Okay, Spot. So what's this message? Who'm I gonna go talk to?"
For the first time, she got to see what he was like when he worked. He was all business and no play, but soon she could repeat the message back to him verbatim, and had the directions to his friends in Manhattan memorized.
He felt more confident by the time he left, but she was still scared for his life.
--
It had been more than a week since she'd run Spot's errand, with no word from him. She'd promised not to go looking or ask around, just in case someone suspected anything; in return, he'd promised to come let her know how things turned out as soon as he could, assuming he survived. And the more days that went on without word from him, the less likely it seemed that he'd be showing up at all.
And then her door opened; her last customer of the day. It was him, and he just stood there in the doorway, leaning against the frame, smirking. "Spot!" she gasped.
"In the flesh." He stepped inside the room and nudged the door with his foot.
She grinned. "You don't look much worse for wear, where the hell have you been? I been worried sick about ya."
"Didn' want no one to jump to conclusions about my new messenger, so's I couldn' get back too quick. An b'sides, I been healin' up."
"You get hurt bad?"
He shrugged. "Bad enough that I couldn' walk for a day or two. Had ta bust a few heads then, convince the boys I was back in shape, but it worked out awright. Jack's boys turned the tide, an' I'm back on top."
"The a metaphor or somethin'?" she asked, and winked. He laughed.
"Actually, I jus' wanted ta take you out, like you promised. But I did have ta pay ta get up here, so…"
"So let's celebrate b'fore we go out," she suggested.
"That sounds fun."
They'd never seen each other in such good lighting before. The room where Caroline worked was lit by a few lamps, but the shades were all thick and colored and tinted the room to make it darker than it was. The curtains were always drawn, and it was night anyway. So they knew what each other looked like, but this was different.
"Caroline," Spot murmured, as they stepped outside the brothel, not hand in hand, but hovering close to each other. She turned away, not blushing but not really comfortable knowing he was staring at her. "You'se real cute."
"Shut up," she muttered. She really wasn't particularly pretty; she had perfectly ordinary features, with average brown eyes and average hair, just a touch darker than Spot's own. She got lost in crowds easily, which was just as well; she saw people she recognized from the brothel now and then, and was just as happy if they didn't recognize her.
Spot grinned and put an arm around her, guided her steps towards a small restaurant near by. It wasn't fancy or expensive, but they found a cozy table and ate their meal quietly. Breakfast for him; something heavier for her. He smiled and watched her eat.
It was strange, being out with a customer, but not altogether bad. She smiled back between bites. "Caroline," he said finally. "I'se real glad that I trust you."
"I'se glad you do, too."
"An' you know you can trust me, too."
She smiled. "I do." She reached across the table and they grabbed hands. Considering they'd already slept together, it wasn't much of a gesture, but it was enough. Neither one could have explained what they were to each other, but they were together. And it was enough.
--
Author's Note The end didn't turn out as well as I wanted it to; the last part is my least favorite. Hence the long pause between updates. (Well, that and being away.) But I enjoyed writing it, and I'm glad people seemed to enjoy reading it; it wasn't so bad for my first attempt at het. Heh.
Thanks to Frogger no Baka, Southern Spell, Brunette, lil ms kP, StormShadow21, and the Girl That Never Was for reviewing.