Happy Belated Groundhog Day. And now for the traditional Groundhog Day gift exchange…that's right folks, I give you chapter, you give me reviews!
And don't forget, it's tradition ^.~
6 Leather and Lace
I don't know how long I waited on the bathroom floor, just sitting there listening to Faye's breathing even out until she finally started to snore and it was safe. I crawled as carefully as I could to the dividing French doors. Spike had closed them when he left, and so I thanked God that when I opened them they swung back without a creak.
Unfortunately, my spot on the couch was gone. With his bed occupied, Spike had taken to the sofa. It was too small for him, so his head lay on one arm rest while his feet stretched far over the other. I stopped myself from grumbling and headed for the door.
The hall outside was thankfully empty, save for the two guards at Spike's door. I took at deep breath and tried to decide what I should do. I felt so exhausted that I knew I couldn't just hang out until everyone else was up and about again; I had to find a place to sleep.
Of course, it did occur to me that the Dragon's base was a hotel, so there assumably wasn't any shortage of beds. The problem was more along the lines of knowing what rooms were empty. I didn't think just moving down the line, knocking on doors would be a good idea. Even if I did find an empty room, imagine if the occupant had just stepped out and when he came back found me in his bed? Bad scenario.
I thought about going downstairs to the lobby and crashing on one of the couches, but there was no privacy there. I also considered going down and finding Bill, if he was still on guard duty, and getting him to find me a bed, but I ended up turning right around and asking one of Spike's guards (the one on the right) where I could find Shin.
"Suite," he grunted. "One floor down."
"Thanks," I said, although I think I sounded a little grumpy like I didn't mean it. I headed back for the fire exit stairs, only realizing as I made it to the lower landing that I could have used the elevator that time.
I'm almost positive that I woke Shin up, but the poor guy was pretty nice about it. "I need a place to sleep," I opened with, rather unceremoniously. I then realized that what I said could be a double entandre, and I rushed to make it clear, "Extra! Bed, that is. An extra bed. One—one of the spare rooms…that kind of extra…"
"Hmm?" he shook his head to wake up. His black hair swung into his eyes; whatever held it still during the day had apparently been washed out. "Oh yeah, sorry, I should have thought of that before…" he disappeared back into the room, rubbing his hair and making the mess of it bad enough to look kind of cool. The door had been left open and I followed him in.
Shin's room was exactly like Spike's in design, but it was a whole lot messier which I admit surprised me since Shin seemed so…I'm not quite sure if the word is 'upstanding' or 'uptight'. It was mostly laundry, cast aside in any direction. He definitely had more clothes than Spike, but they all looked pretty similar. Sort of casual dress—a lot of black.
But I could tell, by the whole lived in feel of this place, that this was what Shin considered Home. The room above had seemed so empty, but where I was I found myself attracted to Shin's dresser. It was cluttered and it felt familiar, like the kind of things you're used to seeing on a guy's shelf: old receipts, spare change, cigarette packs, and—well—bullets.
And there were pictures….
Lots of them, in various corners, it was almost as if he had a woman's sentimentality—of course I noticed that he was in most of the photos, so perhaps a woman had taken them. I occupied myself by looking at the various frames while Shim himself rifled through something on the other side of his own set of French doors.
I pointed out the first thing I'd noticed when he came back in.
"You're a twin," I stated what he most certainly knew already. I didn't catch his reaction because I was still bent far over to look at the tiny photo. Two heads of black hair, same face, but… "You're the one on the right, aren't you?"
I looked up to see his face set in awkward surprise. "Yes," he finally said. "How did you tell?"
"Your brother looks…kinda angry in this picture," I explained. The embarrassment node in my brain was finally starting to catch up with the rest of me and I realized I was pretty out of place. "I haven't seen ~you~ angry so…no basis of comparison…plus, the hair and all…different style."
"Yeah, well, Lin didn't know how to calm down sometimes," Shin sighed and sat down on the bed. He had a few stapled papers in his hand, and somehow he looked more like he'd just stepped out of the shower than out of bed, even though he was all dry.
"Anyway," he began in a different, conversational direction changing kind of tone. "The thing is this place really isn't a hotel—I mean, it ~was~ a hotel, and we still pretend it is to the public…long story short, we only supply power to the rooms that we use.
"There are plenty of spare rooms I could put you in, but they wouldn't have electricity…or water, or heat, and I'm sure that by now they'd smell pretty musty," he explained, cracking one of those smiles that look as if he's afraid to mellow out. "What I can do, is set you up in the room of one of the guys that's on duty. That way you'll have it to yourself for about six hours."
"That's fine," I assured him. "I just need some sleep, I wouldn't mess up anyone stuff or anything."
Shin nodded understandingly. "But one last thing, the shifts switch in a half hour, so if you could wait until then it shouldn't be a problem."
"Half hour," I repeated like a diligent parrot. "No problem." I tried to smile like that vacant smile you see some teens do to assure him I wouldn't be any trouble, but I didn't have the energy to keep it up. I sighed, weary and embarrassed.
"But can I hang out here until then?" I pleaded. "So far the only guys I'm not freaked out about meeting in the hall are you, Spike, and Bill, and I really don't want to stand outside playing Bellboy Buddy…plus, I don't think he'd appreciate it."
"Sure," Shin nodded, accommodating but not jumping through hoops over the idea.
What followed this was a long, very awkward silence and I seem to recall starring at my feet a lot. Scuffed shoes. I began to look elsewhere, back to the pictures. I had to squint to make out the little details. Shin kept shifting in his seat until finally clearing his throat. "Would you—er--like a drink, or—"
"Is that…" I interrupted him, getting to my feet again and scuffling over to the picture which had caught my eye. "This is it, isn't it?" I lifted the plastic frame off the dresser and pointed.
"Is what it?" he asked, coming up behind me to see what I saw. Shin was in the picture, Spike on one side of him and a woman on the other. The woman was the center of the image--- a gold haired beauty that reminded me of Venus standing on her seashell, pearl of the gods. She stood in the middle with men flanking either side—Shin on her left, Lin on the right.
But it wasn't her I was looking at.
I was looking at the man standing next to Shin's brother. His face was young but his hair was white. On one shoulder perched a bird with elaborate feathers, and peaking out from behind the other shoulder was the hilt of a sword. Marla's sword.
"That's that katana Marla bought!" I exclaimed, excited for some reason. "The one that belonged to…oh don't tell me, I know this… he's got a funny name like Spike…"
"Vicious."
"Yeah, that's it!" I lifted the photo up to look close at the man Spike had killed and replaced. There didn't seem to be anything special about him…other than that bird, and that wasn't so much special as weird. I sighed and returned the frame to its place. I couldn't help but wonder what I thought putting faces to names would accomplish.
"Sorry," I said. "I should just be minding my own business, huh? I just got a little excited about recognizing something; I've been confused all day."
My eyes were still on the picture. I stared at Spike and Vicious's tiny faces and wondered what that duel had been like. Was it Spike's dried blood on the sword like Marla thought? Had they both used swords, or had Spike used a gun and was that even fair? I remembered watching the news a year prior and seeing the Syndicate building half destroyed—surely swordfights didn't involve explosions. There was so much under the surface of this place.
"It's not your fault that you're here," Shin offered. I half expected him to punch me on the shoulder and say something like 'buck up, sport!'. That in itself was a strange image since girls don't get a lot of 'sport', and nobody says 'buck up' these days.
"But I am here," I muttered. I continued to stare at the picture, glaring at it sourly. I searched my mind for something to blame on Spike, but came up with nothing. I got the sensation that meant the back of my head was being stared at; I'd made Shin uncomfortable in his own room.
"I've got my own bed, you know," I suddenly said. "I really don't like this…asking for a bed when I've got one—Jerry was right, I should go home." I turned around to see if this had any effect on him, wondering if I'd be able to see the relief in his eyes at the thought of getting me out of everyone's way.
He shrugged. His eyes were closed. "Better not, there might be a mark on your head."
"Oh…right."
There was another one of those long pauses, but then, with much shifting of limbs, "Also…It might be a better idea to wait for Ms. Gatsby."
"Why's that?" I asked, even though I knew it was a good idea. Faye wasn't too nice about it, but she always looked out for me, and I needed all the extra eyes I could get.
"Well," Shin explained. "Leaving without her looks like you're leaving her to us."
"Getting out of her way, more like. Faye doesn't get left to things."
"It would also make it appear to the others that she's here to stay." I didn't see his point, and Shin probably could tell by my expression. He went on without waiting for me to add comments. "The thing is," he said, starting to get that weird nervousness in his skin, "some of the boys are afraid of her."
I laughed out loud. "Of Faye?" it felt strange and good to smile. "I mean, she acts a little scary but she's not dangerous if you don't threaten her."
Shin shook his head again, quickly, as if trying to ward off something invisible in the air. "It's not like that it's…" he trailed off, and I could tell he was at a crossroads to tell me something. "They aren't scared in the sense…well no, it's-- Never mind," he finally decided on. He did a blink-rapid glance at the photos on his dresser. "Just look at it like an old sailors' superstition. There's a lot in the Red Dragons who think women are bad luck."
I laughed. "Even me?"
"It's more Faye's type…no offense."
"None taken," I assured him. "Leather beats lace, right? Even though, ironically enough, paper beats rock…"
Conversation was choppy after that. Into another silence, I remembered Shin once mentioning that Spike had told some interesting stories about Faye. Stories that probably inspired the 'bad luck' thing. Hoping for both a conversation piece and entertainment, I asked Shin to tell me one of the anecdotes.
He was half way into a weird one about Faye joining a cult when I dozed off, and the next thing I knew the woman herself was shaking me awake.
"C'mon, we're late," Faye groaned. She shook harder. "Have you ever tried to wrestle breakfast away from a room full of boys? I'm giving you five seconds and then you're on your own."
Groggy beyond belief, I barely registered this. I opened my eyes to find the light patchy above me. Confused, I quickly sat up straight and realized that I was still in Shin's room. I'd fallen asleep in the chair, and apparently I'd also burrowed into the pile of dirty laundry some time in the night. Faye took one look at me and burst out laughing, simultaneously pulling a necktie from my hair.
"So," she suddenly said in a low tone of mischief. "Spent the night in here, did you?"
"Ya," I deadpanned. "Did the dirty on his laundry, fucking most romantic night of my life."
"You're cranky in the morning."
"Ngghh…" I stood up, my back aching from sleeping in a high-backed chair for too long. I stretched my muscles, and winced periodically. Faye watched with her head tilted to the side.
"You get hit?" she asked.
"Huh?"
She motioned to my shirt, and for the first time I noticed there was a large, bloody stain on the side. "I don't think so," I replied, startled. I felt under the fabric, just to be sure. Nothing. "Must be yours." Probably from when I'd dragged her to the hotel, leaned against my hip most of the way.
"Mmm, right," she nodded, looking a little more somber now. She reached into the pile of clothes I'd used as a blanket and handed me a black trench coat. "Put this on, we're leaving after we eat."
I took it and held it open in front of my face. It would go down to Shin's knees but probably to my ankles. "I should ask first…"
"Shin left on assignment at least an hour ago," She assured me. Sensing my question, she added, "I know cause he came in to tell Spike he was leaving and that pretty much woke me up. Now put it on, he won't care and you can't walk around with blood all over you. Things like that make people call the police."
"Fine, fine," I conceded as I remembered my own jacket was in the car. As I slipped my arms into the oversized sleeves, I remember Faye's own bloodied clothes from the night before. Her jacket wasn't on, but slung over her shoulder with her left hand, and I noticed that she'd replaced her ruined shirt with a button-up yellow one. Typical of Faye, the collar was undone, and the ends were tied above the bottom of her ribcage. She still wore her own black pants, and if the blood had soaked through them I couldn't see a stain.
Arriving at the door, I was surprised to see Spike in the hall waiting for us. He looked less than happy, a comical scowl on his face and his hands so deep in his pockets it evened out the wrinkles in his suit only to cause new creases. "What the hell took so long? If the egg rolls are gone by the time we get there, Faye—"
"Takeout for breakfast?" asked Faye. My thoughts exactly. "Sounds good." Well, maybe not exactly….
"Now Faye—"
"Oh keep yer panties on, so what if we're a little late." With that, she strode down the hall, Spike and I following. When we got there she was leaning with a hand against the wall and the other on her hip, sending Spike a bright and smug smile as the door chimed open.
We climbed into the car and I was happy not to be using the stairs for once in this building. The ceiling was mirrored, but when I looked up to check my hair I found Spike looking down at me with his eyebrows in a twist.
"What?" I frowned as the door opened to the lobby. I was sure he knew I was the reason we were late for breakfast and was going to scold me or something. He didn't, though.
"Kid," he stepped out of the elevator. "You've got a sock on your ass."
~*~*~
The first thing I noticed was that the noise immediately stopped when we entered the hotel conference center, also known as the acting cafeteria. The room turned silent, with patches of mumbles and whispers—then, as the men realized their suspicious behavior, they came back louder than before all in a matter of microseconds.
I narrowed my eyes and wondered if it was an omen of some kind. When I checked to see what Spike and Faye thought of it, they weren't there. They were ahead of me, heading for the kitchen doors and having an argument of some kind. They'd moved on from egg rolls to chow mien, and seemed to be in a power-walking race. Apparently they hadn't noticed the change of atmosphere…either that, or they had, and didn't care, or perhaps were even expecting it.
Grumbling gibberish for lack of anything better, I tromped after them. The hotel kitchen was state of the art via two decades ago, and staffed with some of the younger, subordinate Dragons who were basically in charge of sticking the Happy Panda cartons into the microwaves.
There was a lot of food, but actually less than I expected considering how many Red Dragon members there were combined with the average male appetite. There'd only been two dozen or so in the conference room, so I assumed the rest were off some where doing Syndicaty things like Shin. I asked about it, and a guy standing at the sink began complaining about the big crowd as he stuffed another plate into the washer.
In the center of the room, running from one wall to the other with just enough walking room in between, was a gigantic stainless steel table that I could only assume real chefs would prepare things on. Then, however, it was littered with the little cardboard cartons and Styrofoam boxes of delivery food. I fished an unopened pack of chopsticks from the pile, split them, and hovered over the selection in hopes of finding an untouched carton.
Orange chicken and assorted vegetables was what I ended up with. Further down the table, Faye had pushed the boxes out of her way and sat on the surface with her legs swinging. She was trying to eat her chow mien and fend off Spike at the same time, sending him death glares as he jabbed at her noodles with his sticks, an egg roll between his fingers. I busied myself with my own breakfast until I heard a sharp cry. Spike, with a wide smirk, had stolen the noodles right off of Faye's chopsticks and she began to scream at him for a piece of egg-roll.
I recall thinking: Enough for both but they don't share, what is this, preschool with guns?
After such a trying day before and little, uncomfortable sleep, Spike and Faye were starting to annoy me and I should mention it takes a lot to push my buttons. I indulged myself with the fantasy that if I heard "egg-roll" one more time, I'd take my chopsticks and go Jackie Chan on their asses. The scenario went on in my head until I'd eaten enough to wake myself and improve my mood.
"I don't see what they're all so nervous for," a voice behind me muttered.
I turned around in my seat, and just about shot rice out of my nose trying not to laugh. It was Bellboy Bill—only this time he was in a Catholic Schoolboy's uniform, complete with a checkered sweater vest. "The hell--?" I managed.
"Shove it, Jap, it's for undercover."
"I'm Chinese, and you look like an idiot," I shot back. Bad comeback, I know, but going by his outfit I still had the upper hand, even in my bloody shirt and oversized coat. "What's the Syndicate want at a school?"
"City bigshots' kids go ta St. Joseph," he muttered, stepping past me. He began to rifle through the Happy Panda cartons in search of whatever was left him. He found something—not sure what—and with a mouthful of it continued, "and you should be more respectful as I could be saving your ass."
"How so, Mole?"
He glowered at me. "Circle's after the Hearst girls, ri? Stands to reason that knowing who on the inside made the mark on you, this can end a lot faster."
I glowered right back. "Stands to reason," I said, "that if the Circle's after us, then it's the leader who put out the mark."
"Give the lady a prize," he rolled his eyes and stuffed more food in his mouth. "Now, for our lightning round, care to tell our studio audience just who that leader is?"
I nearly dropped my chopsticks at this. "You don't ~know~ who's leading the Circle?"
"If we did, this'd be over by now." He jabbed and poked with the chopsticks and I could hear their slimy scrape against the bottom of the carton. "Rumor is the new guy's got a kid, we've been runnin' reconnaissance for months on the Martian schools for high roller families, lookin for a name."
"And I bet you fit right in, you yuppie," I smirked.
"Go ta hell, Jap."
I felt like getting angry at him, but when I remembered what Shin said the guys thought of Faye, I decided on a different tactic. "You know, Gatsby's Japanese," I said, trying to sound a bit off-hand, but fake enough. "Maybe she wouldn't like your slang."
Bill snorted, and getting a look at him then I wondered if he was even younger than I'd first assumed. "So? I'm Polish, and she can scream Pollack till Armageddon and I still wouldn't jump as if she were some black cat."
That was it. The conversation wasn't going how I'd planned, but I saw my opportunity and I jumped right for it without a second thought. "Why are some of the guys afraid of Faye?" I asked.
I was looking for what Shin wouldn't tell me, and not because I felt it was important to know. It wasn't because I wanted every little detail of The Lives of the Rich and Mafia. I wanted to know, because when Shin hadn't told me, he'd gotten that look. The look I get too often to stand sometimes. I don't know how to describe it—think of it like when your kid asks you about sex for the first time, and no matter how old he is your first instinct is to say 'you're not ready to know'.
I'm all grown up, but nobody else sees it.
Bill probably didn't see it either, that I was older than him, I mean. Even though it was only by four or five years, it was at the time of life when those kinds of numbers matter. But my age didn't matter to him. The good thing (and annoying thing) about Bill, was that he didn't give a damn how old you were, he still thought he was better. And because of this, whether I'd been a two year old or well into my forties, he'd give me the same answer. And although a brat, he was a good enough guy to tell the truth.
Even if I couldn't really follow it.
"The problem with those guys," Bill started, "and we're all lucky it's just a few, cause if the whole teams' brains were so warped this whole Syndicate would be flushed. But those few see Spike and they see Woman and they don't even look close 'case they've got one track in their heads and it reads something like Woman equals—-Julia…"
His voice dropped suddenly when he said the name. His head whipped from side to side in what might have been panic, or at least extreme nervousness. From what I saw, it seemed to me he'd gotten caught up in the moment and was about to say something he wasn't supposed to. And that, of course, made me watch him even closer.
His zig-zagging eyes found Spike, and there was obvious relief at finding his green haired boss occupied with Faye in Battle of the Won Tons.
But me, I was excited now. "Who's---" and he cut me off right there, just by this look he gave me that should not be on the face of a boy his age.
"Don't you mind about her," he ordered. It would have felt more threatening if his restless eyes had made contact with mine. Not even looking at his meal, he continued to stab at the carton until the sticks poked a hole in the greasy cardboard. He stared down at it for a moment, then continued to jab as if he hadn't noticed, while he continued to talk. "The only thing you should mind is your own business."
I frowned. I got the point, he could've written it in the sky to be more discrete. I'm not an idiot and I understand that some things aren't meant for me to know, that there are private lives, that there are skeletons in closets. That there are things that should stay buried.
Buried…
And then I remembered my trip to the graveyard. The tombstone Faye pointed out to me rose in front of my mind's eye long enough to read the name. I looked up at Bill, the poor nervous kid, and some bitchy part of me thought 'I'll make him squirm…just for a second.'
With a quick glance to make sure Spike wasn't paying attention, I whispered, "Are you talking about Julia Buchanan?"
I didn't get the squirm I'd sadistically and stupidly aimed for. I was too surprised to call for Faye when he grabbed my arm fast as lightning and yanked me out the doors. He dragged me through the cafeteria and out into the empty hall, where he finally let go and I oriented myself again.
"What the hell are you on!?" I snapped, cradling my wrist for dramatic effect. I hadn't expected that pull. I'd forgotten: kid or not, he's still Syndicate. Dragons come in all sizes, but never without teeth.
"How do you know about Julia?" Bill demanded. I looked up and found him in a state of extreme agitated emotion.
"Faye was lookin for Spike's grave," I mumbled out; it'd do no good to lie, and I couldn't think of a better excuse anyway. "She pointed out a couple plots…Julia's…some guy named Mao's… that's all I know, just the name." I glared into his face. "What are you so scared of?"
His composure—most of it at least—returned with impressive speed. He shook his head. "Not scared. Just wondering who the fuck you were, for a second there, that's all."
"What's that mean?"
"It means most people outside the Syndicate don't know about her—hardly anyone knows her last name, I only got it on accident when I was filing papers," Bill was looking embarrassed now. Egotists don't like their bravado broken. "You go dropping names like hers to just anyone, and they're gonna think that Shirley Temple personality is just an act. They're gonna think you're up to something, since how else could you know?"
So who had he thought I was—queen of the ninjas out to Kill Bill his sorry butt?
"I don't know anything," I reminded him, deciding not to even ask who Shirley Temple was. "That's why I tried to get it out of you, I was just curious."
He glowered, and the old attitude was back. "Like I told you, mind your own business," he growled, pretending to adjust his clip-on tie. "This is a bad place to ask questions—if you get too many answers you become a liability."
"So, curiosity gets the cat assassinated?"
"Bingo."
~*~*~
Starting the day off like that, I'd have rather had eaten something that was part of 'this complete breakfast'. But the Bill thing turned out to be okay. By throwing me off my rocker first thing in the morning, he reminded me that even though it was a new day, the factors of the day before were still at large and lying in wait. I didn't have the leeway to bitch and moan when I'd have to be on my toes because the plan for the day was now: "fix it".
Faye and I were going to find Marla, and then find some way to fix this whole thing, and I couldn't forget that objective because it was the one thing I was going to be useful for. I knew Marla best, and for once, people were going to actually be counting on me to call her bluffs, warn them of her personality, and I couldn't be waiting my time joking with schoolboys, fake or otherwise.
At least, that was what the pep-talk I gave myself into the bathroom mirror pretty much sounded like. I'd run off after the Bill escapade, not hungry but not wanting to just wait around. I found the public bathroom in the lobby and rushed in, telling myself that I was not hiding, but doing the productive thing and trying to get that blood stain off my shirt.
I ended up locking myself in a stall and taking deep breaths.
I don't think I was in there long before someone came in the room and knocked on my stall door. I opened it right away, and moved past the visitor straight to the sink to wash my hands, pretending I'd actually come in on business instead of a Brigit Jones breakdown.
The guy asked me how I was doing and I didn't appreciate it at all. The visitor was another Syndicate Joe that I hadn't even met, and I really wasn't in the mood to make any more new friends.
But it was interesting, at least. He asked me about Bill…he'd seen the kid drag me through the conference room and wanted to know if I was having trouble.
"No trouble," I said. "He just can't take a joke, that's all. I made fun of his clothes."
"Well I apologize for him, Miss Chen," said the guy. "Don't let the kids bother you, they don't know anything." And with that, he nodded politely and left.
It took me a couple seconds to realize that the man hadn't just come across me---this was the ladies room and he'd come looking for me, specifically. Me, the woman who just last night Dragons were making catcalls at. I'd gone from 'Baby doll' to 'Miss Chen' in less than eight hours, clearly I'd missed something.
I shook my head and corked my curiosity…for the moment. The inborn security a girl has known in the women's restroom since elementary school was now gone for me. I suddenly realized how scared I'd been to start the day, but as soon as I knew there was nowhere in this building to completely hide, I was more than ready to not only start the day, but get it the hell over with.
When I resurfaced in the lobby, Faye was at the receptionist's desk on the phone. I didn't have to ask to know she was talking to Marla. We were going to have to sit down to her and somehow figure out a way to stop what she'd started, and wasn't sure what I should expect from her.
"Somebody's looking for you," someone said. I looked up, it was Spike. His coat was on, and that could only mean he was coming with us to meet Marla— but wasn't drawing him out into the open what the Gold Serpent Circle wanted? Of course he knew that, but despite the prospect that he might be walking into a trap, he looked pretty refreshed…for Spike, anyway. His hands were in his pockets, shoulders just a little too high, and his cigarette barely clinging to his lips. "Guy asking if a Vivika Chen had a room here."
I shrugged. "What'd you say?"
"What any hotel would say," he smirked and turned mock-amiable. " 'I'm sorry, Sir, but we are not at liberty to disclose that information'."
"Nice jargon."
"He said the same thing." I raised an eyebrow and he caught it. "Care to say who it was?"
Jargon—I'd learned that from Jerry. I replayed our warped conversation in my mind as I answered. "His name's Jerry McKelley, he's Marla's lawyer…I think the place he works for is Horris and Hallaway…might be Callaway."
"Hearst was looking for you two?"
"No, we checked in with her. It was just him looking, and I told him I was staying in Tharsis because I'd already paid for a hotel room…I never thought he'd start calling hotels. He must've called a lot of them, too, cause I know he doesn't have any way to trace a call."
"Trimalchio lawyer?" he asked. "Does that mean no Syndicate connections?"
"None that I know of," I shrugged.
It later occurred to me that if Marla had made any contracts with the Circle's Standard Oil company, Jerry would know about it, but by then we were already on our way to a downtown pub to meet my boss. When we got to the car, one of the Dragon cronies opened the door for me (Bill was off spying by now) and I once again got a polite nod.
Spike stayed outside the car, talking to our driver, and I used that opportunity to talk to Faye. "Did you see that guy?" I asked.
"Not my type," she muttered. Her snideness lacked its usual ring, as if she was speaking automatically. I followed the train of her eyes and found Spike.
I lowered my voice a little. "Are you worried?"
"About that guy?"
"About Spike," I said, and her eyebrows moved. "He shouldn't be coming with us, huh? What if it's a trap?"
Faye crossed her arms and slouched down in her seat. "Marla's not subtle enough for traps," she said. Now, her eyes were on anything but Spike Spiegel. "He can take care of himself, anyway—- worry is just wasted on him."
She obviously didn't want to talk about why Spike was coming with us, so I let her have that one without extra prodding and returned to my original point.
"Faye, did you notice how that guy was nice to me?"
"And that's bad because…?"
"Not bad, just weird," I tried to explain. I looked out the window where the same crony was at Bill's usual post by the door. He seemed to feel my eyes on him; he looked in my direction for a split second, and quickly found the traffic light more interesting. "Last night they were shouting down the halls and today they're all gentlemen...it's creeping me out. It reminds me of how my family acted when Aunt Becky got out of rehab."
Faye's eyebrows arched. She stared at me for a moment, and then abruptly began to laugh. "I know what it is," she chuckled. "You were sleeping in Shin's room, they think you're his girlfriend!" she started laughing again, louder and kind of like a guy.
I felt my face scrunch up. "But I'm not!"
"What difference does that make?" Faye countered, still shaking and grinning. "Shin's a top dog around here, they wouldn't take the chance of pissin off his lady."
I opened my mouth to shout something, but Spike chose that moment to open the door and climb in. I slammed back in my seat and pouted like a preschooler, and as I was doing so things began to click in my head.
Things like how Faye had spent the night in Spike's room, and the Dragons had skipped the catcalls and gone straight into a kind of fear. What the hell had a woman done to this place to make its employees so edgy? The Red Dragon Syndicate sure had a strange philosophy when it comes to women, and the confusion it caused me made me all the happier to leave, even if our destination was bound to be unpleasant.
TBC
Well I certainly didn't see this chapter coming. It wasn't in my orrigional outline, it kind of wrote itself. The main focus this time around was Julia's impact on the Syndicate…in which I pretty much turned them all into a bunch of superstitious wierdos…hmm… not quite what I was aiming for.
Oh well, at the very least I hope I made it clear that although Vivika is ignorant, she's not exactly innocent. She's got her bitchier side just like everyone else. I realized a couple chapters ago where part of her character comes from, and that's the news reporter character named Rachel (I think) from the CB manga, a girl who wanted to learn about the Cowboys and ended up way over her head.
Anyway, I'm really swamped at school so I feel bad that I wasn't able to make this chapter as good as I'd have liked. I actually find that the information presented this time around decent enough, but I wish I could have focused more on Spike and Faye.
But therein lies the trick, huh? I'm writing a story about Spike and Faye from the POV of a character who just cant physically be with them 24/7, and so every so often people will have to just deal with a section of the story which is just Vivika if I'm going to keep my realism, but don't worry I have no plans at all to let the OC take over this fanfic, no sir. (I mean, notice that even though this chap didn't have much Spike and Faye, it was pretty much all about the Syncicate so hey, still in the Bebop motif here!)
So pretty much what I'm asking for with my long tangent, is forgiveness this time around. I know most of you wanted to see more Spike and Faye stuff, but it just wasn't possible to do this time around, but that will be plenty compensated for later on, believe me.
I thought about getting a beta to look over this one, but I figure that since my updates aren't exactly the speediest things in the world, even if it's not the best job you all still deserve to see the chapter as soon as it's done.
ANYWAY, I've got big plans for the next chapter because it's one of the turning points of the story, and if all goes well, Jet should show up—huzzah!
And don't forget, it's tradition ^.~
6 Leather and Lace
I don't know how long I waited on the bathroom floor, just sitting there listening to Faye's breathing even out until she finally started to snore and it was safe. I crawled as carefully as I could to the dividing French doors. Spike had closed them when he left, and so I thanked God that when I opened them they swung back without a creak.
Unfortunately, my spot on the couch was gone. With his bed occupied, Spike had taken to the sofa. It was too small for him, so his head lay on one arm rest while his feet stretched far over the other. I stopped myself from grumbling and headed for the door.
The hall outside was thankfully empty, save for the two guards at Spike's door. I took at deep breath and tried to decide what I should do. I felt so exhausted that I knew I couldn't just hang out until everyone else was up and about again; I had to find a place to sleep.
Of course, it did occur to me that the Dragon's base was a hotel, so there assumably wasn't any shortage of beds. The problem was more along the lines of knowing what rooms were empty. I didn't think just moving down the line, knocking on doors would be a good idea. Even if I did find an empty room, imagine if the occupant had just stepped out and when he came back found me in his bed? Bad scenario.
I thought about going downstairs to the lobby and crashing on one of the couches, but there was no privacy there. I also considered going down and finding Bill, if he was still on guard duty, and getting him to find me a bed, but I ended up turning right around and asking one of Spike's guards (the one on the right) where I could find Shin.
"Suite," he grunted. "One floor down."
"Thanks," I said, although I think I sounded a little grumpy like I didn't mean it. I headed back for the fire exit stairs, only realizing as I made it to the lower landing that I could have used the elevator that time.
I'm almost positive that I woke Shin up, but the poor guy was pretty nice about it. "I need a place to sleep," I opened with, rather unceremoniously. I then realized that what I said could be a double entandre, and I rushed to make it clear, "Extra! Bed, that is. An extra bed. One—one of the spare rooms…that kind of extra…"
"Hmm?" he shook his head to wake up. His black hair swung into his eyes; whatever held it still during the day had apparently been washed out. "Oh yeah, sorry, I should have thought of that before…" he disappeared back into the room, rubbing his hair and making the mess of it bad enough to look kind of cool. The door had been left open and I followed him in.
Shin's room was exactly like Spike's in design, but it was a whole lot messier which I admit surprised me since Shin seemed so…I'm not quite sure if the word is 'upstanding' or 'uptight'. It was mostly laundry, cast aside in any direction. He definitely had more clothes than Spike, but they all looked pretty similar. Sort of casual dress—a lot of black.
But I could tell, by the whole lived in feel of this place, that this was what Shin considered Home. The room above had seemed so empty, but where I was I found myself attracted to Shin's dresser. It was cluttered and it felt familiar, like the kind of things you're used to seeing on a guy's shelf: old receipts, spare change, cigarette packs, and—well—bullets.
And there were pictures….
Lots of them, in various corners, it was almost as if he had a woman's sentimentality—of course I noticed that he was in most of the photos, so perhaps a woman had taken them. I occupied myself by looking at the various frames while Shim himself rifled through something on the other side of his own set of French doors.
I pointed out the first thing I'd noticed when he came back in.
"You're a twin," I stated what he most certainly knew already. I didn't catch his reaction because I was still bent far over to look at the tiny photo. Two heads of black hair, same face, but… "You're the one on the right, aren't you?"
I looked up to see his face set in awkward surprise. "Yes," he finally said. "How did you tell?"
"Your brother looks…kinda angry in this picture," I explained. The embarrassment node in my brain was finally starting to catch up with the rest of me and I realized I was pretty out of place. "I haven't seen ~you~ angry so…no basis of comparison…plus, the hair and all…different style."
"Yeah, well, Lin didn't know how to calm down sometimes," Shin sighed and sat down on the bed. He had a few stapled papers in his hand, and somehow he looked more like he'd just stepped out of the shower than out of bed, even though he was all dry.
"Anyway," he began in a different, conversational direction changing kind of tone. "The thing is this place really isn't a hotel—I mean, it ~was~ a hotel, and we still pretend it is to the public…long story short, we only supply power to the rooms that we use.
"There are plenty of spare rooms I could put you in, but they wouldn't have electricity…or water, or heat, and I'm sure that by now they'd smell pretty musty," he explained, cracking one of those smiles that look as if he's afraid to mellow out. "What I can do, is set you up in the room of one of the guys that's on duty. That way you'll have it to yourself for about six hours."
"That's fine," I assured him. "I just need some sleep, I wouldn't mess up anyone stuff or anything."
Shin nodded understandingly. "But one last thing, the shifts switch in a half hour, so if you could wait until then it shouldn't be a problem."
"Half hour," I repeated like a diligent parrot. "No problem." I tried to smile like that vacant smile you see some teens do to assure him I wouldn't be any trouble, but I didn't have the energy to keep it up. I sighed, weary and embarrassed.
"But can I hang out here until then?" I pleaded. "So far the only guys I'm not freaked out about meeting in the hall are you, Spike, and Bill, and I really don't want to stand outside playing Bellboy Buddy…plus, I don't think he'd appreciate it."
"Sure," Shin nodded, accommodating but not jumping through hoops over the idea.
What followed this was a long, very awkward silence and I seem to recall starring at my feet a lot. Scuffed shoes. I began to look elsewhere, back to the pictures. I had to squint to make out the little details. Shin kept shifting in his seat until finally clearing his throat. "Would you—er--like a drink, or—"
"Is that…" I interrupted him, getting to my feet again and scuffling over to the picture which had caught my eye. "This is it, isn't it?" I lifted the plastic frame off the dresser and pointed.
"Is what it?" he asked, coming up behind me to see what I saw. Shin was in the picture, Spike on one side of him and a woman on the other. The woman was the center of the image--- a gold haired beauty that reminded me of Venus standing on her seashell, pearl of the gods. She stood in the middle with men flanking either side—Shin on her left, Lin on the right.
But it wasn't her I was looking at.
I was looking at the man standing next to Shin's brother. His face was young but his hair was white. On one shoulder perched a bird with elaborate feathers, and peaking out from behind the other shoulder was the hilt of a sword. Marla's sword.
"That's that katana Marla bought!" I exclaimed, excited for some reason. "The one that belonged to…oh don't tell me, I know this… he's got a funny name like Spike…"
"Vicious."
"Yeah, that's it!" I lifted the photo up to look close at the man Spike had killed and replaced. There didn't seem to be anything special about him…other than that bird, and that wasn't so much special as weird. I sighed and returned the frame to its place. I couldn't help but wonder what I thought putting faces to names would accomplish.
"Sorry," I said. "I should just be minding my own business, huh? I just got a little excited about recognizing something; I've been confused all day."
My eyes were still on the picture. I stared at Spike and Vicious's tiny faces and wondered what that duel had been like. Was it Spike's dried blood on the sword like Marla thought? Had they both used swords, or had Spike used a gun and was that even fair? I remembered watching the news a year prior and seeing the Syndicate building half destroyed—surely swordfights didn't involve explosions. There was so much under the surface of this place.
"It's not your fault that you're here," Shin offered. I half expected him to punch me on the shoulder and say something like 'buck up, sport!'. That in itself was a strange image since girls don't get a lot of 'sport', and nobody says 'buck up' these days.
"But I am here," I muttered. I continued to stare at the picture, glaring at it sourly. I searched my mind for something to blame on Spike, but came up with nothing. I got the sensation that meant the back of my head was being stared at; I'd made Shin uncomfortable in his own room.
"I've got my own bed, you know," I suddenly said. "I really don't like this…asking for a bed when I've got one—Jerry was right, I should go home." I turned around to see if this had any effect on him, wondering if I'd be able to see the relief in his eyes at the thought of getting me out of everyone's way.
He shrugged. His eyes were closed. "Better not, there might be a mark on your head."
"Oh…right."
There was another one of those long pauses, but then, with much shifting of limbs, "Also…It might be a better idea to wait for Ms. Gatsby."
"Why's that?" I asked, even though I knew it was a good idea. Faye wasn't too nice about it, but she always looked out for me, and I needed all the extra eyes I could get.
"Well," Shin explained. "Leaving without her looks like you're leaving her to us."
"Getting out of her way, more like. Faye doesn't get left to things."
"It would also make it appear to the others that she's here to stay." I didn't see his point, and Shin probably could tell by my expression. He went on without waiting for me to add comments. "The thing is," he said, starting to get that weird nervousness in his skin, "some of the boys are afraid of her."
I laughed out loud. "Of Faye?" it felt strange and good to smile. "I mean, she acts a little scary but she's not dangerous if you don't threaten her."
Shin shook his head again, quickly, as if trying to ward off something invisible in the air. "It's not like that it's…" he trailed off, and I could tell he was at a crossroads to tell me something. "They aren't scared in the sense…well no, it's-- Never mind," he finally decided on. He did a blink-rapid glance at the photos on his dresser. "Just look at it like an old sailors' superstition. There's a lot in the Red Dragons who think women are bad luck."
I laughed. "Even me?"
"It's more Faye's type…no offense."
"None taken," I assured him. "Leather beats lace, right? Even though, ironically enough, paper beats rock…"
Conversation was choppy after that. Into another silence, I remembered Shin once mentioning that Spike had told some interesting stories about Faye. Stories that probably inspired the 'bad luck' thing. Hoping for both a conversation piece and entertainment, I asked Shin to tell me one of the anecdotes.
He was half way into a weird one about Faye joining a cult when I dozed off, and the next thing I knew the woman herself was shaking me awake.
"C'mon, we're late," Faye groaned. She shook harder. "Have you ever tried to wrestle breakfast away from a room full of boys? I'm giving you five seconds and then you're on your own."
Groggy beyond belief, I barely registered this. I opened my eyes to find the light patchy above me. Confused, I quickly sat up straight and realized that I was still in Shin's room. I'd fallen asleep in the chair, and apparently I'd also burrowed into the pile of dirty laundry some time in the night. Faye took one look at me and burst out laughing, simultaneously pulling a necktie from my hair.
"So," she suddenly said in a low tone of mischief. "Spent the night in here, did you?"
"Ya," I deadpanned. "Did the dirty on his laundry, fucking most romantic night of my life."
"You're cranky in the morning."
"Ngghh…" I stood up, my back aching from sleeping in a high-backed chair for too long. I stretched my muscles, and winced periodically. Faye watched with her head tilted to the side.
"You get hit?" she asked.
"Huh?"
She motioned to my shirt, and for the first time I noticed there was a large, bloody stain on the side. "I don't think so," I replied, startled. I felt under the fabric, just to be sure. Nothing. "Must be yours." Probably from when I'd dragged her to the hotel, leaned against my hip most of the way.
"Mmm, right," she nodded, looking a little more somber now. She reached into the pile of clothes I'd used as a blanket and handed me a black trench coat. "Put this on, we're leaving after we eat."
I took it and held it open in front of my face. It would go down to Shin's knees but probably to my ankles. "I should ask first…"
"Shin left on assignment at least an hour ago," She assured me. Sensing my question, she added, "I know cause he came in to tell Spike he was leaving and that pretty much woke me up. Now put it on, he won't care and you can't walk around with blood all over you. Things like that make people call the police."
"Fine, fine," I conceded as I remembered my own jacket was in the car. As I slipped my arms into the oversized sleeves, I remember Faye's own bloodied clothes from the night before. Her jacket wasn't on, but slung over her shoulder with her left hand, and I noticed that she'd replaced her ruined shirt with a button-up yellow one. Typical of Faye, the collar was undone, and the ends were tied above the bottom of her ribcage. She still wore her own black pants, and if the blood had soaked through them I couldn't see a stain.
Arriving at the door, I was surprised to see Spike in the hall waiting for us. He looked less than happy, a comical scowl on his face and his hands so deep in his pockets it evened out the wrinkles in his suit only to cause new creases. "What the hell took so long? If the egg rolls are gone by the time we get there, Faye—"
"Takeout for breakfast?" asked Faye. My thoughts exactly. "Sounds good." Well, maybe not exactly….
"Now Faye—"
"Oh keep yer panties on, so what if we're a little late." With that, she strode down the hall, Spike and I following. When we got there she was leaning with a hand against the wall and the other on her hip, sending Spike a bright and smug smile as the door chimed open.
We climbed into the car and I was happy not to be using the stairs for once in this building. The ceiling was mirrored, but when I looked up to check my hair I found Spike looking down at me with his eyebrows in a twist.
"What?" I frowned as the door opened to the lobby. I was sure he knew I was the reason we were late for breakfast and was going to scold me or something. He didn't, though.
"Kid," he stepped out of the elevator. "You've got a sock on your ass."
~*~*~
The first thing I noticed was that the noise immediately stopped when we entered the hotel conference center, also known as the acting cafeteria. The room turned silent, with patches of mumbles and whispers—then, as the men realized their suspicious behavior, they came back louder than before all in a matter of microseconds.
I narrowed my eyes and wondered if it was an omen of some kind. When I checked to see what Spike and Faye thought of it, they weren't there. They were ahead of me, heading for the kitchen doors and having an argument of some kind. They'd moved on from egg rolls to chow mien, and seemed to be in a power-walking race. Apparently they hadn't noticed the change of atmosphere…either that, or they had, and didn't care, or perhaps were even expecting it.
Grumbling gibberish for lack of anything better, I tromped after them. The hotel kitchen was state of the art via two decades ago, and staffed with some of the younger, subordinate Dragons who were basically in charge of sticking the Happy Panda cartons into the microwaves.
There was a lot of food, but actually less than I expected considering how many Red Dragon members there were combined with the average male appetite. There'd only been two dozen or so in the conference room, so I assumed the rest were off some where doing Syndicaty things like Shin. I asked about it, and a guy standing at the sink began complaining about the big crowd as he stuffed another plate into the washer.
In the center of the room, running from one wall to the other with just enough walking room in between, was a gigantic stainless steel table that I could only assume real chefs would prepare things on. Then, however, it was littered with the little cardboard cartons and Styrofoam boxes of delivery food. I fished an unopened pack of chopsticks from the pile, split them, and hovered over the selection in hopes of finding an untouched carton.
Orange chicken and assorted vegetables was what I ended up with. Further down the table, Faye had pushed the boxes out of her way and sat on the surface with her legs swinging. She was trying to eat her chow mien and fend off Spike at the same time, sending him death glares as he jabbed at her noodles with his sticks, an egg roll between his fingers. I busied myself with my own breakfast until I heard a sharp cry. Spike, with a wide smirk, had stolen the noodles right off of Faye's chopsticks and she began to scream at him for a piece of egg-roll.
I recall thinking: Enough for both but they don't share, what is this, preschool with guns?
After such a trying day before and little, uncomfortable sleep, Spike and Faye were starting to annoy me and I should mention it takes a lot to push my buttons. I indulged myself with the fantasy that if I heard "egg-roll" one more time, I'd take my chopsticks and go Jackie Chan on their asses. The scenario went on in my head until I'd eaten enough to wake myself and improve my mood.
"I don't see what they're all so nervous for," a voice behind me muttered.
I turned around in my seat, and just about shot rice out of my nose trying not to laugh. It was Bellboy Bill—only this time he was in a Catholic Schoolboy's uniform, complete with a checkered sweater vest. "The hell--?" I managed.
"Shove it, Jap, it's for undercover."
"I'm Chinese, and you look like an idiot," I shot back. Bad comeback, I know, but going by his outfit I still had the upper hand, even in my bloody shirt and oversized coat. "What's the Syndicate want at a school?"
"City bigshots' kids go ta St. Joseph," he muttered, stepping past me. He began to rifle through the Happy Panda cartons in search of whatever was left him. He found something—not sure what—and with a mouthful of it continued, "and you should be more respectful as I could be saving your ass."
"How so, Mole?"
He glowered at me. "Circle's after the Hearst girls, ri? Stands to reason that knowing who on the inside made the mark on you, this can end a lot faster."
I glowered right back. "Stands to reason," I said, "that if the Circle's after us, then it's the leader who put out the mark."
"Give the lady a prize," he rolled his eyes and stuffed more food in his mouth. "Now, for our lightning round, care to tell our studio audience just who that leader is?"
I nearly dropped my chopsticks at this. "You don't ~know~ who's leading the Circle?"
"If we did, this'd be over by now." He jabbed and poked with the chopsticks and I could hear their slimy scrape against the bottom of the carton. "Rumor is the new guy's got a kid, we've been runnin' reconnaissance for months on the Martian schools for high roller families, lookin for a name."
"And I bet you fit right in, you yuppie," I smirked.
"Go ta hell, Jap."
I felt like getting angry at him, but when I remembered what Shin said the guys thought of Faye, I decided on a different tactic. "You know, Gatsby's Japanese," I said, trying to sound a bit off-hand, but fake enough. "Maybe she wouldn't like your slang."
Bill snorted, and getting a look at him then I wondered if he was even younger than I'd first assumed. "So? I'm Polish, and she can scream Pollack till Armageddon and I still wouldn't jump as if she were some black cat."
That was it. The conversation wasn't going how I'd planned, but I saw my opportunity and I jumped right for it without a second thought. "Why are some of the guys afraid of Faye?" I asked.
I was looking for what Shin wouldn't tell me, and not because I felt it was important to know. It wasn't because I wanted every little detail of The Lives of the Rich and Mafia. I wanted to know, because when Shin hadn't told me, he'd gotten that look. The look I get too often to stand sometimes. I don't know how to describe it—think of it like when your kid asks you about sex for the first time, and no matter how old he is your first instinct is to say 'you're not ready to know'.
I'm all grown up, but nobody else sees it.
Bill probably didn't see it either, that I was older than him, I mean. Even though it was only by four or five years, it was at the time of life when those kinds of numbers matter. But my age didn't matter to him. The good thing (and annoying thing) about Bill, was that he didn't give a damn how old you were, he still thought he was better. And because of this, whether I'd been a two year old or well into my forties, he'd give me the same answer. And although a brat, he was a good enough guy to tell the truth.
Even if I couldn't really follow it.
"The problem with those guys," Bill started, "and we're all lucky it's just a few, cause if the whole teams' brains were so warped this whole Syndicate would be flushed. But those few see Spike and they see Woman and they don't even look close 'case they've got one track in their heads and it reads something like Woman equals—-Julia…"
His voice dropped suddenly when he said the name. His head whipped from side to side in what might have been panic, or at least extreme nervousness. From what I saw, it seemed to me he'd gotten caught up in the moment and was about to say something he wasn't supposed to. And that, of course, made me watch him even closer.
His zig-zagging eyes found Spike, and there was obvious relief at finding his green haired boss occupied with Faye in Battle of the Won Tons.
But me, I was excited now. "Who's---" and he cut me off right there, just by this look he gave me that should not be on the face of a boy his age.
"Don't you mind about her," he ordered. It would have felt more threatening if his restless eyes had made contact with mine. Not even looking at his meal, he continued to stab at the carton until the sticks poked a hole in the greasy cardboard. He stared down at it for a moment, then continued to jab as if he hadn't noticed, while he continued to talk. "The only thing you should mind is your own business."
I frowned. I got the point, he could've written it in the sky to be more discrete. I'm not an idiot and I understand that some things aren't meant for me to know, that there are private lives, that there are skeletons in closets. That there are things that should stay buried.
Buried…
And then I remembered my trip to the graveyard. The tombstone Faye pointed out to me rose in front of my mind's eye long enough to read the name. I looked up at Bill, the poor nervous kid, and some bitchy part of me thought 'I'll make him squirm…just for a second.'
With a quick glance to make sure Spike wasn't paying attention, I whispered, "Are you talking about Julia Buchanan?"
I didn't get the squirm I'd sadistically and stupidly aimed for. I was too surprised to call for Faye when he grabbed my arm fast as lightning and yanked me out the doors. He dragged me through the cafeteria and out into the empty hall, where he finally let go and I oriented myself again.
"What the hell are you on!?" I snapped, cradling my wrist for dramatic effect. I hadn't expected that pull. I'd forgotten: kid or not, he's still Syndicate. Dragons come in all sizes, but never without teeth.
"How do you know about Julia?" Bill demanded. I looked up and found him in a state of extreme agitated emotion.
"Faye was lookin for Spike's grave," I mumbled out; it'd do no good to lie, and I couldn't think of a better excuse anyway. "She pointed out a couple plots…Julia's…some guy named Mao's… that's all I know, just the name." I glared into his face. "What are you so scared of?"
His composure—most of it at least—returned with impressive speed. He shook his head. "Not scared. Just wondering who the fuck you were, for a second there, that's all."
"What's that mean?"
"It means most people outside the Syndicate don't know about her—hardly anyone knows her last name, I only got it on accident when I was filing papers," Bill was looking embarrassed now. Egotists don't like their bravado broken. "You go dropping names like hers to just anyone, and they're gonna think that Shirley Temple personality is just an act. They're gonna think you're up to something, since how else could you know?"
So who had he thought I was—queen of the ninjas out to Kill Bill his sorry butt?
"I don't know anything," I reminded him, deciding not to even ask who Shirley Temple was. "That's why I tried to get it out of you, I was just curious."
He glowered, and the old attitude was back. "Like I told you, mind your own business," he growled, pretending to adjust his clip-on tie. "This is a bad place to ask questions—if you get too many answers you become a liability."
"So, curiosity gets the cat assassinated?"
"Bingo."
~*~*~
Starting the day off like that, I'd have rather had eaten something that was part of 'this complete breakfast'. But the Bill thing turned out to be okay. By throwing me off my rocker first thing in the morning, he reminded me that even though it was a new day, the factors of the day before were still at large and lying in wait. I didn't have the leeway to bitch and moan when I'd have to be on my toes because the plan for the day was now: "fix it".
Faye and I were going to find Marla, and then find some way to fix this whole thing, and I couldn't forget that objective because it was the one thing I was going to be useful for. I knew Marla best, and for once, people were going to actually be counting on me to call her bluffs, warn them of her personality, and I couldn't be waiting my time joking with schoolboys, fake or otherwise.
At least, that was what the pep-talk I gave myself into the bathroom mirror pretty much sounded like. I'd run off after the Bill escapade, not hungry but not wanting to just wait around. I found the public bathroom in the lobby and rushed in, telling myself that I was not hiding, but doing the productive thing and trying to get that blood stain off my shirt.
I ended up locking myself in a stall and taking deep breaths.
I don't think I was in there long before someone came in the room and knocked on my stall door. I opened it right away, and moved past the visitor straight to the sink to wash my hands, pretending I'd actually come in on business instead of a Brigit Jones breakdown.
The guy asked me how I was doing and I didn't appreciate it at all. The visitor was another Syndicate Joe that I hadn't even met, and I really wasn't in the mood to make any more new friends.
But it was interesting, at least. He asked me about Bill…he'd seen the kid drag me through the conference room and wanted to know if I was having trouble.
"No trouble," I said. "He just can't take a joke, that's all. I made fun of his clothes."
"Well I apologize for him, Miss Chen," said the guy. "Don't let the kids bother you, they don't know anything." And with that, he nodded politely and left.
It took me a couple seconds to realize that the man hadn't just come across me---this was the ladies room and he'd come looking for me, specifically. Me, the woman who just last night Dragons were making catcalls at. I'd gone from 'Baby doll' to 'Miss Chen' in less than eight hours, clearly I'd missed something.
I shook my head and corked my curiosity…for the moment. The inborn security a girl has known in the women's restroom since elementary school was now gone for me. I suddenly realized how scared I'd been to start the day, but as soon as I knew there was nowhere in this building to completely hide, I was more than ready to not only start the day, but get it the hell over with.
When I resurfaced in the lobby, Faye was at the receptionist's desk on the phone. I didn't have to ask to know she was talking to Marla. We were going to have to sit down to her and somehow figure out a way to stop what she'd started, and wasn't sure what I should expect from her.
"Somebody's looking for you," someone said. I looked up, it was Spike. His coat was on, and that could only mean he was coming with us to meet Marla— but wasn't drawing him out into the open what the Gold Serpent Circle wanted? Of course he knew that, but despite the prospect that he might be walking into a trap, he looked pretty refreshed…for Spike, anyway. His hands were in his pockets, shoulders just a little too high, and his cigarette barely clinging to his lips. "Guy asking if a Vivika Chen had a room here."
I shrugged. "What'd you say?"
"What any hotel would say," he smirked and turned mock-amiable. " 'I'm sorry, Sir, but we are not at liberty to disclose that information'."
"Nice jargon."
"He said the same thing." I raised an eyebrow and he caught it. "Care to say who it was?"
Jargon—I'd learned that from Jerry. I replayed our warped conversation in my mind as I answered. "His name's Jerry McKelley, he's Marla's lawyer…I think the place he works for is Horris and Hallaway…might be Callaway."
"Hearst was looking for you two?"
"No, we checked in with her. It was just him looking, and I told him I was staying in Tharsis because I'd already paid for a hotel room…I never thought he'd start calling hotels. He must've called a lot of them, too, cause I know he doesn't have any way to trace a call."
"Trimalchio lawyer?" he asked. "Does that mean no Syndicate connections?"
"None that I know of," I shrugged.
It later occurred to me that if Marla had made any contracts with the Circle's Standard Oil company, Jerry would know about it, but by then we were already on our way to a downtown pub to meet my boss. When we got to the car, one of the Dragon cronies opened the door for me (Bill was off spying by now) and I once again got a polite nod.
Spike stayed outside the car, talking to our driver, and I used that opportunity to talk to Faye. "Did you see that guy?" I asked.
"Not my type," she muttered. Her snideness lacked its usual ring, as if she was speaking automatically. I followed the train of her eyes and found Spike.
I lowered my voice a little. "Are you worried?"
"About that guy?"
"About Spike," I said, and her eyebrows moved. "He shouldn't be coming with us, huh? What if it's a trap?"
Faye crossed her arms and slouched down in her seat. "Marla's not subtle enough for traps," she said. Now, her eyes were on anything but Spike Spiegel. "He can take care of himself, anyway—- worry is just wasted on him."
She obviously didn't want to talk about why Spike was coming with us, so I let her have that one without extra prodding and returned to my original point.
"Faye, did you notice how that guy was nice to me?"
"And that's bad because…?"
"Not bad, just weird," I tried to explain. I looked out the window where the same crony was at Bill's usual post by the door. He seemed to feel my eyes on him; he looked in my direction for a split second, and quickly found the traffic light more interesting. "Last night they were shouting down the halls and today they're all gentlemen...it's creeping me out. It reminds me of how my family acted when Aunt Becky got out of rehab."
Faye's eyebrows arched. She stared at me for a moment, and then abruptly began to laugh. "I know what it is," she chuckled. "You were sleeping in Shin's room, they think you're his girlfriend!" she started laughing again, louder and kind of like a guy.
I felt my face scrunch up. "But I'm not!"
"What difference does that make?" Faye countered, still shaking and grinning. "Shin's a top dog around here, they wouldn't take the chance of pissin off his lady."
I opened my mouth to shout something, but Spike chose that moment to open the door and climb in. I slammed back in my seat and pouted like a preschooler, and as I was doing so things began to click in my head.
Things like how Faye had spent the night in Spike's room, and the Dragons had skipped the catcalls and gone straight into a kind of fear. What the hell had a woman done to this place to make its employees so edgy? The Red Dragon Syndicate sure had a strange philosophy when it comes to women, and the confusion it caused me made me all the happier to leave, even if our destination was bound to be unpleasant.
TBC
Well I certainly didn't see this chapter coming. It wasn't in my orrigional outline, it kind of wrote itself. The main focus this time around was Julia's impact on the Syndicate…in which I pretty much turned them all into a bunch of superstitious wierdos…hmm… not quite what I was aiming for.
Oh well, at the very least I hope I made it clear that although Vivika is ignorant, she's not exactly innocent. She's got her bitchier side just like everyone else. I realized a couple chapters ago where part of her character comes from, and that's the news reporter character named Rachel (I think) from the CB manga, a girl who wanted to learn about the Cowboys and ended up way over her head.
Anyway, I'm really swamped at school so I feel bad that I wasn't able to make this chapter as good as I'd have liked. I actually find that the information presented this time around decent enough, but I wish I could have focused more on Spike and Faye.
But therein lies the trick, huh? I'm writing a story about Spike and Faye from the POV of a character who just cant physically be with them 24/7, and so every so often people will have to just deal with a section of the story which is just Vivika if I'm going to keep my realism, but don't worry I have no plans at all to let the OC take over this fanfic, no sir. (I mean, notice that even though this chap didn't have much Spike and Faye, it was pretty much all about the Syncicate so hey, still in the Bebop motif here!)
So pretty much what I'm asking for with my long tangent, is forgiveness this time around. I know most of you wanted to see more Spike and Faye stuff, but it just wasn't possible to do this time around, but that will be plenty compensated for later on, believe me.
I thought about getting a beta to look over this one, but I figure that since my updates aren't exactly the speediest things in the world, even if it's not the best job you all still deserve to see the chapter as soon as it's done.
ANYWAY, I've got big plans for the next chapter because it's one of the turning points of the story, and if all goes well, Jet should show up—huzzah!