Disclaimer: Guess what the muse got the disclaimer for its birthday? You'll never guess... A white, rhinestone Elvis jumpsuit! And do you know what it's doing with it?! It's impersonating the King! Karaoke, disclaimer, and shiny rhinestones are not an attractive combination, let me tell you...
A/N: The outside of my house is currently being painted. That means nauseating fumes that are making me queasy. This is in no way helping my insanity...
~ Panther Nesmith, KatLeBeau, Rehsh, T., Makura Koneko, girlonthem00n, Lemon Parade - *leads group to jam-packed parking lot* Take your pick of any car you want. The only thing is, we've misplaced all the keys, so... *distributes sledgehammers* Be wary of the flying shards of glass... And if any alarm goes off, we've never met! : )
~ Disturbed Courtney - Eep! Rushing the Remy/Rogue lovin'? Isn't that a bad thing? I mean, don't most women complain that they don't get enough forepl- Oops! *bends to scoop mind out of gutter* ; )
~ Fleurdelys - I find it so fascinating that your first language is French. While the rest of us are all faking it... : ) Bunnies are sold in pet stores? You mean they aren't specifically bred to wreak havoc in the world?
~ Mag Carter - I don't think I'll be able to rip anything off, especially not bunny parts. Who's to say that their blood isn't tainted? You know, a last ditch effort to kill me or something. I wouldn't put it past them.
~ Ning Ning - "Is this going to be a long one?" Well, let me put it this way, both After Midnight and Hazard were only supposed to be five chapters each. One ended with nineteen and the other with nine, so that should tell us something... (That I'm so long-winded that I am physically incapable of writing anything short? ... possibly. ; ) As for The Madness Series – Ooh, look at that! Shameless plugs left and right! – you've probably guessed that it's one of those on-going fics. I write a chapter every now and then, in between the 'serious' stories. It's supposed to be a stress-reliever... until I get stuck on it and it becomes the stress-producer! But no worries; I have the next few chapter ideas floating around in my brain... : )
~ ishandahalf - 1) What?! Rogue left the table before Remy got there? No, she didn't! *looks over last chapter* ... huh... would you look at that... she did. 2) Are you analyzing the story?! Trying to figure out if they're mutants or not, young Sherlock Holmes? If you do find something, could you clue me in? 'Cause I don't know what the hell's going on... 3) I'm attempting to see if I can pull off writing other couples, not just Rogue and Remy. So far there's Scott/Jean over in Madness... and then Logan/Ororo here. Don't know if I'm doing so great, though... 4) WHAT?! NO CLIFFHANGER?! What the - ? How the heck did that happen? *struggles against adamantium chains* C'mon! Let me go! Gotta fix it so that there's a cliffhanger in every chapter! It just ain't right any other way!
~ Eileen Blazer - You have a corpse shoved in your bottom drawer? Doesn't that start to leave a smell after a while? ; ) ... "Splendiferific"? Coolness! You've made your own word! You better copyright that before someone – *coughMEcough* – steals it right out from under you.
~ Alwaysright - Well, you didn't give me much choice there, did you? You've already got the tent up in the corner, I see. Don't think I won't come over to hang out or something! I'm very adept at making an unwelcome guest out of myself! ; )
~ Rogue15 - Well, you could always steal someone else's keyboard. And when they try to give you the entire system, be firm and say, "No, thank you. I'm good with just the 'board." ; )
~ Malena - You're right, I couldn't stop grinning at that! What can I say? I never claimed to be sane. ; )
~ Christy S - *proceeds to zip lips, then grins wickedly*
~ Samman - I got both your reviews, safe and sound with no problem. Many thanks for adding to the review count!
~ Goddess Evie - I don't think the bunnies like anyone.
~ Green Eyed Lilys Daughter - "Logan is Rogue's older sister"? *gasp!* Logan's a transsexual?! When did that happen? (*grin* Don't mind me; I'm just being stupid today... ; )
~ melancholic - I don't think the kissing of the feet is such a good idea right about now, fresh nail polish and all. Unless of course you like the polish-instead-of-lipstick look. : )
~ Marie - But what if all those animal species decide to have a mutiny? Then what would we do? ... Flying monkeys, cool whip, weed whacker and a box of matches? Do I even want to know?
~ SLH - Wow, you actually understood my response to your first review? That's amazing, considering I didn't understand it myself! ; )
CHAPTER 3
Cash and Cages
I checked my watch. It was about ten minutes to midnight. A little less than two hours since Miles left me here at the bar to attend to 'work.' Never really got a clear idea of what type of work he did exactly. Kind of got the impression that it wasn't all that clean, but what did I care? Miles was my cousin, and the closest thing I had to an older brother. He and I had been tight ever since he came to live with us when his parents died almost ten years ago. He'd moved out since then, going off to college and then eventually into the 'real' world. But we got together every once in a while just to hang out.
I called him earlier that afternoon, told him about the breakup with Melanie. How she gave me the kiss of death, complete with a handful of salt and an open wound – "I really like you, Brian, really I do. But I think we'd be better off as friends." Then two seconds later, asked for Rich's phone number.
What the hell was that?! She couldn't possibly think she was being subtle. Unless she thought 'subtle' meant hitting me over the head with a two-by-four. I was beginning to understand why men considered women such a mystery; the more I learned, the less I knew. If that didn't make any sense at all, then you knew exactly what I was talking about.
So there I was, so many hours after calling Miles, sitting in a bar that shouldn't have even let me near the front entrance, much less over the threshold. The beer in front of me had been sitting there ever since. I'd been sipping mostly, trying to make it last. Mainly because I didn't think the bartender would give me another if I'd order one. They were already bending the rules for me by letting me in; wouldn't want to push my luck any further.
Speaking of luck... About an hour ago, one of the hottest women I'd ever laid eyes on had been breathing in my ear. My ear. Punch me now if that wasn't one of the sexiest turn-ons known to man. She had these big, shiny green eyes and a pouty smile. And that body... Let me just say that I was glad I was sitting down and facing the bar, and leave it at that.
After she left me, I watched her make her way through the crowd, stopping at a table to the side, just off the main floor. I couldn't see exactly who was seated there, or even how many there were. Aside from a support beam that blocked my view, a waist-high wall sectioned off the area. Whoever sat at that table must have been important – as important as someone could be in a bar, mind you.
An arm slung itself over my shoulder. Miles. Finally done with 'work.'
"So, little cousin," he said with a sly grin, "you drunk yet?"
"I wish." I picked up my beer. "This thing went warm 'bout an hour ago."
"Well, that's as close to drunk as you're gonna get, kid. We already lied to your mom about what we were doing tonight. Imagine how much shit we'd get into if you came home plastered." He tapped me on the head with the black notebook he was holding.
"What's that?" I asked, curious.
He followed my gaze.
"Just work."
I scowled a little. My cousin wasn't the most detailed of people when it came to answering questions.
Pulling me to my feet, he said,
"Come on. I'll introduce you to Patch."
"Patch?"
If he heard me, he didn't answer. Instead, I found myself being dragged to the exact table that I'd been staring at minutes before. It was a lot bigger than the rest of the ones in the bar, obviously meant to hold a larger group. I would've guessed fifteen at the most, though only five seats were currently being used. But from the looks of things, there were a few more people missing, including the girl I'd met earlier. The other unused chairs were stacked neatly in the far corner, next to an open door that lead into a back hallway. I have to admit, my curiosity was peaked. I wanted to find out where that hall led. The little adventurer in me was itching to explore.
But my attention was drawn back to the people seated at the table. All of them were men; a few years older than Miles from what I could see. The one directly in front of me had sandy blonde, almost brown hair. He was the only one who looked around Miles' age. I immediately got the impression that he was the class clown. We walked in on the punch line, which got him mixed reactions from his friends - a couple of chuckles, but mainly shakes of the head that made me think they wanted to shut him up more than anything else.
The man to his right had brown hair. When he turned in his seat, I caught sight of red sunglasses covering his eyes. Funny that he was wearing them at night... indoors... in a dimly lit bar... But whatever...
Next came another dark-haired guy. This one didn't even bother to glance in our direction when we walked up. He was leaning back in his chair like he didn't give a damn, and shuffling the deck of cards like a he'd been doing it since he popped out of his mother's womb.
My eyes wandered over to the man at his side. What was with Miles' friends and dark hair? Was it like a mandatory thing or something? This one had jet-black curls that got into his eyes every now and then. He was stocky and buff, like he worked out twenty-four/seven, while the other three guys were on the leaner side. If he challenged me to an arm-wrestling match, I was going to give him a definite no. Maybe I could fake tennis elbow or something.
The only man with any kind of color in his hair was last. He was a redhead with a scar on his upper lip that reminded me of a pirate. All he needed was a patch over one eye and a parrot on his shoulder demanding for a cracker.
"Hey, Miles," the bodybuilder said, resting his forearm on the back of his chair. "We rolling in dough yet?"
"Just about, Frankie." He turned in my direction. "Guys, this is Brian, my cousin. Brian, that's Jimmy, Frank, Remy, Scott and Bobby."
"Hey." I nodded in greeting. I was a little surprised when Scott extended his hand toward me.
"How're you doing, Brian?" he asked. His polite tone seemed out of place in the middle of a bar with such a shady reputation, but I appreciated his friendliness.
I took his hand and replied,
"Not bad."
Next to me, Miles glanced around and asked, "Where's Patch?"
"Right here."
I looked up and saw a man walk out of the door in the back. There was no doubting his position in the group. It was like he oozed power, making him look bigger and taller than he actually was. The gruff, don't-screw-around-with-me expression on his features didn't hurt either, I supposed. He reminded me of Couch Hendricks at school – tough-as-nails, drill-sergeant kind of mean. The type who could make grown men wet themselves out of sheer intimidation.
"What's with Junior here, Miles?" he asked, lighting his cigar. I swear it looked like the smoke was dancing around his face because he'd ordered it to. "We get inta babysittin' without me knowin'?"
Funny enough, Miles didn't seem fazed at all, not even a hint of fear. I think I was scared enough for the both of us.
"This is my cousin Brian. Brian, this is Logan. He owns the bar."
I didn't really want to, but I made myself walk around the table and shake Logan's outstretched hand. I was afraid that if I didn't, he'd hurt me. And that wouldn't be a good thing.
"Cousin, huh?" Logan looked me over like he was appraising my appearance. "Yer lucky you don' look like Miles, kid. You still got a fightin' chance." He motioned to the stacked chairs behind us. "Get yerself a seat an' park it."
I didn't need to be told twice.
"Sal give you a beer at the bar?" he asked once I'd settle down next to him.
"Yes, sir."
He smirked. I don't know if the 'sir' comment irked him or made him laugh. I would have to guess the latter since I still had all my body parts in proper working condition.
"Well, that means no more liquor then."
A voice called out, "Why? Did you go an' drink it all, Logan?"
I knew that voice. It was the same as the one that had whispered in my ear an hour before. I turned. She was standing in the doorway, hands on her hips, with a smirk that looked almost exactly like Logan's.
"You gonna let him get away with that, 'Ro?" she continued, addressing the woman behind her.
I glanced in the other woman's direction and nearly had to pick my jaw up off the floor. Were all the women in this bar that gorgeous? No wonder Miles had no problem working into the wee hours of the morning. With motivation like that, who wouldn't?
Instead of replying, the dark-skinned woman rested her hands on Logan's shoulders and said,
"We have company tonight, I see." She smiled at me before anyone could answer. "I am Ororo Munroe. You must be Miles' cousin."
"Yes, ma'am."
She smiled again, and then turned back to my hot girl. "This is - "
"We already met, 'Ro. Back at th' bar."
I could've sworn Logan's eyebrows shot up at that declaration. He didn't say anything, though. Just pulled out a seat for Ororo and then looked past her toward Miles. "So, we're closed?"
Miles nodded. "Ten minutes before the fight. Right on schedule."
"Any heavy hitters?"
They were obviously talking shop. Miles flipped his black notebook open and was thumbing through it. "The usual. A handful of dollar bets, a few nickels."
"Dimes?"
"One or two. Not as many as there are when we have a champion bout."
Their words were going right over my head. Rogue must have noticed because she leaned toward me and asked, "Gettin' a li'l lost, sugah?"
"Kind of. They're talking about betting, right?"
"That's right. Miles is our resident bookie." She frowned slightly when she saw my expression. "You didn' know that?"
"No." I didn't really know if being a sports book was a good thing. Couldn't he get into trouble with the cops for what he was doing? "Is it legal?"
She smiled as she took a seat next to me. "More or less. Th' cops don' really bother us, though."
That was supposed to comfort me, but I wasn't sure if I was all that comforted. The thought of Miles going to jail for being connected with some illegal gambling ring didn't really sit well with me. Still... a part of me couldn't help but feel impressed. It sounded like something straight out of a movie. Of course, only Miles could have gone out and found a cool job like that.
A question hit me.
"Why are they talking about coins? Is that all a bet costs - a dime?"
I must have said something funny 'cause Rogue chuckled. "We're talkin' 'bout somethin' a li'l heftier than ten cents, sugah." She set the drink she'd been holding down. "A dollar bet is a hundred dollars, a nickel is five hundred, an' a dime is a thousand. Not exactly th' kind o' spare change you keep in yoah pocket."
My jaw must have hit the floor then. Whoa... that was a lot of money.
"What are they betting on?"
She pointed to the cage in the center of the bar. Not that I'd missed that particular feature walking in, but I kind of forgot about it in lieu of everything else. The proverbial elephant in the room, I guess.
"You see, homme," the card-shuffler called from across the table – Remy, I think it was. "A couple o' old ladies are gonna step inta dat cage dere, an' when de bell sounds, dey're gonna start knittin' like crazy, see who c'n make a nice turtleneck de fastest."
Rogue turned to him. "Then if that's th' case, Cajun, shouldn't you be gettin' ready fo' th' fight? Warm up yoah knittin' needles or somethin'?"
"If I were gonna make anyt'in', chère, it'd involve leather an' lace, a garter belt... an' you."
I stole a glance at Rogue then, expecting her to blush at such a fresh remark. Instead, I saw her roll her eyes and scoff. She reached over and picked up the table napkin that was in front of Remy.
"Why don' you get one o' yoah bunnies instead? What's yoah count up ta now - a million an' one?"
"Non... but give me a few days..."
Disgust colored her features. "What are you even doin' here? Shouldn't you be out skulkin' around some dark alley somewhere?"
"Could ask de same t'ing o' you, petite. Dey finally come t' deir senses an' throw you out o' school?"
Scott cleared his throat and then glanced in my direction. "Don't mind these two, Brian. We never do. It's probably that time of the month again... for both of them."
"I beg ya pardon, mon ami." Remy grinned. "Don' get my period 'til next week."
"If at all... You prob'ly got knocked up by some hussy on th' side o' th' road."
"An' you'd know all about dat, wouldn't you, chère?"
"Gumbo."
The warning was subtle, low. We barely heard it over everything else in the room, but it was like a hand slamming onto the tabletop, stopping the line of conversation. I looked to my left. Logan was still talking to Miles about the night's betting status, but he'd taken a second to referee the exchange on the other side of the table. I wondered why.
"Go figure," the sandy blonde - Bobby - was saying under his breath. "Jimmy makes one joke and he nearly gets a gut full of claws. The Cajun's been going on for a solid five minutes and all he gets is a slap on the wrist."
"Still perfectin' dat whinin' talent o' yours, eh, homme?"
Rogue stood. "Ah'm gonna go see if Ah can't grab somethin' ta eat in th' back. Anybody want anythin'?" When the others shook their heads, she looked at me. "What about you, sugah?"
"No thanks," I said, following her movements as she disappeared through the door she'd come out of earlier. I turned back to the table and noticed that nearly everyone else had been watching her leave, too.
Everyone but the Cajun, that was.
Again, I wondered why.
Wow, talk about the story writing itself. I didn't even think much about the OC's when this fic started, and now one of them took over an entire chapter! Man, the things they do to get their lousy fifteen minutes of fame...
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