It's easy to be like this.
It's easy to be the hard girl in the room.
It's easy to come off as kind and then let the mask fall down.

It's easy to be Spencer Carlin if you've lived a life like Spencer Carlin's.

See, no one knows about her.
Not even Aiden Dennison and all the people he pays.
Certainly not Ashley Davies.
Even those who bow and scrape for the scraps off of Spencer's plate don't know a thing about her.
Where she comes from, who she gets that blonde hair from, where she gets that laugh from... Nobody knows those things.

Except for Spencer Carlin.

And it's easy to forget. It's easy to reinvent yourself.
It's easy to shed the skin and be born again.
It's easy to take a sad song and make it so much fucking better, right, Jude?

Her brother, Glen, used to love The Beatles.

But she's not listened to them much for the past seven years or so.

There are days, though, when she'll shut her door and dig around and put an old .45 on.
And she'll try to recall Glen's face.
But it's too easy to misplace a memory.
It's too easy to misplace a whole other world after a while.

You build something new, something out of nothing, and you tell everyone that it is yours - and yours alone.
You build a name. You craft an empire. You snap your fingers and people come running.

It's easy to be like this.

It's easy for Spencer to be like this.

And Glen, he was never this cold or this hard or this ruthless.
But Spencer... Spencer always was.

/ / / /

Ashley wakes up alone.
Which does not surprise her at all.

The sheet is haphazardly wrapped around her waist, tangled up in her body, and she is still very much naked.
The gray light of the day is pushing past heavy curtains and it looks like it might rain, out there in the city where thousands of people go about their day.

School-teachers. Bankers. Cab drivers. Kids. Cops. Parents.
Just a day to day world.

Ashley's never known such a world, though.
And it is likely that she never will.
She supposes that that should make her feel remorse of some kind.
But it doesn't.

How could she feel regret of any kind after last night?

Her mind was flying and her limbs were barely functioning, but Ashley made a detailed mental recording of every blissful second that Spencer Carlin was inside of her.
With that tongue. With those fingers.
She can feel the deep down pulsing even now, the way it curls up within her, so willing to strike out once more and find purchase in her strong desire.

It causes her jaw to clench and that's when remembered ecstasy fades to a dull - but overwhelming - ache.
So, she gets up and fumbles around for her clothing, jeans on but not buttoned, shirt inside out, boots slipped on and unlaced. And one of the guards greets her with a bored expression, the newspaper settling to his lap as he watches her walk into the kitchen and watches her open the bottle of pills and watches her take two of the tablets.

"Enjoy the show?" She smirks and it hurts her face, but she tries not to show it.

He just lifts the paper back up.

And she snoops around the refrigerator, taking a bite of some kind of cheese spread and plucking an olive or two. She almost snags a beer, but thinks better of that.
And her jaw is killing her, but she is desperately hungry.
And this place is nice, but she wants to go to her apartment.
And sex with Spencer is addictive, but she doesn't want to wear out her welcome either.

"You're not going anywhere."

Ashley's hand freezes on the door-knob. She does not turn around, though.

"Yes, I am."
"Ms. Carlin wants you to stay until she returns."
"Yea, well, tell her I'll come back later. That's a promise."

But there is another guy right outside the door, statue-like sentry in the hallway, looking quite capable of blocking Ashley from leaving.
Looking like he might enjoy doing such a thing.

And her jaw hurts even more now, but that's because her teeth are grinding.
And this place is nice, but it's really just a pristine prison.
And sex with Spencer is addictive, but just like all addictions, it comes with drawbacks.

There aren't any ropes.
But Ashley suddenly feels very much bound.

/ / /

"Well, what an unexpected pleasure, Spencer Carlin."

His voice is light and perfectly polite. Hers is much the same.

"Your proposal intrigued me, Dennison. I'd like to see how you think combining our efforts would work."
"Then, by all means, let's meet."
"I hope you aren't offended when I suggest somewhere neutral."
"Not at all. I would do the same. Besides, this is your turf... I'll play by your rules."
"Thanks so much."

Her voice drips with false care. And his voice does exactly the same.

"There's bar, two blocks north of the wharf. The Red Door. Does six o'clock work?"
"Of course. I'll see you there."
"Good."
"And Carlin?"

A pregnant pause. An ace up the sleeve. The first move.

"Tell Ashley I said hello, won't you? It's been a long time since she and I have seen one another."

And Spencer smiles softly, watching the traffic pass by as she sits at a red light, because she has been waiting for this.

"Certainly, Dennison. I'm sure she'll be happy to hear from you."

And hands are shown.
But, as with all games, only one hand can win.

/ /

"I want out of here."

And Spencer lightly shrugs her shoulders, sitting a leather briefcase down on the coffee table.

"Alright."

Ashley bites her tongue, just barely stopping a barrage of complaints that she was sure she'd have to launch into. But Spencer's agreement is quick and simple and it catches Ashley off guard.

"Um, okay. Good then. So... I'll be going now."
"Before you do, how are you feeling?"

Spencer's face is almost interested. Almost caring. Almost kind.
Ashley can't help the warring factors bustling around her brain - the larger side of her that says to not trust this, to watch closely for the traps in that voice and on that lovely face.
But there is this other side, that doesn't have a proper name, that sort of wishes all those 'almosts' were somehow true.

Ashley must still be high off those pills.
She must still be hurting from that hit and that tight grip.
She must be going mad and needs to run as fast as she can.

"Uh, better. I guess."
"Did my guys take care of you while I was gone?"

It's a cross between being a friend and being a pet, that's the tone in Spencer's voice.
Is Ashley a person that this blonde wants to know?
Is Ashley a thing that this blonde likes to think she owns?
That tone, it bothers Ashley.
It reminds her of Aiden. It reminds her of Aiden - a lot.

"Yea."
"That's good. Want a beer?"
"No."
"Oh c'mon Ashley... You and I have reached such a nice place in our... involvement. Let's toast to that."

Spencer's smile takes on a familiar slant. More what Ashley is used to and that settles Ashley's nerves a bit. Better the enemy you know and all that.
And while lust is still lingering about her bones, Ashley Davies can shove it aside for a while.
Spencer is delectable, anyone with eyes can see that.
And she is downright wonderful in bed and Ashley likes that aspect of the woman more and more each day that goes by.
But Spencer is still Spencer Carlin - leader of the pack and not a woman to underestimate.

The blonde is vicious and draws a hard line.
Cross that line at your own peril.
And Ashley has a sinking feeling that she is on the tightrope now, but the way she came is blocked and the way ahead is in the shadows.

Spencer hands her a cold bottle and Ashley takes measured sips, whereas the blonde takes a long pull off her drink - throat rolling like an ivory wave and Ashley's eyes betray her.
Again.
Spencer smirks at her as she sets the bottle down and Ashley finds her eyes blinking slowly, like they cannot catch up with the rest of her movements. Or like she is on repeat, each action happening twice and each action more sloth-like than the first time around.

Spencer's hand is on her face, cupping the jaw almost tenderly, and the other hand is a distant weight on Ashley's hip - keeping them close together.

"You wear your weakness on your sleeve, Ashley."

And Ashley rolls her eyes towards the blonde woman, trying very hard to focus all her energy and to make her mouth work.

"You've... done it... again..."
"Mmhmm... Can't have you see the way in or out. Too risky. What if one day you want to burn my house down?"

Spencer chuckles and it is a gorgeous thing, really it is, and it is the last thing that Ashley hears before she passes right out.

/

"It would be a healthy respect for boundaries, of course. But if I pick up a business in your territory, then you'd get more than half. And if you snag a prospect in my area, I get more than half. If my boys run into trouble, help them out and I give you more clients... personal clients of mine that pay very well. And if your guys need assistance, then I freely give it to them."

Spencer smiles and swirls the wine in her glass around.

"'Freely' being a loose term, obviously."

Aiden smiles back, effortless and calm.

"Obviously."

On paper, it is cut and dry. It is a greasing of the palms. It is quid pro quo between giants.
It would mean a widening of Spencer's reach, which is always a good thing.
And for Aiden Dennison, it would be the alignment with another force in the criminal underworld - a highly profitable one, in fact.
He'd get another boost to that ego.
And so would she.

It's win-win, really.

"I don't see any reason to not entertain this notion of yours, Dennison."

The man smiles, waving over a waiter and ordering a bottle of champagne.

"This calls for a celebration, don't you think?"

Spencer nods in affirmation, draining her glass and sitting it down for the waiter to fill up once he returns. Aiden slides a pen over to Spencer and uncaps one of his own.
All it takes is a name on the dotted line.
And then they would be tied to one another until the end of time, a sham marriage with monetary benefits and with divorce never an option.

"One question is bothering me, though."

Aiden glances over at Spencer and waits for her to continue.

"What happens if one of us should... you know, go to meet their maker?"

Aiden leans back then, cocking his head to one side, smile going from practiced cool to insanely confident.

"I don't plan on that happening. Do you?"
"Who plans on dying, Dennison?"

He laughs a bit and she grins a bit. They so good at this kind of thing. So good indeed.

"Fine, I see your point. And I think, if you... or I should kick the bucket sooner rather than later, than the other takes over all endeavors. Tries to honor the deceased by doing a good job and such. We can add that to the contracts if you like?"

And that's exactly what Spencer wants. So she says so, as if it means nothing, when it means everything. It adds a gleam to her eye, one that Aiden probably catches.
He's no fool. He's not stupid.
But he thinks he has time.
And that's where he is so wrong.

"Oh. Did you say hello to Ashley for me?"
"Sorry, it slipped my mind."
"Too bad. You know... she really isn't one to rely on. I'm sure even if you told her, she wouldn't remember to drop me a line."
"She is rather lax when it comes to following orders. Am I right to assume that she worked for you?"

Games. So many games. So many tricks and ploys.
It's always a matter of who gets that last shot in, though.
It's always a matter of who is left standing.
That's all that ever counts.

"Once upon a time. I'd love to have her back, though. Best flame-thrower out there."
"I could arrange that. If you want."
"How much?"
"No, consider it a gift. A measure of faith between associates."

He studies her and Spencer remains impenetrable.
Aloof. Relaxed. Neither here nor there, as concrete as air - as if this means nothing, as if Ashley Davies were a footnote.

And Spencer has to lower her opinion of Aiden Dennison when he buys into her act.

TBC