Enjoy!

* * * Ch. 14 – This Place is Death (Deftones) * * *

Just how much of a pig can I be?

Thinking I can do whatever I want. About everything I want to say. About everything I want to do. And my mind ends up in the gutter so quickly.

Because what I want.—I want to grip her shoulders. And I want to push her down. And I want to kiss her until she's heaving for breath. And I want to expose her skin. And kiss, and lick, and touch every inch of her body. And I want to feel her lips over me. The moisture of her tongue. My fingers sliding through her hair. I want to seize her hips. And I want.—What I want is. I want to make myself a part of her.

As if it were that easy.

Really, the last thing I need to be doing is getting myself all riled up like this. I already have a hundred and one other things to be dealing with. I don't need to be adding this to that list too.

I lean on the railing of the building and exhale. I keep my sight down, not caring when the last strands of cigarette smoke carry over my face.

From where I am, things look lifeless and only the wind moves effortlessly between the buildings and streets. I watch. Forcing myself away from my delusions.

The clouds thicken and the sky darkens as small droplets of water begin to fall. Somehow. Before I know it. I've already held my palm to the sky.

A droplet falls on my index finger, sliding for an instant before a second lands on the center of my palm. And a third. And a fourth. And I get caught. Remembering the past as it had been. Wondering about the present. Hoping for my future.

But before I know it. I'm right back where I started. And I can't but think about the nape of Faye's neck and the curve of her spine, the sweat tracing the lines of her body.

The door opens behind me. I turn back reflexively, catching Faye in the motion of slipping on her shoes.

And it's like I've been caught. My heart drops to my stomach and my throat thickens with guilt. I glance down quickly, somehow managing for "Where are you going?" to escape the back of my throat.

"Don't you ask me that," Faye murmurs in the most monotone voice possible.

I can't muster enough courage to look up and face her. But the air around us is heavy and that much is enough to let me know the extent of her anger.

Faye kicks off her shoes and goes back inside. Then the door closes. And opens again.

"Hurry up," she orders, holding the door ajar and ushering me inside with a nod of her head. "How long have you been out here for?"

But I can't answer her properly and end up muttering something that I don't even understand.

I take my shoes off slowly, being sure to keep my head down so I still won't have to face her.

She doesn't even try to force anything out of me and walks back to her bedroom. But a minute after, she says, "For a moment I thought you'd up and left."

Her tone is impossible for me to decipher. I keep quiet. Pulling my thoughts back in order and trying to remember just how it is that I'm supposed to behave around her.

But the next thing I know, Faye's pushing the comforter of her bed into my hands. Even just by holding it, I feel the warmth of her body on my fingertips and all the thoughts I'd managed to carefully arrange come clattering down.

She grunts, "I really hate this weather."

I snap my sight away from the comforter. And then away from her. "At least we're much better off than Jet."

"Did you talk to him?"

"A bit. He's having to stay at a storm shelter."

"I didn't think it'd get that bad," she grimaces. Then, she pauses before saying, "Did he tell you to stay put?"

I try to meet her eyes. But I don't know what sort of face I'm making.

"What?" she chuckles.

My lungs feel tight and I can't keep our line of sight.—I look down again, digging through my pockets for my cigarettes and lighter although I don't think I could take a single drag right now.

"I don't want to look for you in this weather, so don't just roam around as you please. Got it?"

Although she's joking, I know she's expecting a clear answer from my part. But I'm much too bitter for that. I still don't know about what happened with Damian. I don't know anything at all.

"What's with you and Jet being so worried about the weather," I retort snidely.

Faye either pretends not to catch it or misunderstands the tone of my voice. "You're from here, so you'd say something like that. I still can't get used to it at all though…So, just do as you're told."

I click my tongue and walk past her, "It's not like I can go anywhere else anyway." And that much is the truth.

I make my way to the couch and empty my pockets on the coffee table before sitting down, the comforter messily placed over my body. From the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of Faye walking to the back of the kitchen. And a minute after, I hear the cycle of the washing machine started.

I hear her around the kitchen. And then moving around in her bedroom before she comes back into the living room. Whether she does this on purpose or not, I don't know. But it gives me enough time to subdue my guilt and anxiety.

She picks up the cigarettes and lighter I've placed on the table saying,"I'm washing that other comforter so you can use it. Those girls, I swear, it's like they shower with perfume. I can't ever use anything after them without getting a headache."

"Ah, so you can actually do it?"

"Do what?"

"Use a washer." And I say this with just enough of a smirk on my face to offend her.

"Spike…Sometimes I don't know if you're just dense or if you're really just an idiot."

But I don't hate the way she says that. Because I'm glad to know there won't be another fragrance I'll have to pile on top of everything I've already used today. And because I'm glad Faye's doing something trivial just for me.

"Thanks for the smoke," she says and lights a cigarette before I can speak up against it. She sits down and leans back on the couch, sighing. "I'm so damn jealous," she mutters. "Why are you so relaxed? I can't settle down at all."

There's no way I'm relaxed. I'm not calm. Not calm at all. I've just reached a limit. Because there's too much for me to be worrying about. So much so that I end up doing nothing at all.—And the anxiety, it just keeps piling up, compressing on itself while sitting at the pit of my stomach.

"What is it?" she asks. I shake my head a bit and watch her take another drag before forcing my sight away from her.

That's right. How can I forget so quickly? There's no need for me to force myself away from her. Because I can do whatever I want. Because I have so many things I want to ask her. And there are so many things I want to know.

What I want. For at least while we're like this, I want to talk to her like we used to do.—No. That's not right either. I just. I just want to talk to her.

"…Is it just the weather bothering you?" I speak as casually as possible, keeping my expression neutral and my hands relaxed.

But it seems to throw her off. She doesn't respond. We sit there in silence for a moment before she speaks. "I'm not sure anymore," she says, the smoke caressing her face as she speaks.

She glances at me and I manage to keep my sight on her until she looks away. She presses her lips and frowns. "Ugh! I keep forgetting I broke the damned thing."

I force myself to maintain normalcy, worrying if that much has made her more hesitant than I had hoped or intended. "Ashtray?"

"Yeah…," she rubs the bridge of her nose a couple of times. "Wait–"

"–I couldn't find one earlier," I cut in. "But saying you broke it like that. What exactly did you do?"

Please let this be enough. Please understand. Please don't make me say it out loud…that I want to talk to you. I don't know if I can do that just yet.

When I glance at her, she's holding her arms close to her body, a smile across her lips. A chuckle escapes her.

"So there is something."

"Unfortunately," Faye mutters. She tries to keep her face straight, but after a second, she absolutely fails to do so.

I've been curious about the missing ashtray since earlier. But now, with that sort of reaction, she's really piqued my interest. "So, what was it?" I insist.

"Why do you want to know?"

"Because why not?" I retort.

She's quiet for a second, her expression finally under control. "Okay…" she begins. But another moment passes before she speaks again. "The weather was nice a couple of days ago, so I was outside smoking. I was looking around the courtyard, looking for nothing really. But then I see Jess running across and making her way up to the apartments."

She pauses and looks over at me.

"She does weird things like that sometimes. But then, I see a woman behind her. Shouting at her. And cussing her out for ruining her family. But because of her job, Jess gets a lot of shit like that, so I didn't think too much of it. Except. When I look at them again, the woman's closer to Jess and she's pulling something out of her purse. And I see this glint. And it kind of freaks me out. And so I just grab the thing and throw it at her!"

"The ashtray?"

"Yes."

"From the fourth floor?"

"From where else?"

I snicker and Faye smiles at my reaction.

"Well, it was made of glass and had a nice weight. So, I managed to aim it well enough that the woman freaked out when it shattered next to her. And Jess kept on running until she made it here." Faye pauses. "I'm pretty sure that woman hasn't figured out what actually happened. But she hasn't bothered Jess since then, so maybe she's taking it as a divine sign or something." She laughs, probably happy to be playing god.

Then, without another word, Faye stands up and walks to the kitchen. I watch her pull a small ceramic saucer from a cabinet and make her way back to the living room. Once she sits down again, she asks, "So what have you been up to?"

"What exactly?" I ask, unsure of how to reply.

"Well, you know," she says, adjusting a corner of the comforter over her feet and ankles. "Have you thrown any ashtrays at anyone lately?"

I chuckle under my breath, noticing that Faye's unwilling to ask for a share of her blanket. "No, not at all," I reply and pull the comforter away from myself.

She seems offended that I've also uncovered her feet. "There must be something," she insists, her voice a bit bitter.

"I don't know." I mutter, throwing the comforter over both of us.

"That's not fair," she says. But she looks rather smug, pulling the blanket over her chest. "If you ask me to tell you something embarrassing, you should do the same when I ask you."

"I'm not saying I won't tell you," I reply. "Just that I didn't throw anything at anyone."

She leans back on the couch, holding the saucer and cigarette close to her body. "So…if you didn't throw an ashtray at someone, then…someone must have thrown it at you, right?"

And I immediately remember something.

Faye catches on. "Ah! Someone did! You have to tell me now."

It makes me happy. And it makes me nervous. Because I'm the one who wants to talk to her. Although, on this topic, it's a little harder to remind myself of that idea.

"Fine," I grumble, uncertain of how to proceed.

Faye seems overly ecstatic. She puts the butt of her cigarette out and places the saucer down on the coffee table. She pulls her legs close to her body and rests her head, facing me.

I click my tongue.

"A couple of months back, Jet and I stopped at this small-ish town. Cape something…One of the engines of the Bebop needed to be repaired and this place had the part we needed. But Jet was taking care of that. So I was just getting bored from all the waiting we had to do. And this one night, I decide to go out and take a walk. It was a nice town. And I end up finding this cozy looking place with live music. So I go in for a drink and I'm there maybe twenty minutes before I realize it. But everyone at this place was dancing."

I stop and look at Faye to make sure she's following along.

"And then?" she asks.

"No, you have to understand this—no one was sitting down for much longer than a song.—Well, I was. So, of course I'm standing out like a sore thumb. And I decide it's better to leave. But when I ask for the tab, the bartender starts talking to me. And what's the first thing he says?…'You're not from around here, are you?'"

Faye chuckles, "I saw that coming."

"So I tell him I'm just passing by and I ask for the tab. But he keeps talking to me. And he tells me I should stay a bit longer and find someone to dance with–"

Faye can't contain her laughter. "Can I see that? I want to see that!"

And just watching her reaction to this. Somehow, I end up laughing too.

"So I tell him again that I just want the tab. But people like that can't let things go. So, he goes on to tell me that there's a saying in town: Men make love only as well as they can dance."

Faye scoffs at this, saying, "If only it were that easy."

I smirk at her reaction, "It's like a canonical rule there. So, he told me, 'What do you think that says of a guy who just sits there?'"

And Faye's seriousness disappears in an instant. She snickers, "So how good of a dancer are you?"

I don't even pause to acknowledge her question. Instead, I merely continue where I had left off. "The bartender even asks a girl to come and talk to me. And, I guess, try to convince me to join in on the dancing and—"

"—Was she pretty?" Faye interrupts.

The way she says this makes me nervous. As if there's definitely a right and wrong way to answer.

I cringe. "Yeah…she was a pretty girl."

"What's with that face," she notes a bit too quietly for my liking.

"You don't know the half of it."

"So, tell me. I want to know."

I have to stop for a moment. Because she says this so naturally. And I can't say it at all. But instead of anger or envy, I look at her, her head on her knees, her eyes at attention.—I should have kissed her when I had the chance.

"Spike?"

I look away and hastily pick up where I had left. "She was nice and we hit it off pretty well. So, we gave up the whole dancing bullshit and we left. We make it to her place—her friend's place—and start getting a good mood going. And then," I stop, remembering why I didn't want to begin this story to begin with. "…She says, 'I can't believe I'm doing this. You could be my dad…'"

"No way," I hear Faye mutter under her breath.

"Now, I don't think I look quite that old just yet and so I point-blank ask her how old she is. And she tells me that it's okay because she's just about to turn eighteen. This girl. She's fucking seventeen!"

"Oh my god, Spike!" This time, loud enough that her neighbors probably hear it. She sits up and covers her mouth with her hands, doing a poor job of stopping herself from laughing. "What were you doing!"

"I swear she looked like twenty-six, twenty-four at least! And why was she in a bar to begin with?" I catch myself being defensive and decide to finish this up before I regret it any more than I already do. "Anyway, I'm not going to touch her. But this girl won't take a no. And she just pushes me down and straddles me, not listening at all."

"Because you're so defenseless, right?"

"What the fuck was I supposed to do!" I argue. "I had no idea. So, I just grab her by the shoulders and force her down on the bed, telling her to stop. Except, I end up saying, 'Behave yourself and listen to what I'm saying.'…And she gets this look on her face and she says," I try to keep a straight face, "'Fine, daddy, I'll behave.'"

Faye loses it, laughing so hard her face and ears become bright red.

I continue speaking out of nervousness, hoping that if I keep mindlessly spouting things, I will be out of this soon enough. "Things just keep getting weirder and weirder after that. No matter what I do or say, she just keeps at it. I give up trying to reason with her and I start walking away. But she totally loses it. She throws all these things at me shouting, 'Don't leave me! You can't just leave me like that!'"

"That's kind of sad," Faye says, although she hardly looks concerned.

"She got me square on the shoulder with a big, ceramic vase…Had a bruise for weeks. After that, I'd be damned if I wanted anything to do with anyone there. I ended up staying at the Bebop until we left. Spent a ton of time working on my Swordfish on the deck…wound up with a horrible sunburn from it."

Faye chuckles. "How grown-up of you."

"You say that, but never in my life have I felt older."

We keep quiet after. And for the first time, I notice that now she's sitting closely, cross-legged with her knee pressing on my thigh. I look down and stare at her, but she doesn't even realize. And I'm the one that ends up reacting. And I stand up before I even know it's happened.

"What is it?" Faye asks.

I scramble through my head and spit out, "The aloe vera—Didn't you say it should help with the irritation?"

"That's right…I forgot about that. It's kind of in the back, so I'll go get it." She scrambles from underneath the comforter, jumping out of the couch in a fashion eerily similar to Ed.

I sit down again, waiting. Trying to reason with myself. Or rather, trying to bring myself back into reason. I can do whatever I want? Bullshit. That's way too much freedom for me. For anyone. Because right now, if I could do whatever I want—No.—If it's not what she also wants. It's not right…That's what it comes down to.

I don't notice Faye is back in the room until I feel her weight on the couch. "I'll help you get your shirt off," she says, her fingertips already pulling at the back hem.

Fuck. This is giving me a headache…The tone of her voice. The carefulness of her touch…I wish I could fool myself to misinterpret these. But I can't. Right now, Faye's honestly concerned for my well-being. I can't just take that and twist it to my liking. What a disservice I'd be doing to myself.

Right now, I'll take things as they are…Just for now.

I sigh, "Hold on." I pull the collar and she helps guide the shirt over my head.

"Hey," she scolds, "why didn't you tell me you're getting blisters?"

"Where?"

"On your shoulder." She points right where the hot ramen had landed first, "See, right here."

I spot it easily, a blister the size of my thumbprint surrounded by a few smaller ones, in total nothing bigger than half the palm of my hand. "Huh...I hadn't noticed. But it doesn't hurt more than before—"

"Idiot! Even if it doesn't hurt more, this is something you should've been paying attention to," she snaps. "See, I knew this would happen if I ignored it. If you get any more than this, we'll have to go to the hospital."

"...Alright," I mutter. Although, if I can avoid it, I rather that not be the case. "But right now, let me try the gel and I'll keep an eye on it. This is not so bad that I need to go there now."

This much appeases her. "Fine," she says placing the bottle of aloe vera gel on my hands.

I dab a portion of the gel on my palm and place it over the scalded area of the nape of my neck and shoulder. My hair stands on end. I exhale. And the goosebumps carry from my neck across my back and arms.

Faye snickers.

"It's cold," I mutter, indulging in the relief over my neck.

After a minute or so, the gel sticks to my skin and begins forming a thin film. The film shrinks and shrinks, tearing where it can't contain the flesh of my body. Except this film feels like a second skin. And when it tears, it's like my own skin is being sliced open.

Without thinking, I reach to touch my neck. To check. To be sure I'm not bleeding. But Faye stops me. "Don't," she says slapping my hand away. "Just deal with it for a bit."

"That's easy for you to say!" I sneer back at her. But just as I'm about to reproach her for thinking this was a good idea, the pain clearly begins to subside. And instead, I'm faced with a pleasant, moist warmth—as if I really had bled across my skin.

I reach out for my neck again. "Stop that!" Faye insists, clasping my fingers and pulling my hand away.

It takes a few seconds, but the warmth begins to cool, leaving me with a sensation of relief unequal to anything I've tried so far. I exhale. But there's a certain restlessness in my hands I can't shake off.

Faye tightens her grasp. I look down and away, unsure of what to make of it.

It leaves me dazed. And I fall into the role of patient so easily it irks me. And I don't mean the role itself.—No, that too.—But rather, submitting myself to her so quickly.

There's just something about Faye's mannerisms when she approaches me like this. She picks up on my anxiousness and manages to coax me into this behavior before I'm aware of it myself. Because I don't know how to act around her when she's like this. Because I'm so worried of what may come from it.

I exhale.

"What is it?"

Even though these are all things that I want now, it's hard for me…The uncertainty latches me to the past I want to pull myself away from. And I can't cut ties with anything. Not our habits. Not our mannerisms. Not our relationship as it was.

"Stop being such a kid."

I honestly don't know what to do.

"It really didn't hurt that much, right?"

I breathe slowly, mumbling under my breath, "I can't figure out if this was a good or a bad idea."

I look up and Faye smirks. "Has that ever stopped you from doing something anyway?"

That's right. Me being like this isn't helping any. Taking things as they are is fine. Not being able to sever what we were then from what we are now is fine too. But if I can't at least play patient right now, if I can't at least do that much, there's no point on even letting things be that way.

"Hey."

"What now?"

I pull myself away from her and place the bottle of gel in her hands, "You take care of this."

Faye snickers, "Alright. But don't be so fussy."

It doesn't take long for her to coat the damaged areas of my skin with a thick layer of gel. And my mind is so preoccupied, that I rarely have the chance to worry over the fact that Faye's hands are—with whatever intent—touching my skin.

This time, as soon as I feel a section of the film dry, I grit my teeth and prepare myself for the sequence. My expectations don't betray me and my face distorts as the film breaks. I close my hands, keeping them tightly fisted until the relief kicks in again.

To my luck, Faye insists on applying the gel more than once. And since I've already given in, I sit through two more sessions before she's satisfied. But I can't complain. By the end of these, even my skin has become visibly better.

At the end of this, Faye mentions, "I couldn't fall asleep earlier."

"…Because of the weather?"

"…Probably," she mutters. "I kept turning in bed thinking about everything I need to take care of. But I don't feel like doing anything at all!"

"How busy can you be?" I ask, even knowing that with her having been out and about looking for Damian, some things were bound to pile up.

"I have work all day tomorrow. But I'm hoping the front hits tonight so I won't have to go. And since you're staying here, we should go pick some groceries in case it ends up being so bad that other shops close too.—Anyway, my fridge is pretty empty right now.—Then, there's this bounty I've been keeping an eye on. She was at Angel's a lot, but hasn't shown up at all lately. I need to go check on that again. If I can't find her, I'll have wasted two months on her." She grunts, "Damn it…my week's just so screwed up."

"Sure sounds like it."

She rests her back on the couch and stretches her limbs. "Ah! Whatever! Let's eat. I'm getting hungry again."

Dinner doesn't differ much from lunch. We heat up all the leftovers and sit on the coffee table watching whatever is on television. This time, I make it a point not to ignore the weather announcements. They're much more frequent now and I'm able to catch up quickly. But really, things don't seem like they'll be all that bad here.

When the eight o'clock news begin, Faye sighs, "Do you think it's too late to go buy groceries now?"

"I don't see why." But I notice she grimaces, so I add, "Though it looks like it'll rain soon, so who knows…"

She sighs, "I guess it'll be fine if we just take an umbrella. There's a market that's kind of close by. So if we hurry, there shouldn't be a problem."

Now I'm the one to scowl.

"Don't make that face," she snaps.

"Fine, fine," I say dismissively, preferring not to tell her that I don't feel like doing much myself.

Whatever the case, we get up from the living room and change back to our street clothes. While we're at the doorway putting on our shoes, Faye hands me a red umbrella. And as a matter of fact, she makes it a point to tell me that she's doing me a great favor.

"This one I'm using, Jessica forgot a few days back and she never remembers to take it back." She lifts her hand, holding a hot pink umbrella decorated with neon yellow polka dots and trimmed with matching ruffles.

I try to keep myself from laughing, but I do quite a bit of snickering before we're finally out the door. At a slow pace, it takes us fifteen minutes to arrive at the grocery store and not a single drop of water falls in that span of time.

Apparently, many had had the forethought of picking groceries up before the weather worsened. The store isn't very crowded, but there's little choice with what is left.

I follow Faye and let her pick whatever she wants. Except when I'm trying to choose a toothbrush and she throws the cheapest one in the basket. It takes a bit to convince her, but I manage to change it for something better without much complaint. We cover the rest of the store easily, filling the cart with plenty to last several days but just enough to fit into three large tote bags.

She pays for everything herself, which is quite a surprise. But she also hands me the the two heavier bags to carry, and there's no surprise there. The walk back from the store to her apartment doesn't differ much. Although the sky has darkened with thick, gray clouds, we arrive at her place with the umbrellas hanging on our wrists, still dry and neatly folded.

She makes her way to the kitchen and asks me to place the two bags I'm carrying on the counter. She moves about, placing items in their respective areas, asking me to hand her something else once she's organized the other. This also doesn't take much. And although we waste some time, we are done just before nine thirty.

Faye asks me to gather the tote bags as she finishes organizing the refrigerator. I lay each bag flat on the counter, arranging the corners and smoothing out the wrinkles until I can roll them down neatly. I become engrossed in this task, as if it would actually make a difference how well I could store them before they had to be used again.

Next thing I know, Faye runs her palm flat across the small of my back.

I turn around so quickly that I bang my knee on one of the cabinet doors.

"Ah…did it hurt?" Faye asks.

"Did it—" I stutter. "Why the hell would you think that was a good idea?"

"Your gun. You're not carrying?" She asks so matter-of-factly she nearly seems innocent.

"It's at two o'clock!" I pull back the front of my coat to expose the gun resting on my hip. "It hurts to wear it at six right now."

"Huh...Well, you might need it later, so I thought I'd check." She starts walking off to her room, "Wait a sec, let me grab a couple of things before we head out."

"Excuse me?"

"Since the weather is holding up, how about we stop by Angel's?"

I leave the bags rolled on the counter and follow after her. "How about we don't?"

"You're a freeloader right now, so you don't have much of a choice."

And that seems to be the truth thus far.

"If you're set on it, at least let me shave first."

"Who are you trying to impress?"

"I'm trying not to look like a creep," I retort.

She smirks, "You still can't grow a beard, huh?"

I click my tongue at her. "Where's my stuff?"

"There, on the table—Hey, it's fine if I touch up my makeup while you do that, right?"

"I'm a freeloader, remember. I don't have a choice."

We crowd around her bathroom sink, bumping elbows and fighting for the mirror space. This takes much longer than I had expected and it's well past ten by the time we finally pick up the umbrellas and head out again.

The sky is purple now and a tawny colored fog rises from the liveliness of the streets. The stillness of the afternoon seems like an unnatural circumstance now. The streets are busy and wet and muddied. In that murkiness, thick clouds roll, overlap, and push each other, weaving into a thicket of fibers were neither a single glimpse of the stars or the moon is visible.

This fascinates me and I have to keep looking up at the sky from time to time. Faye and I don't say much this time around. I follow behind her as she leads us through the streets at a leisurely pace. It takes us, not twenty, but at least thirty minutes before we make it to Angel's district.

"What are you guys up to?" one of the bouncers from last night waves us towards them from afar.

"You looking for Jess?" The second bouncer adds once we're close enough to hold a conversation.

"No," Faye responds. "Today I'm checking up on Bunny."

The first smirks, "She's back."

Faye's eyes brighten up and she asks excitedly, "Really? Is she here now?"

"Nah—but she did come in earlier. I'd say two hours tops."

"Do you know where she went?"

"My shift hadn't started yet. When I came in, the boss was making a fuss about having to kick her out since she didn't have enough to pay her tab. So, if that's true, I'm guessing she's gone to the strip club to do some work."

"You think she's already working tonight?"

The first clicks her tongue, "Probably. She looked worn out, no makeup on or nothing. Looks like she came back from one of her binges with an empty wallet."

The second mumbles, "Wasn't she going clean now?"

"I'd be damned if she ever does!" the first exclaims bluntly. She turns to Faye again, "Anyway, she draws in a crowd and can make a pretty penny fast, so they hire her there as she pleases."

"I'm thinking it's about time to wrap things up...so, even if she's not there, it wouldn't hurt to go and check." Faye faces me, "Right?"

"Are you helping out, Spike?" the first asks.

I'm a bit surprised that they've both addressed me. I glance back to find Faye smiling mischievously. "I guess I am."

"Since Bunny hasn't met him, it should be useful." Faye tells the first, "But your cut won't change because of it."

"I'm not getting anything?" I blurt off-handedly.

"You're getting free food and a place to stay. That should be more than enough." Faye retorts.

I turn away from her and in the motion realize that the bouncers are smirking in a way that makes me uncomfortable. "Whatever," I mumble, hoping the conversation will quickly move on to something different.

Faye and the bouncers discuss a few more things. And I make sure to keep my involvement to a minimum. They wrap things up quickly and Faye and I start on our way.

"I'll let you know how it goes," Faye tells the first.

"Alright," she says waving goodbye. "But be careful now. And I mean both of you."

"We will," Faye says waving back.

I nod and follow after Faye again.

Behind us, the bouncers continue speaking about Bunny.

"So you're really doing it, huh?" The second asks, "You don't feel guilty helping out even after knowing Bunny for so long?"

The first sighs, "She owes me money—a lot of money. She hasn't paid me back a single woolong. I wanted to help her. I really did. But I can't be waiting on that money forever. My twins are in school now. And I have a goddamn sorry excuse of a husband filing for divorce."

And that's the last I hear of that.

"Hey, Faye," I ask.

"What is it?"

"Are you going to tell me what I'm getting myself into?"

"A mess," she grins.

"The usual then." I pause, dreading what I'm assuming will turn out to be a very long night. "Well, start with Bunny, I guess."

"Bunny," Faye begins, "…she's quite something."

"How so?"

"She's got the right looks about her. She's got this small, pretty face and her body is just right." She laughs a bit and glances at me. "But she's quick to get what she wants and she's really good handling men."

"Quite something, huh?"

"I guess," Faye retorts. "But she's kind of stuck up. And you can't stand her once she gets on her high horse."

The difference between her first and second evaluation is too stark. "Are you jealous?" I ask jokingly.

But the humor gets lost in Faye's quick reply, "That's probably right."

We take a couple of steps before she speaks again, "But you know…When I think about it, I don't—I don't miss trying to live like that at all! I get so annoyed dealing with men like that nowadays."

I want to keep hearing more from her, so I say just enough to acknowledge her as she continues to speak. "Is that how it is?"

"Yeah," she reaffirms. "I'm better off. Besides, it doesn't mean I can't do it. Just that I can choose to do it for fun if I feel like it."

"Then, that's good."

"Yeah," she says again. But the delight in her voice makes me wonder if this is the first time she's realized it.

"And you're still bounty hunting."

"That's right," she smiles. "Though, I've been going after the smaller ones. Usually, they're an easy catch and they add up after a while."

This bit gets me hopeful. Maybe tonight won't be as bad as I had expected. "Then this thing with Bunny should be over quickly?"

"I don't know."

I ask, full-well knowing the answer, "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Actually…Bunny has a good bounty on her head."

"I was hoping she'd be one of the small ones," I sigh. "No way a bounty with a good price is going to be an easy catch."

"I'm not going to deny that," Faye responds quickly. "But, I've been watching her for a while and right now is a really good chance to catch her off guard. If she has a fault, it's easily that she gets extremely careless when she's run out of money."

"So how much is she worth?" I ask thoughtlessly.

"Last I checked, it wa—"

"—Never mind." I interrupt her. "I don't want to know after all."

Faye laughs. "Are you low on money or something? No need to sound so dejected."

"That's not it," I answer. "It just feels like I've lost motivation for these things."

"Bounty hunting?" Faye asks puzzled.

"No, not that," I clarify. "Just the ones that sound too troublesome…Anyway," I continue, "what else with Bunny?"

Faye clicks her tongue, "You ask, but you hardly sound interested."

"It's fine…Like you said, I am staying at your place, so if I help you with this, it's like I'm paying you back."

Faye glares at me. "I don't know whether to be frustrated by that or not."

"Can you choose not to?"

A bit of a laugh escapes her. "Listen," Faye says, "let's just get this over with and we'll go have something good to eat later."

"Not ramen, right?"

She smiles, "Alright, no ramen."

We give a few steps in silence before Faye speaks again. She says, "About Bunny, she's pretty easy to spot…but if you have to look for something, it's a lotus tattoo on her lower back."

I take a second to respond. "Isn't that a typical tramp stamp."

"Well, yeah…" Faye glances at me, observing for a bit before she continues. "But she changes her hair all the time and she likes to use contacts. So what I mean is, that tattoo is the easiest way to find her. Besides, she has dark skin and the lotus is drawn with white ink, so, from afar, it looks like a rabbit tail."

"Ah, so that's where the name comes from."

Faye goes on to tell me that Bunny is wanted for arson. She likes to see things on fire—buildings, cars, people. But she sometimes uses bombs, something big enough to damage a car, but not any bigger. And as far as reports go, there is no evidence that suggests Bunny can defend herself any better than a normal woman could.

"But something's not right about that," Faye says. "Once, I tried to get her attention and I swear she nearly clutched my arm like she was going to throw me."

"So…you think she actually has some sort of training?" I ask.

"I'm not sure, but she must at least know basic grappling techniques."

"Anything else?"

"When the girls work, they have retainers assigned to them. Each guy looks after five to seven of the girls, so it's not like they're guarded at all times."

"So…other than your basic 'let's catch her.' You got a plan or something?"

"Or something," she says briefly.

"So…wing it?"

"Yeah. Pretty much."

Faye stops at an intersection and points to her left. "The place she works at is Cherry Pop, just at the end of that block. Bunny already recognizes me, and holds a grudge against me for whatever reason, so—"

"—How well do you actually know her?"

She breathes deeply, "About enough that you could say she hates me."

"I'd like to hear the story behind that."

"She's been Carla's friend for a while. We met a couple of times at Angel's and had a few…disagreements."

"Disagreements, huh?" It takes me second, "…Wait. Carla?"

"The guard who's been helping me keep an eye on Bunny. She's also the one who helped me find work at Marty's."

"So what's the other guard's name?"

"Riley," Faye says. "How come?"

"Just because." Somehow, the fact that they've both managed to remember my name makes me feel obligated to return the gesture…though to be honest, I probably won't remember or care in the next hour.

"Anyway," Faye says, "Bunny is really suspicious of me. Jess let it slip that I was a bounty hunter just before she left this last time. So, I thought I'd never get this chance again."

"What you're saying is—"

"I honestly don't know if it'll be any help to have me around. If you're up for it, handle it however you want. In which case, I don't care if you take whatever's left after Carla gets her cut…But if you want me help, that's fine too."

We stop under the corner light and I think in silence for a good ten minutes, intermittently asking her to clarify something of what I've learned.

"I'll do it alone."

She looks up at me incredulously.

"But later," I tell her, "we better have one hell of a good meal."

* * * Ch. 14 End, Continued in Chapter 15 ** *

Thanks for your patience and support.

Until later,

NonMetallicMetal