FF hates me. You know this, I know this, Carlisle Cyllen and his bottle of whiskey knows this… Here you are, Chapter 17, or Chapter 18 if you count the Prologue. *sticks tongue out at FF and their meddling ways*
Chapter 17
"Carlisle. Carlisle!"
The former treasurer's assistant answered the door drunkenly, half aware of the male voice in the hallway piercing his brain like a permanent tattoo.
He pressed his cigarette against the wall, ceasing the lit cherry. "Whaddya want?"
"Fucking hell, C. Lay off the whiskey for one damn hour, will you?" the man muttered sarcastically. Here he was, taking valuable moments out of his day to help a friend, only to deal with a drunk.
He didn't have time for this shit.
"Carlisle? You got three seconds to sober the fuck up, or else I'm dragging your sorry ass to the nearest station. One…Two…"
As if the alcohol had never filtered his system, Carlisle looked at the tall, thin figure and wiped his mouth of the remaining liquid. "What is it?"
The man, tailored in a pin-striped suit, brushed past him, peering at the disgusting circumstances his old comrade had been subjected to. Carlisle didn't look any better, a full grown beard covering his once handsome face, and clad only in boxers and a dirty t-shirt.
"That's what I thought. You want in or out?"
It was too early for Carlisle to decipher any type of puzzles or make sense of any riddles. He shut the door behind them, and plopped onto the couch. "In or out?"
"In. Or. Out?" the man repeated. "That's all I'm giving you until you say yes. But to help you make a decision, let's just say, that within a month, your ass can buy all the fucking alcohol you could ever dream of."
In or Out.
Jack Daniels.
In or Out.
Johnny Walker.
"In," Carlisle resigned. He was no fool. The roof of his mouth salivated at the thirst of an abundance of his favourite drinks.
"My boy!" he said with a laugh, pounding Carlisle on the back. The lash caused Carlisle to cough, for he was not used to such harsh physical contact. The man rolled his eyes, but fretted not, because Carlisle Cyllen was well on his way to a new, and better life.
"So…how are we getting any money?" Carlisle asked, now intrigued by the new proposition. He was getting excited, his sleeplessness and troubles melting away by the second.
"Not so fast, Carlisle. One step at a time. But here's the plan…."
Carlisle listened hard, and intently. Each sentence, every idea, had Carlisle smiling like he hadn't in years. His expression changed, the light in his eyes brightening. Hope which had drained from him years ago, filled him like no alcohol ever could.
"And this will work?" Carlisle questioned. "I get to settle the score and a big payday?"
His friend chuckled, a sly grin plastered on his face. "Have I ever steered you wrong?"
Carlisle did his best not to punch the fabric of the innocent sofa.
"Ok, sure, but there was nothing I could do about that. You got busted red-handed. But this…this will work. You must have not met her yet."
Carlisle frowned, attempting to muster up an old memory. "I remember her, but she was a child back then…"
"Well, she's all grown up and a feisty one, I might add. By the time we are through, the De Lucas will be history and you will own the toilet Stephen shits in. You have my word."
He was an arrogant, conniving son of a bitch, but useful and always had his back. Just the thought of bringing the De Luca family down had his hands tingling, and it wasn't from the whiskey.
Carlisle walked to the door, and shook his friends hand. Tomorrow their plan would begin full-force, but today, today Carlisle would celebrate.
"Wait," Carlisle paused, frowning at the sudden thought that crossed his mind. "What's in it for you?"
"I get twenty-five percent, C. But you won't even miss it. Just focus on the treasure at the end of the fucking rainbow. Be there nine a.m., sharp. That means not drunk," the older man warned.
"I hear ya, Brandon," Carlisle muttered, opening the door.
"Oh, we go by last names now?" Aro laughed again, slugging Carlisle once more. "Just don't call my daughter that. She'd twist your balls before you could blink."
"Alicia, I got it."
"Right. Or by her nickname. Kids and their damn imagination."
Carlisle understood, missing his favorite son, Mason, or Mace. He winced at the memory of his boy fighting a war for the country who betrayed him, and settled on better thoughts.
"Nine a.m. At the old warehouse near the train station."
"See? I knew you'd figure it out!" Aro chuckled at his friend's expense.
"Dumbass," Carlisle grumbled, and shut the door in his face.
But inside, he was smiling with delight.
One month, and his life would change.
One month.
Carlisle just prayed the little girl who once ran around in pigtails could pull off this sophisticated scheme.
Carlisle Cyllen's future of revenge and fortune now lied in the hands of Alicia "Alice" Brandon.
A/N: Say whatttt? I'm twisting your asses around like a roller coaster. In or Out, readers? In. Or. Out?