Milston Entertainment Stocks Skyrocket
June 5th, Stacy Burns, BBA
Leaving Ackerman Enterprises hasn't stopped Walter Milston from thriving in the business world. In fact, things are only going up! The rise in Milston Entertainment stocks has been attributed to the rerelease of nostalgic classic films.
With watery eyes, Milston tells Marley Today, "I remember The Rose and the Thorn from my childhood. It is delightfully heartfelt and humorous." The Rose and the Thorn will be at The Marley Theater this summer, accompanied by live music—you won't want to miss this!
She shouldn't be surprised.
Karma's stubby fingers drummed on the sticky countertop. No bedazzled nail extensions or opal rings. No laser-smoothed skin. Just calluses and cheap pink polish. A nameless, nobody refugee would never belong in New Marley, and she had no desire to cram herself into a jewelry-box-shaped mold. No wonder the phone never rang.
Levi Ackerman certainly didn't want her—not that that bothered her. She never expected to get the caretaker job, though a courtesy rejection call would be appreciated.
It was the MSA that irked her. Granny Angie's passing was the sign Karma needed to call the Moriano School of Arts and request an audition. Nothing. No voicemail, no letter, no courtesy rejection call. Could no amount of talent grant her a spot? If that was the case, why had she waited those four years? Was she that terrified of facing the reality of her Old Marley, refugee status? Wickham Moriano overcame his, so why couldn't she?
No amount of heavy sighing or anxious glances at the receiver would make the phone magically start ringing. She needed to get back to work.
Vinny's reeked of yeast and cigarette stained leather. The green stools and waist-high tables and booths were packed and louder than the honking beaters outside. Dim lights flickered, glinting off shelves of brown and green bottles.
It wasn't the worst job in the world, and wearing stage makeup and dressing like a lingerie model made the money easy. But it was a dead-end job, meant to be temporary, but the phone's silence forecasted the dreaded cloud of permanence.
Sage's black fingernails suddenly touched her bare shoulder. Karma perked up out of her thoughts and turned to the man Sage was talking to.
"This is my friend, Karma." Right. A hand on the shoulder was the silent distress signal for whenever one of them was getting hit on. Sage flashed Karma wide, pleading eyes as she said, "Do you mind keeping this gentleman company for a minute? I gotta run to the lady's room."
"Sure," Karma said with a plastic smile.
The flirting man in question dropped onto the stool across the counter. For a bar crawler, he didn't smell. He wore a camo jacket over a stain-free white tee slung with a dog tag.
"Sunglasses indoors?" Karma said, raising a brow.
"Yep." The man rubbed his hand around his buzzed head. He had a young-sounding voice, mid-twenties if she had to peg him.
"What are you drinking tonight?" Karma passed him a coaster and napkin.
"Whiskey. Neat." A manly drink for a boyish man.
"Coming right up—uh?"
"Jack."
"Jack." Karma pulled a decanter from under the counter and poured him a glass. She placed it on his coaster. "This is your first time here, isn't it?"
"It looked like a cool bar."
"I mean in Old Marley."
Jack's shoulders stiffened beneath the camo like she was close to breaching a secret. "How'd you know that?"
"You're wearing Slay Bans."
"Dammit. Shit." Jack rubbed his buzzed head again. "Well I can't exactly take them off."
"Don't worry. We don't push outsiders into fountains." Karma weaved a rag around his untouched glass and scooped pretzel crumbs into her palm. "I am curious why you're here though."
"New Marley's a circus. That's why. Can't get any privacy."
"I'm not so fond of New Marley myself. Hence the fountain comment."
"Can't say I've ever been pushed in a fountain. Surprising, considering where I'm from." Jack jackhammered his fingernail against the countertop. His nervous energy made Karma antsy.
"Where's that?" she said.
"Well…I'm not exactly New Marleyan or Old Marleyan."
"You a refugee too?"
"Island devil in the flesh. What about you?"
"East Marley. Destroyed in The Rumbling."
"That sucks."
"No offense, but New Marley isn't keen on the 'island devils.' How'd you wind up there?"
"War vet perks."
"Ah." The camo and dog tag finally made sense. The sunglasses didn't, unless he injured his eyes in the war? Maybe he was disfigured like Levi. Did he know Levi? Karma was tempted, but decided not to pry. "Well I don't have war vet perks, and, frankly, New Marley doesn't seem to want me."
"Yeah?"
"You know Wickham Moriano, right?"
"Who?"
"Nevermind. I'm trying to get an audition at his school, the MSA, and it's turned into a giant waiting game."
"I'll trade you. You take my place in New Marley and I take your place here. How's that sound?"
"Deal." Karma smiled and extended her hand for a joking hand shake, but her hand froze halfway when the phone rang. She stared at it like it was a time bomb.
"Uh, you gonna answer that?" Jack said, a dark eyebrow arching over the Slay Bans frames.
Another ring trembled the bones in her ear like a dog whistle before she snatched the phone and pressed it to her cheek. "Vinny's this is Karma?" Please be a delivery order. Or a customer complaint. Anything but that courtesy rejection call from the MSA—
"Miss Tojo." A cold greeting from an equally cold voice. Karma straightened.
"Yelena—?"
"I called to see when you can start."
She must have cotton in her ears. Or maybe the bar is too noisy. Karma plugged her left ear and hugged the phone closer to her right. "I'm sorry?"
"I understand you may have arrangements at the bar, so we can grant a grace period to sort your schedule, but Mr. Ackerman would prefer you start immediately."
"Start…the caretaker job?"
"Were you expecting another job offer?"
"No, no. I, uh, just don't understand."
From across the room, Sage snatched Karma's eyes and gave her a curious look, mouthing, "Who is it?" Karma pretended not to see and dropped her gaze to the small puddle of whiskey on the counter top, lowering her voice.
"I got the job?"
"I don't know how much clearer I can be, Miss Tojo."
She remembered the autograph: To the friend of the unorthodox caretaker, Levi Ackerman. It had seemed snarky at the time. Was it meant to be teasing? Playful? Had she actually made a good impression?
Yelena continued, "Can you start this week?"
"I—"
If Sage could hear this conversation she would be flailing her arms and screaming at Karma to come to her senses and say yes. "Why are you hesitating? Levi freaking Ackerman wants you!" she'd say. "This is your chance to leave this dump!"
As if she could sense Karma's distress, Sage was hurrying toward her from across the room. She ducked around a tray of jiggling, foam-topped beer mugs and swerved around a mop. If Karma didn't hurry, Sage would make the decision for her. Karma looked at Jack with pleading eyes the size of coasters. No help there; his sunglasses hid his expression. The answer was so obvious. She was just saying how desperate she was to get to New Marey and yet—
"I'm sorry, but I won't be starting anytime."
"As I said, we can grant a grace period—"
"That won't be necessary. I'm not interested in the job." Karma hesitated to say more then clicked the phone back on the receiver. Her heart plunked into her stomach like she'd nearly dropped a baby, and her hand clutched her throat as though prying open her airway. She scanned the bar for Sage and found her weaving around the pool table. Karma relaxed a little. No way Sage could have overheard.
"Damn." Jack sounded impressed. "Levi Ackerman offered you a job and you shot him down. That's cold, even for a Marleyan."
Karma straightened, squinting. "How did you know that was Mr. Ackerman?"
"You said 'Yelena.' I sort of know her. And him," Jack said. He bitterly grumbled something into his drink that Karma didn't quite catch.
"Oh, god…" She slumped over the counter. Her scanty black tank top soaked up the whiskey puddle. "Did I just blow everything? Should I call back and apologize?"
"Hell no. Don't get involved. Those guys never let you live anything down." Jack downed his whiskey and wiped his mouth with his camo sleeve. "Stick to your guns."
Sage was a waist-high table away. Jack caught a whiff of her perfume and slammed some bills on the counter. "That's my cue. Do I look okay? Your friend doesn't mind being the tall one right—?"
"Hang on." Karma grabbed his sleeve and looked at him sternly. "Don't breathe a word of this to her. She'll literally kill me if she finds out I turned down that job."
"Well, my tongue has been known to slip. Maybe if you give me her address—"
"Home phone."
"Deal."
Karma scribbled the numbers on a napkin and slammed it into his palm. "Not a word. Promise?" He looked at the crumpled napkin like it was bedazzled with gemstones.
"Promise."
Bastard didn't keep his promise.
A flutter of false lashes and he caved like a sandcastle. Once she got the incriminating info, Sage could hardly contain herself during their shift. The instant the front door to their shanty apartment closed with a creak of the rusty bolt, her bottled up words spewed at Karma like lava.
"You turned down the job?!"
"Sage—"
"Did Greg from the kitchens feed you shrooms?! You would be tripling your salary and getting all sorts of connections! Mr. Ackerman—of freaking Ackerman Enterprises—specifically requested you for some reason. I don't give a rat's ass if you don't want to be a caretaker anymore, you take the job!"
"Dammit, Sage. Can't I just make my own decisions?"
"I'd let you if you didn't suck so bad at making them. Call Yelena back and apologize. Right now."
"It's 1am. And I've got a job already. I'll be fine. Just worry about yourself."
"I'm trying to, but you're ruining all of my chances! If I were manager, I'd fire you right now."
"God, Sage, you greedy little—" Karma tightened her fists, strangling her anger. She thudded on the crappy sofa, glad her mini tantrum didn't wake Jean, who was curled on the adjacent cushion. "That won't be your only chance, I promise. And I got you the autograph. I thought that was all you wanted?"
"Ugh—stop being reasonable, it's annoying." Sage twirled the jewel pierced to her nose and inhaled. "Fine. You're right. I only told you to get the autograph." She raspberried her lips. "I think we could both use a little wine."
Behind a bag of stale crackers where clumps of dust bunnies roamed, Sage retrieved the dusty wine bottle and poured two glasses.
"That Jack guy was persistent"—Sage passed Karma a glass—"but he proved useful after a dash of flirting."
"I should've known he wouldn't keep his mouth shut. You're too gorgeous."
"So are you. It's no wonder Mr. Ackerman wants you so bad."
"He doesn't 'want me so bad.' He probably had a real crappy batch of applicants. Or he felt bad for me."
"I dunno. That autograph was pretty flirty."
Karma ducked behind a sip of wine. "He called me 'unorthodox.'"
"Karms, you're blushing—oh my god, he's hot isn't he?"
"Okay yeah, he's pretty handsome."
"Like Wickham Moriano handsome?"
"He's up there."
"But doesn't he have a lot of scars? Adalia May says he's 'frightening.'"
"He has one through his eye." Karma carved a slash down her face to mimic the mark.
"Gross. Sounds creepy."
"It's kinda badass."
"What about his house? You were too worked up when you got back from New Marley to spill any deets and I've been dying."
"Well I took a spill myself. I'm glad you actually remembered to bring me a change of clothes."
"So little faith." Sage tossed her hair like a New Marleyan. "What was his bathroom like? I'm picturing gold everything. Ooo, does he have a butler?!"
"More like white marble everything, but I wasn't about to leave a turd in Levi Ackerman's bathroom—"
"I bet he's got automatic soap dispensers and complimentary mints."
"—and I don't think Yelena's a butler. She's probably his wife or secretary or something. Oh, but he has the most beautiful piano. Like, a concert grand."
Sage gaped. "You love that kind of crap."
"I know."
"You could be practicing music on your dream piano. Not to mention you are clearly crushing on this man. You sure you weren't on those shrooms? Do I need to get a urine sample?"
Karma's head flopped back. "The more I think about it, the dumber I feel. And not to sound ungrateful or anything, but the bar is kinda sucky."
"Good. I'm glad you've come to your senses. Just call Yelena tomorrow and apologize. Easy as that."
"We'll see." Karma swirled her glass, wafting notes of fruit. "I'm still waiting for the MSA to call me back."
"Karms, you're Old Marley scum. They're never gonna call back. You'll just have to pester them until they cave, but screw them. That Old-timey Marley Music School—"
"Old Marley School of Arts."
"—will take you."
"Well, duh, the OMSA's desperate. Their program's ass."
"So what? You could get a full ride there. Easy. I bet Wickham Moriano himself would sign the check." Sage's bracelets chimed as she tipped her glass. "You're just scared to put yourself out there."
"No, I put myself out there. I called them."
"During business hours?"
"Well, no—"
"Mhmm, that's what I thought. You wanted to leave a voicemail. See, you're too scared to actually face anyone. Me and Granny Angie are the only ones who've ever heard you play."
"And Jean."
"Right." Sage's glass clinked on the coffee table. "All I'm saying is this is your chance to start your life. I don't care if you decide to do Wickham Moriano School or Old Marley Music School or caretaking or what, but you have to call someone tomorrow—beg and plead and be assertive and get the hell out of Vinny's."
"Won't you miss me at the bar?"
"Want me to answer that honestly?"
Connie Springer or False Alarm?
June 6th, Adalia May
Photographers caught a young man with a buzz cut and sunglasses tram-hopping around Old Marley. Could this be war hero Connie Springer galavanting incognito? Just what has he been up to? Take a look and decide for yourself…