| From: | jjmach@**********.com (Jeffrey Mach) |
|---|---|
| Subject: | North Side Story |
| Date: | Wed, 13 Nov 2002 22:43:07 -0800 |
>>>>>[Well diary, I guess after all this time, my programming may just
be starting to break down. How many years has it been since Argent had
all that drilled into my mind? Yet now, I'm acting just plain suicidal.
Suicide? What means would the bold and beauteous Quicksilver choose for
itself? How about bedding a mobster _and_ his daughter?
Okay, sure: Jimmy's a two-bit hood who lays on the Mafiosi veneer so
thick to cover up his New Englander blood. But a bullet from a wannabe
could kill me as dead as the sharpest blade in the Sybarite's kit.
There's only so many ways to try and make sure when he looks into my
eyes, he sees Columbine staring back at him.
I just know some day, some way, I'm going to screw up. Not that being a
moll is that hard of a job. Hell, I am playing the thinnest
characterature I can ever remember and he just laps it up, but the more
he does, the harder he clings tight. Like so many of the rest. There's
only so much I can do before I slip and get found out. Then, it's him
or me. Not that I'm going to just let it be him, but a crap shoot is
all I'll have.
With that on my mind, what do I do? Start taking a liking to Lucia
Maria, "Daddy's little girl." All of "Sweet 16," and she's got twice
the fire in her veins that Jimmy could ever hope to muster. Makes me
wonder, does he keep her out of the biz because he wants to protect his
baby, or because he's afraid one day she'll take over, and leave him out
in the Vermont snow? She stays away from the club, but when Jimmy wants
to take me back to the house, he hardly makes me a secret. Poor kid has
probably seen more than her fair share of this since "Mom" was paid
enough to run off to God-knows-where.
Today, I'm waiting to surprise Jimmy at home, since it's my day off. So
I'm in the bushes and he calls up to tell me that he's going to be out
of town on business. Fragged the whole damn evening, I'm thinking.
Still trying to figure out what to do with myself if I really am going
take the night off, when look who slips out, but the Princess Calfo.
I've got nothing better to do. Chase ensues. Insert fadeout.
She's got a lot to learn if she wants to lose someone who isn't a
Neanderthal like Jimmy's goons. Meanwhile, I decide to try on a skin
for her to see how it fits. Must say, the she has decent taste. Seems
the princess wants a little fun while daddy's away and hits what passes
for this WASP-ville's club district. Guess they know her money's good,
because they don't even try to card her at the door of "Tommy
Terrific's." A few seconds with my card generator to make a roughly
passable one for the doorman and a credstick with enough on it to get me
and the next dozen people through slipped into his palm, and I'm Tommy's
long lost cousin for all he cares.
Lucia's made a beeline for the dance floor. Her girlfriends made it
here earlier, and they're already grinding the night away with the
latest catch of sweetmeats. I sit the first couple songs out to get a
Coke and survey the scene. The boys, rank--bloody--amateurs. The girls
are a different story. They want their fun and know how to work the
guys well enough to make me proud of their enthusiasm, if anything.
Definite pecking order, though, and guess who is alpha of the pack? The
others must have at least a couple years on her, but Little Miss Calfo
is cutting in and cutting out of the herd the ones she wants to feel out
/ feel up / whatever.
You want to see a professional at work, little girl? I down the last
gulp and toss back a 100% tip to the bartender who gives me a wink.
Cranking up that old black magic to 11, I don't so much move through the
crowded dance floor as let it flow around me until I reach the edge of
the Junior Miss femme fatale hunting party. Call me dramatic, but I
work my way around until I've been spotted by most of her friends and
start to swirl them up around me fast enough to make the Pied Piper
blush. A flash of smile that reaches the eyes and comes from the heart,
an inviting-approving glance, an "inadvertent" touch here, a less veiled
caress there, and all their temperatures are starting to rise.
Schoolgirls. So easy.
My temperature is rising as well. All the better to lace the air with
pheromones that roll out across the dance floor. Bodies start to move
closer together. Do I risk it?
I reach out with a feather touch of boredom and curiosity and brush her
heart. Sure, you've got the best of the early catch on the hook, but
really, aren't you tired of him already? Where have your friends gone?
She turns. Another flash of curiosity, this time all on her own. What
are they all circling, better yet who? A pang of jealousy. Key in on
that. Amp it, ever so gently. Maneuver. The motions cause two of them
to part. She sees me. I can feel her before I can see her. Just like
a little rich girl looking into the window of FAO Schwartz. I wait for
it to build. That's when I hit her with the million newyen look. The
"I've never seen anyone so beautiful in my entire life" stare that turns
your average girl's knees to jelly. Lucia? It's like she's expecting
it. Damn. Going to have to play harder to get.
I think two of the girls caught "the look" but since it wasn't aimed at
them, they're feeling the opposite effect. Have to reassure them
without loosing a beat and make them feel they are still in the running.
Pretty soon, they're back in the game, one playfully rubbing her
backside into me. Yeah, this is working better, because the first catch
has been tossed back into the water and Miss Calfo is breaking into the
circle.
They move like they're used to her asserting her dominance over them.
The pack breaks up to give their leader a chance at the prime kill.
Sure...be upset, slink away to snag the left-overs. The more a show you
make of it, the more Lucia practically glows. Two are on the poor
fellow she just dumped before he has a chance to know he's missing
something.
Can't let her think she's won just yet. Let it play out over the course
of the next song. My turn: So, you're the one dancing with me now?
Can you keep up? Okay, I'm interested, will you show me more? What if
I touch you? Do you like it when I do this?
Now, she's going to play hard to get, but I see through her as though
I'm dancing with a hologram. Her turn: I can do better than you, boy,
can't I? (You're so beautiful.) Should I look for someone else?
(Please, please chase me.) Oh, so you're following me? (He's still
with me? Oh, thank you God.)
Time to snap the line. One more playful spin that puts her closer to
another boy that has been watching us like a hungry coyote, and I let my
smile falter in a classic "Don't go, please?" She knows she's got me,
which means I've got her. The set rolls on, but by now she has to take
a breather. I follow, and offer to buy her a drink. She wants a
margarita. I buy us both sangria. I get the impression she's equates
partying with getting wasted, but where's the fun in that?
She calls herself "Maria" over the top of her glass, eyes sparkling at
me. Maybe she's watched an old vid of _West Side Story_? I introduce
myself as Tony. She doesn't get it, but oh well, I move on, laugh, and
tell her my name is really Quentin, but I hate that name. She laughs,
smiles, grabs my hand and pulls me up with her, "I so love this song,
Tony. Let's dance."
We're back on the floor, the music is thumping, and that one boy's
gotten tired of the bait and switch. He tries to cut in, and she cuts
him out. He tries to stare me down. Right. The smile I use this time
would be more normal in the wild, where teeth _aren't_ a sign of
friendship. He has a second's hesitation. "Maybe this guy's a bit more
dangerous than I thought" crosses his face, and I play on that. Another
push in the right direction. Another "shove-off" stare by Maria and he
takes off with his tail between his legs.
The night just gets more interesting. I can throttle-back on my output
and focus in on her. Reel her in. She's loving the attention, and I
can't say as I'm having a bad time either. We dance, we sit out and
talk--music mostly--she thinks I'm in the business. She finds me
interesting enough to not want to be drunk out of her skull, which is
good all around. I keep the laughter going, but have to wonder how many
guys she's let take advantage of her.
Finally, it's late, Maria's barely on her feet having ditched the heels
an hour ago. I tell her I can't go on, but I'm willing to get her home.
She offers to go to my place, and it takes a lot for me to delicately
decline.
"What kind of a guy would I be to take advantage of such a beautiful
young woman on the very first night I meet her?" I ask.
"A smart one." A classic reply, but her eyelids are starting to droop,
and I walk her outside to a cab I've called. I tell her I'd like to see
her again some time, which seems to wake her up a good deal.
That's when lover-boy decides to make a dramatic entrance with a couple
friends. I almost wish I could have paid them to set this up, but oh
well. He pokes me in the quintessential High School bully style.
Ho-hum. His buddies lay a hand on me as he tries to pick up on Maria
one last time.
It is a beautiful thing. Her knee driving his nut sack somewhere up
around his throat. Taking that as my queue, I pull a capioerista move
that I learned in the bad old days, sweeping both bad-boys onto their
tushes. By the time I am making sure they feel they've bitten off a lot
more than they should care to chew, I hear a switchblade *snap*. I'm
ready to dive out of lover-boy's range when I realize he's the one who's
begging and backing up and the Little Miss is holding the blade like
she's used it before. He's being offered the opportunity to change
genders, which results in him running and his buddies quick to follow.
Maria's running on pure adrenaline, now. A little wild eyed, I start
calming her down and get the blade out of her hand, closed, and slipped
into my pocket before one of the club's resident big lugs has made his
way over to us to see what was the matter. He's not hard to get rid of,
and soon enough the cab is pulling up. I help her in, and get in the
other side.
"So," I ask, stroking her arm and hopefully not pissing off the waiting
cabbie, "where are you staying tonight?"
"Wherever you are." Sweet girl. I think I'll take her home with me.
Which I did, well, to the hotel, anyway. I got her home late...the next
morning, which I suspect is not that uncommon while Papa's out of town.
She definitely wants to see me again, but that's going to be a challenge
once Jimmy's back around.
Like I said. Suicidal.]<<<<<
-- Quicksilver <22:42:10/11-13-63 PST>
