Husky beamed as The Kid praised his bar. He had put in a lot of effort to make sure it was successful. So it was always good to hear that his efforts had paid off. If he had not been so hasty , perhaps he could have convinced LuckyLucy to make an appearence. His thoughts often wandered to their dance and he found himself reading her letter on many a lonely night. If there was a way to salvage the situation he would have to find it soon or risk losing her forever. 

Turning back to The Kid he said, "I am actually thinking of adding a piano and a small jazz band at my next spot. Perhaps you could make an appearence or two? Ah who am I kidding. I can not wait that long. It's been ages since I heard someone play some good piano. You must play some Chopin for me this weekend. I insist!"

"Ma'am if you'll just give me a moment..."  The man behind the front counter tried to soothe Lucy's temper but she was having none of it.  Her last white shirt was stained horribly and she HAD to make her flight home to Vegas.

"Look, I'll pay extra just... you have-ta ... oh! for the love of pete!"  Lucy raised her voice loud enough it could be heard back in the 'Rebel's Retreat' proper.  She held her shirt in a white knuckled grip and shook it furiously in the goon behind the counter's face.  "Are you new here?  Do you HAVE a brain in that skull of yours?!?  Look... look, just let me talk to a manager for pity sake!  I need to get this stain out and I need it done fast - I have to get back to Vegas.  I seriously don't have time for this nonsense!"

"As I said Ma'am..."

Lucy pulled a wallet from her back pocket and lowered her voice, trying to appeal to the man's better nature.  "What'll it take?  My uncle Benjamin?"  Lucy was running out of patience and if getting her shirt cleaned in the next twenty minutes took $100, so be it!

A guard walked upto Husky and whispered "Boss there's some trouble up top someone demands to see the manager." 
Sighing to himself he turned to The_Kid and said, "I am afraid I have some business to attend to. But please stay, enjoy, play some pool. I Look forward to seeing you on the weekend, but for now I must take my leave. " Tipping his hat to him he turned around.

"If it's a raid and Billy hasn't pressed the alarm I am going to kill him myself." he said to the guard , with a seriousness that was out of character for him. "This is exactly the reason we have scouts on the street. So that shit like this doesn't happen. I'll take care of this, but make sure you have a word with all our eyes outside and remind them just what is it they are getting paid for capice?" he continued as he walked out of the speakeasy and up the stairs he tried to calm himself . Taking a moment to pause and straighten his tie, he opened the door and walked out of the false back of the closet. Closing it behind him he walked along the machines to the front of the shop. He could hear a woman yelling about a woman wanting her dressed clean. 

Shaking his head at the trivial nature of the emergency he walked through the curtain and towards the counter. The first thing he saw was Billy with his hand on the trigger of the rifle hidden under the counter sweating profusely. The second thing he saw was a woman holding a Benjamin in one hand and a stained shirt in the other demanding that it be cleaned as soon as possible. When he saw her face he froze for it held the same green eyes that haunted his dreams. This serendipitous encounter seemed too good to be true. For Lucy to show up here accidentally was a pleasant surprise. One that took him a moment to recover from.

Shaking his hand he said with the hint of a grin "Easy on the trigger kid, get that shirt back to one of the workers and come right back here. Next time you better not be so itchy to blast a customer off."
He turned towards her and said with a half smile, "Of all the laundromats in all the towns in all the world, she walks in to mine." Feeling himself getting lost in her gaze he continued, "Billy will get your shirt cleaned as soon as he can. I'm afraid I can't except your money. But perhaps I can interest you in a drink or two while we wait Miss Fazzone and you can tell me all about the nature of your business in Detroit?"

Husky, who has been around the block a few times, will notice a few things as he takes the shirt from Lucy.  The first is that Lucy's white shirt isn't stained with pasta sauce or wine, it's blood - and a good deal of it.  He might also notice now that under her usual suit jacket, she's wearing a man's button down shirt.  Lastly, her hands have been washed, but blood is a bitch to get out completely when you're on the run.  The tell-tale pink isn't fooling anyone who knows what they're looking at.  She's been up to her elbows in someone's insides. 

His next thoughts might be about her well-being. Though her color is good and she seems to be moving alright, her smile is tight and her gaze is a bit glassy - why that is, might fall within a wide range of things... shock being lead among them.  "I'm sorry for being a bit of a pill to your boy Husky..."  All the desperation and rage in her voice gives way to weariness.  Her shoulders sink a bit as she takes a step back from him and the counter he's standing at.

"I'll take you up on that drink, but first,"  She says, glancing back over her shoulder.  "Just ... give me a moment."

She walks back to the door and out to a 1931 Duesenberg Model J Tourster parked at the curb.  In the driver's seat Yamir can be seen.  Outside the car on the passenger's side, with his hand in his coat, stands an unusually large goon that Husky won't immediately recognize.  He, however, comes quickly to meet Lucy.

"Boss?"

"A friend of mine owns this joint."  She nods back towards the place she already assumes Husky is standing.  "I'm gonna snag some hooch, clean up, and try to relax before we have to get on the plane.  You and Yamir take the car and park it a few blocks from here.  Head back on foot and keep a low profile.  We'll be here for about a half-hour or so."

"I should stay, Yamir can take the ca-"

The tiny woman stepped close to the giant of a man who called her boss only a moment ago.  He withers under her gaze to the point that he seems barely larger than her at all.  

"I'll keep Yamir safe."

"I know you will."  She says softly, reaching her hand up she pats his cheek like she's giving praise to a small child and then she turns back to Husky.

"Now..."  She says, making her way quickly back into the building, making certain to keep her eyes pealed until they are both well inside and away from the windows, "... what the hell are you doing in the laundry business?"

The moment Husky saw her, he knew she had been to some mischief. The salmon hue on her hands was covered by an ill-fitting shirt, an obvious replacement for the one she had handed over. The one with crimson stains. But the greatest tell of all was the way she fidgeted expecting a retaliation. Giving her asylum now could mean trouble for him depending on just how mischievous she had been. The place had become rather monotonous and the prospect of adding a little intrigue made his mouth water.

He knew the blood would not come off easy, it rarely ever did. Sure enough Billy came back to tell him it will take a while. 
"Send one of the boys to warn the paperboys and the flower girls to look out for any signs of trouble. Then come back and sit tight. Be a little more gunshy this time and the minute someone comes looking for a woman covered in blood you press the buzzer you hear me?" he told Billy while grabbing a pair of black satin gloves from a nearby closet. As Billy dispatched one of the guards, Husky handed the gloves to Lucy and said, "Oh there are just so many ways it comes in handy. Considering your present predicament, I'm sure you'd agree. Don't worry, I have enough scouts watching this street that a cat could not get a flea without one of them noticing."

He stepped away from the counter and stood next to the counter wondering if she thought why he needed so many scouts for a laundromat. Gesturing to a closet he said, "If you'll follow me, we'll get you away from the windows for a while." As she stepped through he inhaled the scent of her perfume mixed with the faint smell of blood. This was an interesting woman indeed. Opening the closet door he fiddled with the false back before sliding it aside to reveal the stairs that led downstairs. As she walked in he closed off the passage behind them and motioned for her to move forward. "I assure you Miss Fazzone, it gets less and less dingy the further you go."

As they reached the bottom of the stairs and moved along the narrow corridor rubbing elbows he realized this was their first interaction since the letter. They reached a door at the end. The wall on the side adorned a simple sign in red neon- The Rebel's Retreat. Waiting with his hand on the doorknob he turned to look at her and saw her anxiously looking around searching for traps. He knew she trusted him enough to help her out of a sticky situation but not enough to not lay an ambush. Sighing to himself he opened the door for her and said, "I must warn you, the crowd here is a little less than reputable, but considering your recent escapades I hope that won't be a problem. " Looking up at her with a sly grin he said, "If I'd known all it would take for you to visit my humble haunt, I would have had people walk around with buckets of paint every time you were in the city. " As a dim red light hit the side of his face he said, "Excuse the crimson hues. They help hide evidence of any mischief." 

Looking at her face he saw her green eyes contrast against the red hue bathing her cheek. Staring into her eyes , so full of promise, full of purpose, full of poison, he offered his arm for her to wrap hers around. With a charming smile on his face, waiting for her to decide he enquired "Shall we Miss Fazzone?"

"Thank you."  Lucy murmured as she took the gloves and slid her hands into them one at time.  This act of dexterity revealed the slight tremble she still hadn't gotten under control.  

To his commentary about his eyes and ears on the street, Lucy merely nodded.  She seemed to accept that he had the ability to watch her back, but silently she wondered what it might cost her in the end.

Descending into what was probably some manner of speak-easy, popular since prohibition began here in the east and midwest, she couldn't help but keep her eyes open for any unexpected dangers.  Today had been a day full surprises, one more at this point wouldn't be uncharacteristic of this sort of a day.

Rebel's Retreat.  The sign hummed and cast red over everything.  Considering all the rogues lately, and the 'noble' ideals of revolution in the families, the name was a dangerous one.  

Sighing Husky opened the door for her and said, "I must warn you, the crowd here is a little less than reputable, but considering your recent escapades I hope that won't be a problem. " 

Is Husky mixed up in something more dangerous than even what I've been doing today?  

With a sly grin he said, "If I'd known all it would take for you to visit my humble haunt, I would have had people walk around with buckets of paint every time you were in the city. "

Surely not!  Husky seemed to have good sense and seemed to value greenbacks over crazy ideals... or, at least she thought so.

"Excuse the crimson hues. They help hide evidence of any mischief." He said.

The sound of someone playing 'Stardust' could be hear faintly through the doorway.  As the red light engulfed her face, she turned to look at Husky.  He was offering his arm to her.  She welcomed the chance to be steadied, to conceal how shaken she still was as the memories of what just happened kept flashing behind her eyes every time she blinked.  

She unfolded her gloved hand and eased her hand towards him.

And yet, taking his arm would mean putting her body, albiet through a glove and sleeve, in contact with his.  After the letter situation of last week, she had fully intended on never seeing Husky again, let alone touching him.  

She paused, holding her hand just shy of his arm, as if he were a snake she might be bitten by.  'Stardust' ended, she glanced into the room, wondering what song might play next.  She couldn't help but smile as she heard 'Ain't Misbehavin'

"Mama," she started to speak, still looking into the room.  "Said you should always listen to the universe when it's tryin' to tell ya somethin'."

She looked back to Husky, this time, her gaze far more demure. The tips of her leather covered fingers languished for far longer than was necessary on the underside of his arm.  Her pinky moving ever so slight, caressing the place where her hand had come to rest, once, twice, and a third time before beginning to ease itself around the fullness of his forearm - as if she might be memorizing the contours of his arm.  Her leather clad digits slick and cool against his exposed flesh just beneath where his sleeves had been rolled up to, squeezed ever so slightly - a mini embrace, as they came to their resting place.

"Let's take it slow."  She breathed the words which could have been referring to how they should enter the room, or perhaps to something else.  Whichever, she gave no further explanation, simply prepared herself for where ever her host was going to lead her.

Husky could feel the gears grinding in her head as she hesitated before taking his arm. Perhaps she was deciding whether it was too late to just turn around and leave. He saw her eyes flicker with a hint of doubt. After the letter last week, he could not blame her. As the crease from her brow finally disappeared, she relented and wrapped her arm around his.

"Your Mama sounds like a wise woman. Perhaps you should heed her advice." he said wryly. As they stepped in he paused to look around. It had taken a lot of effort to get this place up and running, and then keep it that way while other joints in the city withered away. Every time he walked in, his face visibly beamed with pride. While Louis Armstrong crooned away on the radio he slowly walked with her t the bar. The place was packed tonight. People were lining up for a shot at pool, the poker tables were filled up, The Tavern was bustling with gamblers and people seeking a loan. A few local mobsters were having a heated argument in the corner.

Nodding to a few of the mafiosos he walked to the bar and held two of his fingers up. The barman quickly brought him two Fort Waynes. Husky lifted his own and turned around to face the rest of the room. Handing one to Lucy he said, "I recall you're not much of a drinker Miss Fazzone, but I do believe someone who has had such an interesting day certainly deserves one." He did not ask about why she was covered in blood and hiding like a fugitive or if she had missed him since the last time they met. He did not ask who she was running from or if she still thought about the way they had danced together. His face was a mask of charm, but his eyes betrayed all the questions he held. 

As he saw her turn her head and take in the whole room again he said, "I know it is not the Brennan Cellar's. But few joints could be without a hostess such as yourself."

At the mention of home, her expression darkens a bit.  She looks to the clock on the wall, as if counting the moments until she must leave to catch her flight.  "You're shameless."  She whispers, giving him a side glance and the barest hint of a smile.

Lucy accepts her drink with a nod to the bartender.  "I lost one of my people today."  She says softly, mostly into her glass as she sips, but still loud enough for someone beside her to hear.  "Made some new connections with the local families.  Snagged some amazing art.  Still..." She gulps the drink down, "... the losses were high too."  she exhales and clears her throat.

"My mother was a good woman, maybe not wise, but good."  She raises her glass.  "May God have mercy on her soul."  She drinks again.

"What about you... got family?"

"Not anymore." He said with a sombre expression. He wanted to ask her what she thought of the place, her opinion mattered to him more than he would care to admit.  As he saw her anxiously steal glances towards the clock, wanting to depart probably, he sighed. 

"If you'd like , one of my men will smuggle you to the airport in a cargo truck Miss Fazzone." he said disappointed before adding hesitantly "Though, I have found expensive dinners and interesting company is the easiest way to grieve about a loss. While the former is something I can't offer, the latter I can provide in spades." Slowly sipping his whiskey he looked at her, awaiting her response.

Lucy smirks at the thought of Husky smuggling her.  She looks from the clock back to him and seems the expression on his face while he sips whiskey and sighs.  "I'd love dinner to have dinner with you, but I'll have to go shopping for something to wear.  I'm pretty sure you don't want to take me anywhere looking like this."

Sipping her drink again she looks around the packed room, everyone smiling and having a good time.  "Of course, I'm not sure you'll want to leave this place.  It really is aces, Husky.  With so many folks here enjoying themselves, you really should be here playing the good host to them and not out with me." 

"You seem to have forgotten that I own a laundromat. Surely we can find you something you might find acceptable." Husky said as he put down his whiskey. 

"This place is here everyday. You, Miss Fazzone are not, let's go find something for you to wear." he gestured to the door as he offered his arm once again, hoping she would be less hesitant this time.

Walking back up to the surface with her hands wrapped around his arm , Husky can't help but smile as they talk about anything and everything. Stepping out of the closet he closes it behind him, before directing her to a room on the side. 

As they enter they can see a room filled with washed laundry. Dresses, elegant and risque, suits, pin-striped and window-paned , and every other kind of popular garment you might find at an average laundromat. After all, what good was a front if it did not look like it functioned successfully. He turned to look at her, gauging what size would suit her. He thought about choosing something for her, but decided against it not wanting to come off as presumptuous. 

"Take your time Mizz Fazzone, I'll wait outside." Husky said with a light bow and walked out.

The drinks continued to flow as the staff made sure the Don's table was served with the utmost attention. Music was playing and the general vibe of the Rebel's Retreat was extremely uplifting. As HuskyRadhe continued running left and right, greeting his guests and ensuring everything ran like clockwork, Mephisto called him over.

"Husky, come! With the earning of your button, you have also earnt a seat at the table alongside us. Drink, be merry, enjoy the fruits of your labour!"

Turning to Addyson, he smiled and raised his glass towards her.

"Shall we show him how it's done?"

Taking a deep breathe to prepare himself, he grinned and then began to consume his entire beer in one go, the alcohol quickly disappearing from the pint glass at an astonishing rate.

Lucy rummaged through the various piles of laundered odds and ends.  She paused when coming upon a small brown pert hat.  She walked over to a mirror and put it atop her loosely curled red locks at an extreme angle.  She peaked at herself from behind the rim and tried to imagine how she might look to Husky.  For a moment she almost fooled herself into believing an innocent young woman was looking back at her instead of a woman whose hands were still red with another man's blood.  She sighed and put the coy little hat to the side.  

Better try something else.  

A nearby, well-loved, ivy cap called to her.  It was just the sort of cap her father use to wear.  She picked it up and inhaled the scent of laundry detergent mixed with old cigar smoke.  She smiled and put it on her head.  Now that she'd chosen a style, she just had to finish her outfit.

A pair of high-rise pants - that would make her short legs look a bit longer!  Sadly, none of the button down dress shirts seemed quite right.  She turned and looked towards the more feminine attire, the sort of thing her sainted mother might have wore before her untimely death.  Every single skirt and dress made her feel like she was being strangled & couldn't catch her breath.  She just couldn't wear a dress, not today.  For one thing, she didn't plan to have that talk tonight.  For another, she didn't want to give Husky the idea that staying for dinner would lead to staying the night with him.  At least ONE of them had to keep their good sense about them. So, no, it would seem that pants were definitely the answer for tonight's dinner.

That meant picking out one of the airy blouses that nice little housewives had brought here to be dry cleaned.  Silently, she began sliding them down the rack, one by one.  A powder blue as light as air, a peach one that reminded her of the sky in early morning, and then a pink one - like flower petals and light as a butterfly's wings.  She picked it up and held it in front of her as she stood before the mirror.  It didn't go with the cap at all.  Rather how her father and mother never really matched up either.  For a moment she considered wearing both - a weird nod to who she was... or rather who she wished she could be, equal parts of both of her parents.  But, no, it just wouldn't work.

Lucy removed the cap and put the blouse and the cap before her.  There was a case for each.  Each had it's place and could be made to work... but both felt wrong to her.  For no reason she could discern, it was at this point she finally cried for Sal, as silently as she could manage.  Sadly for Lucy, as silently as she could manage, wasn't really that quiet at all.

Ten minutes later, Lucy Fazzone emerged from the back room dressed in a pair of black, double-button, high-rise slacks and a pale pink chiffon butterfly sleeved blouse.  She had tiny white cloth gloves concealing the stain still on her hands.  She smiled at Husky, as if she hadn't been weeping at all, just a few minutes ago,  "So... where are we dinning tonight?"

With the beat of the music, Addyson casually tapped her foot as she noticed the Don arrive to join both herself and Mephisto at their table. Her eyes scanned the place as there seemed to be new arrivals now. Taking a sip of her drink, she listened to Mephisto ask Husky to join them and stayed respectfully quiet. As Mephisto had asked her to drink with him, she grinned softly.

"Please. I could out drink all of you losers. Where are the shots?" 

She asked in a joking manner, though she waved the waiter over anyway. 

"What's your poison of choice?"

Waiting for the waiter to arrive, she smiled proudly of herself as she waited for them to choose. 

As he walked downstairs to entertain his other guests, Husky was glad @Lucy had decided to stay. There was something about her that intrigued him, made him want to spend hours trying to peel away the facades she hid behind till he got to the centre. He knew he might not like what he saw, but he did not care. She may just be his last hope for redemption. The only one who could fix his broken soul. But he did not trust her yet. He did not trust himself with her yet. As he touched his soot stained fedora he recalled how his heart had often led him astray in the past . Knowing he could not let it happen again, he decided to limit their interaction to a casual dinner for now , resolving to get to know her better before making any rash decisions.

Looking around he saw Mephisto beckoning him over. He and Addyson were engaged in a drinking contest and wanted him to join. Considering their already inebriated state he could probably have outlasted them easily, but he did not know how that would appear. Instead he backed out after two drinks , smiling as he excused himself to attend to other business. He turned around, hesitated and turned back . Pulling a Benjamin out of his pocket, he put it on the table and said with a grin, "My friend Mr. Franklin claims Mephisto is going to pass out." With that he winked at Addyson and walked off as a chorus of oohs resounded behind him.

As he walked up he stood at the door of the storage room ready to knock when he heard sobs coming from the inside. He debated going in, but decided against it in case she got embarrassed. Husky could understand her loss, he had gone through the same thing when Scooter died. Pulling a cigarette out from behind his ear, he lit it thinking about all that had happened since then and how happy Scooter would have been to see it. Wiping a stray tear away with his thumb he took a long drag as he heard the door open. As he looked at her , he forgot to breathe, choking on the smoke. 

"Apologies Miss Fazzone, my eyes are not habitual to such a beautiful vision in this dreary place. " he said, quickly regaining his composure. Ignoring her puffy eyes, he offered his arm and led her out of the joint saying, "There is this place nearby, blends Irish and Italian really well. I have a feeling you might enjoy it. Don't worry , your shirt will be washed by the time we're done, packed along with 3 cases of whiskey as I'd promised. " Holding the door open he look one last look at the place before turning to face her and enquired, "Shall we?"

"You'd have to be insane to try to blend Irish and Italian foods.  Have you ever seen what passes for food among the Irish?"  She laughs.  "This place, I have to see it to believe it."  She takes his arm.  "Lead the way.  And I hope you like talking over dinner.  As a rule, conversation is always the best part of a good meal.... well, that and a nice wine.  Wine, to be honest, is more my speed.  I try to drink the harder stuff, but I've never been able to master it."

Dandelion walks out of the gambling den and locks the door behind him. He's drawing from a fat cigar and can't help but feel content with the fiscal results of this past evening.. He notices the crowd gathered at the bar and decides to enjoy some time with his family.

As Dandelion walks up to the bar, he tells the bartender.. "I'd like a Johnnie Walker, neat.'

He takes a sip from his glass and draws from his cigar once again.

Not sure why they don't come out here more often. This is by far the best hideout in town! Dandelion feels like he's said too much but goes on.. I'd like to extend an invitation to my family, on my dollar, to enjoy the next couple of rounds on me! 

Enjoy my fellow Rebells!!!