Amelia's fingers clutched at the roots of her fiery hair.  The skyscrapers of Detroit swam in the reflections of her soft brown eyes as she stared unseeingly at them from her boss's office window.  A blue box... She tried to remember. What was so important about a blue box? So many secrets. She tugged on the hair in her grasp, trying to force her chafed memory to offer up something, anything more concrete.

"Amy? Amy, what are you doing here?" The voice startled the young woman out of her reverie, causing her to turn quickly around, her hands dropping to her sides. Behind her, in the doorway, stood the voluptuous Lauren, a suspicious look pulling her eyebrows together over a piercing gaze.

"Oh...I'm sorry, ma'am. I was...I think I was just getting something for Mr. Mancini." She looked down to her feet to see a small lockbox turned over on the floor.  "Yeah...this right here." She swiftly bent down to pick up the box and scuttled out of the room.

She was shaking slightly outside of DannyMancini's office.  One hand rose automatically to knock on the door.  She was swiftly replied by the man's voice calling out for her to come in. She quietly opened the door and stepped forward to set the metal box onto his desk with a soft clunk.  He murmured a thank-you, glancing up to her face from his work.  She stared back at him, her mind still trying to pry into the vague image of a bright blue box in her mind. She didn't notice the tears streaming silently down her face.

"Miss Pond...Amy...Amelia, what's the matter? You're crying, what's the matter?" She shook her head and raised a hand to her face, pulling it away to look at her fingertips glistening with tears.

"I...I don't know, sir. I'll...I'll take care of it, Mr. Mancini." Before the man could say another word, she had left the room, amazingly swift on her feet. They took her to the elevator, through the lobby, out of the office building, and to a bar several blocks away.  She listlessly ordered a gin and tonic from the disinterested barkeep, then nestled herself into a corner of the room, her eyes staring into the depths of her untouched drink, grasping through the straws of her mind for an answer, barely noting the other people gathering in the bar.

oh this is interesting miss Amy. I havent read a story that seemed to catch my attention and emotion like this in a while. good work on this.

SINGER_ROURKE handed back the story and smiled

So do you know what was in the lockbox

A man in the bar suddenly flounced up to her and handed her a piece of paper, babbling on about some story and the lockbox.  She glanced down at the blank piece of paper and raised her eyebrows to the man.

"Sir...I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.  Could you please leave me be?"

Very enthralling! I like your writing style. :D

She looks over to Louie, who has similarly just approached her table talking about writing. She wipes away her tears as an angry flush begins to build on her face.

"What the hell is going on here? Why does everyone seem to think I'm writing a story? Isn't it obvious I'm just sitting here in a bar, trying to think?"

She tosses her drink back and shoves the two men to the side before going to the bar for a refill.

Louie composes himself, realizing that he has just upset the young woman. He walks up next to her at the bar.

"Please forgive me, ma'am. I think I mistook you for someone else. The name's Louie_Bruno. You seem upset. Is there something I can help you with? At least let me buy you a drink?" I look at her expectantly.

She sighs and shakes her head slightly, still looking rather lost.

"I...I don't know. If you want to pay for this one--" She motioned to the drink being placed in front of her "--feel free." She gave a heavy sigh before sipping at the gin and tonic. "What makes you so interested in me, anyway?"

Louie tips his fedora back on his head as he leans his elbows on the bar and begins to roll a cigarette. He throws a twenty at the barkeep for the gin and tonic, and the scotch. He looks over at AmeliaPond, an unreadable expression on his face, and begins to speak...

"Let's put it this way: I have a long history of having a soft spot for dames in trouble, and from your body language and that worried look, I'd say thats what you are. My pops always told me that sometimes its good to tell your troubles to a complete and total stranger. Now, since we've only just laid eyes on each other for the first time a few minutes ago, I think I fall into that category. Besides, I have a certain knack for helping people with problems. So? Whatdya say, toots? Willing to give it a go?"

He takes a long pull on the cigarette, then chases it with a swig of scotch, patiently waiting for the damsel in distress to confide in him...