Harlow hadn't been in town even twenty-four hours when she decided it was time to get out.  She put on a nice evening dress and drove downtown.  Not the strip, too many tourists of late... no, she wanted a quiet venue. 

She chose a little hole in the wall place that had opened about ten years ago and had changed hands nearly a dozen times since then - it was now called 'Almost Blue' which was an irony because the whole place had a sort of red hue. 

No one who owned it now knew the story of who the original owner 'Silvio' really was but all tales around town claimed he'd been some next level mafia hitman and a wildly successful lady's man who died tragically of a broken heart.  Of course, it was most likely that his heart was broken by a bullet, but Harlow could appreciate a good love story as much as the next dame and so she accepted the gossip at face value.

Soft jazz enveloped her as she stepped in off the street and the man at the door took her jacket and checked it.  The place was as empty as it possibly could be, and so she presumed the band was being paid regardless of the number of patrons - else why bother playing?  She smiled at the man on the piano and took a table with her back to the wall on the right side of the room.  She didn't suspect there would be trouble tonight, and she'd yet to hire a single bodyguard, but... why take chances?

She looked to the waiter as he approached, "Hey Joey."

"Miss Harlow.  Good to see you tonight, what's your pleasure?"

"I'll have the baked chicken and mash... have the chef pick a wine to go with it."

"Very good, Miss.  Glad to have you back in town.  I hope everything went well for you in Chicago?"

Harlow smiled, "You remembered."

"I hang on your every word, Miss.  Just give me two shakes and I'll have your drinks.  Enjoy the music!"  With the young man disappeared into the back and Harlow lost herself in thoughts of the Windy City as the music played on.

Clemenza's foot was tapping a rapid staccato that sharply contrasted with the smooth jazz from the band. 

"Relax, Clem," said John. "It'll be fine."

"Fine, he says..." Clemenza stubbed out his cigar with a glare. "Fine for you, but what do you care. I've got a wife, kids, and friends that don't give a shit about my wife and kids. If you fuck this up, it's my ass on the line."

"My ass is right next to yours, you know, so I'm pretty motivated to stay in one piece myself."

"Sure, kid."

"And besides, you're desperate." John dropped his voice, absentmindedly running his hand through his hair as he glared at the older man. "This is the only thing keeping you out of the slammer, and-"

"I know. Believe me. No chance I'd be doing this otherwise."

"So just shut up, do your job, and head back to Boston. I'm sicka hearing you bitch. Go to those meetings with your bigwigs and mention my name as someone looking for work. Just like you did in Chicago and Detroit. I'll start here, try to make a few friends. References. After this... you're done. Off the hook- and you keep that mouth of yours shut and you won't get hooked again."

The men glared at each other for a few minutes before Clemenza's eyes dropped to the table. With a sigh, he tossed his napkin on his plate and left. John threw back his drink and, tossing a few bills on the table, scanned the room. The place was almost empty. There were a few old-timers spread around the place, but only a couple promising leads: the bartender and the blonde. 

Heading toward both of them, John slid onto a barstool and grinned at the woman. He'd discovered early on that women liked that particular smile and, looking somewhere between his early and mid-twenties, he'd seemingly had a chance to practice it. His physique was in better shape than his clothing: a faded leather coat clung to his shoulders, his dress shirt would have been slightly worn even if the top two buttons had been done, and his dark leather shoes were nice enough, but scuffed.

John smiled at the woman, but spoke to the bartender first.

"Beer. Something on the lighter side, huh?"

Harlow noticed the man sit down near her.  She gave him a look, a faint hint of a smile and then returned to the drink which had been brought for her.  She tried to mind her own businesses, that was always a good rule of thumb she'd found, but her eyes looked to the man a second time unintentionally and when she found him looking at her, the grin on her face grew.

"I'm sorry,"  She said looking towards him.  "Have we met before?  I'm normally very good with names but... I can't place your face if we have."

"No, we haven't met. I feel like I would have remembered you."

He grinned as he accepted his beer and sampled it with a small smile.

"John Keats. Pleasure to meet you, Miss...?"

"Harlow."  She offered.  "Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Keats."

The bartender came by then and refilled Harlow's glass, backing off leaving the two alone once more.

"You from around here or just a tourist passing through?"  She asked making polite small talk, watching to see if he was indicating he'd prefer to be left with his beer in silence.

"John, please."

He smirked, leaning against the bar and scanning the still empty bar before focusing on the woman at his side.

"Nice to make your acquaintance, Harlow. I'm passing through, I suppose, trying to make my way in the world and find some work. I expect that I'll land in Chicago before long, but a bit of sightseeing now could benefit me later. What about yourself?"

"Chicago?  I have a friend or two up that way."  Her pale pink lips pulled upward toward her baby blue eyes. 

"Maybe we'll end up crossing paths again when I visit up there."  She sipped her drink. 

"I'm a businesswoman here in Vegas actually.  I'm always looking for eager hands looking to make a buck or two.  If you don't mind me inquiring, you got any specific skills or trades that you could apply... if I were needing some work done?"

Businesswoman? Was she on call? That bit about eager hands suggested it. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to take her up on it; after all, he had more than a few bucks in his pocket. 

Still, women tended to get offended if you assumed that sort of thing and wound up being wrong. Better to play it slow. 

"Businesswoman, huh? Eager hands..."

He seemed to consider the question.

"Any sort of work, really. I was a soldier, before I got kicked out. Not too many jobs hiring these days, so I figure I'll do anything to put money in my pocket, right? What else is an honest man to do?"

He rolled the word "honest" on his tongue, like he was savoring its flavor, before seeming to spit it out as distasteful. 

"What sort of business are you in, Miss Harlow?"

"Well, it's nice to meet an honest man. A rare enough thing these days."

She rolled the liquid around in her glass.

"As for me... well, you could say that I'm connected."  She paused.  For a moment she considered the best possible way to describe the life without causing a stir.  These first meetings with potential associates were her least favorite parts of working for Drax.  Still, she had to determine if he was (or was already working for someone in the) Cosa Nostra or if he was just some random schlub who happened to stumble into the wrong bar on a wrong night.  How he reacted would determine the course of the rest of this conversation. 

"I'm a leader within the fifth estate here in Las Vegas."  The Fifth Estate, she'd learned from some friends was one of the many ways folks talked about organized crime.  It was a more 'sensitive' way of saying 'mafia' without every ear in the room turning your direction.  The danger was that this guy might not even know that - hell, she didn't until recently and she'd been in the life for some time now.

"I'm always on the lookout for new talent to help move our products or clear up problems that we're having on the streets.  Occasionally I get lucky enough to come across friends of ours in places like this,"  Another attempt to get the point across ... made men introduced people who were already in the life as 'friends of ours' and so maybe that would be a more familiar phrase to the man's ears.

"... and when I do, well, sometimes arrangements can be made to provide a little pocket money in exchange for doing some work for my Boss.  Freelance.  Wouldn't want to lock you down to staying in the area if you got plans up in Chicago... but hell, if you got time on your hands, ambition, and need a little work - well, I might be able to assist you."

She looked him up and down, smiled warmly, "Of course, no promises that the sort of work I've got on my desk right now will be of interest to you.  Some of it's pretty boring - little more than shipping gigs.  Granted, for a former soldier, I might have something that's a little more hands-on if that's what trips your trigger?"

Connected, huh? People certainly weren't ashamed of talking about the life. 

"A little work sounds good. I'm doin' what I can to make a name for myself before I settle in Chicago. Happy to do whatever kind of job you've got in mind."

He paused to drink a long drink from his beer, sighing contentedly before his eyes rose to meet Harlow's.

"And I can get as hands on as possible- if the price is right. Maybe I can earn enough to buy you a drink when the job's done?"

"Where were you a few weeks ago?"  She said softly, a smile playing on her lips.  "I ... ah... I'm spoke for these days."  She said looking towards the man beside her.

"But the sentiment is sweet and ... appreciated."

She put down her glass and turned to face Keats more directly.

"You know, since you're heading up to Chicago, and I have something that I need to get into the hands of my friends up that way - maybe you could do some courier work.  The item isn't too hot, but it's personal enough to not send along with the post.  I put it in your hands, you take it to my friend and he pays you handsomely for doing us the solid.  Might be a nice way for you to meet someone pretty important up that way and get your foot in the door... plus I'll supply you with cash for trip.  Can't have you running out of dough on the way."

She leaned on the bar, "If you're up for it that is?  I'd understand if you weren't ... we just met and all.  Of course, the night's young... maybe we chat a bit more and by the end of our talk you feel a little more inclined to take the job?"

"Where were you a few weeks ago?"

John smirked, not sure how much she'd believe. When she mentioned being 'spoke for' John shrugged apologetically at the bartender. Oh well- her loss. Besides, by the look of her she'd just wind up complicating things, distracting him from his goals.

"I don't mind playing errand boy for you, if the pay is nice. Seems a little hands off to me, but..." he shrugged, "as I said, I'll take any work I can get. Of course, if you were looking to persuade me a little more I wouldn't say no."

John sat on the barstool next to her, looking conspiratorial but glancing more at the bartender now.

"So do I get to know what I'm carrying? Anything special I should be aware of? Or is it better not to ask?"

Harlow's cheeks reddened.  

"Maybe I'm an old fashioned girl and like to take it slow ... give you something to do and work you up to the hands-on stuff?"  

She knew it was wrong to flirt with another guy after Levey had asserted she belonged to him, but the fact of the matter was that Levey loved Tamsyn.  She wasn't 100% sure she wanted to share her guy with someone else and she wasn't sure (if, in fact, Tamsyn was alive) that she'd be okay with being the side piece either.  No doll who was a real gangster wanted to be cast as a Moll.  Harlow longed to be loved by someone and while she knew Levey did love her, in his way, maybe Mr. M had a point?  Maybe she did deserved something... more?

Harlow sipped her drink.

Or maybe he's the best I ever get, and I blow it, and I'm all alone ...

"The package is full of some personal effects which a contact of mine had picked up from a boarding house matron outta New York.  Apparently Mr. Posner ... a very important businessman outta Chicago ... had a girlfriend who was living there some time before she went missing.  These items were taken from her before she met Mr. Posner, of course.  Figured in lew of finding said girlfriend, who I'm still tracking down, maybe he'd be happy to know I'm making progress.  Again, its not something I'd trust the postman to handle.  Mr. Posner isn't the sort of guy who'd want these very sensitive items put at risk as they may contain clues as to where she was taken and who took her... or why."

She put her glass down and her smile faded a touch as she admitted, "Besides the fact that he might just want to have something of hers that means something ... just in case she doesn't come back."

Harlow, not for the first time, wished she hadn't take this gig for Levey.  The man meant so much to her now and while she had begun this quest as a favor to a dear friend, it now felt like she was seeking out her own doom and every step closer to Tamsyn and her kidnappers/killers... was one away from Levey.

John raised his beer toward Harlow.

"I'm a bit old fashioned myself, in some ways. Apologies if I've been too forward, Miss Harlow. Being in the army and bouncing around trying to make a name as a bodyguard... well, you don't run into women like you too often."

He grinned, but noticing Harlow's smile fading his did the same.

"I'd be happy to handle the package delivery for you. Mr. Posner sounds like a good person to know, and I appreciate you helping me make a name like this- especially if there's a little money in the job, too. Is there a favor I can do for you to make it up to you? Anything bothering you I can solve for ya?"

Harlow hadn't had too many folks ask her what they could do for her in this life.  Even as a hand, most days she was off asking folks what she could do for them (and not always receiving much in the ay of feedback.)  It was refreshing to have anyone be concerned with her and her desires, but the fact was she didn't have much she wanted or needed.  When you grew up with nothing, not even a name, you either wanted for everything or nothing.  Harlow felt she was often in the latter category.  

Still, the left-hand of the Destroyers found herself looking on her companion with eyes softened by his words and the heat of the alcohol which was a slow burn in her blood which loosened all of the muscles in her body - not the least of which was her tongue.

"There isn't much in this world I don't take for myself these days.  Of course, even with all my blessings, some things still remain out of my reach.  So, if you happen to possess some magic talent for tracking down an orphan kids' parents ... that would be a trick I'd pay to see.  Granted, it's been a long ass time and, well, ain't nobody that good ... you know what, forget I said anything."

She shook her head, realizing it was an idiot thing to have let slip past her lips, "What about you?  Do you got kin on these shores?  A family?"

John shook his head.

"Grew up in an orphanage, never had a family. Had some friends, but I lost track of them when I joined the Army. By the time I'd been kicked out, I couldn't find them."

He finished his drink.

"Do you make it up to Chicago often? Or do you mostly stick in Vegas?"

"I spend most of my time in Chicago if I'm being honest.  Not that I don't want to be here, I do, but I'm still in the middle of doing something for Mr. Posner that I got tied up in long before I was put in the position I am now.  I need to see it through until whatever end comes of it."

Harlow got into her purse and pulled out some cash.  Flipping a few bills out she paid the bartender for both of their drinks and then she slipped a few bills into Keats' palm.

"For travel expenses.  Tomorrow morning you can pick up the small box of items at the front desk of the Calico Development Group.  Let them know you're the courier that Miss Harlow sent and they'll get you what you need.  Levey will be expecting you.  He'll make sure you get paid when you deliver the items.  And, if for some reason he doesn't, then I will."

Harlow stood up. 

"It was good meeting you, John, but I really should be getting home.  The hooch is hitting me a little harder than expected tonight.  Look me up some time though.  I want to hear how things worked out for you in Chicago, okay?"

John looked into Harlow's eyes as she slipped him the cash. There was a sadness there that he didn't expect, and that troubled him. It reminded him too much of his mother, and he mentally steeled himself. If he was going to make this work, he couldn't let every pretty face knock him off course.

"Okay, Harlow. Appreciate the gig. And if things go the way I want, I'll see you in the Windy City soon."

With a nod, he headed for the exit.