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Pros and Their Cons: Pt II Started by: JohnnyChrist on Nov 09, '20 07:06

Johnny smiled at Barbara as she picked up the paperwork. She was quick on the take, that was for certain. And with her help, this was going to be absolutely painless. Taking his exit from the office, he paused and shook Wright's hand again. "Thank you for seeing us this afternoon. I appreciate your professionalism and prompt attention to our unannounced visit. Sorry you had to hear about Mr. Wence from us." Bowing his head, Johnny turned for the tellers and approached the first open window.

"If you would please take me to Mr. Wence's deposit boxes so that we may clear them," Johnny smiled at the young lady, and set the keys on the counter. Taking a quick look at the keys, she nodded and picked them up. "Right this way, sir."

Quickly she led Johnny down a small hallway which opened into a vault of lockboxes. She pointed out three different boxes of varying sizes and Johnny blinked. "Ah, I do believe I'll need a box. Would you mind fetching that for me?" Smiling, he bowed his head graciously as she turned and departed. Soon as she had vacated the room, he set to opening the biggest box. A cigar box? What was in there? Opening it, he smirked. Full of cash. He'd hoped for a box of Cuban cigars, but at least cash was always nice. Underneath the box were a few signed photos with Jerry and renowned fighters of the previous era. Johnny chuckled and shook his head. The man had his memoirs. That was for certain. Sticking his hand into the back of the box to make sure it was empty, he felt more. Gripping around the leathery feeling material, he pulled out a set of boxing gloves.

"Jerry, you old man... These must have been your first gloves."

"First championship gloves," the voice came from behind him. Turning around, Johnny smiled at Mr. Wright.

"Ah, something memorable for certain. He'd discussed a few of his fights with me in our time dealing with his estate. I knew he was an incredible coach, but never knew he'd won a championship. He never mentioned that."

"No no, that was his first fighter to win a heavyweight division championship belt. Those were his gloves. I forget the boys name. Dead now, too many blows to the head. But he was a hell of a fighter from Jerry's stories. Ahhh, I'm going to miss that man."

Johnny nodded, and smiled. "You know, there was nothing about these in the estates. Why don't you take them to remember your friend by?" Holding up the gloves, he smiled at Mr. Wright. "They'd mean nothing to his son and daughter, and they obviously mean something to you."

Wright stared in disbelief as he reached for the gloves slowly. "Ya mean it, Mr. Huxley? Oh, that would be quite the story for other customers! And it would mean a lot to me! Thank you, Mr. Huxley!" Johnny nodded and held them out more so and smoothed the deal, "Of course. No one needs to even know they weren't just a gift from him directly."

Smiling, Wright took the gloves and exited the room, gushing over the gloves as he wandered back down the hallway. That was a bit close for comfort. Johnny checked the box one last time before closing it and moving to the next one. The second box held a few of the late Mrs. Wence's items. A pearl necklace, a few other jewelry related items that seemed nothing more than mementos of the past, and then a pair of diamond earrings with a matching diamond choker. That was nice.

The third box held two sets of keys, a few business contracts, and two boxes of old coins. John shook his head and spun just in time for the teller to bring the box in for him. "My apologies for the wait, Mr. Huxley... Mr. Wright stopped me and told me all about the gloves you let him take." She rolled her eyes and chuckled.

Johnny smirked and shook his head, "It's more than fine miss. Thank you kindly. I'll just get these things put in here quickly, and here. You can take these keys and I'll be out of your hair momentarily."

Handing her the keys, Johnny turned and quickly began to load all of the items up. He could worry about sorting through everything later. All that mattered, was they needed to be GONE. And soon. Once every item was packed into his box, he carried it out into the lobby and looked at the young Benjamin. "Care to grab the door for me, Mr. Benjamin?" he called to the man. With a smile, he jumped up and rushed over to open it. "Thank you young man." Johnny exited, but caught the door with his foot as he sat the box on the ground. "Here you go," he tugged his money clip from his pocket and plucked four crisp tens from the fold, handing them to Benjamin. "You've been a gentleman, and a help today. By yourself something nice." Johnny winked, and bent to pick up his box of items again before making his way to the vehicle.

Opening the round door, he mouthed a -sorry- to Barb who gave him the -GET ME OUTTA THIS SHIT- look. Reaching behind her and setting the box in the seat, he quickly ran around to his side and hopped in. Once both doors were shut and he'd started the car, he looked at Barbara.

"Let's get the fuck outta here!"

Pulling safely, but quickly out into the road, Johnny and Barb raced away from the bank headed in the direction of her side of town.

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The moment that rounded the first corner, Barb immediately began shedding layers of clothing; all concern for any modicum of modesty that she might still have been able to salvage going right out the window in her urgency and discomfort. It was an impressive spectacle of skill. You know the kind. Like when a woman removes her bra without taking of her shirt, but MORE. There were garters and hosiery, and all manner of ‘proper ladies garments’ with padding and clips in places Johnny never would have imagined. Not to mention the gloves, stole, cardigan and hat that had to removed first. But, all in all, the final result was far from hard on the eyes... leaving her in a gossamer camisole and knife pleated skirt beneath the tailored mid-trench that draped her shoulders. It was polished, but still very ‘Barb’ as compared to the previous costume of acceptability. It was kind of nice. 

Having folded everything and tucked it carefully atop the boxes in the back seat, Barb finally afforded their surroundings enough attention to realize that they were, in fact, headed back to her side of town. Shooting Johnny a nervous glance, she chewed her lip as she stared out the window for a long moment before clearing her throat softly. 

“Are yas sure that’s the best idea?” She mused, gesturing in the general direction of her complex, “What with the fuzz likely to be back and all?” She mumbled to herself for a moment, arguing over the pros and cons of being there versus not, and what would be more dangerous or less suspicious. Suddenly, the weight of the days events seemed to weigh on her more heavily. She looked tired... the crows feet at the very edges of her eyes sharpening with each new thought. It was definitely going to be a smoke-yourself-to-sleep kind of a night, regardless of where her head landed or how. That was for sure. 

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Johnny took a glance at Barbara as she asked her question. He could see it written on her face; the worry. Reaching over, he shoved her shoulder playfully. "Yeah. Honestly, I think it'll be best if you're there for a little bit. Ya know. That way we can tell the coppers you're gonna come and stay with me for the night. Mostly, we're goin' there so ya can get yourself a go bag of things to stay out for a few days. I'd say you can stay with me, but it's about as much a shit hole as you got now. Including a dead guy... Even if mine's only on paper." He smirked, trying to make her chuckle. But somewhere deep down, he was pretty certain that joke wasn't going to work.

"Anyways," he cleared his throat as he drove, turning back to watch the road. "We need to go -somewhere- private so we can dig through this shit. All I'll need to do is sign the land deed over to Jerry's son, and then as Jerry's son, I'll sign the land deed over to my contact. Done deal. But there's a lot more shit that we can do with this stuff. A lot more money to be made, and counted. Jerry was dumb. He had cash in his deposit box. Don't he know that shit's not insured like cash IN the bank?" Chuckling, he shook his head. "Also, Wright should have wired all of the money from Jerry's account already. I have some friends in Vegas that are going to like that extra payday." Johnny smirked before chuckling softly.

"Fucking hell of a day, huh doll? Never a dull moment, nope. Never at all." He sighed and shook his head, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out his case of smokes. With a click the case opened and he held it out to Barbara. Multiple hand-rolled cigarettes were on one side, and two were off to the other. "The two separate are spliffs. The good shit. I promise. Let's celebrate a little bit, yeah? The hardest part of the con is over... Now I gotta get you through the hardest part of the day. Your night."

Johnny waited for her to finally take the spliffs and light them before he closed his case and held his hand out. "Thanks," he chirped as he snagged his smoke and plopped it between his lips.

"Sos first things first, let's talk about it. How ya feelin' over there? Had time to process any? You ever done a guy in on purpose? I knows ya said not on purpose earlier, but..." he paused and looked at her. "Jeez, I'm even talking more like you now! We've been around each other to much already, yeah?" Smirking, he poked her arm. "Hey, don't worry about it. Guy was a sleazeball and you're gonna get away with it. As long as you don't ever -enjoy- doin' it? Hell, you'll be okay. And, if you do enjoy it? Well, then there's a lot more work open for ya!"

He knew he wasn't helping much, so why couldn't he shut up? Maybe he was just as worried as her and just trying to wear a more confident face? Maybe he wasn't worried about himself so much as he was worried about her in general? Would she be okay after this? What exactly did she need to cope with the fact that she had just killed a man, and then robbed a bank, in the same day? And the two crimes weren't even related!

Puffing on his spliff, Johnny exhaled out of the window. His demeanor and seriousness shifted as he exhaled.

"Talk to me Barb, I need you to stay with me..."

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Barb rolled her eyes as she handed off his spliff. “I’m fine, ya putz,” she nipped half-playfully, shifting away from him slightly to rest one one elbow as she exhaled out the window. “It ain’t... a COMFORTABLE thought, per se. But I ain’t sweatin’ it. ...yet. I’s honestly more worried about pullin’ everything off than havin’ done him in. And I thinks that’s tha bit that rubs tha most, y’know? That I can’t even makes myself feel bad for it... is tha only part that feels wrong.” 

She was quiet for a long while again, silently observing him from the corner of her eye. Was he seriously concerned? Or just concerned with her not ruining his take?? She was skeptical. He was a DAMN good grifter, after all. But something in the way he kept watching her seemed genuine... a subconscious safekeeping of sorts, unacknowledged and unfakeable in its attentive and nurturant safeguarding. And something about that TERRIFIED her. 

“He was done fors anyhow. I just... sped things along. So’s he couldn’t make life worse than he already has for Ginger. Two a them kids is his... by force if my hunch is right. An’ there ain’t a doubt in my mind, he’d a narc’d just ta watch her suffer from his deathbed. Damned dirty bastard. I’d say I hopes he rots in hell... but I don’t wanna see his fat ugly face when I gets there,” she chuckled coldly, oddly consigned to the idea that she deserved no better than fiery eternal damnation. 

The worried look in his eye as he took a deep breath, told her more anxious blathering was on the way. He hadn’t rambled this much since they met. Which, in the grand scheme of things wasn’t very long. But, even so, it seemed out of character with the intentional control he always projected. Before he could dive into whatever white-knighting soapbox of absolution was playing behind his eyes, Barb laid a calming hand on his knee - mostly because it was the easiest thing to reach, but also for the stunned ‘shut up’ factor. “I’m with ya, Johnny,” she assured him in the softest, gentlest tone he’d ever heard from her. With a pained but reassuring smile, she met his eyes, her thumb tracing light patterns along the top of his thigh as she held his gaze. And for the blink of an eye, she was all soft curls, chiffon, and silk - no armour, no edges, just a bare artist heart. But, in typical Barb fashion, as quickly as it had dissolved, her sharpness snapped right back into place as her grin turned teasing. Shoving his shoulder lightly, she leaned back to her side of the vehicle, taking a strong drag from the fine tobacco and bud. “Now quitchyas yammerin’ woudjyas,” she taunted with a wink. 

Yeah. She’d be fine. ...mostly... probably. 

 

To Barb’s dismay, circling the building revealed that a lone cruiser had returned to the scene of her crime. The sight of it set her on edge as she eyed the boxes of stolen shit in the back seat. Johnny, easily adjusting course, slid the car into a vacant lot behind the unit before escorting her to the door on foot; his firm grip on her arm the only thing anchoring her lunch to her stomach. The threshold of the building had never felt particularly welcoming. It was never a place she liked or looked forward to entering. But the dread that she felt as she approached it now was unlike anything she’d ever felt in her life. Steeling herself against the scene she was sure to find inside, she took a deep breath as she pushed herself through the heavy, creaking door... and nearly choked as stifled an astonished snicker. 

No body, no blood, no crime tape or chalk. And, to her mixed relief and amusement, no officers. We’re it not for the rhythmic thumping echoing down the hall from Ginger’s apartment, Barb might have been suspicious. As it was, she simply chuckled quietly at the beasties grunts that reverberated through the all-too-thin walls. “This,” Barb whispered with a smirk as she tiptoed toward her flat, “is exactly why she will NOT be managin’ tha boarding house. Bordello, maybe. BnB, not so much.” Once safely in her room, Barb was quick to pack. She didn’t own a TON to begin with, but her absolute necessities were even fewer. Pulling a worn leather suitcase from beneath the bed, the haphazard tossing commenced as she talked herself through packing the bare essentials. The canvases could stay. She’d come back for those later. Off the cuff, she needed her sketch pad, a few pencils, her watercolors, papers (the rolling AND the typing kind), her stash, and her typewriter. Oh... and clothes. Definitely clothes. Which she added almost as an afterthought. 

Perking up as the creaking next door slowed to a huffing stop, Barb smirked as she snapped the case shut and secured it... completely ignoring Johnny’s whispers of protest as she made purposefully for the door. Two steps into the hall, and he heard the door to Ginger’s room creak open with a soft groan. The awkward clearing of a man’s throat echoed up the hall before Johnny heard Barb chirp. “Oh, hello, officer.” 

Silence. Dead chucking silence as Barb, doe eyed and smiling blinked at the uniformed man... letting him flounder on the spot far longer than necessary before offering, with a knowing smirk. “Y’know, I think it’s wonderful thatchyas willin’ ta come by after hours just ta check up on us. It makes me feel much safer knowin’ that you’ll be stoppin’ by occasionally... especially with Ginger havin’ little one’s an’ all. Really restores my confidence in tha force.” 

“Oh... well... you know...” Johnny heard the young rookie from before stammer, his eyes growing wide as Johnny stepped out and closed the door behind him. “I just... uhh... I’m always happy to go the extra mile for the community,” he wilted under their knowing gazes. “Oh, that’s so comfortin’ ta hear... especially for us low class gals,” Barb grinned like a hungry she-devil about to pounce, “Ya make sure ta let Officer Bradley know that Johnny an’ I’ll vouch for yas outstanding commitment to service ANY time. Yeah?” 

And suddenly it clicked. Johnny had intended to be in and out, to avoid the man altogether but this.... this was cold and calculated and brilliant. Barb had played him into a corner. And Johnny saw the naive recognition fall across the man’s face like a bucket of ice water. He was on the hook. Barb, never letting on, simply smiled, patting his shoulder as she slid past him and down the stairs, “In fact, I’s think I might call up an’ suggest they’s gives yas a promotion... first thing in tha morning.” 

Chuckling awkwardly, the young man rushed to hold the door for her. “Oh, that won’t be necessary, ma’am,” he assured her with a bow of his head. “Are you sure?” Bard blinked, catching his gaze. “Yes, ma’am. COMPLETELY sure,” he pressured, “Rookies don’t get promotions. Not until they’re full members of the force.” 

Feigning the realization, Barb nodded, “Oh. Wells, in that case, I’s look forward ta keepin my eyes on ya. Yas got a bright future if I gotta any say in it.” She motioned for John to follow as she slipped out the open door with a smile and a wink, leaving the nubile officer to contemplate the repercussions of being caught - literally - red handed with his pants down. 

 

Sliding into the coup with her bag, Barb waited to watch the cruiser pull past the alley before giving Johnny ‘the nod’. “So’s, where’s ya thinkin’ we bunk down? Got anythin’ in mind?” She smiled and blinked at him as if they were simply out on a completely normal vacation... as if they HADN’T just killed a man, robbed a bank, AND blackmailed an officer. “I think I still gots a little cash left outta what we’s gave ta Ginger. I can prolly springs for a hotel... just for tha night. Unless yas wann go Dutch?” 

Sparking the remaining half of her spliff, she puffed away silently as she waited for him to make a decision... perfectly fine with sleeping in the car, if necessary. But, at least maybe they should park somewhere a little less ‘rob me’. 

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Johnny plopped down in the car next to her and just sat there. How had he missed it? How had he not seen the opportunity there that she took with the officer? He was better than that. Then again, he was more worried about her that he didn't want to exacerbate the situation or risk her choking on a run-in with the law. Regardless, she'd pulled it off stunningly well. More so than he could have ever imagined, and that stunned him. Had he not read Barb well enough? Was she just as much a con artist as him? Or was she simply living in the moment? Taking a glance in her direction as she spoke he blinked, hardly recognizing the words that came out of her mouth. Good thing his mind was quick enough to read her lips and relay the message to him.

"Well," Johnny started the car as words finally made their way to him. "I say we hit up a hotel and let Mr. Wence pay for the night." Nodding to the back of the car with a smirk, he chuckled. "It'll be a good way to wash out some of this bread before it finds it's way stale if ya follow me."

Turning his gaze to the alley ahead of him, Johnny put the car in drive. There was no way they'd be staying anywhere near the area. That was for certain.

"There's a nice place in the middle of town. Not too upscale so someone thinks somethin' of us, but not so ratty that I gotta sleep with a gun under my pillow, ya know?" Looking both ways before pulling onto the road, Johnny continued. "We could kick it there, probably for a few days. I'll just have to swing by Jerry's Gym and get ridda all my shit so when my contact comes to purchase the place in a few days I can just sell it, drop the keys, and be gone, yeah?"

With Barbara's nod, Johnny headed toward the gym across town. Soon enough she'd see where he'd been staying. Until then, conversation...

"So, didja catch that rookie's name? I know ya already thought about it, but it'll come in -real- handy havin' him on your hook like that. That was quick thinkin', and good thinkin'." He chuckled. "Wasn't sure you were up for blackmailing a cop, then again you just robbed an old man of all his bank assets with me. I shoulda known." Reaching over, he gave Barb's shoulder a playful shove.

"How's it feel being such a criminal mastermind, huh?"

They both laughed at the absurdity of the day, but that didn't change that they were both in for some serious shit if it went sideways.

 

It didn't take Johnny long to get across the district and through the back alleys of town until he pulled up alongside of the gym and killed the car. "Welp, this is it... Both where I'm currently staying," he pointed to the second floor, "and where I'm selling to my contact." He pointed at the gym doors. "You can come in if ya want, or you can wait out here, your choice."

Not waiting for her decision, he hopped out of the vehicle and made his way for the doors. Once inside, he flipped the switches that powered the lights downstairs and headed for his loft. It didn't take him long to gather all of his items and start stuffing them in a small suitcase. It wasn't like he'd been sent with anything from Vegas anyway. He'd already purchased a few clothes and the suitcase, toiletries, and a lamp that was now busted. That could stay. The only other thing he grabbed was the stash of fun that was under his bed. Opening the ammo crate he grinned at the bottles of pills, bags of pot, stash of cash, and the one small bottle of booze.

"Ah, the good stuff," he grinned, popping the cork and taking a swig only to cough afterward. "Oh yeah, that's good," he graveled out, surpressing another cough as he closed the crate up. Tossing everything over his shoulder, he rushed down the stairs and killed the lights as he exited the gym. Winking at Barbara in the car, he plopped down in the seat and turned the engine over.

"Shall we go find a nice, warm bath and bed?" He smirked.

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Barb chuckled goofily as she glanced at the boxes in the back seat with a distinct ‘oh yeah’ expression; so used to having to figure it all out herself that she’d actually FORGOTTEN the massive take laying three feet away. Suddenly the wheels were spinning faster than she could process. There were so many things they could do... and so many things that could go wrong. 

Nodding silently, Barb was quiet in contemplation as they pulled out onto the street. “Johnson,” she chuckled, “the lil lady killer’s name is JOHNSON.” She shot Johnny a goofy look as she rolled her eyes at the irony. “An’ I ain’t givin’ it too much thought, yet. But I figures it’ll pay off at some point. ‘Specially when Ginger comes up prego or dead... both of which are equally likely, ifs I’m honest.” 

Damn. Cold bitch. Should he be worried at this point?? 

 

The drive across town was mostly quiet, Barb puffing through her stash of bud like water... ate through it like the stress of the day was eating through her. If he looked hard enough, she was only cold on the outside. And who could blame her? This life required a certain amount of armour that, more often than not, came in the form of frigid indifference. 

Slinking down in her seat, Barb stayed in the car when they arrived... eyeing his place with a bit of a smile as he disappeared inside. Birds of a feather, she thought silently... and then immediately choked on a throat full of smoke. Part of her wanted to peek inside. But something about that felt... intimate... in a way that she wasn’t down for. It was odd. They were, in all likelihood about to share a hotel room, and that didn’t seem out of sorts at all. But seeing h is HOUSE, somehow, was too close. What the fuck?

The jingle of the bells above the gym door startled her out of her thoughts as Johnny, with a dashing wink slid back into the car. One bag? Just one? Maybe they really were more like birds of a feather than she wanted to admit. 

At his enquiry, a lightbulb seemed to go off in her head, lighting up the stained-glass brown of her eyes with a childlike excited glow. A WARM bath! It had been ages since she’d had a proper bath in a real tub, much less with WARM water. Giggling girlishly, she writhed gleefully in her seat for a moment before nodding emphatically, “Let’s stay somewhere nice, Johnny.”

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"Somewhere's nice, eh? Ya know what? I got just the place!" Johnny chuckled and stomped on the gas, leaving a trail of rubber and smoke behind him as he did so.

As the car rocketed down the side streets, Johnny smiled at Barbara. "It's real fancy. Like, they'll probably laugh us outta tha lobby fancy until we shut their fuckin' yaps with tha money." He chuckled, turning his gaze back to the road and slowing down slightly. Traffic. He always hated driving fancy cars in traffic. Especially ones that were borrowed. Regardless, at least he had the funds on him to cover any damage if it occurred.

"So what's first on your plans for the night after we gets to the room, doll?"

Johnny serpentined gracefully through the line of cars in front of them, popping his smokes out of his pocket as he did so.

"I know I'm gonna start with a nice, hot shower... Maybe some fuckin' room service for a hot meal. Bottle of Bordeaux perhaps? Mmm, I can taste the hot food and red wine now!" He lit his cigarette and puffed on it. "And then? Maybe I'll play us some jazz while we have them deliver a box of cigars for us to enjoy and sit on the terrace in fancy bathrobes while we enjoy it all." He chuckled. "Or maybe I'll sleep. Who knows?" He shrugged. "Regardless," Johnny smiled as he continued. "We're gonna have a damn good night, and we can scour through all the belongings we now possess. But, first things first, before we even start looking at stuff. We can't keep any of the items. They all gotta go and be outta our possession as soon as possible, capisce? I'm pretty sure ya already know that, but I'm just makin' sure. We can't get attached ta nothin' just in case someone comes a-lookin'."

Johnny pulled the car up to a big, skyscraping tower of a hotel and put the vehicle in park, turning as he grinned broadly at Barbara. "Go big or go tha fuck home, yeah? Whattaya think?"

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Barbara couldn’t get a word in edgewise. She wanted to tell him to stop, to slow down, to THINK. But johnny was off on a tangent, and there was no stopping him until he parked the car outside the overwhelming shined tower he’d chosen. Chuckling nervously as she eyed the tower, Barbara teased half-heartedly, “Johnny, I said nice. Not boujie.” She eyed the front doors as she chewed her lip. “Don’t gets me wrong. That all sounds real nice. But, are yas sure that’s the best course a action? Makin’ ourselves noticeable like that?” Her glance trailed to the goods in the backseat and then to his gaze. “I’d be just as comfy somewheres... normal.” 

‘Normal’... she said it as if the place he’d chosen was so far out of her reach that she couldn’t even fathom it being part of a normal persons life. Like she couldn’t eve imagine herself walking in... much less staying the night, or several. Like THAT over there was some fancy person’s pipe dream and she’d never live to see the day.... And part of that pained her. 

“Surely it’d be suspicious... us turnin’ up here after everything. Not that I thinks anyone would... but just on the off chance.... Wouldn’t somewhere more reasonable be better?”

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Johnny almost deflated a bit at her suggestion. She was probably right... Probably. But there was something about the place that made him still want to go in and live that high-life. With a begrudging sigh, he put the car back in gear.

"We could always go play some poker and win big really quick. I'll call it dumb luck, and then we can use that as our cover?"

He knew he could do it, especially with Barbara with him, but it was already getting late into the evening, and making a show so quickly wouldn't go over as smoothly as he'd like. Shaking his head, he pushed on the gas and pulled out of the parking lot.

"Back to it then," he chuckled softly. "A little more reasonable it is."

They drove in near silence with Barbara's head staring out of the window as the passed skyscraper after skyscraper. Soon enough, Johnny pulled the car into a smaller hotel, only four stories to this one, and put the car in park.

"Not the Ritz, but certainly not low class. Still a hot meal, hot shower or bath, and a nice balcony to smoke a joint on, yeah?" He smiled at her. "At least I assume they have room service. Doubtful there's a Bordeaux wine with my name on it, but there's gotta be something we can get put in the room. I know this place has a restaurant in it." Chuckling, Johnny killed the car and opened his door, the biting chill of the night breeze riffling through Barbara's curls and fluffing the papers in the backseat. Johnny wrapped his coat tightly around him and rushed over to Barb's door, opening it for her. "Grab the cigar box and pull out a stack of that green gold and will go inside to get checked in. We can come back with a cart for the luggage and goods, yeah?"

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Nodding in agreement, Barb retrieved a small stack of bills from the backseat. Tucking them carefully into his coat pocket, she fluffed and smoothed her curls, sliding back into her strapped pumps and checking her lipstick in the mirror before stepping out of the car. There was something almost comical about the way she primped and flounced. And yet, the soft femininity with which she slipped her arm in his seemed almost natural as he escorted her to the door. Like, draped in the gossamer trappings of finery, the diamond in all of her ‘rough’ was somehow liberated to shine through. Like, if given half a chance, she really could live the high life as a proper roller... with everything that entailed. 

But, as of yet, it was a glimmer of a promise and nothing more. A patina over the cold reality that they were faking it all. But, hey, ‘fake it til as make it’, Barb thought to herself as they approached the front desk. Inwardly, she was WRITHING. This was exactly the kind of place that always made her lifestyle choices painfully, keenly clear. Sure, she was dressed for the part and she could smile quietly as Johnny did all the talking. But deep down, she knew - and she was almost SURE that everyone else could tell - that they did not belong here. The polite smile from the receptionist must be secretly condescending or pitying or humoring. Beneath the cheery forced kindness with which she asked ‘And how can I help you this evening’ Barb was sure that she really meant ‘what are YOU doing here’. As she glanced around the polished, shining lobby, the disingenuousness of her own con - and veritably her whole life - reflected back at her in every syrupy customer voice and service smile. And it turned her stomach. Even the bellhop set her on edge as he offered to help with their luggage. Barb, almost freezing, simply looked at Johnny trying her best to hide the avalanche of discomfort behind her own fake smile.  

She was relieved when Johnny turned him down, tipping him well for simply bringing the cart over. With a quiet bow, he directed them toward the elevator and then disappeared without another word... convinced by the large sum of cash in his palm that NOT doing his job was, in fact, the correct course of action. 

Barb’s heavy sigh as the man scurried silently away drew a quizzical look from Johnny as they both set about unloading the car. She could pull off manslaughter... MURDER, rob a bank in broad daylight, and blackmail an officer without batting an eye. But simply walking into a fancy hotel set her on edge?? What was her story? 

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Johnny blinked and shook his head at Barb before finally turning to answer the still waiting receptionist. With an equally syrupy smile, he stepped forward and leaned on the counter.

"We're going to need a room. Let's just go ahead and rent it by the week. I'll let you know when we're checking out. New in town and trying to close on some property. It might be a while. If that sounds okay, what kind of rooms do you have for us?"

"Ummmm," the receptionist began, her blonde hair bouncing as green eyes perused over the pages. "I have a room on the second floor. It's got a king-sized bed, does that sound okay?"

"Balcony?" Johnny questioned, smiling still.

"Not that one."

"Next available?"

"Okay," she chirped, continuing through the book. "Oh, I have one on the top floor with a balcony. Queen-size bed. And it's a suite."

Johnny nodded. "That'll be the one doll." He pulled a stack of bills and left it on the counter. "That should cover the room for the week, and I'm sure a meal or two for you and your family." He nodded to the ring on her finger and winked. "Have the key on the counter for me when I come back in. Oh, and go ahead and send a menu up to the room. We'll be ordering in after our long drive..."

Johnny took the cart left by the hop and threw his other arm over Barb's shoulder to direct her back out to the car. "You okay, doll? You're lookin' a little shook. Drive finally catchin' up to ya?" The cool breeze slapped them in the face as Johnny pushed the door open and exited the hotel. "Is this still a little too ritzy for ya? It's a lot less flashy and much cheaper than the other place..."

He opened the door and started loading up their luggage on the cart, occasionally glancing at her as she spoke...

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Despite her discomfort, Barb had to suppress a slight giggle as Johnny worked over the receptionist. She couldn’t quite place the feeling or the reason, but something about it tickled her. Fitting herself comfortably under his arm, Barb allowed herself to be guided back out into the cold. 

“I’m fine,” she assured him with surprisingly clarity, “Everything is fine.” 

Sliding around to the opposite door, she hurriedly loaded her own suitcase onto the cart. Managing to maneuver around him with surprising ease as she artfully split the work. In a matter of moments, the cart was loaded and - somewhat to her chagrin - they were headed back into the hotel. 

Sure enough, the key was waiting on the desk, the receptionist nowhere in sight... which only set Barbara on edge again. Navigating her smoothly to the elevator, Johnny selected the button for the fourth floor, watching in inquisitive curiosity as Barb visibly tensed at the motion of the machine. Her casual grip around his waist tightened to a comfort seeking squeeze as she pressed her back against the hard wood of the small cubicle. “I fucking hate elevators,” was all she said as he quirked a brow, her knuckles white as she gripped his belt. 

The ride up seemed an eternity to the petite brunette, every jerk and creak causing her to flinch and grumble. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, pushed away as far as she could shove it, an awful memory was playing on repeat like a broken movie reel. And nothing, not even John’s lighthearted presence at her side could make the ride end quickly enough. Thankfully, with one final lurch, the doors slid open with a vibrant ‘ding’ and she was released from the bowels of hell into a plushly carpeted hallway of well-spaced chestnut doors and gleaming city windows. It seemed the top floor was all suites, lined like townhomes down the building and with as much space. 

Pulling their cart up to the farthest corner room, Johnny grinned as the key clicked in the lock, the heavy door hissing softly along the thick carpet as it opened on a sumptuous balcony suite dressed in rich tones of green and gold. A fire flickered in the fireplace on the far wall, casting dancing lights over the polished wood arches and pillars, making the embossed damask wallpaper shimmer in tones of creme and vanilla, and allowing the smooth drapes to flutter lightly in the cool breeze of the open balcony. Atop the bed, two plush embroidered robes awaited with box of chocolate. And the adjacent desk already bore the ‘special service’ menu, flanked by a humidor and two champagne flutes; a complementary bottle crowning the arrangement carefully nested in a full bin of ice. 

Suddenly, whatever had been bothering her seemed to melt away as Barb veritably squealed with delight... silently. She squealed silently. Slowly rushing into the room, her fingers traced the wood accents and upholstery patterns as if finger-painting a half-remembered dream. Smiling over her shoulder, she slid her hands along the silken drapes like a man admiring a fine car, with all the caressing appreciation of a ‘baby I’ve missed you’ moment. Kicking her shoes to one side of the bed, she twirled on the spot as she dug her toes into the fluffy carpet, hugging a throw pillow to h er chest with a sigh. “It’s like sleeping on money, Johnny,” she grinned, coaxing him in. 

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Smiling at the delight of watching Barb, Johnny waited at the door. Her invitation a silent, coquettish one; even if she didn't mean it as such. Smirking, he finally dragged the luggage in and kicked his shoes at the door. A few steps had him on the lush carpet and smiling.

"Ohhhh yeah. It's like back in Vegas and living the high life, baby!" He reached for her hand and spun her around as she took his, "One day you'll have to explain, but I'm not going to ruin a momentous occasion for ya, doll." Continuing to twirl her around, he finally let her go to have her sprawling across the bed with a chuckle. "But for now!" Johnny exclaimed as he practically glided to the opposite side of the bed. "Drinks, cigars, food, and counting our winnings, yeah?" He tossed the cigar box from the bank toward her, the box falling open as stacks of bills tumbled from it. "How's that look for a payoff?"

He chuckled and uncorked the bottle, pouring two glasses and setting them on the table. Following suit, the humidor was cracked and the rich aroma of things far too expensive filled the air. Johnny inhaled deeply, running one of the cigars beneath his nose; eyes rolling back just slightly. "UGH! It smells like heaven, Barb! Have one!"

He turned to see her staring at the money and everything else in the room. "What's up, doll?" he asked, frozen in place as he held the uncut cigar out toward her...

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The brief respite Barb had enjoyed upon entering the room quickly dissolved into a slow stealing soul-freezing dread mid-spin. Despite Johnny’s assurance that he ‘wouldn’t ruin the moment’, his prying half-question did just that. She wasn’t even abler to enjoy the fluid precision with which he cast her onto the bed... the almost-cheesy smoothness, which would normally have made her blush at her own melting warmth and begrudging ‘easiness’, lost in the wave of clutching apprehension that his insistence incited. 

Her fingers numbly traced the face of a hundred dollar bill as her eyes, unblinking, traced the room with a bittersweet and longing kind of nostalgia. His voice, as he offered the cigar, drew her gaze slowly toward his outstretched hand. A sad kind of smile tickled the very corner of lips with just the slightest hint of a twitch. For a moment, she eyed him like weighing a heavy decision. The voices in her head at war between telling him everything or passing it off. 

On one hand, they were already as far in as two people could be. If he betrayed her, it could go just as poorly for him. And, she thought, if he meant to kill her, certainly he would have done so by now. On the other hand, it was always safer to keep your mouth shut... for both parties. He already carried enough of her crimes and secrets. He certainly didn’t need any more. Not when what she had to say paled in comparison to what he already knew. No. If he was as kind as he seemed, then he deserved to be spared the weight and responsibility of that knowledge. It was her burden. Hers alone. 

And so it would stay. 

Smirking, she stood from the bed with a half-transparent shake of her head. She was smiling and playing it off, sure. But he’d know - she knew he’d know - there was still something stirring underneath. “What’s up,” she teased, taking the cigar from him, “Is ain’t no girl able ta smoke an uncut cigar. No matta how good she is at suckin’.” Sliding past him, she reached into the humidor and retrieved the punch and cutter, setting them out on the table before shoving him aside. Running the cigar lightly under her nose, she shook her head with a disdainful sneeze. “I expected better a yas, Johnny,” she teased, shaking the cigar at him like a child in trouble. “Ya can’t go playin’ high roller an’ then offer yer girl a low ballin’ Clear Havana. Shame on you!” Hooping his nose with the tightly rolled log, she tossed it flippantly back into the humidor before pulling out a smaller, fatter choice and a slim-line handrolled beauty. “Now... I don’t expect yas average N’Orlans boy ta understand the nuance of a good smoke. But... ifs yas gonna play it big, then yas gotta know,” she paused, holding up her prizes, “Any REAL high roller’s gonna go for the Cubans. Every time.” 

Handing him each of her choices in turn, she continued, “La Coronas and La Palinas are easy enough ta come by, seein’ as they’re American accessible in both import and price point. And the Pali’s age like fiiiine wiiine,” she kissed her fingers like an Italian grandma, savoring the scent and aromatic flavor of the unlit tobacco. “BUT, ifs yas really wanna primo experience, reach for a Montecristo or a Romeo.” Turning back to the humidor, she smiled as she sifted through the rest of the box, “Now tha hotel can get aways with ballin’ ‘em all together, cuz yas average bloke ain’t gonna know any better. An’ just reach for whatever’s on top thinkin’ they’s all tha same. But, you... you know better. An’ ya’d be surprised the doors that knowledge can open when we’s in tha right company.” 

Sliding the slimmer hand-rolled cigar from it’s cellophane packaging, she carefully trimmed the very tip before rolling it over and cleanly punching the butt. The patter of her soft feet across the plush carpet carried her quickly toward the balcony door, which she propped slightly ajar; the thick golden drapes shimmering like late evening sunlight as the fluttered in the Eastern breeze. Smiling like a stoner hitting their first blunt of the Barb sauntered and sashayed her way back to Johnny with a long, soft drag; luxuriating in the warm mouth feel and deep flavour before exhaling toward the balcony. Holding the lit cigar out to him, she almost twinkled a bit as nudged him. “Try that, Docinho. It’ll change your life.” 

 

Leaving him to his experience, she slinked her way wordlessly to the bathroom, robe in one hand and paperwork in the other. Through the open door, the powdery scent of Channel drifted into the room on a wave of humid steam as the sound of running water echoed from what Johnny could only imagine must be the tub. A soft chuckling groan echoed through the door as Barb slid into the enveloping warmth of the water, sinking up to her neck in perfumed bubbles. Smiling, she noted that - partly due to her petite stature, but nonetheless wonderful - the deep claw-footed tub managed to cover both her knees and her chest. 

Unaware of her own self-content humming, barb lifted a single spliff from her coat pocket and - comfortably absorbed in her steaming bath - began to analyze the contracts, forms, and documents from their caper. To her chagrin, the stipulations of the will seemed to indicate that her part in this endeavor would be even more complicated than it had already become. But, momentarily distracted by the fleeting luxury of her surroundings, she found it increasingly difficult to apply herself any further in the moment. Tossing the paper aside with a ruffling sigh, she called out to the adjoining room, “ ‘Ey Johnny,” her voice lilted up with a beckoning, not-so-sneaky tone, “Didja plan on doin’ anymore business tonight or are we’s down I ta tha ‘pleasure’ part?” 

She was silent for a moment before the full range of possible answers to that - unintentionally euphemistic - question lighted in her weed-fogged brain, a sloshing gasp quickly following. “I mean... I mean do I have to WORK anymore or can I relax,” she called again, quick to refute her inadvertent innuendo... however successfully. “Yas got some bits a tha will here that we’s didn’t account for. D’jya wanna tackle that now??” She added, spiraling into a sharp CYA maneuver. “OR maybe later,” she added, the hopeful tone apparent in her voice as she settled back down into the tub with a soft grunt, “Y’know... in tha morning?”

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Johnny was still stunned by her cigar knowledge. He should have known, but to her credit, she was constantly full of surprises for him. That was a good thing. He'd of course known about the cigars, but really hadn't imagined she would; another layer to peel back for another time. His mind wandered as she made her way to the bathroom, the sound of water running and the fragrant scent filling the air making him smile to himself. She was an enigma, an egg that he so desperately wanted to crack and explore. But, she was stubbornly independent and protective of whatever past she was hiding that had to do with... Here. The metaphorical here; not this place, but one like it in her past.

Johnny was so deep in his head he hadn't even heard her blunder, barely being pulled back to reality by the sound of her voice. "Morning's fine!" he called back to her. "You deserve tha relaxation, love."

It was a moment before she heard him stammer, "Er, yeah. Ya know what I mean, doll." He chuckled nervously before raising himself from the bed and moving closer to the door of the bathroom. Resting his back against the frame, his shoulder knocking the door open ever so slightly more, Johnny leveled his gaze on the open balcony door. At least he wasn't trying to steal a glimpse of her in the tub.

"Whatever it is, Barb, forget about it, yeah? You ain't gotta tell me nothin' ya don't wanna. But if ya ever do? I'm here. I ain't afraid'a no skeletons or monsters in ya closet." He stuck his cigar in his mouth, unlit, and chewed absentmindedly on the end of it for a bit before shoving himself off of the doorframe and making his way back to the desk to look over the menu.

"You hungry? They got a lot'a stuff on this menu sounds good. I'm thinkin' tha roast beef sandwich with that Ah Jew sauce or whatever they call it." He smirked, hoping to get a giggle out her. Hope was the big word... He knew he'd unintentionally set her off saying she'd need to explain. He'd seen it in her face the moment the words left his mouth. Whatever it was, it was big and unpleasant as a memory... All he hoped for, was bringing her back out of the mask and to be her genuine, happy self again. He smiled thinking about it. He enjoyed that Barb. She was fire, ice, and all the chemical reactions between the two. Then again, even when she was being guarded and protecting her raw feelings, he still found her presence quite enjoyable. Huffing quietly to himself, he looked toward the bathroom door as he waited for her answer.

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Barb didn’t seem to mind his presence at the door, hardly even lowering her gaze from the tiled ceiling when it had creaked beneath his weight. Sighing softly, she shifted as he moved away; her breath heavy and wordless. “Sweet, soft Southern heart... the bayou just ain’t got swamps enough ta hide from tha giants I’m runnin’ from,” she mumbled EVER so quietly. 

Perking up a bit, she sat up and leaned toward the door, calling back, “Do theys got any seafood? I’d KILL for some kalamari... or Cod... or something with sardines.” “And a good port or espu... ahhhh... ‘sparkling wine’, if they have it,” she followed, choosing the words carefully. 

“Just bring me the menu,” she finally quipped, settling back into the tub in a ‘poofing’ shower of dancing bubbles. “Besides, ain’tchyas gonna shower before dinner or some shit?” 

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Johnny chuckled as he thumbed the menu around and stared at the seafood portion. They did, in fact, have seafood. They had Calamari, and a Halibut sandwich, fresh blackened fish, and a few other dishes that were more uppity. This time, paying no heed to the lewdness of her bubble bath, Johnny waltzed right into the bathroom and held the menu out to her. If they were going to be partners, they would both have to get over the idea of modesty. Seemingly it was -him- that struggled with it the most. He was still trying to be that southern, respectable gentleman... The mask which Barb could tell was the only legitimate side to the man's long laundry list of con jobs and personalities.

"Here ya go doll," he grinned as she reached up and took the menu. "Whatever ya want, it's on me." He winked with a chuckle and spun to walk out, pausing and looking over his shoulder... "Sorta..." he added playfully, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

"I'll order then I'll shower. If ya don't mind, that is, seein' as you're still loungin' in tha tub." He sat down in one of the chairs of the room, still chewing on the end of his cigar as he plopped his feet up. "Lemme know when you decide what ya want and I'll get it ordered."

He'd taken note of the -near- slip in words, but left it be for now. His mind, however, went back to wandering... Espumante... Portuguese? He was pretty certain that was Portuguese. An oddity for certain.

Shaking his head, Johnny refocused on the present and laid his head back. Staring at the ceiling, he chuckled. "What a day," he sighed out softly, gripping his stomach as it gurgled and growled from lack of substance. "What. A. Day..." he repeated and closed his eyes while she studied the menu in the other room.

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Barb rolled her eyes as Johnny held the menu out, her curls bouncing lightly with the shake of her head as she watched his gaze dance any and everywhere except for the tub. Even playing a front he couldn’t bring himself to look at her directly. And she simply didn’t understand. Sure, BENEATH the bubbles she was bare, but the deep tub literally covered her from the neck down. Everything was covered. Not a bit a of ‘bits’ showing. So in her mind she was no more naked than when wearing clothes. Yet, the way he acted... and he WAS acting, she could tell... it was as if she was laying spread-legged on silk sheets. She didn’t get it. He was from VEGAS for fucks’ sake... show girl HEAVEN. Wasn’t he used to skin just being part of the norm? And before that he was raised in NOLA, no less... sin city of the south. How could his upbringing possibly have been THAT puritanical?? 

Glancing over the menu she was tickled to find a few very fine options to sate her homesick longings. Exhaling a thick plume of smoke, she called back to him softly, “I’m thinkin’ tha prawns and lobster... with a side a bouillabaisse and calamari. And... um... a quartino of moscato, I suppose.” There was a gentle ruffling as she tossed the now semi-damp menu to the floor, her gaze returning to the ceiling with a soft sigh. She missed bathtubs. Maybe if this all worked out, she’d buy herself one. ...maybe. Curling to one side, she rested her cheek on the edge of the warm porcelain as she continued, “I can gets out if ya want. So’s yas can shower in comfort.” The tone of her voice clearly said she REALLY didn’t want to. But she’d had her moment of relaxation, however brief. And it was only fair that he had the same. It had been an immensely long day for both of them, after all. 

“I don’t mind either way. Ya’s ain’t got nothin’ I ain’t seen before,” she teased lightly, the liquid sound of her movement sloshing through the other room as she begrudgingly pried herself form the warm embrace of her watery paradise. She really didn’t mind... especially given that he was a sweet wight for sore eyes compared to most she’d seen. But she knew, no matter how he tried to hide it, that he was far more modest than that. And giving him his privacy was the least that she could do. Wiggling her toes into the padded bath mat, she carefully liberated the menagerie of Knick-knacks tucked into her messy curls... several pens, a charcoal pencil, a rusted pen knife... followed closely by a cascade of Bobby pins. Each curio removed loosed more of her medusoid curls, until - like a waterfall - the tumbled from their tightly wound prison into a curtain of soft ringlets. Shaking the last of  the inevitably lost Bobby pins to the floor, she slipped into the luxuriously thick and fluffy robe before tiptoeing into the main room. 

“All yours,” she cooed, tugging the delightful fabric tight around her neck... suddenly more self-conscious than usual. It was quirkily odd, and entirely irrational, she knew. But there was something about being seen with her hair down - literally - that always made her feel more bare than nudity. Though, staring at the Godiva-esque tresses, Johnny had to wonder why she kept them so tightly and messily tucked away. 

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Hanging up the phone with a smile, Johnny started, "Dinner's on the w-" He paused as his lips parted, no sound coming out aside from the gasp as he stared at her. It was a split second, but long enough for her to notice, before he was able to recover. "-ay." Blinking, he regained his smile quickly and shook his head.

"Damn Barbara. Thought I was starin' at royalty for a second there." He chuckled lightly as he turned away, then paused again and turned back with narrowed eyes. "Am I starin' at royalty here? Cause, I mean, if I'm honest? That wouldn't surprise me a bit Miss Espumante." He snickered lightly, practically hopping towards the shower.

"Ya know I don't mind if you stay in the tub, right? You deserve to relax all ya can, doll." His finger trailed over her cheek as he passed by her, tugging his tie free with his other hand and tossing it over her shoulder. "Just know, I'll probably be lookin'. 'Sa only reason I'm tryin' ta leave ya to privacy. Be respectful and shit. It's not like you're one'a tha call girls or dancers on tha strip, ya know? Your someone special." Again with the pause as he shrugged his shirt off.

"Not that they ain't special, ya know? But they ain't special to me like you are. I mean... YA KNOW WHAT!" He chuckled out, a little louder and obviously flustered and backpeddling... Which was sooooooo out of character for Johnny.

"I'm just gonna shut up and stop talkin', yeah? Get back in the tub." He dropped his trousers and undergarments to the floor and stepped into the shower. "IF ya want, I mean. I ain't TELLIN' ya to, but ya can. Not going to bother me any."

The water hissed and sputtered as the air knocked out of the line and the showerhead kicked on, Barb able to hear Johnny quietly chastising himself and cursing himself for not shutting the FUCK UP when he was ahead.

"ANYWAYS!" he called over the noise of the water. "What I was tryin' ta say? You should wear your hair down more often, doll... It looks -real- good on ya." There he was. Back to the smooth as "buttah" Johnny. Not whatever freak-sideshow bumbling idiot was in the living room moments before.

"I like it a lot."

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Whatever flattery or fondness she might have felt at his gasp, evaporated like tears on the sun as he joked about royalty. He didn’t seem to notice, too flustered by his own ramblings. But Barb froze, wild eyed and suspicious; flinching as if she might be struck when he caressed her cheek. Trembling, she tried to will herself to move... to BREATHE... to do anything other than shake and cry. 

She’d been so careful. She’s ALWAYS been SO CAREFUL. How had this happened? How had she LET this happen? Who was it? Which group? For what? Death? Ransom? Leverage??

Fears and questions spiraled silently out of control as the buzz of his voice continued to twitter like The Peanuts behind her; a monotonous, incomprehensible parade of nonsensical syllables, unable to pierce her paralyzed consciousness ness with any sense of ENGLISH. She heard the shower. Her heart sank. Water washed evidence away. Was that what the tub was for? 

How? 

Was it the champagne? The cigar? Or was he more hands on? No... no surely he had to be the sneaky type. But he’d poured from the same bottle and smoked the same cigar. She watched him. Antidote? Maybe there was an antidote. Or was she meant to smoke the Havana he’d picked. Maybe he missed because she was too picky? 

Suddenly it was as if her brain turned on again, and with it, her feet. Rushing to the table, she checked his glass - empty... they were both empty. Either he’d finished hers or tossed it. One of the two. Rummaging through the humidor, she checked every single cigar meticulously. No holes, no cuts, not signs of tampering at all. Sliding to her knees she riffled through his suitcase. No lock. Just clothes and drugs... pot mostly, but a few bottles of pills. Maybe the pills? It would be easy enough to explain, but there were hardly enough. THE GUN!

Whirling around, Barb sighed softly. His pistol was still in its holster, draped haphazardly across the desk chair. Were that his plan, he’d done a piss poor job at hiding it. And why go through all THIS? He could easily have simply left her cold at George’s place and no one would have questioned it.  So what was the point? Was he framing the circumstances? Who would that serve? Her uncle? Salazar? The Republicans? WHICH Republicans?

Her fear was such that she couldn’t - not for a single second - even conceptualize that it might have been a lucky guess. No. No, no... he had to know something, want something, be planning SOMETHING. With one simple, clueless joke, he’d obliterated any safety or comfort he’d previously been for her. ‘You’re someone special,’ the words echoed in her mind, sliding into the pit of her stomach like sour ice. No. He knew. He had to know. And he was toying with her. Like cat playing with a captured mouse. 

Desperate, angry, lonely, rageful tears stung her eyes as she reached for his pistol with trembling fingers. It was almost too large for her hands... bulky and unwieldy as she struggled, through her quaking, to cock the hammer.  It was heavier than she’d imagined. And it took both hands to hold steady... or at least as steady as she could in her state. Setting her jaw, she pushed her self up from the floor and made her way silently to the shower. 

She could see through the frosted glass door that his back was turned, face turned into the water as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. Trails of suds slithered down the walls like shadows on the snow in winter. And for just a moment, she paused. Could she really shoot an unarmed man in the back? She’d done George, sure... but he was already dying. Johnny was... JOHNNY. 

Her grip on the 1911 loosened at the thought, her aim drooping ever so slightly as her courage wavered. 

“Quem é Você?” She asked, her voice shakier and far less confidently demanding than she’d hoped. She sounded like a wounded animal, her tears audible in the quivering timbre of her lilting language. “Who are you,” she repeated in crystalline English, more forceful this time but still just as hurting. “Who sent you? What do you want?” 

 

The voice that echoed through the glass of the shower sounded nothing like the Barb he knew. The words were heavy and crisp and cleanly accented with a distinct foreignness he’d never heard before. It was like talking to a different person... like the night and day bouncing roundness of his creole roots when they showed through. And if that weren’t enough to freeze him on the spot, the hazel silhouette of her half-raised barrel felt as if the shower had suddenly turned to sleet. What. The. Fuck?

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