Four Brothers
Jul. 22nd, 2009 09:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veiledndarknessTitle: Strays 2/?
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: Bobby/Jack
Rating: R
Summary: What’s it all worth when you’re alone?
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.
Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.
Chapter 1
XX
Bobby nursed a mug of coffee the next morning, his head held in both hands, arms propped up on the desk. He breathed the fumes in, listening with half an ear as Jerry rambled on across the room. He kept his eyes closed and pictured Jack. Bobby's lips twitched at the thought.
The slight tilt of his chin, the hint of defiance and pride and anger in those wide blue eyes...
"You ain't even listenin' to me!"
Bobby opened his eyes reluctantly. "Am so, you're talkin' about Evan. And lower the voice, would ya?"
Jerry snorted. "Hung over, are we?" He sat down in the overstuffed plush chair, eyeing him, "Again?"
"Fuck you."
"I'm all fucked out right now," Jerry smiled. "Camille is somethin' else, I swear, I could marry that girl an' be a very happy man."
Bobby grimaced. "Oh Jesus, Jerry, spare me?" He took a gulp of the steaming hot black coffee. "You don't marry call girls or hookers, you jus' don't."
"You don't even know her, an' don't you dare be calling her a hooker, she ain't peddling her ass on no street corner."
Bobby gulped another mouthful of the coffee. "You pay her though."
"I take care of her! There's a difference. Maybe if you stopped drinkin' and pilling yourself every night, you'd find someone to take care of," Jerry snapped.
"Back off," Bobby set the mug down, his jaw clenched. "What I do, or don't do alone has got nothin' to do with you."
Jerry waited a beat and nodded, backing down. A riled, hung over Bobby Mercer was a dangerous thing to toy with. "Just don't let it interfere with business, yeah?" he said.
Bobby glared at him. "Does it ever?"
He shrugged. "About Evan? I'm gonna stop by an' see him later," he said, changing the subject.
Bobby drained the last of his coffee and nodded, rubbing his thumbs along his temples. "You don't need me for that," he murmured. "I got stuff to do."
"Shipments comin' in tomorrow and got the Sweets to deal with today, then Evan..."
Bobby closed his eyes again, hiding a wince. "Fuck," he whispered. "Yeah, yeah fine."
"Hey, I offered to reschedule, you didn't hafta do it today but now if we call..." Jerry trailed off. He rested his chin to one hand, his arm propped on the chair arm. "It's not gonna look so good."
"What time?"
"Two-ish," Jerry eyed him closely. "You gonna make it?"
Bobby reached down to a lower desk drawer and tugged it open. He took a small bottle out and uncapped it, taking a long swallow of the bitter drink. He wiped his mouth with one hand and nodded. "Yeah...I'm fine."
x
Jack spent the better part of an hour hesitating and fidgeting at the end of the sidewalk. He stared up at the imposing black gates in front of him, Bobby's card tucked into his palm. The house was big, and yeah, he'd been expecting something like that, but Christ...He whistled lowly. It was gated, almost completely, the tall fences disappearing behind the house as far as he could see.
He looked to the sides of the main gates, noting the cameras. "Bet those aren't for show," he whispered, keeping a careful distance away from them. He shifted his guitar case in one hand, his fingers stiff from the cold.
The gates suddenly opened, startling him. Jack gasped out a breath and pressed against the brick pillars, his heart pounding. A long, sleek car came through the parted gates, the windows heavily tinted. Jack dry swallowed, willing his heart to stop racing.
The car drove past him, dim sunlight gleaming off of it as it went down the road. Jack stuffed the card back into his pocket. "Damn it..."
"You lost?" a voice boomed nearby.
Jack flinched back another step. "No, I mean, he-he gave me a card and...and, um, never mind," he backed away from the man that stepped around the corner of the pillar from behind the gates, a man nearly as tall as himself, clad in a black jacket and knit cap.
The man eyed him. "Gave ya a card, huh? Let's see it."
"No," Jack drew himself up and pushed his shoulders back. "How do I know you won't rip it up or somethin'?"
To Jack's annoyance, the man looked amused. "You think you're tough, white boy?" he chuckled, giving him a toothy grin. "Oh yeah, you're a tough lil' thing, ain't you? Well I'll tell ya what, you show me the card so I know you ain't lyin', otherwise you got a long walk back to the city."
Jack frowned. "Fine," he grumbled and dug the card back out of his pocket. He held out the card for the man to see, the corners frayed already. "See?"
"Uh huh, I see. Found ya, did he?" the man gave him another once over, smirking a little.
"What?" Jack bristled, certain that he was being insulted. "What the hell do you mean, 'found'?"
The man turned away and dug a pass card out of his coat pocket. He slid it through a metal box attached to the gate, and the gates opened for them. "Nothin', c'mon now," he gestured to the house. "Unless you wanna stay out an' freeze."
Jack watched him for a second, hesitant and unnerved by the house that loomed ahead of them. "I...I dunno..."
The man sighed, "Jesus fuckin'..." he muttered, "Look, he gave ya the card, right? That's not somethin' bad, kid."
"I guess..." Jack gripped the handle of his guitar case and stepped forward, his thin boots crunching over the frozen snow. "He's uh...he's not here, is he?"
"Nah, but he'll be back later," the man pulled a key ring out of his pocket and selected one key, unlocking the large front doors. He pushed the door open, a blast of warmth hitting them both.
Jack bit his lip and stepped over the threshold and into Bobby Mercer's home.
x
The tension was thick on the car ride home. Jerry kept a watchful eye over Bobby. The amount of liquor that man could hold... he sighed inwardly. Bobby stared out the window, a deep frown etched into his skin. New lines had appeared, almost overnight it seemed, deepening the creases on his forehead. He looked worn, exhausted and deeply bitter.
"You want the shipment dropped off with Marshall?" he asked, if only to break the heavy silence.
"Yeah," Bobby muttered, his thumb rubbing along his forefinger, the smooth leather gloves covering his scarred knuckles. He tilted his head for a second and nodded. "Split it four ways, send them to each warehouse an' get 'em ready."
Jerry nodded absently. "Green's been sniffin' around. We might hafta move one of the warehouses, throw him off, yeah?"
"Fuckin' cops," Bobby said. "I'm not in the mood for that shit." He rubbed his thumb faster over his forefinger. "Think they're so fuckin' righteous, half the cops in this town are dirty. A little money goes a long way, don't it, Jer?"
"It does, sure does," Jerry agreed. "Listen an' don't be freakin' out when I say this..."
"Then don't bother speaking."
Jerry sighed. "You need some time off, Boss. You're runnin' on fumes."
Bobby shifted to look at him, his gaze hard. "Jerry, I swear to God, you ain't above bein' replaced."
"Don't freak, just...take a day off, ok? Or two. I can handle Evan, I can handle the shipment. Stay home, man, and sleep or fuck someone, anythin' to take the edge off."
"You lookin' to take over, huh?" Bobby snapped, his hold on his anger quickly fading, "You an' Victor Sweet, huh?"
Jerry winced. "Bobby, calm down, for God's sake. I didn't say that. You know where my loyalty lies an' you still gotta come at me like that? S' real cold, Bobby, really fucking cold."
Bobby grunted and resumed staring out the window. "Don't fuck with me an' you won't ever find yourself facin' my gun."
Several minutes of silence passed by before Jerry spoke in careful tones. "One day, one day off, think about it?"
"Fine," Bobby said in a near whisper. "One day. But if anythin' happens..."
"I'll call ya, I swear," Jerry nodded, relieved. "I'm only lookin' out for you. It ain't healthy..."
"Thanks, Doc," Bobby rolled his eyes. "That your official diagnosis?"
Jerry let out a muted chuckle. "Uh huh, take two an' call me in the morning."
Bobby tugged his gloves off and flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles one by one. "I want a tail put on Evan, clear? Find out where this fuckin' leak started."
"Mhm, will do."
x
Jack set his guitar case down, shivering. The man closed the door behind them, locking it in several places. "Stay here," he nodded to the foyer. "Don't go wanderin', no snoopin', nothin' stupid, kid, ya hear? Or you'll find your ass back in the snow."
Jack flicked an annoyed look at him. "Who are you anyway?"
"Angel," the man shrugged his thick coat off, revealing long muscular arms clad in a tight sweater. "Stay put." With that he left, his boot steps clomping down a long hallway beside the main staircase.
"An' what a sweetie he is," Jack muttered under his breath. He tugged his scarf loose and draped it around his shoulders. He rubbed his hands together, blowing on them gently, working the stiffness out of them.
He looked around the foyer, taking in the solid wood paneling along the doorframe. Jack shook his head. The place smelled of money, sleek and understated in the way that only the truly rich understood. A faint echo caught his ear, very light footsteps coming closer.
Jack peered over his shoulder, spotting a small, wisp of a woman in the doorway twenty feet from him. She kept her gaze on the ground, a veil of dark black hair covering the sides of her face. She held a wicker basket in her arms, piled high with sheets.
He cleared his throat. The woman gasped and stopped short in the hallway, her brown eyes wide with fear. She stared at him, her mouth working soundlessly.
“Uh…hey,” Jack shifted on his feet, “How you doin’?”
She took a step back, her arms shaking. In a whisper, she rambled something, in Spanish, Jack thought absently. She turned and fled the hallway, her hair streaming behind her.
Jack blinked, “Yeah…Nice to meet you too,” he said.
Angel reappeared in the hallway. “That’s Lucy. She don’t talk much,” he said, striding over to Jack. “C’mon, you can wait in his office.”
“She looked fuckin’ terrified,” Jack muttered. He grabbed his guitar case and trudged along behind Angel. “I ain’t gonna do nothing, she doesn’t hafta be scared of me.”
“She’s scared of everything,” Angel led him down the hall, passing door after door. “You’d be too if you lived through her life. In here,” he opened a door finally, bringing him into Bobby’s office.
“Sit,” he pointed to one of the plush chairs in front of the desk. “He’s gonna be here in a bit.”
Jack did so, his back sinking into the soft chair. He set the case by his feet. “He do this often? Hand out cards to people?”
Angel smirked at him. “Does it matter?”
“No…” Jack picked at one of the holes in his jeans. “It’s…don’t you think it’s…I mean, it’s Bobby Mercer, man. He’s like…the biggest, baddest gangster! The fuck is he doin’, offerin’ things?”
A chirp from Angel’s phone distracted him. “He’s got his reasons. You oughta be damn grateful,” he pulled his phone out and fired off a quick text message.
Jack glared at him. “I don’t need no one’s pity, least of all from him.”
“Uh huh,” Angel slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Bobby Mercer, he’s a lotta things, but stupid, he ain’t. I’ll be down the hall if ya need me, kid.”
Jack nearly growled. “It’s Jack!” he called as Angel left the room. “Damn it.”
He hissed out a frustrated breath. “The fuck am I doin’ here?” he ran a hand through his hair, “A mistake, nothin’ but a damned mistake.” He stood up and paced the length of the carpet, unable to sit still another minute.
Jack wandered over to the window eventually and rested his forehead to the glass panes. He watched the snow flakes drifting lazily outside. He sighed, his breath fogging the panes up. With a hint of a smile, Jack dragged his finger through the fog. He hummed as he went, mumbling the words along to the tune in his head.
“…long as I got my plastic Jesus…”
“Billy Idol sure knows his tunes.”
Jack felt heat rush up his neck, color flooding his cheeks. “I…” He dropped his hand. “Um…”
Bobby closed the office door behind him, loosening the top buttons of his dress shirt with one hand. “I gotta admit to bein’ surprised when Angel messaged me about you. I didn’t think you’d show.”
“Yeah well, the winds are colder, an’ the shelters ain’t too comfy,” Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched more into his leather coat. He felt as shabby as all hell, standing in the ridiculously expensive home with Bobby Mercer a mere few feet away.
Bobby nodded. “Ain’t that the truth,” he said. He undid the cuffs to his shirt and walked over to his desk. He sat down in the chair with a muffled sigh. “If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that a cot isn’t anything close to a real bed.”
“You lived in shelters?” Jack blurted and then closed his eyes, embarrassed. “God, I…I’m sorry.”
Bobby shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” He nodded to the chairs in front of him. “Sit down, Jack.”
He did so, pinned under the intensity of Bobby’s gaze. “I…I don’t know why I came here, but…”
“But you don’t understand?” Bobby guessed.
Jack nodded. “Yeah…”
“I don’t need a reason to help someone, do I?” Bobby looked almost amused, his lips curving upwards.
Jack studied him in return, taking in the furrowed forehead, as though he was frowning most of the time. Bobby’s hair was slicked back, as dark as his eyes, neat facial hair lining his chin. “No, but nowadays you don’t find too many people throwin’ help away.”
“Maybe that’s the problem with the way things are now,” Bobby rested his hands on the desk, “Too many people not givin’ a fuck.”
“Ain’t it somethin’ when only the gangsters help out, huh?” Jack snapped. He groaned inwardly, wishing he could take the words back. “Shit…I mean…”
Bobby’s jaw clenched for a second. “I didn’t force you here. I gave you an option. Door’s still open if you wanna leave, Jack.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack looked down, more than a little unnerved, “Lettin’ my mouth run again.” He felt dim heat creep higher up his cheeks. “What do you want from me?”
“What do you think?”
Jack’s eyes flashed, a furious burst of anger gleaming in his bright blue eyes. “I’m not a fucking prostitute!” he spat at him. “Not some whore, and no, I ain’t even close to being that desperate. I’d rather starve an’ freeze.”
Bobby let the silence hang in the air, the almost smile appearing then. “I didn’t say that,” he murmured. “I don’t expect sex from you, Jack.”
“Call it a perk an’ it’s still the same thing. I don’t fuck for food or shelter!” Jack stood up, his hands shaking. “I don’t give a damn who you are!”
“You’d be the first one to not be afraid of me,” Bobby flashed the smallest smile. “Sit down; I already said I don’t expect anything sexually.”
Jack sat down with an indignant huff. He fumbled with his coat and dug out a package of cigarettes. “You mind if I have one?” he asked.
“Go ahead.” Bobby sat back in his chair, deeply amused by the young man. “You’re very interesting.”
Jack fished about for his lighter, a cigarette clamped between his lips. “That a good thing?”
Bobby nodded. “I think so. I liked hearin’ you play. It was…something else. “
Jack lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, the smoke calming his rattled nerves. “Thanks.”
“Look, I know you’re freaked, but you don’t need to be. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Jack held the cigarette between two fingers. He exhaled a quick breath and nodded. “Yeah…Yeah, I kinda figured. But…”
“But what do I want?” Bobby shifted, drumming his fingers on the desk. “I really don’t know. But when I saw you playin’, I had to stop an’ listen. And….for one second, I wasn’t thinkin’, I was just listening and everything was better for that couple of minutes.”
Jack licked his lips, nervous despite his bravado. “Music makes me feel the same.”
Bobby nodded solemnly. “Right, so maybe that’s my reason. But you know something? I’m real glad you came here.”
Jack offered him a tentative smile. “Yeah…Yeah I think I am too.”
X
Author: veiledndarkness
Pairing: Bobby/Jack
Rating: R
Summary: What’s it all worth when you’re alone?
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit made and no harm intended.
Notes: AU, the brothers were not raised together by Evelyn.
Chapter 1
XX
Bobby nursed a mug of coffee the next morning, his head held in both hands, arms propped up on the desk. He breathed the fumes in, listening with half an ear as Jerry rambled on across the room. He kept his eyes closed and pictured Jack. Bobby's lips twitched at the thought.
The slight tilt of his chin, the hint of defiance and pride and anger in those wide blue eyes...
"You ain't even listenin' to me!"
Bobby opened his eyes reluctantly. "Am so, you're talkin' about Evan. And lower the voice, would ya?"
Jerry snorted. "Hung over, are we?" He sat down in the overstuffed plush chair, eyeing him, "Again?"
"Fuck you."
"I'm all fucked out right now," Jerry smiled. "Camille is somethin' else, I swear, I could marry that girl an' be a very happy man."
Bobby grimaced. "Oh Jesus, Jerry, spare me?" He took a gulp of the steaming hot black coffee. "You don't marry call girls or hookers, you jus' don't."
"You don't even know her, an' don't you dare be calling her a hooker, she ain't peddling her ass on no street corner."
Bobby gulped another mouthful of the coffee. "You pay her though."
"I take care of her! There's a difference. Maybe if you stopped drinkin' and pilling yourself every night, you'd find someone to take care of," Jerry snapped.
"Back off," Bobby set the mug down, his jaw clenched. "What I do, or don't do alone has got nothin' to do with you."
Jerry waited a beat and nodded, backing down. A riled, hung over Bobby Mercer was a dangerous thing to toy with. "Just don't let it interfere with business, yeah?" he said.
Bobby glared at him. "Does it ever?"
He shrugged. "About Evan? I'm gonna stop by an' see him later," he said, changing the subject.
Bobby drained the last of his coffee and nodded, rubbing his thumbs along his temples. "You don't need me for that," he murmured. "I got stuff to do."
"Shipments comin' in tomorrow and got the Sweets to deal with today, then Evan..."
Bobby closed his eyes again, hiding a wince. "Fuck," he whispered. "Yeah, yeah fine."
"Hey, I offered to reschedule, you didn't hafta do it today but now if we call..." Jerry trailed off. He rested his chin to one hand, his arm propped on the chair arm. "It's not gonna look so good."
"What time?"
"Two-ish," Jerry eyed him closely. "You gonna make it?"
Bobby reached down to a lower desk drawer and tugged it open. He took a small bottle out and uncapped it, taking a long swallow of the bitter drink. He wiped his mouth with one hand and nodded. "Yeah...I'm fine."
x
Jack spent the better part of an hour hesitating and fidgeting at the end of the sidewalk. He stared up at the imposing black gates in front of him, Bobby's card tucked into his palm. The house was big, and yeah, he'd been expecting something like that, but Christ...He whistled lowly. It was gated, almost completely, the tall fences disappearing behind the house as far as he could see.
He looked to the sides of the main gates, noting the cameras. "Bet those aren't for show," he whispered, keeping a careful distance away from them. He shifted his guitar case in one hand, his fingers stiff from the cold.
The gates suddenly opened, startling him. Jack gasped out a breath and pressed against the brick pillars, his heart pounding. A long, sleek car came through the parted gates, the windows heavily tinted. Jack dry swallowed, willing his heart to stop racing.
The car drove past him, dim sunlight gleaming off of it as it went down the road. Jack stuffed the card back into his pocket. "Damn it..."
"You lost?" a voice boomed nearby.
Jack flinched back another step. "No, I mean, he-he gave me a card and...and, um, never mind," he backed away from the man that stepped around the corner of the pillar from behind the gates, a man nearly as tall as himself, clad in a black jacket and knit cap.
The man eyed him. "Gave ya a card, huh? Let's see it."
"No," Jack drew himself up and pushed his shoulders back. "How do I know you won't rip it up or somethin'?"
To Jack's annoyance, the man looked amused. "You think you're tough, white boy?" he chuckled, giving him a toothy grin. "Oh yeah, you're a tough lil' thing, ain't you? Well I'll tell ya what, you show me the card so I know you ain't lyin', otherwise you got a long walk back to the city."
Jack frowned. "Fine," he grumbled and dug the card back out of his pocket. He held out the card for the man to see, the corners frayed already. "See?"
"Uh huh, I see. Found ya, did he?" the man gave him another once over, smirking a little.
"What?" Jack bristled, certain that he was being insulted. "What the hell do you mean, 'found'?"
The man turned away and dug a pass card out of his coat pocket. He slid it through a metal box attached to the gate, and the gates opened for them. "Nothin', c'mon now," he gestured to the house. "Unless you wanna stay out an' freeze."
Jack watched him for a second, hesitant and unnerved by the house that loomed ahead of them. "I...I dunno..."
The man sighed, "Jesus fuckin'..." he muttered, "Look, he gave ya the card, right? That's not somethin' bad, kid."
"I guess..." Jack gripped the handle of his guitar case and stepped forward, his thin boots crunching over the frozen snow. "He's uh...he's not here, is he?"
"Nah, but he'll be back later," the man pulled a key ring out of his pocket and selected one key, unlocking the large front doors. He pushed the door open, a blast of warmth hitting them both.
Jack bit his lip and stepped over the threshold and into Bobby Mercer's home.
x
The tension was thick on the car ride home. Jerry kept a watchful eye over Bobby. The amount of liquor that man could hold... he sighed inwardly. Bobby stared out the window, a deep frown etched into his skin. New lines had appeared, almost overnight it seemed, deepening the creases on his forehead. He looked worn, exhausted and deeply bitter.
"You want the shipment dropped off with Marshall?" he asked, if only to break the heavy silence.
"Yeah," Bobby muttered, his thumb rubbing along his forefinger, the smooth leather gloves covering his scarred knuckles. He tilted his head for a second and nodded. "Split it four ways, send them to each warehouse an' get 'em ready."
Jerry nodded absently. "Green's been sniffin' around. We might hafta move one of the warehouses, throw him off, yeah?"
"Fuckin' cops," Bobby said. "I'm not in the mood for that shit." He rubbed his thumb faster over his forefinger. "Think they're so fuckin' righteous, half the cops in this town are dirty. A little money goes a long way, don't it, Jer?"
"It does, sure does," Jerry agreed. "Listen an' don't be freakin' out when I say this..."
"Then don't bother speaking."
Jerry sighed. "You need some time off, Boss. You're runnin' on fumes."
Bobby shifted to look at him, his gaze hard. "Jerry, I swear to God, you ain't above bein' replaced."
"Don't freak, just...take a day off, ok? Or two. I can handle Evan, I can handle the shipment. Stay home, man, and sleep or fuck someone, anythin' to take the edge off."
"You lookin' to take over, huh?" Bobby snapped, his hold on his anger quickly fading, "You an' Victor Sweet, huh?"
Jerry winced. "Bobby, calm down, for God's sake. I didn't say that. You know where my loyalty lies an' you still gotta come at me like that? S' real cold, Bobby, really fucking cold."
Bobby grunted and resumed staring out the window. "Don't fuck with me an' you won't ever find yourself facin' my gun."
Several minutes of silence passed by before Jerry spoke in careful tones. "One day, one day off, think about it?"
"Fine," Bobby said in a near whisper. "One day. But if anythin' happens..."
"I'll call ya, I swear," Jerry nodded, relieved. "I'm only lookin' out for you. It ain't healthy..."
"Thanks, Doc," Bobby rolled his eyes. "That your official diagnosis?"
Jerry let out a muted chuckle. "Uh huh, take two an' call me in the morning."
Bobby tugged his gloves off and flexed his fingers, cracking his knuckles one by one. "I want a tail put on Evan, clear? Find out where this fuckin' leak started."
"Mhm, will do."
x
Jack set his guitar case down, shivering. The man closed the door behind them, locking it in several places. "Stay here," he nodded to the foyer. "Don't go wanderin', no snoopin', nothin' stupid, kid, ya hear? Or you'll find your ass back in the snow."
Jack flicked an annoyed look at him. "Who are you anyway?"
"Angel," the man shrugged his thick coat off, revealing long muscular arms clad in a tight sweater. "Stay put." With that he left, his boot steps clomping down a long hallway beside the main staircase.
"An' what a sweetie he is," Jack muttered under his breath. He tugged his scarf loose and draped it around his shoulders. He rubbed his hands together, blowing on them gently, working the stiffness out of them.
He looked around the foyer, taking in the solid wood paneling along the doorframe. Jack shook his head. The place smelled of money, sleek and understated in the way that only the truly rich understood. A faint echo caught his ear, very light footsteps coming closer.
Jack peered over his shoulder, spotting a small, wisp of a woman in the doorway twenty feet from him. She kept her gaze on the ground, a veil of dark black hair covering the sides of her face. She held a wicker basket in her arms, piled high with sheets.
He cleared his throat. The woman gasped and stopped short in the hallway, her brown eyes wide with fear. She stared at him, her mouth working soundlessly.
“Uh…hey,” Jack shifted on his feet, “How you doin’?”
She took a step back, her arms shaking. In a whisper, she rambled something, in Spanish, Jack thought absently. She turned and fled the hallway, her hair streaming behind her.
Jack blinked, “Yeah…Nice to meet you too,” he said.
Angel reappeared in the hallway. “That’s Lucy. She don’t talk much,” he said, striding over to Jack. “C’mon, you can wait in his office.”
“She looked fuckin’ terrified,” Jack muttered. He grabbed his guitar case and trudged along behind Angel. “I ain’t gonna do nothing, she doesn’t hafta be scared of me.”
“She’s scared of everything,” Angel led him down the hall, passing door after door. “You’d be too if you lived through her life. In here,” he opened a door finally, bringing him into Bobby’s office.
“Sit,” he pointed to one of the plush chairs in front of the desk. “He’s gonna be here in a bit.”
Jack did so, his back sinking into the soft chair. He set the case by his feet. “He do this often? Hand out cards to people?”
Angel smirked at him. “Does it matter?”
“No…” Jack picked at one of the holes in his jeans. “It’s…don’t you think it’s…I mean, it’s Bobby Mercer, man. He’s like…the biggest, baddest gangster! The fuck is he doin’, offerin’ things?”
A chirp from Angel’s phone distracted him. “He’s got his reasons. You oughta be damn grateful,” he pulled his phone out and fired off a quick text message.
Jack glared at him. “I don’t need no one’s pity, least of all from him.”
“Uh huh,” Angel slipped the phone back into his pocket. “Bobby Mercer, he’s a lotta things, but stupid, he ain’t. I’ll be down the hall if ya need me, kid.”
Jack nearly growled. “It’s Jack!” he called as Angel left the room. “Damn it.”
He hissed out a frustrated breath. “The fuck am I doin’ here?” he ran a hand through his hair, “A mistake, nothin’ but a damned mistake.” He stood up and paced the length of the carpet, unable to sit still another minute.
Jack wandered over to the window eventually and rested his forehead to the glass panes. He watched the snow flakes drifting lazily outside. He sighed, his breath fogging the panes up. With a hint of a smile, Jack dragged his finger through the fog. He hummed as he went, mumbling the words along to the tune in his head.
“…long as I got my plastic Jesus…”
“Billy Idol sure knows his tunes.”
Jack felt heat rush up his neck, color flooding his cheeks. “I…” He dropped his hand. “Um…”
Bobby closed the office door behind him, loosening the top buttons of his dress shirt with one hand. “I gotta admit to bein’ surprised when Angel messaged me about you. I didn’t think you’d show.”
“Yeah well, the winds are colder, an’ the shelters ain’t too comfy,” Jack stuffed his hands in his pockets and hunched more into his leather coat. He felt as shabby as all hell, standing in the ridiculously expensive home with Bobby Mercer a mere few feet away.
Bobby nodded. “Ain’t that the truth,” he said. He undid the cuffs to his shirt and walked over to his desk. He sat down in the chair with a muffled sigh. “If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that a cot isn’t anything close to a real bed.”
“You lived in shelters?” Jack blurted and then closed his eyes, embarrassed. “God, I…I’m sorry.”
Bobby shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.” He nodded to the chairs in front of him. “Sit down, Jack.”
He did so, pinned under the intensity of Bobby’s gaze. “I…I don’t know why I came here, but…”
“But you don’t understand?” Bobby guessed.
Jack nodded. “Yeah…”
“I don’t need a reason to help someone, do I?” Bobby looked almost amused, his lips curving upwards.
Jack studied him in return, taking in the furrowed forehead, as though he was frowning most of the time. Bobby’s hair was slicked back, as dark as his eyes, neat facial hair lining his chin. “No, but nowadays you don’t find too many people throwin’ help away.”
“Maybe that’s the problem with the way things are now,” Bobby rested his hands on the desk, “Too many people not givin’ a fuck.”
“Ain’t it somethin’ when only the gangsters help out, huh?” Jack snapped. He groaned inwardly, wishing he could take the words back. “Shit…I mean…”
Bobby’s jaw clenched for a second. “I didn’t force you here. I gave you an option. Door’s still open if you wanna leave, Jack.”
“I’m sorry,” Jack looked down, more than a little unnerved, “Lettin’ my mouth run again.” He felt dim heat creep higher up his cheeks. “What do you want from me?”
“What do you think?”
Jack’s eyes flashed, a furious burst of anger gleaming in his bright blue eyes. “I’m not a fucking prostitute!” he spat at him. “Not some whore, and no, I ain’t even close to being that desperate. I’d rather starve an’ freeze.”
Bobby let the silence hang in the air, the almost smile appearing then. “I didn’t say that,” he murmured. “I don’t expect sex from you, Jack.”
“Call it a perk an’ it’s still the same thing. I don’t fuck for food or shelter!” Jack stood up, his hands shaking. “I don’t give a damn who you are!”
“You’d be the first one to not be afraid of me,” Bobby flashed the smallest smile. “Sit down; I already said I don’t expect anything sexually.”
Jack sat down with an indignant huff. He fumbled with his coat and dug out a package of cigarettes. “You mind if I have one?” he asked.
“Go ahead.” Bobby sat back in his chair, deeply amused by the young man. “You’re very interesting.”
Jack fished about for his lighter, a cigarette clamped between his lips. “That a good thing?”
Bobby nodded. “I think so. I liked hearin’ you play. It was…something else. “
Jack lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, the smoke calming his rattled nerves. “Thanks.”
“Look, I know you’re freaked, but you don’t need to be. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Jack held the cigarette between two fingers. He exhaled a quick breath and nodded. “Yeah…Yeah, I kinda figured. But…”
“But what do I want?” Bobby shifted, drumming his fingers on the desk. “I really don’t know. But when I saw you playin’, I had to stop an’ listen. And….for one second, I wasn’t thinkin’, I was just listening and everything was better for that couple of minutes.”
Jack licked his lips, nervous despite his bravado. “Music makes me feel the same.”
Bobby nodded solemnly. “Right, so maybe that’s my reason. But you know something? I’m real glad you came here.”
Jack offered him a tentative smile. “Yeah…Yeah I think I am too.”
X
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Date: 2009-07-23 02:47 am (UTC)Thank goodness for you. Seeing an update makes my days brighter.
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Date: 2009-08-04 12:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-23 05:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 12:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-23 06:16 am (UTC)"A riled, hung over Bobby Mercer was a dangerous thing to toy with." - I really, really, really love this line for some reason. It's just, like... the essence of Bobby, or something like that. It describes him to a T; dangerous, easily riled, not the kind of guy you want to play games with.
Also: Angel finally came into the picture! Awesome. :) I'm looking forward to chapter three!
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Date: 2009-08-04 12:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-24 12:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-04 12:10 am (UTC)Love it!!!
Date: 2009-07-28 12:12 am (UTC)Re: Love it!!!
Date: 2009-08-04 12:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-05 01:47 am (UTC)MORE SOON!
-shadow
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Date: 2009-08-05 01:50 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-05 10:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-08-08 01:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-12-01 09:37 pm (UTC)