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Jake Fenton
Jake Fenton

Aug-19-2005 17:38

<Jake Fenton slammed the door lazily behind him and poured himself a bourbon. No ice. Rather too casually, he slung his jacket and shoulder holster down on the cot in the corner of the room, and slumped tiredly into his chair.

Almost by instinct, he reached to the breast pocket of his shirt and brought a cigar up to his mouth. He chewed off the ends and spat them onto the floor, where the detritus of the last few busy days had been building. What the heck, it was somewhere to lay his head.

His expert fingers flipped the zippo alight, and casually tossed it in the air to light the cigar, before catching and closing it in one movement. He took a sip of the burning liquor, and turned to gaze out of the window at the rain-sodden streets, below. The streets teemed with people, covering their heads with newspaper as they scurry their way home to their wives or off to their mistresses. He found himself idly wondering who they all are, what they all do... What makes them tick...



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cfm
cfm
Nomad

Aug-28-2005 16:42

She was surprised to learn that Rockwell was conducting the orchestra for the evening. He hadn’t said a word, the scoundrel. She had considered staying in her seat through intermission, but sitting still wasn’t her best skill; the agency rarely sent her on stakeouts. Instead she followed the wave of people down the steps, and wandered around the lobby aimlessly. Rock had done an excellent job with the arrangements and she couldn’t wait to find him later that evening to tell him.

She sang a refrain from Josephine’s ballad softly to herself as she watched the faces from the shadows as she stretched her legs. “Sad is the hour when sets the sun….Dark is the night to earth's poor daughters, When to the ark the wearied one flies from the empty waste of waters….” Ruby Kinsella passed her with a cold nod of recognition, and it was all she could do not to burst out in laughter in return.

As the crowd thinned she spotted Madame Giry and Fenton talking in the corner by the bar near an emergency exit. Now, there was a coincidence if she ever saw one. She watched as they exchanged glances, Giry smiling as always and Jake casting his familiar scowl but it was slowly becoming a grin that was making her a bit uneasy. She wondered what those two were up to, and was certain it would be trouble. There was always trouble where Daniella went. She made a note to interrogate her friend later. Giry slipped out the side door and disappeared, leaving Fenton lost in thought as he returned to the bar. There was still a good ten minutes before the next act was set to begin. She just might be able to finally learn a little more about this allusive man. Then again, she might miss the rest of the Opera the way things had been going lately. She decided to take a chance on Jake and meandered through the room to the bar.


cfm
cfm
Nomad

Aug-28-2005 16:43

Fenton was sitting on a stool, with an empty tumbler sitting in front him, a newly lit cigarette dangling from his lips and smoke circling around his head like all the other men and half the women in the bar. She strolled up beside him and slid onto the seat beside him. The bartender approached and she waved him off as she pivoted on the stool, to face Jake. “Hello again detective. I see you’ve come out of hiding. You missed all the action over at Milton’s after the dance.”

Jake Fenton
Jake Fenton

Aug-29-2005 04:18

Jake was disturbed from his reverie when the impish Madame Giry appeared out of nowhere. He grudgingly accepted the brown paper bag with his 'compensation' for the previous night's debacle and tucked it in his breast pocket without opening it. He shook hands with her (keep your friends close, and all that...) while silently vowing to keep his lips zipped. "My interests in this Danniella, are strictly personal - and you can make of that whatever you want...", his deep baritone purred pianissimo behind the grin that was meant for the casual observer. Giry turned and left through the front door. He had to hand it to her, that girl was ballsy and she'd be back.

"Heh," he let out a cynical chuckle and sat down again. **CLANG**. The bell, calling the audience back to their seats for act two. He hardly noticed the hubbub of the bar dissipate, he'd disappeared somewhere in his imagination, trying to come to terms with the last few moments. He heard her voice singing to him like a siren's call, slowly penetrating the thick fog of his thoughts before he registered the hand gently resting on his shoulder.

<It was CFM. What do you know, first time a hunch has paid off since I arrived in this crummy town. But what a break though. She was sparkling, in the same long gown I glimpsed the night before. I never got a chance to talk to her then. Strange how things turn out...>

Jake cut in, keen to show he hadn't totally missed out on the news. "Shepard was being framed and the feds had just put out a nationwide arrest warrant for him, I know. I called my old pal in San Fran. I'd have cleared that kids name for five hundred lousy bucks, but instead I get knocked out with an umbrella. How d'ya like that, huh?" Jake was amazed at how frank he was being. Normally tight-lipped, he was just letting it all out like some punk rookie. The soft, lilting rhythm of her voice was almost hypnotic.

Jake Fenton
Jake Fenton

Aug-29-2005 04:19


Jake pulled himself back into the moment, and looked intently into CFM's deep, dark eyes. "Say, what's the view like from the balcony? We're missing the action right now..." Jake offered her his arm and a rogueish smile.

Madame Giry
Madame Giry

Aug-29-2005 13:56

"I know.", said cfm. "Know what?", said Fenton curiously. "The plan that you and Giry made. If you were 16% the detective that I was, you'd know by now that Giry and I had a meeting at the Tricky Mister, and to figure out whether you were or were not on the level, we tricked you. Isn't it amazing how easily a trap works? You consented to the deal, and you want nothing more than to make a quick buck. There is no passion, no fire which should be there if you really appreciated this career. Good-bye Mr. Fenton. Enjoy the opera. Bravo." And away she went. But not for long. He was going to find that woman...find her, and love her...

cfm
cfm
Nomad

Aug-29-2005 15:27

She scurried from the bar, through the nearly empty lobby and past the doorman so fast he didn’t even have a chance to open the door. As soon as she was outside, she found the nearest alley and slipped into the shadows, pressing her spine and the back over head into the rough bricks behind her. Tears began to stream down her face followed by heavy sobs from deep in her chest. This is exactly why she didn’t go out in public often, why she was always in a hurry. Not so much because she was busy but because of the people. People made her nervous and nervous made her vulnerable, and vulnerable lead to unpredictable anxiety attacks. She should have stayed in her pool instead of trying to fit into a world she didn’t belong.

She had attacked and insulted Fenton without cause. She’d made up some wild story off the top of her head just to get away from him. Why? She knew why, because he was being kind and a gentleman, and if flipped her out. Fenton was going to turn into a fine detective. He already had his fingers on the pulse of the city and connections on the far coast. The detectives who didn’t take the time to learn their way around, those were the ones who truly had no passion, who were just trying to slide by making a quick buck finding lost car keys and kittens. No, her cruel words would sting; they would have torn her own heart out if someone had said them to her.


cfm
cfm
Nomad

Aug-29-2005 15:28

The moon was nearing a quarter phase and its yellow light spilled on the cold earth at her feet. “GAH! Nice one, cfm.” She wiped at her teary eyes and followed the narrow alleys with looming walls back to the outskirts of town. The stench of the city was strong in the dank passages and she paused to hike her skirt up her thigh far enough to pull her dirk from her garter. She knew what kind of characters lurked here, and the closer she got to Thomas’s the less comfortable she was with her surroundings. She wanted to forget the past few nights, forget Fenton, Giry, Shepard, Shady, all of it, at least long enough to wrap her emotions back into a tight, safe little package again. Her footsteps were taking her to her own awaiting opera house, once she picked the lock, along with her weeping willow, simple pool, and countless memories. She began to hum between sobs without even realizing it; if she hadn’t been in such a crumpled mess it would have been recognizable as “In the Wee Small hours of the morning.” As it was, the only one who would know her whimpers were related to music at all was herself, and maybe Angela.

Jake Fenton
Jake Fenton

Aug-29-2005 18:33

Jake stood wide eyed as he felt the sting of her fingers slapping across his cheek and watched her disappear from the bar the way Giry had gone. He was left stunned. He'd had women walk out on him before, but not when he was being so... charming.

"That's twice in two days now, ya lug," he scolded himself. He ordered himself another beer and went back down to his seat for the second half. Fortunately, there were few people immediately near him - he always hated that shuffle to get past people already seated at the theatre. It also meant he could check the contents of the envelope Giry had given him. There was a lot in there. More than he'd expected. Maybe five grand, and that made him a target. There was no way he was going to relax any more until he got back to his apartment. He finished his beer and went to the men's room before the end. He padded the envelope in tissue to mask its shape and hung it over a loop of string he'd sewn into the inside of his pants for just such an occasion. He wasn't going to get frisked there.

Jake Fenton
Jake Fenton

Aug-29-2005 18:33

It was dark outside. He knew he should get home straight away and fix himself some whisky and hot lemon, but he was restless again. His feet took him into a seedier part of town. Somehow, even amidst all the worst of the dirt and the grime he liked it here - he had a strange notion of honour among the darkest souls in this cesspit. A girl, maybe 17 years old, wearing last year's dress and too much makeup beckoned him over into a doorway. He didn't know what to feel most - pity or anger. He wanted to give her the money. He wanted to give her all of it. She was young, too young to be selling herself so cheaply, he wanted to take her away from it all, or at least give her a way out before it was too late. But it was already too late for her. He knew the make-up was there to hide the bruises from the fists of her partner, or whoever it was that her wages went to. The opium he was feeding her was making her compliant, willing. She'd never be able to use that money, and if she tried she'd probably end up dead.

Jake resisted the temptation to duck into the first gambling den he could find and put all that dough on black. That'd be no different to spending it at the brothels. The money all went the same way. It was all tied up with the mob, la cosa nostra. Those Sicilians seemed to run the show out here, fingers in every pie. Whenever something was going on, these scum seemed to be behind it all.

It was an uneventful walk home and for the first time in a week, Jake was asleep in his bed before midnight.

Makensie Brewer
Makensie Brewer
Super Steeper

Aug-30-2005 08:22

*sits back and eats popcorn at this interesting story*

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