Joshua knelt down beside his personal safe in his office and entered the combination with narrowed eyes. When the door popped open, he peered inside, suddenly dumbstruck. How much did an engagement ring cost, anyway? A lot, right? He had absolutely no idea. Plus, he had to buy a really nice suit to impress Claudia's dad. Fuck. There were so many things to think about, suddenly. They were leaving for New York tomorrow. After that, who knew what would happen?

He took out two stacks of bills and shoved them into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. That would be enough, right? He pondered it some more until someone cleared their throat behind him. He could recognize that cough anywhere.

"Hey, Ed," he said quickly, slamming the door back shut, re-setting the lock.

"What's goin' on, Josh? You takin' out a mortgage or something?"

"More like makin' an investment." Josh smiled and stood up, tucking the money more carefully into his jacket, so nothing happened to it. "Look," he said. "I'm goin' to New York tomorrow to see Claud's family. So I'll be gone a few days. That cool?"

"Yeah, sure, sure. We ain't got much goin' on down here. You're solid." Eddie nodded, pointing vaguely to Josh's jacket. "So why all the cash? Plane fare?"

"That's the least of it. I, um." Josh blinked, looking up at his friend carefully. Somehow, he'd had a bad feeling about telling Eddie the big news. Maybe because Eddie had railed against him dating Claudia for so long. Had always said she was "bad news." Maybe so, but Josh couldn't help falling for her. Hell, he was bad news too. The worst news. Everyone knew it.

"Ed," he said, finally. "Claud and I are-- um. I asked her to marry me."

Eddie blinked, obviously in a bit of shock. "You.. you what?"

"She's carryin' my baby and I love her, so... we're engaged. We're gettin' hitched."

Josh inhaled, a bit disturbed by the look on Eddie's face. It was odd that it would never occur to Eddie that he'd marry Claudia, especially with the baby and all. Granted, they both knew that Josh had never been the marrying type, but.. things changed. People changed, whether other people liked it or not.

Josh shifted uncomfortably in the silence his words had wrought. "Eddie," he finally said, low in volume. "Say something."

"I'm.." Eddie shook his head, trying to clear the fog out. Though he still looked rather dazed, like he'd been punched in the face. "Sorry, I'm just kinda.. surprised. Is all. That's-- hey. That's great news, Josh. Congratulations."

Eddie put out his hand for a shake and Josh took it, with only a hint of confusion. They weren't really handshake friends, they hugged all the time. Where was this coming from? Josh shook with him, though, and faked a smile.

"Yeah," he said, letting him go and adjusting his collar. "I gotta buy the ring before we go. And a suit. Gotta lay it on thick with her old man."

"Yeah, I bet. Have you told Bev yet?"

"Not yet. Don't breathe a word, Ed. I wanna wait until after I come back, just in case.. just in case somethin' happens."

"Like what?"

"Like.. her father hates me and forbids her to marry me? Like they force her to move back home? Like.. they call the mafia and try to get me whacked?" Josh shrugged, leaning his hip against the side of his desk, arms folded across his chest. "I just don't wanna tell her anything until I know for sure it's safe. If I said, 'Hey Ma, I'm gettin' married and havin' a kid,' and then all of a sudden-- I wasn't? She'd just die."

"You still will be," Eddie said quickly. "They ain't gonna keep you two apart. I know they won't, I can feel it."

"Well.. who knows. I guess. Thanks," Josh said. "Look, I gotta go shopping. Take care'a things here for me. I'll call each day to make sure everythin's okay. Promise."

"All right," Eddie said. "Good luck, Josh."

He put out his hand for another shake, but Josh didn't take it. He sighed and rolled his eyes, and murmured, "C'mon, Ed," before pulling in his friend without warning for an embrace. Eddie, caught off guard at first, loosened up enough to return the hug, holding there for a few moments before he let go first.

"See ya," he said.

"Yep. Bye, Ed."

Josh walked out of the office. Behind him, he could hear a few guys walking towards Eddie and asking where Josh was going. "He's goin' to New York for a few days," Eddie said. "He'll be back." Josh rolled his eyes. Eddie could never keep a secret-- though he hadn't told him to keep it quiet, so he couldn't really complain.



Josh whistled as he walked down the street, carrying the fanciest fucking suit he'd ever bought in his life. It was a deep navy blue and fit like a charm. If it didn't impress the dad, it sure as hell would impress the mother. Josh figured all he really needed to do was get in good on one side. The rest was just a matter of chipping at the glacier.

He entered a store he hadn't been to in months, that he only frequented once a year when his mother's birthday rolled around. K & G Jewelers. G, short for Goldman, was standing behind a display case, thumbing through a newspaper. Josh always called him by his first name.

"Hey, Otto."

The guy looked up, a smile emerging right away when he saw Josh walk though the front door. "Hey, London!" he called out. "How's tricks? Is it your mom's birthday already? I could swear it was in May."

"Yeah, no. I need yer help with somethin' else." Josh leaned in close to the counter, so Otto could hear him as he whispered. "I'm lookin' for, ah.. I need to see some engagement rings."

"No shit," Otto drawled. "You're getting married?!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep it under yer hat, old man." Josh winked and glanced at the display cases. "Show me somethin' good. Money's no object."

Otto grinned a bit evilly. "You wanna see the quarter-mil rings, then?"

"Uh. Okay. Money might be an object. Look, you know my price range. Show me what you got."

"Okay." Otto nodded and teetered off, stubby little guy that he was. Josh remembered the last time he was in New York, he'd gotten Claudia that pearl teardrop necklace. That was probably nothing in comparison to this. Maybe he would have to take out a mortgage.

Otto returned soon enough with some plush display cushions, taking the first ring out and showing it to Josh.

"This one's a beaut, London. It's got a round solitaire, one carat, yellow gold."

"Uh, I dunno. It's too.. plain. I want somethin' flashy. But classy, y'know? Not too much sparkle to kill her, just enough."

"Okay, how about this?" Otto held up another round solitaire, in platinum, with two large pear-shaped diamonds on the side. It nearly blinded Josh.

"That's.. too much, I think." He sighed and then noticed another one sitting there that was.. really nice. Very Claudia, he thought. He pointed to it. "Tell me about this one."

"Ah, this one," Otto began, holding the ring up to the light. "This one's an emerald cut, one and a half carats, not counting the side stones. White gold. Very nice."

Josh nodded, kind of entranced by the ring. "What're those little boxy diamonds on the side called? More emerald-cuts?"

"Actually, those are called princess cuts."

Josh grinned. "Princess?" Perfect. Too fucking perfect. He leaned close and whispered to Otto: "I'll take it."

Anthony steadied himself. He glanced over to Ryan, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up. His brow was shining with sweat. Finally, he brought the violin to tuck firmly beneath his chin. The bow arose next.

It was his first performance before a crowd since he was in high school, he and Claudia considered the twin musical prodigies. Anton had made them put on concerts together for the school, something that Anthony always hated. Claudia seemed to enjoy them; she loved playing for other people. Anthony couldn't remember ever finding any joy in it, mostly because Anton wanted him to do it, and at the time, he wanted nothing that his father also wanted.

But now, things were different. It was like a cloud lifting from over his head when his bow crept along the strings and urged out that beautiful, comforting sound. Once he began and got over his initial nerves, Anthony let it flow, playing classic violin pieces as well as music he'd written on his own ages ago. Some improvisation, too. It was suddenly so easy. He kept his eyes closed, swept away in the movement of his own music. When he opened his eyes to take a break, a lot of people clapped. The tip jar beside him was stuffed with bills. He could swear he saw a few twenties in there.

He nodded his appreciation and took the jar with him on his break, sorting out all the bills and shoving them into his pockets outside, near the back entrance. What a great start. It was even better because Keith was off for the night. A hand slapped him on the back, in a friendly fashion.

"Shit, man, that was awesome!"

Anthony looked up and grinned. It was Ryan, of course. The guy was becoming a really great friend, supportive in every way. He appreciated it; he knew he needed friends besides Claudia. Claudia was-- well, he couldn't count on her anymore. Not on her presence, anyway.

"You think so?" he said, a bit shyly.

"Fuck, yeah. You played for forty-five minutes with your eyes closed the entire time. You should've seen Amelia, she was gawking at you. Talking you up to all the customers. I think you really floored her. Hell, you floored everyone. I didn't know you could play like that."

"I haven't, for a while. I guess it just.. came back to me." Anthony shrugged, a blush creeping onto his cheeks. He'd never been proud of his violin skills before. Maybe this was really his calling. It stabbed at him a little to know that Anton might have been right about something. Old habits.

"You were fabulous."

Ryan beamed at him and then offered up a cigarette, which Anthony took with gratitude. They both lit up and stood smoking for a while. Anthony let himself drift off in the warm haze of nicotine before he realized Ryan's arm had slid around his shoulders. He looked over at the dirty blond boy, who was smiling broadly.

"I'm really proud of you, Ant," he said. Softly.

Ryan leaned in close and kissed him on the lips, sweet and quick. Anthony was surprised, but he didn't push him away. His eyes closed involuntarily.

When he realized the kiss was over, he lowered his gaze and felt himself blush again. "Um. Ryan," he said. Ryan squeezed his shoulders a bit and laughed.

"Don't worry, Ant. Just a friendly kiss. I swear."

"Oh. Okay." Anthony nodded and smiled, relieved and yet oddly disappointed. He wondered if that was apparent. Not that he wanted to date Ryan or be anything more than friends, it was just-- well, a guy kissed him. For the first time. And it didn't make him upset. It was... nice. It only affirmed the obvious at this point.

Ryan was talking to him, though he hadn't noticed. He blinked and shook his head.

"What? Sorry, I was kind of spacing."

"I noticed," Ryan said. He laughed and brought his cigarette to his lips. "I just asked if you were okay. If I... y'know, freaked you out."

"Oh, no. You didn't." Anthony scuffed his feet against the asphalt, taking a final drag off his cigarette before throwing it away, half-smoked. He looked directly at Ryan and took a deep breath. Really, really deep. "Ryan, I... I am. I know I am."

Ryan quirked a smile, humoring him. "Am what?"

"Uh. Gay. I'm gay. Or, well-- bisexual. 'Cause I still like women. But. But also, I like..."

He ran his hands through his hair and sighed. Why was this so hard? Luckily, Ryan was there in a moment, scooping him up into a reassuring hug. A hug of acceptance and understanding that Anthony really did need, so very badly. He clutched back, burying his face in his friend's shoulder, feeling the gravity of those words hanging in mid-air, permanently emitted from his mouth. He actually felt lighter inside, though. A lot better. Though something nagged at him, that he'd told someone else before he even told his sister. But Claudia-- who even knew where she was now.

Ryan held him for a while. When he pulled back finally, he looked at Anthony plainly and said, "I'm even more proud now. But Ant? With the utmost respect and all, I just have to say: duh."

Anthony laughed. He supposed it was funny, now that it was easier to breathe and laugh, with that weight off his chest.

"Thanks Ry," he said with a sniffle. "But hey, just-- you're the only person I've told. So, like.. y'know."

"My lips are sealed." Ryan nodded and made the universal gesture of zipping his mouth shut and throwing the key away. "Hey, I gotta get back to my shift. You're coming back inside soon?"

"Yeah, I'll be out in a sec."

"Okay," he said. He opened the back door and then stopped short, glancing at Anthony again. "And you don't have to worry about me, Ant. I know I'm not your type."

He smiled crookedly, a little bewildered. "And how do you know that?"

"I'm not a cowboy."

Ryan shrugged, smiled, and then was gone.



Anthony returned to the penthouse late, carrying his violin case in one hand, his coat in the other. He made a beeline for his bedroom, just wanting to crash so he could know what it was like to be out for a whole day. Or forget that he ever admitted it out loud. Either one. The apartment smelled like Viviene's perfume. He supposed she was staying over for the night.

He'd just pulled off his work shirt when someone knocked at the door. His clock read 2:30 AM. What the hell?

When he opened it, his father was standing there in his robe. He looked really.. exhausted. Stressed. He'd seemed so carefree earlier, too, ranting about paella or whatever.

"Buona notte, Anthony," he said.

"It's morning by now," Anthony said. He looked at Anton with narrowed eyes. "What are you still doing up? Is something wrong?"

"No, ah.. nothing. It's just been a very long day." He fidgeted a moment, a very un-Anton thing to do. "How did your first performance fare? Did you make many tips?"

"Um.. yeah. I did, sure. Look.. Dad." Anthony wrinkled his nose, leaning closer to the doorway. The hallway was pitch black behind Anton, his tired face illuminated only by the lamplight from his own bedroom. "What's going on? It's not like you to be stalking around the house all night. Is.. is Viviene okay?"

"Yes, Viviene's fine. It's, um. About Claudia."

"Claudia?" Anthony blinked in surprise for a moment, both elated to hear his sister's name and also scared shitless that it was said in such a tremulous fashion. Was she in trouble? She'd felt so far away from him lately.. he couldn't even feel her anymore. Had something terrible happened? "What about her?"

"Well, you see, she's..."

Anton looked like he was dying to spit something out, but he was hesitating. He looked at Anthony, right in the eyes, as if he was trying to dig down to the very core of him. It startled him a bit.

"What, Dad?"

"She's-- visiting. In two days," he finally blurted. "She's coming up."

"Oh. Well, hey, that's great."

"And she's bringing that Joshua boy."

"Oh." Anthony made a face, shoulders slumping a bit. Not as good, if he was coming. He'd probably monopolize her completely, just like last time. It was weird that she was even still seeing the guy. Sure, he was, well-- devastatingly handsome. But kind of a jerk, too. "Well, whatever," he said. "That's still good news. Uh. Is that all?"

Anton blinked, looking confused for a moment. Then he nodded briskly.

"Yes, Anthony. That's all."

"Okay, well. Thanks for letting me know. Buona notte."

"Yes, sure. Buona notte."

Anton smiled vaguely before walking away, back to his bedroom. It seemed to Anthony that the smile took all of the strength his father had to muster up.

Something was going on.

He was tired, though. He didn't want to chase Anton down and pester him with questions. Maybe that really was all. Maybe Anton was just nervous about meeting Dia's boyfriend. Anthony closed the door and finished changing, sliding into bed with only his boxers on after he turned off his lamp. He fell asleep thinking of cowboy hat guy, grateful to Ryan for the reminder.

Claudia was in his dreams. They were in a space that he recognized as a hotel room. They stood close to each other, but she kept shoving him back by his shoulders, over and over. Then she tugged on a cord that ran between them, not unlike an umbilical cord. He stumbled and flinched, shutting his eyes in anticipation of a fall. When he opened them again, she was holding a pair of scissors. The cord was cut. She was crying and wailing, louder and louder. When he woke up, he pulled back from his pillow, the case very warm and very damp.

Josh was sleeping. It was three in the afternoon. Rosa still had not come home. Claudia was holding the phone in its cradle, perched on the edge of the living room couch.

She hadn’t been able to shake the concern in Viviene’s voice. She tried as hard as she could, but it was futile. There was something about that woman right now that made Claudia want to pull her in close and confide. Was she crazy to imagine that Viviene would understand how she was feeling?

But what would she say? She hadn’t had a decent conversation with Viviene in nearly a year. In fact most of the time she chose to pretend that Viviene didn’t exist. Now, suddenly it wasn’t a choice.

She dialed the number.




Viviene had not been able to fall asleep after her phone conversation with Claudia. Now more than ever she believed that something was the matter. But she knew she had a flair for the dramatic, so she decided it was best not to tell Anton about her suspicions. Over brunch she had forced herself to eat part of a belgium waffle, and feigned interest in a conversation about the Spanish Inquisition. Anton had seen a documentary on it last night. But on her mind was only Claudia and a sinking feeling in her stomach.

It was afternoon now, and Anton had gone back home. Viviene could find nothing to hold her interest, or at least divert it for a little while. Television was stupid, coffee was unpalatable – even her piano seemed laughable. Her daughter. Her lovely Claudia was in some sort of trouble. She knew it, even if she had been the worst mother she could have been, she loved her children. Probably more fiercely than anyone could suspect.

The phone rang.

She gasped and picked it up immediately.

“Yes?”

Yes? Claudia had to smirk at that. Viviene could be considered quirky by some people she supposed. “It’s Claudia. How are you?”

“…Good. How are you?”

“Viviene… I’m pregnant.”

And Viviene screamed. Hadn’t she suspected something like this? And yet, it sounded like something she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Or maybe she just understood too well.

“Viviene! Oh, god! Are you okay? Stop!”

“I’m sorry, I just… God. I knew something was wrong! I can hear it in your voice! Your voice is pregnant!”

Claudia blinked at that. Paused a moment, and decided to let it go. “It’s going to be… okay, right? It isn’t so awful…?”

“Does the fa—Joshua? Does he know?”

“Yes. He is happy, Viviene, he’s… he’s asked me to marry him.” Unconventionally. But really, who would have wanted it any other way.

“Oh.” Married, too? Viviene had a flash of Anton. It was really.. flashy. And scary.

“I just.. I’m a little worried because my mood changes so quickly and so violently. Just a few hours ago I was leaving for New York, leaving Josh, and hoping to god the baby would just disappear. Now… I want it. But… what about in a few hours from now?”

“If Joshua says that he wants this baby and you… You have to trust it. Otherwise the people you love most are going to hurt for it.” As Viviene knew very well. Too well.

“But what about daddy, I mean I –“

“Ah. Anton. You must come to New York, of course. Don’t worry, Claudia. It might be rough in the beginning, but your father loves you too much to let you run away.”

“I was planning to come tomorrow…”

“Two days. Wait two days. If you don’t mind, I think maybe I’ll talk to Anton?”

“If you think it is best, please… I would appreciate it.”


Claudia felt a bit confused after their conversation, but surprisingly, she also felt relieved. Now Viviene knew, and Viviene was going to ease Anton into it, and everything would be okay. Viviene seemed to think so. Even if she had screamed.

Liam stood in front of the full-length mirror and did not recognize himself. In a meticulously tailored black Brooks Brother?s suit, a cornflower blue shirt, and yellow silk tie, hair neatly combed back; he didn?t look a thing like the Liam he knew and loved. He looked.. mean. It was nearly impossible to smile or laugh in this getup.

But he had decided to give his father a chance. He obviously wasn't very good at being a scientist, and lately he had been feeling a little unfulfilled. A little lost. Maybe his father did know something.


Liam walked into Preggio's, an exclusive men's club on the upper east side. A white-gloved waiter took his jacket, and led him to a table by the window, where two stern-looking men were sitting with tumblers of scotch and ice.

"Mr. Lloyd, Mr. Weaver, I apologize for my inconsideration the other day... unforseen circumstances. It is a pleasure to meet both of you." Liam shook the men's hands, and then took his seat. He felt like a little bit of his soul had gone into hiding.



"Liam? Liam, open the door! It's Patty!" She knew he was home because she had seen the lights on from the street, and it was mystifying her that he wasn't answering the door. It was frightening.

He knew he ought to open the door. But he just felt so awful. Ever since that lunch with his father's business partners, he had felt like a real imposter. They had loved him, said that it would be their pleasure to pull a few strings for him. They had even said they saw his father's ambition in him. That was probably the point where Liam wanted to throw up.

He'd been sitting on his couch for hours, in that pretty blue shirt and his boxers. Patty knocked again, and he got up to answer the door. It wasn't fair to worry her, really, she hadn't done anything to deserve that.

"Sorry, Pat. What's up?" Liam let her in, and she just stared at him. He looked a wreck, he knew that. He was usually so good about taking care of himself.

"What happened to you, baby?" Patty wrapped her arms around him tightly, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. He smelled like a new cologne. It was nice, actually. Very... manly? Patty felt confused.

He returned the hug lightly and stepped back, shrugging a bit. "I went to that lunch with my father's partners."

"And...?"

"It went really well. They loved me. They want to pull strings and stuff." Liam went back to the couch, and reached for his glass of orange juice.

"So..." Patty followed him, taking a seat on the cusion next to him. "What made you decide to listen to your father? And... were you wearing a suit, Liam?"

"I guess I just feel lost. I thought maybe my dad might know what he's talking about. I dressed up just like him, Pat. I didn't even sound like me. I feel sick just thinking about it." He leaned into her, pressing his face to her neck with a sigh.

Patty inhaled sharply. When Liam acted like this, so familiar and affectionate, it really made things tough on her. He didn't know that she had a crush on him. That was her secret, and her own problem. But it didn't change the fact that she felt such an urge to hold and kiss him, it nearly choked her at times. She swallowed hard, and rubbed her palm in gentle circular motions over his back.

"Just because you want to try this out, it doesn't mean that you can't be youreslf. You don't have to do it exactly like your father, right? You could try to do it in a way that doesn't strip you of who you are."



Patty left a few hours later, and Liam felt a little better. She was good at making sense when he couldn't imagine there was any. He was tired though, and the only thing he wanted to do now was sleep.

Before he turned out the light, his eyes rested on his cowboy hat, hanging from a hook on the back of the door. For some reason, it made him pause for a moment. Then he turned off the light and went to sleep.

Anthony was sweating. He'd just finished a brutal Sunday lunch shift and the muscles in his arms were killing him from all the plates he'd carried all night. He grabbed the hand towel from his locker and wiped his face harshly, until he was completely dry-skinned again. He nodded to Patrick, another waiter who'd just come in to take his shift. Patrick was relatively new, medium-height with a pretty solid build. Nice eyes, brown.

His gaze followed after Patrick as the guy went to his own locker, until someone nudged him in the side. It was Ryan, grinning like a fiend.

"Like what you see, Ant?"

"C'mon, man. Stop."

He chided his friend, but kept a smile on. At this point, Ryan already seemed convinced that Anthony was gay, so nothing he could say would make him believe otherwise. Keith, on the other hand, had officially ruled last week that Anthony was "a closeted bore," and actually left him alone now. Whatever he wanted to think was fine by Anthony, as long as he backed the fuck off.

Of course, there was also the issue that Anthony was quickly figuring out that he probably was gay. Not that he didn't still appreciate a good-looking woman. But there was no denying that something appealed to him about Patrick, something more than simple appreciation. A good hint was when he started to jerk off to thoughts about the guy. Sometimes he thought about that other guy, the guy with the cowboy hat-- though that was ages ago, he hardly could remember his face anymore, let alone his name. It was easier to think about Patrick. He took a really, really hot shower after he was done each time. And no one, not even Ryan, knew about it. Even though Anthony knew that Ryan would never judge him, considering he was gay too. He just couldn't say it. Not yet. Maybe not ever. He thought about calling Claudia to tell her, but.. it wasn't the kind of thing you could just blurt out over the phone. He'd wait as long as he had to.

"I gotta go help my little sister move, so I can't hang out today, man." Ryan shrugged at him, tossing his bag over his shoulder. "Sorry. Maybe tomorrow, though?"

"Yeah, sure. Don't worry about it. Take care."

Anthony waved to his friend as he took his leave and then peeled off his work shirt, stuffing it in his bag. Today would have to be laundry day. He pulled on another shirt, blue and button-down, and began to fasten it when someone coughed behind him. It was Amelia, trolling through the waiter locker room like there was nothing to it. As usual.

"Amelia! You startled me."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Anthony Rene. I just wanted to grab you before you left, to ask you a favor."

"Oh, sure." Anthony smiled easily at his boss, mirroring hers, which was lip-lined to absolute hell and back. "What's up?"

"Well, I was thinking. I want to spice the restaurant up a bit, add a bit of ambiance. Sometimes it just gets so dreadful during the dinner hour, and it shouldn't be that way, especially on the weekends. So I was thinking of adding something new, along the lines of... live music."

"That sounds nice," he said. "Did you want me to help you find someone?"

"Actually, I was hoping you would play, Anthony Rene."

"M-me?" he stuttered. He blinked, obviously taken aback. "You want me to play? Amelia, I don't really--"

"You do play the violin, don't you? That's why I lent you the Stradivarius, you said you played it for hours. And no one handles an instrument like that unless they're a pro."

"Amelia, I don't know.. that was the first time in a long while. I don't even own a violin anymore."

"You don't? Why not?"

Anthony blinked. "I, um. I broke it." Not a complete lie. Though replacing "broke" with "smashed in a fury against a fireplace out of resentment for my father" would have been more accurate. He smiled, a little guiltily.

"Oh, well. It's not a problem. I know someone who makes and sells them, I'll just get you one."

"Like a rental? Well, I guess that would work."

"No, Anthony Rene." She waved her hand at his talk dismissively, laughing as if he was missing out on everything. "I'll buy it for you."

Anthony blinked, stunned at the very idea of her offer. Violins were expensive instruments, not like a triangle or a recorder. He could always ask Anton to buy him a new one, he'd be thrilled that Anthony was even playing again.

"Amelia, no! You can't, I wouldn't feel--"

"An artist needs his tools, doesn't he? I don't mind at all. I know you'll drum up more business, so I'm considering it an investment. And I'll pay you three hundred for each night you do it."

He gaped. "Three hundred?"

"All right, fine, four hundred. You drive a hard bargain, dear." She winked at him and headed out of the locker room. "Come by tonight, I'll have it waiting for you. You can practice all week!"

She left and yet he stood there, dumbfounded. It was only after a moment or two that he noticed his shirt had been unbuttoned the whole time. "Drive a hard bargain," indeed. He rolled his eyes and laughed. Amelia. She was too much.



That night, he placed the violin on his mattress and stepped back from it with a sort of reverence. It was beautiful. Handmade, probably cost Amelia a fortune. He was content to just look at it for a while before the urge to play became too strong. With careful hands, Anthony tucked the instrument beneath his chin, drew up his bow and began to play.

In no time at all, his father came wandering down the hall to stand in the doorway and watch his son in amazement. Anthony didn't notice for a while, only stopping when he opened his eyes and saw Anton there.

"Jesus," he said. "You scared me, Dad."

"Anthony." Anton approached him carefully, a look of complete shock on his face. Happy shock. "You.. you're playing again? After all this time?"

"Amelia asked me to," he explained with a shrug. He couldn't help his smile. "It's a weekend thing. She gave me the violin in return for promising to play on Saturday nights. Instead of serving."

"I thought you said you never wanted to play again."

Anthony pursed his lips and gazed down at the violin and bow in his hands. He could try to explain to Anton the entire incident with the Stradivarius, and how that had reinstated his passion for playing the damn thing, but.. it was too long of a story. There were some things that Anton didn't need to know. This was only one of many.

"I changed my mind. I guess it's like the way Dia can't stay away from the piano. I can't seem to either."

"Mm." Anton nodded slowly, his gaze drifting off for a moment. "I wonder how your sister is. She hasn't visited in a long time."

"I'm sure she's fine," Anthony said, automatically. They both smiled, deciding to silently agree-- perhaps for the sake of their mutual sanity-- and Anton clasped his son's shoulder for a moment.

"I'm proud of you," he said. Simply. Then he smiled again and turned out of the room.

Anthony sighed. He put the violin and bow back down on the mattress and turned to the window, feeling a twinge of pain in his gut. There was a way to make Anton very un-proud of him, very fast. But unlike the old days, Anthony didn't feel that need any longer to upset his father. He didn't get any joy out of that. For once, he was the responsible twin. And it was a good feeling, even if it meant living at home, in Anton's shadow. He didn't want to mess that up.

Was Claudia fine? He didn't even know. His connection to her felt broken, most times. He wondered if she could sense how he was feeling. Probably not. It was better that way. God only knew what she would say, if-- when he told her.

He rubbed his hands together and lit a candle for warmth.

Viviene woke up at four in the morning. Her eyes simply opened and would not close. In her entire life, she had never woken up at such an irresponsible hour. In fact, she rarely liked to make an entrance before ten. But something was wrong. Very wrong. She felt it knawing at the inside of her chest.

She turned on some lights in the apartment and put on the coffee. Sitting there at the kitchen table, draped in a deep amethyst silk robe, Viviene truly did not look her age. She was still stunning, and it was her insanity that kept her that way. She inhaled the strong scent of the coffee and tried to pick her emotions for what was wrong.

So far, things were going quite well. Her and Anton, while living serparately still, were closer than they had ever been. He seemed happy and light, and she felt no bursting urges to run away. She was able to see Anthony every now and then – and she was suspicious as to something going on with him. But that wasn’t what pressed her. It had to be Claudia. She had spoken to Claudia on the phone perhaps three days ago. Claudia had been curt and uninterested in conversing with Viviene, which was not unusual. But was there something about her voice that made Viviene feel strangely? That had prompted her to rise at four in the morning?

Thinking about Anthony and Claudia always made Viviene sad and guilty, because they didn’t even know half of the turmoil she had put them through when they were inside of her. She vividly remembered the night in Paris that she had tried to kill herself – and them – walking into the Louvre. If that stranger hadn’t pulled her out of there…
Viviene sighed, and then took a small sip of the coffee. What was really wrong? She knew it was early, and she also knew that Claudia had never disclosed to her a number to be reached at. But Viviene would not be able to relax until she spoke to Claudia, she decided that was it.


Claudia wasn’t sleeping. She couldn’t sleep and no one ought to expect her to. She was pregnant, for the love of God! Josh was sleeping, because he was a man. And also because she had fucked his brains out earlier. Now she was sitting in the kitchen, staring at the clock, one hand pressed over her tight abdomen. Sometimes she wondered if she was really pregnant, because her stomach just seemed really toned at the moment, and weren’t pregnant women supposed to be fat? How was she going to tell Anton? How? Everyone was going to die, or better yet, kill her. She wasn’t even married. Josh hadn’t even mentioned marriage! She would bet a ton of money on the idea that Josh never intended to get married at all in his whole life. Maybe he didn’t even want this baby!

The phone rang.

It startled Claudia, and made her heart trip over itself. Who the fuck would be calling at this hour? It had to be for Josh. Josh was so inconsiderate, with his street thug ways. She got up though, and picked up the receiver after only two rings.

“…Hello?”

“Claudia… It’s Viviene.”

Claudia’s mouth dropped open. Something awful must have happened. Oh, God, something to Anton! Or Anthony! Didn’t Viviene sound terrible?

“What happened, what’s wrong?” Claudia held her breath.

“Nothing happened… everyone is fine here. I just… I wondered about you. Are you fine?”

Claudia blinked. Was Viviene all of a sudden growing maternal instincts? In another situation, this would have been quite hysterical. Right now it only seemed tragic, because that was the one thing Claudia didn’t have that she needed desperately: a mother.

“Of course I’m fine, Viviene. Didn’t I speak to you a few days ago?” Claudia had to make a real effort to keep her voice steady.

“Yes. Maybe I’m crazy, Claudia. Very possibly I am… I just felt something was wrong with you, I had to make sure. I’m sorry to have called at this hour.”

“Oh, I was alr—“ Claudia cut herself off. That was too easy. Too nice. She didn’t need to lead Viviene into conversation, she didn’t need to be accomadating. “Everything is fine here, Viviene. Don’t worry. You should go back to sleep.”

“…All right, Claudia. Good-night.”

Claudia hung up the phone. Her hand was trembling. Did it mean something that Viviene had called her in the exact moment that she’d been on the edge of possibly murdering Josh in his sleep? Did it mean something that a women she barely knew who had abandoned her and her family one too many times was suddenly tapping into her life? Claudia wanted to say no, but her instincts were saying otherwise.

She wiped at her brow, which had suddenly become moist with perspiration, and headed back into the bedroom. The dark of the night had broken, and the room was filled with a pale blue light which fell on Josh’s sleeping face. Claudia sat down on the edge of the bed, touching gently at a tendril of hair on his temple.

“I love you, but… maybe this is God trying to tell me something. Maybe it’s not meant for us to have this baby. Not yet, anyway.” Claudia was murmuring. Tears were actually collecting in her tired eyes.

An hour later she was letting herself into Rosa’s house, a haphazardly packed carry-on in tow. She had been crying consistently for the past hour, padding silently around the apartment in a completely wrecked state of mind. She wasn’t even quite sure what she was doing, except that she was probably leaving Josh now. Probably. She had to, right? a good Catholic girl did not get pregnant out of wedlock. No way. Anton would kill her, she was sure of it.

She locked herself in her bedroom and curled up on the neatly made bed. Once again, life was confusing and tragic and completely ridiculous.

Joshua went to bed a happy and satisfied man. It hardly took a moment to fall asleep after he kissed Claudia goodnight. When he woke up the next morning, he didn't even recall that anything was different. Things seemed normal. Claudia was sleeping like an angel, the house was quiet. He showered and dressed as though everything was the same. It only dawned on him when he leaned down to kiss Claudia goodbye on the forehead and he inhaled.

She smelled different.

Josh stood up in slight surprise. How could she smell different? Was that a hormone thing, or what? Somewhere along the way, he'd developed this really uncanny sense of smell to go along with his already uncanny hearing abilities and.. it was true. Upon second and third sniffs, Claudia smelled different.

Pregnant.

Oh, fuck.


After that, it was all Josh could think about. He went to the piece of shit building he and his guys called an office and paced around his barren room, leaning back against the desk and wringing his hands in worry. Yes, he was happy that she was pregnant. Very happy. It was going to be amazing, having a child with Claudia.

But then.. other things came to mind. Babies cost money, didn't they? A lot of fucking money. And Josh had money, but was it enough? Would he even be able to keep working like this once it was born? That was what Claudia had freaked out about, just the night before. Putting his own life in jeopardy every day was one thing, but what about when he had a mouth to feed, and the mother of his child to support? It might not be so easy to step in front of the barrel of a gun anymore. Nothing would ever be easy again. If he died, there was nothing but heartache for Claudia. And if he lived, there were diapers and clothes and giant bills and college and maybe a wedding and lots and lots of talking, about everything from bad grades to drugs to sex, holy shit.

Josh shook his head, though it was pounding in time with the fast beating of his heart. He forced himself to think about something else. Something else, something else. He wondered when Eddie was going to come in. He was a little late by now. Maybe he'd gone to Josh's house, looking for him. Maybe he was chatting with Claudia. Claudia. She said she hadn't told anyone else yet. He wondered what her Aunt Rosa would think. Would she be happy or would she suddenly not like him anymore? Would there be antique lamps flying at his head? God, if she wasn't happy, imagine what the rest of Claudia's family would think-- the brother, who already didn't like him. The mother, who sounded like a psycho in her own right, and fuck, Claudia's dad. He'd never met the guy, had only seen a picture or two, but the guy looked like he meant business, and he was Italian, wasn't he? Did he have connections? Was Claudia only joking about that arsenic thing, or what? Would her dad take her back to New York? Could he even--

"'Ey, London. Anybody home?"

"Huh? What?"

Josh spun around and felt his breathing hitch, sweat pool at the nape of his neck. Surely he was hallucinating, but it didn't feel like it. The only people standing in his office were Eddie, Lou, Hank, and John. John, tall and kind of lanky, a little brooding, took on the unmistakable features of Claudia's brother, Anthony. Lou, a little shorter than the others, was suddenly and most definitely Viviene, even though Josh had never seen her in his life. Hank, with his pot belly, was Claudia, obviously pregnant, quite far along. And Eddie, god help him, was Anton, his arms folded across his chest with a murderous glint in his eyes. Josh started at them, speechless, feeling his knees sway a bit at the sight.

"London, you okay? You don't look so good," Lou said, a strange voice coming out of a petite French woman.

"Josh?" Eddie said with hesitation and care, though it came out like, "Josh," in a tone that was judgmental and angry and authoritative and bloodthirsty.

The sweat trickled down his back. Joshua blinked, enough to convince his mind that it was better off asleep. The rest of him, in turn, crumpled to the floor.


"Josh, Josh! You okay? Wake up!"

Josh's conscious mind ignored Eddie's demands the best it could, but when smelling salts were waved in front of his nose, it was no longer an option to remain passed out. He gasped and turned his head away from the stink, cringing at the movement.

"Ow.. fuck," he mumbled.

"Kinda hit your head. Y'know, on the file cabinet," Eddie said sympathetically. He shrugged but smiled, glad to see Josh was awake and somewhat alert again. "It's okay guys, just.. do your assignments, okay? Don't worry about 'im, he's fine."

Josh exhaled, realizing his head was being cradled in Eddie's palm. Good thing, it felt so fucking heavy. He opened his eyes blearily to see the rest of his guys crouched and crowded around him, nodding when they saw his vision come into focus again, the aura of recognition that he didn't seem to have when they all first entered the room.

"London, how many fingers am I holdin' up?" Hank said, not holding up any fingers at all.

Josh groaned and tilted his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. "Eddie, fire Hank for me. Or kick his ass. I don't give a shit."

"Guys, just get outta here, okay?" Eddie said again, sounding more impatient. The rest of them left, trading murmurs and whispers about what the fuck was going on. None of them had ever seen Josh London faint because, well.. he never had. It just wasn't something that he did. Eddie definitely knew as much, which explained his worried expression as he looked down at Josh. "You think you can sit up? If you lean back against the desk?"

"I think so," Josh said. He sat up with a grunt and help from Eddie, until his back was resting firmly against the side of the desk, which was luckily bolted to the floor. Eddie went running off to get some ice for him and Josh just stared at the wall ahead of him, making sure not to close his eyes. Standard procedure by now.

"Here, big guy," Eddie said softly, placing the ice pack behind Josh's head, between his skull and the desk. Josh smiled wearily. He was becoming very friendly with ice packs lately. Hopefully, there wouldn't be a bump or anything. All he needed was another screaming match with Claudia.

"Thanks," he mumbled, squinting the pain of the freezing ice away, and then forcing his muscles to relax. "Sorry I.. well, whatever I did. Swooned. Whatever the fuck."

"Josh... you okay? Seriously now. You've been really, really.. I dunno. Off. Lately. Is everythin' cool? You and Claudia okay?"

"We're fine, I just..." Josh paused, taking a deep breath and thinking about how off-kilter he'd felt for weeks before Claudia's big announcement that she was knocked up. Six weeks going strong, no less. That only proved how in sync they were. "Eddie," he breathed, looking up at his big, strong friend. "Claudia's pregnant."

Eddie's dark eyes widened in surprise, his jaw falling a bit open. "Holy shit. Josh, that's-- that's.." He swallowed, catching his good tidings for a moment, keeping them in check. "Um. Is it yours?"

Josh almost laughed. Instead he just kind of smiled and nodded. "Yeah. It's mine."

"Well, then.. shit. Shit, man! Congratulations!" Eddie's large arms reached out and swept Josh up in a massive embrace, the ice pack slipping out from behind his head and falling to the floor. Josh didn't really care. It was nice to be congratulated, even if he wasn't really in the shape to return Eddie's big bear hug. He just draped his arms over his shoulders and patted his back in gratitude.

"Yeah. Thanks. Six weeks in."

"No shit?" Eddie said, letting him go and sitting on the floor, out of his crouched position. He picked up the ice pack again and gave it back to Josh, who positioned it behind his head again. Josh's eyes were a lot clearer now, and that made Eddie smile. "That's amazin', Josh. Fuckin' A. You're gonna be a dad."

Josh couldn't help but laugh. The idea sounded so ridiculous, especially when spoken aloud. A dad. A knife-throwing, sucker-punching, cold-blooded murderer dad. There were worse things, he supposed.

"I know," he said. He looked down, his voice a bit trembly. "I just wish I could stop shakin' like a leaf. I can't stop worryin'."

"Worryin' about what?"

"Everythin'. Claudia's health.. whether or not I can keep this up after she has the kid. And.. shit, even before that-- she's already a walkin' target for anyone who has a grudge 'gainst me, imagine how it'll be when everybody finds out she's carryin' my baby? Fuck, I didn't even think about that."

"Josh, it'll be okay. We'll protect her. Nobody'll get to her, if that's what you're worried 'bout."

"But it's other things too, Ed. Like.. the future, and.. her folks, I ain't even met them yet and we gotta start off by tellin' 'em I knocked her up, some fuckin' farmhand from N'awlins who, by the way, kills people for a livin'. I mean, she's from money, Ed, money. They're gonna look at me and.. maybe they'll take her away from me. Shit, I dunno. And I ain't even told my own momma yet, what am I gonna--"

"Josh. Calm down, okay?" Eddie reached out a hand and gripped Josh by the shoulder, holding him tight. The last thing he wanted was for Josh to pass out again out of nerves. "Bev'll be thrilled. You know that, we all know that. Shit, all she's ever wanted was a grandbaby. Don't even worry about that. And as for Claud's family, well.. she's a big girl, she'll be there with you. And you'll deal with that. I know Josh London ain't scared of some big shots from New York. No way, no how."

"Mm," Josh nodded, suddenly looking forward to telling his mother. Her reaction would certainly be good like Eddie predicted, and maybe it would put the entire thing into perspective. Then the thought of Claudia's dad and was unable to hide a wicked little grin. "I did kinda fuck her on the guy's mini bar."

"More than I needed to know, London." Eddie rolled his eyes and they both laughed, Josh wincing a little. He wasn't exactly healed from yesterday, either. Eddie gave him a wary look. "Look, Josh. If you need time off to handle things.. like go to the farm and visit Bev, or go to New York to tell Claud's family... you can take it. I'll handle shit down here, you ain't gotta worry. I was even surprised to see you here today, I mean.. weren't you s'posed to take a few days off?"

Josh blinked, suddenly remembering the vacation he was supposed to be on at the moment; that he should have been rolling over right about then, snuggling close to his babygirl instead of on his office floor, with a throbbing headache.

"Oh, yeah," he said. He gave an indignant sniff.

Eddie smirked, patting his shoulder. "Want me to drive you home? You can talk to Claud and then gimme a call later when you got things worked out, schedule-wise."

"Maybe we'll go see my momma. But I dunno about her family. It might be too soon for her. I know it's definitely too soon for me. But any time'd be too soon."

"Oh, yeah. Bunch'a crazies, right? That explains Claudia, I guess."

"Definitely. I've only met the brother. He don't like me at all. Kept starin' at me whenever I was in the room."

"Maybe he really likes you," Eddie said with a wink. "Twins think alike, don't they?"

"Ew. I'ma kick your ass too, if you ain't careful."

"Right. C'mon now, Poppa London."

Eddie stood up, reaching a hand out for Josh to take, which he did, grabbing up the ice before he got to his feet, legs still a bit wobbly. He stared at the ice pack in his hands as Eddie slung an arm around his shoulders and led him towards the door, out of the office. Yeah, he definitely needed a vacation. Maybe now that he remembered he was already on one, he could actually enjoy it and relax. But he doubted it.

"Yes?"

Claudia paused. It always threw her a little, how Viviene answered the phone nowadays. And who answered the phone with a 'Yes?' It was snotty, and it was rude. A real Valente would never answer the phone that way. She quickly swallowed a biting remark.

"Hi, Viviene. Is my dad there?" Claudia twirled the telephone cord around her index finger, looking toward the door. She was expecting Josh any moment. She felt anxious. Nervous, even.

"Oh, Claudia, hello. How are you?"

Not in the mood for Viviene's tireless attempts to act interested, Claudia flared her nostrils slightly -- although of course, Viviene couldn't see the impatience over the phone. "Fine. Is he there, or no?"

There was a slight pause on the line. "Ah, no. He went out. I can tell him to call you when he re --"

"No. Don't do that. I'll call him later. Thanks."

Claudia hung up the phone before Viviene could begin to protest. Lately, she just had no patience for the woman. Usually she was good-natured and tried to see the good in Viviene, who was a woman of passion and extreme confusion -- such as herself. But right now Claudia was in the sort of turmoil that didn't lend to sympathy for other human beings; she was way too wrapped up in her own thoughts.

Truthfully, she didn't even know why she was calling Anton. He couldn't help her in this particular situation, and certainly if she even hinted about it, he'd be on the next plane to New Orleans to take her away forever. Certainly. She couldn't talk to Rosa, because talking to Rosa was like talking to Anton with time-delay. And there was no question that she couldn't talk to Josh. She wouldn't. She really would not.

He hadn't noticed yet. He had a lot going on, and he was out more than usual with Eddie. Normally this would have pissed Claudia off, since she was only content when she had all of his attention. But now it was a relief to her. A blessing, actually, that he hadn't noticed her lack of appetite, the dizzy spells in the morning; the fact that her period was a month and a half late.

She felt truly frightened, right down to her bones, and that wasn't a normal feeling for her. Fear wasn't something that came easily for Claudia. But now she was breathing it, she was choking on it. Claudia sat back onto one of the kitchen chairs, still fingering the telephone cord. The kitchen was a mess. She hadn't washed the dishes in days. Josh had eaten cereal that morning, and left the milk out, as well as the dirty bowl on the counter. She ran her hand over her slightly moist face, feeling a slight wave of sickness pass over her again. What was she going to do?

She took up the phone again, and dialed another number. One that she hadn't dialed in a long time. It rang once. Twice. Three times.

"Hello?"

A man answered the phone. Claudia swallowed, feeling a little unsure. "Hi... Is Fantine there?"

"Of course, my dear. Just hold on a quick moment -- may I ask who's calling?"

"It's... it's Claudia. Her... daughter."

"Oh, Claudia! She'll be so happy to hear from you, she talks about you and your brother all the time. Hold on, darling."

Claudia's eyes widened slightly at that. She actually hadn't known that Fantine had a new boyfriend. She didn't really keep in touch with anyone these days, although Fantine was constantly in the back of her mind. He sounded nice anyway. With manners and a slight british accent.

"Claudia?" Fantine's gentle voice immediately made Claudia's eyes fill with tears.

"Fantine.. I, I'm in trouble." She said almost under her breath.

"... Tell me what's going on, Dia." She heard the worry in Fantine's voice. That was because Fantine loved her. Fantine had raised her. She had never deserted her.

"I'm pregnant."

It was the first time she had said those words outloud. She was shocked by how sure of themselves those words were. So simple, uncomplicated; true. She was pregnant.

"Claudia!"

"I am. Josh doesn't know yet. I don't know what to do."

"Okay, okay. Are you sitting down? Sit down, and let's talk about this."



An hour and a half later, Claudia was soaking in a hot bath with a few candles burning along the edge of the tub. Josh hadn't returned home yet, even though he had said he would be back a while ago. She didn't mind. She was grateful for the time to be alone with this. Talking to Fantine had calmed her somewhat. For the first time since she had found out, she began to really understand it. She was pregnant. She had a baby in her stomach. A baby that was her and Josh. She linked her fingers gently against her stomach, which looked pretty much the same. It just felt a little different. It felt harder. A little tender. What would Josh think about this? What would he say? She wasn't sure when she was going to tell him, or how. Claudia closed her eyes, breathing in the warm scent of the candles mixed with the soapy water.

When Desmond got home, the lights were off. The apartment smelled vaguely of patchouli, a scent that he really hated but Laura adored. She was constantly lighting incense and making the place smell like a hippie den. He threw his keys down on the kitchen table and looked at the note she'd left him. They were always leaving notes for each other, though most of them were useless. This one was no different. It read, Out. Bringing back sandwiches. Hope you liked Monty. Desmond smirked. He was sure Monty was great, if he'd met him.

Instead, his transaction had been swift and strange, an encounter with a girl who he couldn't get out of his mind, ever since leaving her on her corner. Halie. Everything about her was so familiar. Her scent, her face, the feel of her skin. How was that possible? He searched his brain for ways in which he might have known her-- surely, before his accident. Maybe she was a friend of his in school? An old neighbor? He ventured a guess at an old girlfriend, but she didn't seem to know him either, so that was out. He couldn't imagine. All he knew was that the encounter had drained him in every way. He yawned and plucked the bags of coke from his jacket, dropping them on the table for Laura to check out. Just in case he passed out before she returned, he turned her note over and scribbled something short and sweet: Enjoy.

Desmond walked to the bed, trying to pry off his t-shirt with one hand as he went. Usually, he was able to do it with relative ease, but right now, he was just too exhausted. Though it was warm in the apartment, he flopped onto the mattress in his t-shirt and jeans, propping himself up on a few pillows and taking his reading glasses from the nightstand, along with the Rilke book he was currently going through. He'd bought it for a buck at a book stand downtown. Laura's books annoyed him, mostly fantasy and romance novels. His hair fell into his eyes constantly as he tried to read. He only managed to keep them open for ten minutes or so before he laid the book on his chest and fell fast asleep.


He stirred when he felt the arms of his eyeglasses sliding off his ears, grazing the sides of his face. When he blearily opened his eyes, he realized Laura was undoing the buttons on his fly, smiling broadly at him. He focused his vision quickly after realizing he was hard, thanks to the light graze of her hand against his jeans. His book was safely back on the nightstand.

"You did a great job, baby," she said, flashing white teeth. "That's a lot of blow. Monty must've liked you."

Desmond opened his mouth to speak, but panted first instead at the pressure of her palm against him. "Actually.. it wasn't him. It was a girl. He was.. sick."

"Well, you must have charmed the hell out of her."

Laura leaned down and pressed her mouth against his, demanding entrance with slick tongue and teeth. It tasted like the cake of her lipstick, the way it always did. But this time, Desmond found he didn't mind at all. He focused with great relish on the sliding of their tongues, the heat and wetness emanating from them both. Laura slid her fingernails down his torso, over the thin covering of his t-shirt, and he nearly whimpered into her mouth. It felt so good, better than usual. He had to force himself to protest once she wrapped a hand around his cock and lowered her mouth to service him below the waist instead.

"No, wait," he gasped. It wasn't what he wanted. He caught her startled gaze and held her wrist with his good hand. "I want to fuck."

"Oh yeah?" Laura grinned again, tugging his jeans down further, along with his boxers. She looked him over once she'd yanked them off his legs completely. "You want me on top?"

"No, just.. c'mon." Desmond sighed, his words coming out fast and desperate. Laura, for her part, looked rather surprised but pleased, as she leaned over to rummage through the nearby drawer for a condom. She ripped the foil open with her teeth and rolled it onto him as he watched. As soon as she was done, Desmond tilted his hips, knocking her off balance, falling onto her back. She laughed as she shimmied out of her panties, the only clothing she wore aside from a tank top.

"I'm not used to you being so eager. And wanting to be on top, no less. You sure it won't hurt you?"

"I don't fuckin' care," he said. Desmond kissed her again, just to get the ball rolling faster, swarming over her body. He didn't understand it, but he felt ravenous. He wanted inside of her immediately. And since she was so willing, he didn't want to squander the opportunity. He waited until Laura had her legs spread, hooked around his, and then entered, eliciting moans from them both.

It was fast and it was harsh, but it was good. The room filled with the sounds of their lovemaking, from gasps and groans to the bed knocking against the adjacent wall. Desmond was fierce with her, ignoring any need for discretion or gentle behavior. He felt like there were ants crawling inside of him. He needed some kind of release. When he focused his rich blue eyes on Laura, she was staring at him in shock. Her lipstick was smeared everywhere. She came first, writhing fruitlessly beneath him. Desmond clenched his good hand in the sheets and kept thrusting until he joined her.

Relief. It washed over him in a lingering warmth once it was over. He slipped out of her and allowed himself to fall without grace on the bed, sticky and coated with sweat everywhere. Laura said something, which he missed.

"What?"

"I said, holy shit."

"Oh. Yeah."

His eyes were closed until he felt Laura's gaze penetrating him and turned to face her. She was smiling, looking almost lovestruck for the first time in a while. He smiled in return, though his was strained. He felt guilty, somehow, a sensation he couldn't explain, not in a million years. Even so, it was there, just beneath the surface of his skin, burning hot like a fever.

Laura didn't seem to notice. She sat up and reached for the moist fabric of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head, leaving his hair in raised, damp clumps. That was nice, considering he hadn't had the energy to do it himself before. He was about to thank her when she placed a fingertip gently over his lips.

"You're fine," she whispered. Desmond had no way of responding except nodding and closing his eyes again. He liked it when she spoke with reassurance like that. If she said it soft and sweet enough, he often let himself believe it.

Halie couldn't stop thinking about him: Desmond. She had dreams about him. About walking down the street holding his hand. Smiling at him. Touching his face. In the dreams he would speak softly to her, and when he looked at her, in his eyes there was only sweetness. Thinking about him made her smile.

It was early evening, and Halie was sitting in front of the small altar, carefully rearranging the candles. It seemed like something she ought to do, and she was drawn to care for the altar. The solemn face of the woman depicted on the painted cards was calming and gentle. The door opened, and Halie started in slight shock -- Seth never visited at this hour. She watched with a slowly deepening confusion as a short, but powerful looking man stepped into the room. He was quiet. He turned the lock behind him, and dropped the keys into his jacket pocket. And then they were staring at each other.

He had a hard expression on his face that she found a little unnerving. His eyes were brown, his hair the same nondescript color, and he wore jeans and a black overcoat. His thin lips curled slightly before he spoke.

"So. What's it, then? I gave you enough time, I'd say." He leaned against the wall, folding his arms over his belly.

"I'm sorry, " Halie said a little nervously. "Do I... Do I know you?" She gathered herself to her haunches, feeling more uneasy.

The man's eyes flashed bright for a moment, and he took two large steps and he was right in front of her, his hand reaching down and pulling her up by the collar of her shirt. Halie almost lost her breath. He stared her hard in the eye.

"You little bitch. Don't play coy with me. Do you need to learn another lesson?"

His breath smelled sour. Halie felt tears spring to her eyes, and her throat constrict with fear. All she could think about was Desmond. She wished he were here. Somehow she felt he would help her. He would make this man go away.

"I... I... I'm sorry, I just... I don't know y --"

The man smacked her hard across the face with his free hand. The sound sickened her, and she felt her head roll back. She felt like she was going to faint. And now her face was burning hard. She stared wide-eyed at the man, tears streaming down her red cheeks.

"Right. I'll expect to see you at 9 o' clock, my place. Good evening."

He dropped her, and she crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. He left without another word, and Halie stared at the door what seemed like hours, afraid that he would barge back in. She was petrified. She didn't know where he lived. She didn't know who he was.

After a while, Halie got up and went to the bathroom. She rinsed off her face with cold water, and noted the bruising beginning to blossom on her left cheekbone. She sighed, and wiped off her face. She had to go. If she didn't go, the man would come back and probably hit her again. She found her sweater and and pulled it on, and then she left the apartment quickly. She didn't know where she was going. She just knew she had to go. And so she walked. Hands in her pockets, face down, as fast as she could away from the streets she knew.

"T-shirt."

Desmond took the offered clothing from Laura's hands, sliding it over his bare torso, made slight from a diet of leftovers and amphetamines. His ribs poked out from beneath his stretched skin, and once his arms and head emerged from the correct holes, Laura reached out and pulled down the hem for him. She smoothed her palms over the worn, black cotton and smiled at him, almost warmly.

"I don't need you to dress me, you know. I'm perfectly capable," he muttered.

"I like to. I got so used to it..." Laura trailed off, regarding him a moment before grabbing the next item, and holding it up. "Jacket."

She'd picked it out for him, grey slick leather that hung nicely along his shoulders and arms. Most of his other clothes were secondhand, which was good enough for him. His lawyer had once informed him of all the suits and fancy clothes he used to own, that had been sold or given away when he was in a coma and looked like he might not make it. A funny thing, since Desmond hated suits now. They looked so binding. Like your life was trapping you via your clothes.

He slid his arms into the jacket sleeves, his back to her, and as per the ritual, she wrapped her arms around his middle once it was on, and squeezed. Desmond closed his blue eyes and felt her warmth spread along his skin. Sometimes he felt so hungry around her-- not in the food sense, but in the sense that he was starving for affection, and he'd been deprived all his life.

"I don't want to do it today," he said, eyes still closed. Music with strings played in the background and he swayed a bit. "I don't feel right."

"Hence the next item." Laura turned him around and presented a small silver bullet, holding it up to him as an offer. "Courage."

Desmond smiled vaguely but gratefully, taking it with his left hand and bringing it to the left nostril. He put as much pressure on the right with his other hand as he could, and snorted once, twice. He coughed sharply and squeezed his eyes shut before handing it back to her.

"Fuck," he murmured.

Laura put the bullet down on the counter behind her and then smoothed her hands over his sharply-angled hips, over the faded blue-black denim that covered them. She nudged her knee against his, caressing skin that peeked out from the jagged rip in his jeans. Laura was definitely a touch-oriented woman, which was Desmond's favorite quality of hers. He loved to be touched, desperately needed it at most times of the day and night. It didn't matter where, every part felt good. It reassured him that he was still here, that he was alive, that things weren't slipping away from him.

"You're okay," she said. It was a statement, not a question. He nodded.

"Where should I go?" He was intensely focused on the finer details of her face, her kohl-lined fawn colored eyes and her mouth, with lips that were red, red, red. Always a little too red for his liking. He could see the beginning and end of each lipstick smudge.

"Stay close, if you can. I'll be worried if you take too long."

"You'll be here?"

"Actually, I'm going out." She tossed back her auburn hair and snapped her gum between her teeth. "But I want you to be here when I get back. You know who you should go to? Monty. He's just a few blocks from here."

Laura moved to the counter and grabbed a napkin, scrawling a very unprofessional street map with a leaky blue pen. "Monty works here," she suddenly said, making an asterisk on a specific corner. "He's cool. Just tell him you know me."

He watched her, halfway amused. "Will I get a discount?"

"That depends. Will you suck his dick?"

"Probably not."

"Then, probably not." She arched a tawny brow and handed him the napkin, tossing the pen into the trash. Desmond grabbed it and shoved it into his back pocket with a fake smile.

"You're a bitch, you know that?"

She smiled ruefully, rubbing his five o'clock shadow.

"Just be careful," she said.

Three weeks had passed since Halie had woken up in the strange green room. In those three weeks she had adjusted to her new lifestyle quietly and without much thought. For all she knew, this may have been her entire life -- she just didn't remember. Although sometimes, waking up from a dream that violently tossed her from high places, she doubted it.

Every day, Halie woke up when Seth (that was what the skinny man called himself) entered the apartment -- if you could call the one green room that. He would split some breakfast with her, usually some coffee and an egg and cheese muffin, and then give her a sheet of paper to look over. On that sheet of paper were the hot spots -- the places she needed to hit within a given timeframe. It was like a game, really. Halie had to sell the small white bags at the specified locations. The more she sold, the nicer Seth would treat her. It was that simple.

At first, all of the clothes in her closet seemed very strange to her. Everything was old and worn out, and dark. There were no dresses, and only two skirts, both of which hardly covered her legs. She wore the same jeans and t-shirt until Seth remarked that she looked homeless, and that wasn't going to get uptown sales. She didn't really understand what that meant, but if it would make him happy, she could try on the clothes in the closet.

Today was Wednesday, and Halie had woken up before Seth arrived. She bathed quickly(there was no hot water), and dressed herself. A white v-neck t-shirt, and a red tartan skirt. Over that, a thin black sweater that reached down to her knees. She had found a pair of black and white converse sneakers, that while badly worn, were comfortable. She wore them with everything these days. She brushed her hair, which now touched to the middle of her back, away from her face, and put on the silver bangles. The mass of jewelry that she had been wearing when she woke up was too much, she found the silver bangles the only item that didn't frighten her.

Seth opened the door just then, with a Dunkin' Donuts bag. He nodded to her and then sat down unceremoniously upon the floor. She sat down across from him and accepted the breakfast sandwich.

"Today there's a change of plans. Monty's sick and can't work his corner, so you're filling in." He swallowed his coffee and looked at her.

Halie nodded, although she had no idea who Monty was, and didn't know where he usually worked.

Seth looked her over. He blinked. She had been so strange lately. She didn't talk much, and didn't seem to know anything about her life or job. He had basically had to tell her how to do exactly what she had been doing for years. It was strange, but it wasn't really in his nature to ask her about it. He cared, but... not that much. As long as she got the job done, it was all right.

"Well, alright," he said, handing her the backpack. "We gotta go."

Halie stood up, feeling her head spin a little. She was used to the feeling though. She pulled on the backpack and headed for the door, holding it open for him.

Desmond Salvador was dead. As far as he knew.

Halie had gone again, to god knows where, and his apartment seemed emptier each day. He went numb. Not even enough gusto to get angry about anything. His tapes disgusted him, a tasteless reminder of a past that was coated red with blood. Late one night, he placed them all in a box and drove into a patch of woods with a shovel, burying them deep in the earth. If he left them in his apartment, he might end up being remembered. He didn’t want to be remembered.

He chose a day when the sun was especially bright, as if such glorious surroundings could change his mind. They couldn’t. He walked into town and stopped by the clothing store where long ago, he’d bought Her an expensive dress. That was a good place to end up. When he turned away from the storefront window, a fleet of cars, trucks and buses whizzed by in the street. All that metal shining like treasure in the sunlight.

He focused on the other side of the street, concentrating on a sidewalk bench that was empty. The traffic lights blinked green, yellow and red as he stood. He stared and stared until suddenly, She appeared. Her legs were crossed. She wore the dress. She waved and beckoned him. So he went.

He barely noticed the pain. There was no time.


*


"Desi, what the fuck? You ate all the Chinese leftovers!"

Desmond opened his eyes blearily as lamplight came on and angrily glowered in his face. Waking up was always a strange sensation; he always worried it would be like the first time he remembered ever waking, like being born and finding he was somehow already grown. He was too tired to have another fight with Laura about leftovers. They were his, anyway; he’d paid for them when they were fresh. Just like he paid for most of the shit in their apartment. He suspected that it was what Laura liked best about him. Like she said, he had "a checking account that wouldn’t quit." That much was true. Inheritance, a lawyer had whispered to him in an office somewhere. Your father. And you had a great job. Desmond had shrugged. He couldn’t remember ever having either one of those. No big loss.

"Get some fucking new food, then," he murmured into his pillow. Laura snatched it out from under his head and smacked him in the face with it.

"OW! Watch the goddamn scar!" He frowned up at her, motioning to the ragged scar that peeked out from his hairline, just above his temple. The thing was fragile, constantly giving him headaches and looking foul every time he gazed in the mirror. He considered himself lucky that he couldn’t remember a day when he didn’t have it. If anything, it looked better now than it used to.

Laura climbed onto the bed, straddling his waist. She was a crappy roommate but a good lay. She adored spending his money on shoes, clothes and coke. He let her. He enjoyed the coke, too. He enjoyed anything she got. She lifted his hands by the wrists and kissed his palms gently, massaging the fingers. As always, he didn’t feel much of the sensation in his right hand. Nerve damage. Luckily, he was left-handed. He wished he knew why he’d been so bent on fucking himself up like this. For the life of him, he could not remember. He could only imagine how devastated he must have been, once upon a time. For some reason.

"I’m sorry, baby," Laura said. "I’ll make it up to you. I’ll cook something tonight, aaaand… you can go out and score."

"How is that making it up to me? I fucking hate being the one to do it."

"Because later, you’ll score again." She punctuated her statement with a corkscrew motion of her hips against his. Desmond suppressed a rumbling moan. Thank god not all of his nerves were messed up.

"Fuck. I guess."

"Good."

She smiled at him and he forced himself to smile back. She was nice, he supposed. A friend of the guy he shared a room with in rehab, Laura let him stay with her after he was released and took good care of him. In return, he paid for most of the food, most of the drugs, most of the rent, etc. He told himself he owed her that much. Still, every now and then, he looked at her—really looked at her—and was overwhelmed by a sudden urge to punch her, slit her throat. Something awful like that. He had no idea where those thoughts came from and they really scared him. They made him shiver, and when Laura asked, he told her it was from the accident.

He shook himself out of his fog when Laura raised his deadened right hand, the one that couldn’t type, grasp, or flex for shit. It could caress, smooth and wiggle slightly. Still, anything he touched felt like nothing at all, like air. It was depressing.

"It’s too bad about this hand. I bet it used to do amazing things."

"Maybe. I somehow doubt it."

She gave him a puzzled look, but he didn’t feel like explaining. So he smiled, and she smiled back. And that was that.

"Halie."

A whisper against her skin. She could feel soft breathing, hear a drumming of fingertips. And lemons. She was swallowing their bittersweet aftertaste.

"Wake up, my lovely."

The whisper soothed her, making the command seem like more of a peaceful suggestion. Yes, she would wake up. Soon. Very soon.


She was sitting in a room. It was painted a shiny seafoam green, it looked wet and thick, like a melting candle. In the room, there was an old leather chair, a small camping stove on the floor, and an elaborate altar on the wall opposite her. Dedicated to the Virgin Mary. The thick scent of incense burned her nostrils, and made her eyes water. She looked down at herself and felt a slight shock at the clothes she had on. Ripped blue jean pants that were so dirty it was difficult to discern that they had ever been blue, a black long sleeve t-shirt, and silver jewelry. So many pieces of jewelry. Rings of the pentagram, various saints, celtic symbols, choking her fingers. dozens of thin silver bracelets. Around her neck, an emblem she did not recognize. And her hands were filthy. Under the short nails, blood. As if she had scratched someone viciously.

All of a sudden, a door opened, and in walked a young man. He was very tall, and painfully thin. His cheeks were hollowed, his skin a yellowed pallor, and his eyes a frightening shock of blue. His black boots thudded heavy on the floor in front of her. She watched him silently, too disoriented to be surprised.

"What is your problem? We been waiting for you hours! You think this shit's gonna sell itself?" The man dropped a large sack in front of her. She carefully touched open the top; inside were hundreds of little plastic bags filled with white. Maybe powder.

The man was staring at her. She looked up at him. "What is it?" She asked. But her voice didn't sound like her own. It was low and raspy. The man blinked at her.

"Listen, I told you not to shoot up before you sell. It's bad business, and if Hector finds out he'll fucking gut you and find another chick to work your corner. You know that. The fuck, H? C'mon."

The man pulled her up by her arms, and she was surprised at his strength. But the effort of standing made her feel sick, and the room began to spin slowly around her.

The next thing she knew, she was standing outside next to an alley. The sack was strapped to her back, and she had one of the small plastic bags in her open palm. It was dark, only one streetlight wasn't busted on the strip, and it buzzed and flickered. She looked around her, suddenly feeling panicked. She didn't know where she was, she didn't know what was happening. Then she caught sight of the tall thin man -- he was walking away from her, down the sidewalk.

"Please, I --" She croaked, still in that unfamiliar voice.

He turned quickly, putting a finger to his chapped lips. "I'll be back for you at 2. Don't be stupid, H."

And with that, he continued down the sidewalk. Halie watched him until she could no longer make out his form. She looked around her, trying to figure out where she was. Across the street were apartments, tall dark buildings with few small yellow lights in the windows. At the end of the block, a storefront boasted XXX GIRLS in neon. Halie clutched the small bag and did the only thing she could do: she waited for the man to come back.

Claudia slept. A deep, dreamless sleep. Almost like death -- because that’s how she felt when she opened her eyes with the interruption of morning light: dead. There wasn’t even a split second of forgetting about the night before, because as soon as consciousness took hold, so did the pain in her neck. Felt like all her muscles had been ripped out and rearranged.

Carefully, she sat up on the couch, passing a hand over her eyes. There were voices coming from the kitchen. Josh and Eddie, to be precise. She listened for a few moments, hearing Eddie drone about something, Josh grunting every now and then. She didn’t want to see either of them. She managed to pad quietly into the bedroom without them noticing, and from there, locked herself in the bathroom.

Claudia sat on the edge of the tub while it began to fill with steaming water. Last night, she had been rather adamant that she was not guilty. She had been sure that Ollie was none of Josh’s concern. She had been ready to kill him for being so worked up over it. But now, after there was nothing left but a lingering tension you could almost smell in the air, and the bruises that colored her skin, she wasn’t so sure. And then, she did something that she never did; she put herself in his shoes.

If Josh had cheated on her with an ex-girlfriend, and that girlfriend had come moping after him at two in the morning... Well, suffice to say he would be lucky if he could ever think about girls again. She certainly would have left him. At least for a while. And if he had tried to argue about how he was in the right, how it was none of her business anyway -- Well, fuck that shit. Claudia sighed deeply. “Fuck.”

She didn’t know why she had let herself go off with Ollie. She was drunk. She was angry. She had a million excuses. Did any of them even matter? It wasn’t appealing to think about apologizing to Josh again. But it also didn’t sit well with her to leave things like this. Even though she hadn’t seen him yet today, she knew he wasn’t good.

Claudia carefully stepped into the tub, and let the hot water encompass her aching body. She could still hear Josh and Eddie in the kitchen. She closed her eyes. It was so strange that she was still here. This wasn’t her usual mode of dealing with things. She ought to be at Rosa’s right now, drinking tea and nursing her wounds. Not... here. But Claudia realized that the biggest problem right now was that she had lost something last night that would not be easily recovered.

She had lost his trust.

She sank down deeper into the tub, feeling her eyes well with tears.

Josh didn't sleep a bit. At eight in the morning, he was bleary-eyed and stiff, glad the sun was finally up so he would have an excuse to be awake. He picked up the phone and called Eddie, to make arrangements to meet and discuss some deals. He told Eddie to come by his place and to be very quiet when he got there. Even when Claudia was sleeping, the tension felt thick in the apartment and Josh wanted badly to leave. But he knew it wouldn't be good to escape without her knowing, so she could wake up and be angry with him all over again for ducking out.

Eddie came and knocked softly on the door, once. Josh was sitting in the kitchen, sipping a cup of lukewarm tea, waiting for him. He abandoned the drink and stood, heading to the door and letting Eddie inside with a finger pressed to his lips. They headed towards the bedroom, Eddie taking a moment longer to catch up, his gaze transfixed for a bit on Claudia's sleeping form curled up on the couch.

Once inside, Eddie took out a bunch of folded papers from his back pocket and laid them on the bed. Josh took one in his hands, inspecting carefully. They talked business for a few minutes, until a lull came up in the conversation.

Eddie looked towards the door, as though Claudia would walk in at any second. "She sick?"

"Huh?" Josh asked. He looked up with foggy eyes, tired as hell, trying hard to concentrate on the work at hand.

"Claudia. Is she sick? How she's on the couch an' all, I figured maybe you didn't wanna catch somethin'."

"She's fine," Josh muttered. He looked upset suddenly and Eddie had to raise a brow at that in wonder. They'd seemed perfectly happy as clams when he left them together at the farm. Glowing, crazy kids in love. Surely they hadn't had a fight already. Eddie couldn't imagine that-- but then again, he could. With Josh and Claudia, anything was possible. Apart, they were like two ticking time bombs sometimes. Together, everyone had to duck and run for cover.

"What happened?" Eddie asked quietly. Josh sighed and scratched his head, trying to ignore the question, before his vision started to get glassy. He put down the papers and closed his eyes. Eddie moved forward, concerned. "Josh?"

Joshua looked up with a slight grimace. "She cheated on me, Ed." He smirked when he saw Eddie's jaw drop slightly. It was pretty unbelievable, he knew. Aside from their daily blow-outs, everyone considered them the perfect couple. At least, a perfectly loyal couple. Josh was. Even with this information, he still couldn't bring himself to even think of touching another woman. It burned him that he was so fucking whipped by her. But god, she was his life. He didn't want anyone else.

"I don't-- how did--? When? Not.. not Quentin, was it?"

"No. Before the farm. Some.. some fuckin' kid. Who the fuck knows. He came 'round here, lookin' for her. Didn't expect me to open the door, I guess."

"Jesus, Josh. But before the farm? That can't be.." Eddie blinked, trying to rack his brain for an explanation. When she came to see him that day, she seemed so sure that Josh was the only one for her. She practically begged Eddie to take her to the farm. But then again, Josh had been gone for two weeks before that and Eddie hadn't seen her at all in that time. Two weeks was a lot of time to get oneself into trouble. Eddie shook his head again, still somewhat unbelieving. "Fuck. You know who he is?"

"Forget it," Josh scoffed. He shook his head, already aware of what Eddie was thinking. "I just wanna leave it alone. Kid didn't know. She was probably playin' him for a fool. Left here like he was gonna run home to his momma."

Eddie nodded, folding his arms across his chest, then undoing them, placing his hands on his hips. "What're you gonna do?"

"Can't do anything. I thought about throwin' her out, but... I just-- I just can't." Joshua ran his fingers through his hair, scraping his nails against the scalp. He felt weak. But he knew he hadn't completely forgiven her yet, and he was holding onto that for dear life. "She won't even apologize, really. She did, but.. not the kind I wanted. She says..." He paused and laughed bitterly. "She needed to do it, to show her I was the one."

"..No other way?"

"That's what I said."

"That's kinda.. well. Kinda fucked, don't you think, Josh?"

"Fuck yeah, it is. But she's fucked, we all know that. I'm fucked. And I love her. So." Josh twisted his lips and shrugged his shoulders, shuffling some of the papers around on his bed. "I just dunno what to do right now. I'd never cared about this sorta thing before. She says I'm bein' stupid for takin' it so bad, but..." He trailed off, picking up a notice and staring hard at the handwriting until the black of the ink blended in with the white of the paper. He looked up quickly at Eddie. "Look. Don't say nothin' to her 'bout it. If she knows I told you, she'll know I'm not over it, and she wants me to get over it, so."

"Well, all right, Josh."

"All right. Here, sit down, you're makin' me nervous. Tell me what I missed."

Eddie nodded, trying to push the topic at hand off to the side and deal with business matters. He sat down on the bed beside Josh and talked to him about current deals, transactions in the making, various dilemmas. They sat for about an hour and got a lot of work done before Eddie finally got up to leave. Josh had nodded the whole time, filing away information into his brain, the veritable rolodex he seemed to have stored up there. But every now and then, his eyes squinted or his lips twitched, and Eddie knew for a fact that his mind was stuck on something else entirely.

Time went by, some days slower than others. Anthony barely ever heard from his sister anymore. He wondered if she was okay, sometimes getting the bristling feeling that she was not okay at all, at random times of the day. During breakfast, while delivering food to a table. Just got this weird pang in his stomach. He chalked it up to the missing piece of him that her constant absence left behind, his other half.

Anton was around and relatively friendly, now that they'd all sunken into a casual routine with Viviene in New York again. It was tolerable, mostly because Anthony worked a lot and was beginning to get friendly with the other waiters, going out for drinks and meals with them. It felt peculiar sometimes, as Anthony hadn't really had a set group of friends since high school, when he'd been a terribly popular jock-slash-musical prodigy. They'd all just fallen by the wayside of his life, and he'd truthfully never missed any of them at all.

One particularly strong bond occurred between him and another waiter, Ryan, who he'd met on his very first day. They spent a lot of time chatting over drinks after work, blowing off steam, mocking Keith the asshole. Ryan was gay, but not belligerent about it as Keith often was; he accepted Anthony's claim to being straight and didn't bother getting into it much. Anthony though, whatever his personal neurosis, couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Ryan didn't really believe him.

On a Wednesday night, they sat beside each other at a bar, not incredibly crowded. Ryan looked around for attractive guys, and Anthony stared into his drink, a flat rum and coke.

"God, where is everyone tonight?" Ryan mused. He bit on the frayed end of his straw. "This place is totally dead."

"I kinda like it. I can actually hear myself think." Anthony shrugged and sipped at his drink, wrinkling his nose at how flat it was. "It's a nice change of pace."

"Oh, Ant. You think too much as it is. If you didn't, you wouldn't let Keith bother you so much."

"Please Ry, I'm trying to keep this down. Thanks." Keith. Gross. He was the last person that Anthony wanted to think about, when he was trying to relax. He had other things on his mind, like his father and Claudia. Keith was annoying, but in a different way. He just pushed Anthony's buttons.

Ryan smirked and swirled his straw in his multi-coloured drink before taking a small sip. "I'm just sayin'. I mean, he's an asshole for sure, but you shouldn't let him bug you. I dunno why you do. Seems illogical."

Anthony set his drink down, looking at Ryan incredulously. "You don't believe me, do you?"

"Believe what?"

"That I'm straight? You don't. And you never have. Have you?"

"Well..." Ryan hissed in a breath between clenched teeth and looked away for a moment. He then returned attention to his drink, poking at ice cubes with his straw, peeking up at Anthony. "I guess I have my doubts sometimes. You tend to display definite closet behaviour, kiddo."

"Oh, c'mon. Like what? Give me one example."

"Well, like how riled up you get when one of the guys touches you at work, like we have homo-cooties. Or how personally you take it when Keith insinuates something. And then there was that one time, with that guy..."

Anthony arched a brow. "What guy?"

"Ah, that guy.. it was a couple of weeks ago? The customer, with the cowboy hat. Lee? No, Liam! Liam."

"Liam." Anthony stared at his friend for a moment before laughing to himself, taking a heavy swallow of his drink. He hadn't thought about that night in weeks, not since he'd had that weird dream. It had been ages ago, it seemed. He probably wouldn't even have been able to recall the guy's name, had Ryan not said it. Though now it felt like it would never leave his memory banks. "What about him?"

"Uh, Ant? You were totally flirting with him."

"Flirting? You mean when I stole his hat? C'mon, I liked the hat! It was cool!" Anthony's voice raised a bit in pitch as he tried to defend himself, only to be shot down by Ryan's eyerolls. "Can't a guy be friendly to another guy?"

"There's friendly and there's friendly, and you were being friendly."

"He was nice, so I was nice to him. That's all."

"Do you remember what he looked like?"

"Sure. Well, the cowboy hat. Huge blue eyes, really nice, broad smile. Medium build, not too small."

"How about that pretty girl he was with?"

"Uh..." Anthony blinked, lost. "I.. don't remember."

Ryan quirked a brow devilishly. Anthony sighed in defeat.

"I don't know how to convince you, Ryan."

"Look, I don't care, Anthony. You know that. If you liked him or thought he was cute or whatever, that's totally cool. I wouldn't hold it against you or lord it over you."

"Well, I mean, he was nice..."

"..And you liked him?"

Anthony sighed and shook his head vaguely. "..I can't talk about this anymore. I have to go. Sorry, Ryan." He slid off his stool, finishing off his rum and coke, save for a drop left at the bottom of the short glass. A ten was thrown down on the bartop, more than enough. "Thanks for the company."

"Yeah, okay. Look, though, I didn't mean to..."

"It's cool. I promise. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

Ryan nodded, a bit sadly. "Okay."

Anthony looked at his watch before waving goodbye to Ryan. He quickly slipped his coat on and made his way out of the bar, out onto the chilly sidewalk. He could still catch an express train uptown, but the night was crisp and clear, if not a bit cold. Leaning towards perfect. He decided to walk home, hands buried deep in his pockets. As usual, he had tons to think about, and needed the extra time to go about it.

Ollie walked into the bar while Claudia was sitting on the piano bench, staring blankly at the keys. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she looked at him without recognition at first. He had cut his soft curly hair close to his head, and his face looked sharper, if that were possible. More defined. But his eyes were the same: large and liquid gold. She smiled.


In the living room of Ollie’s flat above a small restaurant in the french quarter, Claudia played a bluesy tune on the old upright. Ollie’s mother, knitting in her wooden rocking chair smiled approvingly, nodding her head along with the rhythm. Ollie watched from the other side of the room, and Claudia felt his gaze. Felt it like something hot and uncomfortable, and yet... Okay. Maybe even exciting. It had been so long since she’d really played. Felt the music running through her veins, mixed with too much alcohol. It was so hot in that room.


In Ollie’s bedroom, his hand hovered hesitantly over the scarred skin of her side. “What’s this? What happened?” And her lips covered his question, refused to answer him. He didn’t ask again. Ollie’s skin was soft, and smelled of soap. Clean white soap. She bit into that skin, coloured deep and smooth like caramel. Let his slender hands touch all of the places that weren’t his to touch. The places he had always wanted to have for his own.

He whispered things into her skin that she didn’t hear.

Claudia’s head fell against the white pillow softly, and Ollie hovered over her, his face full, wanting, wanting. She looked at that face. She had never loved him. His face, above her, was wrong. She touched it, and it stayed the same. She covered the mouth, to keep it from kissing her. The heavy press of his body was wrong. His voice against her skin was wrong. It was all wrong. It was a mistake. A mistake.


“I’m sorry, I’m drunk. I’m drunk.” She pulled on her pants. Quickly. Her shirt. Didn’t look at him directly, because she knew exactly how he was looking at her, there in the middle of his dissheveled bed. Stricken. She had seen it before.

“Claudia...How...”

“I don’t Ollie.” She touched his head gently. “I’m so sorry.”



She sat on Josh’s bed for a very long time. The apartment was frighteningly empty without him. With the knowledge that he wasn’t going to walk in at any moment. His toothbrush was gone, and somehow that struck her as the most tragic thing of all. She took a shower to wash Ollie off her skin, and dried herself with Josh’s towel. His scent clung to everything, to remind her, to punish her. She fucked up. But she knew that she couldn’t do this anymore. She couldn’t live her life without him, even if she wanted to. It had only been two weeks. Two weeks, without one single solitary word from him. And each day killed her. But today had been the final day. She wouldn’t take one more moment of this. She loved him.

“ ‘ey, Claudee!”

Albert and the boys looked up from their corner table, where they were in the middle of their Tuesday night poker game. It had been a while since she’d joined in the festivities. Even though she’d been feeling better this week, she just hadn’t felt much like playing any sort of game. Albert got up from the table and came over, wrapping his wiry arms around her frame, and pressing a kiss to her cheek. He smelled like whiskey and cigarettes - two things she had become very accustomed to. But when he stood back to look at her, his smile faded and from behind the round frames of his glasses, his eyes took on a worried squint.

“What’s a mattah, doll?” He took her hand gently when she didn’t answer, and led her to the bar, where he quickly went to work fixing her up a doctored version of lemonade. Claudia took a seat, barely watching him. She felt completely numb all over. She felt like she was dead. She felt like she didn’t know what to do with herself, and that at any moment, she might come to pieces.

“Drink up, an’ tell Albert what’s a mattah.” Albert sat himself on a stool behind the bar, arms on the countertop and watched her troubled face. She looked a wreck, that was for sure. He’d never seen Claudia dressed so... casually, with her hair obviously unbrushed, and in general disarray. It was odd. Claudia took a long sip of the lemonade, grateful for how cool and sweet it was. She’d forgotten about sweetness. She looked at him, feeling almost too tired to imagine talking. But she’d come here afterall. There must have been a reason.

“I’m just... I’m tired, Albert. Josh and I are having a little trouble, I guess.” She kept her eyes on her glass.

Albert nodded. “Yeah, I saw the news. Bad stuff wit’ the Creole an’ all.”

Claudia’s eyes flashed at him, almost dangerously for a moment. “What do you mean by that?” She fairly snapped at him, and she felt her face flush.

Albert swallowed, realizing that he shouldn’t have said anything. But everyone who knew anything around here, knew that Quentin had fucked with Josh London by way of his girlfriend. It had come as no surprise. Although, the gruesomeness of the situation did have some on edge. It was obvious that Claudia was sensitive about it though, obvious that this was the cause of her tortured demeanor. Albert reached out to touch the top of her hand gently.

“Don’ worry, Claudee. You jus’ relax, kin stay here as long as y’want.”

Claudia relaxed, and nodded, handing her glass to him for a refill. “Thanks.”


Claudia went to Rosa’s at around 8 o’clock the next morning. She had taken the longest way possible, so that she could pass by Josh’s apartment. Where she had been living for a while now. She stopped in front of the door, looked up at his window. And found that she couldn’t go in. Not yet. She needed to go to sleep. She needed to relax and figure out how she was going to handle this a little better, before she saw him again. Josh brought out the wildness of her emotions, and it was dangerous right now. Very dangerous.

Rosa had left a note on her pillow that basically asked politely if Claudia wouldn’t mind having some tea with her at some point, because she missed her niece a bit. Claudia felt bad about that, but not bad enough to respond at the moment. No one in her family would be able to understand what she was going through right now, and the very solitary nature of the situation frightened her. She’d never been anywhere in her life where her father couldn’t be there to hold her and take care of her. Take her by the hand and lead her out unscathed.

Claudia fell asleep, and didn’t stir until the phone rang. It rang a lot. Over and over. Until she finally sat up, and clumsily picked it up, taking a glance at the clock. It was nearly 6 o’c lock at night. Jesus.

“.. What.”
“Claudia?”
“...Yes.”
“It’s Eddie, honey.”
Claudia drew in a sharp breath, wiping a hand over her sleepy features. Why the hell was Eddie calling her? Why wasn’t Josh calling her? Her heart suddenly took a leap - What if Josh was hurt? She didn’t bother to hide the panic growing in her voice. “... What happened? Is Josh okay?”
“’course, everythin’s fine. Ah, he jus’ wanted me to give you a message.” Eddie paused, as if he weren’t sure how to relay the message. Claudia didn’t say a word. “He’s gone t’visit his mother, an’ says he’ll be back soon. I’m sure he woulda called ‘imself, but it was kinda last minute..”
“Thanks Eddie.” Claudia wasn’t panicking anymore. In fact, she was snapping. Fuck Josh. Fuck Eddie. Josh had left her? Left? That was fucking priceless, is what. Priceless.
“What a great time to bail, huh? Well, if you happen to speak to him you can let him know that I hope he had a marvelous time. I’ll be waiting for a fucking postcard!”
“Now Claud... I don’--”
“Oh, Eddie. Go jerk off.”
Claudia hung up the phone before he could reply to that.

Josh had gone away.

Left her.

She was really alone.

Eddie dropped by late in the evening. It'd been a long time since Claudia had gone on her "walk," which lasted all night and all day. Joshua had slept for quite a long time, and was incredibly dismayed to wake up and find she had not returned. He stayed in bed all day, not eating, just thinking and thinking until his brain felt like it was bleeding. Claudia didn't hate him for what he did, and she still loved him. But she was unsure of how she felt about him now that he'd killed her old friend, and couldn't bear to be around him for very long. It killed Josh, truly. He couldn't stay in his place any longer without her being there. It suddenly seemed too empty. He'd gotten used to her small body curled beside him at night, making her crummy sandwiches. It was like her ghost lingered to haunt him.

When Eddie arrived, Josh had an open suitcase on the bed. He packed it with various pairs of jeans, t-shirts, boxer shorts. Toothbrush. Eddie approached the bed carefully, his brow raised.

"So.. what, you had a fight with Claudia and now you're runnin' away to join the circus?"

"Funny, Ed. No, I'm goin' to see my Mom."

"Aw, yeah? That'll be nice, tell 'er hi for me. Is Claud goin'?"

"Ahh.. no." Josh closed his suitcase and snapped two locks in place with a sigh. "She don't wanna see me, Ed. I thought I'd broken through, but.. I can't do it. I tried everythin'. She ended up goin' for a walk last night and never comin' back."

"Ah, Jesus, Josh." Eddie shook his head. He remembered the scene from yesterday evening that took place in his own house. Saying it wasn't pretty would be an understatement. "So now you're just walkin'?"

"I can't stay here without her. And I didn't tell her, either, so.. just tell her for me, okay? Tell her I went home for a while, and I dunno how long I'll be gone. I just need to go somewhere and think, and she prob'ly does too."

Eddie squirmed a bit, his hands in his pockets. He didn't really want to deal with Claudia when she was so volatile, but he'd do it for his friend. "All right, Josh."

"Thanks, Ed." Josh slipped on his jacket and leaned over to kiss his broad-shouldered friend on the forehead. Eddie abashedly kept his eyes trained on the floor while Josh grabbed his suitcase and other things, before moving towards the door. "Come walk me out," he said. They left the place together.




"Joshua, I cannot believe you're here. This is such a nice surprise!"

"Ma, you cooked too much. How'm I gonna eat all this?" Josh sat at his mother's dinner table and looked at the chicken, corn, salad and biscuits, all laid out before him. He hadn't eaten in days, he knew he'd be full right away. Or maybe not-- it all smelled delicious.

His mother, Beverly, a sassy Southern gal with greying brown hair, scuttled about the kitchen pouring glasses of lemonade. "Well, just look'it you, boy. You're thinner than a maypole. You need some meat in you. Now eat up-- and drink up, too." She handed Josh his glass and he smiled mildly, taking a few long gulps. He loved to visit his mother, and always admonished himself for not doing it more often. The place had a lot of bad memories, but more good ones, he found. Her cooking was one of them. The absence of his father was one of the bad ones, though it had been years and years. He'd long since gotten married to someone new and abandoned his only son and wife. Even so, this house had its ghosts as well.

They ate and bantered, and Beverly outlined all the chores she needed to do which required a "young man's touch." The house was fairly big, in the middle of the lush Louisiana countryside, practically a small farm. Beverly and her sister, Josh's Aunt Etta, kept a couple of ponies and some cows, pigs and chickens here and there. Mostly for fun, rather than profit, though that was their source of income. Now that Josh was around, there was plenty for him to do, like stacking hay bales, emptying the pig troughs, mowing the grass, among other things. He would, of course, do them all. They would be fun, and take his mind off things.

Towards the end of the meal, the inevitable came up.

"So, Baby, where's my grandkids already, tuggin' at my skirt?"

"Ahh, none'a that, Ma. You know that."

"Well... are you seein' anyone, at least? Any nice girls?"

"Mm.. there is one." He scraped his remaining lettuce leaves along his plate as his mother's eyes lit up.

"Really? Oh, honey. That's fantastic! What's her name? Is she pretty? Do we know her? I know Fanny's daughter just moved to N'awlins, is it her?"

"Ah, no, she's a Yankee. From New York. Comes from money, an' all that. And yes, she's pretty... she's gorgeous. Her name's Claudia."

"From money! Well, Jesus." Beverly threw her hands up with a smile and stood to collect the dishes. "How come she isn't here?"

"Mm.. we're kinda on the outs. Rough patch, and all..."

Beverly stacked the dirty dishes in the sink and looked back curiously at her son, who had trailed off and was now staring with glazed eyes off into space. She returned to the table quietly, her hands on her hips and a smile curling onto her face. "Joshua. Is this a serious relationship? Are you.. Jesus Lord, are you in love with this girl?"

Joshua looked up at her with a guilty little smile. Beverly nearly squealed and grabbed his face with both hands, planting a huge, wet kiss on his forehead.

"Well, praise Jesus," she said. "Praise Him."

She walked back to the sink and Josh looked to the window, even with a feeling of sadness now, as the magnificent southern sunset descended behind the hills. He wanted to tell her not to talk like that so soon, to explain, but he was quiet; he wouldn't even know where to begin.