Johnny Pseudo
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Just something I wrote to experiment with; spent a lot of time combing over parts and re-writing scenes. Takes a few elements from another series I'm working on in order to provide a few minor details. Unfortunately, there's not a lot here that I hold in good regard, for different reasons. It seems alright, but something keeps bugging me about the banter between the two, and I don't really know why.
EDIT: Excuse the intermittent grammar errors. Seems I missed a few things when I posted this.
:redstar: :feather:
- - - - - - -
It was one of those days. You all know the kind; the kind of day that just screams “misery”. Dark clouds, rumbling thunder; one of those days where you just have a bad feeling about what's coming.
Today... yeah... today was just one of those days.
From down the asphault laden road came the beaten up old car. It was dented, dinged, and generally unkempt. The same could be said for both the driver, and the passenger carried within, if such an idea could be taken seriously.
With a low whine, the motor rumbled into an idle, as the screeching breaks brought the vehicle's momentum to a halt. The cabbie let his passenger out onto the corner of 38th, a prefered location for the man.
The locale? Dixon's, a small time bar where the liquor was cheap, and the women would give you an honest ear to talk to. At least there was that to be thankful for.
Shoving a hand into the tattered pocket of his brown trenchcoat, the passenger dropped a few crumpled bills into the outstretched hand of the driver. With a look of contempt, the cabbie quickly looked them over, noticing something was off. “Hey buddy, the fare was eight-seventy.”
Sighing, the man grumbled and fished around for a few coins. With a flick of his hand, the coins fell into the passenger's seat of the battered taxi. “Tch... Thanks a lot, asshole.” the driver muttered before gunning the old engine. The car sputtered and coughed before tearing away, leaving the man alone on the sidewalk.
“You too... little prick.” he mumbled, watching the thick grey fog rise from the tailpipe into the already darkening sky.
A cool November breeze rushed down the mostly empty streets of the run-down district. Overhead, the clouds were an angry blackish color. Lightning flickered across the sky, though the rumble of thunder was still yet to be heard. What little people were around scurried along the sidewalks, while others continued about as if nothing were happening. “Quite a world, isn't it...” the man mumbled under his breath. With a pat on his arms, he brushed the lint from the torn seat off from his coat; his legs carried him towards the door, which opened with the usual groan and squeal.
Casting a long gaze around the run-down bar, he immediately saw it's happy-go-lucky owner, Dixon. A guy in his mid thirties. The epitome of a stand-up-guy; Dixon'd probably give the shirt off his back for you if you really needed it, which was saying something, especially in this town. For the last four or five years, Charlie Dixon managed to turn this run down little building into something to take pride in. 'Course, with the record he had for collecting tab money, Jack was surprised he was still in business at all.
Then again, what did he care? As long as Charlie provided the liquor, he'd provide the monnets.
“Well well well... look what the dogs dragged in. The wonderful Jack Lucern.” Dixon chuckled, watching the man close the squealing door behind him.
“Hey, you forget, I'm one of the reasons you're still in business, Charles.” he joked, hanging his tattered trenchcoat off of the dusty arm of the coatrack near the door.
“You know, I wonder sometimes why I put up with your shit, Jack.” the bartender quipped, leaning down to wipe off the mahogany countertop.
“Maybe it's because my tab isn't months overdue like most of the other guys you got coming in here?”
Dixon paused, reaming the rag out into a sink behind him. “You got a good point, I'll give you that. What'll it be, the usual?” Jack nodded, taking a seat in the corner booth at the back of the room. Off in the opposite corner, he listened to the pianist, Eddie, rattle off a few shallow keys. The sounds of the meloncholy tune echoed inside the dimly lit bar. A few other patrons around the bar chattered about, paying him no mind. Lots of gloomy faces today.
Shit. Nobody ever seems to smile anymore. The world can't be that bad out there, can it?
“Jeez, don't you ever eat? Or are you on a liquid only diet?” a voice rang out, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned, facing its owner, slightly surprised at what he saw. “Hah, you're one to talk. What's the high and mighty Cassandra doing in a place like this?” he spoke, watching as the woman turned to face him.
“Same thing you are, Jack. Escaping my problems.” she laughed, before taking a sip of her margarita.
Cassandra Torres, another investigator working for the same precinct he did... well... used to. She was around twenty-five or maybe twenty-six, just a few years younger than himself. The girl was definitely a looker; rich, mahogany colored hair that reached down just past her shoulders, a nice tan skin-tone, and piercing green eyes. Most of the time, she was always dressed in tight fitting blue jeans, a red blouse, and her boots. Today however, she was dolled up; a black miniskirt, matching pumps, and a white blouse with a small black jacket. Jack always thought she was attractive, and she knew he did. However, it wasn't just superficial, it was more than that. The girl was definitely smart, hardworking and the like. She'd make a fine catch, granted, you could take whatever she decided to dish out.
It was always a treat to see her, even if they did end up getting into drawn out arguments... Which, usually happened more often than not.
Rolling up his sleeves, Jack unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, exposing a flash of his lightly tanned skin. One of Dixon's girls brought Jack his drink, whiskey on the rocks. Taking the drink up, he watched her walk away. Cynthia was cute, always cheerful when he came around. Hell, if she were a few years older, Jack probably would have made a pass at her too. He never did understand what could make a girl like her work in a place like this, let alone a town like Corthalon. In any case, she was, and he was thankful for it. One quick gulp later, and he was down half a drink.
Setting the glass down, he winced a little at the burn building in the back of his throat. Before long, the pain subsided, leaving a subtly warm feeling in it's place. He decided to take his revolver out from his shoulder holster, setting it down onto the table with a light thud. Jack swirled the glass around with his free hand, letting out a low breath. “Damn, you ever going to get some good whisky in, Dixon?” he asked, looking towards the older man. Without pausing, Dixon merely shook his head and laughed. “Heh, yeah, right. I'll get some better whisky when you give me a couple hundred thousand to renovate this place.”
With a roll of his eyes, Jack settled back into the plush leather of the booth. He wasn't about to get into another strung-out debate with Charlie, not like last time he was here. In fact, that's probably why he didn't want to get hammered this time. “So Lucern, how's the business treating you?” Cass asked, taking a longdrink of her margarita shortly afterwards. The man gave her a shrug, crossing his arms. “Oh, you know. Same as ever. Always a day late and a dollar short. Yet... here I am, wallowing away with this cheap glass of whiskey in my hand.”
The woman crossed one leg over the other while he spoke. Her brown bangs were swept away by her hand as he finished. “Rainbows and sunshine as always, I see.” she replied, “Not too surprising, considering it's you I'm talking about.” Cassandra watched him quickly down the rest of his liquor, tapping the glass upon the table to get another. “A bit harsh, don't you think? We all can't have nice, cushy jobs where the biggest decision we can make every day is whether or not to use black or blue ink. Then again, it's a give and take world out there, what can I say? I guess I'm just better at taking it than most other people around here.” the detective chided, giving a quick cough. Cynthia quickly brought him another couple of drinks, much to his delight.
The woman scoffed, she couldn't help it. She had been in a number of conversations with Jack, much to her dismay. Usually, there was a hidden motive in what he said; he was good at indirectly speaking his mind. Jack could be pretty smart... when he wanted to be. Sliding her drink across the table, she turned her chair so she was facing towards him. Better to have some kind of company, rather than none at all, right?
“You know–“ Lucern started, pointing a finger towards her, “– everytime I see you, I say to myself that you can't get any better looking. Every time I say this, Ms. Torres, you humbly prove me wrong, did you know that?” He couldn't stop himself from laughing at the sight of her beginning to blush. “You're so full of it.” she quipped while trying to give him a cross look. While the two eyed each other, Eddie started to play a livlier tune, making the bar seem a little more hospitable, in light of the drunks.
Jack's hand swept across the stubble of his chin, before gesturing towards the other glass of whiskey. “Ha, maybe later. Then again, I don't know how you could stomach that stuff, I can smell it from here!” she whispered, making a face. “Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it. Better than that silly fru-fru stuff you've got.”
The young woman pouted slightly, taking up the drink in her hand. “What's wrong with my silly fru-fru drink?” she replied, raising it up. “I think it's pretty good; must be the fourth one or so I've gotten through today...” she sighed complacently. Lucern put his arms up defensively, “Hey, whatever floats your boat, I suppose. Drinks aside, how are things going for you? Last I heard, Byrnes was in the deep end of some kind of new scandal or some shit. Doesn't surprise me... the fat bastard.”
Cassandra groaned, crossing one of her long legs over the other. “Deep end doesn't even begin to describe it. I heard it was some sort of embezzling charge; real hush-hush. A few of the other girls at the precinct think he'll just bribe his way out of it. Corrupt asshole...” she grumbled, finishing the contents of her thin glass. “Tch–” Jack scoffed, rubbing his arm. “–I don't know how you put up with him as your boss. If it's not trouble with internal affairs, it's trouble with the women in the precinct. Speaking of which, I also heard he was asking around for your number–“
“– Let's not go there. I already got enough ribbing to last a lifetime over this.” she dryly noted with a shudder. “Well, if you ask me, you two would make a very cute couple.” the man whispered, obviously pleased at her hasty reply. Cassandra leaned in towards him; if looks could kill, he'd have been dead. “Well, I didn't ask you, Jack. Now did I?”
An intermission of silence, with neither one saying a word. Eventually, it broke, as they began remiscing of old times. More drinks were had, and the mood seemed to become more lax. Sometime during all this, the heavens above decided to unleash their torrents of rain upon the quiet city. Raindrops hammered the roof overhead, and wind whipped along through the number of alleyways and streets.
Cassandra was beginning to feel bubbly, and a warm cascading feeling slowly trickled throughout her body. Surely, it was a sign to slow down on the drinking, but it had been a while since she and Jack had done something like this.
“You know, something's been bothering me for a while now.” Cassandra quipped, watching her heel dangle off from the edge of her toes. “Oh, and what's that?” came the reply. She looked over towards him, noticing his gaze was also on her foot. “... Why'd you leave the force?”
Once the last word left her breath, she could tell his mind was already ing motion. A heavy sigh escaped from within him before he sat up. “It's... complicated.” he spoke, running a finger along the top of the thick glass. “Too many problems, never enough solutions. I guess you could say I'd had enough, that I didn't feel like I was making much headway in making this city a better place.” Jack laughed a little, mostly at himself. “Yeah, right, what was I thinking. It takes more than one man to make a difference in life. Ideals and hard work only get you so far, and most of the time, it's hardly enough to warrant feeling good about. I don't know...”
Cassandra could tell he was thinking hard about it, it wasn't a surprise really; Jack always had a knack for over-thinking things. Perhaps that was his best quality though, but it was also one that he judged himself constantly on. “Sometimes all it takes to set the wheels in motion is one man, Jack. You always gave more effort than anyone else I ever saw down there. When you left, a lot of people just... well, they didn't know what to do, to put it bluntly. It wasn't long after you left that Byrnes came in, and well... we both know how that's going.”
Taking the glass up in his hand, he brought it up to his lips, but stopped. “Hmph, I wonder who pulled the strings for his sorry ass to come in. I can tell you one thing, as long as he's running the police department, and Einsworth is running things from the mayor's office, it's going to be a long time before we see the end of crooked doings around here.”
The two sat in silence once again, each taking drinks from their respective glasses. “You know, it's kind of sad to see this town in the shape it's in. Before Einsworth and his cabinet of advisors came around, this city used to have it pretty good.” the girl added, listening to the patter of rain outside. “Crime wasn't as bad, and everything just seemed... better... I guess.”
Lucern listened, brining his hands behind his head. “Well, you can't really say it's a shock, considering when Einsworth came along, he had his hands in almost every crooked scheme you could think of. He just put on a facade for the city so they'd elect him mayor.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at him, “Really now? And what makes you say that?”
“Let me explain to you how things usually are.” he replied, taking a long drink from his glass before setting it onto the table with a dull thud.
“... You've got losers. Scum. Criminals.” he counted, raising a finger for each. “ Rag-tag groups of ne'er-do-wells who think that the entire city and everyone in it should revolve around them, pandering to every little thing they try and accomplish. Do they succeed in making a name for themselves? Sure. It's not hard when you're a low-life scumbag who gets kicks from harming the innocent, and taking what others have so patiently worked for.”
Cassandra nodded, listening intently to what he said. She was surprised he was still coherent enough to be giving a decent argument, considering how much drink he'd already injested.
“Then again, it's a give-and-take world, isn't it? You'd think the level of corruption ends at the bottom rung, with the degenerates, but no, onward it marches, until it worms it's way into the higher echelons of government-” Clearing his throat he graciously took another drink before continuing on. “Don't get me wrong though, I'm not some guy who willingly chooses to expose what's going on around here. Everyone can see it; there's nothing I could tell you, or anyone else out there that they wouldn't already know, or have some inkling of knowing. There's only so much that the beat cops can do about it, let alone the people in power not in the back pocket of Einsworth. Hell, way I see things, it'll only be another few years tops before Einsworth has his stubbie little fingers in everything he can think of.”
Sighing, Jack settled back against the booth, rubbing the temples of his head. “Hey, Cynthia, another round over here! If you'd be so kind.” he shouted, watching as the girl started pulling glasses down.
“So... then, where does that leave people like you and me, Jack?” came the question. Cassandra crossed one of her legs over the other, letting her high heel dangle.
Cynthia brought over another bottle of whiskey, pouring them both a glass. Before she left, he stopped her and graciously took the bottle, giving her a crumpled wad of various bills. “Good question–” he began, filling the glasses up to the top. “–I guess people like you and me have to find a medium between corruption, and what's right. The better question is, which side of the line is really right?”
Leaning forward, he tapped upon the table with his finger, “You know as well as I do that sometimes the good guys have to bend the rules to get what they want. Try all you want to walk the straight-and-narrow, but there's a lot of times where you have to get your hands dirty to see justice served. If you know the guy is guilty, and everyone else knows he is, why shouldn't he get thrown behind bars?”
The young woman continued dangling her heel; a few times it almost slipped, but she managed to keep it on, despite feeling quite bubbly. With a long sigh, she looked to him, “I don't know. But what if he's genuinely innocent?”
“Ah, but therin lies the problem. How would you go about proving your innocence if it seems that your undiniably guilty?” came his reply.
“That's a good question, but there's always a way. If you think that we're always trying to find a happy medium between right and wrong, then, honestly, what do we do for society? What's the point in being a detective if seemingly nothing good comes from it? Surely you don't wear that ratty old jacket around with your gun just to make a fashion statement... but then again...”
Grasping the thick glass, he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “No actually, I don't. The way I see it, you and I do something for humanity that far outweighs most of what we do as detectives–“ The man paused, taking a long gulp; in no time, the glass was empty again. A few coughs escaped his throat, before he ran a hand through his scruffy hair. Cassandra listened to him continue, albeit with a much raspier tone, almost like the sound of someone who'd just gotten sick.
“See, that thing is a sense of peace. Sometimes all you need is a sense of solice to get by on. It's not much... and most of the time it doesn't last very long, but when you've got nothing else to look forward to when the world seems it's darkest, at least there's that.”
“My my, look at you being all philosophical. It's a shame you don't act this way when you're sober.” she jested, softly clapping her hands together.
“Yeah, well... how often are our conversations serious? Better yet, how many times do our paths cross here?” he retorted, shifting hiz gaze to her foot, watching her heel coming dangerously close to falling off.
“Heehee... Guess it depends on how much we've had to drink...” she giggled, letting the shoe finally fall off from her foot. Cassandra took a minute to stretch her legs, bringing them to rest on the top of the table. “I see all those margarita's are finally starting to hit you, huh?” he laughed, rubbing his shoulder. “Ah... I think you're right. Shit... I've got a meeting with Lieutenant Byrnes later tonight too...”
Jack scoffed, reaching into his pocket for his crumpled pack of cigarettes. Lighting one up, he took a deep drag off of it before tapping the ash off. “Hey, forget Byrnes. You show up dressed like that, and that fat bastard'll have an a heart attack before he even gets a word out.”
“Hahaha! Oh god... you're probably right...” she laughed, grabbing hold of her sides. It took a few moments for Cassandra to settle down, but she managed. Wiping the corners of her eyes, she blinked away a few tears before adding, “As much as I like the thought of telling Byrnes to go fuck himself, I have to go... Besides, what would I do instead?”
Taking another puff of his cigarette, Jack did his best to hide his growing smile. “Well... I figured we could do with a bit of sobering up. Maybe grab a bite to eat down at Rafael's?” He could tell she was mulling it over by the way she tapped the side of her cheek. “Hmm... I haven't been to Rafael's in a long time... Can't even remember the last time I was... ah.. well...”
“... Asked out on a date?” Jack finished, leaning against the table. Cassandra's eyes widened a bit, watching the smile finally break out across his face. “Well... I...Yeah, I guess you could say that..” she finally replied, swirling the contents of her glass around. Their gazes finally met, before another stint of silence followed. “... So what'll it be? You going to leave me hanging out to dry, or are you going to do something fun for once? Lord knows your grumpy ass could use it.” he added, patting the legs of his pants. He looked up, shooting her a half-cocked grin.
“... Excuse me?” she rebuffed, trying not to let her own creeping grin give her serious edge away. “You're the one that could use a bit of lightening up. Hell, when was the last time you did something fun?”
“Hey, I always have fun whenever I pick on you, Miss High-and-Mighty.” Jack laughed, giving her feet a quick tickle. With a squeal, she pulled her legs off the table and shoved them back into her heels. “Heeeyee! Ugh... fine; you win Jack. I'll bite.” she laughed, quickly standing up. “Good. It's the kind of day you want to spend in good company anyway; and fortunately for you, I'm the best you've got.” he quipped, securing the holster back around his shoulder. Standing up, he left another set of crumpled bills on the table, quickly giving a wave over to Cynthia.
The waitress gave the two a wave before offering her thanks.. Charlie came around from serving another few customers; “Hey, don't thank him. Asshole nearly drank all the whisky I had in here.”
“Yeah, whatever Charlie. As long as I keep paying my tab, you'll be alright.” he rebuffed, waving him off.
The bartender put his hands on his hips, watching Cassandra take hold of the man's arm. “Hey, Cass! Better watch out for Jack. He might just sweep you off your feet one of these days; that is, if you don't end up kickin' his ass before he gets the chance.”
The two detectives looked at each other for a second. Almost immediately, they both started to laugh before openeing the door and stumbling out. Taking to the sidewalk, they began the short trip over to Rafael's; just a few blocks down the road. High above them, the clouds were parting, giving way to the deep hue of the amber colored afternoon sunset. Lucern listened to Cassandra talk about one of the cases she was working on before he stoped, gazing up at the sky.
“So anyway, I told her, that she should.... Hey. What's wrong?” she asked, coming to a halt in front of him. From somewhere off in the distance the two heard the sounds of birds chirping. A gentle breeze blew down the lonely street, ruffling their hair. Jack could feel the trickles of sunlight against his skin, it felt... good. “Wow... look at that sunset... the forecasts said it'd be raining all afternoon. Guess we got lucky, didn't we?” she chimed in, closing her eyes to the warm rays.
Smiling, he shook his head, “Looks like you're right, Cassandra. Looks we got our little bit of peace after all today, huh? Anyway, as you were saying?” he replied, offering her his arm.
With those words, the two started on once again, arm in arm down the long sidewalk.
EDIT: Excuse the intermittent grammar errors. Seems I missed a few things when I posted this.
:redstar: :feather:
- - - - - - -
It was one of those days. You all know the kind; the kind of day that just screams “misery”. Dark clouds, rumbling thunder; one of those days where you just have a bad feeling about what's coming.
Today... yeah... today was just one of those days.
From down the asphault laden road came the beaten up old car. It was dented, dinged, and generally unkempt. The same could be said for both the driver, and the passenger carried within, if such an idea could be taken seriously.
With a low whine, the motor rumbled into an idle, as the screeching breaks brought the vehicle's momentum to a halt. The cabbie let his passenger out onto the corner of 38th, a prefered location for the man.
The locale? Dixon's, a small time bar where the liquor was cheap, and the women would give you an honest ear to talk to. At least there was that to be thankful for.
Shoving a hand into the tattered pocket of his brown trenchcoat, the passenger dropped a few crumpled bills into the outstretched hand of the driver. With a look of contempt, the cabbie quickly looked them over, noticing something was off. “Hey buddy, the fare was eight-seventy.”
Sighing, the man grumbled and fished around for a few coins. With a flick of his hand, the coins fell into the passenger's seat of the battered taxi. “Tch... Thanks a lot, asshole.” the driver muttered before gunning the old engine. The car sputtered and coughed before tearing away, leaving the man alone on the sidewalk.
“You too... little prick.” he mumbled, watching the thick grey fog rise from the tailpipe into the already darkening sky.
A cool November breeze rushed down the mostly empty streets of the run-down district. Overhead, the clouds were an angry blackish color. Lightning flickered across the sky, though the rumble of thunder was still yet to be heard. What little people were around scurried along the sidewalks, while others continued about as if nothing were happening. “Quite a world, isn't it...” the man mumbled under his breath. With a pat on his arms, he brushed the lint from the torn seat off from his coat; his legs carried him towards the door, which opened with the usual groan and squeal.
Casting a long gaze around the run-down bar, he immediately saw it's happy-go-lucky owner, Dixon. A guy in his mid thirties. The epitome of a stand-up-guy; Dixon'd probably give the shirt off his back for you if you really needed it, which was saying something, especially in this town. For the last four or five years, Charlie Dixon managed to turn this run down little building into something to take pride in. 'Course, with the record he had for collecting tab money, Jack was surprised he was still in business at all.
Then again, what did he care? As long as Charlie provided the liquor, he'd provide the monnets.
“Well well well... look what the dogs dragged in. The wonderful Jack Lucern.” Dixon chuckled, watching the man close the squealing door behind him.
“Hey, you forget, I'm one of the reasons you're still in business, Charles.” he joked, hanging his tattered trenchcoat off of the dusty arm of the coatrack near the door.
“You know, I wonder sometimes why I put up with your shit, Jack.” the bartender quipped, leaning down to wipe off the mahogany countertop.
“Maybe it's because my tab isn't months overdue like most of the other guys you got coming in here?”
Dixon paused, reaming the rag out into a sink behind him. “You got a good point, I'll give you that. What'll it be, the usual?” Jack nodded, taking a seat in the corner booth at the back of the room. Off in the opposite corner, he listened to the pianist, Eddie, rattle off a few shallow keys. The sounds of the meloncholy tune echoed inside the dimly lit bar. A few other patrons around the bar chattered about, paying him no mind. Lots of gloomy faces today.
Shit. Nobody ever seems to smile anymore. The world can't be that bad out there, can it?
“Jeez, don't you ever eat? Or are you on a liquid only diet?” a voice rang out, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned, facing its owner, slightly surprised at what he saw. “Hah, you're one to talk. What's the high and mighty Cassandra doing in a place like this?” he spoke, watching as the woman turned to face him.
“Same thing you are, Jack. Escaping my problems.” she laughed, before taking a sip of her margarita.
Cassandra Torres, another investigator working for the same precinct he did... well... used to. She was around twenty-five or maybe twenty-six, just a few years younger than himself. The girl was definitely a looker; rich, mahogany colored hair that reached down just past her shoulders, a nice tan skin-tone, and piercing green eyes. Most of the time, she was always dressed in tight fitting blue jeans, a red blouse, and her boots. Today however, she was dolled up; a black miniskirt, matching pumps, and a white blouse with a small black jacket. Jack always thought she was attractive, and she knew he did. However, it wasn't just superficial, it was more than that. The girl was definitely smart, hardworking and the like. She'd make a fine catch, granted, you could take whatever she decided to dish out.
It was always a treat to see her, even if they did end up getting into drawn out arguments... Which, usually happened more often than not.
Rolling up his sleeves, Jack unbuttoned the first few buttons of his shirt, exposing a flash of his lightly tanned skin. One of Dixon's girls brought Jack his drink, whiskey on the rocks. Taking the drink up, he watched her walk away. Cynthia was cute, always cheerful when he came around. Hell, if she were a few years older, Jack probably would have made a pass at her too. He never did understand what could make a girl like her work in a place like this, let alone a town like Corthalon. In any case, she was, and he was thankful for it. One quick gulp later, and he was down half a drink.
Setting the glass down, he winced a little at the burn building in the back of his throat. Before long, the pain subsided, leaving a subtly warm feeling in it's place. He decided to take his revolver out from his shoulder holster, setting it down onto the table with a light thud. Jack swirled the glass around with his free hand, letting out a low breath. “Damn, you ever going to get some good whisky in, Dixon?” he asked, looking towards the older man. Without pausing, Dixon merely shook his head and laughed. “Heh, yeah, right. I'll get some better whisky when you give me a couple hundred thousand to renovate this place.”
With a roll of his eyes, Jack settled back into the plush leather of the booth. He wasn't about to get into another strung-out debate with Charlie, not like last time he was here. In fact, that's probably why he didn't want to get hammered this time. “So Lucern, how's the business treating you?” Cass asked, taking a longdrink of her margarita shortly afterwards. The man gave her a shrug, crossing his arms. “Oh, you know. Same as ever. Always a day late and a dollar short. Yet... here I am, wallowing away with this cheap glass of whiskey in my hand.”
The woman crossed one leg over the other while he spoke. Her brown bangs were swept away by her hand as he finished. “Rainbows and sunshine as always, I see.” she replied, “Not too surprising, considering it's you I'm talking about.” Cassandra watched him quickly down the rest of his liquor, tapping the glass upon the table to get another. “A bit harsh, don't you think? We all can't have nice, cushy jobs where the biggest decision we can make every day is whether or not to use black or blue ink. Then again, it's a give and take world out there, what can I say? I guess I'm just better at taking it than most other people around here.” the detective chided, giving a quick cough. Cynthia quickly brought him another couple of drinks, much to his delight.
The woman scoffed, she couldn't help it. She had been in a number of conversations with Jack, much to her dismay. Usually, there was a hidden motive in what he said; he was good at indirectly speaking his mind. Jack could be pretty smart... when he wanted to be. Sliding her drink across the table, she turned her chair so she was facing towards him. Better to have some kind of company, rather than none at all, right?
“You know–“ Lucern started, pointing a finger towards her, “– everytime I see you, I say to myself that you can't get any better looking. Every time I say this, Ms. Torres, you humbly prove me wrong, did you know that?” He couldn't stop himself from laughing at the sight of her beginning to blush. “You're so full of it.” she quipped while trying to give him a cross look. While the two eyed each other, Eddie started to play a livlier tune, making the bar seem a little more hospitable, in light of the drunks.
Jack's hand swept across the stubble of his chin, before gesturing towards the other glass of whiskey. “Ha, maybe later. Then again, I don't know how you could stomach that stuff, I can smell it from here!” she whispered, making a face. “Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it. Better than that silly fru-fru stuff you've got.”
The young woman pouted slightly, taking up the drink in her hand. “What's wrong with my silly fru-fru drink?” she replied, raising it up. “I think it's pretty good; must be the fourth one or so I've gotten through today...” she sighed complacently. Lucern put his arms up defensively, “Hey, whatever floats your boat, I suppose. Drinks aside, how are things going for you? Last I heard, Byrnes was in the deep end of some kind of new scandal or some shit. Doesn't surprise me... the fat bastard.”
Cassandra groaned, crossing one of her long legs over the other. “Deep end doesn't even begin to describe it. I heard it was some sort of embezzling charge; real hush-hush. A few of the other girls at the precinct think he'll just bribe his way out of it. Corrupt asshole...” she grumbled, finishing the contents of her thin glass. “Tch–” Jack scoffed, rubbing his arm. “–I don't know how you put up with him as your boss. If it's not trouble with internal affairs, it's trouble with the women in the precinct. Speaking of which, I also heard he was asking around for your number–“
“– Let's not go there. I already got enough ribbing to last a lifetime over this.” she dryly noted with a shudder. “Well, if you ask me, you two would make a very cute couple.” the man whispered, obviously pleased at her hasty reply. Cassandra leaned in towards him; if looks could kill, he'd have been dead. “Well, I didn't ask you, Jack. Now did I?”
An intermission of silence, with neither one saying a word. Eventually, it broke, as they began remiscing of old times. More drinks were had, and the mood seemed to become more lax. Sometime during all this, the heavens above decided to unleash their torrents of rain upon the quiet city. Raindrops hammered the roof overhead, and wind whipped along through the number of alleyways and streets.
Cassandra was beginning to feel bubbly, and a warm cascading feeling slowly trickled throughout her body. Surely, it was a sign to slow down on the drinking, but it had been a while since she and Jack had done something like this.
“You know, something's been bothering me for a while now.” Cassandra quipped, watching her heel dangle off from the edge of her toes. “Oh, and what's that?” came the reply. She looked over towards him, noticing his gaze was also on her foot. “... Why'd you leave the force?”
Once the last word left her breath, she could tell his mind was already ing motion. A heavy sigh escaped from within him before he sat up. “It's... complicated.” he spoke, running a finger along the top of the thick glass. “Too many problems, never enough solutions. I guess you could say I'd had enough, that I didn't feel like I was making much headway in making this city a better place.” Jack laughed a little, mostly at himself. “Yeah, right, what was I thinking. It takes more than one man to make a difference in life. Ideals and hard work only get you so far, and most of the time, it's hardly enough to warrant feeling good about. I don't know...”
Cassandra could tell he was thinking hard about it, it wasn't a surprise really; Jack always had a knack for over-thinking things. Perhaps that was his best quality though, but it was also one that he judged himself constantly on. “Sometimes all it takes to set the wheels in motion is one man, Jack. You always gave more effort than anyone else I ever saw down there. When you left, a lot of people just... well, they didn't know what to do, to put it bluntly. It wasn't long after you left that Byrnes came in, and well... we both know how that's going.”
Taking the glass up in his hand, he brought it up to his lips, but stopped. “Hmph, I wonder who pulled the strings for his sorry ass to come in. I can tell you one thing, as long as he's running the police department, and Einsworth is running things from the mayor's office, it's going to be a long time before we see the end of crooked doings around here.”
The two sat in silence once again, each taking drinks from their respective glasses. “You know, it's kind of sad to see this town in the shape it's in. Before Einsworth and his cabinet of advisors came around, this city used to have it pretty good.” the girl added, listening to the patter of rain outside. “Crime wasn't as bad, and everything just seemed... better... I guess.”
Lucern listened, brining his hands behind his head. “Well, you can't really say it's a shock, considering when Einsworth came along, he had his hands in almost every crooked scheme you could think of. He just put on a facade for the city so they'd elect him mayor.”
The woman narrowed her eyes at him, “Really now? And what makes you say that?”
“Let me explain to you how things usually are.” he replied, taking a long drink from his glass before setting it onto the table with a dull thud.
“... You've got losers. Scum. Criminals.” he counted, raising a finger for each. “ Rag-tag groups of ne'er-do-wells who think that the entire city and everyone in it should revolve around them, pandering to every little thing they try and accomplish. Do they succeed in making a name for themselves? Sure. It's not hard when you're a low-life scumbag who gets kicks from harming the innocent, and taking what others have so patiently worked for.”
Cassandra nodded, listening intently to what he said. She was surprised he was still coherent enough to be giving a decent argument, considering how much drink he'd already injested.
“Then again, it's a give-and-take world, isn't it? You'd think the level of corruption ends at the bottom rung, with the degenerates, but no, onward it marches, until it worms it's way into the higher echelons of government-” Clearing his throat he graciously took another drink before continuing on. “Don't get me wrong though, I'm not some guy who willingly chooses to expose what's going on around here. Everyone can see it; there's nothing I could tell you, or anyone else out there that they wouldn't already know, or have some inkling of knowing. There's only so much that the beat cops can do about it, let alone the people in power not in the back pocket of Einsworth. Hell, way I see things, it'll only be another few years tops before Einsworth has his stubbie little fingers in everything he can think of.”
Sighing, Jack settled back against the booth, rubbing the temples of his head. “Hey, Cynthia, another round over here! If you'd be so kind.” he shouted, watching as the girl started pulling glasses down.
“So... then, where does that leave people like you and me, Jack?” came the question. Cassandra crossed one of her legs over the other, letting her high heel dangle.
Cynthia brought over another bottle of whiskey, pouring them both a glass. Before she left, he stopped her and graciously took the bottle, giving her a crumpled wad of various bills. “Good question–” he began, filling the glasses up to the top. “–I guess people like you and me have to find a medium between corruption, and what's right. The better question is, which side of the line is really right?”
Leaning forward, he tapped upon the table with his finger, “You know as well as I do that sometimes the good guys have to bend the rules to get what they want. Try all you want to walk the straight-and-narrow, but there's a lot of times where you have to get your hands dirty to see justice served. If you know the guy is guilty, and everyone else knows he is, why shouldn't he get thrown behind bars?”
The young woman continued dangling her heel; a few times it almost slipped, but she managed to keep it on, despite feeling quite bubbly. With a long sigh, she looked to him, “I don't know. But what if he's genuinely innocent?”
“Ah, but therin lies the problem. How would you go about proving your innocence if it seems that your undiniably guilty?” came his reply.
“That's a good question, but there's always a way. If you think that we're always trying to find a happy medium between right and wrong, then, honestly, what do we do for society? What's the point in being a detective if seemingly nothing good comes from it? Surely you don't wear that ratty old jacket around with your gun just to make a fashion statement... but then again...”
Grasping the thick glass, he narrowed his eyes at the woman. “No actually, I don't. The way I see it, you and I do something for humanity that far outweighs most of what we do as detectives–“ The man paused, taking a long gulp; in no time, the glass was empty again. A few coughs escaped his throat, before he ran a hand through his scruffy hair. Cassandra listened to him continue, albeit with a much raspier tone, almost like the sound of someone who'd just gotten sick.
“See, that thing is a sense of peace. Sometimes all you need is a sense of solice to get by on. It's not much... and most of the time it doesn't last very long, but when you've got nothing else to look forward to when the world seems it's darkest, at least there's that.”
“My my, look at you being all philosophical. It's a shame you don't act this way when you're sober.” she jested, softly clapping her hands together.
“Yeah, well... how often are our conversations serious? Better yet, how many times do our paths cross here?” he retorted, shifting hiz gaze to her foot, watching her heel coming dangerously close to falling off.
“Heehee... Guess it depends on how much we've had to drink...” she giggled, letting the shoe finally fall off from her foot. Cassandra took a minute to stretch her legs, bringing them to rest on the top of the table. “I see all those margarita's are finally starting to hit you, huh?” he laughed, rubbing his shoulder. “Ah... I think you're right. Shit... I've got a meeting with Lieutenant Byrnes later tonight too...”
Jack scoffed, reaching into his pocket for his crumpled pack of cigarettes. Lighting one up, he took a deep drag off of it before tapping the ash off. “Hey, forget Byrnes. You show up dressed like that, and that fat bastard'll have an a heart attack before he even gets a word out.”
“Hahaha! Oh god... you're probably right...” she laughed, grabbing hold of her sides. It took a few moments for Cassandra to settle down, but she managed. Wiping the corners of her eyes, she blinked away a few tears before adding, “As much as I like the thought of telling Byrnes to go fuck himself, I have to go... Besides, what would I do instead?”
Taking another puff of his cigarette, Jack did his best to hide his growing smile. “Well... I figured we could do with a bit of sobering up. Maybe grab a bite to eat down at Rafael's?” He could tell she was mulling it over by the way she tapped the side of her cheek. “Hmm... I haven't been to Rafael's in a long time... Can't even remember the last time I was... ah.. well...”
“... Asked out on a date?” Jack finished, leaning against the table. Cassandra's eyes widened a bit, watching the smile finally break out across his face. “Well... I...Yeah, I guess you could say that..” she finally replied, swirling the contents of her glass around. Their gazes finally met, before another stint of silence followed. “... So what'll it be? You going to leave me hanging out to dry, or are you going to do something fun for once? Lord knows your grumpy ass could use it.” he added, patting the legs of his pants. He looked up, shooting her a half-cocked grin.
“... Excuse me?” she rebuffed, trying not to let her own creeping grin give her serious edge away. “You're the one that could use a bit of lightening up. Hell, when was the last time you did something fun?”
“Hey, I always have fun whenever I pick on you, Miss High-and-Mighty.” Jack laughed, giving her feet a quick tickle. With a squeal, she pulled her legs off the table and shoved them back into her heels. “Heeeyee! Ugh... fine; you win Jack. I'll bite.” she laughed, quickly standing up. “Good. It's the kind of day you want to spend in good company anyway; and fortunately for you, I'm the best you've got.” he quipped, securing the holster back around his shoulder. Standing up, he left another set of crumpled bills on the table, quickly giving a wave over to Cynthia.
The waitress gave the two a wave before offering her thanks.. Charlie came around from serving another few customers; “Hey, don't thank him. Asshole nearly drank all the whisky I had in here.”
“Yeah, whatever Charlie. As long as I keep paying my tab, you'll be alright.” he rebuffed, waving him off.
The bartender put his hands on his hips, watching Cassandra take hold of the man's arm. “Hey, Cass! Better watch out for Jack. He might just sweep you off your feet one of these days; that is, if you don't end up kickin' his ass before he gets the chance.”
The two detectives looked at each other for a second. Almost immediately, they both started to laugh before openeing the door and stumbling out. Taking to the sidewalk, they began the short trip over to Rafael's; just a few blocks down the road. High above them, the clouds were parting, giving way to the deep hue of the amber colored afternoon sunset. Lucern listened to Cassandra talk about one of the cases she was working on before he stoped, gazing up at the sky.
“So anyway, I told her, that she should.... Hey. What's wrong?” she asked, coming to a halt in front of him. From somewhere off in the distance the two heard the sounds of birds chirping. A gentle breeze blew down the lonely street, ruffling their hair. Jack could feel the trickles of sunlight against his skin, it felt... good. “Wow... look at that sunset... the forecasts said it'd be raining all afternoon. Guess we got lucky, didn't we?” she chimed in, closing her eyes to the warm rays.
Smiling, he shook his head, “Looks like you're right, Cassandra. Looks we got our little bit of peace after all today, huh? Anyway, as you were saying?” he replied, offering her his arm.
With those words, the two started on once again, arm in arm down the long sidewalk.
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