Topic: Wise Guys

Lelah · Date: 2011-03-31 17:57 EST

?What do you mean there's an outstanding balance? I paid the invoice in full last week! I have a canceled check with your company's imprint on it! The money's already been withdrawn from my account!?

Lelah was pacing back and forth in her loft in New Haven, shouting into her cell phone. It was nearly dark out; the sun had just begun making its slow descent towards the western shore when she had begun her phone call. After being on hold for some 35 minutes and speaking to no less than seven different secretaries and assistants, she finally had gotten through to the construction foreman.

?Look, Mr. Forneau, I went down to the site this morning and no one was there. There was a bunch of equipment and materials, but no workers. We were supposed to break ground today on the office building.?

Lelah fell silent for a moment as she listened to the foreman explain that there wouldn't be any workers on the site until the outstanding balance on the account was paid. ?Fine,? she said in a tone of voice that indicated that it was anything but. ?I'll be down to your office tomorrow morning, first thing, and I want you to show me this outstanding balance of yours. I want it in writing or I'm not paying it.?

There was another pause as Forneau delivered an ultimatum. Lelah snorted and the uppity New York bitch she'd long been accused of being came out. ?We had a contract, Mr. Forneau. A signed, witnessed contract that I filed with the appropriate people at City Hall. You don't start work tomorrow, and I'll sue your ass so fast you won't have time to ask for lube. Do I make myself clear?? When the foreman started cackling with laughter, she stabbed the off button on the phone and threw it against the couch.

Oscar, who was currently sitting on the couch, watching as his mistress paced back and forth in front of him, buried his head between his paws and whined. Lelah frowned and said in a somewhat more controlled voice, ?I'm sorry, Oscar. I didn't mean to scare you. I think this assh*le is asking me for a bribe. Can you believe that? Jesus, it's like I'm still doing business with the wise guys back home.? She sighed deeply and sat down hard on the couch, reaching out to scratch the little dog's ears. ?What the hell am I gonna do? I don't have money for bribes. I've dumped everything I have into this and there's nothing left.? Oscar scooted closer to her, laying his head on her leg, and looked up at her. ?Yeah, I know. How do I go to Alain or Julian or even 'Taya and explain the delays? I have a feeling that Alain ? and probably Julian, too ? is gonna be all up my back about this if I don't fix it before Monday. Do you think the assh*le will take payments on my bribe?? She snorted and stood, going back to the kitchen table which had become the headquarters of 21twelve studios until there was an actual office building.

With a huge sigh, she began going over the books one more time, cursing her inability to squeeze extra money from somewhere. She needed an accountant, or at least someone who had a magical way with numbers. Somewhere in the mess of her finances, there had to be a hidden cache of funds.

Lelah · Date: 2011-04-02 14:44 EST

The next day dawned cold and cloudy. The threat of rain lurked in the air like a mother-in-law's imminent arrival. By the time Lelah had finished her morning routine ? breakfast, forty-five minutes of Pilates, a shower, getting dressed, and making herself presentable ? the skies had opened up and buckets of rain were ruining her day.

She grabbed a Burberry rain coat off the pegs that stood next to the door and grabbed her obnoxiously yellow and cheery umbrella before calling the dog. She eventually found him hiding beneath the covers of Lelah's bed. He had to be dragged physically out the door and he made sure that she knew he wasn't pleased by throwing her dirty, dirty death looks. ?Well, excuse me, Your Royal Highness,? she grumped at Oscar. ?If I have to be out here, so do you. Misery loves company, after all, and you need to go for a walk.?

They walked past the Red Orc Brewery with its stench of decaying vegetable matter. How could something that smelled so awful taste so good? She briefly wondered what wine smelled like when it was being made and decided that it probably wasn't this horrible. Julian Marx seemed to be a rather fastidious man, not someone who ever got his hands dirty, so chances were good that wine making didn't stink. But then again, Julian Marx had people who weren't opposed to getting their hands dirty if that Addison guy was any example; even if wine making was a dirty business, Lelah doubted the Boss went anywhere near it.

Her route took her and the dog past the Red Dragon Inn, a spiritual spa, Teas n' Tomes ? she smiled and automatically glanced at her phone; he hadn't called yet, but she had the feeling that he would very soon ? through the Marketplace and then south to the construction site. The place was still deserted, but she could see a group of four or five men standing in front of the shed that was serving as the site's office. They were large men, the shortest of which probably had a foot and at least 100 pounds on her. She recognized Forneau amongst them and steeled herself for the inevitable confrontation.

?Mr. Forneau,? she said, plastering on her fakest, politest smile. ?I'm glad you're here. Will work be starting today??

Forneau, a prime example for evolutionists to point to and say, ?Behold! Cro-Magnon Man!?, turned slowly and made a show of looking Lelah over from head to toe with lascivious intent. She bristled under the examination, but figured that if looking got him working faster, she'd gladly accept the insult. ?Did you bring a check?? he asked.

?Did you bring an invoice?? Lelah countered.

?That ain't how it works, girlie,? Forneau growled. ?You bring us money, we work. Nice and easy. You don't bring us money, we don't work, your little project don't get finished. Get it?? He took a menacing step forwards, leaning down a bit and getting in Lelah's face.

She quailed under the massive, looming presence in front of her and found she couldn't hold his eyes for long. She looked down and nodded, her voice soft. ?I get it. Will 1,000 crowns cover it??

?A thousand?!? Forneau and the others of the Over-Hanging Brow Club guffawed and chuckled like Lelah had just unleashed a stand up routine to rival Robin Williams. ?Try five. Yeah, five. You bring us 5,000 crowns and we'll get started on your little project. You got until Monday, girlie.? He didn't bother with an 'or else', instead leaving it to Lelah's imagination.

She nodded and turned and ran off, practically dragging Oscar along with her. She didn't stop until she was past the Red Orc and by that time, the tears were mingling with the rain on her cheeks. When she arrived home, there were three large men waiting for her on her front stoop. ?Oh, god,? she groaned. ?What now?? As she got nearer, she was relieved to see a familiar blond ponytail on the smaller of the trio. ?Oh, thank god. Mr. Addison!?

Julian Marx's personal assistant, errand boy, whatever smiled that enigmatic smile as he handed her another expensive, creamy white envelope, sealed with old fashioned wax. She accepted it perfunctorily, a plan forming in the recesses of her mind. ?Mr. Addison, I wonder if you wouldn't mind carrying a note back to Mr. Marx for me? Come in out of the rain while I write it quickly.?

The trio of Mr. Universe contenders followed her into the loft and waited like conscientious bulls in a china shop while she jotted off a quick note outlining the trouble she was having with Forneau. When she was finished, she handed it to Mr. Addison, who took it carefully from her and slid it into the interior pocket of his suit jacket.

As they left, one of the two muscle-bound hangers on glanced towards the amber-colored vase she had sitting on the mantel. In a voice like rocks grinding together, he said, ?Nice Lalique,? and then firmly shut the door behind him. Oscar and Lelah exchanged looks of surprise.

Alain DeMuer · Date: 2011-04-06 11:28 EST

It had been a bad day.

Alain had woken up before six a.m. after little sleep, but still slept through his alarm for over an hour: he had to postpone an interview with a brewer in New Haven and rush to a meeting in the Barony, where two ambassadors managed to get into a fistfight over Alain and Sophie's alleged choice of dressmaker for the wedding. He shuffled around a few meetings to interview the brewer before lunch, who turned out to be an obsessive hophead (and obsessed with a few other herbs too, he suspected), and wouldn't let him politely leave the conversation until he had to do it abruptly.

A shipyard in Teobern caught fire, probable arson, with no suspects apprehended. The SPI network crashed and stayed down for three hours. Recent stitches in his side came open before dinner; afterward he went to the Inn to cool off, which proved a mistake almost as bad as choosing not to sleep through this entire Tuesday.

Lelah Rivka had hired contractors to handle the demolition at the future site of the studio and they had turned out to be thugs. Took the 'half first' she understandably assumed was standard operating procedure around here due to her experiences on Earth, and they had hit her up for five thousand silver in order to resume work. Alain doubted it would stop there, either: they would demand more cash, or neglect to do their job regardless.

Meeting with Lelah in a booth at the Inn, Alain assured her that he was going to talk to them, implied that he might scare them a little, but assured her "hurting a man over money isn't worth it." But somewhere between the time Reap was shot point blank through a window in the Inn at the end of their meeting, the ensuing standoff which involved nearly getting shot in the back (a slight he was unlikely to forget), dragging him upstairs and bribing a doctor with the better part of his pocket money to stay with him all night and keep it off the Watch's books, and finding out soon after he'd left that an old friend of his had knocked one of his guards around the head... Alain stopped seeing reason and started seeing red.

Around midnight he found Forneau. A man in his field, with work he was supposed to be doing at any of a number of sites in the morning, should have been at home in bed or at least getting ready to hit the road: maybe Alain's anger skewed his perception, but Forneau didn't strike him as being on his way home from his favorite bar. He'd gotten thrown out of the first place, and from Alain was standing it seemed he was heading to the next dive with his buddies, no doubt spending Alain's money on drinks.

"Forneau!"

The foreman turned slowly, and so did his five friends. They leered at Alain and the medium-built Irish-looking guy hovering in his shadow. Neither looked very tough from where they were standing, which may have been a mistake on Alain's part... or a mistake he intended to make. Come on, you jerks. Bring it on. "Who wants to know?" Forneau shot back, and laughed as he gestured to his friends.

"You stole my money, Forneau." Everyone but Alain and his companion went still at that; the two closed in on the group, Alain stepping right up into the foreman's face. "From where I'm standing, you've made off with five thousand silver crowns of my money," he growled, "and you have the gall to demand five thousand more from my associates. Sounds an awful lot like a thief to me."

Forneau stared wide-eyed for a moment, then calmed right back down, the easy drunken confidence taking over; he grinned down at Alain, grabbing a handful of the shorter man's coat. "Sounds an awful lot like you're in over your head, big guy. C'mon, fellas. Let's play!"

In moments Alain and Seamus were rushed, dragged off into an alleyway, but they didn't seem to struggle at all until they reached it, out of sight of the street; suddenly the knight yanked his scabbard from his hip, disarming Forneau's five friends in a single moment. And Alain had Forneau's jaw in his right hand, fingers curling into his bones, threatening to squeeze; the man was pinned against the slimy alley wall, and Alain stared at him wide-eyed, his gaze filled with maddened fury.

"Look down, Monsieur Forneau," Alain whispered, and the foreman looked down at the tattoo on Alain's hand, then back up with a whimper. "That's right. DeMuer. I used to clean up these streets by any means necessary, and now people say I've given it up. That I've gone soft for business, for love. But you know what?" He squeezed, then, and Forneau grunted in pain. None of his friends dared to move, between the dangerous knight and the man they'd all heard was deadly.

"I'm feeling pretty nostalgic. I've had a bad day, and right now you're going to great pains to convince me that making someone disappear, just like old times, is the cure for what ails me. I don't recommend it," he snarled, and Forneau whimpered again. "In fact, I recommend you do the job Miss Rivka hired you for. You don't ask her for another copper unless you have a damn good reason, and then you'd better ask please because that's my money. You go home, sober up, and send her something nice tomorrow morning, then you get to work. You finish the job you've been hired for, and you do your damnedest to keep to the schedule. Skip town and I will find you, and you won't get another chance."

Forneau struggled to say something, and Alain turned him away from the wall, threw him to the ground among his friends, and asked, "Do we understand each other, Monsieur Forneau, or do I need to explain myself to you again?"

"M-m-mister DeMuer, I d-d-d-didn't know, I s-swear to God!" he said, scrambling back to his feet, looking between the knight, DeMuer, and his friends. "Sunrise! We'll... we'll be there at sunrise! That's good... right? That'll... make things right with us?"

One of Forneau's companions was reaching for a knife that had been knocked away; Seamus stomped on the weapon, and everyone jerked back. "You'd better hope so," Alain growled. "Tell anyone what happened here and you will disappear. Now get the hell out of my sight."

They didn't need to be told twice. Disgraced but also shaken, terrified by someone far more adept at their mafioso games, they scrambled out of the alleyway and into the street. On any other day they would have been spared the abuse, the matter might have even been settled in court; instead they had the grave misfortune of catching Alain DeMuer on a very bad day.

Lelah · Date: 2011-04-06 13:33 EST

The longer she remained in Rhy'Din, the longer she realized that it was like New York City of the 1970s and '80s. The government was ineffectual, practically nonexistent in fact. Criminals were the true lords of the streets and they were utterly unafraid of killing, threatening, bribing, and causing general mayhem in order to continue their business. No one and no place was safe. Having only been a child during the worst of it, she had no real memory of the pervasive fear that infected everyone, but she remembered her parents discussing race riots, daily murders, and drug dealers who stood on every street corner south of 75th Avenue. Was that what Rhy'Din was like, once you got past the presentable face of New Haven and its environs?

The morning after the impromptu meeting with Alain DeMeur in the Red Dragon, a meeting that was cut short by an ill-timed shoot-out in the commons room, Lelah was awakened by a curt knock at her front door. She glanced at the clock on her night table, saw that it was barely 8:00 a.m. ?What the hell?? she asked Oscar, who was staring into the living room from his spot atop Lelah's bed. ?This had better be Publisher's Clearing House with one of those stupidly big checks or I might be forced to commit murder.? She climbed out of bed and covered the overlarge sleep shirt she was wearing with a silk La Perla robe.

She padded bare foot through the living room and peered out of the peephole in the door. She was confronted with a man in a delivery uniform who was holding a large bouquet of bright, spring blooms. Her brows raised in surprise and she glanced at the small, drooping bunch of tulips Rhys had brought on Saturday night. She smiled hugely, thinking that he'd decided to replace the flowers with something bigger, brighter, and less apt to die.

Swinging open the door, she glanced at the skies above the brewery. Another overcast day; maybe rain was in the cards, too. That would make running impossible and she wondered if there was a gym somewhere in the city. She looked back to the delivery man and flashed him one of her patented killer smiles. ?Lelah Rivka?? he asked. After she nodded, he thrust the bouquet into her hands, turned abruptly, and pounded down the stairs to the brick-lined drive below.

?Thank you!? she called out before stepping inside and carrying the flowers to the kitchen. She dug through the roses, lilies, alstroemeria, and pom chrysanthemums for the card that surely had been included. Finding it, she leaned against the counter with a huge smile, and read the hand-printed words there: ?From your friends at Forneau Construction.? She had to re-read it three times before the words made sense.

A flurry of emotions flew through her ? disappointment that the delivery hadn't been from Rhys, confusion over who had sent the flowers, wonder at the change in circumstances, and the tiniest thrill of fear when she realized that Alain had made good on his promise to ?speak? with a certain foreman. Alain had said that he wouldn't hurt a man over money, and she'd taken him at his word. Maybe he'd just, you know, talked to them. Maybe threatened them a little. She sighed, glanced once more at the flowers, and shook her head. ?Well, whatever he did,? she said to Oscar, who'd deigned to get out of bed, ?it worked. Let's go for a walk, baby, and have a look-see for ourselves.?

Three quarters of an hour later, Leelee and Oscar were headed for the site. She could hear the sounds of earth-movers and jackhammers before she could see them. A huge, triumphant smile broke out and she stayed for only about five minutes at the site, watching machines and men scurrying around in a ballet of controlled chaos and destruction. She waved at Forneau when he spotted her and she was pleased at the tentative way he waved back. With a chuckle, she headed now for the Marketplace. A celebratory pastry was in order.