12-08-2014, 10:26 PM
Two years prior
"Hey fucker, heard you rose from the dead," came a familiar voice over his shoulder.
He hadn't seen Megan since the accident. He'd started picking up his goods from someone different, given that she wasn't his usual contact at school he had to get his stuff from a squirrely tweaker in his fifth period. He'd been chasing something a little louder than pot, something that made his fingertips numb and made the feeling of the world trying to race away be more tolerable. Tweak knew a guy who happened to be throwing a house party this weekend. Someone who he had insisted knew where to find some good shit. Provided he could pay for it.
Mom never checked her credit card statements anyway. But it wasn't his mother's voice he heard over his shoulder, it was Megan's.
He turned around and there she was, bright grin on her face and still about twenty-five pounds heavier than he was despite the fact that he had at least six inches in height on her. Because fuck y'all, crawfish are delicious and Megan Fontaine do what she want. The house wasn't on the best side of town, but the music was loud and the booze flowed freely and people who were supposed to be at this party were <i>at</i> this party. It wasn't the first time he'd been in a place that he wasn't entirely certain he belonged, but it was the first time that he had the presence of mind to do it alone instead of dragging Jenn along with him. He turned around and shot her a grin, all tall and thin and lanky.
"Hey there Megs," he started, "you here to rough me up for finding a new dealer?"
"And fuck up your pretty face?" she laughed, pulling him down by the shirt close enough to kiss his cheek. He'd had a couple, but Megan was stone cold sober. She always was, "we were friends before you were my customer, but given the grave faux pas you owe me a story."
"Well, once upon a time-"
"No, no no, you owe me a story about how you pulled a Jesus."
"We are not drunk enough for blasphemy, dahlin'," he leaned in and kissed her on the forehead.
"How many more will it take? she laughed
"Christ woman, doncha know when a guy is drinking to forget?"
"You're gonna need something harder than booze to forget dying," and with that she took him by the arm and escorted Elijah off to go find something that was going to get the job done a little faster than vodka. As far as she was concerned, his liver would thank her later, Megan was certain.
"Whatcha got?"
"It's not about what I got, it's about what Nines has, I'm not gonna deal at his party."
"Who's Nines?" Elijah asked.
This made Megan laugh, and she kicked her feet up on the coffee table. She took up space. Not because of her size, but rather, because of her presence. Megan Fontaine knew what she was doing and there was something almost protective but not quite about her. Elijah had shitty taste in people from time to time, but Megan was the kind of friend you wanted to have around when you wanted to have a good time, or forget about having a bad time. It wasn't the point. Megan laughed, and it wasn't the kind of laugh that was made from good humor. More like shock.
"You wanna meet him?" she asked.
"Do I want to meet a guy named Nines?"
"Yeah, make a good impression?"
"Why do I suspect that this is an excuse to see you network?" Elijah asked incredulously.
"Friends help friends, sugar pea, now c'mon," and with little ado she was dragging him to his feet and off to the back porch.
The night air was cold and he was starting to feel a good buzz. Enough that he didn't care about whatever it was that he was saying, but then again did Elijah ever really care about what was coming out of his mouth at the time? Megan should have known better than to take him to meet someone important, especially when he was drunk. Especially when he was looking for some kind of high to stave off the sound of something that he didn't want to listen to. He didn't expect the outdoors to be a little noisier than he wanted it to be.
"Hey, excuse me, Nines?" Megan called out.
The man turned around mid conversation. Elijah had never seen someone like Nines Martíne. He was tall, yes, and he was built like his father but decidedly more menacing. There was an air of power around him. An air of confidence that came with the bravado of owning the world. He had arms that were solid and in his weathered hands the man held a half smoked cigar. When he saw Megan, he smiled. All his teeth bright and white and sharp like.
"Yeah?" the man turned to look at the two kids coming up to him, "Christ these fuckers are getting younger by the day."
"Megan Fontaine," she said. The young woman offered her hand.
Don't touch that, someone hissed. Megan and Nines didn't seem to notice, he's filth.
"Ain't you precious," Nines replied, giving her hand a shake with his free one, "who's the blond? Your brother?"
"His name's Elijah," Megan remarked.
"Is your name seriously Nines?" Elijah asked.
"It's the only name that matters, kid. All them other pimps have a stable of sixes or seven but my shit? Ain't nothin' but Nines," the man said with pride.
"Wouldn't you want your name to be Tens then? So the number scale makes more sense?" Elijah asked.
There was silence between them. Megan stared in shock, and she looked immediately to the larger man with them. She uneasily positioned herself so she was a little further away from Elijah. Nines stared, and the air was quiet and electric and something whispered on the breeze, hissed and pleaded you shouldn't have said that, you shouldn't have said that, but the voice was pleading. It wasn't a threat this time, and the voice wasn't the one Elijah had recently found was his companion. The young man looked around, as if he was trying to find someone on the porch who might have been speaking. But it was just the three of them.
"I shouldn't have said what?" Elijah asked out loud.
Nines, in his turn, laughed and clapped the young man on the shoulder. "You ain't from these streets, are you Elijah?"
You shouldn't have said that the voice said again. Wavering and scared, tipped in favor of the feminine.
"I'm from New Orleans," Elijah lied. Effortless.
"So you ain't heard of me? You think you funny?"
"Do you think I'm funny?" he asked. At this point, Megan was more than ready to fade into the background.
"Some kinda funny," Nines replied, "you got a mouth on you, and that mouth gonna find you missin' some damn teeth soon enough."
Say you're sorry, please say you're sorry.
"Sorry," Elijah acquiesced.
"You gonna waste my time out here Fontaine, or you two want something?" Nines asked.
"Shithead here wanted to buy some stuff off of you," Megan said, "he's good for it, and I told him that if someone was going to be selling something you gotta respect the territory."
"At least someone has manners," Nines chortled, "What you looking for?"
"Something that makes the world quiet," Elijah told Nines.
There was silence, and then Nines, darling Nines with his perfect smile and his sharp sharp teeth grinned. A wolf to a lamb. A man whose ego was not easily assuaged.
"I think I got somethin'."
"Hey fucker, heard you rose from the dead," came a familiar voice over his shoulder.
He hadn't seen Megan since the accident. He'd started picking up his goods from someone different, given that she wasn't his usual contact at school he had to get his stuff from a squirrely tweaker in his fifth period. He'd been chasing something a little louder than pot, something that made his fingertips numb and made the feeling of the world trying to race away be more tolerable. Tweak knew a guy who happened to be throwing a house party this weekend. Someone who he had insisted knew where to find some good shit. Provided he could pay for it.
Mom never checked her credit card statements anyway. But it wasn't his mother's voice he heard over his shoulder, it was Megan's.
He turned around and there she was, bright grin on her face and still about twenty-five pounds heavier than he was despite the fact that he had at least six inches in height on her. Because fuck y'all, crawfish are delicious and Megan Fontaine do what she want. The house wasn't on the best side of town, but the music was loud and the booze flowed freely and people who were supposed to be at this party were <i>at</i> this party. It wasn't the first time he'd been in a place that he wasn't entirely certain he belonged, but it was the first time that he had the presence of mind to do it alone instead of dragging Jenn along with him. He turned around and shot her a grin, all tall and thin and lanky.
"Hey there Megs," he started, "you here to rough me up for finding a new dealer?"
"And fuck up your pretty face?" she laughed, pulling him down by the shirt close enough to kiss his cheek. He'd had a couple, but Megan was stone cold sober. She always was, "we were friends before you were my customer, but given the grave faux pas you owe me a story."
"Well, once upon a time-"
"No, no no, you owe me a story about how you pulled a Jesus."
"We are not drunk enough for blasphemy, dahlin'," he leaned in and kissed her on the forehead.
"How many more will it take? she laughed
"Christ woman, doncha know when a guy is drinking to forget?"
"You're gonna need something harder than booze to forget dying," and with that she took him by the arm and escorted Elijah off to go find something that was going to get the job done a little faster than vodka. As far as she was concerned, his liver would thank her later, Megan was certain.
"Whatcha got?"
"It's not about what I got, it's about what Nines has, I'm not gonna deal at his party."
"Who's Nines?" Elijah asked.
This made Megan laugh, and she kicked her feet up on the coffee table. She took up space. Not because of her size, but rather, because of her presence. Megan Fontaine knew what she was doing and there was something almost protective but not quite about her. Elijah had shitty taste in people from time to time, but Megan was the kind of friend you wanted to have around when you wanted to have a good time, or forget about having a bad time. It wasn't the point. Megan laughed, and it wasn't the kind of laugh that was made from good humor. More like shock.
"You wanna meet him?" she asked.
"Do I want to meet a guy named Nines?"
"Yeah, make a good impression?"
"Why do I suspect that this is an excuse to see you network?" Elijah asked incredulously.
"Friends help friends, sugar pea, now c'mon," and with little ado she was dragging him to his feet and off to the back porch.
The night air was cold and he was starting to feel a good buzz. Enough that he didn't care about whatever it was that he was saying, but then again did Elijah ever really care about what was coming out of his mouth at the time? Megan should have known better than to take him to meet someone important, especially when he was drunk. Especially when he was looking for some kind of high to stave off the sound of something that he didn't want to listen to. He didn't expect the outdoors to be a little noisier than he wanted it to be.
"Hey, excuse me, Nines?" Megan called out.
The man turned around mid conversation. Elijah had never seen someone like Nines Martíne. He was tall, yes, and he was built like his father but decidedly more menacing. There was an air of power around him. An air of confidence that came with the bravado of owning the world. He had arms that were solid and in his weathered hands the man held a half smoked cigar. When he saw Megan, he smiled. All his teeth bright and white and sharp like.
"Yeah?" the man turned to look at the two kids coming up to him, "Christ these fuckers are getting younger by the day."
"Megan Fontaine," she said. The young woman offered her hand.
Don't touch that, someone hissed. Megan and Nines didn't seem to notice, he's filth.
"Ain't you precious," Nines replied, giving her hand a shake with his free one, "who's the blond? Your brother?"
"His name's Elijah," Megan remarked.
"Is your name seriously Nines?" Elijah asked.
"It's the only name that matters, kid. All them other pimps have a stable of sixes or seven but my shit? Ain't nothin' but Nines," the man said with pride.
"Wouldn't you want your name to be Tens then? So the number scale makes more sense?" Elijah asked.
There was silence between them. Megan stared in shock, and she looked immediately to the larger man with them. She uneasily positioned herself so she was a little further away from Elijah. Nines stared, and the air was quiet and electric and something whispered on the breeze, hissed and pleaded you shouldn't have said that, you shouldn't have said that, but the voice was pleading. It wasn't a threat this time, and the voice wasn't the one Elijah had recently found was his companion. The young man looked around, as if he was trying to find someone on the porch who might have been speaking. But it was just the three of them.
"I shouldn't have said what?" Elijah asked out loud.
Nines, in his turn, laughed and clapped the young man on the shoulder. "You ain't from these streets, are you Elijah?"
You shouldn't have said that the voice said again. Wavering and scared, tipped in favor of the feminine.
"I'm from New Orleans," Elijah lied. Effortless.
"So you ain't heard of me? You think you funny?"
"Do you think I'm funny?" he asked. At this point, Megan was more than ready to fade into the background.
"Some kinda funny," Nines replied, "you got a mouth on you, and that mouth gonna find you missin' some damn teeth soon enough."
Say you're sorry, please say you're sorry.
"Sorry," Elijah acquiesced.
"You gonna waste my time out here Fontaine, or you two want something?" Nines asked.
"Shithead here wanted to buy some stuff off of you," Megan said, "he's good for it, and I told him that if someone was going to be selling something you gotta respect the territory."
"At least someone has manners," Nines chortled, "What you looking for?"
"Something that makes the world quiet," Elijah told Nines.
There was silence, and then Nines, darling Nines with his perfect smile and his sharp sharp teeth grinned. A wolf to a lamb. A man whose ego was not easily assuaged.
"I think I got somethin'."