Random Writes

Reporter, Cat, and Hero - Oh My!

crimsonmuse — Sat, 14 Jul 2012 16:54:00 -0400

The base of the oak was littered with discarded clothes, one heel, a scarf, a woman’s black trench, and a red beret. Central Park was oddly devoid of movement in this area, save the cajoling feminine voice high atop in the tree limbs overhead, “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Hi, baby. Its okay, I’m here to help. I know…you’re scared, quite frankly, I’m scared too, but everything’s going to be just…”

CRACK!

“…fine?” Madigan Hayes whimpered as the cat no more than an arm’s length away gave her a disgruntled look that seemed to say: Now look what you’ve done. Beneath them, the tree branch dipped a half inch. Madigan closed her eyes and gulped, going as still as the treed cat, the two of them now sharing the same fate.

Marcus “Grim” Callabrini was walking back from a meeting with a business contact in Central Park and wasn’t very happy about how his night’s business had concluded. He was owed money. He hated being owed money. Especially from someone he liked. For him, he just didn’t want things to sour between himself and those he liked over, of all things, money.

Pausing, Grim heard a low soft voice nearby saying: Here, kitty, kitty, kitty. Hi, baby. It’s okay, I’m here to help. I know…you’re scared, quite frankly, I’m scared too, but everything’s going to be just… - then he heard the crack. Grim broke into a run and made it to the tree before anything serious happened. “Miss, do you need some help?” he asked. “I can help you out if you’d like.”

From her precious perch high in the tree, Madigan peered through the limbs to the man below, a flood of relief pushing through her tensed limbs - tension that was making the cat she was attempting to save an equal ball of nerves, ones it let out in frustrated growls punctuated by pissy hisses. Trying to keep her voice soft, she nodded minutely, “Um, yes….it would be greatly appreciated as it appears my attempts at playing hero have proved to be disappointing and I may be a few minutes away from an angry clawing cat hat, and a very sore arse when this bough breaks.”

Grim looked around. To the left of the tree, 40 feet away Grim saw a large log. “Hang on miss. I have an idea.” Grim moved fast. The last thing he wanted was this lovely young woman to fall and get hurt, not when he was in a position to keep it from happening. He picked up the 300lb log and moved it to the tree and slammed the log into the ground with an almost thunderous thud, moving the other end into position under the branch that the woman and her cat were perched upon to shore up their weight. Once the log was in place, he moved to the tree and began to climb, reaching the young woman he moved his hand to her waist and said, “If you can grab your cat, please do so quickly. I’ll hold onto you if the log and branch fall to keep you from falling.” Grim dug his left hand into the trunk of the tree so deep, that it looked as if a bear had marked its territory. Gently, but firmly, he solidified his grip around the woman’s waist.

Both Madigan and the cat looked perplexed, the calico’s blues starred wide-eyed at the man sensing energies that made her scurry closer to Madigan, who watched dumbfounded as the stranger performed feats usually saved for mothers who lifted cars off theie children in dire emergencies. Exhaling, ebony strands of hair blew up past her forehead, as one green eye and one blue eye met the stranger’s own. Her hands clasped gently the cat, her touch once felt seeming to make the cat go limp in her grasp, “Okay, she’s secured…Mister…” she half-inquired, as she shifted her gaze to the ground below and the stump of a tree he’d buried into the ground, hoping it was as sturdy as it looked. Her other heel slid from her foot and hit the ground next to her other shoe with a quiet thud as if to emphasize what she’d nearly done herself.

“Names Marcus, most call me Grim.” He pulled her closer, holding her gently but firmly in his right arms grasp as he began to climb down. His movements were slow and deliberate. With each lowering of their bodies his left hand dug into the tree as before, bears would be both proud and respectful of the marks he made on the tree’s trunk. Once on the ground, Grim placed the young woman beside him, “Are you hurt miss?” He inquired hoping she’d give him her name.

“Well met Marcus, whom most call…” she eyed him with an arched brow, left side of her lip curling in a crooked grin as she cuddled the limp cat to her chest, “…call Grim. Ms. Kitty and I are extremely grateful that you happened to be milling about at this hour.” Looking around for her discarded clothing, she laughed, twigs and leaves sticking out from the thick braid that rested in the middle of her back, her skirt something she’d ripped on either side to make climbing easier, “I suppose I should’ve dressed more appropriately for tonight’s activities, but as I was telling Ms. Kitty, I did not expect myself to be up a tree.”

Toeing her shoes she slid her feet back into them, hosiery filled with holes and runners from her precarious climb, her scarf something she curled one handed around her throat, as she plopped her hat crooked atop her head. Eyeing the cat in her arms she gently wrapped her in her trench and held her in her arms. “Are you hungry? I could…there’s food vendors outside the park…I mean…” she pointed to the mangled tree trunk he’d stuck in the ground, “…feats of strength like that have got to make a guy like you hungry?” The words kept falling past her lips, word after word, like words to a page. Words she couldn’t make stop.

“Thank you but no. I’m just glad you and Ms. Kitty are alright. I have an appointment elsewhere.”Grim check to make sure Lucy and Nora hadn’t moved from their beds on either side of his rib cage without showing themselves. “Would you mind if I take a rain check?” he asked as he moved over and grabbed the log and yanked it from the ground, moving it elsewhere. Once done he looked at the young woman and said, “Are you sure your alright?”

Her mismatched gaze found his again, gentle smile touching her lips as she nodded vigorously, “Oh quite…well for now…maybe not later if the super sees me sneaking yet another stray into my…” she waved it off and laughed. “Anyway…” she curtsied three times in quick succession, “…and rain check? But of course. Another time as you’ve got…” she did a quick flex with her left arm as she had watched him handle the log once more without breaking a sweat. “..manly business to attend. So…off to be a man Marcus, who most call Grim. You can, should you want of course, claim your lunch or dinner at The Daily Stripe…or maybe again we’ll run into each other up a tree, though I hope not. There are far better places to meet then well…yes…so…again. Goodnight and a promise to catch you later. Thank you again for your terribly strong and impressive arms and…” she bit her lower lip and laughed, harried as usual as she did a peculiar little backwards walk towards the end of the park that would deposit her on the street closest to home.

Grim chuckled as she left. Nice young woman, odd, but nice. Must have gotten shaken up a bit. Grim nodded as she left and went the other way. His night was just getting started, and he had many men and women to see. Things were not going as he hoped they would. His car was still being finished and he wanted it done sooner rather than later. He hated public transportation. Still, he was happy to help the young woman. Stopping, he called after her, “If I do claim the lunch or dinner, whom do I ask for at the front desk?”

The wind carried the weight of his words over the distance their steps had put between them, Ms. Kitty beginning to stir in her grasp, her anxieties eased as she began to purr. Leaning into the wind, Madigan knew it’d carry her words to his ears, “Hayes! Just ask for Hayes, they’ll point you in my direction! See you soon! Thanks again! You were quite amazing Marcus, whom most people call Grim! Goodnight! Be safe and watch out for women in trees, could be more out here. It’s Friday. Desperation, you know?” Again, the words, things that poured forth from her lips without end.

Grim chuckled, as he turned and moved quickly. His steps would need to be swift. A life hung in the balance, and he’d see that life paid for and pardoned from its captor. He needed to get to Ruby’s to get the money, and then finally get to Queens to make the payoff. Once this shits done and Clara is safe and on her way outta town, I think I’ll stop and take Hayes out to lunch.

The Night Offers Hope

crimsonmuse — Sat, 03 Mar 2012 08:06:00 -0500

Bare-chested, pacing back and forth in his master suite, Prophet was trying - and failing miserably - to chase the lovely Scarlett from his mind. He wanted to go to her, but feared if he did she might reject his affections, leaving him in no condition at all to take on the many challenges the weekend was sure to hold in store. But he couldn’t just do nothing!

Perhaps he could just slide a letter under her door, a letter he’d written and revised so many times he was beginning to think he’d never actually be able to complete it. But complete it he finally did, mere minutes ago, though now he knew he’d never be able to work up the courage to give it to her. Should she not return his feelings, he’d never be able to face her again. His greatest joy was being with her, and that would come to an end as sure as frost forms on the winter grass should he push himself on her so soon.

No, that would not do at all. Once more, he read over the words that still seemed so inadequate:

My Dearest Scarlett,

I am certain that whatever words I put down on paper would not accurately describe the joy I feel just being in your presence. And how could they? Words are formed in the mind, and as Yeates so beautifully stated: “The only business of the head in the world is to bow a ceaseless obeisance to the heart.” And yet, the only language recognized by the heart is that of a kiss, and once two sets of lips entwine to communicate their love, the mind loses all ability to produce intelligent speech. So shall I settle for words that can’t possibly enlighten you as to my emotional state? I believe that would be a tragedy….

In the interest of your time and mine, I think it best if you allowed me just one kiss. I believe all will be decided at the very moment our lips meet.

Very Sincerely Yours,
Prophet

And just as he was getting ready to cast the letter into the waste basket, a figure lunged at him out of the darkness. Before his mind could register anything more than her scent and a blur of red hair, he felt her against him. “I’m so sorry…I thought there was someone in your house…and they’d…come to….harm you.” Driven by need, made brazen by the unexpected surge of adrenaline, heart warmed by the concern in her eyes, Prophet touched his lips to hers…..

The warmth of his skin beneath her hands gave way to the immediate warmth of his lips that pressed to hers. She stiffened, amped on her own surge of adrenalin thinking the worst had befallen her host. When fight or flight finally rolled, she found herself neither fighting him nor taking flight. Instead, her hands slid over his chest until her arms wound loosely around his neck, fingers sifting through the back of his hair, letting relief for his safety manifest in a kiss. Outside, the storm still roared, the lights flickered again in Prophet’s room, the stuttered pace one that matched her heart.

When it rains...

crimsonmuse — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 13:24:00 -0500

Outside the rain fell in sheets and Scarlett Montenegro’s driver continued to mess with the engine beneath the hood of the car. Shaking her head, she pinched the bridge of her nose and opened the door, hearing the driver’s protest. Ignoring his protests she did her best to cover her carefully pinned hair with her clutch, knowing it did little to ward off Mother Nature’s watery touch. Halfway up the drive to an estate in the distance, she removed her heels and ran to the gates, something she managed to squeeze through. Making her way to the front doors she stood shaking, red curls pasted in disarray against delicate cheekbones, tricolor gaze hopeful as she knocked once, then twice, hoping someone would answer.

As the door opened, she shivered, arms hugging her waist, midnight blue dress pasted to her slender frame, lower lip beginning to tremble from the cold, “Hi…I’m sorry to bother you so late in the evening but…” she paused in her unedited-rush, eyes widening in recognition, golden flecks in her gaze slightly brightening in the mix of greens and blues. “Oh…hi…I didn’t realize this was your place…I’ve had car trouble…was looking for help,” she said softly as she pushed a red ringlet from the middle of her forehead, girlish smile touching her rose painted lips.

Dear Diary,

The night has never been my friend. Not sure what it is about the darkness, but with the setting of the sun comes the feeling that I’ve wasted my day yet again. No matter how productive I am during the daylight hours, once darkness sets in I feel empty and alone, as though nothing has any meaning to it. Even my new Greenwich Village estate holds no joy for me, as it did when I closed the deal only days ago.

Sorry for the delay Diary. A young lady rang the bell looking for help. How she made it past the guards I’ll never know, but there she was just the same. She was stunning, even soaking wet and shivering in the cold. But when she cast her eyes on me and graced me with her smile, I realized that it was none other than the lovely Scarlett! At my door! Diary, my heart stopped…of course I asked her in, though I’ll never know how I got the words out. This woman, this beautiful creature has my tongue twisted with merely a glance in my direction. She is still here, enjoying a glass of wine…

As went their first meeting, he was both gracious and kind, something she never took for granted given the kind of life they lead. Seated in his study, clad in one of his dress shirts as they did their best to let her own clothing dry by the fire, she sipped a glass of wine he’d been so kind to offer. “I hope I’m not interrupting…I promise I’m not stalking you…” she teased lightly, index finger of on her right hand running lightly around the rim of of her glass. “…and even if I were…I’m mostly harmless.” She winked, biting her lower lip as she dropped her gaze to the blanket over her lap.

“I fear my evening was filled with a very boring dinner, filled with very boring people. Although…” she raised her tricolor gaze to find your own, “…I did overhear some loud brash Barzini complaining that the Don in your family has joined The Cadre. They’ve been quite strange lately, the Barzini. A lot of changes and activity among them though in a somewhat….disorganized fashion.” Swirling the red in her glass she eyes you with a smile, “…have you been having issues with them?”

Not trusting himself to meet her glance, Prophet stared out the window of his study. “Let’s just say they’ve finally come to understand that The Cadre is a serious crew.” He wanted so badly to turn around…to steal a glance at her nearly bare legs, save for the blanket covering her upper thighs. But should he give in, he feared where it might lead. Surely she would see the desire in his eyes…What then? He’d been so lonely for so long, would he even know how to please a woman such as this? His heart begged him to take the chance, but his pride was a far more compelling voice.

“You’re welcome to stay in one of the guest rooms tonight,” he told her as he mentally shook himself. “Should you need anything at all, my servants are at your disposal.” Before he could stop himself, he added: “My room is the last on the right, should the lightning frighten you.”

He continued to prove a mystery, this man she only knew as Prophet. She watched him exit the study and finished her glass of wine. Rising, she sat the blanket in the chair and procured a pen and pad of paper from his desk in order to jot down the addresses she’d collected at dinner, thinking perhaps he might find them of great import down the road.

3am or Dead Time, she woke realizing she’d fallen asleep at the desk in the guest room she’d taken residence in. Furrowing her brow, she noted the electricity in the house had gone down, the room lit in eerie glows with peels of thunder. However, it was a sound down the hall that she figured at woke her form her sleep. Something not born from clouded skies and electrically charged air. In the dark she searched for something weighted and found a silver candlestick. Testing it’s weight she crept outside her door and made her way stealthily down the hall.

Frowning, she noted the door to Prophet’s bedroom was ajar. She crept inside, unsure what she’d find, but she’d survived enough attempts on her own life and seen attempts made on others that she felt dread. She stayed close to the wall and waited for a flash of lighting to give her an idea of what was in the room. Something, anything. When it hit she thought she saw an outline and lunged, just as the light went on and she realized she’d almost whacked her host, candlestick something she immediately dropped on the floor, hands reaching to catch her balance on his chest, red curls veiling her blushing features from view, “I’m so sorry…I thought there was someone in your house…and they’d…” she bit her lower lip, peering up at him through her hair apologetically. “Come to….harm you.”

Playing Nurse...

crimsonmuse — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 09:22:10 -0500

Every once in a while, the mob shows a softer side…like during the aftermath of an attack on an enemy family.

The ambulance paused in front of the estate for which a medical emergency had been called. From the back of the ambulance the doors opened, white lace stocking’d legs followed. Felina straightened her nurse’s hat atop her head, bag of medical supplies firmly in hand. She sashayed her way up the walk, side-stepping the carnage left behind, pouty crimson lips pursed perfectly as she tsk’d. Up the stairs and through the door searching for injured.

Kneeling down beside you, she flashes you an apologetic smile and opens her bag of medical supplies, “Well, this is kinda of awkward isn’t it? You and me…like this.” Gently, she dabbed at cuts and bruises, leaning forward to blow lightly on the worst of them letting the antiseptic do its job. “It wasn’t personal you realize…this. I meant to handle it on my own, seeing as how it was merely a lil ol CS I took last night in another skirmish.” Leaning back, she fished around in her bag for some clotting cream, applying it sparringly. “But…before I knew it, some of the other Tigers read reports and well…they got loose.”

Lowering her gaze, she brushed the pad of her thumb over your left brow, “I understand if you’re angry and if bad things should come to pass between us, but…I just wanted to say…I’m sorry.” Leaning forward she pressed her lips to the right corner of your mouth. “Let me know if I should be expecting company anytime soon…I’ll leave the light on for you.” Packing her stuff, she rose slowly, hem of her nurse’s uniform flashing a hint of garter beneath. “I know I’m not a doctor…but if you need another house call…just put your lips together and blow.”

Diary of a Mobster

crimsonmuse — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 07:43:09 -0500

Dear Diary:

Today I met the most interesting woman from a rival family. I’d heard brilliant things about her from her crew leader, Elektra, but the woman I’d met was even more fantastic than she had described! Smart, witty, and abolutely mesmerizing in every way! I had wanted to tell her how honored I was to have made her acquaintance, and that I know that the recent alliance between our two crews would be long-lived and fruitful for both sides. But, sadly, I was so taken by her that the only words that came out of my stuttering mouth were “N-n-n-ice t-t-to m-m-m-meet you m-m-aam”. I was lucky to get those words out, as she picked that very moment to grace me with a smile and a wink. Does she even know the effect she can have on a romantic such as I? Is it possible that her charms are hidden even from herself?

But what I wouldn’t give to have, just for a moment, the casual ease of Don Juan around beautiful women! Instead, I have the manners of a drunken sailer on leave in a foreign land. Perhaps it’s just as well, diary…A woman such as her would never be able to see through this rough exterior to the man I believe I could be. I shall have to content myself with the knowledge that I can glance upon her from time to time, always admiring from a distance.

by Prophet