The Long Goodbye ((Open to 1F))

[Ruelle]

Marlowe reached out and placed a hand on top of hers. "This whole thing is pretty scary. You've been playing the strong, independent woman for so long that you've forgotten that sometimes you need a little help. I can offer that help, Ms. Baybrook." He smiled warmly, still suspicious, but growing to believe her. "I care about this case and I care about you. I want you to get out of this safely. So I'll stay with you tonight. I'll protect you."

She didn’t trust his smile, but… there was no helping it. “I don’t need protection, Mister Marlowe,” Joey replied, removing her hand from his and patting it softly. “I don’t play at being strong—I am strong. I’m independent because I have to be. And I don’t need protected. Others need too.” But maybe she was

"But if I catch you referring to me as one of your 'toys', I'm off the case for good. Understand that." Marlowe stood and adjusted his coat. "Should we get going to your father's? We can take my car."

“Fine,” she replied, standing up and walking toward the door. She moved her hands behind her back as she waited for him to join her. “Well, where is this marvelous car of yours?”


-time skip-


It only took them thirty minutes to reach Micah’s home. It wasn’t that the directions were hard to understand. But it was mostly for the fact that Joey had forgotten the car gate code to get it. It had taken her about ten minutes. Which wasn’t all that bad. Now, there they were, standing in front of a simple looking door. But Joey new better. Raising her hand about to knock, she instead kicked the wood with the flat of her shoe.

After a moment, she kicked the door again. Loud sounding stomps and trudges could be heard from inside the home. A body hit the stairs and it clearly was tumbling down. Joey didn’t look the least bit sympathetic. She didn’t check to see Marlow’s expression as she remained focused on the door. There was silence for the next few minutes.

The door burst open and a head of tousled blonde hair revealed himself. His eyes were tired and pissed. Obviously the man had just put his head on a pillow. His shirt wrapped itself around his shoulders, the buttons were completely undone. His ice cold glare rested on Joey. “What. The hell. Joey. Didn’t I tell you to call before you came?” He growled, then let his gaze fall to Marlowe. “And what’s he doin’ here?”

“He’s helping me Father,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around the man and kissing his cheek. “Sorry to have disturbed you but tomorrow there’s the meeting with Mario. So, we decided to stop by to see you and get what we could.” She looked all to sweet as she pushed the older man back. “And play nice too. Mister Marlowe got a tail off of Theo.”

Micah looked between the two before letting out a dejected sigh and conceded. “Come in the, Marlowe,” he replied. Micah was possibly the tallest out of the three, towering over Joey and had to look down at the other male. He gave the appearance of being an ordinary man—there was nothing remarkable about him. But to those that knew him, malice radiated off his body. He looked at Marlowe, assessing him, sizing him up.

“Whatever you need, I’ll get you,” he said simply. If Joey was working with the man, Micah had no choice but to help his ‘daughter.’ He remembered that some of his lower ranking men had killed some of Marlowe’s cop buddies. Only one of them had been innocent. The rest had been corrupted. They had to be taken out. Unfortunately, he did not mean literally. Stupid henchmen. “What is it you need?”

 

[EndHits]

OOC: Took some liberties with Micah. I hope that's okay, but I wanted to keep the story moving along a bit. Missed having you around for the last few days.

Micah Baybrook's house was enormous, a well-kept front lawn leading to a Victorian-style mansion. It summoned thoughts of power and influence. Dirty, rotten things had happened in that house. Inside was no less ornate. Paintings of untold value hung from the walls, sculptures sat royally on every side table, and cameras seemed to be watching their every move.

This was the first time Marlowe had seen Micah in person. He was a behemoth of a man, no doubt intimidating to those who crossed him, but Marlowe understood why he was so charismatic. He had the demeanor of an everyman, but the Matisse hanging above the stairway said differently. Marlowe knew he was being sized up, so he popped the collar on his trench coat and wrapped the fabric belt around his waist, huddling into himself. "Cold night, huh?" he said politely. But he was holding his ground against a man who respected strength.

Once the pleasantries were out of the way, Micah got right to business. “What is it you need?”

"More than anything, Mr. Baybrook, I need your cooperation. Let's get this straight now, I'm not a cop anymore. I've got no allegiance to the department and no reason to go ratting on you. Unless you give me one." He lit a cigarette, having to look slightly up to stare into Micah's eyes. "But I'm not interested in whatever illegal activity goes on in this house or in your company. Your daughter is paying me to figure out who is tracking your family and why. But in order to do that, I'm going to need you to be honest with me."

"Honest, you say?" Micah replied. "I can give you honesty. I can't make it easy though. Let's take this to my office."

The trio moved upstairs to a rather large office. His desk was enormous, his chair made of rare leather, a large statue of a golden eagle hanging above his desk. They sat and the tension in the room was palpable.

"I need to know why someone would be interested in breaking up your family. Why would they want to take you out, especially if you're legitimate?" Marlowe asked frankly.

Micah paused to light a cigar. The smoke billowed throughout the room. "We're not what we used to be, Mr. Marlowe. Thanks in part to the case that you and your lackies' managed to make against me and my organization." There was distinct in his voice. "I invested in some local businesses, a few restaurants, a few entrepreneurs, but that's...boring. So I dip into some of the old trades - drugs, prostitution - but only for kicks, you understand? We're not looking to expand."

"Then why would Mario Vincette be so concerned about your family? What would he have against Theo and Joey?"

"Joey will tell you: I don't control their comings-and-goings. They don't even officially work for me. But Joey has a talent for...gaining the allegiance of men. And Theo, he's just a lawyer. He's helped me with my own cases, but of his own volition." He puffed a smoke ring out of his mouth. "From what I understand, you managed to ruin Vincette's career too. He's small time now. Barely manages to keep himself afloat. I'm sure you've noticed the crime rate. But as long as he does interfere with my business, I could care less about Mario Vincette."

"Joey, however, may have informed you about the incident with his daughter Delia. Maybe this is just...personal, revenge. But I expect you to keep my daughter safe. Or you won't be."

 

[Ruelle]

Joey didn’t pay attention to their conversation at the doorway, still clinging onto the blonde. He kept an arm wrapped around her, as they made toward his office. The gold eagle above his desk was not really a statue. There was hidden high tech eavesdropping device—by yours truly, Joey. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her father, it was the company he kept. Unfortunately, he couldn’t get rid of them. And that stint that Marlowe did with the case… it had really damaged them.

"I invested in some local businesses, a few restaurants, a few entrepreneurs, but that's...boring. So I dip into some of the old trades - drugs, prostitution - but only for kicks, you understand? We're not looking to expand."

“I handled the prostitution bit,” Joey admitted. “They were my girls and boys. Don’t worry, I didn’t mistreat them—in fact, they were treated rather well. It’s the costumers I have no control over. Especially your cop buddies.” No wonder they were never caught on the prostitution charge. Too many important people.

"Then why would Mario Vincette be so concerned about your family? What would he have against Theo and Joey?"


"Joey will tell you: I don't control their comings-and-goings. They don't even officially work for me. But Joey has a talent for...gaining the allegiance of men.-“ Joey sent a glare at her father, and muttered something about how she was no whore and did not sleep with every Jon, Dick or Harry.

“And Theo, he's just a lawyer. He's helped me with my own cases, but of his own volition." He puffed a smoke ring out of his mouth. "From what I understand, you managed to ruin Vincette's career too. He's small time now. Barely manages to keep himself afloat. I'm sure you've noticed the crime rate. But as long as he does interfere with my business, I could care less about Mario Vincette."


"Joey, however, may have informed you about the incident with his daughter Delia. Maybe this is just...personal, revenge. But I expect you to keep my daughter safe. Or you won't be." He then looked at Joey. “As for you, it’s your own damn fault. You need to learn to keep your temper in check!”

“But Delia deserved it!”

“Joey, this is why I tell you to stabilize yourself!” Micah barked at her, his cool gaze heating up with worry. “You’re a smart kid, you may even take over this business, but you have to control your actions around those who are absolutely and completely stupid. Because of this, your brother is in danger. Have you thought about his kids? Want them to end up like you and he did? I assure you, it takes only one bullet.”

She stood up as well. “I know that! That’s why I want to nip it now before it gets too far.”

“Knowing Delia it probably already is. Look, Marlowe can’t come to the meeting, so I’ll make sure you get the government mics and whatnot. But he can come to MY meeting,” he looked into the man’s eyes. “As long as you don’t mention your past as a cop, you’ll come out alive.” Micah was meeting with a representative from Las Vegas. He had gotten a call earlier that day and knew the boss there was thinking of expanding. Micah didn’t like the process of expanding. It was much too much work and he was comfortable where he was.

“Joey you can take Amelie with you. Mario is more of a pervert than anything else. And Amelie is completely his type. He knows better than to make eyes at you.”

“’Course he does. I’ll snap his neck in two,” she responded, a deranged smile stretching across her face. It looked at home there. After a moment, the two nodded at each other and she turned to go. “I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

As soon as the door was closed, Micah turned to look at Marlowe once more. “She’ll use you for all you’re worth then throw you away… be careful with Joey,” he said softly, concern showing on his face. “She’s not like other women. I don’t mean in looks or in attitude. I mean how she sees the world. You’re either a toy or completely precious. If you are a toy, you can never be completely precious. If you are completely precious you cannot be a toy. She can only love a person or use them for sex. She cannot do both. But I noticed she didn’t refer to you as a toy. Nor did she say you were precious. She probably doesn’t know you all that well—or maybe she doesn’t know what you’ll become.”

Micah remembered the first time Joey had met Marlowe, it was around the time of his case. Of course, she hadn’t been the bombshell she was today. She had only worn hoodies and slacks with black converses. He remembered seeing her watch the other male with intense eyes. He doubt either remembered. It was back then. And this was now. Both changed, he could see it.

Marlowe was no longer the man he used to be. On that matter, neither was Micah. Age had mollified him… made him much wiser, crueler. He knew that the best revenge was the wait of the revenge. The wondering of when it would come. The wondering how much they might suffer. Sometimes, it was funny how graphic and cruel his little victims imagined. “Delia in a way, is just like Joey, she’ll use what she can to get what she wants. They are both unstable—Joey on an emotional and rational level… Delia is just one fucking crazy bitch.”

He leaned back, and tilted his head to the side. “Don’t think I like you or anything because I’m telling you this,” Micah replied. “I really, really, really despise you. But you’re a good guy, one of the best that I’ve come across and well, there’s too many bad guys out there.” He walked by Marlowe, awkwardly patting the man’s shoulder. “You have my support—do not take it lightly. Nor for granted.” He left the office through another door, which probably led to a more private study. It was best to not ask questions.

Joey had walked down the hall, waiting in front of a door, her body relaxed as her shoelaces were completely untied. She tilted her head to the side. Where was Marlowe? He promised to stay the night with her—on her couch. Looking at the door, she figured she could grab a few things from her room. It wasn’t as though he would go inside. Opening the iron doorknob, she entered.

The room was white, two walls completely padded, the other two stripped to their bare core. Pictures and blueprints of weapons were scattered cross the walls. The pictures were strange and disturbing, as though tapping into a dark faerie tale world. None of the pictures were current, more from her teen years than adult hood. The closet was filled with stereotypical mafia clothes in male and female styles, as well from around the world. The shoes were boots, steal toe. One or two still had bloodstains. Wondering what to wear, she smiled as she found the perfect—ironic—set. It was a billowy ivory white dress with matching stripped socks and ivory converses. (Which were basically white converses that had been dyed.)

She smiled as she remembered who gave it to her. Theo had saved up all his money for three months to get it. of course, she barely wore it so it looked nice and clean. And she wasn’t in the mood to dress sexy tomorrow. No, that would be Amelie’s job. Joey’s eyes closed as she thought about the job she would have to tomorrow. Delia would most likely be there.