YOU!

[maddy_ricks]

The year was 1945. Through a radio in the corner, Doris Day cooed the lyrics to Sentimental Journey. Blades of a fan twirled lazily in the summer air and the light of a dying afternoon slipped amber-yellow through the window shades. The air smelled of oak and whisky, tobacco and perfume.

It was all a bit of strange juxtaposition, considering the blood spewing from the crown of a man’s head as he toppled from his bar stool onto the slatted floor. Madeleine stood over him, a silver key swinging from her neck and a broken bottle in her hand. The lines up the backside of her pantyhose were crooked and perspiration stuck strands of hair to her neck. “That’s what you get for not calling.”

She crouched next to him and raised her cigarette over the wound for the sole purpose of ashing it at the first opportunity. “And that… is for sticking your Johnson in my roommate,” she hissed.

People were staring. Strike that, men were staring, regulars she knew from the bar, each of them with their own string of conquests. She wiped her forehead and yelled, “What?!”

A row of hats slowly pivoted back to the bar.

The memory of that moment – and all those faces – was as fresh today as it had been in 1945. So when Maddy saw the profile sitting at the bar, she stopped throwing darts and elbowed her way through a crowd of drunk people shouting at the Celtics game. “Hey! Hey, you!”

Comments

[whistlersmum]

He was so happy. Fifty bucks on the Celtics was about to pay off better than a night at the craps table. He had his beer, a bowl of peanuts, and a full pack of Lucky Sevens.

Then he heard her. It was impossible to miss over the din.

Whistler instinctively grabbed for his hat and pushed it onto his head. He didn't need another bloody gash.

The Agent pivoted on his bar stool.

Her dress clung tighter than hickory smoke on barbequed ribs. Her curves played tighter than a classical violin.

The hairstyle was new.

Whistler's brain went into self-preservation mode while his body traveled back to 1944.

"Goddamn, but the years have been good to you, Maddy."

Forty years were just a few steps away. He hoped time healed all wounds, and not just the one on his head.

[maddy_ricks]

“Bleh. Spare me.” Maddy reached for his mug of beer and drank the top third, wiping her mouth when she’d had her fill. The tip of her nose had gotten damp, but she refused to dry that off and look like a dummy. She set it back before him. “You look…”

She glanced up and down.

“More or less the same.”

So long had passed since he called on her that Maddy feared he was dead and rotting in the room he rented, with an alley cat eating his face. Her key turned in the door of the room, and then she heard it… the high-pitched whinnying sound of Mary-Frances in the throes of…

Maddy pricked her thumb on the dart she still held. Yuck.

[whistlersmum]

Whistler eyed what was left of his beer. A chorus erupted from the throng watching the basketball game. Or rather, the lack of a game. Static had replaced the picture. A bartender fiddled with the rabbit ears and dials on the set. When it came back on, the Celtics were behind.

His heart sank.

"You always had a way with words. And throwing things."

He waved to the bartender for another beer, this one for the brunette. "Unless you traded up," he commented. Mostly about the beer.

[maddy_ricks]

“And you had a way with the ladies,” she said. “But you definitely traded down.”

The guy next to them noticed the tension and shifted awkwardly. Maddy snapped her fingers. “Skedaddle.” She stared him down and thumbed over her shoulder. “Well?” After a few seconds, he sighed and left in search of warmer climes.

The brunette hopped aboard the empty stool.

“So what are you doing in town?”

[whistlersmum]

"Skedaddle?," Whistler offered with a smirk. "Who says skedaddle these days? It's the 1980s, Maddy, ya gotta talk like it."

She was right, and he knew it. Mary-Frances practically threw herself on his lap. He could've said no. It said something that he didn't.

"I was married once, you remember? During the Dust Bowl days. I left her for you. I'm terrible with commitment."

He grabbed a small handful of peanuts and popped them into his mouth, chewing greedily, then washing it down with what was left of his beer. As the bartender brought a frosty mug for Maddy, he ordered a second round for them both, and a Jim Beam chaser.

"I could ask you the same question. Our answers might even sync up."

The Lucky Sevens were dropped onto the varnished oak bar and he took one out and lit it. She was welcome to one if she wanted. If she still smoked. Did she smoke back then? He was pretty sure she did...

"There's somethin' attracting all kinds of people to a tiny little town not far from here. Buried in the ground maybe, or maybe it's a talisman or... fuck I dunno. It pulled me in back in the twenties and took me a while to get out. Did some research a bit ago and learned about an old church that used to sit on top of it that calmed it -- whatever it is -- right the fuck down. Only I still can't figure out what's goin' on, or how to plug it up."

[maddy_ricks]

Maddy took a cigarette from his pack. She watched the paper crackle as she inhaled, the nicotine a nice salve for her pride, still stung after all these years. But the wife, well, she could hardly claim credit for that one. Whistler was stir-crazy and the woman had him by the short hairs; he’d have jumped ship for a sheep in lipstick by the time Maddy came on the scene. But all she said was, “You always did prefer brunettes.”

“As for the other thing… plugging it up… and ignoring the obvious tampon jokes, why try?” She trained her eyes on the drink he bought her. Elfleda had mentioned that town and Maddy, who had no taste for getting mired in supernatural drama anymore, just tried to keep her nose out of it.

[whistlersmum]

"You're the second person who asked me that."

The round of beers and shots arrived, and Whistler dropped his in quick succession. "I'm tired of keeping the balance," he continued. "Thousands of years of making sure the scales even out. Doing bad for the greater good, doing good to keep the darkness at bay. It's exhausting.

"And when this blows up -- and it will -- I don't want blood on my hands 'cuz I didn't lift a finger."

The Agent ordered another round, despite Maddy's still being full.

"Why are you here then, if you're avoiding all things supernatural?"

[maddy_ricks]

“Try because I live here,” Maddy said. “I’m not a transient. I’ve been here six years now.”

Not a transient, no, and not a squatter, not the way she used to be. But she sure felt like a hooker in this dress. Maddy picked at the fabric. Seriously, what had possessed her to trade in jeans for this get-up? She supposed it had its advantages; no one wanted to run into an ex dressed like a hobo.

“Anyway, I don’t think you’re exhausted. My bet's on bored. Maybe the old immortality is wearing thin.” She reached over the touched the slight graying of hair at his ears, just visible under his hat.

[whistlersmum]

"When have you known me to get bored?"

[maddy_ricks]

“Really?” Maddy deadpanned. "You're asking me that?"

[whistlersmum]

"Says the woman in the dress." Whistler put extra emphasis on the last word. Even back in the 1940s she refused to dress the part.

"What would you suggest? I fiddle while Searchlight burns?"

[maddy_ricks]

“I wore a dress the day I bashed your head in,” she reminded him. Gave him one heck of a view up the backside when she waltzed across the room and climbed on somebody else’s lap, too. “But let’s see, what do I suggest.” She flicked her cigarette at an ashtray, missing entirely. “I suggest that you’re a shit for claiming my wardrobe is to blame for your wandering prick, and I suggest you watch your ass, because there are darker things playing this hand than you or me. We’re rats in a maze.”

Her fingers went up his sleeve. "Skitter skitter."

[whistlersmum]

"I don't know what that means."

It didn't stop him from shivering, however.

"And if there's something else at play, something worse, that's all the more reason to fight back."

[maddy_ricks]

“Guess you’ve picked a side, huh?”

The drink was too good a temptation, and why let it go to waste? She hefted and gulped. “The thing is, Gus, no emissary of white light ever paid me a personal visit. The other guys, though, I’ve met on several o-ccasions. It makes raising my metaphorical spear and going, ‘Rargh!’ for the good guys all the less likely.”

And what would she do, anyway? Collect secrets and trinkets like before? Unlock doors so that people could catch their enemies unaware? Back in the 60s, whenever a serious ne’er-do-well was burglarized, they always pointed a finger at Maddy whether she’d provided access or not. Being the easy one to blame was a real pain in the ass.

[whistlersmum]

"The side kinda picked me. Don't forget, my parents were from both sides of the dial. And it's Augustus, or at least was. You always took the piss outta my name."

He ashed out his half-forgotten cigarette and took out another, this time intent on not letting it go to waste.

"And it's not like you've never played for the white hats. Remember Watergate? That was so you."

[maddy_ricks]

She snorted so hard it made her cough.

"Some people consider nicknames a sign of affection. I don't walk around demanding people call me Madeleine all the time. It's pretentious. What am I, a ballerina?"

She grabbed a handful of peanuts and tossed them back.

[whistlersmum]

"There was that one time you showed up at my door wearing only a tutu."

[maddy_ricks]

She smiled sweetly. "Feeling nostalgic, are we?"

[whistlersmum]

He chuckled, taking a drag from his cigarette. "I'm old as sin, everything about me is nostalgic."

A second drag. "We sinned good together, didn't we."

[maddy_ricks]

“Yeah, I guess we did,” she conceded. Forty years was too long to hold a grudge against him. They’d run together long enough, and the only real crime Whistler committed was taking up with the next nearest girl. What a dumb-ass.

She wrinkled her nose. “Me especially. And that's before I started chasing skirts.”

She stubbed her cigarette out.

“Listen.” Maddy glanced over her shoulder, not looking for anyone in particular so much as getting a general feel for the place and who was in it. “I wasn’t kidding when I said the big dogs are in town. Biggest. So far they’re just feeling things out, I think, seeing who shows up and who does what. But for god’s sake, watch where you’re sniffing!”

[whistlersmum]

"I didn't get this old by being obvious," he winked.

The Agent nodded to her, letting Maddy know he had indeed heard the weight of her words. "If things get dark, don't hesitate to use that," he pointed to the key around her neck, "and get as far away as possible."

"And really?" He stubbed out his cigarette. "All our time together, you didn't bring that up once."

It wouldn't have kept him from straying, but it might've delayed the inevitable.

[maddy_ricks]

“What, so I could watch you make that face on top of someone else?” Maddy smirked at him. “Come on, Gus… get real.” She polished off the beer and slipped off the stool in no particularly dainty way. “I was going to ask if you wanted another go, for old times, but I’ve just decided I need to wash my hair.”

She pressed a red kiss to his cheek.

[whistlersmum]

He pressed back.

"You could pick a lock to a hairstylists and I could... wash it for you."

A beat.

Whistler bust out laughing. "I'm sorry, I couldn't keep a straight face."

[maddy_ricks]

She scrunched her nose. "What-- I--" Maddy shook her head. "That's your line? Seriously, why, younger version of me, why?" A slap to his shoulder and she walked away, more than happy to leave him with the bill.