Post by D'Angelo on May 29, 2007 15:19:49 GMT -5
*** *** ***
November 11, 2003
*** *** ***
Danielle
November 11, 2003
*** *** ***
Danielle
It would never have happened if only she had remembered her purse…
Danielle Manderly eyed a row of teddy bears displayed on a long shelf at the back of "Rosemary's Little Things." It was a shop for babies and toddlers, and her sister, Raven, wanted to spend every free moment there. It seemed to Danielle that the shelves were a little more bare than they had been a few weeks ago, while their living room at home was filling more and more with rocking horses, rattles, big rubber balls, and of course, the most impressive collection of stuffed animals known to man. Raven had always been fascinated with babies, and now that she was having her second, that fascination seemed only to be growing. Danielle thought they were cute as any other girl, but from very early on, it was clear that Raven's maternal instincts ran much deeper than just that.
Born to be a mom, she reflected. Even as a child, Raven had been as much a mother to Danielle as their real mother had ever been. That was the nature of the girl that was Raven Manderly, and the woman that became Raven D’Angelo.
In her ninth month of pregnancy, Raven looked ready to explode. The child (a boy, the doctor was quite sure) seemed already to be taking after his father – oversized and late for everything. Raven was three days past her due date and her discomfort was beginning to show. She waddled from place to place, breathing heavily and trying desperately to pretend that this was the end of a magical experience. It was enough to make Danielle consider surgically altering her ability to have children.
But then Raven's hand would drift absently to the swell of her stomach and rub it gently, reminding Danielle why she, and most other women, had a deep-seeded desire to carry a baby at some point in her life. It was these small, subtle moments that Danielle considered truly beautiful about her sister.
Her first child, Haley, was only two years old and already Raven was bursting with another. There had even been a miscarriage in between, but that was something that Raven did not talk about.
Haley was in her stroller, only half awake, as her mother meticulously looked at the bears on the shelf, trying to decide if the boy inside her would prefer light blue or dark. Danielle doubted he cared either way, but to Raven, this was a decision that required a great amount of time and care.
"What do you think of this one?" Raven asked, snapping Danielle out of her bored daydream. It was a chore for Raven to reach the pale blue teddy bear on the shelf - so much of a chore that it seemed a futile effort. She was barely taller than five feet, if she was at all, and pregnant to boot. "I think he'd like it," she added from the tips of her toes. To Danielle, the bear she was reaching for looked like every other one on the shelf, save for a slight difference in coloring. Of course, Danielle just wanted to get out of the store. She knew there was only one way to make that happen.
"That one's perfect," she replied with her best phony smile and matching enthusiasm.
"I think so too," said Raven, more to herself than her little sister. It was obvious that she didn't care much for Danielle's opinion. But then again, Danielle supposed that her opinion didn't mean much in these matters anyway.
Raven continued to struggle to get the bear down from the shelf until Danielle finally got it for her. She wished Jason was there as she struggled on the tips of her toes– "Rosemary's Little Things" had a patronage mostly made up of women, but ironically the shelves were not made for short people. And besides, Raven was his wife. Why do I have to babysit her? Jason, the constant worrier, had insisted that Raven not be alone until the baby came.
Danielle let out a sigh. It was no surprise that the baby was late.
"Could you do me a big favor?" Raven asked as Danielle handed her the bear. Now it was her turn to put on her best phony smile. "Grab my purse for me, please?" She rubbed the light blue bear gently against her face and closed her eyes, probably trying to imagine how it might feel against her baby's skin.
"Where?"
"Under the stroller."
Danielle let out another sigh, but there was nothing to be done. Raven obviously couldn't bend down to get it – she had trouble just getting out of chairs. Danielle knelt down and reached for the undercarriage of the stroller. She felt Haley's bag and jacket, a couple of toys… but no purse.
"Not there."
"It's there," said Raven, without giving a second glance.
"No," Danielle replied, more than a little annoyed. She stood up again. "It's not. Maybe you left it in the car."
Raven seemed to consider that for a moment, but Danielle could read her sister's face immediately – the purse wasn't in the car. Danielle rolled her eyes. Raven did things like this all the time! She was constantly locking herself out of the car and the house, having to call either Danielle or Jason for help. She could never understand how the woman could see every detail in a flower arrangement and yet pay such little attention the objects she carried on her person.
"Do you have any money on you?"
"Yeah, when I heard we were coming to 'Rosemary's Little Things' I emptied my bank account," replied Danielle, her voice drenched in sarcasm.
"Alright," Raven had both the tone and face of a trooper. "I'll go home and get it."
"You're kidding! Why don't we just come back another day?"
"Because it might be too late another day!" Raven shot back, gesturing to her ready-to-burst stomach. "And I don't want someone else buying it."
"Fine," Danielle sighed. "I'll drive."
"No," replied Raven, pushing the pale blue teddy bear into Danielle's arms. "I'll go. It'll give me a chance to get off my feet. You guard the bear."
"You're kidding, right?"
"Do I look like I'm kidding?" Raven's small face was stern. "I'll only be a few minutes. And Danielle, if someone else buys this bear while I'm gone – I will kill you. Alright? Alright. Love ya."
There was no arguing with Raven D’Angelo in times like this, and Danielle was well accustomed to that fact. Left with Haley and the pale blue teddy bear, she watched Raven waddle out the door of "Rosemary's Little Things" and toward her car, parked next to the sidewalk. She might have said something more meaningful, anything at all, had she known it would be the last time she would ever see her older sister.
The Sun and the Stone Soundtrack
[/u]Track 1
"Died"
Alice in Chains
I could climb until I reach where angels reside
Ask around to find out where the junkies apply
You just up and left me on this rock all alone
It's my fault for knowing not what I should have known
Oh,
My heart is dried up,
Beating slow
It's been depleting since you died
Since you died
You died
I could drop until I touch the sinister side
Visit all attractions flipping back and aside
Still, you leave me rotting on this rock all alone
It's my fault for knowing not what I should have known
Oh,
My heart is dried up,
Beating slow
It's been depleting since you died
Since you died
You died
Oh,
My heart is dried up,
Beating slow
It's been depleting since you died
Since you died
You died
I could climb until I reach where angels reside
I could drop until I touch the sinister side …
*** *** ***
August 25, 2006
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Emily[/center]
Emily Manderly shifted uneasily in the passenger seat of her sister's small, red Toyota. They had been driving for days, only stopping a few times to catch six hours of sleep at cheap motels before hitting the road again. Danielle was twenty-one, a full six years older than Emily, and right now, Emily hated her.
"I don't see why I can't just stay with you," Emily pouted, and not for the first time. Her arms were folded defiantly across her chest and she was staring at a small body of water on the right-hand side of the road. She couldn't be sure if it was a lake or a river, but there was a lone boat out at the center of it – a canoe, she thought. It was just drifting out there, seemingly whichever way the wind might choose to take it. Its owner appeared asleep, reclined on one end with his arms dangling out over the sides – his hands were wrist-deep in the water.
"For God's sake, Emily," Danielle hissed, "there's no way you'd be allowed to stay in my dorm room. We've been over this a thousand times!"
"But I'd be quiet! They'd never know I was there!"
"And what about school?" Danielle raised an eyebrow. Of course, she was right. She was always right – big sisters had a way of doing that. Danielle often reminded her that she had it even worse, growing up with Raven - but Raven was dead now and that left Danielle the queen of everything. "It won't be so bad, Emily. Jason's family."
"But I barely know him!" Emily protested.
"Hey," Danielle's tone was one that would brook no argument, "it's either here or back up north with Dad and the pregnant dog queen of the Mississippi."
Emily sighed, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes, pouting all the while. None of this would ever have happened had her father not lost his mind and decided to marry the most evil woman on the planet last year. Her name was Candy, she was from Mississippi, and she seemed to hate Emily from the start. Things got so bad that just two months after their wedding, Emily ran away to live with her sister at the University of British Columbia. But when she got there, Danielle wasn't even happy to see her! She just packed her in the car and drove her directly home.
Of course, things only got worse from there. The pregnant dog queen was constantly in high gear, making Emily’s life complete hell. Her father didn’t even seem to notice. Emily would call Danielle and plead her situation, but Danielle just thought Emily was being a typical teenager, full of drama and complaints. Emily thought that was hypocritical, considering Danielle hadn't lived with their father since she was sixteen – that was when she moved in with her older sister. Emily thought she would be able to do the same thing, but Danielle wouldn't have it. But then a few months later, Danielle decided to come home for a summer to stay with their father and get to know his new bride. That was when they dubbed Candy the "pregnant dog queen of the Mississippi" and Danielle saw just how unbearable Emily's living situation really was.
Still, she refused to take Emily in. Raven would have taken me in, thought Emily, and not for the first time. Instead, she was shipping her off to live with a brother-in-law she hadn't seen since Raven's funeral – that was three years ago! And he had never seemed like a pleasant man to Emily at all! Even before Raven's death, there was something about him that scared her. He always reminded her of a caged lion – happy to be domesticated, but capable of snapping at any moment.
"He scares me," Emily said after a long moment of silence. She looked over at her sister to try to pick something up on her body language. Instead, she only reflected on how Danielle looked very little like Raven had looked – Danielle was beautiful in a different, more conventional way. Raven, on the other hand, had been beautiful in her own very unique way. Raven had had tiny features fit for a tiny face, countered by very large brown eyes that always seemed impossibly warm. Danielle didn't really resemble Raven, despite having many of those same features. She had long, flowing brown hair, where Raven's had been shoulder length and very dark, and Danielle’s face always reminded Emily of a baby seal. She had a few freckles on her cheeks as well, where Raven's skin had always been fair. And most obviously, but least talked about, Danielle's breasts were much smaller. As a child, Emily had made fun of her for that, but then as she grew older she realized that it was far too immature a subject.
"He's a scary guy," Danielle laughed. She must have noticed that Emily was serious by the appalled look on her face, so she went on: "Stop being such a baby, Emily. There's nothing to be scared of. He's…" She seemed to consider her words. "He's like a big teddy bear."
"More like a lion," countered Emily. Back when he used to be on television, Jason was often referred to as a lion. He kind of looked like one – at least, Emily always thought he did. He had blond hair that looked like a mane when he grew it long, and sometimes he even wore a beard. She remembered talking on the phone with Raven years ago, when she was still a child, and listening to her sister complain about both the hair and the beard. "I swear, Emily," she had begun one night when Emily was eleven, "when you get married, I'm going to make sure I find you a man that shaves and gets a hair cut at least once a year. I'm tempted to take scissors into the bedroom while he's sleeping."
And now Emily was on her way to live with him, though he didn't know it yet.
Jason
If only there was someone to blame…
In another life, they called him "D’Angelo." Tens of thousands of fans cheered him; chanted his name while he stood in a spotlight, being broadcast to millions of viewers in their homes. On other nights, they cursed him - their jeers could grow so loud that there were times he thought the noise might crack the very foundation of the building. Whether they loved him or hated him depended on the night – but on every night, they respected him. They respected him because he was damn good at what he did. Some said he was the best… maybe he was.
He had tasted victory on the highest scale – swam in success so thick that it immortalized him.
He had been so young then…
He was young still, he supposed, in years. But in spirit, Jason D’Angelo was an ancient man.
"Another?" The bartender of the Rusty Bucket was named Jerry and he stank of sweat and whatever foul thing happened to be on his breath that night. He worked under a man named Marvin Madison who owned the filthy joint, and Marvin paid Jason's employer for protection - robberies, vandalism, and the like. Only, he was light on the last three payments. Jason was to either bring back the money owed, or, in his own special way, send the message that his employer was very, very disappointed. Marvin wasn't here tonight, but Jason didn't see much difference between breaking his leg and breaking Jerry's. Either way, the message would be sent. That was his business here tonight – usually, he was only here to drink.
Jason didn't say anything; just slid his empty glass toward Jerry, who immediately went beneath the bar and produced a half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan rum. This was their ritual, and had been for some time. Jerry didn't know that tonight was different than most.
He had long, thinning black hair that was so greasy it looked wet, and it was pulled back into a tight pony tail. He wore a thick mustache as well with signs of his age coming through in the form of gray whiskers. His forearms were large and covered with home-made tattoos that had long faded past any hope of recognition. His gut was large too, but for different reasons.
"Last one for the night – I'm closing up soon," said Jerry as he topped up Jason's glass with coke. He knew Jason well. He knew who he had been in the past and he knew who he was now – the Lion of Red Town, they called him. Hired muscle at the bottom rung of the Hattoni crime family. A brute. A murderer. Jason hadn't paid for a drink at the Rusty Bucket in over a year.
It was a slummy bar in a slummy part of the city. The red district, or "Red Town," as the locals called it, and they called Jason "The Lion." The bar was filled with bikers and truckers, most of whom were trying to act tougher than they really were, probably for fear that the others might find out they were really just another coward in leather and ink. They infested the place like rats, stinking of sweat, smoke, and booze. They used to give Jason a hard time when he first started coming around. They didn't anymore. Rats that they were, they learned their lessons fast.
The women in the bar were no better. Dressed in little more than their underwear, they fawned over Jason like love-struck teenagers. He wasn't sure if it was because of the way he looked or because of the way he was feared. Women were strange creatures, and there were few, if any, good ones left. He doubted any of the women in the Rusty Bucket were completely clean of diseases.
He was starting to feel the sweet cloud of alcohol forming in his head, just in time to drown out more memories of his late wife. Not an hour had past since her death that she didn't pay him a visit in his mind – perhaps not a minute. When he slept, she haunted his dreams as much now as she had when they were young and in love, with their entire future ahead of them. Now she was gone, the constant yearning was torturous, and he took refuge from her ghost wherever he could find it. Tonight, he hoped the task at hand might occupy his mind enough to give him one of those brief moments of escape he so craved.
"I need a word with you," he said to Jerry, who had already made his way to another customer. It was only the second time Jason had spoken all night – the other being to order his first drink. Jerry paused and looked over at him, immediately abandoning the other customer.
"What's up?" he asked as he wandered back over. Jason noted the small tremors in his hands and the slightly higher pitch of his voice. He was nervous, and he had good reason to be.
"After you close."
He watched the color drain from Jerry's face. "Oh."
"You know what it's about," said Jason as he emptied what was left of his drink. Jerry did know – he could see that much on the sweaty bartender's face.
"Look, man," Jerry held his hands up innocently, speaking over the loud southern rock music, but still quiet enough that his words reached only Jason. "Marvin handles all the deals with your boys – I ain't got nothing to do with any of that. I just work here, man. That's all."
"Doesn't work that way," Jason shook his head. "Four thousand, and not a penny less."
"I don't know nothing about that!" said Jerry, a little too loudly - a little too harsh. Calmly, Jason leaned back and took a look around the room to see if any unwanted eyes were directed their way. There were a few, but there was nothing to be done about it. He turned his attention back to Jerry and gave him a cold, hard look – the look that was one of his trademarks in his days as a professional wrestler. It was a glare that could both melt ice and freeze the devil himself.
"Four thousand," he repeated.
"Tell Johnny, Marvin's in on Sunday." Jerry's voice was getting desperate.
"Four thousand."
The reality of the situation was finally settling in with Jerry. His eyes became shifty and the tremors in his hands grew. They were likely visible from halfway across the room now. Don't get stupid, Jason thought, wondering if maybe Jerry kept a weapon of some sort on his side of the bar. I don't want to have to f**king kill you. But Jerry just stood there, shaking so fiercely that Jason thought at one point he might piss all over his cowboy boots. There wasn't much more he could do now, and after taking another quick scan of the room, Jason supposed there was no point in delaying the inevitable.
He stood up, and in a sweeping roundhouse motion, smashed his empty glass into the side of Jerry's face. The glass shattered on impact, and Jason couldn't be sure if the blood he saw was coming from Jerry's face or his own hand. Jerry collapsed in a heap behind the bar, reaching for his injury in agony. To his credit, he didn't scream. Jason leaped over the bar before any of the patrons could react, picked up Jerry's chair, and began slamming it across the bartender's knees. Once… twice… three times… When Jason felt the man's leg snap, finally, Jerry let out a pain-drenched scream. The very next shot shattered the wooden chair, and Jason supposed his work was done.
He knelt down and grabbed Jerry by his long, thinning hair, pulling his face so close that he was sure Jerry could smell the alcohol on his breath. "One week," he warned him, and when he stood up he was ready to take on all comers. Luckily, all of the patrons seemed too in shock to react to what had happened. Some of them looked angry, but no one stepped forward, either knowing Jason's reputation or simply being cowards by nature. To the man closest, Jason gave a fiery glare. "You didn't see anything," he told the man, a rather large biker, who in turn nodded and kept his mouth shut. Jason returned the nod and headed for the exit.
Once a phenom in the wrestling world, circumstance had lead Jason D’Angelo to this. He was nothing more than a lowly henchman in the Hattoni crime family. Some men respected him, others hated him, but all of them feared him. In another life, he'd listened to tens of thousands of fans chant his name, but those days seemed gone forever. They called him "The Lion of Red Town" now, and it was a name that he had earned through deeds that would haunt his conscience for the rest of his days.
