#sometimes even the smallest change can change the cogs of fate

[pixelatedraindrops]

Yuma Month: Day 13: What If?

What if Yuma accepted Melami and Pucci’s offers to help him to the infirmary?

[corpse--diem]

An Offer You Can’t Refuse | Felix & Erin

When: Very shortly before Big Felix Featuring: @streetharmacist Summary: During a drink to celebrate a job well done, Erin and Felix decide they’re not quite finished after all.

It wasn’t a conventional location by any means, but the way Felix saw it, they had left convention behind a few miles back. Dale was dead. Bea was alive. There was plenty of reason to celebrate. And what better way than watching humans embarrass themselves at the Siren’s Serenade? With an Absinthe Hemingway in hand, he sat at one of the tables farthest from the karaoke stage. He didn’t mind a spotlight or two in the slightest but...time and place. It could come later. Roy Chambers. The name Erin had mentioned. It made sense why it lingered in his dome for so long. It was a familiar name. The kind that bears repeating. A few utterances invoked the spirit of old connections and he was nonetheless eager to share. If only to see where the threads all went to. Felix took a sip and eyed the door as he waited. The way things were, it was a matter that certainly demanded to be discussed.

Finding Felix in the Siren’s Serenade crowd didn’t take long. Hard to miss the only guy in the place with sunglasses and Erin made a mental note to sensitively bring that up someday. She took just a moment to ready herself, straighten up, shake the tension from her shoulders. The job had been taken care of - Dale was dead. No cops were breaking down her door. Felix was being paid in full again. Generally speaking, things were that surface-level kind of okay that made meeting up for drinks not nearly as terrifying as it could have been. “Some real beauts in here tonight, huh?” She greeted him with a warm grin. Thank God he’d picked a table far, far away from that mess. The whiskey she ordered when she passed by the bar came as she settled into the spot opposite him, and was quiet otherwise until the plucky server left them alone. “How’s business?” Erin asked over the top of her glass, watching the curve of his lips in lieu of black glass. “Running smoother, I hope? Now that you’ve got that big ol’ bald roadblock out of the way.”

“You really missed out on a winner earlier,” Felix said as he sat up a little straighter as Erin approached the table. “Just when you thought folks got tired of Bohemian Rhapsody, bam, there it is again. Just a pitch higher and a pitcher more drunk too. You gotta love it.” He adjusted in his seat, propped an ankle up on one knee as he settled. At her question, he smiled and took a sip of his absinthe. “Business? Well, it’s business and business is booming. I think it’s the encroaching summertime. Really gets the people in a certain sorta way, y’know?” It wouldn’t do to mention how much he and Blaine had discussed how sad the youth of White Crest could be. It was an off time for most and when that was the case, it was an on time for them. At big ol’ bald roadblock, he gave a loud laugh and set his glass down. “Well heck, I can say that the push and pull is making a lot more sense and that’s always real nice to see in my line of work,” he admitted with a tilt of his head. “And yours? It’s not, ah, going under, is it?” He smiled. “Surely it’s not. Certainly not after a loss like that, huh?”

Erin spared a glance at the travesty on stage and immediately winced. “Does that mean that A Whole New World duet I was looking forward to with you is off the table?” She asked playfully, trying hard not to watch his smallest gestures and movements with too much scrutiny. Something had changed. She wasn’t sure what exactly, and it wasn’t something she’d be quick to call it trust. Maybe she should have been more unsettled by how easy it was to joke with a man who was basically an accomplice to the murder she organized. “Yeah? Glad to hear it. I’ll take it that means all is well.” She shook her head, eyes dropping to watch the ripples slam against glass. Oh boy. She’d need an emptier glass before she asked him to shine a light on any of that. Wouldn’t be good. She looked up again at his question. “Well, losses are my gain, generally speaking,” she shrugged. She sat back, tapping her finger against her glass as she contemplated her next words carefully. “Honestly?  Retirement is starting to look pretty damn good right now and I gotta tell you--the packages available in our line of work? Not great. I know our buddy Dale would agree.” Warmth flooded her cheeks and suddenly she swore she could feel the heat brimming from the crematory chamber that very same man had left this world in. She paused, pushing past it and ease into another smile. “I’m hoping maybe you do too.”

“Oh, I won’t turn down a duet but let’s see how things are a few weeks from now, huh?” Felix said, mouth more in a curved line of knowing than anything close to a smile. “I’m nothing if not in it for a chance at some old-fashioned theatrics.” He loved his shadows without question but put the right spotlight on him and even a guy like him wanted to shine. And on the off chance it was the light of an interrogation room, he could make do. If he were someone else, gifted with the same knowledge, maybe they’d be put off by the way Erin smiled post-murder. Maybe even by how he did. They’d certainly be put off by the way they laughed and clinked glasses. Their stomachs wouldn’t handle it. Some people were just hungrier. A fact of life that his teeth fit around just fine. He could smile around it and he did so. “Oh yeah, very well but things could always be better,” he said with a thoughtful hum. “But ain’t that just how it is? Place like this, with what it has going on, it’s hard to ever really be satisfied since the work is never really done. I mean, you get it, right? All things considered, you got job security for life.” He tipped his glass towards her with a low laugh. As she spoke, he considered what she said carefully. There wasn’t any buzz in his chest other than the absinthe on his tongue. Words were everything to fae. They meant the slimmest difference between being in or getting out of a bind. “Hoping I do too, huh? Sounds to me like you’re looking for a newer, better deal. Very FDR of you, I dig it,” he said as he leaned forward intently. “Since we’re on the subject and all, I’ve got some information you might like to hear. About the ol’ bossman of yours.”

Old-fashioned. Erin had to laugh at that. Seemed to be this guy’s MO. It worked for him. “Why am I not surprised by that?” But he wasn’t wrong, about any of it, and part of her wondered if Dale had done them both a favor. He’d been the catalyst, the wild card that had spurned all of this on. Pissed Felix off enough to darken her doorway that fateful evening, stirring up tempers and trouble for them all. She could admit she’d grown comfortable, almost complacent in her rage, stewing and simmering. Now it was boiling over almost recklessly. It’d brought her here. If there was any hope to be had, it was right in front of her. Felix was quick. More knowledgeable than he let on. And sharp. She could tell that much already. Judging what side of the blade she fell on here was harder to distinguish but she knew she wanted to one the right one. “There’s always a better deal,” she nodded at his words, matching his dry smile. “Just ask any of my vendors though--I’m a hell of a negotiator.” Her eyes jumped from her drink to his sunglasses, momentary uncertainty flickering across her well set poker face at the mention of her boss. So much for that. “Do you? And how much is that gonna cost me?” She asked, shrugging nonchalantly. If she’d learned anything, it was that nothing came free. “If it’s worth anything at all. If you’re about to remind me that he’s a son of a bitch, trust me. I’m well aware.”

“You’re not? Dang, I gotta keep working on my front then.” Felix said with a smile as he unfolded an old matchbook and lit himself a cigarette. He waved the match out, breathed in nicotine, then breathed it out the side of his mouth. The karaoke choice shifted to something poppy that he didn’t recognize. It was bold what he and Erin were doing. Discussing dark things in the dim light of a karaoke bar. That was half of the thrill, really, the likelihood of being seen by the forces they discussed. Even if they were, no one would think anything of it right then. They were just chatting. See them now, but when the knifepoint touched to a neck with a pulse that hammered so hard the knife trembled, they might have wished they looked harder. Death granted a keen hindsight to the dying. One last gift. “Oh, I believe it. Death is an awful expensive business and while dirt naps are cheaper sometimes, can’t fault someone for wanting to rot in mahogany,” he said as he pulled the cigarette from between his lips and tapped it against the ashtray. “But gotta say, it’s good to know that you ain’t satisfied with all this business yet because I ain’t either. I think we can get dealt a better hand here.” He smiled. Erin was sharp. Quick. That was good. He appreciated the kind of company that could cut thin but cut deep. “Not much,” he admitted vaguely. “As for what I know, this guy, Roy Chambers? He ain’t just here. I’ve got some fellas in New York that know the name. He’s got his fingers in a lot of pies. A lot of pies that other people have made. Now that? That doesn’t sit right with me at all. Between you and me, guys like that shouldn’t have so much. It’s unseemly.”

There was something so incredibly appropriate about Felix lighting up that cigarette. Shadowy booths, shady conversations, smoke billowing around them in the dimly lit bar. Theatrics, case-in-point. Erin shook her head slowly, barely suppressing the smirk that lifted the corner of her lips. All they needed now was a black and white filter and a costume change to truly set the mood. “New York?” she echoed, raising her brows. Shit. This guy was a bigger deal than she anticipated with a reach like that. She could practically see the cogs and wheels spinning behind Felix’s glasses. “Of course he did. He probably thinks he’s the Elon Musk of White Crest,” she said, rolling her eyes. Didn’t surprise her though. Greed fueled monsters like Roy Chambers. He was a glutton, and a comfortable one. Constantly hungry, constantly devouring. Already trying to take bites out of her with her mother’s bones still stuck in his teeth. Her jaw set tightly and she glanced up from the napkin corner she was picking apart. “That’s a lot of pie, though. Sounds like you’re thinking about taking a few slices for yourself, yeah?” They were tiptoeing around it but there was no mistaking what Felix was implying. “If you’re offering--I could eat.”

Felix nodded through the smoke. “Yup. Makes sense. White Crest isn’t exactly a hub for this kinda work. Not really,” he said as he raised a hand and spread his fingers out. “He’s got a nice web here, sure, but a guy like this, it’s always bigger.” He smiled to himself then as he shifted forward and lifted himself from the shadow of the wall. He grinned. Erin got it. He had a feeling she would. She was tired of it and when people got tired of bullshit, they got restless. Proactive, even. And they made it known in ways that wouldn’t readily be forgotten. “Precisely, precisely.” His word manufacturing slowed as he got to thinking, his tongue pressed against the top of his mouth. “You see, I’d be fine taking a figure off or two, free up some space,” he admitted with a shrug, his tone easy. “Could do that, sure. It’d make things a little easier, you know, for you and me.” He gestured between the two of them. The grin he wore lessened by the second. “But I don’t think we’d be satisfied. Half-measures don’t sit right with me. Half-measures get you right back where you started.” He shook his head and looked at Erin. There wasn’t any concern or doubt in him. She got it. “Nah,” he said as he stabbed his cigarette into the ash tray. “We take off the whole fucking hand.” He laced his fingers together and sat up. “These debts you inherited? A couple Roy phalanges ought to cover it. With interest.” Money was a motivating factor in plenty but getting a guy back, that went further. It lived longer. “We do this? Really do this? We’re square for life. So yeah, Ms. Nichols, I’m offering.”

There it was--the proposition Felix had been inching toward since Erin had sat down across from him. At some point she knew it was coming. Maybe he needed someone low on Roy’s radar, capable of stomaching the hard jobs with a motivation matched his own. He sure as hell looked at her like he’d found someone to fill that slot. She could do it. He just needed to say the words and make it real. When he finally did, something dangerously close to hope woke with a hard start beneath her ribcage. She hadn’t expected that but she couldn’t pretend that it didn’t feel good. Her mind had been made up long before she finally spoke. 

“Let’s really do this, then. Let’s cut off the hand. I’ll take the whole damn arm if that’s what it takes,” she answered without hesitation. Bit back a big, sharp grin. If they failed, they died. That wasn’t lost on her for a second. She’d been in survival mode for so long now though that it was easy to forget what she was doing now was purely existing. It didn’t sustain or nurture. Just kept her alive enough to trudge through the next day. It was time. She was ready to live again, even if trying was the last thing she ever did, and she met Felix’s hand halfway across the table. “I’m all in.”