Neutral Ground (Challenge #133) -- PG-13
Posted: Sun Jan 01, 2012 6:21 am
AN:: Talk about sliding in under the wire…the deadline for the Holiday Challenge is less than 45 minutes away….I hope you enjoy. As usual, I don’t own much of anything.
Neutral Ground
Thanksgiving, 1962
November in Los Angeles was always a little chancy, and tonight was no exception. A misting rain obscured the lights of the city, wrapping the tall, Art Deco building in a shimmering haze. Mick looked up at the tan façade, grimacing at the gargoyles guarding the stone tracery. Pretentious, he thought. He turned to the woman standing next to him, her face dewed with the same moisture that beaded on the velvet collar of her scarlet dress coat. Her brunette hair around the little matching pillbox hat she wore was spangled with the sparkling drops. She was focusing up, looking at the top floors of the building.
“Okay, Coraline, what gives?”
She favored him with a sidelong glance. Ten years ago, he’d have found it seductive, but a lot of water had passed under that bridge. “Don’t you like it?”
He’d thought they were coming to the Biltmore to feed; a big hotel, lots of out of town guests at this holiday season, it was a perfect place to find some blood that wouldn’t be missed. Instead, she’d pulled at his arm, led him out into the open space of Pershing Square to look at this building.
Mick shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.” He eyed a lone, passing pedestrian, a man with his coat collar turned up against the mist. “Aren’t we hunting?”
“Oh, Mick, must you always think with your fangs?” she pouted. “I think we should buy that building. It’s perfect for us.”
He hunched his shoulders a bit, and shoved his hands in his pockets. They’d barely been back together for a month—she’d called him the day after Halloween, he recalled, suggesting a truce. And he’d agreed. They regularly spent time apart; just as regularly one or the other would break down and get in contact. The make-up sex was, he had to admit, stupendous. He was pretty sure it would have killed him, back in his mortal days. But sooner or later, something reared its ugly head between them. It wasn’t always the same thing, but more and more it was becoming money. Her money, and his scruples.
“For us,” he said shortly.
“You know—I can’t stand that awful little flat you have, and you don’t like my house, so I thought…neutral ground. Some place that was ours, not yours, not mine,” Coraline said. “Someplace we can start fresh.”
“Yeah, and whose money is going to pay for this monstrosity?” Mick said. He hated the way he was being, but it was something he couldn’t stop. There were names for men who lived off their women, and he didn’t like them.
Coraline sighed, and laid a placating hand on his arm. “It’s our money, Mick. You know everything I have is yours, too.”
“That’s not how I see it.”
It was an old argument, a weary argument, all the worse for being rehashed out here, in the public air of this square.
“Look, let’s just take a look at the place. If you don’t want to buy it, maybe we could lease the top floors. Make it a new home.” She paused. “Josef got me a key. Come on, Mick, what’s the harm in looking?”
He sighed, aware she was cajoling him. “I don’t know. I’m getting pretty hungry.”
Coraline moved closer to him, her red lips next to his ear, her hand straying dangerously close to his hip. “We’ll be all alone up there, darling, and I’ll bet blood’s not the only thing you’re hungry for. “
Damn, but she always knew just how to turn him on. He agreed before she could start detailing exactly what she intended to do to him up in that loft, and stuck an arm out for her to take, as they walked across Pershing Square.
What the hell, he thought. They probably wouldn’t be together long enough to move in, anyway.
Christmas, 1985
“Mick?” Josef called, his voice almost echoing in the empty space. He could see a single line of footprints, about the size 11 of the boots his friend habitually wore, tracked in the deep dust of the loft.
“I’m out here,” Mick replied. You never knew about the weather at this time of year in California. It might be sunny and warm in a couple of days, in time for Christmas, but right now, it was almost raining, and even with vampire eyesight, only the streetlights below let him make out anything at street level. He seemed to recall, something, vaguely…the weather had been much like this that time he and Coraline had visited this place.
He was trying hard not to think about her, right now. It was too raw a wound, that she was finally gone from his life forever—and the fact that he’d been responsible for it, gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He forced his mind away from her, from the past, and tried to focus on that little girl he’d rescued from Coraline. Maybe he was trading one addiction for another, but right now, he needed a lifeline, and sweet little Bethie Turner was the only option he had.
Lost in thought, he didn’t hear Josef come up behind him, starting at his voice.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, pal, you were faster than I thought.”
“What?”
“By my watch, 22 minutes exactly from when my courier reported delivery of those documents, until you were on the phone demanding my presence at this charming soiree. I’ve got to say, I love what you haven’t done with the place.” Josef made an expansive gesture with his gloved hands.
“Nice to see you, too, Joz’f.” Mick turned around and leaned against the parapet, folding his arms across his chest. “You want to explain to me what the hell is going on here?”
Josef blinked innocently. “You own the building. The rents have been piling up in a separate account, and the taxes and whatnot have been paid out of that. Admittedly, you’ve taken ‘absentee landlord’ to a whole new level, but basically, the place is yours.” He looked around. “Nice view up here. You thinking of moving in?”
Mick pursed his lips. “I had no idea. This…this wasn’t in any portfolio I ever saw.”
Josef shifted his eyes. “Ah. Yes. Well. Look, Coraline was a bitch, but she was trying to do right by you. And this was one of the ways she went about it.”
Mick moved a little, the leather of his jacket creaking. “So, she bought this building in, what, 1963—”
“1962.”
“Whatever. And put it in my name—”
“And under my management.”
“Without telling me.”
“Apparently so.”
“And in 23 years, you never thought to mention it to me.”
Josef shrugged, his elegant alpaca topcoat glittering with clinging mist. “Look, she wanted it to be a surprise. And since it was one of the pleasanter surprises for you she came up with, I went along with it.” He frowned. “Where’s the harm, Mick? This building was a present, for you, in 1962. She told me you wouldn’t take her money, so she set this up to give you some income. Every cent this building has made, and believe me, it’s made plenty, over the past 23 years is your money. Not hers.”
“I never meant to profit by her death. You know that’s not why I—“
“Of all the boneheaded things I’ve seen you do, I’m pretty well aware that killing your wife for her money…not your style.”
“That’s a ringing vote of confidence.”
“Actually, it is.” Josef sighed. “Are you being deliberately obtuse, or is this just your natural idiocy kicking in? She didn’t leave you this building. It’s yours, and it’s been yours for years. You just didn’t happen to know about it, that’s all.”
“I don’t know, man, I’ve gotta think about this.” Mick looked around, as they walked back inside the main room. Against his better judgment, he had to admit he liked the place. At least he thought he did. He couldn’t tell much under the accumulation of nearly a quarter century’s dirt and grime. “Has anyone ever leased the top floors?”
Josef shook his head. “They’ve been set aside for you. All this time, the space has been waiting for you.” He scuffed a foot in the dust. “Well, you and a team of cleaners and designers. I can recommend—”
“I’ll find someone.”
“Yeah, sure you will. Look, I’m headed out of town for a few days. Call me after Christmas. And I’ll see you at my New Year’s party, right? I’ve got this little redhead picked out for you.”
“I’ll call you, Joz’f. Not too sure about the party, though.”
His friend grinned at him. “I’m telling you, she’s perfect for you.” He sketched a curvaceous form in the air. “Just the way you like ‘em.”
“Later, Joz’f.”
Mick hung behind after his friend had left, wandering through the rooms of the space that Coraline had set aside for him—for them—so long ago. He wanted to see if he could find any traces of her lingering in the place, anything that would remind him of their one visit here, the tempestuous love they’d made in the cold damp atmosphere of this uninhabited loft. What had she said about it? Neutral ground, a place for a fresh start.
Now, 23 years later, he’d killed her. Killed her and pledged himself to watch over a young girl, to do good and not evil in this world. He guessed you could call that a fresh start. And maybe, in this place, he could find the will to make that fresh start a lasting reality.
He realized he hadn’t wished Josef a Merry Christmas, and rushed to the elevator, hoping he could catch up. He wasn’t quite sure why, but suddenly it seemed important.
Neutral Ground
Thanksgiving, 1962
November in Los Angeles was always a little chancy, and tonight was no exception. A misting rain obscured the lights of the city, wrapping the tall, Art Deco building in a shimmering haze. Mick looked up at the tan façade, grimacing at the gargoyles guarding the stone tracery. Pretentious, he thought. He turned to the woman standing next to him, her face dewed with the same moisture that beaded on the velvet collar of her scarlet dress coat. Her brunette hair around the little matching pillbox hat she wore was spangled with the sparkling drops. She was focusing up, looking at the top floors of the building.
“Okay, Coraline, what gives?”
She favored him with a sidelong glance. Ten years ago, he’d have found it seductive, but a lot of water had passed under that bridge. “Don’t you like it?”
He’d thought they were coming to the Biltmore to feed; a big hotel, lots of out of town guests at this holiday season, it was a perfect place to find some blood that wouldn’t be missed. Instead, she’d pulled at his arm, led him out into the open space of Pershing Square to look at this building.
Mick shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.” He eyed a lone, passing pedestrian, a man with his coat collar turned up against the mist. “Aren’t we hunting?”
“Oh, Mick, must you always think with your fangs?” she pouted. “I think we should buy that building. It’s perfect for us.”
He hunched his shoulders a bit, and shoved his hands in his pockets. They’d barely been back together for a month—she’d called him the day after Halloween, he recalled, suggesting a truce. And he’d agreed. They regularly spent time apart; just as regularly one or the other would break down and get in contact. The make-up sex was, he had to admit, stupendous. He was pretty sure it would have killed him, back in his mortal days. But sooner or later, something reared its ugly head between them. It wasn’t always the same thing, but more and more it was becoming money. Her money, and his scruples.
“For us,” he said shortly.
“You know—I can’t stand that awful little flat you have, and you don’t like my house, so I thought…neutral ground. Some place that was ours, not yours, not mine,” Coraline said. “Someplace we can start fresh.”
“Yeah, and whose money is going to pay for this monstrosity?” Mick said. He hated the way he was being, but it was something he couldn’t stop. There were names for men who lived off their women, and he didn’t like them.
Coraline sighed, and laid a placating hand on his arm. “It’s our money, Mick. You know everything I have is yours, too.”
“That’s not how I see it.”
It was an old argument, a weary argument, all the worse for being rehashed out here, in the public air of this square.
“Look, let’s just take a look at the place. If you don’t want to buy it, maybe we could lease the top floors. Make it a new home.” She paused. “Josef got me a key. Come on, Mick, what’s the harm in looking?”
He sighed, aware she was cajoling him. “I don’t know. I’m getting pretty hungry.”
Coraline moved closer to him, her red lips next to his ear, her hand straying dangerously close to his hip. “We’ll be all alone up there, darling, and I’ll bet blood’s not the only thing you’re hungry for. “
Damn, but she always knew just how to turn him on. He agreed before she could start detailing exactly what she intended to do to him up in that loft, and stuck an arm out for her to take, as they walked across Pershing Square.
What the hell, he thought. They probably wouldn’t be together long enough to move in, anyway.
Christmas, 1985
“Mick?” Josef called, his voice almost echoing in the empty space. He could see a single line of footprints, about the size 11 of the boots his friend habitually wore, tracked in the deep dust of the loft.
“I’m out here,” Mick replied. You never knew about the weather at this time of year in California. It might be sunny and warm in a couple of days, in time for Christmas, but right now, it was almost raining, and even with vampire eyesight, only the streetlights below let him make out anything at street level. He seemed to recall, something, vaguely…the weather had been much like this that time he and Coraline had visited this place.
He was trying hard not to think about her, right now. It was too raw a wound, that she was finally gone from his life forever—and the fact that he’d been responsible for it, gave him a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He forced his mind away from her, from the past, and tried to focus on that little girl he’d rescued from Coraline. Maybe he was trading one addiction for another, but right now, he needed a lifeline, and sweet little Bethie Turner was the only option he had.
Lost in thought, he didn’t hear Josef come up behind him, starting at his voice.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, pal, you were faster than I thought.”
“What?”
“By my watch, 22 minutes exactly from when my courier reported delivery of those documents, until you were on the phone demanding my presence at this charming soiree. I’ve got to say, I love what you haven’t done with the place.” Josef made an expansive gesture with his gloved hands.
“Nice to see you, too, Joz’f.” Mick turned around and leaned against the parapet, folding his arms across his chest. “You want to explain to me what the hell is going on here?”
Josef blinked innocently. “You own the building. The rents have been piling up in a separate account, and the taxes and whatnot have been paid out of that. Admittedly, you’ve taken ‘absentee landlord’ to a whole new level, but basically, the place is yours.” He looked around. “Nice view up here. You thinking of moving in?”
Mick pursed his lips. “I had no idea. This…this wasn’t in any portfolio I ever saw.”
Josef shifted his eyes. “Ah. Yes. Well. Look, Coraline was a bitch, but she was trying to do right by you. And this was one of the ways she went about it.”
Mick moved a little, the leather of his jacket creaking. “So, she bought this building in, what, 1963—”
“1962.”
“Whatever. And put it in my name—”
“And under my management.”
“Without telling me.”
“Apparently so.”
“And in 23 years, you never thought to mention it to me.”
Josef shrugged, his elegant alpaca topcoat glittering with clinging mist. “Look, she wanted it to be a surprise. And since it was one of the pleasanter surprises for you she came up with, I went along with it.” He frowned. “Where’s the harm, Mick? This building was a present, for you, in 1962. She told me you wouldn’t take her money, so she set this up to give you some income. Every cent this building has made, and believe me, it’s made plenty, over the past 23 years is your money. Not hers.”
“I never meant to profit by her death. You know that’s not why I—“
“Of all the boneheaded things I’ve seen you do, I’m pretty well aware that killing your wife for her money…not your style.”
“That’s a ringing vote of confidence.”
“Actually, it is.” Josef sighed. “Are you being deliberately obtuse, or is this just your natural idiocy kicking in? She didn’t leave you this building. It’s yours, and it’s been yours for years. You just didn’t happen to know about it, that’s all.”
“I don’t know, man, I’ve gotta think about this.” Mick looked around, as they walked back inside the main room. Against his better judgment, he had to admit he liked the place. At least he thought he did. He couldn’t tell much under the accumulation of nearly a quarter century’s dirt and grime. “Has anyone ever leased the top floors?”
Josef shook his head. “They’ve been set aside for you. All this time, the space has been waiting for you.” He scuffed a foot in the dust. “Well, you and a team of cleaners and designers. I can recommend—”
“I’ll find someone.”
“Yeah, sure you will. Look, I’m headed out of town for a few days. Call me after Christmas. And I’ll see you at my New Year’s party, right? I’ve got this little redhead picked out for you.”
“I’ll call you, Joz’f. Not too sure about the party, though.”
His friend grinned at him. “I’m telling you, she’s perfect for you.” He sketched a curvaceous form in the air. “Just the way you like ‘em.”
“Later, Joz’f.”
Mick hung behind after his friend had left, wandering through the rooms of the space that Coraline had set aside for him—for them—so long ago. He wanted to see if he could find any traces of her lingering in the place, anything that would remind him of their one visit here, the tempestuous love they’d made in the cold damp atmosphere of this uninhabited loft. What had she said about it? Neutral ground, a place for a fresh start.
Now, 23 years later, he’d killed her. Killed her and pledged himself to watch over a young girl, to do good and not evil in this world. He guessed you could call that a fresh start. And maybe, in this place, he could find the will to make that fresh start a lasting reality.
He realized he hadn’t wished Josef a Merry Christmas, and rushed to the elevator, hoping he could catch up. He wasn’t quite sure why, but suddenly it seemed important.