Participants:
| Scene Title | Frustrating and Extremely Evasive |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Cat meets with Nicole to discuss her mother's campaign. |
| Date | February 10, 2010 |
A comfortable place, located in the basement of 14 East 4th Street. The red brick walls are covered with memorabilia from various icons of rock and places in rock history, creating a feel similar to that of a Hard Rock Café.
The left wall has two bars separated by swinging doors which lead to and from the kitchen. Directly across from the entrance is a two foot high stage with all the equipment needed for acts to perform there. The right wall has three doors marked as restrooms: two for use by women and one by men.
Thirty square feet of open space for dancing and standing room is kept between the stage and the comfortable seating placed around tables which fill the remainder of the Cellar.
The lighting here is often kept dim for purposes of ambience, and when performers are onstage the place is loud enough to make conversation difficult. Just inside the door is a podium where location staff check IDs and stamp the hands of those under twenty-one with a substance visible under UV lights at the two bars and by devices the servers carry. On the podium's front is a sign with big black letters that just about explain it all: If You Don't Like Rock 'N' Roll, You're Too Late Now!
On Jenn Chesterfield's advice - or insistence - Nicole has arranged a meeting with the boss' keeps-to-herself daugther, Catherine. The Rock Cellar wouldn't be her first choice for a meeting of this importance, but it seems meeting at bars and clubs is the new board room.
Dressed in a black pencil skirt with a matching blazer over a silk electric blue blouse, Nicole definitely doesn't fit in with this crowd. Perching her sunglasses on top of her head, she sweeps the bar for any sign of Cat.
The door is unlocked. Inside things are quiet as a few staffers move around prepping for the day. One of the bars is dark, the other has a solo 'tender behind it. Cat herself is seated at a shadowy table placed to allow viewing the interior as a whole. Before her are a variety of documents, perhaps legal briefs or results from some variety of research. She is, however, clad in a businesslike manner. Charcoal grey jacket and skirt, black pumps, white blouse. All from Brooks Brothers. Her eyes travel over to the arriving guest, just as a server steps up. "Miss Nichols," she greets, "Doctor Chesterfield is this way. Would you care for something to drink? Menus are on the table, the food is quite good here." A hand gesture invites the personal assistant to follow her.
"Just a Shirley Temple," Nicole tells the helpful server as she follows her to Cat's table. "Thank you." Rather than take a seat immediately, Nicole offers her hand to the younger woman. "Catherine. It's a pleasure to finally meet you face to face. Your mother speaks very highly of you," she greets with what seems to be a genuine smile.
A handshake offer. It prompts wondering if the woman is a psychometrist. Sarisa's image flashes in her mind. There's a moment of contemplation before she reaches out with her own right hand to shake once and release, hoping she doesn't live to regret it for that reason. Her skin is warm and smooth, soft, with calluses near the fingertips which might come from playing guitar. Her grip, also, is stronger than what many might expect from a woman but not crushing. She offers a mild smile, replying "Likewise, Nicole. Or Stephanie. It's interesting you say Mother speaks well of me. Please, do make yourself comfortable."
The server has gone away to get that Shirley Temple and secure a Pepsi for Cat.
The assistant takes her seat and crosses one leg over the other. "Stephanie? No, no. It's Nicole." Now goes unspoken. "And why do you find that interesting? All mothers are meant to be proud of their children. Yours is certainly no exception." She leans back in her chair and smiles pleasantly. "I came here today to discuss a couple things with you. The first being your mother's campaign. Could you tell me how you feel about your mother's ambitions?"
"We've disagreements," Cat replies with a chuckle, "over a few things. It's noble to have ambitions, if they're guided by the right motivations, and don't have unsavory people behind the scenes." It's a choice, and it may well be things are going unsaid; the panmnesiac choosing not to delve into familial laundry. "I admire your former employer greatly," she goes on to say. "It's a sad thing he was turned aside from taking the oath. Tell me, is Allen Rickham helping with Mother's campaign?"
"Not to my knowledge," Nicole answers smoothly. "I handle most of your mother's strategies." She tips her head to one side and squints faintly. "You didn't really answer my question. There's no wrong answer, Catherine. I just want to know your honest feelings on the campaign. Do you think your mother should be mayor of New York City?"
"What I think," Cat replies quietly, "depends a great deal on whether or not Allen is working with her. I'd put far more faith in some of the choices she's made, people she's renewed associations with, and her claims regarding the nature of those links as they presently stand if he's assisting her. But I haven't seen him since shortly before the campaign was launched. Or spoken with Mother since shortly after, when she revealed some things to me. Links to a firm just as tarnished as, if not more so, than Pinehearst." Her features shift slightly, something briefly showing in the woman's eyes before being chased away. Was that sadness?
"Those links cast doubt as to whether she's fit to hold the Mayor's office, and cause me to suspect there may be an attempt to rig the election by those parties. If you see Allen, please do pass along I'd like to speak with him."
She falls silent as the server returns with their drinks and sets them on the table, Nicole's first.
Nicole fills the time it takes the server to depart with sipping her drink. Cat's given her a little bit to think about. After they're left alone again, she leans forward, resting one elbow on the table surface. "I worked with Allen. I believed in him, and I believe in your mother. Does that mean anything to you?"
"I want to believe this campaign, and Mother being fairly elected, would be a step toward lessening the power of people who engineered the rise of that unregistered SLC person who stole Allen's spot in the Oval Office," Cat replies, "among other things. You're working her campaign, and came here to see me, so I imagine she's made you privy to some things over and above what the press has recently claimed. I won't elaborate, my interest is in hearing how much she's opted to share. There is, of course, more. But I first wonder how well you'd believe me, Nicole."
She wraps fingers around the pepsi glass and lifts it.
"Your mother wants to be fairly elected, Catherine. I swear that to you on my own mother's grave. It's our job as children to question our parents' motives, as an attempt made by each generation to be a little bit better than the one that came before." Nicole smiles faintly at that and shrugs. "I'll be honest with you… I want you to make a statement to the press about your former involvement with PARIAH. Come clean, explain that you were a misguided kid, fleeced by the ideals they represented and now you've pulled the wool from over your eyes and you are ready to support your mother as a fine, upstanding citizen." Nicole's smile grows a little bit wider, nodding her head as she offers her suggestions. "Because that's what you are, aren't you, Catherine? I mean, you wouldn't be stupid enough to announce you used to be in league with terrorists if you still were, right?" You catch my drift?
The corners of her lips quirk. "Terrorism is counter-productive," Cat commences, "the only thing it can achieve is increasing the resolve of those who'd exterminate people who are different. Therefore, above and beyond its including the murder of people not directly involved with the issue at hand, I've never been a terrorist. I have acted to end the heinous crimes of those who imprisoned people without trial simply for being alive, to block the plots of those who seek to grab power by clandestine means, and others who attempted to commit mass murder on a global scale."
Her eyes flash with complete seriousness, there's nothing in her face or voice which suggests deceit or sarcasm. For that matter, nothing either which is a hallmark of being a madwoman. No wild eyes, no gesticulating wildly. She's not raised her voice once at any time while Nicole's been in her presence. and doesn't now. "If you see Allen Rickham, ask him to tell the story of how he and I met, what my friends and I had come across at the time. As to a statement, something will be forecoming. Mother and I should probably speak in person again first."
"But…" she relates, "a young woman of some foreshadowy talents came to me earlier and handed me a note, then wandered off without a word. It's a thing she does," Cat explains with a shake of her head. "Anyway, it said I should direct you toward someone who can lead you to your sister."
At no point did Nicole ever imply she considers Cat to be a madwoman, nor does she believe that she is. She listens passively as it seems the woman across the table from her misses the point entirely. Slowly, she takes in a deep breath through her nose, and then out again. "What is your obsession with Allen Rickham? Allen is gone Catherine. Gone. You need to move on. Focus on someone else. He can't solve all the problems in the world. Your mother wants to pick up that mantel, though."
Nicole's hands slide off the table and rest in her lap as her lips purse. "You are frustrating and extremely evasive. Are you sure you aren't a politician yourself? Because you certainly act like one." There's the sound of a small pop! when the woman uncrosses her legs and rests both feet on the floor again. "You think you're at the forefront of some sort of revolution, but do you even give a damn about the innocent people you're dragging into this? My sister is just a kid!" Nicole's chair goes skittering backward as she suddenly rises to her feet. "Your mother told me that you're a good person, and she has great faith in you, but she never dragged you into her business. How dare you drag my sister in yours? Now, you tell me where to find my sister, and I will go win this election without your help."
"Now, now, Nicole," Cat replies with unerring calm, "I didn't drag your sister into anything. She came to us. The only dragging was done by the unregistered SLC person occupying Allen's Oval Office when he stupidly chose to tell the world we and our abilities exist. If you want to blame someone, there's where it belongs. Your sister, I'll tell you, has grown quite a bit since I first met her, from the scared girl to one with confidence and strength. You should be proud, she won't just stand still and let life make her a victim."
"As to Colette's location, I don't know. I had no idea she was in need of any assistance until today. If I had, I'd have already been on top of a plan to go get her out. The note simply said I should direct you to speak with Kaylee Thatcher. I'll contact her, she'll have your number and will soon call you."
"No. You'll give me this Kaylee Thatcher's number, and I will contact her. I don't want you to have any more contact with my sister. You may not have physically dragged her into this, but you could have told her to stay safe and guided her in another direction." Nicole pulls her cell phone out and frowns. "Contact information. Now."
Anger doesn't seem to make her even flinch. Demands such as was level don't even budge the poker face. Was the panmnesiac always this way, or did she get it from facing people and things far more formidable than Nicole Nichols seems to be? Cat opts not to argue with the woman. She also isn't about to out Tamara bringing her into the fold for the Pinehearst operation. That's Colette's business. Instead she quotes a number, and drinks from her cola. "What exactly is the situation with Colette?" she asks. "I expect there will be a statement of some kind regarding my activities. Mother and I will speak soon."
Nicole punches the number into her phone, saving the new contact for Kaylee Thatcher. "Colette is no longer your concern. Unless if I have to bury her. Then, you should be very concerned." Clenching her jaw, Nicole turns on her heels and storms toward the exit. On her way out, her hand brushes against the wall, steadying herself.
Fzzzt!
The lighting around the Rock Cellar, those that were on and those that were previously off, all brighten suddenly and flicker once just before the bulbs explode, showering glass around the bar.
Nicole is watched as she departs, Cat's head tilting as she touches the wall and looses current. "Interesting," she murmurs as servers and the one bartender on duty quickly cover heads with hands against falling glass. Hands brush a few glass shards off her shoulders, and she looks around at the stunned crew members. "Power surge, that was weird. Mary, call the electrician and the supplier, have replacements brought out. Thanks."
She stands after giving those directions and heads for the back, destination the penthouse, so she can change out of the corporate lawyer monkey suit. It makes her feel like a caged Cat, wearing such garments.
On the way up her iPhone is pulled out, a number is dialed, and when the other end picks up… "Mother, we should meet. And you owe me some money for the light bulbs your assistant exploded."