It's a Question of Trust


lola_icon.gif nick_icon.gif

Scene Title It's a Question of Trust
Synopsis Building trust is a difficult thing to do, but Lola and Nick attempt to do just that while making plans to bring down the Irishman.
Date January 30, 2011

Fat Cat Billiards

Lola sent Nick a message to meet up, and she's ready to do just that. Dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt and a ball-cap, the woman is making the rounds, running some poor schlubs out of their money. I'll take off my top if I beat you at darts. 50 bucks a ball for a game of billards. AFter about an hour she gets no more takers but has enough money to have made it worth while, so she goes skipping back to the bar, counting her winnings like a little girl in a candy shop. Just…classic.

Nick enters the billiards bar quietly, taking his time at the coat rack to take in the surroundings, looking for anyone familiar aside from his contact. Weary and wary blue eyes skims the crowd — not a very large one, but large enough to provide witnesses should things go south — before deciding it seems safe.

Safe enough, anyway.

He's dressed for the chilly weather in a black tuque, gray sweater, jeans, Doc Martens. The peacoat is left at the door, though only after pulling his cigarettes and lighter from the pocket, and then he heads toward the bar, coming up behind Lola, bumping the back of her shoulder lightly before leaning on the bartop.

He glances at the decorated tap handles, and apparently not seeing what he wants, juts his chin at the tender. "Jack, neat. Make it a double. And whatever the girl wants." It's his turn to buy.

"Bud," She orders, clearly the pinnacle of class and taste. She settles in beside Nick and smiles playfully. "Well hey thar darlin, ainchu lookin' fine." She says, nudging the man with her shoulder. "Everythin' been goin' well fer ya?" She asks, though with her playful manner of doing anything and everything it's difficult to tell if she's reallly interested or just converting oxygen into c02.

"Well enough," Nick says lightly, pulling a bill from his wallet to lay on the counter as the tender makes their drinks, pushing the beer in front of Lola first before pouring Nick's whiskey and sliding it in front of the young man. "Be better if I knew where our favorite mickey was, I admit. Makes me nervous not knowin'."

He picks up the glass, taking a swallow, before setting it down again and pulling a cigarette from the pack curled in his hand. He offers her the pack as he lights up.

"We'll know soon enough," Lola promises. "He has few enough friends, two that can really be counted. Ah'm considered one of 'em, an his other an himself is sworned ta get in touch with me. Though if he's already dead, all our troubles are over anyhow." Lola tilts her beer, looking over Nick for a moment. "So there's a fence an another girl who have come lookin' after our Mick - want to find him and maybe more. They want revenge but seem pretty green as to how they want it."

Nick's eyes narrow as he surveys her face. "Yeah? Who's this other friend? 'Cause you being considered one of his 'true friends' when you didn't know shit about him when you'n I first met doesn't really give me a lot of confidence in his faith in you. I worked for him for quite a while and he never let me into the inner fold, so what's so special about you?" He takes a long drag from the cigarette, before blowing it up at the ceiling.

"Aside from the fact you have tits and I don't. That's always a selling point of course."

"It is, though you should have seen his buddies' faces when I told him to stop lookin'" Lola drawls, removing a cigarette and lighting one up. She slides the pakc and lighter to Nick if he so wants them. "Myself and one other were the ones who helped him get away from the FBI on Staten. Trust me, I did it for my health, not his. There was no way out of that situation. But - according ot him anyway - it endeared me to him and I'm to expect to hear from him shortly. For my next assignment or…whatever."

Reaching to dash his cigarette on an ash tray before taking another long drag, Nick nods, eyes flitting between her face and the door. "Just realize that may not mean any sense of loyalty on his end. I know you're not looking for his loyalty, seein' as you're working with me, but you might find he's as apt to play you as the other way around, yeah?"

The cigarette is set down in exchange for the whiskey, and he tosses the rest of it back in one swallow before setting the empty soldier down on the bar. "So who's this other friend of his?"

"Ah dun expect loyalty, sugar," Lola drawls. "Ah expect him ta be in a desperate way, which we all know he is. An Ah expect him ta remember that when he was in a real deperate way, was me that risked mah neck fer him. As fer his friend, no idea who he was but he swore he'd be in touch as well." She looks across at Nick. "Unless ya had a better way ta find him, sugar."

"The more people in this, the more nervous I am," Nick says, picking up the cigarette again, and pointing it at her. "You, I know you have business reasons for being in it. Me, you know why I'm in it. This other guy? He's gonna be in touch with you, to help us, even though he's one of the prick's two friends he thinks he can count on? Tell me what you know about him. If you don't gotta name, what do you know? How d'you know we can trust him? Let alone these two green people that are suddenly in on this."

The cigarette is tossed back into the tray. "I mean, I don't fuckin' care as long as he gets his, but the more people involved, the more you have to worry about splittin' profits."

"Relax," Lola says, shaking her head. "This other fellah ain' the one that asked me for help in findin' him. He just is. No, a lady fencer named Lex or something and her little sidekick Lucille - who is as wet behind the ears as I was at five - are looking to get their own peice of revenge on the man. I didn't give them anything just yet because I felt the same way you do. Too many cooks in the kitchen means Ah might get shot." Or something like that. "They came ta me cause the one Lucille heard about me as bein' some sorta 'badass' around the neighborhood." That makes Lola snort a chuckle.

Heaving a sigh, Nick shakes his head. "Little girls playing revenge. Just what I fuckin' need," is muttered before he picks up the pack of cigarettes to toy with in his hands. "So what are you proposing? Mickey gets in touch with you for the next job — great. You let me know, and I can show up to help take him out. I got some people who can help too, and they aren't little girls playing cops and robbers, but people with fuckin' experience in this. Fence might be okay, but the green chick, what's she bringin' to the party?"

"Money," Lola says. "Though that ain' somethin' any of us really need fer this venture. Anyway, what about yer folks then, darlin? Share an share alike, right? Just good ta have some names an souls ta put ta my mind, knowin' who might happen ta be standin' behind me with a gun an all. Who are they an why do they care?"

"You ain't willing to tell me your real name, I'm not at liberty to give you my contacts', Daisy, Dixie, Dandelion, whatever your name is," Nick says gruffly. "You got mine, Nick York, and I can show you ID to back it up, if you need it. If that ain't good enough for you, that an' my word, well, it's been nice doin' business with you."

"Ah got ID too," Lola points out. "Ya provided it fer me. And there's a damned good reason Ah don' use mah real name, not even with you. Ah don' give a shit bout yer name, an you oughtn' bout mine. As far as this goes, we go open in this plan or we don' go at all. Ah'm happy ta work with ya instead a shootin' ya - which if Ah really were suckin' Micky's balls woulda been what Ah done - but there's some folks round that don' like me, an Ah ain' lookin' ta have one a them turn up behind me with a loaded gun. Ah been forward answerin' all Ah know 'bout this fellah we're huntin, the least ya kin do is answer in kind."

"Tell you what," Nick says, "if we get him in jail, I'll give your people half the bounty, and my people half the bounty. You wanted his business, I just want him ass-raped in prison. Sound fair? If names don't matter, then they don't matter." He reaches to crush out his smoldering cigarette. "I trust you enough. Don't got much choice in the matter, I guess."

"You trust me 'nuff because Ah've made a choice that could have tried ta screw ya or help ya. Ah chose ta help ya whereas if he finds out, it's mah ass in a sling. Ya ain' made no such overtures toward me. Ya ain' done nothin' to make yer word worth shit ta me." Lola points out, gestureing toward Nick with her beer bottle. "Now, if ya don' wanna name names, fine. But give me somethin'. Who they work for an why they care 'bout this guy. Somethin', sugar. Yer askin' a hell of a lot without offerin' anything back but money ya know Ah don' want."

After putting out his cigarette, Nick glances down at the cigarette burn on his hand, courtesy of Ethan. It matches a few left there by Sophia. He swallows. "Family." The word is terse, reluctant. "That enough?" It's the truth, in an odd way — he knows Eileen doesn't trust Walsh, and he knows Ethan is willing to help. They have a family bond, even if he and Holden aren't blood.

Lola rolls her eyes. "Fer now," she admits. "Though if it comes time ta shots bein fired, don' get all prickly if Ah got a few more questions." Lola snuffs her own cigarette out in a moment, then chuckles. "S'weird ta think about though. Ah ain' spoken ta mah family in over a year - they still think Ah'm dead. Even if they didn', mah daddy's a thief an mah brother's a priest. Don' ever imagin' havin' the sort of family ta get involved in this shit."

Nick gives a short huff of a laugh. "Yeah, no shit. I didn't think I had any family any more, myself, but it sneaks up on ya." He steps down from the bar stool. "Get in touch when you know somethin', and I'll get me and mine there, yeah? I'd rather not deal with people who ain't professionals, but I'll bow to your discretion in the matter. If you think they have the goods, then I'll trust you."

He doesn't have a lot of choice in the matter, the way he sees it.

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