Participants:
| Scene Title | The Cajun Finger Snap |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Amadeus almost gets his finger broken while trying to pick a thief's pocket, and soon the grifter is grifted. |
| Date | August 21 2010 |
Swipe swipe swipe! And no one to tell him 'no swiping'. Amadeus has been grabbing little things he finds interesting, or thinks would be good gifts. But he's starting to get hungry, so when he spots a nice looking Cajun woman, he decides to bump against her, suddenly finding his hand in her pocket. He's got a black MLB bat bag on his back, though he certainly doesn't look like a baseball player.
Lola was actually here working a fence. Wherever she's been for the past few weeks, she came back a little more loaded than one might expect from a normal business trip. One falls back on old habbits when one is grieving, so that's what she's blaming it on. What she's offering to the short, old Chinaman is something real - a bag with a pair of shoes in it. The bag itself is real, and so are the shoes within it. He nods, seeming interested.
But she is still a professional thief, in her jean cuttoff shorts, her fedora and spagetti strap tank with that same old light, loose, wavy open sweater over the whole thing. So when she feels a hand in her pocket, her instincts kick in and she brings a hand down, cracking on the pickpocket's finger and bending it back - possibly to sprain or break. Her head whirls around and she looks, eyes of hate. Only a professional would have felt that.
"Fuck fuck fuck…" Amadeus quickly reaches up to grab her wrist, trying to move with her bending to try and avoid, well, losing his finger. "I'm sorry alright? Just let go! Jesus fuckin' Christ, what kinda chick has a grip like that?" he asks, eyes squinting in pain, biting his bottom lip.
"What kinda fellah puts his hand in a girl's pocket with his index finger at an angle? really sugar, ya oughta know better." She releases his hand, nodding to the Chinese man. He takes the bag, hands Lola a manilla envelope (which is quickly tucked away somepalce under the sweater) and heads off. "Ye'll know better now though, woncha? Hah!"
"Fuck." Amadeus rubs his finger, though he starts following her. He's intrigued now. "Wait, what's your name? I never had anyone just fuckin' know I was pickin' their pocket." He's a little impressed, so he has to know if he's just met Carmen SanDiego or something. "I'm Amadeus Deckard!"
"Deckard? Ah think Ah shot a Deckard once. Or maybe he shot me. Can' hardly remember no more." Lola shrughs, slips her shades back on and starts walking, letting Amadeus follow her. "S'cauze ya apparently never picked nobody what's better'n you." She's probably not better, but she's milking it for all it's worth. "Leastways, whatever's left a yer finger says Ah'm better'n you."
"Wouldn't be surprised if it's my deadbeat dad, but at least for once the hot redhead's shooting 'im instead of trying to pounce on 'im. He fuckin' gets around." Amadeus catches up, still watching his finger as he tries to wiggle it a bit. "So, what, you some kinda master thief or somethin'? That's pretty fuckin' hardcore, like Carmen SanDiego or some shit."
"Ah'm sure Ah dunno what yer talkin' bout, thievin." Lola decides. "Ah just ment Ah was good at catchin thieves, ain' never been one myself." Suddenly, an oppotunity has arisen. "One thing mah lousy ex-husband was good at, sides smackin' me up. Finally had ta catch on ta him pickin' bills outta my jeans or Ah'd never ah got ta away." She keeps walking though, letting him follow as she pushes through the crowd.
"You got some guy tryin' to smack you up?" Amadeus asks, just in case this ex husband thing is recent, starting to walk next to her now as he straightens his black AC/DC shirt. "Want me to take a bat to his fingers? I don't like woman beaters, I don't care how much money they've got."
Lola laughs, turning to face the man. She can be flirty, in that free-form kind of way. Very easy-going, very free-spirited. "Well he ain' got much money no more. Left him with a FEMA trailer down'n Mississippi. Wheover 'tis he's beatin' round now, it ain' me an he ain' got a pair a shorts ta shit in while doin' it. I ain' no thief, sugar, but Ah got a good eye."
"You're like a goddamned movie character, in a good way. Like fuckin' Thelma & Louise or some shit." Amadeus pulls a brown wallet from his pocket, going through the bills. It's clearly not his, considering an ID of a Chinese man who is very much not him behind plastic. "Can I buy you a drink? They've got those crazy Chinese sake things around here."
Lola smiles. This grifting thing is easier than she once thought it was, back when she was playing Adam. Then agian, she's fairly certain that this guy isn't armed - and she is. "Shit, no," she answers. "Ya kin buy me a bud light though, Ah ain' the sort a girl ta go drinkin' that fancy ol' shit."
"That just means you're my kinda girl. I'll get a bottle of Jack and I'm cool. Mister X… uh…" Amadeus keeps walking, but turns the wallet to show her the ID. "How the fuck do you say a name that starts with an X?" he asks, tapping it with his finger. He's entirely clueless. Lola could possibly be the smarter of the two.
"Just use the first name - it all sounds like silverware fallin' on the floor anyway. Ping-Pang-Pong." She starts following him now, thinking as she goes. "So is that the best ya got then, slidin' yer hands down a girl's pockets? Ah'm pretty certain there's a couple a frat-boys what can do the same thing."
"I'm pretty fuckin' connected. I don't let any boss get me under his thumb, but I do a little somethin' for whoever can pay. I usually know what's goin' on with most of the criminal types in the city, but I don't get dragged down with 'em. I'm still a bit fucked right now though." Amadeus slips the wallet back into his pocket, heading through the market until he finds an actual shop that sells liquor, and swings the door open hard enough so it'll take a while to close. That's the best he can do as far as holding the door for a woman. "I do whatever. Grow pot, collect debts, that kinda shit. Jack of all trades, but no paid murder, I don't wanna go to jail for that kinda heavy shit. Already did three years for possession."
"No heavy shit?" Lola asks, wrinkling her nose as she walks behind him. Well that's no fun. But none the less, she may be able to work something with him after all. She follows still. "An who would ya say yer biggest name employer is? Anybody Ah'd have heard of on the telly? Ah knew a few folks down south, but since Ah came ta the big 'ol city Ah'm mostly on mah own." Yes, she's pretty and vulnurable. No man to protect her. Sad!
"Wouldn't say no heavy shit. If someone can't pay a debt, I usually have to take a finger if I'm getting paid by a Triad group, or break knees if it's anyone else. I've worked for most of the big guys at some point, but I was never really in with them, I like to be a, uh, neutral party." Amadeus immediately grabs a bottle of Bud Lite, and a bottle of Jack Daniels, bringing them up to the counter. "Linderman's the biggest guy I ever did anything for, but I never met ol' White Beard myself, just people who work for 'im. I've only been out of jail for a few months, so I haven't done anything for a big guy in a while, I'm just debt collecting for some Triad dudes to make a buck, I'm still sleeping in my van."
"Mistah Daniel Linderman?" Lola asks, laughing. "Why everybody knows him! Ah can' magine he's inta anything illegal. Ah've seen him on television - he seems like a real sweet old man - like my grandpappy. He can' a had nothin' ta do with nothin' bad, Ah just don't believe it." Of course, the mention of Linderman makes Lola want to run, but she doesn't. Perhaps she can get some insight into what he's into!
"All the big bosses got legit cover shit goin' on, but I ain't too worried about Linderman. Eventually someone bigger'll come along, always happens, I've been doing this shit since I was a teenager." Amadeus truly doesn't seem to have any loyalties, he just gets around. He grabs the money from the wallet in his pocket, just giving the guy a twenty, then offers Lola her brown paper bag as he carries his out. "And you don't gotta be on your own. I mean, I live in a fuckin' van, but if you need help or some shit, you can give me a call."
Lola wants to bite him. DAmn, why didn't he spill about Linderman? She's cute! Maybe she needs more grifting experience than she thought. "Thank ya darlin'," Lola says with a wink, taking the bag and turning to head out. "Well, even though ya say it, Ah believe Mistah Daniel Linderman's on the up-an-up. No fellah like that could do bad, no sir. Ah ain' gonna believe it till Ah see it."
"Linderman's like, bigger than the fuckin' Godfather, not a guy you underestimate. He'd have you dumped in a river if he even thought you were fuckin' with 'im. I just stay out of his way unless he's payin' good, but that's harder these days, he's got his hands in fuckin' everything, even some of the Triad shit." Amadeus walks down the market a bit more, until they're out into a larger street, and he's looking around for something. "I need to figure out where I'm sleepin' tonight, no fuckin' way I feel like staying in that van again."
Lola opesn teh beer in the bag, and swigs out of it just like a regular old redneck. "Well Ah'm fairly certain Ah kin set ya up with somethin' fer a night, if ya need, sugar. Ain' forever, but a night's a night, hmm? But in return, Ah'ma want something." She swigs again with a smirk as they bush through the area.
"Somethin', eh?" Amadeus can't help but get a little confident grin, opening his bottle in the bag as well to take a swig of his whiskey. "What might be be wantin' me to do? I don't have a lot goin' on, so I'm all ears."
"Well Ah done toldja Ah got a good eye. If yer the real deal, next time ya got somethin' big with a little ta share, Ah kin help." She gets a little big-eyed about this, trying to look kind of rookie. The booze helps that. "Ah mean, if Mistah Linderman ain' so sweet as he seems on the television, Ah don' want him knowin' nothin' bout me, ever, but Ah kin help you. Ah kin work fer you."
Amadeus takes the bait like a cat to a salmon, placing a hand on her shoulder like a mentor to a student, his grin not-so-altruistic. "Sure thing, I'm sure you can help me out, and I won't even let Linderman get near you. You've just gotta make sure you do what I say, and I'll teach you everything I know." His hand slides down her arm for a few seconds too long, then he pulls it away and takes another swig. "My van's on the next block, I can drive you home."
"Well, alright sugar. But hows about we drive somewhere else? Ah done toldja Ah got some place fer ya t'be stayin'. Fer only one night, a course, but it's somethin' ya might find useful." She smirks a little, downing her bottle and giggling as he touches her. Her skin crawls, but she giggles all the same.
Amadeus stops at an old dark blue van, screwing the top on to his whiskey as he slips into the driver's seat and slams the door shut. "Get in. So, where we goin'? A Cajun chick like you know anything about places to go in New York, or am I gonna have to guide you?"
Lola laughs. "Ah done told ya, sugar, Ah'm from Mississippi. Kin sound pretty similar, as the Bayou spreads through more'n just state lines." She sits in the van, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a housekey. She gives him an address. Simple enough, in a normal, middle-class area (even for city). "Ah know where mah old apartment is. Paid up for a day or two more afore the new tennant comes in, but all their stuff's been shipped from California"
"You said stuff about FEMA, so I just thought Mississippi might be somewhere in New Orleans." Amadeus takes the key and address as he slips them into his pocket, then places his hands on the wheel. "And here I thought I was staying with you tonight."
"Last fellah with hands in his pockets smacked me upside the head with an empty bottle - no thanks, sugar. Ah ain' in the manner a takin' strangers home. An the hurricanes hit more'n just Nawlins. Hit quite a lot a places in that area, but since they ain' big ol cities nobody gave a damn. Not even FEMA, really." She smirks a little. "Ya kin drop me off at the next subway station. An here." she slips a little peice of paper into his pocket while he drives. "Mah number."
"Point taken." Amadeus drives with one hand as he slips a hand into his pocket, then sits a joint on her thigh. "That's for you, don't stress." he offers as simple instructions, then off they go to the subway station.