Whole Lotta Crazy


kain_icon.gif lola_icon.gif

Scene Title Whole Lotta Crazy
Synopsis Lola shows up at Kain's place very early to talk to him about her new assignment and the people she'll be spending time with - they end up having a quasi heart-to-heart before Lola gets thrown out on her ass.
Date September 13, 2009

Kain's apartment

For a man who spends most of his time awake during the late night hours idiling away his time in the dark and smoky corners of the nightclub Rapture, the idea of "come by my place early" has different meanings for Kain Zarek. It's meanings like this that are wholly lost ont he woman he invited up to the penthouse of Dorchester Towers — one he expected to show up around, say, noon. Because to Kain Zarek, noon is early.

But that long ride up the penthouse elevator brings Lola Mayeux up to the 35th floor of the Linderman Group owned tenement building just after nine in the morning. The soft hiss of the doors opening out to a well lit and white-painted hallway come with no other noises. A frosted glass wall with double doors marks the entrance to Zarek's building-top retreat, and an intercom system built into the wall near the glass doors serves as a way for visitors to announce themselves before coming in.

Given the lack of any sounds on the other side of that semi-opaque wall, he might just not be expecting her.

It's not that Lola wasn't up and around at that time of day. Or that she didn't know the meaning of 'early'. Early for her is anything between 5 a.m and 4 a.m. She sleeps at random times. Instead, in this case, she was just busy. Busy with Monroe, busy with jumping back and forth between the main island and Staten, and otherwise just staying on her toes.

But now she's here, in a tank top over a t-shirt on top of some shorts. And she's pressing that intercom like crazy and yelling through the door.


"Hey! Yankee boy!"

The reaction isn't immediate, in fact the reaction isn't really even evident until shouting comes from across the apartment, muffled only slightly by the glass wall. It's incoherant shouting, at least, followed by the thundering slap of footsteps that draws closer and closer, then finally a murky silhouette of a man approaching those somewhat transparent doors, three beeps, a click, and one side of the double doors swinging out into the hall, followed by the tangled hair, grizzled stubble and wide-eyed face of Kain Zarek clearly shouting, "What!?"

Barefoot, Kain looks like he only hastily donned clothing to answer the door, jeans unzipped shirt unbottoned hair in a mess and his eyes not quite focused to the waking world yet. Once he sees Lola standing there, his lips press together, brows furrow and a snorted breath comes out sharply. "You— " he bites down on his words, "Ah' tol' you t'come by early not th' goddamn' ass crack a'dawn!" Which of course, nine in the morning is not, but this is Zarek-Time he's keeping things tracked on.

Laying a baleful stare towards Lola with furrowed brows, Kain draws in a sharp breath and just walks away from the door, leaving it open. "Swear t'god you're as bad as Damaris," he mutters, running both hands thorugh his hair as he thumps-clunks with heavy footfalls inside, leaving the invitation ot come in — while not exactly welcoming — there.

Lola turns and follows him inside, letting the door close with a solid sound behind her. "I got no idea what 'Damaris' means but I'll take it as, "Yer beautiful, Lola darlin, an smart an talented.'" Which she's sure will only incite him more, but she still smiles through it.

"Aw, come on, Kain darlin. Aincha happy to see me? It's like yer dreams from last night come to reality." She reaches over to pat his back as she follows him in, taking a look around. What can she lift….

"Though ya might want ta button up, flashin's a federal offense, way I hear tell of it."

Halting halfway into the penthouse, Kain lingers by the island dividing the spacious open-concept living room from the kitchen, his head turning to look over his shoulder. "Damaris was the last sassy-mouhted woman workin' for Danny that Ah' had t'deal with." There's no real context given, regardless, and Kain seems to clearly be one of those grumpy wakers, kind of like a bear in the way he lumbers about and makes his way around the island and into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door, bottles and cartons clinking and clunking around as he fishes for something.

"What'd you wanna' know about Christina?" He says into the refrigerator, because that's the only reason Lola's here, and he figures the sooner he dumps information about her off on Lola the sooner she's out of his hair.

"Danny is it now? We've gratuated from Mistah Daniel to Danny is it?" She can't help but chuckle, clamboring up onto a bar stool at the island and sitting comfortably, elbows on the table, cheeks in her hands as she looks mischeviously to Kain. "Maybe it weren' a puppy Mistah Danny needed at all. Never thought you fer swingin' that way, an so old! Even so…it was funny, weren' it? When I asked him? His face?" Her eyes are gleaming with pleasure at the thought.

But she's willing to get down to business. "Well ya were tryin' ta warn me about her at brunch, an I didn' see it right ta pry in front a Danny bout one a his employees. But if she's gonna be my…watchamacallit, handler thingie, I might wanna know if she's off the deep end, sort that thinks the walls are talkin' or whatever it was ya were tryin' ta warn me about."

Jerking up out of the refrigerator with a carton of orange juice held in one hand, Kain's expression has gone sharply from frustrated to not amused at all, "Can you for just one damn moment take somethin' seriously!?" He slams the carton down on the counter with a slosh and slaps the fridge closed with a kick of his heel. Staring at Lola, Kain's lips press tightly together, nostrils flare and his shoulders heave with a deep breath. "She's out've her goddamned mind."

One hand winds up, fingers raking thorugh Kain's hair as he relaxes, resting his hip against the counter and face in his hand. "Maybe you an' Mad Jack'll get along with her just fine, but Christina only cares'bout one damn thing an' that's her. She's a self-centered egotistical son've a bitch who'll just as soon shoot you in'na back if that's what Danny wants." Dark brows crease together, and Kain shakes his head, wandering away from the island towards a rack of bottles, pulling out a clear vodka bottle that he swirls around in one hand.

"She's a me-first kinda' girl, an' ain't got a single moral fiber in'er whole damn body." The cap is unscrewed, a glass taken, and a quarter of the glass filled with the clear alcohol before the bottle's set back down. "Plus she's invincible."
Lola reaches over, taking the bottle and tapping the table for a glass as well if he'll give her one. If not, she's not above hitting off the bottle.

"Sugar, relax" Lola murmers, a bit more serious than he's heard her before. The man does need to calm down. "If I weren' takin' it seriously I wouldn't be here. Mortimer Jack's another concern. He's sweet in his own way but he's…." Crazy. "Between him threatenin' ta kill anyone what touches me, Monroe wantin' to do nothin but touch me, I do need ta know where my biggest concerns are with this Christina gallie. Now, whatcha mean she's invincible?"

Rolling his tongue over the inside of his cheek, Kain exhales a snorted sigh and slides the bottle towards Lola solely, then takes the carton of orange juice and pops the top open, filling his glass the rest of the way to make himself a nice morning screwdriver. "Dunno personally, but Ah've heard stories that she can stop bullets jus' by lookin' funny at 'em. One've the boys Ah' worked with a few months ago says she stopped a speedin' car just by holdin' out her hand; crumpled it like a tin can…"

Picking up his glass, Kain rolls it around to mix the contents just a little more before
taking a long swig. Kain's quiet as he regards his glass with a distant stare, eyes lifting up towards Lola quietly. "This job eats through people," Kain notes quietly, "Ah' seen so many girls like you come thorugh 'ere, an' they ain't never come out've it the same. Damaris, Sanders, Hoffman… it changes people, what you gotta' do."

Lola Mayeux reaches over, plucking up a glass of her own. She pours an equal amount of vodka into hers, then takes the orange juice and does something similar to what Kain did. Before answering, she sips her drink thoughtfully. When she does answer, both hands are wrapped around the glass and she's looking at it - a sign of slight discomfort, a sign that things are being revealed.

"Ya ever been ta prison?" She asks him, nodding her head to herself and finally looking up at him. "I have, an I'd still be there if it weren' fer Mistah Danny. I don' wanna go back, an I feel fairly sure that's where I'd go if I did switch teams like Monroe wants. So I'll work for 'im an all, but I sure as shit ain' gonna die over it, nothin' like that." she sips again, and looks curiously at Kain.

"What's it done to you, this job?"

Before he even considers that question, Kain drains the last of his drink and sets the glass down on the countertop. Brows creased, he keeps his fingers perched around the mouth of the glass, eyes distantly focused. "Ah' ain't never been t'prison, always knew who t'stand behind t'keep mah ass safe, always knew when t'run when th'running was good. S'how Ah' got mahself out've N'Orleans, how Ah' got tangled up with Danny. He— " Kain's brows crease, "Danny saved mah life. Ah' should be dead, been livin' on borrowed time for almos' three years gone now…"

Blue eyes alight towards Lola, less frustrated than before, but just as troubled. "Ah've done things fer Danny that Ah' ain't never done for nobody." There's no pride in that, just his teeth clenched, "That ol' snake that Ah' shot in N'Orleans… that was the first personal piece'a work Ah've ever done, first time Ah' ever killed somebody because they done gone and deserved it."

Lola still has the glass in her hand, and she reaches over, pouring him another shot of vodka for him to decorate with orange juice, should he feel the need. "See that, I didn' understand. James Ford, ta my knoweledge, was just some street nobody. I think my daddy beat him up once in like 1997 fer hittin' on my momma. S'all I really know about him. What's he done that was so bad?" Granted, she can't judge, since she shot a man in the head last week for being a bad, bad man. But she's curious. And maybe she can help him tell about it.

"If it makes ya feel better I shot a serial killer in the head last week," and okay, maybe it's just a litttttle bragging. Because it's still an awesome concept.

What did James Ford do to Kain Zarek? It's a question he doesn't answer immediately, instead lets his eyes linger on that empty glass before breathing out a strained sigh. "He was mah daddy," Kain states with that rough-cut southern charm not quite managing to sweeten the words of patricide in any way, "he had it comin'." Or so the chorus line of the musical Chicago would lead anyone to believe.

Wandering away from the island, Kain moves past Lola and towards the living room, picking up a remote control from a table on the way. One button click turns the slatted blinds fromc losed to open, letitng more clear sunlight spill in and the jagged, broken view of the shattered skyline of New York come into focus. A long time ago, this might have been a beautiful view of the city, now it's a somber view of a tomb.

"Anythin' else you wanna' know 'bout ol Tina?" Kain asks quietly, gaze distant and focused out at the buildings beyond the windows of his little slice of the city.

Tracy turns around in her chair, watching him. He shot his daddy? Okay maybe he wins on the whole 'who have you shot in the head recently' competition. "Lotsa daddys do, I'm sure." She says, finishing her drink and setting the empty on the island for him to clean up later.

She pushes off the stool and follows him a few steps. "Naw," she finally answers his question. "But I do wanna ask ya bout Monroe, an why he's got so many panties in a twist. They're basically gonna be sendin' me close-quarters with the fellah, an ya'll seem scared outta yer skin a him. Since I wanna keep mine…" the rest goes unsaid.

"Ah don' know jack or shit about this Monroe guy, 'cept that he's got it out for
Danny." Kain folds his arms, shifting his weight ot one foot before looking over his shoulder to Lola, stringy locks of dirty blonde hair obscuring one of his eyes. "You weren't 'round when it went down, but Danny's lil' girl died a few months back… sweet kid, name was Zoe. She worked down in th' archives." Swallowing tensely, Kain's focus turns back to the window and his muted reflection in it.

"He killed Zoe, killed 'er right in cold blood as a message t'Danny, an' now… well family's blood." There's a tension in Kain's neck, shoulders rolling forward. "Ah' don't hink you need me t'explain any more 'bout that. As fer who he is, Ah' ain't got no clue who Monroe is or how Danny pissed 'em off so much… but e'did."

That's not good, that's really not good. Lola may have dropped out of school, but she's not stupid. A man will sacrifice a lot in order to get revenge for his daughter. Even if it means sacrificing a nobody like Lola Mayeux, who's got no one and nobody to watch out for her in case that happens.

"Just one last question, then ya kin get all kinds of 9 a.m. drunk," she doesn't sound judgemental. "'Tween Monroe, Christina an Mortimer Jack, if shit goes downhill I ain' got nowhere to go that ain' a whole lotta crazy. Can I come here? If it gets bad fer me? Ain' askin ya ta hide me or nothin but…perhaps facilitate the runnin' away or whatever the case may be." She watches him, curious for his reaction to her request. "Think a yerself like the underground railroad. I'm Harriet Tubman with great cans."

Turning around with one brow raised, Kain lifts his chin and looks at Lola askance for a moment. "S, if a bunch'a gun-totin' lunatics come runnin' out've the woodwork for ya, you wanna' run 'em to my place?" There's a snort from Kain and a shake of his head. He turns around, walking back towards the island, but instead of grabbing himself a drink, he fetches a notepad and nears off a sheet of paper, scribbling out a phone number with a pen and then slides it across the island towards her.

"You get in deep shit, you call that number. Goes to a girl Ah' call Barbie. Ah' ain't got her real name, an Ah' don' care to. Phone used'ta belong to a fella' named Cameron who did some work for me, bought some guns. Barbie's in charge've 'em now, an' she's done got herself a whole munitions depot full've guns n' bullets. So you get trouble," he wags a finger in the air, "you call her. Not me."

Lola snatches the phone number from him, looking down at the paper. She'll commit that to memory soon enough. "So when the Princess's got problems ya push her to a barbie." Lola chuckles, winking at Kain. "Never let 'em say that the Southern Gentleman is dead. Cause then, I will point 'em right at your door.

"Thanks fer the number though." She seems to be preparing to go, the way her stance is shifting.

For a while all Kain can have to offer is silence, silence and the furrowing of his brows that indicates he's being thoughtful about something, considerate about what to offer to her in her retreat out of his penthouse. Maybe he isn't being a gentleman, maybe chivalry is dead. The notion makes him pause as he watches Lola get up to leave. Kain's eyes close partway, and while it seems like he might offer something to her, a piece of advice, a scrap of wisdom, all he can say to her retreating figure is; "Yer ass looks good in those shorts."

Well, it's something.

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