[right][sub]__________ π™ΏπšŽπšŠπš›πš• πš‚πšŠπšŒπš”πšŸπš’πš•πš•πšŽ πš‚πš˜πš’πš›Γ©πšŽ π™΅πš›πšŠπš—πš”πš•πš’πš— πš‚πš π™Όπš’πš—πš—πšŽπš—πš˜πš˜πš—πšŠ, πš†π™Έ __________[/sub] [/right] Pearl rarely ventured beyond the SoirΓ©e walls. What could possibly entice her outside when she had everything she needed within the same 4 walls, in arms reach? In the whore house, she was Pearly Sackville. Beyond? She was a slight, weathered woman in an immodest gown and a cloak of liquor. Something shifted within her as soon as her heels clinked against the Minnenoona pavement. The winds that kicked up various litter and stray plastic bags, pluming in their abandonment and twirling around ankles, made her eyes sting and well with salten tears. Even the yellowed streetlights overhead, shrouded in winter mist against the last of the daylight, were enough to make her dip her head. It made her miss the shelter within the shadows of SoirΓ©e. Made her crave the cool marble of the bartop against her underarms. But the whorehouse had been invaded by a parasite Pearl felt naked for. An intruder had infiltrated the castle walls she'd built for herself; Her moat too shallow, battlements too weak, merlons lowered. Pearl's palace had been tarnished by a sonless Father before it had even turned from morning to afternoon. She imagined the feeling that clung to her bones could be likened to the victim of a house burglar. A violation of your sanctuary. Your home. Once someone has made it very clear how easy it is for them to reach past the shattered glass of your window pane and unlock your front door, once they've skulked through your photo-framed hallways and dug through your drawers, suddenly home doesn't feel like home anymore. Suddenly the brickwork is made of sand and with every ebb and flow of the tide, it all crumbles away until there's nothing left but a mound of something that for a long time you called yours. Yet in this case, nothing but safety had been stolen from her. Tony had left SoirΓ©e just as he'd arrived; Enraged and vengeful. But he'd left Pearly different. Humbled. Scared. She no longer felt invincible as she glided through her hallways in her slitted gown and her bouncing pin curls. She could still smell the cigarette smoke on Tony's fingers as they'd curled around her neck. If someone were to dust her heart for fingerprints, they'd find the swirling stains of fear left behind by that blackened stare. His pupils had diluted before her like squid ink, cold as the Minnenoona winters. And once he'd left? The coke and the bourbon didn't amplify her confidence nor race along with her heartbeat. The drum in her chest was off-beat and jagged. In fact, the drugs and the alcohol were bare-knuckle fighting within her, dialling up the volume of every paranoid stream of consciousness that pierced through her mind with each punch into the next. So without debating why, Pearl succumbed to her sudden urge to leave SoirΓ©e. Equipped with her trusty Smith & Wesson sleeping peacefully in her crushed velvet clutch, Pearl fled her home with shallow breaths and a throat shrunk small as a sipper straw. The smell of wet asphalt assaulted her nostrils, the threat of rain sat fat in the swelling grey clouds that rolled lazily overhead. The Madam tucked her black trench coat tighter around her slight frame, pulling the belt at her waist to cinch the material tighter still. Greet Street was littered with the lives of people so different to her; Working professionals returning home, hung and haggard by a hard days work. A woman pushing a screaming stroller with a wayward wheel and too many nights of too little sleep darkening her under-eyes. Teenagers laughed as they kicked a flaking, wet football to one another, the sound of their scuffing trainers echoing down the street. Eyes barely lingered on Pearl as she took slow, uncertain steps down Greet Street. The thread of SoirΓ©e became more and more taught with every step she took away from it but with every click of her heel, Tony's breath on her face was further and further in the rearview. Squinting, she raised her aquamarine blues to the sky and heard her Mother's unmistakeable rasp in her right ear. [quote] [i]"Pearly Girl. This is what happens when you turn a blind eye to disobedience,"[/i] Moira's words, hissed between clenched teeth, felt as real as the cool Minnenoona air in her lungs. [i]"What have I told you about these girls? Have I taught you nothing? Have you learned nothing? Letting that whore get away from you was the very same weakness that let that gangster into your home. If you'd have handled your business like I taught you, he'd have never gotten his rotten hands on you. Do you see that? Do you see that the same fair hand that struck a girl for being too pretty is the same one that shied away from dealing consequence? Is this how you run shit? For God's sake, Pearl, it's no wonder we're here. This is how my legacy lives on? Well? Now you must face the repercussions of your lack of actions, little Pearl."[/i] [/quote] A speeding car, wheels splitting a roadside puddle, spattered murky water across Pearl's coat. She barely flinched. Instead, she begged with her Mother for a solution. A plan. A slither of wisdom that might suggest how she could escape from beneath the thumb of Tony Genovese. But there was nothing. Just static. So on she walked. Until dusk became dark. Until her heels stung and throbbed with every step. Until the streets became flea-bitten with the late dwellers of Minnenoona. A neon sign ahead beckoned to her, finger coiling with "come hither", tantalising and beaconing against the night sky. Pearl Sackville ducked inside, inhaling the familiar smell of booze-soaked carpets and stale smoke. The bustling dive bar should've made her recoil. The sound of raucous laughter and clinking glassware should've made her turn on her heels and hail a cab back to SoirΓ©e. Yet though this dinginess wasn't one she called her own, it still comforted her. A scene that was a stranger to her but had the familiarity of home without the complications. Tony Genovese wouldn't emerge from behind the beer-smeared slotties and there wasn't a soul in here that would recognise her face. In this bar, she was a no one. Here, she really could hide in the shadows. The bartender wouldn't know her drink. The drunkards sat at the bar wouldn't gawp at the Matron of the house. Instead, conversations continued to bloom around her and Pearl slid onto a vacant bar stool with pursed lips and stiffened joints. Her feet gasped with relief as she took her weight off of them, poising them on the footbar and wriggling her toes stuffed in the pointed ends of her heels. She scanned the length of the bar in search of a staff member, fingers fumbling with the clasp of her clutch to pluck a few crisp bills from inside. That's when a laugh her heart recognised reverberated within her ribs. Her neck snapped to peer around the bulking back of the man next to her, eyes searching frantically for the face she knew she'd recall. As if fate had placed him there, Sandy Collington jeered with a drunken fool whilst popping the cap of a bottled beer, completely ignorant to the new arrival who stared at him wide-eyed down the bar. His hair, longer than it was all those years ago, was peppered with silver and thinning like smoke. He wore it tucked behind his ears, unwashed. That silver cap on his tooth still glinted with every wide-mouthed laugh that ripped from him. Sandy's torso had gotten fluffy with extra weight and he moved with a lumber that lacked the grace of his quick steps all those years before. Sensing Pearl's eyes on him, Sandy turned expectantly to serve his next customer. She watched in slow motion as recognition bled across his features, the hangover of his laugh evaporating from lips she'd memorised as a lonely girl in her early 20s. She felt the legs of her bar stool quiver. Sandy took long, slow steps towards her. She felt as though she were watching him through a pair of binoculars, his body a tiny spec in the distance. But before long he was just an arms-length away, his face dappled with age and wrinkles looking down at her with emotions she couldn't quite identify. [quote] [i]"Peaches,"[/i] he stated. It was not a question. A statement. He renamed her again, whetting her crown and whispering a prayer.[/quote] And suddenly Pearl had a reason to gather herself back together. Like an actor about to emerge from backstage, watching the curtains rise with bated breath, Pearl sharply inhaled and held that little lifeline close to her chest, bracing herself to perform as someone who was perfectly and utterly fine. Someone who had simply wandered into a bar for a drink. Someone taking shelter from the cool Minnenoona air. Her tight, wry smile did little to wipe the scars of the morning from her face. But his easy eyes had already locked onto her, combing over her, and she wondered if he could see every inch of her beneath the puddle-spattered trench coat. Suddenly she was who he knew before. Younger and armoured with a naΓ―vety that had long since abandoned her. [quote] [i]"Do you still make the meanest Manhattan in the Midwest?"[/i] Pearl rasped. [/quote] Sandy folded both arms across his chest, sleeves riding up to uncover tattoos she didn't remember being there. They were already faded into his skin. How long had it been since she'd heard his voice? [quote] [i]"There are some things that never leave you,"[/i] he shrugged, bowing his head in acknowledgment of her request. [/quote] And she watched him ice a shaker, as she had so many times before, dusting a coupe before pinching its dainty stem between thumb and forefinger. Heads turned as Sandy began assembling the cocktail, not recognising the routine. Those that frequented this bar didn't tend to order Manhattans, it seemed. Though she was sure they would if they knew the man making it. A thin smile remained velcroed to Pearl's lips as she watched Sandy's fingers cradle the neck of the whiskey bottle, slipping that liquor onto ice. The sweet vermouth was added with a flick of his wrist and he shook bitters to balance just the way she liked. And when Sandy reunited both halves of the cocktail shaker, smacking them together with his palm, there was something heavy in the way he looked upon her. The ice cracked side to side, his arms moving with a lazier, slower shake than his former self. [quote] [i]"You never came back," [/i]she whispered. Her words disintegrated in the air between them, lost in the buzz of the bar and between the crackling of shaken ice. [/quote] Sandy tapped the shaker on the edge of the bar, breaking apart the tins and pouring the chilled cocktail into the glass before her. [quote] [i]"No cherries here, I'm afraid"[/i] he said haughtily. [i]"You alright with a twist of lemon?"[/i] [/quote] She nodded. A curl of yellow rind plunged down the side of the glass and Pearl reached eagerly for the stem, lifting it to her parched lips. As it flooded her tastebuds, Sandy's signature gliding down her throat, she swallowed back the first sip with a thirst that crept up on her. Sandy stood, awaiting her reaction patiently. She hummed in approval, smacking her lips together and letting a genuine smile pinch her cheeks. [quote] [i]"You still over on Greet Street?"[/i] Sandy asked, busying his hands with polishing steamed glassware before returning them neatly to the shelves hidden beneath the bar. [/quote] Pearls eyebrows raised and she nodded slowly. [quote] [i]"Sure am,"[/i] she replied. [i]"Never left."[/i] [/quote] He nodded once. Brief. [quote] [i]"How have you been?"[/i] [/quote] [quote] [i]"Yeah, fine."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"Fine?"[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"Yeah, fine."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"Business good?"[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"Business is always good."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"Sorry about Moira."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"I'm not."[/i][/quote] [quote][i] "No?"[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"No."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"Bad, though. The way it all went down."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"I don't think so. She'd rather it all happen that way than dying old and wrinkled."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"Can't have been easy for you. Seeing her like that."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"Weren't easy seein' her like anything."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"I know that. But-"[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"You been doin' this? Here? The whole time?"[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"Hell naw. Tried somethin' else for a while but... Didn't work out."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"You been in Minnenoona ever since?"[/i][/quote] [quote] "[i]I have."[/i][/quote] [quote] [i]"And you didn't-" [/i] [/quote] The jukebox whirred and clicked in the corner as it changed record, the silence exposing Pearl and Sandy so much they both halted, awaiting the next Blues song to kick in. As soon as the tinkering keys refilled the room, Pearl gulped deeply at the Manhattan and stared intently at Sandy. A lick of pain flickered across his aged face, those soft hazel eyes clouding with guilt. [quote] [i]"You're the last person I expected to see come walkin' through that door tonight, Peach. It's been a long time."[/i] [/quote] Pearl sniffed. She remembered that tone. The fry in his voice. She remembered the way he saw her. The way he spoke to her as if they were alone. The way he laughed at her even when she protested her funniness. She remembered the way he'd spot her from the other side of the room, over the sea of heads and shoulders between them, smiling as she pushed her way through the crowd. Remembered the smell of his cologne mixed with sweat. Remembered how she'd giggle and blush and become so malleable in his hands. [quote][i] "I should be gettin' back. They'll be wonderin' where I am. Thanks for the drink. Taste just like I remember it." [/i][/quote] The last of Sandy's Manhattan spilled into Pearl's parted lips as she unfolded from the bar stool, the balls of her feet squealing as she straightened up. She wanted to sprint back out the doors. She wanted to melt into the bar. She wanted to reach across and cradle Sandy's face in her hands. As she turned to leave, choking back the sob that balled in her throat, a hand flew out and gripped her arm. She nearly ripped it away. Instead, she simply reached into her clutch and extracted a generous wedge of bills. Gripping them in her fist, Pearl looked down at the hand that still wrapped around her forearm. It was mapped with fine wrinkles and the glint a silver band at the base of a finger. She gasped softly, stepping back as if that hand were searing hot. Pressing cash into the vacant palm, fingertips brushing against the wedding ring, Pearl hurried away from Sandy Collington and his mean Manhattans and his even meaner ring finger. She was walking a mere few minutes before she whistled for a cab, knees knocking as she jogged towards its flashing indicators and flaring taillights. As she crumpled into the backseat, the taxi drivers eyes peered at her through the rearview mirror. [quote][i] "Where ya goin', Ma'am?" [/I] he huffed, wasting no time shifting back into gear. [/quote] [quote] [i]"SoirΓ©e,"[/i] she said sharply. [i]"Take me to SoirΓ©e. Take me home."[/i] [/quote]