Low Tide

Wynne was hungover, and it wasn't from booze or drugs. The night before had passed in a blur, but he did know he had pushed past his own limits...and that wasn't always a good thing. Waking up in a strange place with empty pockets, it was severely discomfiting. His mouth was dry, and he didn't have money to get a drink. He ran a pale hand over his face, felt day-and-a-half old stubble.

He walked down the sidewalk, the sun ever present no matter how much he tried to seek shade under the awnings of store fronts. Wynne scanned the vicinity for any sort of familiar face, but it was a weak effort. Most of the people he had gotten to know in Key West were of a more nocturnal sort. They were all probably sleeping comfortably in their beds.

The sun was making its glorious appearance now that most of the cloud cover had blown away, and Cassidy put on her shades against the glare as she exited the post office. Bit of a hangover from last night, and her head was still feeling a little thick. She was going to have to stop making Duval Street her second home.

The bottle of water she was carrying got uncapped, and she took a slow drink as she ambled down the sidewalk. She would need lunch soon, but something light so as not to threaten her stomach. This afternoon, there was to be more furniture shopping.

( Charity of Sorts )

Cassidy managed to find a good sandwich shop on one of her wandering trips around Key West, and it was close enough to the beach that she could watch the water while she ate her lunch. It was getting dark way too early for her taste, and it seemed like the streets rolled up a lot earlier than she was used to. Still, she was getting so she liked it in a quieter place. Maybe she really was getting a little too old for bright lights.

She had ordered a tuna melt and cheese fries, and she added a little vinegar to the fries before eating a few of them. Tomorrow was grocery run day. She was pondering getting a washer and dryer, because the nearest laundromat was scuzzy. Fortunately her money wasn't going to run out anytime soon, and she had a few investments that were still paying off. If things got tight, she could go through some of the stuff she'd gotten from past admirers. She really only needed so much stuff these days.

The sandwich was very good, and she had another bite before washing it down with some orange soda. Life might have slowed down, but it didn't have to be in a bad way. It could even turn out to be pretty good.

( Yellow Raining Down )

( Osmosis )

If there was one thing Joseph was good at it, it was knowing when and how to have a good time, especially when he’d spent the last couple nights working his ass to the bone trying to find out as much information about the people who “ran” the city.

Currently he was enjoying a cigarette and a game of pool that was rapidly turning in his favour, to the dismay of his once enthusiastic now turned dejected opponent. Joseph had offered him an out about three balls ago, but the guy’s confidence had been falsely built up by that point so he was under the mistaken impression that he could win this.

Shame that he couldn’t.

Joseph swept his hair back and prowled the table, tipping his head to watch the angle that the man was aiming the stick, tutting under his breath slightly as he just knew it wasn’t going to do anything except knock the ball too far off target. Not that Joseph was about to share that piece of information.

( Not Very Nice )

Maybe it had been a bad decision to leave Vegas in such a hurry.

It was eight o'clock at night, and Cassidy was fumbling for her sunglasses to put them on against the glare of streetlights as she made her way down the sidewalk. She was hung over, and she'd been hung over for a couple of days now. The problem with hangovers was that only more booze could ease the pain,and she found herself relying on the bottle to get her through even those short days. A drinking problem at forty. How unoriginal.

She could hear the tide going out, and she padded down to the sand. Her rental was close enough to the beach that the early tide woke her up, but she'd been avoiding the outdoors. She'd been half-drunk when she made the plane reservations, and caught her flight on a wave of schnapps-fueled indignation. Can her, would they? Well, she didn't need them. She still had her looks and her talent. She'd get by.

The question was...how.

( Everyone Is a Tourist )

"Cassidy, can you come in the office for a minute? I need to talk to you."

She had taken the last of her makeup off, toweling the sweat off the back of her neck before tugging a sweatshirt on. It was as cold tonight as Nevada got, and the wind coming in off the desert had a definite bite to it. In the mirror, she saw Charlie, the club manager, poking his head into the dressing room. Everyone else had either left or was getting ready to leave. As the headliner, Cassidy usually ended up staying until they closed the doors. She draped the towel over her shoulder, got up from her chair. Her feet were killing her, and she left her shoes behind to put them on later.

( Say What?! )