fangednconfused (fangednconfused) wrote in birthrightrpg, @ 2020-09-05 18:07:00 |
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Entry tags: | derek mitchell, npc |
Giving Help
Who: Derek, NPC Rocky Milam (written by Rae)
What: Honoring Ronnie's Wishes
Where: Las Vegas
When: Present
Ratings/Warnings: Language, Alcoholism, Mild Violence
The apartment building was a relic in the middle of a city that lived in a constant state of flux and change. It boasted small efficiencies that could be rented on a weekly basis. Window air conditioning units littered the face of the structure. Two older men sat outside like sentries on padded folding chairs, smoking and watching passersby with passive, sleepy eyes.
It was them that Derek approached. One man tossed a spent cigarette to the ground before immediately replacing it with a fresh one, patting his pockets fruitlessly. The vampire pulled out his own lighter, thumb against sparkwheel, flame igniting and meeting paper. The old man nodded appreciatively, dark eyes sweeping upward to take in Derek’s tall frame.
“Does Rocky Milam live here?”
“Yeah, that son of a bitch stays here,” the other man cough-laughed. “Probably not for long, though.” He eyed Derek closely, a spark of life appearing in his face after all. “What does he owe you?”
Derek tucked his lighter away and gave the two gentlemen a benign smile. “Just visiting.”
The first man took a long drag, plumes of smoke rising to meet the vampire. “Fourth floor, apartment 46. Good luck.” The two exchanged glances and laughed, the sound like matching barks. Derek nodded and gave an appreciative wave before turning and entering the dilapidated structure, and began the ascent up the dark, claustrophobic stairwell, sneakered feet causing the creaking of steps.
The vampire reached the apartment door quickly and curled his hand into a fist, delivering a hard knock.
“‘S it?” came a gruff voice beyond the door.
Rocky was sitting in a dingy recliner that had seen better days. The inside of the apartment was dimly lit and nearly bare of furniture. Stained carpet lined the floor from peeling wall to wall. The rattle from the air conditioner sounded like a lifetime smoker with a breathing problem - a wet wheeze that warbled every few minutes or so.
Sitting next to him on a television tray was a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniel’s whiskey. The grainy television sputtered snaps of the news and just enough noise to compliment the colors he was seeing with open eyes.
Empty glass bottles and various piles of takeout containers, clothes, and trash littered various empty surfaces including the floor.
“Go ‘way.” His speech was slurred. It took a lot of sauce to get Rocky sloshed these days but every loose coin and crumpled spare bill went to the habit.
Derek heard that slurred voice clearly and realized that Ronnie hadn’t been kidding. The man just sounded like a wreck. The vampire had planned for this eventuality, though. “I’m here about some money that’s owed to you,” he called out, his mouth inches from the door. “Something about a card game, and Billy...five C-notes.”
The vampire stood and waited, his hand on the doorframe.
Money owed — had he forgotten. That got Rocky in motion. It took him a few seconds to lurch from the chair. His feet felt like rocks, boulders, as he set himself in motion toward the door. “You better — better n’ be,” a hiccup that sounded loaded with more but it was swallowed back. “Lyin to me, piece of shit.”
Rocky finally reached the door. There was kind enough to start for the bat by the door just in case but his vision was swimming.
Then the door crept open and double vision showed him two men at the door. “Chu want?” Rocky was in his late fifties. That dark hair similar to Ronnie’s was dredged in grey. He looked as if he’d aged twenty additional years, he didn’t have much left in the way of teeth and a hefty fur squeezed over the front of stained trousers. His white tank top barely contained the girth.
Derek’s gaze swept over Rocky. It would have been pitying, if he hadn’t harbored such anger on Ronnie’s behalf. He thought of what his friend had told him, the way he had walked out on his wife and small son on Christmas, of all days. The smell of the tiny apartment was strong, and wafted out to fill the hallway. There were dormant shades of Ronnie in this older man, but none of the friendliness or warmth.
The vampire flashed a wad of bills in his hand. “Can I come in? I don’t really wanna discuss this out here.” Derek practically winked. “Never know who’s listening when it comes to a windfall.”
Eyebrows furrowed as if he were assessing whether or not the vision doubled before him was being legitimate. This wasn’t the type of building where the tenants were always trustworthy, but the young man at the door didn’t look like he lived here. The bookies sent youngen’s these days to do the dirty shit.
The money convinced him. Door eased shut and the chain was pulled before it swung open. “Git in here,” Rocky invited, waving the bat to bade entrance. “Be quick.”
Derek noted the bat in the drunken man’s hand, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The vampire would have been shocked indeed if Ronald Senior could even make contact with the weapon. He was less than worried.
Upon entering the small abode, Derek cast his gaze over the refuse, the lived-in dent in the chair, the bottle of Jack. It was in striking contrast to the neat, orderly, homey feel in Ronnie’s home. Rose kept a tight ship and had obviously passed that onto her only child. Rocky was pure chaos.
“You know what’s really sad?” the vampire asked, expression turning cold and stony. “The fact that your son still thinks you could ever change.”
Rocky hadn’t been expecting that. His brow furrowed again. “He ain’t good for nothin’ sombitch.” It came out in a grunt and the hand holding the bat was taken by gravity, falling to the side. The tip of the bat settled against the ground and Rocky nearly used it for balance. “Ain’t worth nothin’.” He muttered again.
“Gimmie that cash ya owe me ‘n get outta here.”
Derek’s look turned to one of revulsion at Rocky’s disparagement. “What would you know about him?” he asked, the words ground out between teeth. “You left him when he was five, you piece of…” The vampire realized his hands were clenched into tight fists, and briefly closed his eyes.
“It was not Rose and Ronnie’s fault that they were too good for you,” he continued, his voice a veneer of false calm. “And if you think you’re getting this?” Derek held up the money before stuffing it back into his pocket. “You’re more wasted than I thought.”
“Why you care?” He grunted, dismissively. He didn’t care about the old family he had at one time, that was in the past. He wanted that cash. Already, Rocky had plans for it that didn’t involve paying off any of those debts. As soon as the cash was gone he started to get angry.
“‘Ey, Gimmie what you owe me,” Rocky growled, shoving at the stranger. “Fucker. Ain’t playin’.” His vision was still swimming.
Derek didn’t know what he had been expecting, really. For Rocky to suddenly sober up at the vampire’s words? To fall to his knees and beg for forgiveness? Nothing he said would get through to this man.
“You want me to give you what I owe you?” he asked.
A hand struck out, slapping the older man across the face at about thirty percent of Derek’s actual strength. “You need to shut up, and listen.”
If anything, Rocky was stubborn. It was a trait he’d passed on to his son in some respects, the depth of alcoholism, too. Ronnie was nowhere close to touching the level of his father but he could get there if things took a turn for the worse.
Before he could answer he was knocked off of his feet by the slap to the face. Rocky landed with a thud on the floor, limbs flailing and pained, pathetic noises leaving his mouth. “Whatya do that for? Get outta here. Lemme ‘lone.”
Rocky rolled over, crawled across the floor and reached out for the bottle of Jack at the side table for comfort. “Go way.”
Derek noted the way the man lurched for his bottle instead of his bat, and that’s when the pity started to sink in. This man was sick. An asshole, yes, and that might exist even without the booze. But it certainly didn’t help things. He reached a hand down and hauled Rocky back up to his feet.
“Ronnie asked me to get you help,” he said, “because a part of him cares what happens to you. You should realize that’s a gift and cling to it with everything you’ve got. Or you’re going to die, and it isn’t gonna be as easy as falling asleep in the gutter.”
Rocky did his best to wiggle away. His focus was singular, that bear empty bottle haunted him and he wanted it more than anything. His throat felt dry, his brain was telling him that if he could get to the drink things would be clearer and he could deal with them. “Go way,” he repeated though with less interest and vigor, still struggling.
The vampire let go of the man and swiped the bottle out of reach. With a backward glance at Rocky, Derek made his way over to the small sink in the open plan kitchenette. He twisted off the cap and upended the bottle, the amber liquid glugging as it poured down the drain in spurts. Once it was drained, he tossed the empty into an overflowing trash bin.
“Now, can we talk?”
“No!” He shouted, falling forward onto his face in an attempt to get to the taller man. The sound of the liquid bubbling down the drain was enough to bring the elderly man to tears. “What you done?” Rocky wiggled a bit on the ground in a fit of rage. “Get outta my house.”
Derek knelt down beside Rocky, his tone turning soothing and apologetic. “Okay, I shouldn’t have done that,” the vampire said, resting his hands on his knees. “To make it up to you, how about we go to a bar? I’ll cover the tab, and we can talk about you getting this money.”
“Okay? Do we have a deal?”
Rocky stopped flailing. He looked at the double vision of the tall man, eyes squinting as he mulled over whether or not he could trust the stranger after what had already occurred. But he wanted to go to the bar, and with a covered tab…
“Kay, but no funny business,” Rocky muttered.
The vampire offered a smile. “No funny business,” he agreed, before lifting Rocky to his feet once again. He found a tiny closet, and rifled through it for something more...dignified, for Rocky to wear on their adventure. A neon colored t-shirt advertising a local strip club was the only non-holey, clean thing he could find, and he held it out for the older man to put on.
He helped guide Ronnie’s father carefully down the stairs and they exited the building, where an Uber was idling and waiting patiently. “Please don’t throw up in this car,” the vampire muttered as he got both of them settled for the ride.
It wasn’t long before they arrived at their destination, an unassuming building with a large overhang above the front entrance. Derek shuffled Rocky out of the hired car before he could protest.
Rocky pulled on the brightly colored tee shirt with a grunt. It was nearly too small by now which was one of the reasons it was in pristine shape. Laundry had never been his forte. And then they were shuffling down the stairs from the apartment. He hadn’t bothered to remember to lock the door, only shut it behind himself. Dirty, beat up sneakers thudded on the stairs. Rocky gripped on the handle and also onto Derek as his vision swam.
Fortunately they got to the curbside and the idling vehicle without incident. The two men in chairs outside made a bit of noise in jest at Rocky but he could barely hear them.
His eyes had closed on the way. Rocky was snoring lightly, having fallen asleep in the car with the soothing motion and the soft music. But once they arrived he grumbled and got out of the car with the help. “Gimmie a double,” he murmured, those eyes drooping closed again.
Derek slung a supportive arm around Rocky as he led the man into the building. Once inside, a sign announced where they were: Desert Hope Drug Rehabilitation Center. “Yep, we’ll get you a double,” the vampire murmured, steering the half-conscious man toward the reception desk, where a middle aged woman sat in front of a computer screen.
“Excuse me,” Derek announced, standing before her. “This is Ronald Milam. His son called ahead.”
The receptionist nodded and proceeded to check her computer. The information was there, they were expecting a one Ronald Milam. “Paperwork,” she replied, hoisting up a clipboard of papers for Derek to fill out. And then she called for the orderlies to come and assist. “Just fill out what you can, honey,” she said to Derek.
Rocky looked around with bleary eyes. It was bright in this bar.
Moments later four heavy set gentlemen in white came through a door, “Mr. Milam, come right this way,” one of them said gently. They weren’t engaging or aggressive. The older man tilted his head, “What kind bar is this? Is it like Cheers?” The man nodded, “That’s right. We’ve got a stool waiting for you in the back, but we want to let you relax first. Okay?”
Rocky nodded. “Kay. I wanna double,” he stated. The man nodded and the four of them escorted the elderly man through the doors carefully.
The vampire filled out the information using what Ronnie had told him, double checking his phone every so often for accuracy. When he was done, he handed the clipboard back to the woman. “He has a gambling problem, too,” Derek offered. “I wrote it down under ‘other’.”
He glanced at the double doors, but the five men were already out of sight. “Is there anything else?”
“Thanks honey,” she murmured, taking the clipboard. “No, we will take it from here. You go get some rest.” The woman began to process the paperwork.
The waiting room was quiet and very clinical, and perhaps too quiet.
Derek nodded and exited the facility, sighing deeply and slumping down against an exterior wall once he was outside. He rubbed his head with his fingers before picking up his phone and sending a text to Ronnie, letting him know it was done. He knew his friend appreciated not having to see his father or deal with this, and the vampire was glad to have handled it all for him. It was the least he could do.
As an afterthought, he added in a separate message. ‘I miss Rose.’
The vampire looked up at the horizon, his gaze contemplative and distant.