Joseph Tropiano (luckandchance) wrote in low_tide, @ 2009-12-11 22:45:00 |
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Current mood: | flirty |
Entry tags: | cassidy demarco, joseph tropiano |
Practice Makes Perfect
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.
He stepped back and settled one hand atop of the stick whilst the other lifted the cigarette to his mouth, lips taking a drag. He let out a slow breath and the smoke followed, lingering in the air just ahead and above. This guy was a drag, he really was, he was taking way too long and Joseph’s patience was starting to wear.
“You ever going to take the shot?” Joseph inquired, approaching the table again. “I’m starting to get grey hairs.” The only response Joseph got was a glower that was easily ignored, especially in the pursuit of another sip of whiskey.
Tattered ends of jeans dragged along Joseph’s steps as he continued to move, assessing the mood and the atmosphere of the opponent, pace finally settling after his opponent had taken a shot that had predictably missed.
When Cassidy was a teenager, there was a neighborhood place where most kids went if they wanted to cut school and not get hauled in by the truant officer. The Italians and the Irish had existed in a sort of uneasy truce, and O'Malley's was neutral ground. There had been a jukebox and two worn pool tables, and despite the fact that she had met Richie there, she had always had a fondness for the place and establishments like it.
There was no jukebox here, but music was being piped in through a sound system overhead, something Top Forties. She never knew the name of songs anymore. Cassidy ordered a fresh beer and propped her elbow on the bar's counter. There had been no beer at O'Malley's, not until after eight o'clock when all the kids went home. Tourists in ugly flowered shirts huddled around three of the tables in back, nattering about the lack of surf. She was too busy watching the two guys play pool to really hear what they were saying.
"That wasn't very nice,' she remarked lightly as the apparent loser of the game put his cue back in the rack on the wall and stalked off, leaving the other guy at the table alone. "I think you hurt his delicate feelings. Did you clean him out?"
Joseph was busy counting through the bills of green that he’d just made off that chump, turning his head when approached by the brunette, regarding her through strands of hair. The comment caused him to chuckle and flash a predatory smile. “Didn’t come here to be nice.”
He wet his lower lip and held up the bundle of bills. “I’d say so.” The money vanished into a pocket and the cigarette left still burning in the nearby ashtray was crushed out, leaving nothing but ash and a lingering trail of smoke of where it had been.
Joseph finally lifted his head and rested eyes on the brunette, picking up his whiskey to take a sip from it. “I gave him a chance to back out.” He ducked his head, dimples in his cheeks giving away the grin that had spread across his face again. “Not that he could have at that point, he really thought he had a chance.”
"Nice is boring." Not that Vegas was teeming with nice guys, but it didn't make them any less boring. Familiarity might breed contempt, but scarcity didn't generate much love either. Cassidy crossed her ankles, rested her feet on the bottom rung of the stool she occupied.
"You hustle?" It seemed incongruous, if only because this was Florida and not New York, but the guy looked like an out-of-towner anyway. 'Seems like a weird place for it, but maybe times have changed since I was a kid."
He tipped what was left of his whiskey down the back of his throat and briefly turned the now empty glass over in his hand before catching the eye of the bartender, gesturing for another with a simple lift of his chin.
“Yeah, something like that.” Joseph had been hustling for longer than he’d been working for the Mafia, it was something natural and easy to do. “You can take the man outta New York, but you can’t take New York out of the man.”
Joseph scratched at his eyebrow and eased back against the table, resting his weight onto the soles of his boots. “Can I get you a drink?”
"You can, actually." Okay, so she'd really just ordered and had barely started on her beer, but why spend her own money when she could spend his? Besides, she liked his boots. 'I'll take a vodka gimlet, light on the sugar. I'm watching my weight."
This was the point where she would have lit up a cigarette, but it had been better for her to quit. She was sure Bad Ass Boots had smokes on him, though. Would it be bad manners to ask to bum one? She'd give it a few minutes, see how things went. "Impressive job, by the way. Must be hard to act like you're losing only to close the net when its too late."
Joseph arched an eyebrow, tipping his head to allow for a better look at the brunette. “Your weight?” He shook his head and let out another chuckle. “I really don’t think you’ve got anything to worry about.” Joseph lifted his chin again, catching the bartender’s attention again, relaying the lady’s choice of drink.
He turned away from the conversation at hand to check his phone, he’d gotten a text message about halfway through the game itself, but he hadn’t checked it. It was nothing too important, nothing that needed attending to straight away anyways, all in good time.
“Practice makes perfect,” Joseph remarked with a wry smile.
The drinks were brought over and paid for with a generous tip, causing the young woman to flush and shoot Joseph a smile that could have lit up a couple blocks for a few hours. “Do I get a name to put to the pretty face or are you working the mysterious brunette thing?”
It made her sit up a little straighter, that chuckle, and she replied, "I don't think anyone's ever called me mysterious before. I'll have to remember that one." A quick check of his hands. No ring. Good. The last thing she needed was Mr. New York's wife to come in here and start a scene. Italian broads were the worst about their guys. Being an Italian broad herself, she should know.
"But now that you've asked, it's Cassidy." She picked up her glass and sipped at the drink, savoring the taste of the lime. "Do I get a name to go with the boots? Love those, by the way."
“You do that,” Joseph remarked with a smile, clearly amused.
He picked up his drink and took a sip from it, letting the whiskey coat his tongue before swallowing it back. The comment about his boots brought about a look down and a small laugh, ringed fingers disappearing into long lengths of dark hair to push it back from where it had ultimately fallen forward. “Name’s Joseph.”
Placing the glass back down on the edge of the table, Joseph fished out his cigarettes. “You having a good night?”
"It's been average, but it's still early. I'll let you know after a couple more drinks."
Someone had switched the music selection over to country, and Cassidy tried not to make a face. She was trying to figure out what Joseph might do for a living, a game she used to play when she worked the clubs. "You don't mind if I call you Joey, do you? You're not old enough to be a Joseph. It's too...I dunno, college professor."
Joseph arched an eyebrow. “Not old enough, huh?” He tipped his head back to chuckle, exposing the length of his throat that was a long stretch of golden skin. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Cassidy.” He hadn’t answered her question about calling him by ‘Joey’, but truth be told he really didn’t care.
He eased a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a smooth flick of his zippo lighter. “Can’t see me teaching a class full of young doe eyed hopefuls?” Joseph reflected on that imagery and laughed again, shaking his head. “I can’t either.”
"So what do you do during daylight hours, Joey?" she asked, sloshing the contents of her glass around in a careless fashion. "I doubt hustling pool games could pay all the bills, no matter how good you might be. What's your real job?"
The tourists were leaving, and she took another drink as she watched their garish shirts catch the light as they departed. It was like a law that vacationers had to put on the ugliest thing they could find, just to differentiate them from the natives.
Joseph leaned back and exhaled smoke, resting the hand holding the cigarette rest on his denim clad thigh. “Me?” How to phrase what he did in a way that didn’t cause alarm bells to ring, it wasn’t like he went around advertising what he did. He knew better than that. “I’m a… businessman.” He picked up his drink and took a slow swallow. “I take care of things, things like people and places.”
He leaned across the table and picked up the ashtray, flicking the filter end with the edge of his thumb. “It’s nothing exciting. Real boring stuff.” Although the grin on his face suggested otherwise.
Joseph pushed away from the table and offered the cigarette to Cassidy, wondering if she’d say no or accept it and share. “What about you, Cassidy? What do you do when you’re not checking out the pool games?”
"Now who's being mysterious?" Cassidy asked lightly, taking the cigarette out of Joseph's hand. A few puffs wouldn't kill her. She tucked it into her mouth and took a short drag, coughing in the aftermath. After over ten years without a smoke, it'd take a while to get used to it again.
"I used to work in Las Vegas," she continued after the short fit had passed. "Ever been to a place called the Four Sultans? I worked the stage from Wednesday to Fridays, and sometimes for the after-hours crowd." Watching his expression even as she fiddled with her drink stirrer. These younger guys could be a puzzle; sometimes they cared, sometimes they didn't.
Joseph chuckled softly and smirked slowly. “Nothing wrong with a little mystery.” He frowned as she coughed, lifting an eyebrow. “Lemme guess, you haven’t smoked in a while? I knew a guy who sounded like that the first time he got his lips on a cigarette after about five years without.”
He sipped at his drink and caught a slip of ice between his teeth, pulling it into his mouth where he let it melt. “Yeah, I’ve been there. Had some good times there.” And he had, there was nothing wrong with watching a beautiful woman move curves in time to well picked music. “Don’t think I ever caught your show though.”
Joseph reached out to steal his cigarette back, taking a lengthy pull. “What dragged you away from the bright neon lights?”
"I didn't get dragged, I got pushed."
She exhaled the last of the smoke more slowly, stirred her drink some more. "My manager told me they were looking to put some young thing up there, that I was too old for the life anymore. If I thought I'd win, I'd sue them for age discrimination, but a court case would take years. At least they paid me off, bought out the rest of my contract, but still. Assholes."
Rather than let herself drift off down that path, Cassidy dragged herself back to the present. "I guess you could call this my retirement."
“Shit,” Joseph muttered. “That sucks.” He shook his head and offered the cigarette back to Cassidy. “Well whatever they said you sure as hell don’t look old.” He sat back and gave her a considerable once over and then gave a disarming smile. “Thank God for small blessings, huh?”
Joseph straightened up and moved around the table, picking up the abandoned pool cues to put them back in their right place. Every move was slow, unhurried and exuded a certain confidence that Joseph had that some men lacked.
“Why Key West out of curiosity?”
"I thought about Miami, but Miami's too loud. I wanted a place where I could do some thinking, see where I'm supposed to go from here. If there's something that comes next, it'll be easier to find if there's fewer distractions."
The next puff went easier, and Cassidy snagged an ashtray that sat on the bar with one finger. "Why'd you leave New York?" she asked Joseph. "It seems like there's be more things to...fix...in a bigger place. Why the Keys?"
Joseph shrugged his shoulders, easily. “It’s a good vacation spot. Even a businessman needs time off.” He picked up what was left of his drink and swallowed it back, catching stray droplets of whiskey in the corner of his mouth with the edge of his thumb. “All work and no play makes me a dull boy.”
Lies, beautiful and deceitful lies.
He held up his glass and gestured for another, turning to set up another game of pool, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to fine tune some of his skills.
'Business.' Cassidy's inner antenna was clicking on. Along with her bullshit meter. You couldn't live in Las Vegas for nearly twenty years without meeting guys who talked about 'business' in much the same tone. She finished off her gimlet, set the glass down before signalling for a fresh drink.
"Must be quite a racket you're in," she said, putting just the slightest emphasis on the word 'racket'. "Do you enjoy your job, Joey?"
The curve of Joseph's back straightened up a little with the way Cassidy's voice changed and his hands stilled for a moment before they went right back to setting up a game of pool, the single black eight ball being turned over in his hands as he considered her question.
"Do I enjoy it?" He repeated, turning to bare teeth in a feral grin that caught his eyes. "Yeah, guess you could say that." Joseph placed the eight ball down and rolled the white ball towards the other end of the table with the very tips of fingers, a fleeting but effective caress.
His fingertips moved over the table to catch a small cube of blue chalk, tossing it from one hand to another. "I'm never bored."
She grinned back, looked down into the glass the bartender her just provided her with, pulled the stirrer out of the drink. Slipping off of her seat, she put out the cigarette she'd been smoking and moved to stand closer to the table. The white ball spun in a lazy circle before it bumped against the felt-covered edge of the table.
"Boredom is bad," she said with a definitive nod, then took the liberty of touching Joseph on the shoulder. "And relax," she added in a lower voice. "I'm not casting stones. When you get to be my age, you figure out a few things about how the world works. Especially in Vegas."
The brunette directed her attention to the rack of pool cues where it hung suspended on the wall, plucked one out of its slot. "You setting up another game? Maybe I'd like to try my luck. I haven't played for money in years, but I'd be willing to give it a shot."
Joseph turned his head to regard Cassidy over his shoulder, smile lingering in the corner of his mouth. “Good to know.” He sought out the white ball again and placed it in the middle of the line. “I was thinking about another game, you’re welcome to join me.”
He stepped around the table and brushed past Cassidy, plucking a cue from the nearby wall to offer it to her. “Lady goes first.” He stepped back and picked up his newly delivered drink, taking a considerable sip of it until he couldn’t taste anything but whiskey.
She lined up her first shot with a squint, targeting the unmarked white ball. She really hadn't played in a while, but as Joey had said, practice made perfect. Lots and lots of practice.....