Through The Looking Glass

Benjamin was taking the rest of the afternoon off. With the summer heat starting to set in more people were worried about spending their time outside than they were business. It left him with a lot of free time with the investment office that he could spend at the gentlemen’s club. He had been back in town long enough to make all the connections he would need, but keeping them in good standing was something he always worked on. 

Too bad she wasn’t watching where she was walking. If she had been, she might have noticed Benjamin as he strolled down the street, his eyes furrowed as he read the headlines of the Montford Gazette. But they were both preoccupied, too worried about the work ahead to know what was right in front of them all along.

“Oh drats!” The blonde wailed, her foot stomping as the warm coffee split down her dress and into the deep cracks of the sidewalk. The result of her and Ben colliding as they hustled toward their destinations.

As she sat, Devin leaned against the bar and smiled, surprised that it was she that owned The Stroll. What an interesting turn of events. “You don’t say? Congratulations! I honestly wouldn’t think that Rhett would be willing enough to unlatch the place with his crab-like grip…” he teased. “I’m joking, but I really am glad you’re at the forefront now. Is it too late to ask for my old job back?”

Daisy blushed, adjusting herself on the stool as she leaned forward to breath Devon in. She’d missed him terribly and the life they once had together. Things had changed so much over time, and although life carried with it it’s lemons, Daisy had surely learned to make lemonade.

Sucking in a breath, she pushed through the doors, the immediate wave of kindness and hellos almost stealing the breath as she pushed it from her lungs. Montford wasn’t the same any more. Sure, folks had ties to certain places, but the tension wasn’t there. Something seemed to have flicked on, much like a lightswitch. 

She was distracted. So much so that the voice from behind the bar seemed foreign as she reached it, her head still turned toward the crowd that was having a ball.

It seemed that even their slight changes in appearance had taken him aback. She looked more mature. Established. Better than the last time he’d seen her. “I agree, although you’ve always been more easier on the eyes.” Devin teased as he placed the now clean glass with the others. 

The blonde took her place in the stool, her hands clasped in front of her as she drank Devin in. He seemed a bit more weathered, his face darkened by the slight beard that was growing in. It was a good look for him, she had to admit. A different look that proved there was more to his life than just their past.

“I am still around, Mr. Harrelson. In fact, I own the competition now. Figured I would come over here and see what I was up against.”

Her reputation was never very good with the Irish, but time had passed, lots of time, and over the course of those years, Daisy began to understand what forgiveness was and what it would take to survive in a town like this. Becoming allies with past foes was one of those lessons.

Sucking in a breath, she pushed through the doors, the immediate wave of kindness and hellos almost stealing the breath as she pushed it from her lungs. Montford wasn’t the same any more. Sure, folks had ties to certain places, but the tension wasn’t there. Something seemed to have flicked on, much like a lightswitch. 

She was distracted. So much so that the voice from behind the bar seemed foreign as she reached it, her head still turned toward the crowd that was having a ball.

When his attention had turned to Daisy, Dickey didn’t know how to feel. It’d been too long since they last spoke to one another, especially when the conversations were divided by a simple white picket fence. Now he didn’t necessarily dislike his new neighbors, but he believed that sometimes, change was something one couldn’t get used to. Questions formed through his mind the moment she approached him, some in which would be answered in the next few moments. Hopefully. 

But she still thought about it, and the fact that she'd never own the Stroll, not the way she once thought she would.

"Well, someone's gotta keep Kelly out of trouble. If not, he would have been put away ages ago, and this place woulda gone under."

Beaming, Daisy squeezed Dickey's shoulders, hopping onto a stool, order a drink for both herself and her counterpart. She missed her home, and was even more irate when the land was sold right out from underneath her, but there wasn't much Daisy could do in a town that seemed to despise her. 

"I know. I miss the old neighborhood. And you, and Ms. Blanchett across the way, but Barker found away around the legitimates and sold my small plot right out from underneath me. Sal\s been a good caretaker though, and has done a wonderful job of leaving me be and allowing me to get back on my feet all on my own."

Grinning, she snatched her glass up, taking a large swig before looking Dickey over with a critical eye. 

The gangster relaxed onto the couch, letting his body sinking into the cushions. He wanted to sleep, but he knew that would be a horrible idea. He definitely had a concussion, which meant Daisy would be waking him up every hour on the hour if he nodded off now. 

She’d never seen him like this before. Sure, Sal had come home a few nights, back in the day with a black eye, or a bloody nose every once in a while, but nothing like the damage that was displayed before Daisy now.

With lips taught, the blonde tenderly pulled the bandage away, stifling another grunt of dismay as she stared at the cut. It was large, but thankfully not deep enough to hit anything major. He wasn’t bleeding out either which seemed to bode well, but she needed to redress it and get him comfortable for the night to come.

The usual Summer’s humid air couldn’t stop the hustle and bustle in the town of Montford. Even on one of the hottest nights of the season, men and women alike flocked to their favorite places in search for a night of fun among their peers. It was like the Prohibition Law in this town ceased to exist, and the past incidents that plagued the twon in the course of a year were nothing but a distant memory. Ask about those particular happenings and all you’d get was a dull explanation and a shrug to match. This town lived too fast with the dangers that began to close in on this once distinguished town. How long would it be until the law finally clamped down on the townspeople?

While the Speakeasies were more fun, larger, and elaborate to be in, nothing could beat the gatherings that were held in smaller settings; especially people’s houses and private establishments. All you needed was a few bottles of hooch and people flocked to you like a moth to a flame. You weren’t getting paid to host these kind of things as much as the big named businesses, of course. These type of functions had been steadily growing in some cities, which attracted special agents to shut down the gatherings when things had gotten too hot. As usual, the townsfolk partied on without a care in the world.

Turning toward the bar, Daisy practically guffawed at the sight of her former neighbor. Dickey had been busy over the course of the last few months, and so had she, especially with the prospect of saving up and finding herself a new home. It seemed like ages since the last time they spoke, and the conversation had left little to be desired in the way of happy thoughts.

Everything hurt, each muscle, bone and piece of skin felt ripped apart. He couldn’t go to the hospital, not in this shape. There would be questions and police. So Sal ended up at the drugstore, lying on a table, forceps and knives poking at him until the bullet was dislodged from his shoulder. “You should see the other guy,” Sal joked with James as he and Eiji patched him up, cleaning the cuts and giving him medication for the pain. “Come see us tomorrow.” James hollered after Sal as the man limped out of the pharmacy. 

It was a long walk home, too long, but he hand no choice. Tonight had been bad, but at least he got away. The other two guys, well he hoped they enjoyed swimming or deep lake diving as it were. He’d been taught how to clean up his mess well, no trace, except his bruised and battered body. Nothing time won’t heal. 

Time and Daisy Miller. Sal smiled as he pulled himself up the stairs, opening the door, instantly glad that he could smell vanilla and lavender. It meant Daisy was home. 

"Bella…" He tried yelling out, but all the energy he had left was being used just to hold him up. "Daisy…" The gangster collapsed on the couch, wincing as his body hit the cushions. "Daisy!" He yelled as loud as he could, finally glad that he heard her footsteps in the hall. 

The strained voice from the living room caught her off guard, making Daisy’s shoulders tense as she set down her paints, a dirty towel in her hands. He was home late, but for Sal, that wasn’t unusual. His business tended to always keep him up during the darker hours, but still, she felt uneasy as she moved down the hall.

“Everything al-…” She trailed off, the towel falling to the floor as she rushed to Sal’s side. “Oh sweetheart…” She wheezed, helping the injured man pull of his suit jacket. She knew what had happened, maybe not all of the details, but they weren’t important now. Instead, she was far more concerned with the state of his white shirt, the left side, just at his waist, stained red.

“Have you gone to the drugstore?” She questioned, flinging the coat to the floor before unbuttoning the collared shirt. “Eiji should have at least been able to clean this out.” Daisy frowned, ogling the botched stitching that had been done to the man’s side. It was a stab wound, but thankfully it wasn’t deep. By the look of it, Sal had just barely missed the brunt of the blow, but he had still been nicked, the slice flaying his skin just below the rib.

He wasn’t one to halt creativity, so he stood there, hair a mess, reading the paper. Sal tried hard to focus on the articles, to really pay attention to the words in ink, littering the pages, but it was difficult, because when Daisy painted, she looked beautiful. Full of concentration and determination. It was one of Sal’s favorite looks on her and part of him was glad he didn’t have a right to interrupt this session like he normally would’ve. 

It just meant she would get to see him almost naked until the painting was finished. 

"Alright, I'll free you." She sighed, dropping her paintbrush onto the sill of her easel. "Thanks for being such a good sport. You were always my favorite thing to paint. Seems time hasn't changed that fact."

"Are you complaining?" He ask, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen. "Cause your eyes are telling me something entirely different." He winked at Daisy, walking over towards the couch. 

She began to scrutinize the man, batting his hand away as he attempted to smooth his hair down. 

"No, don't touch it. I want you disheveled.. normal. Those turn out to be the best ones. The ones that look like you aren't even trying to be beautiful, because you already are without having to try."

She chuckled, a slightly nervous noise that left Daisy's throat after the thought about the words she let slip from her mouth. 

"No apology and no thank you needed. Anything that gets you painting again is thanks enough… as long as you hang some of your work in here." He grinned, standing up and replacing his tools back in the shed. "You should be able to put weight on it in about an hour, after the glue has a chance to dry." He moved over to his cup of coffee and picked it up, draining most of the cold liquid in one gulp, before heading to the kitchen for a refill. 

"Well, I literally have thrown everything I ever owned into the fire. It's time for me to figure out who I really am. Who I want to be, and what makes me tick, because as sad as it sounds, I'm not sure I know who I am anymore. I just know that I like to paint, so I figured I should give it a go again."

He was in the way of the coffee pot, and without hesitation, almost as if this had been five years prior, Daisy came up to Sal, leaning against him in order to grab the coffee from behind his back. She was comfortable with him again, and although this was a rather compromising position for the both of them, she found she didn't care. Rather, it served the man right to be traipsing around in his boxers. 

With a snide smile she poured her coffee, a smirk on her face as she refused to look him in the eye. 

Setting the pot back down she finally looked back up at him, cracking a full fledged smile. 

"You’re beautiful when you’re frustrated." It wasn’t something he should’ve let slip, but he couldn’t help himself, his brain was still fuzzy with sleep, which meant his filter wasn’t up yet. 

"Anyway… lets take a look at this easel…" He turned, picking up his coffee and heading into the living room. The easel wasn’t in bad shape. A bit of glue and a few patches here and there and i’d be good as new. Sal didn’t even bother putting clothes on, instead heading over to his cabinet in the living room. After fumbling for a good five minutes he pulled out a small can of glue, a hammer, some nails and little thin wooden splints. 

Satisfied, she watched, standing in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room as she sipped her coffee. Even in the early morning, Salvatore was agile, and the fact that he'd only had a couple of sips from his morning coffee proved that either he cared, or simply, he just wanted her to shut the hell up. 

Either way was fine with Daisy so long as she was able to revel in the scene before her. After all, it wasn't every day she was able to witness something so... entertaining. 

"Do I owe you an apology? Or should I scold you and blame you for all of my mishaps this morning?" She questioned as he hammered the final nail into her old easel. "I mean, of course you came to my rescue, but wasn't it you that put the milk in a strange place?"

She was smiling at him then, her eyes crinkling in the corners due to how wide it spread across her face.