peyton hayes

"Always does." His words are cryptic, almost coming out as reserved and unnatural. The hardest part of Troy's job is the amount of information that he is privy to, usually, when it's quiet like it has been since the Network's party, that means something sinister may be taking place in the shadows. He can't help but brace himself for the worst after the year that they've had, even when her request to take care of himself always fell to deaf ears. He'd been on a self-destruction path for as long as he could remember now and Peyton knew that, so it was met with a small, apologetic smile before he spoke up, "When do you think it's okay to stop missing someone?"

Peyton knew that she couldn't will him to suddenly care for himself in any aspect. Whether it be physically, mentally, emotionally— or at all. She stilled at his question and then watched him while her mind ran a thousand different directions but ended with a final thought towards her father whom she thought of every single day. "I think that's a fucking loaded question, Troy." She laughed and poured herself a drink because something told her that the direction of this conversation would end with her craving something strong on her tongue to help make her forget the agony in her chest. "I don't think there's a right answer. Just because you stop missing them doesn't mean you forget about them but some also need to be forgotten and that isn't bad either." She shrugged her shoulder. "Then there's others where you wish you could stop, or know it would be easier if you could. I think all of those things are normal and acceptable."

"Just a small apology?" Isa's head moved to the side as she thought about it, already moving as she motioned for the other to follow her. "I believe we can put you a nice bouquet together for that. Sunflowers and lily of the valley sound alright to you? The flowers carry the meaning and sunflowers bring enough brightness."

"I don't feel sorry but I'm trying to avoid dealing with someone's tantrum." It was the wife of a regular and they'd never gotten along so she knew better than to do anything that would have her knocking on the bar door demanding a one on one chat that would likely end in a screaming match.

The hallway smelled like lilies and floor wax, and Tyson had never wanted a cigarette more in his life, and regretted not smoking the one he took in the car. Not because he was craving the nicotine—though he was, always—but because it would’ve given him something to do. Something other than standing here in a goddamn starched shirt while the soft murmur of fake condolences and backhanded remarks filled the space like fog. The kind of noise that made your skin itch. The kind of noise you couldn't block out.

"I know she would be." Peyton spoke to his mother with slight defiance, unable to hide her own distaste for the woman who was all poise and perfection. A facade to impress the masses but she knew enough from being around her children to know that there were certain aspects of her life that were far from perfection.

" it can be, but it has its rewarding moments. i mean, how many people can really say they're recognized by their voice? " zehra gave a shrug of her shoulders, with the slight hint of a grin. " well, it depends. some months, more than the last. but it's always enough to keep a roof over my head and food in my belly. " which had always been saying something. given how she loved to snack, and snack often. " you got it! " she beamed, before she scribbled down the name of her podcast on a piece of paper. she ripped it from her notebook, then handed it over to peyton. " i've done a few episodes on the city so far. but most are either closed cases for a long time ago. or some unsolved mysteries. " all, of course, relating to murder in some degree. " it hadn't been too popular prior to a few years ago, yeah. there's a few popular names that were accredited for making it big. but some aren't really my thing. could be yours, though. there's so many different types out there. "

"Hold on, do people actually come up to you and ask if you're the one person who does this podcast?" She could understand the radio or maybe some tv hosts who had a particular voice, but maybe she couldn't comprehend just how big someone could be from a podcast. "I guess if you can pay whatever bills you have and live comfortably without having to do nothing else, and you like it, then you're already winning." Peyton didn't always love being a bar owner but she felt like she owed it to her father to keep it alive. "Interesting. Are you one of those people who were always interested in death because of the killer or because you want to tell the victims story? There isn't a bad answer, I guess— as long as you're not obsessed with the killers that you want to be their penpal and pick them up from prison once they're released."

Hayes, her brain supplied in the hollow space following the other's name and her mouth almost formed the word on impulse, but instead Elena pressed her lips into a line and her knuckles went white as she gripped the handle of the plastic basket harder. She nodded, gaze on anything but the woman in front of her, unable to really accept this was a first meeting--it couldn't be--but unwilling to argue about it anymore. She already unspooled enough of herself in front of this woman and whomever else was in earshot and embarrassing herself further was certainly not on the agenda.

Peyton couldn't help but nod her head in understanding. It wasn't the best interaction and neither of them had made the best impression. It was why she allowed the bluntness from the other to roll down her back— mainly because Peyton didn't believe she'd done anything wrong or had any reason to receive such a reaction so she suspected it was given more out of embarrassment. "Well, I won't stand in the way of you going home." Peyton added, indicating that they didn't need to continue this conversation any longer.

❧ open to all ❧ flor del sol

Peyton peered towards the woman who spoke, holding a few bouquets in her hands. "What bouquet would you send to someone who you believe you may have insulted?" It had been a quick run in at the store but she'd left feeling bad that perhaps she'd been harsh or a bit dismissive. Perhaps sending flowers was opening a bag of worms she should be putting to rest instead but she knew it was going to chew away at her if she didn't try to at least do something. She was convincing herself, at this point, that this was more for her than it was for the other person. "Like just a simple sorry. I'm thinking a small bouquet, right?"

the question had brought a smile to zehra's lips. a small ounce of humor that perhaps had only been held by herself. for did she not battle the constant questions of whether what she spoke on her podcast was true or not. while most of the cases were older. solved and closed long ago. some of them were more recent. a few being very present in the moment. wide open, and ripe for the picking. " i don't make up anything. i find the information, confirm it as fact. and relay it to my listeners. " she stated with ease, no offense in her tone at all. because it didn't bother her. not like it might some others. those that wished she were spewing false facts. " there's more freedom in what i do. i set my own hours, i choose how and when to release the information. i don't have to play by any rules. " she gave a shrug of her shoulders. for really, it couldn't be much better than this.

"That sounds like a lot of work. How much money do you make to provide people with this free information?" She didn't understand the concept but figured that it had to make a decent amount of money for someone to put that much energy into it. "You should write down the name of your podcast and I'll give it a listen to see what it's all about." Her head nodded in understanding at the fact of having freedom. It was why she enjoyed having her own business rather than working for someone else. If Peyton didn't want to face the masses, she could always lock the doors of the bar and stay in bed for one night despite it never happening, mainly due to the guilt she'd feel. "The podcast thing has gotten large only these last few years, right? I've always wondered why I hadn't heard of it before."

"I never said that." It was just surprising because Troy's connections and line of work gave him the advantage to recognize so many of the players in that world whenever he showed up to have a drink at her bar. She was surrounded by them, whether she realized it or not and he hated to think it would eventually catch up to her. Regardless of how little care Troy showed for his own life these days, the people he cared for still mattered and even though they weren't as close as they once had been; their mutual loss doing nothing but driving them apart, she still was in that group. "Tension will continue to rise. I'm overseeing some of these cases, Peyton, it's going to get worse. So don't let your guard down, okay?" If you ever need anything, wasn't said out loud but he hoped she understood he would help if she ever needed him. "Can I ask you something?"

Peyton knew the type of person she entertained when they stepped foot in the bar but she made sure to keep the business professional and nothing more. She didn't go home with people she didn't know and only listened to those who spoke rather than ask questions or share any information of her own. Her head, for the most part, stayed down. It had worked thus far but she wasn't naive to believe that her luck would continue. It was a matter of time that violence knocked on her door. "It's going to get a lot worse?" She questioned, head tilted to look him over. He was one of the few that she trusted to tell her the truth. "As long as you promise to take care of yourself as well." She added and then stopped cleaning the cup she had in hand, placing it down with the rag. "Yeah, of course you can." Something told her she'd regret telling him he could ask her but she was too curious now.

Damiano floated lazily on his back, only half-listening for the telltale clink of bottles that meant she hadn’t bailed on him. One eye cracked open when he heard her footsteps instead, heading back in his direction. He let his legs drift him back to the edge of the pool, where she was standing with a bottle of Grey Goose like she’d just raided a minibar she didn’t belong to.

Peyton tilted her head to side to side in consideration. "You'd have to win extra big in order to think of it that long." Something that would make the news or be legendary in some kind of sport. "I feel like there's less of a gamble these days. People don't put down a bet unless they know there's a good chance they're going to win and that takes the fun out of it."

Troy tilted his head to the side a Peyton admitted she felt as if nothing reached her. The bar was still in L.A., a city that was almost taken over by not just one but several criminal organizations. It was rather impressive, or perhaps gullible, to think that she felt so safe in her own bar. One of the few locations in town that remained unclaimed by any of the gangs. "Interesting. Can't say I need to the news to keep up with what's happening." His admission was said casually. He saw too many angles from it. "So you don't get anything weird or suspicious in here?"

Peyton looked over at him and then smiled. "I'm not an idiot if that's what you're hinting at." She knew of the war that was outside her door and how it could easily engulf the little space she had in town and kept as a safe haven. A lot of it had to do with the work and connections her father had made. He'd made sure it remained unclaimed by doing favors and getting close to the right people, so she was lucky that people in charge remembered it. But she knew it could all change and she would have to deal with it eventually. "There's always suspicion, and whispered confessions, and tension rising. But most people remember what my father did for them. I'm not saying it'll last forever— it's lucky that influence still holds today but I guess I'll figure it out when luck runs out."

Peyton's gaze flicked towards him as their fingers brushed, allowing the moment to hang in the air before she let it pass and focused back on the road. They had an history and the years had done little to make her forget when brief moments like this surfaced. She tipped the cigarette out the window and allowed the exhale to wash away any tension that lingered in her body.

Damiano watched her move like she didn’t owe anyone an apology for the space she took up—didn’t shrink, didn’t flinch. He liked that. Even with the glint of gold and skyline at their backs, she stayed rooted in something real. Boots, denim, bluntness—herself. This rooftop saw a lot of polish and pretense. Peyton was a welcome fracture in all that marble.

"That's a lot of pressure," she said as she eyed him, feeling a shiver run down her spine when she noted his eyes on her. She'd been around enough individuals to not flinch at them watching her every move, but there was an intensity to his gaze that was unlike many she'd met. Most likely because the gazes that found hers at the bar were often glazed over by alcohol.

" speaking from experience, most are very educational. and some are just for fun. " there had been a never ending list of podcasts, from those like her own. to ones that were just people chatting about their lives. or the latest gossip that amounted to bare minimum. some were on zehra's own listening list. while others she avoided like the plague. " most of it, yeah. i shift through the information that isn't relevant, or is just filler. then i speak of the details, the facts. what may or may not lead to the conclusion of it all. " the fire, the shooting. the information she garnered from the incident at the trailer park. " it does. in a way. " there had been a learning curve at first. but eventually, zehra understood how to make the most out of it .

peyton didn't know where to start with podcasts. she'd dabbled into the section of her spotify but often found herself overwhelmed and just went back to her country music playlist. with the bar, she made continuous decisions throughout the day so if she could avoid doing it, she would. even if it was a simple one like which show or podcast to consume. "is it all facts or are you making some of it up a bit?" maybe that was the whole point of listening because people did research that others didn't. "why didn't you become an investigator or something instead of just speaking into a mic?" not that she was judging, but she kind of was.

The spike in anxiety meant Elena's perception of events spiraled wildly out of control with a speed that left her grasping at smoke as it spun past her, each thought more disorienting than the last. The crux of it, however, was the pain of knowing someone while they insisted otherwise, a thought Elena herself tried to convince herself of in every minor interaction with this woman. No one. It may not have at all been what the woman meant, but the words hit like a gunshot. A brief, intense look of heartbreak twisted her features before she crushed it, schooling her expression to something perhaps indifferent-adjacent, a feat and a lie considering the way the beginnings of tears still tried to gather in her eyes.

In this moment right now, where they both stood within their lives, this conversation wasn't impactful. Their story had started and closed many years ago and Peyton could put money on the fact that Elena hadn't thought of her in the last decade. It was better off that way because she hadn't put much thought into it either. At least until they crossed paths in town without a word shared. It was only in fear that there may be a lingering resentment or some kind of unspoken truth that she ever decided to open the door and try at a conversation. Had she known that Elena hadn't been ignoring her, but had instead forgotten her, she wouldn't have bothered.

the pen within her hand was tapped against the notepad. before she gave a simple nod of her head, " that's a fair consideration. especially since you'd expect it to be in the newspaper. " though the word made her wonder, whether anyone even read the newspaper anymore? didn't everyone simply get their news online now? the thoughts soon slipped by, of whether newspaper would even be a thing in a few years. until she was drawn from her thoughts. as peyton listed off the potential careers that could be tacked on to zehra's name. a soft grin settled on her lips, " oh, no. i'm not any of those things. " well, not truthfully. she supposed in some way, her career and those blended together. " in some circumstances, i do. but that's not why i do it. " she stated, with a nod of her head. as if that confirmed it. " i have a podcast, and i track true crime. " she supposed there was no harm in putting that information out there. not when it seemed that the woman across from her wasn't like the others she'd stumbled across. or rather, was investigating .

peyton couldn't help but find interest in the word that had been told to her many times before. a few patrons here and there had told her that she should listen to a podcast while she served drinks or when she was alone, cleaning up. all followed up by an insult to the country music she often played when the bar was slow or they'd just opened. "I've been told I should listen to some podcasts but I'm new to that whole thing." She got the gist of it, but was still surprised to find there were different genres. "So all of this, everything happening in town right now, you're going to speak of it on this podcast of yours?" She'd never felt more older than she felt at this very moment. "And that pays the bills?"