[ FanFiction ] Bad Girls --Judgement
Title: Judgement
Author: fairytaleaddict
Fandom: Bad Girls
Pairing: Yvonne/Karen (Implied Yvonne/Colin, Karen/Jim)
Word Count: 4350
Rating: PG (cursing, alcohol, mentions of violence)
Spoilers: Set during season 5, with spoilers
Summary: An alternative take on Yvonne and Karen's fate, and Jim's devil luck.
Disclaimer: Characters and setting obviously don't belong to me if they did you'd never get them back but to Shed-productions
The light filtering through the blinds had turned from bright and light to the heavy golden blur from the streetlamps outside. It made the smoke look fuller and somehow it managed to make the bottom of her glass louder against the table top, although the latter might have just been from the amount of heaves.
Karen leaned back against the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. Bastard. She exhaled and watched the smoke make its way up against the dark, fatty trestles of hair clinging to the side of her face. What was the point anymore? She had vowed not to let him get away with this, but he was. She was going to jail and there was nothing she could do about it.
It took her a moment to locate the source of the sound. No bleeding wonder either. Everyone had given up on her. This was the first time someone had knocked on her door in ages. Even Ross thought she was guilty. Either that or she’d done such a good job raising him that he didn’t care if his mother went to jail. She didn’t bother with the peephole. She probably should have considering her situation but there really wasn’t much point anymore. She’d rather croak in her own flat then get shanked in the showers at HMP Whatever.
The fresh air flooded into the hallway as she opened the door and made her blink. The sight before her made her blink again and then she froze.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Her head was cocked to the side and a small smile played on her lips, but the lines on her face were harder than they had been last time Karen had seen her and her eyes had a different sort of spark, a more dangerous one. Something stirred inside of Karen and she thrust the door closed. Half closed. The girl was a lot stronger then she looked. “Wouldn’t look good if someone saw me standing outside your door, would it?” Her voice had hardened, so had her gaze and the familiarity of it softened Karen up.
“Like I’m not in enough shit as it is,” she snorted but turned to walk back into the corridor, raising her glass to take a sip, ash falling onto the carpet as she moved her hand. She could hear the door close behind her but she didn’t look back as she walked into the living room and poured another glass. “You are of age aren’t you?” She asked and handed the girl the glass. The absurdity wasn’t lost as thin lips curled into a grin and she took the offered glass.
“You look like shit,” the girl took a sip and then put the glass down, following Karen with her gaze as the blond threw herself back down onto the sofa and put her feet up on the coffee table.
“What do you want Lauren?” Karen sighed and took another drag before realizing her smoke was out and she put the rest out in an ashtray.
“You should answer your phone, it would have saved me the trip,” Lauren walked around the room, taking in her surroundings as if scoping the place out. Karen watched her for a moment before deciding she didn’t care enough to continue and turned to the open bottle on the table to freshen up her drink.
“Yeah, well,” she answered and took a long sip. “I’m not in a very social mood at the moment,” she looked up just to see Lauren turn towards her. It was eerie. In the span of two years the girl had turned into her mother.
“Mum sends her love.” The same smooth walk, same narrowing of the eyes and slight tilt of the head. Karen shivered.
“Tell her to keep it,” she dug around in the sofa behind the cushions until she found the opened pack of smokes and pulled one out, her fingers trembling slightly as she put it between her lips. “She’s going to need it with bastard Fenner around,” she spat and fumbled with her lighter. A flame broke out in front of her and Karen looked up. “Cheers,” she grumbled and leaned forward to catch a light from Lauren’s hand before leaning back and taking a deep drag.
“What a coincidence that you should mention him,” Lauren smiled and Karen squirmed. The room suddenly felt very cold.
“I don’t want to know.” Karen got up from her seat and turned her back to Lauren.
“Sure you do. He set you up; we’re going to set it right.”
Karen had reached the doorway before she turned around.
“What?” She lowered her smoke and Lauren took two steps towards her.
“Mum’s orders,” she explained calmly as she walked up to her. She reached for Karen’s pack and tapped it against the heel of her hand until the butt of a fag appeared and she slid it out.
Karen shook her head and took a step backwards.
“Look,” she held her hands up, suddenly finding she did care a bit. “I appreciate the offer but I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“Yeah?” Lauren looked up at her and raised a brow, fag suspended in mid air between her fingers. “You’d rather spend ten years in the nick? I got to tell you, I don’t know if even the VPU can keep a former governor alive in there,” she cocked her head to the side and Karen had to look away.
“What’s in it for you?” Karen steeled herself and met Lauren’s eye.
“I told you,” Lauren bent down to light her smoke, her pony tail falling over her leather clad shoulder but was tossed right back to its place as she straightened out and exhaled. “Mum sent me.”
Karen groaned into her hands as she pressed them hard against her face and closed eyes. She was too bloody drunk to be expected to wrap her mind around this absurdity.
“I need a shower.” She walked out of the room and Lauren didn’t answer her. She didn’t know if that was good or bad or what to expect to find when she got out. She had just started to come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t going to wake up and find this was all a bad dream but suddenly the notion didn’t seem so impossible. After all, Lauren Atkins was smoking in her living room, surely that had to be enough to justify the dream theory, or at the very least the insanity one. She was hoping for the former.
************
The constant chatter, forks, spoons, plates and packs of fags slamming against table tops, laughter, pills sliding between hands, shoes against concrete, slurping, sipping, kissing, groaning. It all became an endless blur of white noise after a while. But if she took a step back and let her gaze wander over the crowd she could make out the random bits and pieces of information that might become useful one day. Sometimes she did that. Right now, she couldn’t care enough to bother.
Leaning against the white steel bars, she took a drag of her smoke and let her gaze slide over the tables and the women talking with their mouths full. She didn’t care what they were saying or doing, not now. She was too fucking old to play this game, too worn to care.
“Not hungry?”
She felt Colin coming up beside her but didn’t bother turning her head to acknowledge him. All men were bastards but the worst ones pretended they weren’t.
“Any news about Betts?” She took another drag and her eyes narrowed as she finally caught sight of Fenner, man of the bleeding hour. Smug bastard. She didn’t blink as she followed him with her gaze. She wasn’t sure if he noticed or not but if he did, he didn’t show it.
“Let it go Yvonne,” he sighed and seemed a bit surprised when she finally turned to look at him.
“Let it go?” She lowered her smoke and felt a surge of triumph as he quickly glanced around.
“Look,” his breathing became just a bit faster and his gaze flickered around the room, “there’s nothing you can do, alright?”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, sir,” she took her time on the last vowel and pinned him with her gaze. He fidgeted and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was from nerves or arousal, probably a little bit of both. “And you’re going to help me,” she added and watched as the nerves ran head first over the finish line.
***********
Lauren was gone by the time she got out of the shower. She had checked the entire flat before a surge of relief flowed through her body. She had just imagined it. Then she stiffened again. Hallucinations weren’t something to be relieved about. She poured herself another drink and returned to her couch. Fuck it, maybe it would make her last days a little easier to bear.
***********
He couldn’t stand still, his nerves were clawing at him from inside, a voice in his head screaming at him to leave, to run and never look back. He held the envelope tight against his chest, the brown paper wrinkling from the pressure. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, why did she have to ask him to do this?
“Colin.”
He jumped.
“Jesus Christ,” he sighed as she stepped out of the shadows, a controlled lopsided smirk on her face, dark hair flowing freely down her back. He wiped the sweat off his brow and wished he hadn’t thought he could do without a fix tonight.
“You got it?” Her voice was calm; she moved with ease and watched him with a much too cynical gaze for a girl her age. He looked around, half expecting police sirens and people pointing at him and shouting. But no one paid them the slightest bit of attention. “Well?” She was growing impatient and he nodded.
“Yeah,” he handed her the envelope and scratched his arm, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. No sirens, no one even noticed the enormous and so obvious envelope. Why didn’t they notice? Why didn’t they see what it was? She put it in her purse and looked up at him.
“Good boy.”
He looked up with a frown and saw the resemblance. It was uncanny. The gaze, the smirk, the tilt of the head. So much like her mother. He shuddered. And then she was gone.
*************
“Lauren?” Standing beside the pay phone with her back against the wall she had view of the entire landing without looking like she was up to something.
“It’s not enough, there’s shit we can use, we need more to tie it together” her voice was frustrated in that controlled way that she’d picked up just around the day she killed her father.
“Shit,” Yvonne herself was too close to unravel to pull off the control. Too much was hanging on this, not just Betts’s freedom but her own fucking life. There was no time to panic, she had to think, had to calm herself enough to let her adrenaline fused mind be heard. “Follow him.”
“You think he’s dumb enough to do something now?” Lauren was sceptical, but she didn’t know Fenner.
“He can’t help himself.”
*******************
It seemed the only time she ever walked out her front door these days was to pick up another bottle of Scotch, a carton of smokes or something food like to chuck into the microwave. She’d stopped ordering take-out when the deliveryman started cracking jokes when she ordered what he called her regular. She didn’t like going outside. People would look at her like they were the ones that kept writing killer on the door to her flat.
She didn’t bother putting her glass down as she went to answer the ringing phone. Someone selling her air fresheners or mail-order socks no doubt.
“Yeah?” She took another sip of the liquid but as she looked up, she caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror and put the drink down.
“Ms. Betts?” She turned her back to the mirror and sighed. “It’s Larry Oldcastle, I’ve got fantastic news,” the voice on the other end sounded so excited she felt a tingle of the same entering her body.
“Yeah?” She asked, wondering if she dared to get her hopes up. Idiot lawyer was twenty-seven years old; they gave her a fucking kid.
“Karen?” He inquired after a moment. She had heard him speak but she hadn’t been able to understand him. “You still there?” She shook her head.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she rubbed her forehead and glanced at the drink.
“The prosecution has dropped all charges against you. You’re off the hook Karen, its over.”
She blinked.
“What? But… I don’t understand,” she shook her head and turned to look into the mirror again.
“You were right. About this Jim Fenner. He set you up. The police received some anonymous photos and bills for a storage unit. Whatever they found in there was enough to charge him for the lot.”
A warm wave washed over her and she dropped the phone to steady herself against the hallway dresser. Her body couldn’t decide between laughing or crying so it opted for both.
“Karen? Karen, you there?”
*********************
For the last three years she’d imagined everything she would do the second she was out of there. It always depended on her mood. Sometimes it was a nice steak dinner and a bottle of Champagne, other times it was a long scented bubble bath or a white sand beach with the bellboy on her lap. Now that she was standing there outside the gates of Larkhall with her bags in hand, her mind was completely blank. Thank god for Lauren.
“Welcome back.”
She was actually wearing a suit, her long dark hair pulled together in a tight pony tail on the back of her head. There was something reserved about the way she hugged her mother hello, bloody Godfather himself would have been proud.
“Let me look at you,” she said softly and took her daughter’s hands, looking her over with misty eyes. She could tell Lauren was uncomfortable; Yvonne was back being mummy and stirring her image up.
“Let’s get you home to a nice bath before the big party,” she grinned and opened the trunk of the car to help her with the luggage.
“Party?” Yvonne hoisted the last bag inside before they got into the car. She just wanted to go home, eat, relax, spend time with her little girl. All those choices she’d made on the inside, all those ideas about peace and quiet, a little place out on the country side in Spain or Greece crashed against her daughter’s slick appearance and the way she scanned her surroundings.
“A welcome home party for the head of the family,” Lauren did smile this time as she started up the car. “I guarantee you won’t be disappointed mum.” The playful grin brought some comfort to Yvonne as she watched Larkhall’s walls grow smaller and smaller with the distance.
************
It was such a pretty picture, especially after she’d spent some time looking through brochures and ads. “Beach villa in Southern Spain,” “Quaint cottage in Normandie,” not so much the latter though, she’d decided she wanted the beach. Warmth, sun, a drink in one hand, sun screen in the other.
She had talked to Lauren about retiring, about settling down somewhere just the two of them.
“What about the business?” Lauren had asked. “The money.” She was so much like her mother; no one had been able to talk her out of marrying Charlie when she was Lauren’s age if they’d tried.
She looked up at the bartended and nodded at her empty glass. He didn’t say a word as he filled it up for her and she took another sip.
“Leave the bottle,” she said and he obliged.
She was going to retire. Soon. Maybe she’d take Denny on a trip when she got out of Whitecross Open, get some perspective on things.
“This is an oddly familiar scene.”
The sound of the familiar voice made Yvonne turn and her eyes to widen.
“Scotch, neat,” she told the bartender and took a seat beside Yvonne. Pulling up her pack of smokes, she offered her one first.
“Cheers darlin’,” Yvonne smirked and Karen laughed before flicking the lighter open and reaching out to give her light.
Yvonne took a long drag and shook her head when the bartender came over with the glass and the bill.
“Put it on my tab,” she said and turned as she felt Karen about to object. “You bought last time,” she reminded her.
“Well, I think you paid for that by saving my ass,” Karen took a sip of her drink and flicked the ash from her fag into the tray.
“What are you on about?” She asked, her voice level over the rim of her glass. She jumped slightly as she felt a hand on her arm and couldn’t understand the reaction going down her spine.
“Thank you.”
She met Karen’s gaze and realized only then how Fenner had levelled the playing field between them. When she nodded her head, the hand was removed and she drowned the rest of the liquid in her glass.
“You heard he’s dead?” Karen asked and Yvonne didn’t need to ask who she was referring to.
“Prison is a dangerous place for a screw,” she nodded and poured herself another glass. She could feel Karen’s eyes on her and turned to face the question she knew was coming. She met her eye, but nothing came.
“He should have been more careful,” Karen said instead and Yvonne watched her finish her drink and pour another one while she let the changes in the woman’s morals sink in. If she hadn’t been such a realist to begin with it would have startled her to see this change in Karen off all people.
“How’s Ross?” She asked, twirling her glass slowly on the counter while her fag burned on its own in the tray.
“Last I heard he’d gotten a job at a trucking company,” Karen looked down into her drink and then took a long sip. “How’s Lauren?”
“She’s an Atkins,” Yvonne said after a long pause starring at her fag. She picked it up and took a final drag before putting it out and lighting a new one. “I’m thinking of getting a house by the beach,” she told her, not sure why. Karen would talk sense into her, tell her she couldn’t leave the country, remind her who she was and what she had chosen to do with her life.
Instead she said “that would be nice,” and asked about Denny.
When the first bottle was gone, they started on the second. When that was gone, they’d gotten past the topics of prison and children and everything else they knew they had in common.
It was after the second bottle that the sudden yearning began, after the safe and familiar, after the odd sense of comfort that comes with being robbed off all control and angst of choice. It seemed like a good enough way to explain the sudden need to lean closer when Karen lit her fag again, or holding the lighter hand to steady it. She wasn’t quite sure how to explain the long looks or the accidental brush against a leg, but she wasn’t going to bother with that right then. If push came to shove, there was always the alcohol to blame.
It seemed like an excellent idea when Karen invited her home for another drink. It’s what you do after the pub closes at night, isn’t it? Besides, there was always the alcohol to blame.
***************************
She hadn’t bothered turning the music on, she was too drunk and it felt wrong somehow, like it would create a different sort of mood that she didn’t think was appropriate.
She took her seat on the couch and sipped her drink, watching Yvonne take in her surroundings.
It had been six months, almost a year since Lauren had been in her flat, looking at her in the exact same way as Yvonne did now. But the shiver going through her was different now.
“You’ve no idea how relieved I am,” Yvonne moved slowly, a bit wobbly and sat down beside her, taking a sip of her drink.
“What are you on about?” Karen frowned and turned so she was facing her.
Yvonne nodded to the mess on Karen’s coffee table and then turned to look at her. “Messy flat and shit taste in men. Seems you are human after all,” she smirked and Karen rolled her eyes.
“Sod off,” she grinned and tossed her the pack of fags to help with the shutting up. “I’d hire a cleaning lady but nursing just about covers the bills,” she told her. “As for men, you’re one to talk.”
As she’d done all night, she leaned over to help Yvonne light her fag. Somehow it never occurred to her to just lend her the lighter. And she knew why as Yvonne bent forward and closed her hand over hers while inhaling.
“Yeah, well,” Yvonne took a drag but didn’t remove her hand and neither did Karen. “If you find that lezzy pill, you let me know,” she leaned back and their hands slid down on the sofa, fingers still touching but not moving. Karen didn’t dare look down, it was too surreal.
“You ever think it’s just not worth the trouble?” She asked after a moment of starring at the wall.
“All the time,” she heard Yvonne and felt a finger twitch over her own but she still didn’t move them.
“Then why’d you bother?” She turned to look at her and couldn’t help but smile at the look on her face.
“I really like sex,” Yvonne said simply and Karen chuckled.
“Yeah,” she agreed and nodded her head. For a moment after she couldn’t think of anything to say and the tension made her limbs itch to move.
“It’s weird. I never once thought of another woman as an option, it just, wasn’t one,” Yvonne started suddenly. She didn’t look at Karen as she spoke, leaving her profile free for observation. “It’s weird. I mean what three years worth of nights alone and lezzy friends can do with your mind,” she looked down into her drink and twirled the liquid around before taking a sip.
“Did you ever…” Karen started but trailed off when Yvonne shook her head quickly. She nodded her head. “It’s hard not to contemplate the idea when it’s all around you while you’re getting shafted by psycho bastards,” she agreed and looked down at her fag as Yvonne turned towards her.
“But you didn’t…” Yvonne started and Karen shook her head as quickly as she could.
The silence fell between them again and Karen battled furiously with her alcohol-pickled mind to come up with something to break the awkwardness, something to turn the car away from the edge of the cliff they were heading towards.
“Maybe we’d best…”
“I think I should…”
They both started and trailed off at the same time but the awkwardness was broken as they both started to chuckle at the absurd situation.
“I should go,” Yvonne decided then and Karen could only nod her head. She didn’t know what she wanted so she was glad Yvonne did.
“Thanks for the drink,” she said and stood up and swayed. “S” she added with a laugh as Yvonne grabbed hold of her arm to keep her steady.
“Might have been one too many, eh gov?” She asked with a grin that faded when Karen held onto her waist to keep her balance.
“Maybe one,” she agreed and looked back up from her feet. It seemed like the perfect excuse, the kind you’d always regret not using because it just lands in your lap begging to be taken advantage off. One too many or not, her lips were suddenly pressed against Yvonne’s, tentatively, awkwardly, drunkenly.
She didn’t know what she’d expected, probably nothing at all because expectations require forethought, but she was surprised when she felt Yvonne’s lips move against her own, searching at first, small, almost unnoticeable movements and then… A sudden burst of hormones made her lower stomach feel like an eruption as an arm wrapped around her and Yvonne’s tongue slid inn between her lips. She heard a groan and was sure it came from her until she felt another one tearing from her throat.
That’s when she lost her balance again and stumbled to. She caught her balance but while she did, the air changed irreversibly.
“I’d better go,” Yvonne wasn’t looking at her and after Karen had nodded her head she turned and walked around the sofa.
They didn’t look at each other until they’d reached the front door and Yvonne was standing in the doorway. Their eyes met once and Karen wasn’t sure which one of them looked away first but she did clear her throat and nod her head.
“It was good seeing you again Yvonne,” she said and felt an odd need to laugh.
“Yeah, I’ll see you around,” Yvonne looked down the street and then shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather coat. Karen nodded and watched her for a moment and it was right there, at the sight of the badly masked vulnerability that she finally realized the full extension of the vast difference between the situations their choices had put them in.
“Yvonne,” she spoke softly, “be careful.”
She could see the confusion flicker over Yvonne’s face for a moment before the words settled in and a sort of solemn resignation took over.
She didn’t say anything else before she turned and walked off down the street, leaving Karen to watch her in the light of the street lamps for a moment before closing the blue door behind her.
Author: fairytaleaddict
Fandom: Bad Girls
Pairing: Yvonne/Karen (Implied Yvonne/Colin, Karen/Jim)
Word Count: 4350
Rating: PG (cursing, alcohol, mentions of violence)
Spoilers: Set during season 5, with spoilers
Summary: An alternative take on Yvonne and Karen's fate, and Jim's devil luck.
Disclaimer: Characters and setting obviously don't belong to me if they did you'd never get them back but to Shed-productions
The light filtering through the blinds had turned from bright and light to the heavy golden blur from the streetlamps outside. It made the smoke look fuller and somehow it managed to make the bottom of her glass louder against the table top, although the latter might have just been from the amount of heaves.
Karen leaned back against the sofa and looked up at the ceiling. Bastard. She exhaled and watched the smoke make its way up against the dark, fatty trestles of hair clinging to the side of her face. What was the point anymore? She had vowed not to let him get away with this, but he was. She was going to jail and there was nothing she could do about it.
It took her a moment to locate the source of the sound. No bleeding wonder either. Everyone had given up on her. This was the first time someone had knocked on her door in ages. Even Ross thought she was guilty. Either that or she’d done such a good job raising him that he didn’t care if his mother went to jail. She didn’t bother with the peephole. She probably should have considering her situation but there really wasn’t much point anymore. She’d rather croak in her own flat then get shanked in the showers at HMP Whatever.
The fresh air flooded into the hallway as she opened the door and made her blink. The sight before her made her blink again and then she froze.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Her head was cocked to the side and a small smile played on her lips, but the lines on her face were harder than they had been last time Karen had seen her and her eyes had a different sort of spark, a more dangerous one. Something stirred inside of Karen and she thrust the door closed. Half closed. The girl was a lot stronger then she looked. “Wouldn’t look good if someone saw me standing outside your door, would it?” Her voice had hardened, so had her gaze and the familiarity of it softened Karen up.
“Like I’m not in enough shit as it is,” she snorted but turned to walk back into the corridor, raising her glass to take a sip, ash falling onto the carpet as she moved her hand. She could hear the door close behind her but she didn’t look back as she walked into the living room and poured another glass. “You are of age aren’t you?” She asked and handed the girl the glass. The absurdity wasn’t lost as thin lips curled into a grin and she took the offered glass.
“You look like shit,” the girl took a sip and then put the glass down, following Karen with her gaze as the blond threw herself back down onto the sofa and put her feet up on the coffee table.
“What do you want Lauren?” Karen sighed and took another drag before realizing her smoke was out and she put the rest out in an ashtray.
“You should answer your phone, it would have saved me the trip,” Lauren walked around the room, taking in her surroundings as if scoping the place out. Karen watched her for a moment before deciding she didn’t care enough to continue and turned to the open bottle on the table to freshen up her drink.
“Yeah, well,” she answered and took a long sip. “I’m not in a very social mood at the moment,” she looked up just to see Lauren turn towards her. It was eerie. In the span of two years the girl had turned into her mother.
“Mum sends her love.” The same smooth walk, same narrowing of the eyes and slight tilt of the head. Karen shivered.
“Tell her to keep it,” she dug around in the sofa behind the cushions until she found the opened pack of smokes and pulled one out, her fingers trembling slightly as she put it between her lips. “She’s going to need it with bastard Fenner around,” she spat and fumbled with her lighter. A flame broke out in front of her and Karen looked up. “Cheers,” she grumbled and leaned forward to catch a light from Lauren’s hand before leaning back and taking a deep drag.
“What a coincidence that you should mention him,” Lauren smiled and Karen squirmed. The room suddenly felt very cold.
“I don’t want to know.” Karen got up from her seat and turned her back to Lauren.
“Sure you do. He set you up; we’re going to set it right.”
Karen had reached the doorway before she turned around.
“What?” She lowered her smoke and Lauren took two steps towards her.
“Mum’s orders,” she explained calmly as she walked up to her. She reached for Karen’s pack and tapped it against the heel of her hand until the butt of a fag appeared and she slid it out.
Karen shook her head and took a step backwards.
“Look,” she held her hands up, suddenly finding she did care a bit. “I appreciate the offer but I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“Yeah?” Lauren looked up at her and raised a brow, fag suspended in mid air between her fingers. “You’d rather spend ten years in the nick? I got to tell you, I don’t know if even the VPU can keep a former governor alive in there,” she cocked her head to the side and Karen had to look away.
“What’s in it for you?” Karen steeled herself and met Lauren’s eye.
“I told you,” Lauren bent down to light her smoke, her pony tail falling over her leather clad shoulder but was tossed right back to its place as she straightened out and exhaled. “Mum sent me.”
Karen groaned into her hands as she pressed them hard against her face and closed eyes. She was too bloody drunk to be expected to wrap her mind around this absurdity.
“I need a shower.” She walked out of the room and Lauren didn’t answer her. She didn’t know if that was good or bad or what to expect to find when she got out. She had just started to come to terms with the fact that she wasn’t going to wake up and find this was all a bad dream but suddenly the notion didn’t seem so impossible. After all, Lauren Atkins was smoking in her living room, surely that had to be enough to justify the dream theory, or at the very least the insanity one. She was hoping for the former.
************
The constant chatter, forks, spoons, plates and packs of fags slamming against table tops, laughter, pills sliding between hands, shoes against concrete, slurping, sipping, kissing, groaning. It all became an endless blur of white noise after a while. But if she took a step back and let her gaze wander over the crowd she could make out the random bits and pieces of information that might become useful one day. Sometimes she did that. Right now, she couldn’t care enough to bother.
Leaning against the white steel bars, she took a drag of her smoke and let her gaze slide over the tables and the women talking with their mouths full. She didn’t care what they were saying or doing, not now. She was too fucking old to play this game, too worn to care.
“Not hungry?”
She felt Colin coming up beside her but didn’t bother turning her head to acknowledge him. All men were bastards but the worst ones pretended they weren’t.
“Any news about Betts?” She took another drag and her eyes narrowed as she finally caught sight of Fenner, man of the bleeding hour. Smug bastard. She didn’t blink as she followed him with her gaze. She wasn’t sure if he noticed or not but if he did, he didn’t show it.
“Let it go Yvonne,” he sighed and seemed a bit surprised when she finally turned to look at him.
“Let it go?” She lowered her smoke and felt a surge of triumph as he quickly glanced around.
“Look,” his breathing became just a bit faster and his gaze flickered around the room, “there’s nothing you can do, alright?”
“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, sir,” she took her time on the last vowel and pinned him with her gaze. He fidgeted and she wasn’t entirely sure if it was from nerves or arousal, probably a little bit of both. “And you’re going to help me,” she added and watched as the nerves ran head first over the finish line.
***********
Lauren was gone by the time she got out of the shower. She had checked the entire flat before a surge of relief flowed through her body. She had just imagined it. Then she stiffened again. Hallucinations weren’t something to be relieved about. She poured herself another drink and returned to her couch. Fuck it, maybe it would make her last days a little easier to bear.
***********
He couldn’t stand still, his nerves were clawing at him from inside, a voice in his head screaming at him to leave, to run and never look back. He held the envelope tight against his chest, the brown paper wrinkling from the pressure. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, why did she have to ask him to do this?
“Colin.”
He jumped.
“Jesus Christ,” he sighed as she stepped out of the shadows, a controlled lopsided smirk on her face, dark hair flowing freely down her back. He wiped the sweat off his brow and wished he hadn’t thought he could do without a fix tonight.
“You got it?” Her voice was calm; she moved with ease and watched him with a much too cynical gaze for a girl her age. He looked around, half expecting police sirens and people pointing at him and shouting. But no one paid them the slightest bit of attention. “Well?” She was growing impatient and he nodded.
“Yeah,” he handed her the envelope and scratched his arm, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. No sirens, no one even noticed the enormous and so obvious envelope. Why didn’t they notice? Why didn’t they see what it was? She put it in her purse and looked up at him.
“Good boy.”
He looked up with a frown and saw the resemblance. It was uncanny. The gaze, the smirk, the tilt of the head. So much like her mother. He shuddered. And then she was gone.
*************
“Lauren?” Standing beside the pay phone with her back against the wall she had view of the entire landing without looking like she was up to something.
“It’s not enough, there’s shit we can use, we need more to tie it together” her voice was frustrated in that controlled way that she’d picked up just around the day she killed her father.
“Shit,” Yvonne herself was too close to unravel to pull off the control. Too much was hanging on this, not just Betts’s freedom but her own fucking life. There was no time to panic, she had to think, had to calm herself enough to let her adrenaline fused mind be heard. “Follow him.”
“You think he’s dumb enough to do something now?” Lauren was sceptical, but she didn’t know Fenner.
“He can’t help himself.”
*******************
It seemed the only time she ever walked out her front door these days was to pick up another bottle of Scotch, a carton of smokes or something food like to chuck into the microwave. She’d stopped ordering take-out when the deliveryman started cracking jokes when she ordered what he called her regular. She didn’t like going outside. People would look at her like they were the ones that kept writing killer on the door to her flat.
She didn’t bother putting her glass down as she went to answer the ringing phone. Someone selling her air fresheners or mail-order socks no doubt.
“Yeah?” She took another sip of the liquid but as she looked up, she caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror and put the drink down.
“Ms. Betts?” She turned her back to the mirror and sighed. “It’s Larry Oldcastle, I’ve got fantastic news,” the voice on the other end sounded so excited she felt a tingle of the same entering her body.
“Yeah?” She asked, wondering if she dared to get her hopes up. Idiot lawyer was twenty-seven years old; they gave her a fucking kid.
“Karen?” He inquired after a moment. She had heard him speak but she hadn’t been able to understand him. “You still there?” She shook her head.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” she rubbed her forehead and glanced at the drink.
“The prosecution has dropped all charges against you. You’re off the hook Karen, its over.”
She blinked.
“What? But… I don’t understand,” she shook her head and turned to look into the mirror again.
“You were right. About this Jim Fenner. He set you up. The police received some anonymous photos and bills for a storage unit. Whatever they found in there was enough to charge him for the lot.”
A warm wave washed over her and she dropped the phone to steady herself against the hallway dresser. Her body couldn’t decide between laughing or crying so it opted for both.
“Karen? Karen, you there?”
*********************
For the last three years she’d imagined everything she would do the second she was out of there. It always depended on her mood. Sometimes it was a nice steak dinner and a bottle of Champagne, other times it was a long scented bubble bath or a white sand beach with the bellboy on her lap. Now that she was standing there outside the gates of Larkhall with her bags in hand, her mind was completely blank. Thank god for Lauren.
“Welcome back.”
She was actually wearing a suit, her long dark hair pulled together in a tight pony tail on the back of her head. There was something reserved about the way she hugged her mother hello, bloody Godfather himself would have been proud.
“Let me look at you,” she said softly and took her daughter’s hands, looking her over with misty eyes. She could tell Lauren was uncomfortable; Yvonne was back being mummy and stirring her image up.
“Let’s get you home to a nice bath before the big party,” she grinned and opened the trunk of the car to help her with the luggage.
“Party?” Yvonne hoisted the last bag inside before they got into the car. She just wanted to go home, eat, relax, spend time with her little girl. All those choices she’d made on the inside, all those ideas about peace and quiet, a little place out on the country side in Spain or Greece crashed against her daughter’s slick appearance and the way she scanned her surroundings.
“A welcome home party for the head of the family,” Lauren did smile this time as she started up the car. “I guarantee you won’t be disappointed mum.” The playful grin brought some comfort to Yvonne as she watched Larkhall’s walls grow smaller and smaller with the distance.
************
It was such a pretty picture, especially after she’d spent some time looking through brochures and ads. “Beach villa in Southern Spain,” “Quaint cottage in Normandie,” not so much the latter though, she’d decided she wanted the beach. Warmth, sun, a drink in one hand, sun screen in the other.
She had talked to Lauren about retiring, about settling down somewhere just the two of them.
“What about the business?” Lauren had asked. “The money.” She was so much like her mother; no one had been able to talk her out of marrying Charlie when she was Lauren’s age if they’d tried.
She looked up at the bartended and nodded at her empty glass. He didn’t say a word as he filled it up for her and she took another sip.
“Leave the bottle,” she said and he obliged.
She was going to retire. Soon. Maybe she’d take Denny on a trip when she got out of Whitecross Open, get some perspective on things.
“This is an oddly familiar scene.”
The sound of the familiar voice made Yvonne turn and her eyes to widen.
“Scotch, neat,” she told the bartender and took a seat beside Yvonne. Pulling up her pack of smokes, she offered her one first.
“Cheers darlin’,” Yvonne smirked and Karen laughed before flicking the lighter open and reaching out to give her light.
Yvonne took a long drag and shook her head when the bartender came over with the glass and the bill.
“Put it on my tab,” she said and turned as she felt Karen about to object. “You bought last time,” she reminded her.
“Well, I think you paid for that by saving my ass,” Karen took a sip of her drink and flicked the ash from her fag into the tray.
“What are you on about?” She asked, her voice level over the rim of her glass. She jumped slightly as she felt a hand on her arm and couldn’t understand the reaction going down her spine.
“Thank you.”
She met Karen’s gaze and realized only then how Fenner had levelled the playing field between them. When she nodded her head, the hand was removed and she drowned the rest of the liquid in her glass.
“You heard he’s dead?” Karen asked and Yvonne didn’t need to ask who she was referring to.
“Prison is a dangerous place for a screw,” she nodded and poured herself another glass. She could feel Karen’s eyes on her and turned to face the question she knew was coming. She met her eye, but nothing came.
“He should have been more careful,” Karen said instead and Yvonne watched her finish her drink and pour another one while she let the changes in the woman’s morals sink in. If she hadn’t been such a realist to begin with it would have startled her to see this change in Karen off all people.
“How’s Ross?” She asked, twirling her glass slowly on the counter while her fag burned on its own in the tray.
“Last I heard he’d gotten a job at a trucking company,” Karen looked down into her drink and then took a long sip. “How’s Lauren?”
“She’s an Atkins,” Yvonne said after a long pause starring at her fag. She picked it up and took a final drag before putting it out and lighting a new one. “I’m thinking of getting a house by the beach,” she told her, not sure why. Karen would talk sense into her, tell her she couldn’t leave the country, remind her who she was and what she had chosen to do with her life.
Instead she said “that would be nice,” and asked about Denny.
When the first bottle was gone, they started on the second. When that was gone, they’d gotten past the topics of prison and children and everything else they knew they had in common.
It was after the second bottle that the sudden yearning began, after the safe and familiar, after the odd sense of comfort that comes with being robbed off all control and angst of choice. It seemed like a good enough way to explain the sudden need to lean closer when Karen lit her fag again, or holding the lighter hand to steady it. She wasn’t quite sure how to explain the long looks or the accidental brush against a leg, but she wasn’t going to bother with that right then. If push came to shove, there was always the alcohol to blame.
It seemed like an excellent idea when Karen invited her home for another drink. It’s what you do after the pub closes at night, isn’t it? Besides, there was always the alcohol to blame.
***************************
She hadn’t bothered turning the music on, she was too drunk and it felt wrong somehow, like it would create a different sort of mood that she didn’t think was appropriate.
She took her seat on the couch and sipped her drink, watching Yvonne take in her surroundings.
It had been six months, almost a year since Lauren had been in her flat, looking at her in the exact same way as Yvonne did now. But the shiver going through her was different now.
“You’ve no idea how relieved I am,” Yvonne moved slowly, a bit wobbly and sat down beside her, taking a sip of her drink.
“What are you on about?” Karen frowned and turned so she was facing her.
Yvonne nodded to the mess on Karen’s coffee table and then turned to look at her. “Messy flat and shit taste in men. Seems you are human after all,” she smirked and Karen rolled her eyes.
“Sod off,” she grinned and tossed her the pack of fags to help with the shutting up. “I’d hire a cleaning lady but nursing just about covers the bills,” she told her. “As for men, you’re one to talk.”
As she’d done all night, she leaned over to help Yvonne light her fag. Somehow it never occurred to her to just lend her the lighter. And she knew why as Yvonne bent forward and closed her hand over hers while inhaling.
“Yeah, well,” Yvonne took a drag but didn’t remove her hand and neither did Karen. “If you find that lezzy pill, you let me know,” she leaned back and their hands slid down on the sofa, fingers still touching but not moving. Karen didn’t dare look down, it was too surreal.
“You ever think it’s just not worth the trouble?” She asked after a moment of starring at the wall.
“All the time,” she heard Yvonne and felt a finger twitch over her own but she still didn’t move them.
“Then why’d you bother?” She turned to look at her and couldn’t help but smile at the look on her face.
“I really like sex,” Yvonne said simply and Karen chuckled.
“Yeah,” she agreed and nodded her head. For a moment after she couldn’t think of anything to say and the tension made her limbs itch to move.
“It’s weird. I never once thought of another woman as an option, it just, wasn’t one,” Yvonne started suddenly. She didn’t look at Karen as she spoke, leaving her profile free for observation. “It’s weird. I mean what three years worth of nights alone and lezzy friends can do with your mind,” she looked down into her drink and twirled the liquid around before taking a sip.
“Did you ever…” Karen started but trailed off when Yvonne shook her head quickly. She nodded her head. “It’s hard not to contemplate the idea when it’s all around you while you’re getting shafted by psycho bastards,” she agreed and looked down at her fag as Yvonne turned towards her.
“But you didn’t…” Yvonne started and Karen shook her head as quickly as she could.
The silence fell between them again and Karen battled furiously with her alcohol-pickled mind to come up with something to break the awkwardness, something to turn the car away from the edge of the cliff they were heading towards.
“Maybe we’d best…”
“I think I should…”
They both started and trailed off at the same time but the awkwardness was broken as they both started to chuckle at the absurd situation.
“I should go,” Yvonne decided then and Karen could only nod her head. She didn’t know what she wanted so she was glad Yvonne did.
“Thanks for the drink,” she said and stood up and swayed. “S” she added with a laugh as Yvonne grabbed hold of her arm to keep her steady.
“Might have been one too many, eh gov?” She asked with a grin that faded when Karen held onto her waist to keep her balance.
“Maybe one,” she agreed and looked back up from her feet. It seemed like the perfect excuse, the kind you’d always regret not using because it just lands in your lap begging to be taken advantage off. One too many or not, her lips were suddenly pressed against Yvonne’s, tentatively, awkwardly, drunkenly.
She didn’t know what she’d expected, probably nothing at all because expectations require forethought, but she was surprised when she felt Yvonne’s lips move against her own, searching at first, small, almost unnoticeable movements and then… A sudden burst of hormones made her lower stomach feel like an eruption as an arm wrapped around her and Yvonne’s tongue slid inn between her lips. She heard a groan and was sure it came from her until she felt another one tearing from her throat.
That’s when she lost her balance again and stumbled to. She caught her balance but while she did, the air changed irreversibly.
“I’d better go,” Yvonne wasn’t looking at her and after Karen had nodded her head she turned and walked around the sofa.
They didn’t look at each other until they’d reached the front door and Yvonne was standing in the doorway. Their eyes met once and Karen wasn’t sure which one of them looked away first but she did clear her throat and nod her head.
“It was good seeing you again Yvonne,” she said and felt an odd need to laugh.
“Yeah, I’ll see you around,” Yvonne looked down the street and then shoved her hands into the pockets of her leather coat. Karen nodded and watched her for a moment and it was right there, at the sight of the badly masked vulnerability that she finally realized the full extension of the vast difference between the situations their choices had put them in.
“Yvonne,” she spoke softly, “be careful.”
She could see the confusion flicker over Yvonne’s face for a moment before the words settled in and a sort of solemn resignation took over.
She didn’t say anything else before she turned and walked off down the street, leaving Karen to watch her in the light of the street lamps for a moment before closing the blue door behind her.