New York, New York
New York City was under quite the deluge when we arrived. The rain fell in heavy sheets, blown almost horizontal by the wind whipping down the steel and concrete canyons. At the airport, Faith had closed her eyes and pointed at a large display of hotel advertisements, and somehow, I wasn't surprised at all that her 'random' choice landed on a
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"You may recall," I retorted, smiling, "that I moved to Southern California some years ago. I've actually come to like good weather."
I watched Faith deliberate with no small amount of amusement. It would be very interesting to see what she decided upon. Of course, I'd become the doting Watcher, and whatever it would be, it'd happen.
"Broadway show..."
Well, that was unexpected.
"That black and white girl... the one in the fishnets? And the way skimpy outfit? What's it called... Chicago! Yeah, is that one any good? It's got some hot looking babes in it, at least."
Smiling again, I started to walk away from the window toward the small writing desk here in the main room.
"Actually, Chicago's an excellent show. In fact, I think you'll enjoy it quite a bit. And yes, it's known as well for being a bit more risque and feature rather attractive dancers."
"It's a good thing we both seem to have the same taste in women," I noted as I sat down, reaching for the telephone and dialing the concierge. It took only a few moments to make the arrangements.
"Three hours until showtime," I told Faith. "Just enough to have some dinner. Hopefully we can assemble a suitable theatre outfit from what we've brought with us."
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Yeah, whatever, Wes. I was betting there was some part of him that had never really fit into L.A. and still wanted to go back to England. Huh. That was a possibility if New York didn't like me much, I suppose.
Well, it might be more difficult to leave the fucking country if you're a fugitive than just skip town, though...
"Actually, Chicago's an excellent show. In fact, I think you'll enjoy it quite a bit. And yes, it's known as well for being a bit more risque and feature rather attractive dancers."
"Cool," I said, grinning. Hot half-naked dancers? Hey, almost like I was back in Vegas. Well, without the whole interaction shit, but I'd take what I could get.
"It's a good thing we both seem to have the same taste in women," Wes said and I frowned, walking up to him. "Wait, what the hell is that supposed to mean?" Was he talking about B? Cuz it was no fucking secret that he'd wanted us both... I wasn't fucking blind.
"Hopefully we can assemble a suitable theatre outfit from what we've brought with us."
"No, wait, hold on a sec, Wes," I pressed. "What the fuck were you talking about just now? Cuz really, I think I deserve a clarification."
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I blinked. What was she talking about?
"No, wait, hold on a sec, Wes... What the fuck were you talking about just now? Cuz really, I think I deserve a clarification."
It took a few seconds before I finally tumbled to what Faith was going on about. I shook my head and spread my hands in as innocent and unassuming a position as I could adopt.
"It was an offhand comment, Faith, I honestly didn't mean anything by it. It's really not something I gave a thought to-- just a joke. A bad one, apparently."
I crossed the suite and stepped behind the wet bar, searching through the bottles for a few moments before finding an acceptable scotch. Setting out a tumbler, I poured out two or three fingers, and took a sip.
A thought occurred to me then, an insane one, I thought, but it wouldn't go away. Studying Faith, I wondered if it would be all that wise to bring the idea up. But then, so little of this was wise and well-thought out, that it would be just the thing to do.
"Why the clarification, Faith? That couldn't be jealousy talking, could it?"
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"Oh," I said, calming down a bit, and running a hand through my hair as I sat back down on the edge of the bed. "Look, sorry, Wes, I'm still..." I looked out the window at the rain pouring down.
"Nothing."
Wes went and got a drink for himself, but not me - gee, thanks, asshole - then gave me the weirdest fucking expression.
"What?" I asked as I pulled my denim jacket off and tossed it on the ground.
"Why the clarification, Faith? That couldn't be jealousy talking, could it?"
"Oh... fuck you, Wes!" I practically yelled at him as I stood up and marched over to him, jabbing a finger in his chest and ready to fucking kick his ass in a sec. "How dare you ask me that? After all the shit in the plane that went on and..." I walked back to my jacket and found my cigs, pulling one out and lighting up quickly to calm me down before I seriously did any bodily injury to Wes.
I took a quick drag and laughed before adding my own little jab back at him. "Why you asking, Wes? You couldn't possibly be jealous, could you, not like, fucking ever!" I paused before twisting the knife.
"Not like I was fucking people or shit while you were off in L.A. telling me to behave or anything or... oh, wait. I was."
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Faith seemed chastened entirely by my explanation, which I suppose, in retrospect was a very good thing. And if I'd been wise enough to leave well enough alone at that point, things would have gone a hell of a lot more smoothly than they were going to.
But then, if I were a wiser man ahead of time, I wouldn't be exactly who I was at the moment, and neither Faith nor myself would be here, in this city, in this room, for better or worse.
And so, I recieved the entirely deserved wrath for my foolish words.
"Oh... fuck you, Wes! How dare you ask me that? After all the shit in the plane that went on and..."
Faith paused to light a cigarette, and I used the moment to throw back the remainder of my scotch.
"What about what happened on the plane, Faith? Was it just fucking, and getting off on each other, or was there something different about it? I'm actually going to be honest with you and say that I don't know."
The question at hand was whether it would ever be just fucking for us, with the tangled web of unfinished business and unsanswered questions tying us together.
"Why you asking, Wes? You couldn't possibly be jealous, could you, not like, fucking ever! Not like I was fucking people or shit while you were off in L.A. telling me to behave or anything or... oh, wait. I was."
Seething, I took bottle and tumbler and took one step toward Faith. As an afterthought, I pulled a second glass off the shelf, and set it down heavily in front of Faith before pouring for both of us.
"We're going to need this," I muttered.
I took a long drink then glared at Faith.
"The blonde from the strip club, and then the bar-- the one who recognized you. She didn't recognize you from the night before. You picked her up while I was gone and fucked her, then?"
It wasn't as if I hadn't already deduced as such, but to have it thrown in my face was something else entirely. I took a long deep breath to decide how I felt about the idea.
"Did you care about her?" I asked quietly. "I know we agreed that she looked like Buffy. Was it a close enough resemblance that you actually cared for the girl? Because, if you did," I said angrily, through grit teeth.
I forced myself to calm. "If you did," I repeated more quietly, "then yes, I think I might find myself jealous. If she didn't mean a thing to you, then she doesn't to me. If not..."
I could only shrug. I couldn't finish the thought. What in all the bloody hell was I saying here? What was I admitting?
And what was Faith going to do about it?
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I should've just said I don't know either, except I fucking knew better. It had been more, only I wasn't sure exactly what it had been. I'd let him hurt me, and I'd wanted more of it, more pain, more tears... and I wanted Wes to be the one to do it. Didn't really fucking know why... to make me feel less guilty about hurting him? The torture shit?
"It wasn't just fucking," was all I said as I took another drag, watching the rain pour.
"We're going to need this," Wes said as I took the glass he gave me and poured some of whatever the hell he was drinking for myself.
"The blonde from the strip club, and then the bar-- the one who recognized you. She didn't recognize you from the night before. You picked her up while I was gone and fucked her, then?"
I couldn't look him in the eye, so I just looked at my drink instead. "Yeah. Hey, you know me Wes. I never change," I said quietly as I downed the whole thing fast and almost coughed it all back up.
"Did you care about her?"
"What?" This time I looked right at him, and his eyes were like fucking daggers. What was he going on about?
"I know we agreed that she looked like Buffy. Was it a close enough resemblance that you actually cared for the girl? Because, if you did... if you did, then yes, I think I might find myself jealous. If she didn't mean a thing to you, then she doesn't to me. If not..."
"Oh, fuck," I whispered as I poured myself another drink, figuring we'd be here forever now, talking and shit, and there'd be no Broadway show for me tonight. "Wes you don't wanna go there," I warned him. "You don't wanna know what goes on in my head when it comes to shit like that, ok?"
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I nodded, sipping at my drink.
"No, it wasn't," I agreed, and let the implications hang as heavy in the air as the accusations, the anger and the recriminations.
"Yeah. Hey, you know me Wes. I never change."
Looking at Faith over the rim of my glass, I shook my head. Was she really so blind about herself? Did she honestly see no difference between the ne'er-do-well street urchin, the unstable and homicidal woman and the matured and reformed Faith she was now? God, if she did, how little I really knew.
"Bullshit," was my terse reply, but I wondered if Faith even heard.
"Oh, fuck... Wes you don't wanna go there... You don't wanna know what goes on in my head when it comes to shit like that, ok?"
"Why not?" I snapped back. "Why the hell not? I've told you the truth, Faith-- if you'd cared for the girl, I would be jealous, and I can't say it any plainer."
Finally, I strode across the carpet to close within just a foot or two of her.
"I want to know, Faith, because I want to know you. I've always made that clear. And I want to know if the roles were reversed, how would you feel? Tell me."
"Tell me," I repeated quietly.
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I took another drag, then poured another glass for me, deciding that it was high time I get drunk. We were talking about shit I didn't wanna talk about now.
"Why not? Why the hell not? I've told you the truth, Faith-- if you'd cared for the girl, I would be jealous, and I can't say it any plainer."
I looked up at him as I downed another glass of the shit he was drinking, watching the anger just fucking build in him till he practically stormed over to me and was yelling. "Wes... don't..."
He was fucking scary right now, and I'm sure he heard my heart speeding up for him.
"I want to know, Faith, because I want to know you. I've always made that clear. And I want to know if the roles were reversed, how would you feel? Tell me... tell me."
I stood up to face him down as best as I could. "Look, Wes you wanna know the truth? Didn't give a fuck about that girl, but I've always cared about B, and you fucking know that better than anyone! So, yeah. In some fucked-up way, maybe I did care about her, cuz I've been fucking girls that looked like her all... my... life."
I took another step closer to him.
"And guess what, Wes? If I found out you'd fucked someone else - whether you cared about her or not - I'd fucking stab her in the throat and then go after you," I whispered before looking away from his scary-ass eyes.
"Makes me a hypocrite, but there. Now you know."
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