Chocolate #19, Amaretto #25, Vinegar #27
Story: Blaze Mob Family
Title: The Worst Day of the Year
Prompts: Chocolate #19: solitude, Amaretto #25: memento, Vinegar #27: do not enter
Rating: PG
Characters: Firebird Blaze
Summary: This was one of the very first pieces I wrote to flesh out Firebird’s character, but I’ve been holding onto it until today. There are some days that are harder than others. For Firebird, that day is January 9th.
Paloma Blaze died on January 8th. She’d had a dizzy spell on New Years Day that she had attributed to her hangover from the night before. Then she’d collapsed that night, and Atlas had known that his wife wasn’t suffering from just a hangover. He took her to the hospital and she died seven days later. One of those freak illnesses, the doctors had said. Nothing they could do except make her death less painful. For her, at least. The husband and seven year old daughter she’d left behind had had nothing to dull their pain.
Atlas Blaze died on January 10th. The Lafayette Family that had controlled the half of the city north of the river had been making noise about expanding their territory but Atlas had brushed it off as the unimportant threat it should have been. No one expected the four Lafayette brothers to pull up in a car outside of the barbershop where Atlas had been getting his hair cut since he was a child and pump eight bullet drums from four Tommy guns into it. Atlas had died immediately, there one second and gone the next without even realizing it was his last moment.
Firebird’s grief for her parents had a very distinct cycle. For the majority of the year, she remembered them both fondly. She had more memories of her father, but her mother was still etched into her mind crystal clear. If she felt any regret at not having them with her, the thought could be easily marked as a futile thought and pushed aside to make way for more relevant matters.
It started going downhill on New Year’s Day. Firebird couldn’t help but think of her mother and that horrible time at the hospital that had felt like it had gone on forever and yet had taken her mother too quickly. On January 8th, Firebird made a point to go visit her mother’s grave with those that knew her and loved her. She needed her family with her then to remind her of what she still had as she grieved what she had lost.
The same went for January 10th. The number of people that visited Atlas’ grave with her was much greater, but she needed more people there because she’d gotten so much closer to her father in the decade longer they’d had together and grieved his pointless death harder. The weeks immediately after January 10th were hard too because then she thought of the tumultuous time when she’d had to cleanse her own family of traitors and destroy the Lafayette Family for their unforgiveable transgression, all while she was trying to step into Atlas’ shoes as Boss of the Blaze Family.
But the worst day by far was January 9th. The day between the two anniversaries of her parents’ deaths like two gruesome bookends wore her strength down and overwhelmed her composure. On January 9th, she didn’t want anyone to come around. For just this one day, her family was useless. Nothing they could say or do would change the fact that Firebird had lost the two people she had loved most long before she should have.
On January 9th, Firebird did everything that she had to as the Boss of one of the most important families in the country, illegal or otherwise. She was as efficient as always, making sure that the Blaze Family was running smoothly like the well-oiled machine it had become. She did everything she was supposed to, but when her work day was finished she declined any social invitations she’d received and went home. She dismissed Paul and didn’t call a lover or friend to entertain her like she normally would. She went upstairs to the work study that her family had spent so much time together in and shut the door to the world. She’d made a point to redecorate it enough so that it wasn’t a tomb for either of her parents, but she’d kept a few key things the same.
Like the record player that was stocked with her mother’s record collection. Paloma had fulfilled her dreams and moved beyond the smoky bars and canned music after she’d married Atlas. He’d bought a record company specifically so Paloma could write and sing her own music. She’d made two records before she’d died. Firebird put one of those records on now, the one that she remembered her mother singing to her to get her child’s opinion.
Like the big desk and chair that Papa B had bought Atlas after he’d named him the new head of the family. Atlas had worked his whole life to become Boss Blaze, and Papa B had been so confident that his oldest son could handle it that Papa B had retired early and left for a six month vacation. Firebird sat down in the chair that was still too big for her much smaller frame and opened the bottom right drawer where Atlas had always kept a bottle of his favorite whiskey. He’d given her her first drink here, and she’d coughed for a minute straight afterwards while he’d laughed his head off.
Firebird lifted the bottle to her lips and drank deeply, a cough nowhere in sight now. She’d grown up, matured, filled her father’s shoes and met her mother’s expectations. There was no one in the family or outside of it that could say Firebird was a disappointment or that she didn’t deserve her namesake.
But as the tears she’d barely managed to keep control over all day finally slid down Firebird’s cheeks, she knew that it didn’t matter how much time passed or how mature she got.
January 9th was always going to be the worst day of the year.
Title: The Worst Day of the Year
Prompts: Chocolate #19: solitude, Amaretto #25: memento, Vinegar #27: do not enter
Rating: PG
Characters: Firebird Blaze
Summary: This was one of the very first pieces I wrote to flesh out Firebird’s character, but I’ve been holding onto it until today. There are some days that are harder than others. For Firebird, that day is January 9th.
Paloma Blaze died on January 8th. She’d had a dizzy spell on New Years Day that she had attributed to her hangover from the night before. Then she’d collapsed that night, and Atlas had known that his wife wasn’t suffering from just a hangover. He took her to the hospital and she died seven days later. One of those freak illnesses, the doctors had said. Nothing they could do except make her death less painful. For her, at least. The husband and seven year old daughter she’d left behind had had nothing to dull their pain.
Atlas Blaze died on January 10th. The Lafayette Family that had controlled the half of the city north of the river had been making noise about expanding their territory but Atlas had brushed it off as the unimportant threat it should have been. No one expected the four Lafayette brothers to pull up in a car outside of the barbershop where Atlas had been getting his hair cut since he was a child and pump eight bullet drums from four Tommy guns into it. Atlas had died immediately, there one second and gone the next without even realizing it was his last moment.
Firebird’s grief for her parents had a very distinct cycle. For the majority of the year, she remembered them both fondly. She had more memories of her father, but her mother was still etched into her mind crystal clear. If she felt any regret at not having them with her, the thought could be easily marked as a futile thought and pushed aside to make way for more relevant matters.
It started going downhill on New Year’s Day. Firebird couldn’t help but think of her mother and that horrible time at the hospital that had felt like it had gone on forever and yet had taken her mother too quickly. On January 8th, Firebird made a point to go visit her mother’s grave with those that knew her and loved her. She needed her family with her then to remind her of what she still had as she grieved what she had lost.
The same went for January 10th. The number of people that visited Atlas’ grave with her was much greater, but she needed more people there because she’d gotten so much closer to her father in the decade longer they’d had together and grieved his pointless death harder. The weeks immediately after January 10th were hard too because then she thought of the tumultuous time when she’d had to cleanse her own family of traitors and destroy the Lafayette Family for their unforgiveable transgression, all while she was trying to step into Atlas’ shoes as Boss of the Blaze Family.
But the worst day by far was January 9th. The day between the two anniversaries of her parents’ deaths like two gruesome bookends wore her strength down and overwhelmed her composure. On January 9th, she didn’t want anyone to come around. For just this one day, her family was useless. Nothing they could say or do would change the fact that Firebird had lost the two people she had loved most long before she should have.
On January 9th, Firebird did everything that she had to as the Boss of one of the most important families in the country, illegal or otherwise. She was as efficient as always, making sure that the Blaze Family was running smoothly like the well-oiled machine it had become. She did everything she was supposed to, but when her work day was finished she declined any social invitations she’d received and went home. She dismissed Paul and didn’t call a lover or friend to entertain her like she normally would. She went upstairs to the work study that her family had spent so much time together in and shut the door to the world. She’d made a point to redecorate it enough so that it wasn’t a tomb for either of her parents, but she’d kept a few key things the same.
Like the record player that was stocked with her mother’s record collection. Paloma had fulfilled her dreams and moved beyond the smoky bars and canned music after she’d married Atlas. He’d bought a record company specifically so Paloma could write and sing her own music. She’d made two records before she’d died. Firebird put one of those records on now, the one that she remembered her mother singing to her to get her child’s opinion.
Like the big desk and chair that Papa B had bought Atlas after he’d named him the new head of the family. Atlas had worked his whole life to become Boss Blaze, and Papa B had been so confident that his oldest son could handle it that Papa B had retired early and left for a six month vacation. Firebird sat down in the chair that was still too big for her much smaller frame and opened the bottom right drawer where Atlas had always kept a bottle of his favorite whiskey. He’d given her her first drink here, and she’d coughed for a minute straight afterwards while he’d laughed his head off.
Firebird lifted the bottle to her lips and drank deeply, a cough nowhere in sight now. She’d grown up, matured, filled her father’s shoes and met her mother’s expectations. There was no one in the family or outside of it that could say Firebird was a disappointment or that she didn’t deserve her namesake.
But as the tears she’d barely managed to keep control over all day finally slid down Firebird’s cheeks, she knew that it didn’t matter how much time passed or how mature she got.
January 9th was always going to be the worst day of the year.