The Reward
The Reward, Ten/Rose, T
I could afford to go without a job for a couple of days and still be able to pay Martha’s wages at the end of the week. A bit of a breather couldn’t do any harm, but it’s not really what I’m used to. I like to keep myself busy, to keep moving., 3208
“Here, guv, this should help,” Martha said, her voice a little too cheerful and much too loud for my liking. She did bring a cup of tea, though, darker than her skin and stronger than anything the café around the corner had on offer. Sometimes I wondered if a brew that strong was legal, but on a morning like this I couldn’t care less. I took the chipped mug from her, wrapping my fingers around the hot ceramic.
“Cheers, Martha.” My voice was raspy from a night out at Noble’s, my favourite haunt. I’d just finished a case. It wasn’t very satisfying, but I’d cashed the cheque and that more than made up for it. Plucking the cigarette from my bottom lip, I drank deeply from the tea. After only one sip I felt more invigorated than after a good night’s sleep.
“Anything new come in while I was away?” Even my voice returned to normal thanks to her her blessed brew.
“No.”
“Ah.” I took another sip. Even some spoilt brat’s missing dog was preferable to the endless boredom of staring at the stubbornly quiet telephone. Well, at least I hadn’t spent all my earnings on Donna’s finest whisky. I could afford to go without a job for a couple of days and still be able to pay Martha’s wages at the end of the week. A bit of a breather couldn’t do any harm, but it’s not really what I’m used to. I like to keep myself busy, to keep moving. Having too much time on my hands makes me edgy and that’s when I tend to think too much. I don’t like thinking about the past, which is why I’ve never been good with paper work. But since I’m my own man I can do without that very well.
“I’ll just…” Martha said, pointing at the door behind her. I had no idea what she was referring to, but I could do with a little alone-time. At least until I’d finished the first cup of tea. There was something in her huge dark eyes that made me uncomfortable, but I was unable to put my finger on it. She seemed to be about to say something but eventually she turned around and left, her lips pressed tightly together.
“Yeah,” I said, drawing out the sound, looking away at the empty filing cabinet. It’s just for show. Well, except for the one drawer. Well, two drawers, actually. One’s for the booze, the other for a fresh shirt. I’ve no idea if the fresh shirt is in there; I’m pretty sure about the booze, though.
As Martha left, I leaned back in my chair and put my feet up on the desk. A bit of a shut-eye couldn’t hurt even though I don’t need much sleep.
I must’ve dozed off eventually because the shrill ring of the telephone jerked me away from the smug grin of the one face I hated most in the world. It was also the one face that kept me going. It gave me the feeling of not being alone. As long as I had Harold Saxon to chase - and he was behind every single crime in this city - I’d never be out of a job.
“Guv?” Martha said after I’d picked up the receiver. “You’d better come out here.” Martha was never one to sound anxious but as she gave me the message, I could feel the familiar thrill of anticipation tingle along my spine. Nothing good has ever come of it, but I certainly enjoyed it.
“Molto bene,” I said, finishing the lukewarm tea. I put on my specs and tucked a fag into the corner of my mouth.
When I stepped into the outer office, Martha was staring down a nearly bald, dark man. He wasn’t much older than her, and if I’d stood there a while longer I’d have found out if his scowl could outlast her glare. Hardly anyone could get past her.
“Mornin’,” I said, plucking the cigarette from my mouth.
“You Doc Smith?” the chap asked. The collar of his leather jacket was drawn up, and his jeans suggested the tough type. He was someone’s muscle. It was hard to suppress the bounce that tickled my toes.
“Actually, I’m called the Doctor.”
The chap sneered. “You certainly got the brainy specs.”
“Yep, that’s me.”
“My boss needs your help. Asked for you, in fact,” he said, giving me an appraising look.
“What if I’m busy?”
“With what? Sampling Miss Noble’s finest?”
“Recreational Trigonometry.”
He stared, then he guffawed. “I sure know why the boss’s chosen you.”
“I haven’t agreed yet.”
“You will, guv. Trust me on that.”
“Oh,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Pete Tyler’s your boss.” It wasn’t a question. There was only one man who’d use that phrase. Pete Tyler ran Vitex, one of the most powerful companies in the country. He was an influential man, and I wondered why he’d ask for my help. Well, of course I was good, the best. But he usually had his own people to deal with the tough stuff.
The chap scowled, obviously annoyed that I’d seen through the weakness of his mysterious façade so quickly. But then his expression went softer, and I realised that there was more.
“We’d better discuss this in my office, Mister…?”
“Smith, Mickey Smith.”
“Right. Martha, we’ll need some tea. Or is it coffee?” Martha, still standing behind her desk, had relaxed somewhat and moved towards the small kitchenette tucked away behind the hat-stand.
“I’m not going to stay that long, Doc.”
“Well, Rickey, what can I do for you?”
“Actually, what can you do for my boss?”
“I won’t know unless you tell me what the job is, will I?” I asked, leaning against the door frame, tucking my hands into the depths of my trousers.
Mickey scowled. “He’s in trouble. He needs some hard facts that will get him out of it.”
“Harder facts than those?” I asked, glancing pointedly at his fists.
“That’s why I’m here, aren’t I, you skinny streak of nothing.”
I guffawed. I must admit I liked him. “You’ll need to give me more than that.”
“Be at Vito’s tonight, eight o’clock sharp. Wear a tie.” He gave me that appraising glance again. I admit my pinstripes were a bit rumpled and I could do with a fresh shirt - must check that drawer - but it wasn’t too bad.
“I’ll be there.” The words had left my mouth before I could stop myself. The enigma that was Pete Tyler was too intriguing; I can’t resist a decent mystery. Mickey grinned, baring two rows of brilliant white teeth when he realised he’d gotten me after all.
-:-
The first thing I noticed about the girl were her legs, and as my eyes travelled north I took in her curves. They were in all the right places and the pale pink dress she was wearing made her one of most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Although her face was hidden by carefully coiffed blonde curls she seemed nervous and was clearly waiting for someone as she stood just outside Vito’s. I was almost on time but as I hurried past I noticed her stiffen at the sight of a car driving by. I whirled around just in time to see the dark car pull up at the curb and the door open before it had even come to a halt.
I knew immediately that the girl was in trouble. Tyler would wait, I needed to help that pink and yellow girl first. I started towards her, grabbed her hand and shouted, “Run!” To my surprise, she did just that, following me swiftly despite her high heels - they were pointy enough to cause serious injury. Her blonde curls bobbed as I pulled her around the corner of the building. Reaching the next street corner, I hailed a cab and ushered her into the black vehicle as soon as it pulled up. She flopped down unceremoniously in the seat next to me, catching her breath. As she pushed her hair out of her face I saw her full, fiery lips and the rush of excitement in her amber eyes. I recognised her immediately. This was Rose Tyler, Vitex heiress and Pete Tyler’s daughter. She was Mickey’s boss. I should have realised it when Mickey hadn’t acknowledged that my guess had been nearly right.
“Thank you,” she panted, smiling. One would think she’d be terrified, but Rose Tyler seemed excited and glad for the escape. “Doctor.”
“Doctor who?” I couldn’t resist.
“Jus’… the Doctor, innit?”
“That’s me,” I grinned. “Nice to meet you, Miss Tyler.”
“Rose.”
“Where to, guv?” the cabbie asked, seeking my attention via the rear-view mirror.
I looked at Rose.
“Westminster Bridge.”
I raised my eyebrow at her choice.
“What happened to the date at Vito’s?” I asked.
“It’s not a date,” she pointed out. “Dad isn’t really in a position to go out much these days.”
“Clever man.”
“Will you help us, Doctor?” Rose asked. I couldn’t help looking at her full lips as she spoke. They were dark in the dim light of the taxi and I wondered what it would be like to be kissing them. It wasn’t an entirely welcome thought. I appreciated beautiful women as much as the next man but I’d decided to take myself off the market. My job didn’t make me dating material, plus I didn’t really do domestic. I just wasn’t cut out for it.
“Us?”
“My Dad has gotten into trouble with some of his business. If word gets out, the whole of Vitex could collapse. And you know what that means.”
“Yeah.” Vitex was entirely too powerful for my tastes but at least Pete Tyler seemed the decent type, the type to avoid major corruption and other business-related crime.
“Someone has found some files that suggest he’s a fraud. That he had murdered John Lumic to take over the empire himself,” Rose explained. She opened the tiny little handbag that I hadn’t noticed until then. My gaze travelled the length of her legs; they were covered in black silk stockings and cupped in those impossible high heels on which she had somehow managed to run. Rose Tyler certainly was a special girl.
She produced a small package from her handbag, which I took without a second glance and tucked into one of my pockets. Then she gave me a business card with a phone number written in loopy handwriting on the back. “It’s my private extension at the mansion. Call me any time.” She signalled for the cabbie to stop, and before I knew it, she had pressed a couple of notes into his waiting palm. “Take the gentleman to the TARDIS Estate.”
Before I could say anything else, she disappeared into the gloomy London night. Thick swathes of mist were rising from the Thames. We had reached Westminster Bridge, where, I supposed, she’d meet with a driver of her own, possibly Mickey.
-:-
“Hey Doc,” the American drawled. “Long time no see.” He turned around where he’d been sheltering under Waterloo Bridge. The booksellers had long since left, the foggy air poison to their wares. He was wearing his long military coat, and the thin light of the lamp was glistened on his jet-black hair.
“Can’t be long enough,” I grumbled, giving my umbrella a swirl. Jack Harkness made me uncomfortable for many reasons, but in this case I couldn’t do without him. He was worked for the shadowy Torchwood Institute, whose methods I found more than a little questionable. What made it worthwhile was the thought of helping Rose rather than the satisfaction of a case successfully closed.
“Aw, and there I thought you were happy to see me.”
“I’m always happy to see… never mind.” I’d been about to say the back of you, but in Jack’s case that was adding fuel to the fire. He grinned broadly.
“Can you get me information on this?” I asked, handing him a folded note on which I had listed documents I needed to prove Pete Tyler’s innocence. With a bit of luck, those same files would throw a spanner in Harold Saxon’s works. Dealing with him was always tricky, but he’d walked away from our last encounter with that triumphant grin. I was desperate for something that would wipe that smug look off his face. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my coat.
“Sure, Doc. What’s in it for me?”
“Parking tickets.” I knew he had quite a few of those, unpaid, at the Yard, and I had a contact that owed me a favour.
“And a dozen of Noble’s finest.”
“What?”
He grinned cheekily at me. I’d known the price would be high, but asking for a case was preposterous.
“You know my price, Doc.”
“I know what you’re worth,” I retorted.
“That’s why you love me.”
I sighed, my hair drooping in the damp air. “I’ll need it by tomorrow.”
Jack guffawed, but he knew as well as I that he could do it and that he had to do it for the favour and the booze.
-:-
The next time I saw Rose Tyler, she was in a long, red dress that stood out in the black-and-white clad guests at the ball she had chosen for our next meeting. The bow-tie became just that little bit tighter around my throat and I tugged at it uncomfortably. I was a long tie guy; you could loosen a tie just so and still look dressed. The dinner jacket I’d put on was a bit too big for me - I didn’t own these clothes, but Martha, bless her, had insisted I look like one of those dashing spies from her cheap novels. Oh well.
Just as I was wondering how Rose had gotten into that dress - and how I’d get her out of it (possibly by talk, if she were to listen) - she had spotted me and sauntered towards me lazily, plucking a glass of champagne off a waiter’s tray.
“I don’t drink.”
“Now, that’s a lie, Doctor, and you know it,” she said, smiling and tucking the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth. The colour of her lipstick matched the colour of her dress. Those lips needed kissing, and properly.
“Bubbly, Rose. I don’t drink bubbly.”
“Too domestic?” she teased.
“Too weak for the memories.”
“Champagne on its own is, yeah,” she purred, flicking an imaginary speck of dust off the shiny material of my lapel.
“What do you suggest?” I asked.
“Well,” she said, drawing her red fingernail down my chest. I swallowed, coming very close to breaking my own rule. Perhaps Rose Tyler is the one reason to do so. I reached up to tuck an errant lock of her golden hair behind her ear, when I saw a woman approach us. I recognised her immediately.
She was wearing a black, glittering dress that was a bit too tight for her, and her peroxide blonde hair was piled impossibly high on top of her head. The make-up was laid on thick, suggesting war paint. This was Jackie Tyler, Pete’s wife, and Rose’s mother.
“There you are, sweetheart,” she crooned, looking at me with interest.
“Mum, this is the Doctor.”
Jackie’s eyes narrowed as her smile faded. “Is he?”
Then, with surprising strength and a resounding smack, she slapped me so hard I was sure I’d sport the imprint of every single one of her fingers on my cheek for days. I shouldn’t have shaved before driving out to the mansion.
“What was that for?” I squeaked in annoyance.
“That’s for dropping my daughter off by herself just after the attempted kidnapping,” Jackie explained. Then she held out a tumbler of golden liquid for me. “And that’s a small token of my gratitude. You’ve saved my Pete from ruin.”
That I had. Jack had indeed procured the required papers and it had been child’s play to prove Pete Tyler innocent and get back at Harold Saxon in the process. Still, I was a far way from defeating my nemesis.
I took the whisky and fished for the packet of fags in my pocket.
“Smoking doesn’t suit you,” Jackie said.
“The air’s thick enough with smoke as it is without my adding to it,” I retorted, holding the packet out for her. “They’re chocolate. Fancy one?”
And thus, I had won over the mother as well.
Later that night, after I’d escaped a thankful Pete Tyler’s clutches and his repeated offer of a decent job, I found Rose Tyler on the balcony outside the great hall of her parents’ palatial home. She had wrapped her arms around herself against the chill of the night. I took off my jacket and slipped it over her bare shoulders.
“Bit much in there, innit?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“’s a beautiful night, though.”
“Is it?” I didn’t really pay much attention to that sort of thing, probably because I usually spent my nights chasing down shady characters and drinking at Noble’s.
“I haven’t been a good girl,” Rose purred, pulling my jacket closer around her shoulders.
My eyes went wide. “You haven’t?”
“I haven’t thanked you properly yet. For saving me, and for saving my Dad.”
I meant to pat my breast pocket but realised too late that Rose had my dinner jacket that held the cheque Pete Tyler had given to me earlier.
“Not that,” she whispered, stepping towards me. Again, her hands rose to my lapels and she smoothed them against my chest. My heartbeat seemed to double at her touch. I must admit that I had imagined her quite a few times in the past couple of days, but I’d never dreamed of it actually happening. Rose Tyler was beautiful and strong, she probably could have had any man. I was just a lonely bloke, about to set up shop in a different place now that Harold Saxon had decided to do his worst elsewhere.
Rose raised her fingers to my lips, plucking the fake fag from between them. Then she drew me down to her by the neck and kissed me. In that moment, I knew I was the happiest as well as the most desperate man in town. I pulled her close to me, cupping her bum with my hands, and she let me. I couldn’t resist Rose Tyler, but neither could I resist putting the world to rights.
“What’re you up to next?” she asked, wiggling her hips against mine, eliciting a groan from me.
“Do you dance, Miss Tyler?”
I could afford to go without a job for a couple of days and still be able to pay Martha’s wages at the end of the week. A bit of a breather couldn’t do any harm, but it’s not really what I’m used to. I like to keep myself busy, to keep moving., 3208
“Here, guv, this should help,” Martha said, her voice a little too cheerful and much too loud for my liking. She did bring a cup of tea, though, darker than her skin and stronger than anything the café around the corner had on offer. Sometimes I wondered if a brew that strong was legal, but on a morning like this I couldn’t care less. I took the chipped mug from her, wrapping my fingers around the hot ceramic.
“Cheers, Martha.” My voice was raspy from a night out at Noble’s, my favourite haunt. I’d just finished a case. It wasn’t very satisfying, but I’d cashed the cheque and that more than made up for it. Plucking the cigarette from my bottom lip, I drank deeply from the tea. After only one sip I felt more invigorated than after a good night’s sleep.
“Anything new come in while I was away?” Even my voice returned to normal thanks to her her blessed brew.
“No.”
“Ah.” I took another sip. Even some spoilt brat’s missing dog was preferable to the endless boredom of staring at the stubbornly quiet telephone. Well, at least I hadn’t spent all my earnings on Donna’s finest whisky. I could afford to go without a job for a couple of days and still be able to pay Martha’s wages at the end of the week. A bit of a breather couldn’t do any harm, but it’s not really what I’m used to. I like to keep myself busy, to keep moving. Having too much time on my hands makes me edgy and that’s when I tend to think too much. I don’t like thinking about the past, which is why I’ve never been good with paper work. But since I’m my own man I can do without that very well.
“I’ll just…” Martha said, pointing at the door behind her. I had no idea what she was referring to, but I could do with a little alone-time. At least until I’d finished the first cup of tea. There was something in her huge dark eyes that made me uncomfortable, but I was unable to put my finger on it. She seemed to be about to say something but eventually she turned around and left, her lips pressed tightly together.
“Yeah,” I said, drawing out the sound, looking away at the empty filing cabinet. It’s just for show. Well, except for the one drawer. Well, two drawers, actually. One’s for the booze, the other for a fresh shirt. I’ve no idea if the fresh shirt is in there; I’m pretty sure about the booze, though.
As Martha left, I leaned back in my chair and put my feet up on the desk. A bit of a shut-eye couldn’t hurt even though I don’t need much sleep.
I must’ve dozed off eventually because the shrill ring of the telephone jerked me away from the smug grin of the one face I hated most in the world. It was also the one face that kept me going. It gave me the feeling of not being alone. As long as I had Harold Saxon to chase - and he was behind every single crime in this city - I’d never be out of a job.
“Guv?” Martha said after I’d picked up the receiver. “You’d better come out here.” Martha was never one to sound anxious but as she gave me the message, I could feel the familiar thrill of anticipation tingle along my spine. Nothing good has ever come of it, but I certainly enjoyed it.
“Molto bene,” I said, finishing the lukewarm tea. I put on my specs and tucked a fag into the corner of my mouth.
When I stepped into the outer office, Martha was staring down a nearly bald, dark man. He wasn’t much older than her, and if I’d stood there a while longer I’d have found out if his scowl could outlast her glare. Hardly anyone could get past her.
“Mornin’,” I said, plucking the cigarette from my mouth.
“You Doc Smith?” the chap asked. The collar of his leather jacket was drawn up, and his jeans suggested the tough type. He was someone’s muscle. It was hard to suppress the bounce that tickled my toes.
“Actually, I’m called the Doctor.”
The chap sneered. “You certainly got the brainy specs.”
“Yep, that’s me.”
“My boss needs your help. Asked for you, in fact,” he said, giving me an appraising look.
“What if I’m busy?”
“With what? Sampling Miss Noble’s finest?”
“Recreational Trigonometry.”
He stared, then he guffawed. “I sure know why the boss’s chosen you.”
“I haven’t agreed yet.”
“You will, guv. Trust me on that.”
“Oh,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Pete Tyler’s your boss.” It wasn’t a question. There was only one man who’d use that phrase. Pete Tyler ran Vitex, one of the most powerful companies in the country. He was an influential man, and I wondered why he’d ask for my help. Well, of course I was good, the best. But he usually had his own people to deal with the tough stuff.
The chap scowled, obviously annoyed that I’d seen through the weakness of his mysterious façade so quickly. But then his expression went softer, and I realised that there was more.
“We’d better discuss this in my office, Mister…?”
“Smith, Mickey Smith.”
“Right. Martha, we’ll need some tea. Or is it coffee?” Martha, still standing behind her desk, had relaxed somewhat and moved towards the small kitchenette tucked away behind the hat-stand.
“I’m not going to stay that long, Doc.”
“Well, Rickey, what can I do for you?”
“Actually, what can you do for my boss?”
“I won’t know unless you tell me what the job is, will I?” I asked, leaning against the door frame, tucking my hands into the depths of my trousers.
Mickey scowled. “He’s in trouble. He needs some hard facts that will get him out of it.”
“Harder facts than those?” I asked, glancing pointedly at his fists.
“That’s why I’m here, aren’t I, you skinny streak of nothing.”
I guffawed. I must admit I liked him. “You’ll need to give me more than that.”
“Be at Vito’s tonight, eight o’clock sharp. Wear a tie.” He gave me that appraising glance again. I admit my pinstripes were a bit rumpled and I could do with a fresh shirt - must check that drawer - but it wasn’t too bad.
“I’ll be there.” The words had left my mouth before I could stop myself. The enigma that was Pete Tyler was too intriguing; I can’t resist a decent mystery. Mickey grinned, baring two rows of brilliant white teeth when he realised he’d gotten me after all.
-:-
The first thing I noticed about the girl were her legs, and as my eyes travelled north I took in her curves. They were in all the right places and the pale pink dress she was wearing made her one of most beautiful women I’d ever seen. Although her face was hidden by carefully coiffed blonde curls she seemed nervous and was clearly waiting for someone as she stood just outside Vito’s. I was almost on time but as I hurried past I noticed her stiffen at the sight of a car driving by. I whirled around just in time to see the dark car pull up at the curb and the door open before it had even come to a halt.
I knew immediately that the girl was in trouble. Tyler would wait, I needed to help that pink and yellow girl first. I started towards her, grabbed her hand and shouted, “Run!” To my surprise, she did just that, following me swiftly despite her high heels - they were pointy enough to cause serious injury. Her blonde curls bobbed as I pulled her around the corner of the building. Reaching the next street corner, I hailed a cab and ushered her into the black vehicle as soon as it pulled up. She flopped down unceremoniously in the seat next to me, catching her breath. As she pushed her hair out of her face I saw her full, fiery lips and the rush of excitement in her amber eyes. I recognised her immediately. This was Rose Tyler, Vitex heiress and Pete Tyler’s daughter. She was Mickey’s boss. I should have realised it when Mickey hadn’t acknowledged that my guess had been nearly right.
“Thank you,” she panted, smiling. One would think she’d be terrified, but Rose Tyler seemed excited and glad for the escape. “Doctor.”
“Doctor who?” I couldn’t resist.
“Jus’… the Doctor, innit?”
“That’s me,” I grinned. “Nice to meet you, Miss Tyler.”
“Rose.”
“Where to, guv?” the cabbie asked, seeking my attention via the rear-view mirror.
I looked at Rose.
“Westminster Bridge.”
I raised my eyebrow at her choice.
“What happened to the date at Vito’s?” I asked.
“It’s not a date,” she pointed out. “Dad isn’t really in a position to go out much these days.”
“Clever man.”
“Will you help us, Doctor?” Rose asked. I couldn’t help looking at her full lips as she spoke. They were dark in the dim light of the taxi and I wondered what it would be like to be kissing them. It wasn’t an entirely welcome thought. I appreciated beautiful women as much as the next man but I’d decided to take myself off the market. My job didn’t make me dating material, plus I didn’t really do domestic. I just wasn’t cut out for it.
“Us?”
“My Dad has gotten into trouble with some of his business. If word gets out, the whole of Vitex could collapse. And you know what that means.”
“Yeah.” Vitex was entirely too powerful for my tastes but at least Pete Tyler seemed the decent type, the type to avoid major corruption and other business-related crime.
“Someone has found some files that suggest he’s a fraud. That he had murdered John Lumic to take over the empire himself,” Rose explained. She opened the tiny little handbag that I hadn’t noticed until then. My gaze travelled the length of her legs; they were covered in black silk stockings and cupped in those impossible high heels on which she had somehow managed to run. Rose Tyler certainly was a special girl.
She produced a small package from her handbag, which I took without a second glance and tucked into one of my pockets. Then she gave me a business card with a phone number written in loopy handwriting on the back. “It’s my private extension at the mansion. Call me any time.” She signalled for the cabbie to stop, and before I knew it, she had pressed a couple of notes into his waiting palm. “Take the gentleman to the TARDIS Estate.”
Before I could say anything else, she disappeared into the gloomy London night. Thick swathes of mist were rising from the Thames. We had reached Westminster Bridge, where, I supposed, she’d meet with a driver of her own, possibly Mickey.
-:-
“Hey Doc,” the American drawled. “Long time no see.” He turned around where he’d been sheltering under Waterloo Bridge. The booksellers had long since left, the foggy air poison to their wares. He was wearing his long military coat, and the thin light of the lamp was glistened on his jet-black hair.
“Can’t be long enough,” I grumbled, giving my umbrella a swirl. Jack Harkness made me uncomfortable for many reasons, but in this case I couldn’t do without him. He was worked for the shadowy Torchwood Institute, whose methods I found more than a little questionable. What made it worthwhile was the thought of helping Rose rather than the satisfaction of a case successfully closed.
“Aw, and there I thought you were happy to see me.”
“I’m always happy to see… never mind.” I’d been about to say the back of you, but in Jack’s case that was adding fuel to the fire. He grinned broadly.
“Can you get me information on this?” I asked, handing him a folded note on which I had listed documents I needed to prove Pete Tyler’s innocence. With a bit of luck, those same files would throw a spanner in Harold Saxon’s works. Dealing with him was always tricky, but he’d walked away from our last encounter with that triumphant grin. I was desperate for something that would wipe that smug look off his face. I stuffed my hands into the pockets of my coat.
“Sure, Doc. What’s in it for me?”
“Parking tickets.” I knew he had quite a few of those, unpaid, at the Yard, and I had a contact that owed me a favour.
“And a dozen of Noble’s finest.”
“What?”
He grinned cheekily at me. I’d known the price would be high, but asking for a case was preposterous.
“You know my price, Doc.”
“I know what you’re worth,” I retorted.
“That’s why you love me.”
I sighed, my hair drooping in the damp air. “I’ll need it by tomorrow.”
Jack guffawed, but he knew as well as I that he could do it and that he had to do it for the favour and the booze.
-:-
The next time I saw Rose Tyler, she was in a long, red dress that stood out in the black-and-white clad guests at the ball she had chosen for our next meeting. The bow-tie became just that little bit tighter around my throat and I tugged at it uncomfortably. I was a long tie guy; you could loosen a tie just so and still look dressed. The dinner jacket I’d put on was a bit too big for me - I didn’t own these clothes, but Martha, bless her, had insisted I look like one of those dashing spies from her cheap novels. Oh well.
Just as I was wondering how Rose had gotten into that dress - and how I’d get her out of it (possibly by talk, if she were to listen) - she had spotted me and sauntered towards me lazily, plucking a glass of champagne off a waiter’s tray.
“I don’t drink.”
“Now, that’s a lie, Doctor, and you know it,” she said, smiling and tucking the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth. The colour of her lipstick matched the colour of her dress. Those lips needed kissing, and properly.
“Bubbly, Rose. I don’t drink bubbly.”
“Too domestic?” she teased.
“Too weak for the memories.”
“Champagne on its own is, yeah,” she purred, flicking an imaginary speck of dust off the shiny material of my lapel.
“What do you suggest?” I asked.
“Well,” she said, drawing her red fingernail down my chest. I swallowed, coming very close to breaking my own rule. Perhaps Rose Tyler is the one reason to do so. I reached up to tuck an errant lock of her golden hair behind her ear, when I saw a woman approach us. I recognised her immediately.
She was wearing a black, glittering dress that was a bit too tight for her, and her peroxide blonde hair was piled impossibly high on top of her head. The make-up was laid on thick, suggesting war paint. This was Jackie Tyler, Pete’s wife, and Rose’s mother.
“There you are, sweetheart,” she crooned, looking at me with interest.
“Mum, this is the Doctor.”
Jackie’s eyes narrowed as her smile faded. “Is he?”
Then, with surprising strength and a resounding smack, she slapped me so hard I was sure I’d sport the imprint of every single one of her fingers on my cheek for days. I shouldn’t have shaved before driving out to the mansion.
“What was that for?” I squeaked in annoyance.
“That’s for dropping my daughter off by herself just after the attempted kidnapping,” Jackie explained. Then she held out a tumbler of golden liquid for me. “And that’s a small token of my gratitude. You’ve saved my Pete from ruin.”
That I had. Jack had indeed procured the required papers and it had been child’s play to prove Pete Tyler innocent and get back at Harold Saxon in the process. Still, I was a far way from defeating my nemesis.
I took the whisky and fished for the packet of fags in my pocket.
“Smoking doesn’t suit you,” Jackie said.
“The air’s thick enough with smoke as it is without my adding to it,” I retorted, holding the packet out for her. “They’re chocolate. Fancy one?”
And thus, I had won over the mother as well.
Later that night, after I’d escaped a thankful Pete Tyler’s clutches and his repeated offer of a decent job, I found Rose Tyler on the balcony outside the great hall of her parents’ palatial home. She had wrapped her arms around herself against the chill of the night. I took off my jacket and slipped it over her bare shoulders.
“Bit much in there, innit?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“’s a beautiful night, though.”
“Is it?” I didn’t really pay much attention to that sort of thing, probably because I usually spent my nights chasing down shady characters and drinking at Noble’s.
“I haven’t been a good girl,” Rose purred, pulling my jacket closer around her shoulders.
My eyes went wide. “You haven’t?”
“I haven’t thanked you properly yet. For saving me, and for saving my Dad.”
I meant to pat my breast pocket but realised too late that Rose had my dinner jacket that held the cheque Pete Tyler had given to me earlier.
“Not that,” she whispered, stepping towards me. Again, her hands rose to my lapels and she smoothed them against my chest. My heartbeat seemed to double at her touch. I must admit that I had imagined her quite a few times in the past couple of days, but I’d never dreamed of it actually happening. Rose Tyler was beautiful and strong, she probably could have had any man. I was just a lonely bloke, about to set up shop in a different place now that Harold Saxon had decided to do his worst elsewhere.
Rose raised her fingers to my lips, plucking the fake fag from between them. Then she drew me down to her by the neck and kissed me. In that moment, I knew I was the happiest as well as the most desperate man in town. I pulled her close to me, cupping her bum with my hands, and she let me. I couldn’t resist Rose Tyler, but neither could I resist putting the world to rights.
“What’re you up to next?” she asked, wiggling her hips against mine, eliciting a groan from me.
“Do you dance, Miss Tyler?”