chicating (chicating) wrote in the_guesthouse,
chicating
chicating
the_guesthouse

Long Awaited(?) Continuation of Noir 48 part 3 of 10

Sorry it took so long to get back to this.
http://bitterqueen.typepad.com/friends_of_ours/2009/06/the-mafia-just-loved-the-gays.html(the next parts will make more sense if you read this. Thanks.)
http://the-guesthouse.livejournal.com/81822.html#cutid1(part 1)
http://the-guesthouse.livejournal.com/81926.html part2)
Rating: TV-14
Pairing: none(The slash is coming up, no pun intended)
Summary: Eric wonders what Vince is hiding.

When I left Gold's office(His Eminence never did reappear, which made me irrationally pissed, although, logically, I knew Gold could very easily be holed up trying to stop my client from boiling his nuts off in some remote, career-ending corner of New Mexico, which, overall, I should support.But before the war changed the rules for everyone, I had been a soda jerk. I felt like I was just an alkie PI and a few lucky breaks from a rich man like Gold asking me to make him an egg cream.It felt like he could smell it on me, no matter how much Old Spice I put on.)

I had a lot to think about so I tried to push the personal stuff aside. My biggest question was what Vincent Chase ever did that he would ever be afraid to have photographed. Despite his hat-in-hand demeanor at my office, it appeared that to know this man was to love him. He was popular with men, women, and dogs, though not so arrogant about it that you wanted to slug him to restore balance in the universe. Every married woman he ever slept with conveniently discarded her husband just before he made eyes at her, and it couldn't be anything to do with Shauna because the assistant district attorney was also a "special friend" of hers. "Nobody could be that fuckin' perfect," I reminded myself, pouring another drink just before the warm California night started reminding me of the humidity of Guam. It was a rough night and I had just dropped into an uneasy sleep when my phone rang.

I was disoriented, but also kind of relieved. I did not often have the war nightmares anymore, but on the right night it felt like they waited just below my eyelids. The phone kept ringing. I reached for it blindly. "Hello?"

"I got something else in my mail." Vince's voice, sounding boyish again. I wondered why I kept thinking about that...he was a thirty-year-old movie star...did I expect him to sound like a Teamster? Most of all, why did I care? To cover my confusion, I acted sore.

"You got something in the mail and you're telling me about it now?"
"Well, I've been out all day...you ought to know...you've been following me,"
"You noticed?" I'd always been vain about my tails.

"My eyes aren't painted on," Chase told me. I liked the way he gave it back to me.

"Can you come over?" he asked, before I had a chance to say anything else. "You should see what we're up against."
Tags: eric, fic, vince
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