[August 2nd] [The Wild Wild West] A Mattress Made of Paper Greens

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: A Mattress Made of Paper Greens
Day/Theme: August 2nd - leaving the spare key I had loaned him next to the uneaten pears
Series: The Wild Wild West (specifically, The Poisonous Posey episode)
Character/Pairing: Snakes Tolliver/Chita McCarthy (she's an OC; he's in my icon)
Rating: K/G

Continued from the previous piece, and it should also be mentioned that their entire romance is heavily based on the song Fliptop Twister by Rockapella (with the alteration of flipping the unfaithful party's gender from what it is in the last verse of the song).


By Lucky_Ladybug

Chita always believed in high living and hated when she couldn't get it. The hotel she'd picked wasn't one of the best in New Orleans, but it wasn't a complete dump like mine. I had to admit, I was glad that I hadn't insisted on us going to mine when I saw hers. I was young and stupid and smitten, and I'd made a big show of looking tough and then getting pounded on by the croupier's goons. I'd shown I wasn't much in a fight, but at least I could keep pretending I was a man of means. I thought that would probably impress her, maybe even more than anything else. I was probably right.

"You're new in New Orleans, aren't you?" she asked as we slipped in the back entrance and up the back stairs. A wrapped steak she'd got by waking up a local butcher was under her arm.

"Yeah," I admitted, "but not to gambling. I've been doing that since I was six years old." Some glass bottles of beer clanked as I balanced them in their crate.

"Really?" Instead of scoffing, she looked intrigued. "And you'd win?"

"Most of the time, yeah," I replied.

She laughed and swatted me on the shoulder. "You must be good."

I tried not to wince when she hit a bruise. "Yeah . . . pretty good."

We got up to her room and she took a key out of her purse. I looked at it in surprise. "Why do you have the key with you?"

"I'm planning on staying a long time," she answered. "I didn't want to have to get the key from the desk clerk every time I came in, so I made up a spare to sneak in and out whenever I feel like it. I hang the Do Not Disturb sign whenever I do it, so they won't find I'm gone."

I had to admit I was amused. It sounded like something I'd try doing.

Soon she had the door open and we were slipping inside. I noticed a basket of fruit on the table in the living room area of the room. I plopped down on the couch behind it and set the beer on the floor. "So what about that steak?"

"Here," she said, flinging the wrapped package at me.

I caught it and unwrapped it. Honestly, I don't know where the idea of steak on a black eye came from, but aside from being kind of greasy, it didn't feel too bad.

She strolled over and sat on the other side of the couch with a bottle opener. After popping open the nearest bottle of beer, she took a long swig. "Not bad."

"It'd better be good, for the price that guy was charging," I remarked. "Hey, open one for me, will you?"

She obliged and handed it to me. I drank and leaned back in the couch, still holding the steak to my eye with my other hand.

That was a really weird night. We talked and laughed about gambling and New Orleans and screwballs like the ones we'd got away from that night. Neither of us had had much luck with gambling earlier, but we each had a few bills to our names. The more giddy we got on the beer, the more we started doing stupid things like flinging the money in the air, cackling like idiots, and leaping into the pile of bills on the floor.

"Someday this is gonna be champagne," I vowed, toasting her with the beer.

"Someday you're gonna own that creep's casino," she giggled.

"I'll own all the casinos in town!" I came back.

"You'll be the king of New Orleans!"

"And you'll be the queen," I answered.

We were just being silly, but when I said that, we both kind of stopped and looked at each other. The more rational part of us was embarrassed by those crazy declarations, but by then we didn't care much. Towards morning, we were still sitting on the floor, our money strewn all around us, and we were resting against the bottom part of the couch.

"You're from these parts, aren't you?" she asked at last. "I can tell by your accent."

"Virginia," I replied. I was holding the steak to my eye again. It hurt worse the more time went on. I vowed to myself to never get a black eye again if I could at all help it. My face was messed up enough already without making it worse.

"You must've been all into the war then," she commented. "I always heard that Southerners were really vicious about it."

"No more than Northerners." I went silent then. I didn't really want to talk about the war.

She didn't take the hint. "Did you come from a plantation-owning family?"

I took a long drag of the beer. "The only people I ever met with plantations didn't like me much. I guess they didn't like getting beat at poker."

She laughed. "I would have loved to see that." But then she got serious. "Did they hurt your face? Or did the war do that to you?"

I knew we were going to get around to that, but I wasn't happy about it. I'd hoped that maybe she'd leave it alone, since she hadn't mentioned it before now. "It happened in the war," I said gruffly. "I wouldn't say the war did it to me."

She moved closer and rested an arm on my shoulder while she started playing with my hair. In the back of my mind I knew that she was being very careful not to touch the scar, but in the front of my mind I ignored it. I wanted to believe she was doing it out of respect for me and not because she was repulsed by it, but I really knew better. Everybody was repulsed by it. Most women wouldn't even give me the time of day unless they were interested in the money I was winning by gambling. I played along and pretended to be having the time of my life with them, but it was just because I was lonely. I didn't care if their interest was only superficial, as long as they had interest.

You were different than them, Chita. I thought so, anyway. I mean, you didn't immediately brush me off when you saw I was marred for life. I'd been starved for that ever since I was branded and in my half-drunk state, I latched on to whatever I could get. I thought that because I'd stood up for you at the casino, you really cared about me. Maybe you did, kind of, but it sure wasn't in the way a naive kid was hoping for.

"Are you bitter about the way the war turned out?"

I just shrugged. "I can get by no matter who's in charge. I wasn't ever fighting the South's war; I was just waging my own personal fight to be free."

"That's good," she said. "I thought maybe you wouldn't like associating with a Northern girl."

I grinned. "I like associating with just about any kind of girl, if they like me."

She swatted me then. "You devil you."

I just leaned back against the couch, watching the light of the sun come up through the worn curtains at the window. It seemed kind of weird and distant, like I was looking at a huge egg yolk in the sky. My thoughts get bonkers when I'm on my way to being sloshed. I try not to let it happen much.

"I've been pretty much a gentleman in this situation, haven't I?" I said.

"Oh sure, but if anyone heard us carrying on, they'd never believe it," she smirked.

"Yeah, probably. Everybody has their minds in the gutter." I watched her. "What about you, Chita? Why did you come to New Orleans? Wasn't New York good enough for you?"

"Not when you're in a lousy Queens neighborhood instead of downtown," she sighed. "And I heard New Orleans was a real party city, so it sounded like the place to go if you wanted a change."

"Yeah, I guess it is. Do you like it?"

"I love it," she grinned. "I can hardly wait for Mardi Gras."

"That'll be something to see, alright." I was curious about it too. Who wouldn't be, really?

"And wow, it's morning," she exclaimed. "We'd better clean up this mess and you'd better leave. I've got to get some sleep and I can't believe you're not tired."

I snapped to attention and swept my hand over the floor to bring some of the bills to me. "You're right. Let's just hope we remember how much of this pile is yours and mine."

"Well, if we don't, I guess we could always combine it."

She was just kidding again, or flirting, but as we knelt there separating our money while the headache I'd been fighting started to take hold, I got a crazy idea. I can't even explain it, except that I was drunk, young, and stupidly thought I'd found something I'd never have again: a woman who'd actually talk to me intelligently instead of madly giggling and just wanting my money. I suddenly got the loony fear that I couldn't let her go. Even all these years later, I still can hardly believe what I said then.

"Why don't we?" I said.

"Why don't we what?" she blinked.

"Combine our money. Or maybe more like, pool our resources. Why don't you marry me?"

She just stopped and stared at me. "We've known each other for twelve hours! If that."

"I know, but why not? We both want the same things out of life: success, power, money. . . . Why not join forces and get them together? I'm gonna be a big shot soon. I'll have all the fancy clothes, shoes, and everything else that I couldn't have growing up. And you, you deserve jewelry, diamond rings, whatever you want out of life. I can help you get them." I was kneeling in front of her, giving this passionate and, I thought, completely logical discourse on why marrying was a good idea. I didn't turn on the charm or act romantic like I did with the showgirls that would come and hang off my arm. I let her see the real me.

That was one more of many mistakes I made that day.

She looked thoughtful. "How about we talk about it again after we've both had some sleep? It's a pretty major decision."

I didn't like that idea. I was afraid that after sleeping, she'd feel differently. Maybe I would too. "I don't need any more time to decide," I protested.

She leaned back, considering it more. "Okay," she said then. "We'll do it, but after we get some sleep!" She grabbed her purse and flung a metal object on the table next to the fruit. "Here. Use this to get back in after you've rested up at your own hotel."

I grabbed up the spare key. "You can be sure of it," I told her.