(2018-11-09) A Bad Night in Portland
Details for A Bad Night in Portland
Summary: Mercy is in trouble and turns to Beau for help, inadvertently setting both of their lives on an entirely new course.
Rating: PG-13
Date: November 9, 2018
Davis Beauregard Mercy Morgan

It's raining — as it usually does in Portland and Beau is busy at his soundboard with one headphone on as he plays around with the settings for a new mix. A burning cigarette sits in the old vintage plastic ashtray to the side. His beer is on the floor — no spilling that on the equipment. The mic is dropped close to his mouth and though he's not using it currently he's meant to be.

His foot taps against the floor and he cups his head to the ear cover before he is futzing with some reverb. He reaches for the cigarette and pulls from it before setting it back down and blowing the smoke up and away. There is a crook of a smile as he bobs his head in time to the music and rubs at the scruff of his chin. The other side of the headphones is slide back over and he is lost in the mix, queuing it from the beginning.

It's raining — as it usually does when everything has gone to shit. Mercy pulls a tattered hood tight over her head. The hoodie is soaked through, despite being worn under her leather jacket. Her legs are chilled to the bone, and no wonder, being covered only in a too-short skirt and torn fishnets.

The wet, bedraggled young woman dodges a spout pouring from a drainpipe as she descends the steps to a basement-level apartment. She bangs frantically on the door, casting nervous glances up the short stairway to the street above. "C'mon, c'moooon. You'd better fuckin' be home, Beau." Impatient, she knocks again, louder this time.

The hammering on his door is just a thudding base backline to the mix playing back on his headset. He switches up a the mid tones and smiles all the more, "Fuck yeah.." he grabs his cigarette and pulling on it he looks up through the lingering smoke to see something move outside the small window that is part of the door. Then it shakes a bit even if he can not hear the knock. Down goes his cigarette and he lowers his headphones to hear the knock rain down.

He pulls the headset off and get sup from his stool with a quick spin. He crosses the room in his boxers and black t-shirt — even with socks on. He pulls the door open and arches a brow in surprise. "Mercy Me…" he says and hesitates. "Everything okay?" He starts to step back to let her in.

Mercy doesn't waste a second getting inside, tracking in wet bootprints in her wake. She flurries past Beau a few steps, then whirls around, shaking her head with wide-eyes stained with streaking mascara. "No, everything is definitely not okay. Close the door!" she hisses in panic. Pushing her hood back, Mercy runs her fingers through her damp, blonde locks. "Fuck, fuck, FUCK! Everything is fucked!"

Beau stands there a moment, pressed back by the eager Mercy that causes him to hesitates and then stare at where she had been. "Please, do come inside." He adopts that fab British accent and closes the door. He turns about makes a motion with his hand. "Calm down..kay? Get that coat off, in fact…you are looking like a drowned cat..stay there." He holds up his hands and heads for the divider that separates his bed from the rest of the room. He digs through a prefab dresser and drags out a pair of sweats and sweatshirt before tossing them on the couch. "Here, hit the restroom..don't question the stains in the toilet."

Mercy is briefly shut up by the sweats tossed into her arms. "Stop being so fucking calm," she mutters. She lays the sweats down over the back of what passes for a couch in Beau's lair, then unzips her jacket. "Nobody's called you? It's a total clusterfuck, man. I think Slam Boy's been shot…I dunno…he might be dead…I dunno." Her shaking hands may not be just from the cold. She unzips the hoodie and peels out of it, and then the t-shirt underneath, unabashed about standing in her black bra in front of Beau.

Beau is everyone's big brother, usually the one just outside of the trouble but still knows it's there. "Called me?" He mutters under his breath a colorful curse as he picks up the phone with its fractured screen, "Fucking punter thing finally died! I have not been getting anything, Mercy…so what the hell is going on?" Calm he remains, on the edge though with mention of possibly death. Dance clubs and bar scenes have tons of women in less and so Mercy isn't even looked at twice but he stalks over to the bathroom. He reaches into the dark and grabs a towel, a ratted old thing but it smells like bounce when he throws it to her. "I am going to get you a drink..calm your nerves." But he looks like he's expecting an explanation.

Mercy kicks off her boots and strips down to her underwear. "My nerves are runnin' goddamn marathons! Fuck!" She rubs herself down with the towel, getting herself dry at the very least, though still shivering with cold. "It was just a fuckin' deal. Slam Boy took me with him to pick up from his dealer. Y'know, Skeez? But right in the middle of it the cops busted in. Fuckin' piece of shit Skeez flips the fuck out, accuses Slam Boy of selling him out and pulls a fuckin' gun! Why doesn't this fucking shirt have holes?!" She shakes the sweatshirt in her trembling hands as she fumbles with with it quite unsuccessfully.

"Yeah, I would suspect so," his voice calls from the kitchenette as two mismatched tumblers are drug from the cupboard that is half off the wall. The yellow color looks sickening now but he doesn't care. He goes beneath the sink and pulls up a bottle of whiskey and pouring the glasses liberally full - well three quarters and her's might be a bit more than that.

Beau is a bit stonefaced at the moment as he comes over to set down the drinks on his paper strewn sidetable. "Calm down now, breathe…it's a sweatshirt, course it has holes." He is giving her a look to make sure she's not going to flip out again on him and helps her orient the sweatshirt before releasing it. "Wipe your face, Mercy Me…"

He turns then to pick up a glass and hold it out to her. "Drink…sit the fuck down and relax."

Mercy scowls at the shirt, which has now developed holes and is clearly mocking her. She slips it on and reaches for the tumbler of whiskey, taking a heavy quaff, following by a long, slow breath. She flops down onto the couch and shakes her head. "Shit. I'm fucked, Beau. The cops might be looking for me. Skeev is definitely going to want me dead." She looks over at him, looking slightly ghastly with the smeared eye make-up. "What am I gonna do?"

He stands there, drinking from his own glass and downing it in a few gulps before he sets it aside. He's not a sugar coater and he quickly nods. "Yep, probably and decently fucked. You came here? I am a friend of both of yours I am sure the police will be here soon enough to ask questions." He walks back over to get the whiskey and pours himself another half glass before topping her own off. "Well, Princess." He begins and moves to sit on the coffee table and tangle his knees with her own. "You got choices, you leave now? Or you find a better place to hide because it won't be in this one room hovel." He looks about and grins, tipping back his whiskey. "Look I got some money..you should take the cash. Head out of town and stay in a motel somewhere. I have an old phone somewhere too, its flip..mom's got that number and refuses to use my new one so ..hey.." she pays for the other one.

"I came here because you live in a hole in the ground. I thought you were, like, off the books or whatever." Mercy looks around at the converted basement. "This can't be a legit apartment…right?"

"It's not, nothing I have is legit, Princess…you know that but people know me..and you know where I live. Which means other people know where I live and those same people know Skeev or an associate…and they know we know each other. Look Mercy Me…it's a hole in the ground and that is all it is. People will come knocking and I don't particularly like that idea…but its bound to happen. SOOOOO, I gotta lie for you. Which I am not a good liar." Lie right there. He fibs all the time. "I am offering you a way to get off the grid," he says and then gives her a long look, seeming to be lost in thought before he looks at his equipment. "Fuck me…Merce." It's not a request, or demand as he downs his drink and stands up to point a finger at her while gripping his empty tumbler. "You need to get your shit together…and not shit on other people's doorsteps. Fuck me," He's thinking, that his thinking walk as his hand lifts to brush through shaggy hair and then rush over to take the last pull from his dying cigarette. "God damn it.." He blows the smoke out.

"Where the fuck else am I supposed to go? I don't have a car and my place is miles away, and they'll look for me there first, anyway." Mercy guzzles the whiskey. Fuck it, she needs some liquid courage about now. Swallowing down the burn, she holds up a hand for peace. "Look…you said it yourself: people know you. More importantly, you know people. You can find out if they're even lookin' for me. Couldn't you?" She stands up, tilting her head with a shrug of hopelessness. She's is certainly aware that she is lacking pants, but screw it, maybe it will help.

She stands it becomes obvious he stares at her for a second or two. "Put that, those, put that away," he says and shakes his finger with the tumbler in it again as she comes about. "Fine..FINE. I will give Len a call, just a sec. It could raise some flags. And I gave you god damned sweatpants…put them on!" He grumbles at her before he digs out the phone again and fucks low in his breath - dead. Right. He is then moving about trying to find the charger and shoving a stack of sheet music aside he is triumphant. He holds it up and then plugs it in. Setting it aside he turns to her and notices her cup is empty and brings the bottle over, setting it down in front of her. "If this all goes south we drive you out of town…yeah?"

Mercy tries not to smirk too obviously when her shameless ploy seems to work. "Yeah…fine…but I'm not leaving without my axe and my vinyl." She stares at the sweatpants for a moment, considering whether she might need to flash a little more ass to get what she needs. But no, Beau's got a good heart. She winces a little with a pang of guilt for trying to play him. She finally makes her way into the bathroom to do something about the streaking mascara. It's a good look when it's done right, but this is just a mess.

Beau, the DJ with a heart of gold, bad habits and debt a mile wide. He sits himself down in front of his work station and stares at the track on loop as it spills out the wave lengths on his screen. He watches the phone slowly charge so that he can finally power it up. He shakes out another cigarette and lighting it he takes a very long drag and then lets it out in a rush.

"Fucking hell, this is the best she's got…haha poor Merce," he ashes his cigarette over the plastic ashtray and takes another drag before grabbing the phone. He hits the power button as his leg bounces in worry. Finally the screen loads and he has to play around the trashed screen to get to Len's number. He dials up and then has to lean for the cord is too short. The sound of the club is loud and he has to lift his voice. "Len! YEAH LEN! Hey, I need you check something. I haven't seen Mercy…anyone else looking for her?" There is a pause and he nods, "Mmmhmmmm" he says and then rumbles out, "No way…that's not good. Wish her all the luck with that one. Fuck, Princess' got her ass in hot water. Yep, yeah I will be in friday. Yep..Yep..okay later." Off goes the phone and he stares ahead as he plucks at the dry skin on his lips before taking another drag. Thoughts….THOUGHTS.

"Was that Len?" Mercy emerges with something a bit closer to her typical raccoon eyes. She stands across the work station from Beau, brow lifted expectantly. She reaches over to pluck the cigarette from his lips and take a drag herself. "So? What'd he say? Is Slam Boy okay?"

He might have fought her for that cigarette, but he doesn't instead he sits back. "Dead." He says simply and rubs his hand to his cheek and across the scruff at his jaw. "He said people are looking for you. Some showed up down there..asking around. They left not long ago." A heavy breath drawn he rubs the heel of his hand into his eye. "Damn it Merce…tried telling you to keep your nose clear. It's not worth it dollface. Yeah?" Now he's caught up in it too. He looks tired suddenly, older than his years and rubs his hand at the back of his head. "Go..get my case out from underneath the futon…we gotta pack my shit up. I am not leaving this stuff here." What is going on?!

Dead. The word punches Mercy right in the gut. For a moment she looks as if she might throw up right there on Beau's work station. She wasn't especially close to Slam Boy, but he was a bandmate, after all.

"I was just…there," she murmurs in a daze. "I wasn't-…I didn't do anything. I was just there." Beau's words seem to partially jar her from her stupor. "Wh-…the fuck? Why are we packing your shit?"

"The moment I drive out of this town with you and I go missing…trying to get you somewhere safe they are going to question me. My rat hole is going to become my death bed, Merce. You messed with the wrong people..and everyone you touch is going down with you." She doesn't move so he does, pulling the huge case out from under the futon and grunting as his 'almost muscles' flex so he can toss it on top. "Duffle…in the top of the dresser. Get it..pack my clothes. Someone has to have something to wear.." maybe referencing her lack of pants earlier. He pauses and like many people do when they are facing something nearly insurmountable he lifts both his hands to his head and gives himself a mohawk of stress. before feeling overwhelmed of where to start. "RIGHT!" He says to himself, slapping his hands together. "Cords first." He begins to unhook everything, rolling up cords like some pro - which he is.

"I didn't mess w-…" Mercy clenches her teeth and shuts up. It's not the time to argue. Nothing else makes sense right now, so maybe Beau does. She hurries to the dresser to locate the duffle and haphazardly jams clothes as tightly as she can into it. "What about my stuff? I can't go without it."

"You want to step into that shit and take a chance?" Beau curses again as he begins to take apart his soundboard and mixer, carefully stowing them into their padded compartments - one or two get a grunt as they are heavier. But he continues on dragging out another case and soon all that will be left is his computer. "Lets get my stuff in the truck…okay? And then I will go to your place. You are going to drop me off a few blocks back and I will go in and get your damned guitar, but thats all…besides your wardrobe can't be extensive it's all short skirts and fishnets anyways." He waves it off as he holds up a finger and gets the keys to his truck. He heads out into the rain sans shoes or anything else but soon there is a roar out front and the old ford with its trailer cover is parked out in the no parking zone. He returns, soaked to the bone and starts to carry his equipment out, lugging it with grunts and out into the rain.

"Beau. BEAU. Just stop for a second." Mercy meets him as he comes back inside and goes to take him by the arms. "Listen to me. It'll be fine. I still haven't moved everything to the new place. Most of my stuff is still at Kayla's. Fuck everything at my place. I just need what's at Kayla's. I'm not leaving the vinyl behind." She shakes her head, her jaw set firmly.

Shaking her off he sets the case down and grabs her arm. "Then you get your ass into girl. Help me get this shit outside in the truck and let's shut this place up. Yeah? Grab the booze, we definitely need ALL of it." Priorities! Beau drags out the last heavy items before he's covering his computer up with a blanket and then dragging it out too and finding a space for it. Finally his laptop, tablet, broken phone and he's relying on her for the more mundane things. "Anything that will keep, bring that too I got an electric kettle so we can live off ramen for a while." But then he's over pulling open a vent and lo! He pulls out a few bags of cash and dumps them into a backpack.

Mercy is on booze duty. That's something she can handle well. She manages to locate a fruit crate that was being used as a shelf to hold a pot that may have once contained a plant. Bottles are packed neatly into the crate, along with ramen and some other dry and canned goods and some plastic dinnerware. She slips her jacket and boots back on and stuffs her wet clothes into a plastic grocery bag. She waits by the door, crate in hand and bag looped over an arm, watching Beau take care of the last of his panic-packing. "I'm sorry," she mumbles when he comes near.

Beau sucks in a breath and grunts at her but pauses with the backpack over one arm, duffle in the crook of his elbow and reaches out finally to pinch her chin between the crook of his pointer finger and thumb. "Don't do it again," he says flippantly and gives her a smile before he takes the crate from her. "Do a sweep..see if we missed anything..like…well my phone, grab that. Anything else you think we need." He's upending his life for the last ten years to get her out of town and he turns with the last of the important stuff and heads back out into the rain, securing it all he lifts the tailgate, slams it into place and bungies it from the inside to secure it. He will hustle back once more and help her with anything before she's ushered into the rain and closes the door, locking it and then pocketing the key. "Fuck my toothbrush…awww who I am I kidding." He gets into the driver's seat and then looks to her, he's dripping water as the engine starts and the lights flash on. "You have to tell me how to get to this place we have to get to." Seatbelts for safety and then they is pulling out to follow her directions.

The ride is mostly silent other than street directions and the occasional shudder in Mercy's breathing or light sniffle. Mercy sits low in her seat, letting her hair fall around her face to hide her features as best she can.

"There's a parking garage," Mercy says as they near the apartment building, pointing to the garage entrance. "Kayla's spot should be open if her boyfriend isn't here."

"We are parking her boyfriend in, Mercy Me." That is exactly what he does, pulls up alongside the spot and parks several people in. "Go on, Princess. I will wait with the chariot running. Though we need gas once out of the city. Hell, where are we going?" Let her chew on that while she gets what she needs and he checks his pack of cigarettes. He is going to need all of those so tucks them away for now.

Mercy sighs and grumps. "Fine. I'll lug everything by myself. Just…text me if anyone comes in looking to kill me, okay?" She gives him a grim, mirthless smile, flashing the unusually long canines that have worked so well for her stage persona.

There is a heavy sigh from Beau and he gives her a long suffering look. "God damn, I keep calling you Princess, might as well make it true." He turns the truck off, pockets his key and then opens the door. He will follow her in and oh look! Mercy's friend his sucking face with her boy toy and very nearly in the heat of the moment. "Sorry sorry, carry on…hey..is that comfortable?" He tilts his head to stare at them a second before he's hurrying after Mercy to gather up her things.

Kayla glances up with bloodshot eyes and a faraway look that never seems to quite focus on Beau. Yeah, she's comfortable, all right.

Mercy waves at Kayla and her latest dick-with-legs as she speeds past them. "Just here to get the rest of my shit, K. Don't mind us." Kayla doesn't mind. Kayla isn't entirely sure who is in her apartment.

The large, rolling suitcase that Mercy lays out on Kayla's bed is most certainly not hers. Nevertheless, several trash bags full of clothing (almost entirely black) are stuffed into it, along with a scrapbook of some kind, numerous notebooks, and a dingy looking plush goat.

In her hurried packing, Mercy rather suddenly strips again, treating Beau to a second nightly viewing of her underwear. She is quick to replace her ensemble with a pair of form-fitting leather pants and a black, bustier-style top decorated with metal studs along the curvature of the bosom. She also seems to have found another hoodie to wear under her jacket; the better to hide her face with.

"Here, zip that up and bring it," Mercy orders, pointing to the suitcase as she slides a sticky closet door to reveal her signature guitar leaning in the corner next to a cardboard box full of old vinyl records. She slings the guitar over her shoulder and hoists the record collection, turning to face Beau. "Ready to get the fuck out of here?"

Beau is grinning like a fool as he leans against the doorframe to Mercy's bedroom, "Think your friend's got time for a quickie..what the hell was she doing with her legs." he continues to blather on when she abandons his clothing he lent her, "Hey now, those are my best sweatpants!" He bends down to pick them up and what a show he gets. "Princess your treasure is showing," Beaus makes the moment cute and he's definitely not leering. He bundles up his clothes because like hell he's leaving those here.

"As you wish, Buttercup." A NEW nickname is added to the list. "Though I really think we both may have a thing or two to learn from the display of prowess out there in the living room. Maybe we should stick..no nahhh," he pulls a face and shakes his head. "You're right…" He takes the suitcase and leads them out of the room and as they pass by he looks over.

"Keep up the good work! We are all counting on you!" The door gets pulled open with a foot and out they go..more rain but he's thoughtful and those clothes? They are draped over the carton of vinyls.

As she passes the kitchen counter, Mercy pauses for a moment to grab up a stack of mail. She shoves it into the box of records in her arms and hurries out after Beau to the elevator. On the ride down, she breaks the silence. "Thank you…and don't call me Buttercup."

While the suitcase is packed into the back of the truck, Mercy is insistent about keeping the vinyls are her guitar in the cab with them.

"Look, it's got a cover, …" a hardshell cover. "Whatever.." He finally says and will drag himself into the cab and wait for seatbelts to be pulled on and then glances over at her, "Princess Buttercup..do you not know Princess Bride?" He looks at her like she might have two heads before the truck is started. "It's a good thing we decided to go on this very random road trip because now we have PLENTY of time to watch it." He shoots her a off-kilter grin before he puts the car into drive and they head out. "All right..so what direction. Pick one and you better pick fast the interstate is not far away."

"Fuck if I know," Mercy mutters, pulling up her hood. "And yes, I do know the Princess Bride. But despite present appearances, I'm not a fuckin' damsel in distress."

Mercy idly flips through the mail she acquired on her way out. One thick envelope stands out. She takes it out of the box and frowns at it. "Some lawyer sendin' me shit. Great. I've probably got a hit on me, and I'm gettin' sued." She rips the envelope open to examine the contents. After a few long moments of silence, she drawls, "Whaaaat theee fuuuuuck?"

"Mercy me, I would like to tastefully disagree with your 'not a damsel in distress' bit. Sorry to say but you are just that and here I am your Brave Pirate ..well no maybe I am Sir Lancelot or Galahad. Galahad was the chaste one so maybe Lancelot but he did fuck a King's wife…man not really good examples."

He is busy driving them south currently - he's decided they need sun. Palmdale my work. He glances aside when she makes an exclamation at the end of it all. "What..seriously…I have had enough surprises and I don't want my Princess to be in another castle."

"Head south." Mercy looks over at Beau with her mouth hanging open in astonishment. She holds up the document in her hand which, by the title, appears to be a notice of inheritance. "The universe fucks one in the ass, and then the universe provides. We're going south, to a town called Mythic Wood."

"What the hell is a Mythic Wood? It is some hippy hang out place or some joojoo backwater voodoo store. Merce you gotta give me more than that." He's their pilot after all and Mythic Woods is not something he understands or knows. "My phone is not holding a charge worth a damn and we need a map…" He grumbles and starts looking for a place to get gas. "We need a road map and to ask directions. And again, WHY are we going there?"

"Because apparently I have an Uncle Edward that died. Beau…this guy was my father's brother. I could find out who he was." Overwhelmed, but with newfound determination, Mercy rifles through the rest of the paperwork looking for more answers. "Holy shit, he's left me everything. He had a house and a business in this Mythic Wood place…which mean I have a house and business there!"

"You have got to be kidding me," Beau starts out but it seems his good will wishing for her might be running dry as she is so very excited. "No longer the damsel now." He says and then slips onto the highway that will take them south with just a click of his blinker. It's late enough that they are not going to have to contend with traffic. "Just remember someone is six feet under tonight while you get an inheritance." It a sobering comment but Beau needs her to remember her close call. He doesn't take his eyes off the road though his grip on the steering wheel is somewhat white knuckled.

The glare Mercy give Beau could slice through steel. "I don't need a fucking reminder, asshole. I was there. I was running from fucking bullets and I heard Slam Boy scream. Excuse me for finding a little relief that a safe haven has fallen into my lap. Into our laps." Steaming, Mercy turns her attention to the side window, watching the water droplets collect and form little snakes that crawl backward along the glass.

The heavy rain gives way to a lighter drizzle as a few clouds part, allowing the moon to bring just a little more light to the dark night.

"Look, a healthy dose of reality is needed as a reminder of WHAT just happened. Yeah, you got lucky tonight finding that. What if you had not?" Beau is not exactly in the best of moods either and so he reaches over to fiddle with the radio which gets nothing but country and shuts it off after several minutes of futile attempts to buck the system. They are going south! The gas station sign is enough for him — he needs air and a smoke and to adjust himself because wet clothes do not make for comfortable wear. He's starting to itch and not just in regular old faithful places. He pulls off and then parks at the pump, reaching behind to pull some cash out. "No cards, no nothing..just cash. Here. Go get something to eat and drink..get a map too." He gives a couple hundred and then he's swinging out and setting to the task of filling the tank.

Mercy stalks off into the shop to pay for the fuel and acquire some food. Gas station corn dogs may not be exactly gourmet, but they're hot and edible. As she drifts through the store looking for her favorite chips, her eyes catches the security camera, and for a moment she freezes, panic seizing her. It takes a good thirty seconds of breathing and telling herself that nobody knows where she is before she can move again. She gives the cashier a fake smile and gets through the transaction as quickly as possible to get back to the truck.

Once the truck is fueled and Beau climbs back in, she turns in her seat to face him. "Listen. Thank you. You didn't need to upend your life for me, but you did, and you're here, and…I'd be fucked without you. So, thank you." She manages to twitch her lips in something resembling the beginning of a smile. "But I also need you to understand that I don't need a reminder of what happened tonight. It's replaying in my head on a constant loop and I can't make it stop." She takes a shaky breath, her emotions ready to burst the dam. "Beau, I'm barely holding it together. I'm fuckin' scared, my friend is dead, and I probably nearly died, too. Just, please, let me be grateful that something went my way tonight and might actually save our asses."

He's done fueling before she gets out and he's doing the usual like normal people and leaning his windshield, an unlit cigarette in his mouth. He really doesn't need to be doing it - its raining after all but makes him look normal when he's not feeling anything like it. On the run with a gorgeous snappy blond who likes to flash her underwear. Not normal. This is like some crazy action movie in its beginning stages.

He flings the brush back in the holder and climbs back into the car next to her. The key hesitates in the car ignition as she speaks and he watches her with those pale blue eyes. "Yeah I know, Princess. Tense…and I am taking it out on you." He hesitates and then scoots over but grabs at her arm. He won't let her fight him and he drags her into a hug and just holds her tightly for a moment before he will pull back and smooth his hand over her hair. "Buck up, yeah. You got a home to go to…we are getting away from all that. And Mythic Woods sounds like it won't offer any trouble, Trouble." He gives her wan rueful smile before he will kiss her forehead and release her. The truck rumbles to life and he shifts it into gear.

And they are off.

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