Yes, that's right, the illustrious Serienne and myself have decided to co-write a little story. We haven't thought of a title yet, but that will come in time. We're posting chunks alternately, each focusing on one of the main characters. Enjoy.


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More bills to pay. Eric threw the stack down on his desk, slid out of his coat, and plunked down in his chair. He might as well get started on these things now, because nobody was going to be coming in here anyway.

And yet he found, as he rifled through the pile of bills, that he could not think about them. The harder he tried, the more frustrated he felt. He pulled out a cigarette, lit it up, and leaned back in his chair, staring at the idle ceiling fan. He loosened his tie, and in another few seconds, did away with it completely. What was the point? There was no more room for a private eye in this town. It had come to the point where there was no more room for anyone operating outside of the mafia; the amount of possible jobs that didn't concern them was thinning every day, and any job that did would be suicide for both Eric and his employer. No one bothered to resist them anymore, and there was nothing else to resist.

It was in this state of mind that he heard the door to the building being pushed open. So unexpected was this sound that he refused to believe it had even occurred until he began to hear the steady, rhythmic clicking of high heels against the floor, and then a knock against the door to his office. The foggy glass window in the door revealed the silhouette of a woman.

"Come in," he said, not sure if he was actually saying it. He was so surprised that he had a customer that he was almost resentful of it.

The door opened, and in stepped a striking young woman clad in a dark fur coat and high leather boots, and tugging a small black purse along with her.

Eric leaned back, even more surprised; this was definitely not the usual visitor. Or at least, this was not what the usual visitor had been back when he had visitors at all.

"Well... cant I help you?" he asked.

"I certainly hope so," the woman replied with a vague smile. Her voice was thickly Russian. "I've been told that you are good at what you do. Though, my options are rather limited anyway. You're the last private eye in this entire town."

Eric nodded. She was unusual, but she was a customer. He couldn't complain. "Well, please have a seat, then, Miss, uh..."

"Ramarov," she said. "Nadia Ramarov."

"Eric Boucher."

She smiled. "I know," she said. "It was on the sign outside."

"Oh, yeah. So, why don't you tell me a little about what you need me to investigate, ma�am?"

"Well," Nadia began, "I'm afraid it's not precisely an investigation that I need. I was hoping you could serve as something more along the lines of a body guard."

Eric's eyebrows shot up. Anything that deterred from the normal investigation job would always send off an instant alarm in his mind. There were always people out there who had gotten themselves into some kind of deep trouble with the mafia - perhaps they had pulled a fast one doing business, perhaps they had killed a member, perhaps they had merely said disparaging things about the mother of a mob boss while drunk - and thought that if only they could get some skilled gunslinger to play body guard for them until the anger died down, everything would be all right. Under normal circumstances, Eric would have immediately dismissed the proposal, but the stack of bills on his desk was still there, rising ominously towards the ceiling; it was at least worth consideration in a time of desperation, and this woman looked like she was capable of paying pretty well, too.

"That is... well, I don't usually do things like that," he began carefully. "Circumstances being what they are, I suppose I might make an exception... but, a job like that is going to cost quite a bit, for starters."

"That will not be a problem," said Nadia. "I anticipated that you would react that way, and I imagine you'll double or triple whatever price you have in mind now after I tell you more about it."

Eric scratched his head. "This isn't sounding terribly appealing so far, Miss Ramarov. No matter how much you offer, it's not going to do me any good if I'm dead."

"Well, you're not going to do me any good if you're dead, either. But that's what I'm paying you for, isn't it? If you're as good as my source suggested you are, then it shouldn't be a problem."

"What exactly is this 'source,' ma�am?"

Nadia smiled. "Let's just talk about business for now."

"All right," Eric replied. "So who exactly am I protecting you from?"

"I have to be here for quite some time on a very important business matter," Nadia explained. "The nature of my business is a secret, but I can assure you that it is not illegal. It seems, however, that I have a very substantial amount of enemies in high places in this city. I believe you call it the mafia, yes? I have reason to believe that they are already trying to kill me, and I need protection."

Eric sighed heavily. "I can't do jobs that will clash with the mob," he said. "I just can't. Look, Miss Ramarov, I realize you're in a tight place, and I really hate to say this, but the mob is so powerful here, the only chance of survival you have is to get the hell out of here. I don't know if you'll make it, but you might as well try. But if I get mixed up in this, I'm only going to get killed with you."

"I was told that you used to help people with the mafia all the time..."

"That was a long time ago." Eric turned his chair around to face away from her. "Things have changed since then. It used to be that you couldn't take a stroll down the street without seeing signs advertising guys like me. Yeah, we used to help people with mob problems. But it was a losing battle. Since then things have gone steadily downhill, and nowadays nobody can stand up to those guys anymore. All the other private eyes have closed down shop and gone to work some boring desk job."

"But you haven't. Why not?"

Eric didn't reply immediately, because he honestly didn't know the answer.

"I don't know," he said. "I guess I just can't bear to leave this profession until I absolutely have to."

Nadia reached into her purse and pulled out a stack of bills, then placed them on the desk. "That is ten thousand dollars," she said. "You get that up front. Ten thousand more when the job is completed."

Eric swiveled his chair back to face her. He stared at the money. Twenty thousand for one job was unheard of. The most he'd ever been paid at a time was two, three thousand, tops. Suspicion was beginning to well up in him that there was far more to this scenario than it first appeared. Every instinct in him was telling him to say no, to get as far away from this thing as he could. But there were ten thousand dollars on his desk, and he couldn't do it.

"How desperate are you?" he asked.

"I am extremely eager to have your services," she said. "You are the only option I have right now. I cannot leave this city. My business here is far too important. It is worth twenty thousand dollars. It is worth my life."

Eric leaned back and had a few long drags on his cigarette. This was absolutely ridiculous. It was suicide. It was the stupidest thing he could possibly do living in New York at this time. If there was one way to get yourself completely screwed over, it was to challenge the mob.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," he gulped, "but you've got yourself a bodyguard. I can't believe I'm saying this..."

Nadia smiled hugely. "Fantastic!" she exclaimed. "I think we will get along fine together, Mr. Boucher."

"Good god," Eric muttered. In his head, he kept reminding himself of the twenty thousand, over and over and over again.

"Did you manage to hook him?"

"Yes, for quite a high price, I might add."

"How much?"

"Twenty thousand. I gave him ten on the spot."

There was silence for a moment.

"I suppose having a pretty face didn't help you much after all."

"He seemed hesitant to take the job. I suppose the Hamilton fiasco must still be on his mind."

"Apparently so."

"I'm going to pick him up in an hour. I'll talk to you soon."

"Wait."

"Yes?"

"You know what he'll ask of him, don't you?"

"Of course."

"And are you prepared to deal with this?"

"I'll pay him double. He won't refuse that kind of money."

"He's drawn to it, like someone else I know."

"Aren't we all?"

"Perhaps. Expect to see me soon."

"Oh? You're coming tonight?"

"You might say that."

"OOooh, how exciting!"

"Don't get yourself killed now, you hear?"

"Of course, dear. Ciao!"

------

Eric stood in a dark alleyway facing the street corner Nadia had told him to wait at. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, but after previous experiences with the mafia, Eric had learned to expect the unexpected. After a few moments of waiting, a taxi pulled up in front of the lightpost where he was supposed to be standing. Seeing that Nadia was inside, Eric dashed across the street and jumped into the car, soaked by the pouring rain.

"Well look what the cat dragged in. How are you doing this evening, Mr. Boocher?"

Eric couldn't help but to grin at Nadia's accent. "Boucher, as in 'ouch', like when you hit your leg against the side of a car, not "Boocher."

Nadia giggled, then motioned to her driver to go.

"Mr. Boucher, I would like to introduce you to Boris. Boris is my personal driver, and not just a cabby, mind you. He can handle most anything, including an aeroplane."

Boris looked back quickly and waved; Eric reciprocated with a wave of his own, quickly noticing the driver's size. He was a bit husky, though certainly well-built; definately the type one dreads meeting in a dark alley.

"Boris is also a master of disguise, so be sure to keep a lookout for him."

"I'll make a note of it. So where are we going right now?"

"We are currently on our way to the Pom-Pom Club. Ever been there before?"

It suddenly occurred to Eric that he should have figured such already. Nadia's slit-legged dress was a little too risque for a simple night on the town.

"I've heard of it, but I never got around to going. From what I hear you've got to know the right people to even be admitted to the place."

Nadia giggled again. "I suppose you could say that. After all, it is owned by Frankie Lombardo."

"I knew that much, and that's another reason why I stayed away from the place. I'm not too friendly with those mob types."

"Or so I hear. In anycase, I'll be able to get you in without any problems. All I want you to do is watch the crowd while I sing tonight. Lombardo has several men in his organization that aren't too fond of me and I fear that they might try something after the show. When I'm done singing, come back to my dressing room, okay?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Good. Boris will drop me off around the back of the club. Wait about ten minutes and I'll have everything arranged for you to come in."

Eric nodded in consent, but had a bad feeling that there was something more to situation than what Nadia was telling him. He spent the rest of way to the club trying to convince himself that even twenty thousand would be worth re-establishing ties with the mob....

Ah, a what a great story you guys got going. Seems like your average mobster/detective story but it's got a interesting change of pace. It was very refreshing from what I read. The detective Eric reminded me of a tough character with a slightly lazy approach to things but will do any thing for cash. The enigmatic character Nadia was very interesting...I really enjoyed her entrance.

Anyways, I look forward to future installments. These story is good! Good job so far TK and Serienne.

Eric turned up his nose at the fancy flashing sign outside the entrance of the club, declaring quite certainly that this building was, in fact, the "Pom-Pom Club." The kind of name these fancy places always got never ceased to annoy him. He was embarassed walking into a building with that kind of title.

The bouncer gave him a quick look and then nodded. "I've been instructed to let you in, Mr. Boucher," he said. "Randal here will escort you to the table that's been prepared for you." He pointed to a thin but muscular man in a suit standing a bit behind him. Randal gave him a slight nod.

"Thanks," Eric said shortly. He walked inside, and followed Randal into the club.

It was much as Eric had expected it to be - a very classy place with a very unclassy crowd. You wouldn't know it by looking at them, but every single one of them was involved in organized crime in some way, from the smallest of the small-time bootleggers to men so powerful they could sentence you to death with a snap of their fingers. Eric even saw a few familiar faces, and he made sure to face away from them and keep his hat down. Being recognized was not on his priority list. Fortunatley, none of them had ever known him personally, so he had a good chance of getting by.

Randal finally stopped his meandering path through the jungle of circular tables and stopped at one about in the center of the room; not a bad seat, though Eric would have preferred one closer to the back. The farther away from the big crime bosses he sat, the better he would feel.

"Thanks," Eric said as he took a seat.

Randal nodded. "Is there anything I can get you?" he asked.

"Nope," said Eric, pulling out a cigarette and lighting it up. "I'm fine."

"Then please enjoy yourself." Randal turned around and meandered back through the club. Eric turned his attention to the stage. The band was playing, but Nadia hadn't come on yet; Eric assumed she'd be there any moment. He certainly hoped she would; if she had already been caught, his money was down the drain. He leaned back in his seat and let his eyes roam the crowd. He wanted to relax and let his mind wander, but didn't dare. Finally the band stopped, and a bald man holding a microphone walked onto the stage. The chatter of the club gradually fell to silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the bald man began, "it is my esteemed pleasure to introduce tonight's featured guest, all the way from overseas in Russia, one of the most beautiful and talented performers of our day, Nadia Ramarov!" The crowd clapped, the man bowed and exited the stage, and Eric half heartedly brought his palms together a few times. She wasn't that attractive, so he was guessing she wouldn't live up to the hype with her voice, either.

Nadia entered the stage beaming, seeming to take great pleasure in the fanfare. Eric supposed she had every right to; she did seem to have caused quite a buzz with her performance here tonight. If she was such big news to all these powerful men, she must be a pretty damn good singer. At least it explained why she was able to pay him so handsomely, and possibly even why she was afraid for her life; it had been Eric's experience that the more well known a person became, the easier it was for them to piss off the wrong people. Still, he'd never heard of a singer being in trouble with the mob - and certainly not enough trouble to be paying so heavily for a bodyguard.

Eric's train of thought changed quickly as Nadia began her first song. Her voice was surprisingly fine. Eric actually enjoyed it, and he hadn't enjoyed music in quite some time. Life had been too stressful for music in the past few months. Things felt different today, though. Not so dull, not so boring. Like there was meaning again, even if that meaning was nothing more than a chance at being able to pay the bills for a while.

He realized that he'd been losing his alert mental status when he jumped in his seat from a tapping on his shoulder. He turned around to see Randal standing behind him, looking grimly menacing. Two other men, both of them burlier, were standing on either side of him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Boucher," Randal said. "I'm afraid Mr. Lombardo would like to have a word with you. It is a very urgent matter."

Eric's danger alarm went berzerk. There were two possibilities he could think of off the top of his head - either someone had recognized him, or someone was trying to get him away from Nadia. Eric bet on neither; they were both extremely unlikely. This had to be about something else. But it didn't matter either way - he couldn't afford to let his eyes off Nadia.

"I don't suppose Mr. Lombardo could come see me here," he ventured. "It's uh... rather important to me to see the performance."

"I assure you, Mr. Lombardo's business will be brief," Randal replied. "I suggest you cooperate without further delay. We really hate making a scene here. It would be an awful shame if we had to interrupt such a lovely song by taking drastic measures."

Eric sighed and stood up. He smiled. "Lead the way, Randal," he replied.

Randal gave him a dirty look.

-----------------------------

Eric was led through a door in the back of the club and into a long, dimly lit hallway. Once the door was shut behind them, the two bouncers that had accompanied Randal began to search through Eric's suit. One of them reached inside his coat and pulled his gun out.

"You'll get that back when you leave," said Randal. "Now let's go."

Eric followed him down the hallway, and the bouncers stayed at the door. Finally the corridor ended at another door, which Randal knocked on. In a few seconds, a slit in it opened up and a pair of eyes peered out. The door opened, and the man behind it silently stepped aside as Randal and Eric entered the room. It was a large, lavishly furnished office. A rotund man sat behind the huge oak desk at the end of the room, puffing on a cigar, and there were several more men placed around the room.

Lombardo swung his chair around to face Eric. "Well now, welcome to my little base of operations," he croaked. This was obviously a man who'd spent the majority of his life inhaling smoke. "You and I have got lots to discuss. Please come have a seat."

Eric obediently walked over to the desk and sat down in one of the chairs in front of it. Randal stayed at the door. "I was told this would be brief, Mr. Lombardo," he said. "I must respectfully request that promise be kept."

"That all depends on you," Lombardo replied, taking another puff. "I'll do my part and cut right to the chase." He leaned forward on his desk and stared right into Eric's face. "My sources tell me that you've been hired by one Nadia Ramarov - the woman singing in my club tonight, as a matter of fact."

"Okay," Eric said. He figured it was best not to agree or disagree.

"You've been hired as a bodyguard for her," Lombardo continued, leaning back again. "Not exactly the kind of work you're accustomed to doing - but I'm guessing the only job offer you've had in months."

Eric remained silent.

"So here's what I'd like on your part. I'd like you to play a slightly different role for me. To put it bluntly, I need that woman dead, and I'd be very appreciative if you'd do the job for me. 'Appreciative' means that you would probably end up receiving a very significant amount of money. More significant than what you've been offered my Miss Ramarov."

Eric leaned back silently for a moment, staring at the desk. "And if I refuse?" he finally asked.

"I would not be very appreciative of that," said Lombardo. "In fact I would be most unappreciative. I don't really want to go into what 'unappreciative' would mean for you, but rest assured it isn't very pleasant."

This was exactly the thing Eric had not wanted to become tangled up in. It was dangerous on more levels than he could count. But he'd already known the answer to that question, and that he'd agree to whatever Lombardo asked. Or at the very least, say he'd agree.

"I'd like to ask one question before I agree," Eric said.

"That's very brave of you," Lombardo chuckled. "I like that. What's your question then, Mr. Boucher?"

"Why do you need me to do this? You could have had her dead already."

Lombardo puffed on his cigar a couple more times before answering. "You know, I wouldn't normally answer that question, but I really do like you, Boucher," he said. "So I'm going to tell you this much. I'd really prefer that this incident was not associated with me, and if one of my men did it, there would be much more danger of that happening. That's a lot for me to have told you, and I'm trusting that you will not utter a word of it to anyone. If you do, I can assure you that you will regret that decision very greatly."

Eric nodded. "Okay," he said. "I'll do it. Anything else?"

"That's all. Please follow Randal back to your table and enjoy yourself. You can get whatever you like on the house."

Eric turned around and followed Randal back into the hallway. He had known the moment that woman walked into his office that she was nothing but trouble. And yet, strangely enough, he was beginning to think it was trouble he could not have avoided even if he had refused her offer. Perhaps the past really does cling to you forever...

Nadia was nearly finished getting dressed when she heard someone knocking on the door.

"Be there in a minute!"

Quickly slipping into a pair of shoes, Nadia ran to the door and was about to open it when she stopped to think for a second.

"Eric, is that you?"

Silence.

"Eric?"

Nadia took her hand off the doorknob and rushed to find her purse, dumping its contents out onto the floor in a rushed attempt to find her gun. As soon as she picked up the gun and checked to make sure it was loaded, she heard three gunshots come from outside her door. Nadia quickly hid herself behind a dressing screen and peeked out from behind, ready to shoot anyone who entered. Moments later, the door burst open as a man in a trenchcoat dove into the room. Nadia jumped out from behind the screen, firing several shots, only to realize to her horror that she had just shot Eric's hat off.

Eric stared at Nadia, who now had one hand on her gun and the other covering her gaping mouth. Staring back down at his hat, which now had a hole in it, Eric put away his own gun and put the hat back on his head.

"You shot my hat." Eric muttered bluntly. "I've had this hat for nearly ten years and you just ruined it."

Nadia giggled. "It looks cute with a bullet hole on it."

Eric rolled his eyes. "You alright?"

"Yes, but I suppose I should be the one asking you that."

Eric motioned back towards the door. Nadia turned around, startled to see two dead men dressed in white suits slumped against the wall.

"So that wasn't you at the door a few minutes ago. I suppose my cautiousness paid off. By their dress I assume they must be some of Lombardo's cronies."

Eric stood in silence for a moment with an obviously bewildered look on his face.

"What's wrong Mr. Boucher?"

"Its nothing. I'm just glad to see you're okay. Didn't Lombardo's men used to wear gray suits?"

"They did, and I'm not sure why they changed recently." Nadia grinned. "I expected you to be a little more up to date that this; a bit rusty, aren't we?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Eric rolled eyes. Quite honestly, he didn't want to be up to date with the latest mob ongoings. Black suits, white suits, red suits; Eric momentarily wished he had no idea what they all meant.

"So what did you think of my performance tonight?"

Appreciating the change of subject, Eric smiled. "Not bad."

Nadia crossed her arms. "Not bad? That's hardly a compliment!"

"Well, you did put on a good show, but..." Eric's attention was suddenly caught by two white figures standing over their dead cohorts. He quickly grabbed Nadia and dove, pulling out his gun once more and firing several shots as he hit the ground. One of the suited men collapsed, the other spinning around to return fire.

Nadia shouted over the gunfire. "You could be a little more gentle, you know!" Several more shots rang out.

Eric jumped up, calm and collected as always. Motioning for Nadia to be quiet and hide, he leaned up against the wall next to the door and waited for the suited man to enter. After a minute of waiting, he heard the sound of footsteps trailing off; peering out the door, Eric found an empty hallway.

"He's gone."

Nadia grabbed her purse off the floor, quickly picked up a few things and tossed them inside. "Come on, let's get out of here quickly. Things are about to get really ugly!"

"What do you mean, things are about to get really ugly?"

"Just come on! Trust me!"

Nadia ran out the door, pistol in hand. Eric quickly followed suit. As they raced through the hallways winding through the dressing area, the sounds of a gunfight and the screams of bystanders could be heard coming from the dining area of the club. Eric paused for a moment. Clearly Nadia had known this was going to happen, but several things weren't making sense. Why did Lombardo ask him to kill her only to send his own men to do the job moments later?

Eric and Nadia quickly reached the back door of the club as the gunfire from the dining area seemed to become more and more intense. Swinging open the door, Eric rushed out, shocked to see ten black suited men standing beside several black Studebakers.

"Eric, they're with us! Hurry up and get in!"

Even more shocked, Eric stared at Nadia for a moment in disbelief.

"Don't tell me you're with..."

"Just get in the car!"

Nadia ran over to the Studebaker in the middle of the line; Eric hesitantly followed. Once they were inside, the cars quickly took off one after the other. Staring out the back window, Eric watched as the passengers of the car behind him began unloading rounds from their tommy guns at several white cars parked in front of the Pom-Pom Club. Moments later, the entire club went up in smoke as an deafning explosion lit up the sky.

Turning back properly in his seat, Eric glared over at Nadia, then removed his gun and pointed it at her. "I think you've got some explaning to do. I want some answers, and I want them now."

Eric's attention was suddenly caught by the familar voice of someone sitting in the front passenger seat. Only one person in the mafia had such a distinctively German accent, and Eric was quite loathed to hear it once more.

"Careful how you treat Miss Ramarov, for I have taken quite the liking to her. I suggest you hand her your gun right now."

Nadia grinned at Eric. "I promise I'll treat it better than I did your hat."

With a reluctant sigh, Eric handed over the gun closed his eyes. He had a feeling that this night wasn't quite over yet.

I finally got to read 2 more fine installments of this cool story. Great job so far guys, I really like how everything is progressing. I hope to see a few more installments if you guys are up to it.


;)

pretty good so far, though I still think the main character needs to die. Things seem to have started off somewhat quickly though. But I suppose I can't say that until the story ends~

Yeah, unfortunately that's not happening anymore, since Serienne has to go away soon ;_;