Below The Surface - A Lackadaisy Fanfiction

A Petal's Decay

The smell of cigarettes was heavily sticking in the air. An overwhelming warmth accompanied it in the suite. The night was muggy, hence why she locked up all the windows. It was a warm Missouri night: yet Lacrimosa Ambrose was far from tired, despite how late it was.

She was in her lavish flapper dress, consisting of pigments of indigo and black. She had toed off her shoes and let the feather boa around her slip down, softly and caressing her arms. Tonight was a rather eventful night for the jazz singer: she really brought the blues out in her sultry voice. She was fawned over by many men, and she adored the attention secretly: yet she never wanted anything serious with anyone, as she was a lone wolf in the relationship department. However...no one ever asked about her... side hustle, regarding her occupation in the Rose Brigade: she was the boss after all ...

That's good: if people became suspicious, she would end up shooting some people in the head with her Colt M1911 pistol...she'd thank her husband for that lovely gift...if he weren't dead.

She got up off her couch, sauntering over to her phone as she spun the dial numbers slowly and deliberately, and she put the phone to her ear. She sighed sharply, her pointed ears perking downwards slightly, and she took another hit from her cigarette to calm herself down.

"Mei deliciae, this is getting old...I get you're in Hotel Maribel, but at least speed up this process." She told the other person on the phone.

"Of course, of course! I've just been...under the weather." He reassured her: Silas Tueuse, a French actor visiting Missouri with his sister Raquelle, was far from innocent...just like Ms. Lacrimosa.

"If you mean you were busy being at a damn juice joint and getting sick from drinking too much giggle water , then you are surely a fool to think you can fool me with this excuse." Lacrimosa chided, as if she was talking to a child: from her perspective, she might as well be. She was almost twice Silas' and Raquelle's age, and her beauty slowly dimmed as more wrinkles showed from stress.

"Ah, shucks," Silas hissed a bit, snapping his fingers, "that trick never works, dunnit?"

"Use proper grammar in my presence, Tueuse. I will not ask you again." Lacrimosa twirled with her pearled necklace with a finger, and her claw retracted.

"What's the problem with the way I speak, ma'am?"

"You and your sister come from wealthy parents, I highly expected some elegance from you."

"Ma'am, I come from a French mother and an English father, as does my little sister: we have different ways of speaking: she's like mother, I'm like father. So expect a bit of slip ups and slangs from us...~"

Lacrimosa internally cursed him. She sucked in a sharper breath, brandishing her cigarette. "Silas, do me a favor and get yourself in line...I won't hesitate to lodge a bullet in your pretty little skull." She glanced over towards an ebony desk, seeing a slightly rusted revolver, glinting a little in the soft lighting.

"...yes ma'am."

"Are you about to go down from your room to...do the task?"

"In a few moments...after all, I am a good actor~" Silas pulled out a small vial of cyanide, playing with it. "After all, I could always slip it into a drink or two."

"You remember the target?"

"Yes ma'am. I'll get it done as soon as I can."

"I want you to go immediately after we finish this call: is that clear?"

Silas grimaced: "Yes, that is crystal clear, Ms. Lacrimosa." Oh lord, what was he going to do? His sister was conked out on the hotel bed in Hotel Maribel, after drinking too many dry martinis and throwing up on herself in a not-so elegant fashion. She had changed out into something much more comfortable to sleep in.

"Good: that's my left hand man~" Lacrimosa teased, smiling with feigned sweetness. She then hung up abruptly, the smile drooping into a deep, frustrated frown. She rubbed at her temples, leaning against the table and sighing. Her tail thumped against the wood, and she walked over to the window, opening it. The smoke and smell of cigarettes wafted out of the apartment complex, and she pressed her elbows on the windowsill, hands under her chin. Her amber eyes dulled, watching the cars, the people, and everything else slowly drift by. She craved some form of entertainment, something different from the dullness. St. Louis was a hit or miss sometimes...but soon there will be a good story: a good dose of entertainment, all thanks to the French actor Silas Tueuse. She smiled, flicking off some ash and ember, and it landed on her rose plant...the flame ate at one of the petals, and it shriveled up: she didn't feel too bad. The poor plant was dying anyway...

Her ears flicked at the sound of a violin. She sighed almost gently, shoulders dropping. She extinguished her cigarette onto the ashtray, put her shoes back on, and grabbed her feathered boa again, wrapping it around her: the violinist lived in the exact same apartment building as Lacrimosa, and boy did she love her like a daughter. She grabbed her keys and left her apartment, locking the door and leaving. She began treading down the hallway, tail slowly swishing in sync with the violin's notes. She hummed along to the tune. She knocked on the door at the end of the hall, and the music stopped. There were footsteps, and the door opened.

An older Sphynx with a left glass eye and scar marks stared at her, an eyebrow raised. Her cold, stern features softened slightly. Her ice blue eyes dulled, and she backed away, beckoning Lacrimosa to enter.

"Your playing is soothing, Mandisa. I enjoy it." Lacrimosa walked into the darker apartment, and she put her arms at her sides. She gazed around with a bit of a sleepy-eyed look to her.

Mandisa smiled slightly: despite being wrinkly, she was still a bit in her youth: thirty-five was still rather young. "I'm doing it for the kids." She told her.

"They're asleep, yes?" Lacrimosa raised a brow.

"Both Cassandra and Malachi, yes."

"...what about the other one?"

"Don't you recall? He's living with his father."

"My condolences."

"It's quite alright."

Their conversations were light, but filled with calmness and respect.

"I have another job for you, Silas, Raquelle and the others." Lacrimosa fluffed up her boa.

"So soon?" Mandisa straightened herself up.

"Yes...Silas is already after the target. He'll be done rather soon...but that's not the point. We're going after Marigold's head honcho."

"...really? Asa Sweet?"

"Bold, isn't it?"

"A little tempting, but much more dangerous: don't you remember his little shadow? James has that divot in his ear thanks to Heller's bullet!"

"Damn...that's right."

"Certainly, we can't go head on."

Lacrimosa then grinned deviously. "Lure Heller away...as well as his little posse. We could also ruin some lives in the Little Daisy Cafe~"

Mandisa sat down, her tail curled next to her thigh. "This is...interesting."

"In due time, everything will work out~" Lacrimosa grinned sharply, crossing one leg over the other. "Lure them all away...that way, we pluck away everything they love."

...and this is the beginning of how things become twisted.