DISCLAIMER: The characters and setting are property of Volition, and I'm not looking to make any money off of them. Stealing is wrong.
SPOILERS: For the Brotherhood and Samedi storylines of Saints Row 2. Since it's meant to take place at the end of the game, it'll probably help to have played the rest, too.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
FEEDBACK: To eldritchsandwich[at]gmail.com
"Pierce says he's gonna write a book about you."
In the hour or so since she plopped down on the couch opposite me, the boss hasn't said a word, hasn't done anything but grunt in greeting, lie down, and nurse a forty. That, however, finally gets her to look up.
At this time in the afternoon, everyone who's got something to do is out doing it, so Saints HQ is more or less deserted, but I gesture toward the back of the empty room anyway for effect. "He was pitching titles to me."
"The fuck...like what?"
The pinched look on her face is so adorably out of place I can't help but grin. Well, the blunt smoldering in the ashtray's probably helping too, now that I think about it.
"Let's see, I think my favorite was...'Playa: The Fall and Rise of the 3rd Street Saints.'"
She just scoffs, turning back to stare at the ceiling. "Forget what I said after the General. You could definitely kick Pierce's ass."
"Oh, better late than never."
She smirks, takes another pull from the bottle, and I chide myself for expecting any more of a reaction. I stretch out with a sigh, causing my halter to inch up my stomach and my breasts to press against the fabric, and that's when I get a reaction. It's one of those fleeting, sidelong glances that I recognize all too well, and just like the others I respond with a coy smile then let it drop; as confident as I might be, trying to make the first move with someone like the boss is a good way to end at the knees.
So instead, I stay stretched out and settle a hand on my belly with a delicate sigh. She wants to look, I'm more than happy to let her. When she turns her eyes back to the ceiling, however, I sigh.
"Boss, you okay?"
"Huh?" She blinks like she's having trouble focusing on me, and I know for a fact there's too much left in that bottle for it to be the reason.
"You just haven't said much since...well, actually, since I met you, I guess. But..."
"I'm fine," she snaps in that tone of voice that makes it clear it's an order, not a statement, and I can't help wondering which of us she's trying to convince. I just roll my eyes and throw my legs over the arm of the couch, intent on spending the rest of the afternoon gently gliding down from the last ounce in my stash while she studiously ignores me. I grin to myself; wonder how long she'd be able to keep it up if I slipped my hands under my...
"Never wanted to be a gangbanger."
My thoughts snap back, and she's still staring at the ceiling; I'd almost think I'd imagined it if not for the new look of tension on her face. "Boss?"
"I just got caught in the crossfire. Then I met Julius, thought maybe I could help keep a few neighborhoods safe...next thing I knew I was gettin' my ass blown up on that yacht."
I don't say anything, just watch the subtle rise and fall of her breasts under her jersey.
"Now I got no problem killing everything that stands between me and owning this city. Tryin' to figure out when that happened."
"Carlos." It's the first thing I say, and it makes her eyes snap to mine like she just realized I was there. Her stare is so intense I can't help but blush, and then in an instant she's back to staring at the ceiling.
"I killed him. You know that?"
I sit up. "That was mercy. After what that bitch did to him, any one of us would have..."
She shakes her head angrily. "Before that. I could have just taken Maero's twenty percent. The old me would have. I could have not pissed off the Brotherhood when I didn't have to." The shake comes back, only gentler. "No, it was before Carlos."
She meets my eyes, and now it's my turn to look away.
"It was Veteran Child." She sits up, and I risk a shocked glance; she's somehow managing to stare at me and past me at the same time. "When he took you. When he almost killed you. That's when I realized we weren't playing by the same rules anymore. That anybody who wasn't a Saint was just in the way."
I gulp, my throat suddenly feeling sticky; I haven't had nearly enough pot to be having this conversation. "I guess I never really thanked you for that."
She snorts. "For getting you kidnapped? Any time."
I just shake my head. "Man, why do you do that? Why can't you just take a fucking compliment?" She blinks in shock, but I couldn't stop now even if I wanted to. Which I do, actually, because I'm pretty much afraid that she's gonna shoot me. I mean, more so than usual. "You own this whole fuckin' city, would it really kill you to loosen up for like two seconds?"
I'm practically holding my breath, but she doesn't even turn to look at me, just tipping something that's almost a smile. "Oh, loosen up? Like you?"
To my surprise, I chuckle. "Let's not go overboard. You couldn't handle it."
She turns to me and smirks. "Please. I've got moves you've never even heard of."
I just roll my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Is this the part where we compare tats and you brag about how much longer you spent in prison?"
"Please, I was in a coma for five years. It's not like I was networking."
I hum softly. "Probably for the best. You'd been awake, you'd have owned every bitch in there inside a month. You never would've wanted to break out."
The boss salutes me with the forty, and I very nearly pass out from shock as she actually legitmately fucking smiles. "True that."
Her good mood is infectious and I can't help but snort. "Jeez, no self-esteem issues there, huh?"
She shrugs smugly. "Always nice to get some validation."
"Oh, please. Like you need one more person telling you you're the hottest woman in this city."
It's a good thing I've already abandoned the joint, because the look on her face would probably make me swallow it. Granted, I can't tell for sure with her complexion, but I'm pretty sure that's a fucking blush. The boss clears her throat. "Yeah, well, I guess they say power's sexy."
I can't help roving my eyes over the kind of body you can only get from running from the cops for a living, and I'm surprised how much I let myself leer. "It ain't the power, sweetie."
In the silence that follows, she turns to look at me, and I can't stop the look on my face that asks how much longer we're going to keep dancing like this. That says part of me just wants for us to get so wasted we can't see and completely wreck each other, waking up sore and naked on the floor never again able to pussyfoot around like this.
That says I've never wanted anybody this much, and I don't have the slightest idea what I'm doing.
The boss meets that look, and I almost whimper when I see all the same things on her face.
"Hey, we need some help here!"
And just like that, it's all gone.
I should be pissed off at Pierce as he drags in some pimp they pulled off the street who needs to be taught a lesson about how we do and don't treat hookers in this city, but as I excuse myself, I watch the boss rise up over him imperiously, the dangerous smile that makes everyone in this city afraid of her playing across lips that mere minutes ago I was only the right word away from kissing.
A bittersweet grin breaks my face. I've never wanted anybody this much. I don't have the slightest idea what I'm doing. All I know is we're one step closer, and I'm willing to wait as long as I have to.
Which is a new thing for me. Anticipation. Hell, it might just be better than the sex.
I sneak one last glance at her as I head up the stairs. Nah, I think, probably not.
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