Work in Progress Wednesday: NIck & Corban
Jul. 14th, 2010 02:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
valarltdThis is a few chapters in:
Nick hated the stench of a jail. Even now, dressed in his gray suit, his red tie knotted impeccably and fake glasses sitting on his nose, he hated it. He shifted his briefcase to the other hand and scooted around on the molded plastic chair. Another cup of what passed for coffee would be a bad idea. He already needed to go and Sir could call him back in at any time.
He caught a glimpse of himself in a steel column. The glasses made him look older, smarter. He wondered what a beard would do for his face. He doubted Sir would allow that.
“Mr. Boyd,” James barked from the door, “Our client has requested your services.”
Nick headed into the holding cell.
A petite dark-haired woman sat there, her delicate hands knotted together. “Is he really a lawyer?”
“Nicholas Boyd, of Inman, Boyd and Sparks.” Nick cleared his throat, trying to sound as fussy and precise as David. He caught a faint smile lurking around the edge of Sir's mouth. “How can I assist you, Miss Day?”
“I want to read the contract. If I need to, I want to be able to add codicils to it.”
Nick nodded. “I understand, miss.”
“Now, get me some coffee. This could take a while.”
A while indeed, Nick reflected as he brought in the fifth cup of coffee, two sugars one cream. She had been reading and rereading for two hours. He almost regretted not having been so thorough.
At last she nodded. “All right, Boyd. Add this.”
She dictated a lengthy codicil, in flawless legalese, that detailed how James' organization was to kill her mother. Nick wrote it all, exactly as she said it, wincing inwardly. He really should check on his own mother, he decided, make sure the money was coming through to her.
“Will that be all, miss?”
“Yes.” She took the pen from him and signed “Elizabeth Anne Day” at the bottom of the contract and initialed each page, seemingly unhampered by the handcuffs.
“Since you have been remanded to my custody,” James said, from the far side of the room where he had been working on his handheld while Nick handled the lawyer work, “I will take you home now.”
“My home or yours?” she asked, brash and saucy.
“Mine. In Memphis. Mr. Boyd, if you'll see her to the car, I have some work to do on her release forms yet.”
Nick helped her to her feet and guided her out by her arm. She jerked out of his hand once in the hallway.
“If you please, Miss Day, my employer has asked me to see to your safety?” Nick offered his own arm instead.
“Fuck him and fuck you. I can walk on my own.” She strode for the well-marked exit, head high.
Nick caught up and held the door open for her. She sneered and strode right by him. He sighed inwardly. This one would be a chore to break. Tom had been easy. But Elizabeth was going to make all their lives hell. She was much too smart, arrogant. Nick smiled, remembering overhearing Ligatos make the same assessment of him.
“Don't smirk at me, Boyd,” Elizabeth snapped.
Nick keyed the door open and held it for her. “You can call me Nick, pretty girl.” He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button to show his collar. “You'll be wearing one just like it soon enough, sugar. Might want to be a little nicer.”
“Pervert,” she snapped and settled into the back seat of the limo
Nick hated the stench of a jail. Even now, dressed in his gray suit, his red tie knotted impeccably and fake glasses sitting on his nose, he hated it. He shifted his briefcase to the other hand and scooted around on the molded plastic chair. Another cup of what passed for coffee would be a bad idea. He already needed to go and Sir could call him back in at any time.
He caught a glimpse of himself in a steel column. The glasses made him look older, smarter. He wondered what a beard would do for his face. He doubted Sir would allow that.
“Mr. Boyd,” James barked from the door, “Our client has requested your services.”
Nick headed into the holding cell.
A petite dark-haired woman sat there, her delicate hands knotted together. “Is he really a lawyer?”
“Nicholas Boyd, of Inman, Boyd and Sparks.” Nick cleared his throat, trying to sound as fussy and precise as David. He caught a faint smile lurking around the edge of Sir's mouth. “How can I assist you, Miss Day?”
“I want to read the contract. If I need to, I want to be able to add codicils to it.”
Nick nodded. “I understand, miss.”
“Now, get me some coffee. This could take a while.”
A while indeed, Nick reflected as he brought in the fifth cup of coffee, two sugars one cream. She had been reading and rereading for two hours. He almost regretted not having been so thorough.
At last she nodded. “All right, Boyd. Add this.”
She dictated a lengthy codicil, in flawless legalese, that detailed how James' organization was to kill her mother. Nick wrote it all, exactly as she said it, wincing inwardly. He really should check on his own mother, he decided, make sure the money was coming through to her.
“Will that be all, miss?”
“Yes.” She took the pen from him and signed “Elizabeth Anne Day” at the bottom of the contract and initialed each page, seemingly unhampered by the handcuffs.
“Since you have been remanded to my custody,” James said, from the far side of the room where he had been working on his handheld while Nick handled the lawyer work, “I will take you home now.”
“My home or yours?” she asked, brash and saucy.
“Mine. In Memphis. Mr. Boyd, if you'll see her to the car, I have some work to do on her release forms yet.”
Nick helped her to her feet and guided her out by her arm. She jerked out of his hand once in the hallway.
“If you please, Miss Day, my employer has asked me to see to your safety?” Nick offered his own arm instead.
“Fuck him and fuck you. I can walk on my own.” She strode for the well-marked exit, head high.
Nick caught up and held the door open for her. She sneered and strode right by him. He sighed inwardly. This one would be a chore to break. Tom had been easy. But Elizabeth was going to make all their lives hell. She was much too smart, arrogant. Nick smiled, remembering overhearing Ligatos make the same assessment of him.
“Don't smirk at me, Boyd,” Elizabeth snapped.
Nick keyed the door open and held it for her. “You can call me Nick, pretty girl.” He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button to show his collar. “You'll be wearing one just like it soon enough, sugar. Might want to be a little nicer.”
“Pervert,” she snapped and settled into the back seat of the limo
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Date: 2010-07-17 06:42 pm (UTC)Last night's production, this is VERY ROUGH:
Nick scowled as he opened the door to the penthouse. Eliza was still in the cuffs. She had tried doing everything asked of her, but hadn't spoken much except to correct him in the matter of her name. To top it all off, she was a terrible cook.
He met her in the kitchen and looked at the handcuffs. “All, right, cut the apples for breakfast.” She fumbled two of the fruit and dropped the knife in her clumsiness. He sighed and sat her down. “Sir gives anything we ask for, Liza. Anything we need.” He stroked the handcuffs and rubbed her hands. “Any time we ask frivolously, he still gives, but we pay.”
She pulled away with a suspicious look and went back to her apples. She had one halved before Nick caught her hands. He flipped the brake lever and cinched the cuffs tight enough to cut into her skin before turning the brake back on. He smiled to see the fear in her face and the tears start in her eyes.
“Back to work, pretty girl,” he said as if he'd done nothing at all. Since she would be slower now, he took over the eggs and turkey sausage and toast.