"Just a Small Town Vampire" -- IC -- (Always open)

[HerNameIsFlinka]

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"Just a Small Town Vampire"

OOC Thread​

PLEASE DO NOT POST ANYTHING HERE UNTIL YOU HAVE HAD A CHARACTER SHEET APPROVED. THANKS.​

The Story Begins...​

Martin Brinn didn't often get to stand out in the light of day and admire the estate, and he wouldn't likely get another chance for a while. The last of the donors who'd relocated here with him -- willingly or not -- had expired two months ago; and the young woman who'd given her life last night so that Martin would have the strength to enjoy this midday walk had turned out to be a local girl, despite his having picked her up outside a truck stop bar sixty miles away. In a community of less than 500 people, you didn't snatch locals often unless you wanted the State Patrol and FBI crawling about your property, which was exactly the reason for Martin being way out here to the sticks in the first place -- privacy.

The estate Martin had purchased six months earlier was perfect for that primary need of privacy, as well as his secondary need of solitude. As he listened to the sounds of nature -- and nothing more -- he recalled a question from the real estate agent who'd brokered the property's sale.

"Privacy and solitude ... aren't they the same thing?"

"Solitude is what I need to have my own peace of mind," Martin had explained to her. "Privacy, however, is what I need to have a piece of you."

He remembered her nervous laugh and her response, "Why Mister Brinn, are you expecting to get lucky tonight?" He had been, of course, in more ways than one. They never found her body, and because she didn't know his true identity, he was never questioned in her disappearance.

The estate occupied the entirety of a 1000+ acre valley that was roughly the shape of a kid's party balloon. The balloon's knotted end was at the bottom of the property, where the cobblestone driveway passed through a stone and wrought iron gate to meet the gravel access road which was the only automobile access to the property.

The only way to get onto the property other than the access road involved a hike through the thickly forest hills and across a wide swath of open grazing pasture, the latter of which was monitored by motion sensitive security cameras and guarded by Martin's free running Rottweilers.

The nature of the property itself -- and the additional security of the cameras and dogs -- provided Martin with all the privacy and solitude he required, but he was in no way unhappy with the additional remoteness of the estate.

The access road that abutted the property ran another mile down out of the lowland hills without passing another home. It ended at what the locals called Red River Highway, which itself was little more than a narrow, winding piece of black top that hadn't had its pot holes filled in a half dozen years nor its lines repainted in twice that long.

The hills that surrounded nearly three quarters of the estate's backside were primarily second growth timber that had never been thinned. Inside that crescent moon shaped forest, the land had been cleared for a variety of ranching and farming uses by a succession of property owners.

And finally, the house sat near the center of the estate in a location that couldn't be seen from anywhere outside the property.

The result was a piece of property that was hard to gain access to, and a home that was even harder to get near to without being noticed. That was the kind of privacy and solitude that allow Martin to sleep at day. Martin doubted that he could have found this kind of security -- emotional and physical both -- with better access to such a variety of dining opportunities.

Red River was only six miles away. It's official population at the last Census had been 333, so obviously it would only be providing emergency sustenance, more likely in the form of injuries and accidents and not outright deaths. Green Valley, population 126,000, was eighteen miles beyond Red River and -- for its size -- has a high rate of homeless, as well as unemployed youth disenchanted with society, both of which prevented opportunities for Martin to feed without gaining too much attention.

But the best bet would be New Hampton, with a very pleasing population of nearly half a million, was just another ten miles beyond Green Valley. Martin had operated in smaller population zones for decades before his hunting had gained him an unwanted level of attention. And Martin had altered his eating habits as well, killing far less than he had before the electronics age put cameras on street corners, inside businesses, and -- scariest of all -- in nearly ever citizen's hand in the form of a camera phone.

Martin looked to the house and smiled, both on his face and in his heart. He'd spent the last dozen years in hiding, making new contacts, creating a new identity, and rebuilding his fortune. It was nice to have a real home again. The house was nearly 25,000 square feet, built of stone blocks and heavy hardwood beams. Its original occupant had been told the house would outlive him by two hundred years. Martin chuckled at the thought, wondering whether the architect could have said they same thing to him.

Martin felt a tingle crawl over his skin. Time to go in.

He took one last look over the property as he lifted his mug of coffee to his nose and took in the steam with a deep breath. He released the air with a slow, sad sounding sigh. He missed drinking coffee. He still brewed a cup most evenings, as he had done this mid morning, just for that wonderful scent. But he didn't dare drink it, of course, not unless he had food at hand -- and not just a snack, but a full life-extinguishing meal.

He shook his head and chuckled. There are people out there, he mused, who you don't want to be around until after they've had their first cup of coffee in the morning. He recalled seeing a mug in a gift shop that sported the warning, "Give me coffee ... or die!" For Martin, of course, it was a bit different: Give me coffee ... THEN die! He'd never understood why caffeine should affect him so dramatically now, when -- as a human -- he'd barely even notices the affects after his morning cup of jo. It was like an aphrodisiac, sending him on a wild craze of a search not for sex but for blood.

He drew in one more deep breath, dumped the coffee into the lawn, and headed back inside for a nap. Day light walks took all the energy he had. Again, he chuckled; he could still remember his great-grandfather making that same comment about energy after the then-12 year old Martin used to help him on his daily walk around the block, after which the old man would practically collapse into his deep, leather chair for an hours-long nap.

Martin might be nearly 179 years old by the calendar, but he'd physically aged only a handful of years in his century and a half as a Vampire; should he really feel like great-pa after his walk, physically he was only in his thirties?

Oh well. There's always a fix. The body down in The Chamber might be dead, but there will be plenty more like it in the clubs or on the streets or at the college frat' parties tonight in New Hampton. He'd just have to take a drive after dark -- maybe take the Ferrari, for the extra attention -- and get something, or someone, to eat.

 

[HerNameIsFlinka]

January 2011:


Terrance Cramer went silent until the next song began blaring from the bar's juke box. He learned over the table of the corner booth and said with great emphasis, "I can't do that. I'd be disbarred if anyone found out."

Martin gave the man a wide smile, turning on his beyond-human charismatic charm. "I'm not asking you to do anything that would get you disbarred, Terry. I'm just looking for ... let's call it a heads up."

Terrance glanced around for eavesdroppers, then continued, "You want me to tell you when a client is desperate ... so that you can take advantage of that desperation!"

"No, no," Martin corrected, even though every word the small town lawyer had said was right on the spot. "Not take advantage ... assist."

"Assist? How?"

"With money. I want to assist them financially..." Martin reached into his jacket pocket, withdrew a thick envelope, and tossed it onto the table before Terrance, adding "Just as I am assisting you, Terry."

Almost before Martin had finished the man's name, Terrance snatched the envelope and pulled it to his lap out of view. He growled, "What the hell? You're gonna get me thrown in jail."

"No, Terry," Martin again corrected the man as he gathered his jacket and stood from the booth. "I already kept you out of jail."

Martin donned his jacket, taking a moment to adjust the collar and pull his wallet out to pay the passing the waitress for the dinner and drinks he and his new friend hadn't yet finished but were done with all the same. He leaned over the table, bringing his face down to Terrance until their eyes, just a few inches apart, were set firmly upon one another. He smiled, a friendly smile, then said politely, "Terry, I only want to help you ... help Red River, and it's citizens. You can help me help them. All you have to do is let me know when someone in town has ... a need ... a need for help that you can't give them."

Terrance's hands trembled nervously; the stiff paper of the envelope he clutched in his lap crinkled so loudly that he could hear it over the soft country crooning coming out of the music machine across the bar. "And ... if I help you help them..."

"I will help you," Martin said, standing tall and offering his hand.

Terrance took his benefactor's hand -- this time without nervously looking about for witnesses; his mind wasn't fully where it should have been, just as it hadn't been weeks earlier when -- for reasons he still couldn't explain -- he'd confessed to Red River's new resident that he was being extorted with statutory rape charges after he took payment from a local girl he was defending for petty burglary charges. Somehow, Mister Brinn had made the problem simply go away; shivers still raced up Terrance's spine every time he saw the girl around town, but she had ceased her calls to him and rarely even gave him a second glance when she herself noticed him. He had no idea how Martin Brinn had handled the situation -- he was sure it had to do with a large payment -- but he really didn't care; he wasn't in jail! All's well that ends well, he told himself.

"So, Terry," Martin prodded, squeezing the man's hand just a bit tighter for emphasis, "we have an understanding? You'll give me a call now and then?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

Martin smiled and departed quickly, calling out a thank you to the waitress, then the bar tender, before he exited into the dark night.

Terrance waited for the door to close behind the man, then -- yet again looking for nosy bar patrons -- opened the envelope's flap and pulled his thumb across the edges of the hundred dollar bills. Officially, the two thousand dollars was a retainer for future legal services; unofficially, it was a very illegal bribe for Terrance Cramer wasn't just Red River's only practicing lawyer but was also Red River's lawyer, the Town's advocate in all matters. It was a position he'd held for nearly two decades, giving him a very in depth knowledge of the happenings about the small, mountain community.

As he stood, donning his rain coat and stuffing the envelope into it, he contemplated the eagerness that Martin had shown in getting to know him those several weeks earlier. He knew it likely had to do more with his position as the town's advocate than as a simple small town lawyer in and of itself. He wondered, if he hadn't confessed to Martin that he'd been looking at rape charges, jail time, disbarment, and public humiliation, would the man still have been so eager for an association with him. Yes. Yes he would have.

Martin, Terrance knew, was looking for the inside track on the doings about Red River. He wasn't exactly sure what it was that the obviously well-to-do man was after; he wasn't sure that he even wanted to know. After owning the former Wagoner Estate for six months, Martin Brinn was still a man of mystery to most of the town's residents. He seldom came into town, and to the best of Terrance's knowledge had never come in during the day when most of what remained of the town's shops and services were still open for business. When he did come to town, he was usually in the bar, the cafe across the street, or the restaurant at the far end of Main; he was always with someone, so residents who didn't know him felt awkward about simply walking up, introducing themselves, and attempting to get to know the new man in town.

Terrance adjusted his coat, then leaned over the table to grab up and take one last drink from his tumbler of whiskey; with his other hand, he inconspicuously snatched up half of the tip his dinner partner had left behind, then headed out into the night. As the harsh, late March air rushed down his collar and up his sleeves, a shiver raced up his spine. He thought about the cold and its effect on him -- then wondered whether it was in fact the cold that was responsible for the tremble that had surged through him. His life -- business and personal both -- were likely to get more interesting as time went on, and the reason for that, he was certain, was the new man in town, Martin Brinn.

 

[HerNameIsFlinka]

Another reserved parking, or posting, space.

This one will introduce bits of Martin's past that other writers might find interesting for their own postings.

 

[HerNameIsFlinka]

And last but not least, one more parking space.

This one introduces Martin's arch enemy, who won't come into the picture for quite some time. I only introduce him here because it's a good way to present some exposition of how martin got to Red River.

FYI: I hope to have all three of these posts up by the end of day, April 4th. I can't imagine that if anyone wants to join and post before I get these up, that there will be any problem. Most of your early posts will only peripherally involve Martin anyway.

 

[scarlettnuit]

Dani had been riding for the past several hours in the cab of 18-wheeler mack truck. It’s driver, Steve, had been kind enough to pick her up several hours ago. At first, she thought she would be able to get through this leg of the trip unscathed, however, Steve had a different perspective. He started to try and touch Dani, something she was not fond of. Her knee at first, which she tolerated for the sake of the ride, but then he pulled over to the side of the road and expected more. The trip ended with Dani’s dagger pinning Steve’s hand to the truck’s dashboard. Dani had taken the money out of his wallet and had then proceeded to leave Steve where he was to contemplate his situation.

She wasn’t entirely sure where she was, only that she was in some kind of podunk town. She walked the streets, this was a town where little was open very long after dark, and it was already 10 pm. She eventually came upon a bar that was open and headed inside. She sat at one of the tables and flashed her fake ID when she was carded, and then ordered some food. It had been ages since she had eaten, and though the food was probably not the best at this particular establishment, she knew the burger she ordered would probably taste better than gold.

The service was slow, but she didn’t mind. She was so tired from all the traveling that it felt good to sit down for a moment. She sipped the beer that had been brought to her earlier and leaned back into her chair. Just as her burger was brought to her, a cop came to her table, with a rather angry truck driver in tow. The cop yanked her up and started to drag her out of the bar and towards his cop car. She couldn’t believe that it was ok for this truck driver to try and rape her, but heave forbid she take the $30 bucks out of his wallet. She was fighting the cop hard as he tried to get her into the back of his car, her eyes going to Steve as she spat in his direction. She kept fighting but she hadn’t eaten in several days, and it wouldn’t last forever.

 

[babygurll1968]

Anna's Corner Cafe

" Order up!" Came the burly voice through the opening to the kitchen,the dinging of the counter bell loud. Green eyes flashed annoyed as the petite female moved to lift the plate. "Damnit,Tex, There is only one customer in here and you have to go blasting my ears drums."

Annabelle Demarcus tried to seem annoyed but her eyes crinkled as she burst out laughing. The small,chubby man that looked back through the hole at her seemed offended. She blew him a kiss and turned to set the plate down in front of Connor Glen. An old timer who seemed to be as old as this town. He gave her a toothless smile before he lifted a forkfull of potatoes.

Anna leaned against the counter for several long minutes,her mind wandering. She loved this place,but times were tough. Rent was coming due,suppliers needed paid. She had only 6 customers today,not counting Connor at 9 pm. She refused to give up,she would find a way out of the red,she always did. She shook her head,walking around the counter to wipe down the alread clean tables.

She could hear Tex in the back,whistling like usual. Tex had been her cook for the 4 years she has owned the place. He didn't come from Texas,but he could cook the best Tex/Mex food around. She lifted a hand to shove a stray strand of her feiry red hair from her face. Neck damp with sweat as she opened the door and leaned against the jam,looking out into a town that had seen better days. The big cities were draining all the small town businesses dry,peopl didn't want small anymore. Most wanted big,fancy forms of entertainment nowadays. Sighing softly she turned and re-entered the diner as Tex began to argue with Connor about how he cooked. Some things just never really changed.

 

[HerNameIsFlinka]

"Tazer the bitch!" the truck driver hollered as he watched the Sheriff's Deputy struggling with the pissy little wench who'd stuck a knife clean through his hand and into the dash of his truck. As he clutched at the bloodied tee shirt wrapped around his appendage, he let his eyes wander over the girl's petite form and suggested quietly, "Tazer her, Sam ... then we'll take her out to where the kids park to fuck and show her how we deal with--"

"Shut up, Steve!" Sam hollered back over his shoulder. "Go inside and have Maggie look at your hand.

"A fucking waitress?" the trucker exclaimed. "I need a hospital."

Sam had his hands full with the little fireball he was trying to get into the patrol car, otherwise he would have pointed west and reminded the asshole trucker that the clinic had shut down and Doc Hayward didn't do after hours calls for guys who likely deserved to have their hand cut off.

The Deputy wasn't getting anywhere with the girl while her hands were free. He spun her toward the car's tail end, slammed her down against the trunk, and set about cuffing her. "Listen little lady. This can go easy, or hard. It's up to you."

"Hard!" Steve voted from behind Sam. "That's how I'd do her."

She responded to the trucker's suggestion but -- as the door to the bar opened, spilling the loud music of the juke box out onto the street -- Sam didn't hear the response. He likely didn't want to know what she said. As he moved her back to and through the door, he began, "You look like the type who already knows all of this, but ... You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to a lawyer. If you cannot--"

Movement caught his eye and he looked up over the top of the patrol car to see Red River's Court Advocate exiting the bar, the man's attention on the excitement at hand. He slammed the car door shut without finishing and headed around the back of it toward the local lawyer. "Hey Terry, you better get out the powdered wig. I've got one for you to charge in the morning."

"What did she do?" Terrance Cramer asked, having been exiting the men's room just as the mayhem inside had been ending. "And where'd she do it."

"She stabbed me in the fucking hand!" the trucker called out from the garbage can he was sitting on nearby. "And robbed me ... of ... two hundred bucks!"

Terrance looked over to see Steve display the red stained tee shirt. "First off, you don't have two hundred dollars to your name, Steve, and second--"

"I do too!"

"Then you'll be at City Hall tomorrow morning, then," Terrance continued quickly, "To pay your fines for that illegal firework display last Fourth of July ... right? The fine you said you couldn't afford to pay...?"

The trucker diverted his eyes away guiltily.

The lawyer continued, "Second, I'm sure you did nothing to deserve what ever happened to you as well.?"

"Hell no, I didn't!" the man lied. "Gave the bitch a ride, and she stabbed me! That's all!"

"Steve," the Deputy cut in, grabbing the trucker by the arm and leading him to the bar's entrance. "Go inside. Find Maggie. Have her fix your hand and get you a double. Let me handle this."

The still fuming man headed inside, growling how he'd handle punishing the scrawny little bitch.

The Deputy turned back to Terrance and handed him the fake ID and what he assumed was her real one, which he'd pulled from her pocket while he had her laid over the back of the cruiser. He remembered the lawyer's earlier question and answered, "Assault with a dangerous weapon, resisting arrest, possession of false identification, trespassing, illegal consumption of an alcoholic beverage, fraud ... tell me when to stop, Counselor."

"Where did this take place?" the lawyer asked, leaning down a bit to get a better look at the girl sitting inside the cruiser. When he saw the Deputy make a duh gesture and point toward the bar, he clarified, "Where did this start? Where did the assault occur?"

"Out on Bennett Road, just of the highway." Sam smirked. "I think old Stevie-boy was thinking about getting a little before he went home to the little lady."

"I won't be prosecuting her," Terrance said, ignoring the Deputy's off colored remark. "But ... I will likely be defending her."

Sam's eyes widened a bit. "Come again?"

"Bennett Road and Highway 122 are outside the City Limits," the City lawyer explained as he reached into his suit's outside breast pocket and removed one of his business cards. "Therefore, it's a County issue. Red River will not be charging her with anything, let alone prosecuting her."

Sam pointed back at the bar. "What about all the other stuff. Resisting arrest, the fake ID, the beer--"

"County problem," Terrance interrupted. He gestured toward the patrol car's back door and asked for it to be opened, continuing his explanation, "The City can't afford a trial that can so easily be put off onto the County, Sam. It's better just to give the whole thing to them. If she gets jail time, she'll be sitting in one of their cells anyway. It's better that they prosecute her, then if we do and then have to foot the housing bill out of the City budget."

Terrance could also have added that by putting the case in the County's hands, it freed him up to collect some Public Defender pay by defending the girl, money he wouldn't get if he was on the other side of the court room filling the City's role of Prosecutor. Better to leave that detail out, even though Sam has probably thought of it already himself.

Terrance looked over the IDs and thought, It's not often a DMV picture looks better than the girl in real life. He glanced through the car's window; the girl -- who according to the supposedly-real ID was 18 -- was emaciated and obviously exhausted; she was badly in need of a hot meal, a shower, and a make over, but Terrance could see a potentially beautiful young woman somewhere behind all that black makeup and anger.

"Give us a minute," Terrance asked as the Deputy opened the cruiser's back door. Once Sam had moved a few yards away, Terrance knelt down beside the car's open door and smiled to the girl inside. He held the business card up before him, said, "Hi. My name is Terrance Cramer. I'm a lawyer. I'm your lawyer, unless you have a better option."

 

[scarlettnuit]

Dani couldn’t believe that the trucker had the audacity to sit and watch all of this…and call out to them like they were a wrestling match. Tazer her? “I’ll tazer you’re balls you piece of pathetic scum!” she yelled back at Steve. She was then slammed against the cop car and cuffed. She still tried to fight what she felt was an unjust situation, but it was difficult to do without the use of her hands and she was wary and tired.

She sat in the back of the cruiser, tired, but still immensely pissed off. She could hear what Steve was accusing her of and in retort, she yelled obscenities at him, though to the men outside, they were nothing but muffled rantings. She finished and then leaned against the back of her seat and waited to be hauled away to whatever Mayberry jail they were going to take her to. Just then, one of the men opened the door.

She braced her body, ready to kick at the man if she had to. Given it was such a small town, she imagined that any of them could take advantage of her, or try to, and no one would be the wiser. This man, however, introduced himself as her lawyer.

“Look Mr. Cramer, that ass monkey tried to rape me. He’s lucky worse didn’t happen to him. I didn’t take shit from him other than the ride he gave me. Everything started out fine until he pulled off the highway. Had he not tried to grab at me, things would have ended different.” She told him with a calm intelligence. “If anyone needs to be put away it’s that asshole. Now is Barney Fife over there going to let me go or what?” she asked.

 

[HerNameIsFlinka]

The woman was yet again wiping down the tables of booths that no one had sat at since Martin had begun watching her. Just shortly after sun down, he'd parked the big SUV on a side street off Main, kitty-corner to "The Corner Cafe". He'd been surprised to find the cafe open this late; small towns that had bars that served food -- even if it was just fried chicken and jo-jos -- didn't normally have late night cafes as well. Why would a small country kick go sit in a Mom and Pop cafe when they could hang at the bar, watch the basketball game, and get drunk?

As if supporting testimony to Martin's opinion, the cafe had only had two customers in the hour that he'd been watching. One, an ancient man who Martin was surprised to see had been able to ascend the establishment's steps, was sitting now at the counter, sucking on a bowl or soup or potatoes or the like. The other had been a much younger man who'd flown in to pick up a take-out order which he'd slipped into a back pack, then -- causing Martin to shake his head -- snuck into the bar across the street just in time, Martin assumed, for the big game's tip off.

Martin fired up the big rig, moved it to one of the many empty spaces on Main, and -- waiting for the woman to disappear into the back -- entered the little restaurant and headed for the rear. He took the booth in a back corner, near the rear entrance and within sight of where he'd come in. More than a century after he'd stopped wearing a six-shooter on his hip, Martin still retained some of the defensive habits that had protected him during those dangerous days of the Old West.

After a moment, the woman emerged again from the back, immediately catching sight of the new customer and opening her eyes wide with surprise.

Martin's eyes widened with surprise as well. While he'd heard a great deal about the cafe -- about its owner, and its owner's financial difficulties -- from his most recently acquired informant, Terrance Cramer, Martin had never seen the woman except through the cafe's window, and usually at the maximum speed limit as he was passing through town to Green Valley or New Hampton.

Annabelle Demarcus was simply stunning, even with her fiery red hair and immaculately applied make up pushed to the limit by what Martin assumed was yet another never ending day of yet another never ending work week. She was short, certainly less than five and a half feet, Martin thought, and attractively fit, like an long distance runner or gymnast.

Suddenly, as the beauty headed his way with a menu and a glass of condensation covered ice water, Martin found himself reassessing his goal for "The Corner Cafe". Terrance Cramer had told him first that the cafe's owner had been attempting to keep the business open 24/7, which -- of course -- were Martin's favorite kind of hours to be kept, be it cafe or bowling alley or blood bank; but then, second, had told him that there was no way that Annabelle was going to keep her business at all, let alone open. The entire town of Red River was on the verge of closing; and to make matters worse, Annabelle was having an "issue" with her Ex-Husband, something the local lawyer was out of touch with now that the couple's divorce was finalized and he no longer had his fingers in their affairs.

His goal had simply been to offer Annabelle some low or no interest refinancing, in an effort to keep the cafe open long term. Martin wanted a place where he would be welcome at anytime of the night, and in this state, the bar and restaurant -- which served alcohol and therefore restrictive licensing guidelines -- would always be closing their doors by 2am. It was always nice to have a place where people could hang out at night; it was where Martin met most of his future donors.

But now, as a bit of his human male side woke up out of sight below the table he was bellied up to, Martin began to consider other arrangements as well, more personal arrangements. It suddenly occurred to him how long it had been since he'd gotten laid by a beautiful woman who he hadn't subsequently fed upon, then had to dispose of in one fashion or another.

As she stepped up to greet him, Martin couldn't help but think to himself, God, I love redheads.

 

[HerNameIsFlinka]

Terrance Cramer (with Dani)

“Look Mr. Cramer, that ass monkey tried to rape me," the girl said. "He’s lucky worse didn’t happen to him."

Terrance had no doubt that she was telling him the truth; Steve Jacobs was a creep today, was a creep yesterday, and would be a creep tomorrow -- and it wouldn't be a knife through the hand that changed that, but instead would be a bullet through the brain.

"I didn’t take shit from him," she continued, "other than the ride he gave me."

Now this Terrance did question -- quietly, to himself -- as he listened to her go on about the incident with the trucker. The girl had essentially admitted stabbing Steve with her comment, He’s lucky worse didn’t happen to him. How hard was it to believe that she'd availed herself of the contents of his wallet as well.

Of course, her confession about the stabbing would never be heard in court: first, she'd said it to him, and he had no obligation to repeat her words; second, she hadn't actually said she stabbed the man, only that he was lucky that worse didn't happen to him; and third, he'd been listening to Deputy and knew for a fact the he hadn't fully read her rights, which in this State was the same as not having read her her rights at all.

But, whether her confession would or wouldn't ever be heard was a moot point. This case was never going to court because the County didn't prosecute simple assault cases -- even those involving a weapon -- unless there was a corroborating witness. Like so many people, businesses, Cities, and other Counties in this struggling economy, Hampton County didn't have money to prosecute cases that didn't guarantee a slamming cell door.

So, she would walk.

"Now is Barney Fife over there going to let me go or what?” she asked.

She would walk ... but not tonight. Terrance answered her question bluntly. "No, he's not letting you go."

The girl's reaction was about what he'd expected. He gave her a chill gesture. "I don't know if you're a good news, bad news kinda person, but ... I have both for you. Let's start with the bad news first. Sam has to take you to the station, he has no choice, not as long as Mister Jacobs is..."

He saw her expression lean toward confusion and clarified, "Mister Jacobs ... Steve, the ass monkey."

Terrance thought he saw a bit of a smile on her lips but the sharp contrast between the car's dark interior and the bar's bright exterior lights made it hard to tell. "Like I said, bad news ... you'll spend the night, but ... the good news ... the jail here is warm, and dry, and comfortable." He smiled broadly, adding, "I spent the night there once during a freak snow storm that shut the roads down. Nice. And Samuel there..." Terrance jerked a finger over his shoulder at the Deputy who was beginning to show an impatience to get out of the cold wind beginning to shoot through the middle of town. "Sam is the worst Gin player you'll ever meet, so ... penny a point, you could take him for twenty, thirty bucks before he's finally had enough."

A sudden bright light down the street-- maybe head lights, or a reflection of glass -- caught Terrance's attention and looking up he was reminded of two important things.

"Anna, down at The Corner Cafe," he continued with a knowing smile, taking out a pen and scribbling on the back of the business card he'd shown her, "she's got the best cook in town working for her, and she'll have anything you want cooked up and brought down to the jail. The Sheriff's office doesn't have a kitchen, so ... Oh, order the pie ... any pie. Best crust in the County."

Terrance turned the back of the card to the girl, and took a more serious tone. "And this ... this is important. You get a phone call. Call this man, and only this man. He'll post bail for you. You'll be out before any one even considers transferring you to the County lockup. I will ensure it ... if ... you make this call."

 

[scarlettnuit]

She saw the way he looked at her when she said she hadn’t taken anything from Steve. The amount she took was a misdemeanor at best and there was no way to prove she had taken it. That was the good thing about cash, it was harder to trace.

She sighed a bit as she heard she wasn’t going to be let go. She stared straight ahead, trying to think of a way out of this situation. She could claim self defense and hope that this little town didn’t try to stick up for the asshole. It was self defense. Despite appearances she didn’t randomly attack people, she just liked to be left alone. It was only when they tried to touch her that she started to get defensive.

She sniggered a bit as the asshole was called “Mr. Jacobs”, as if he deserved to referred to with any level of respect. “I figured.” She replied simply when he clarified who Mr. Jacobs was. It was kind of comical to hear a lawyer use the word “ass monkey” however, and she smiled slightly..but just as quickly removed the expression from her lips. “I suppose you know I’m right about his ass monkey-ness then.” She said.

She then listened to him speak about the comfort f the jail. She smiled a little as she heard him say he himself had spent a night there, and the thought that she could take the deputy for a few bucks…which she would do for the pleasure more than the money. She then heard about the café.

“There’s a café open right now in this little town?” she asked with some curiosity. She then moved her arms a bit and sighed. “Can he uncuff me at least? I won’t cause any more problems. I just have a bad experience with cops…and I figured in a town like this they might treat me worse.” She told him. “I have money in my pocket…I’ll take chicken fried steak with mashed potatos and gravy, green beans, and a big hunk of peach pie if she has it. If not, any pie would be nice…and a Dr. Pepper…” she said, sounding like a reasonable intelligent person, now that it seemed she wouldn’t be left to the wolves.

She raised her eyebrow as she was handed a card and was told to call the man listed on it. She knew very well how nothing came for free, and there was no reason for this guy, whom she didn’t know and surely did not know her, to help her. “Why is he going to do that? And what does he expect in return?” she asked, clearly skeptical.

 

[babygurll1968]

Anna moved into the back room,her eyes sparkling as she watched Tex arguing to himself. "Damn fool kids..'He muttered as he glanced at the small TV sitting on a counter beside him. "Ain't no way i Hell,I would let my kids run around in them clothes." He continued to grumble as Jersey Shore played on,the cast in tight jeans. The guys shirtless and the girls in dresses that shouldnt have been able to cover the curves they were on.

Anns snickered as she moved across the room,her hands wrapping a clean apron around her small waist. "Tex,not everything you watch on TV is how it is."She said trying to sound serious ,watching him.

His cheeks flushed right up to his ears,his hands almost lost grip on the plate he was washing. He gave her that look that told her he was still strong enough to bend her over his knee and tan her hide. She let out a laugh and looked around as the sound of a customer caught her ears,patting Tex on the arm,she turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Her hand reaching for a glass and filled it from the pitcher of ice water as she went. She pushed open the door and walked out to see Connor had left sometime after she had walked into the kitchen. He was a quiet old man when he wanted to be. She moved to the table in the back and sat down the glass,pulling out her pad,she almostdropped the pen she was holding. The man in front of her was a knockout,not just handsome but drop dead gorgeous. His eyes held hers for several seconds before she regaiined her composure.

"Hey there,welcome to the Corner Cafe.'She said hearing the tremor and soft squeak in her voice. She wanted to kick herself for acting like a schoolgirl. "I'm Annabelle,or Anna to the locals. Anything ya wantjust yell.'She said then realising she forgot to get his order.

"Sorry, what would you like?"She said feeling the heat creep up into her cheeks,just as a guffaw of laughter escaped from behind her. She flipped her head around and saw Tex leaning in the serving window,laughing at her embarrassment. "Tex,get your ass back on them dishes!"She called out actually sounding serious this time which made Tex laugh all the harder as he vanished from view.

She waited for the newcomer's order,the phone ringing in he kitchen barely caught her attention. She could hear Tex mumbling but couldn't tell what he was saying. Then the pots and pans began to clatter,almost smiling she knew he was cooking. Looking into the stranger's eyes,she couldn't help but stare. Finally she sook herself slightly and looked down at her pad.

"ANNA!WE GOT US AN ORDER AT THE JAILHOUSE. a LITTLE FILLY HAS GOT IN SOME TROUBLE BUT IS HUNGRY AND TIRED!" Tex shouted out over his banging in the kitchen.

Anna nodded to herself before lloking back at the man sitting before her. She gave him a smile finally finding herself again. " Sorry about Tex...he grows on ya if your here long enough."She said giving him a smile as she pushed the stray hair back behind her ear once more.


********************

Tex hummed as he made the order for the jailhouse,wondering what the little filly had gotten herself into. Not many people,let alone young folk,come to Red River anymore. He was even more surprised at how hard Anna was fighting for her diner. He had become the father figure to her since she had noone,but damn sometimes he wished he was many years younger. He had many chances to leave the town once it began to crumble,but he had never wanted to go. Just like Old man Connor,85 years old and still refused to admit the gold rush was over.

Tex pulled off his apron and slid the order into the bag,smiling as he lifted the can of Dr. Pepper. Not many asked for that anymore,he thought as he closed the bag. Stopping at the window he set the bag through and saw Anna talking to a new customer. He decided to take the order himself. He walked through the door and grabbed the bag. Stopping long enough to add the pie to another bag.

"Anna,gonna run this over to the Jail. You gonna be alright?"He asked giving the new guy the look one parent would give a teenage boy. When he saw her nod he grumbled and walked out of the diner. The jail was only down the road and it didnt take him long to get there. He opened the door and walked inside. "Sam,got your prisoner's order. Sounds like she is a mite hungry."Tex said as he set the bag on Sam's desk.

He also took the oad on Sam's desk and wrote down a couple of things. 'Look,if she needs a place to stay when she leaves or a quick job..." Tex said as he slid the Diner's number and address towards Sam. "Send her to Anna,you know she will help her out." Tex saw the look Sam gave him when he wrote down all the info and laughed. "Dont worry Sam, I know you know where it is,but the little filly dont. Sometimes the directions you give could get a person lost standing still."Tex laughed as he slapped Sam on the arm and turned . Leaving the jail and heading back to the diner.

 

[HerNameIsFlinka]

“There’s a cafe open right now in this little town?” his new client asked.

Terrance smiled wide, as if to say believe it or not.

The girl twisted, showing Terrance her bound hands. “Can he uncuff me at least? I won’t cause any more problems."

Terrance listened to her describe her experience with Authority, but all he could do was shake his head.

“I have money in my pocket," she continued, making the lawyer smile a bit, wanting to ask Don't you mean Ass Monkey's money?. "I’ll take chicken fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy..."

Terrance listened in silence -- ignored politely, actually -- as she began listing what amounted to most of the menu at The Corner Cafe. His mind was on the little diner, as hers was, but his thoughts were on the cafe's current customer, not the food served there or desired by the girl before him.

Terrance's mind was on Martin Brinn, who he'd seen entering The Corner Cafe an hour or so earlier, just as he himself had been heading into the bar for his nightcap.

Martin had approached him a couple of weeks earlier, asking him for what he called a heads up on issues occurring in and around Red River. He wasn't exactly sure what Martin's interest was, nor was he in a position to really ask a lot of questions. Martin had done him a favor, a favor for which Terrance had neither asked for nor received many details; he could certainly do Mister Brinn a favor in return, and in the same fashion concerning the details.

Annabelle Demarcus, he'd explained to Martin, had issues: she was on the verge of having to close The Corner Cafe for the same reason that half of Red River's businesses were boarded up, a lack of profitability; and on top of that, her Ex was causing her an unbearable amount of grief that, Terrance could only assume, was nothing more than common everyday revenge -- no man liked to find out that his former wife could get along just fine without him.

"...and a Dr. Pepper,” the girl finished, bringing Terrance back into the current conversation.

"You make your call to the cafe, order your dinner. Don't worry about money ... the City'll foot the bill." Terrance flashed the business card again. "Mister Brinn is probably still in the cafe. You tell who ever answers that Terrance Cramer--" He tapped a finger to his chest. "That's me, remember? You tell them that I said Mister Brinn should come down to the Sheriff's Office first thing in the morning." He leaned in closer, showed the card again, then -- being careful not to appear inappropriate -- slipped the card into her pocket, saying with emphasis, "Remember ... Terrance Cramer ... Martin Brinn ... first thing in the morning ... otherwise, you'll find yourself on your way to County, and once you're out of town...". Terrance just shrugged.

“Why is he going to do that?" The girl asked, obviously referring to Martin. " And what does he expect in return?”

Terrance stood, grimacing at the pain in his knees from the long crouch. He wasn't sure how to answer her question; he honestly didn't know how to answer her question. Martin wasn't even expecting a call from the girl; Terrance, himself, was making an assumption that Martin would be interested in the girl's situation. Who wouldn't? Despite her current state, it was obvious that she was just what everything a man -- any man -- wanted: young, beautiful, sexy, and -- Terrance thought -- experienced in life.

He did have one concern, though; it was pretty obvious that she had a problem with men, likely a result of abuse sometime during her life. Terrance began to wonder whether or not it was a good idea to be sending his benefactor a girl with such an unknown past. This could turn out very good ... or very bad ... for Martin, for Terrance, and for... really?

Terrance smiled, surprised at himself. He waved the Deputy over to finish his business, and turned back to the car. "What the hell's your name anyway?"

 

[scarlettnuit]

Before she knew it, Terrance Cramer was gone and the deputy was driving her to city jail. It wasn’t a very long drive, and the jail wasn’t very big, but it was empty, for that she was thankful. The cell she was put in was small and neat and had a small narrow bed with a surprisingly comfortable, for a jail cell anyway, mattress.

Since there wasn’t a female officer present, she wasn’t able to take a shower, but she was able to order the food she wanted. She also followed Terrance’s instructions when she called to place the order. She wasn’t sure what good they would do, but she was happy that the food was on it’s way. When it arrived she felt like she was in heaven. The food was still steaming hot when it arrived and for a moment, she basked in it’s glory. She had to remind herself to eat slowly. She knew if she didn’t, it would all just come right back up again. Every bite was absolutely delicious…and then she got to the pie. She knew that anyone who could make something so orgasmicly good, couldn’t be all bad. She would have to thank the cook at the café before she headed out of this little town.

When the deputy came back around to ask if she wanted anything else before lights out, she showed him the cards that Terrance had given her and that apparently this Brinn guy was going to be there first thing in the morning according to her lawyer. She had never been able to used the phrase “my lawyer” before, so it was at the very least a novelty.
The deputy then shut off most of the lights in the small cell block and she crawled into the little bed. She was so tired from traveling, and from the large meal that she had just consumed, that she feel asleep quickly…though not too deeply. She had never allowed herself to sleep deeply enough to not defend herself. She dreamed of the day when she could finally have a long deep sleep.

 

[HerNameIsFlinka]

"Hey there, welcome to the Corner Cafe," Anna said, her voice trembling just enough to be noticeable. Martin felt a little less uncomfortable about his sudden display of lust as he listened to the beauty fumble her greeting. He looked directly into her eyes with a slight, knowing smile, which likely didn't help her along; she finished her greeting and prepared to depart, then stopped suddenly as she realized she hadn't taken his order. "Sorry, what would you like?"

Anna's face flooded with red, which only made Martin smile wider. For a moment, his ego was boosted by the idea that at his age, he could still make a woman blush. Then, he reminded himself that although the calendar might say he'd be 178 next month, he still only looked to be in his mid-30s.

He opened his mouth to order just as laughter erupted from beyond the cafe's owner. Anna turned and lashed at her chuckling cook. Martin took the moment to look the little redhead over, only confirming his opinion of her looks; Annabelle Demarcus ... was ... simply ... stunning.

She turned back to Martin and waited for his order. He tore his eyes away from her to glance over the menu. He grinned a bit again; the menu looked like it hadn't changed in twenty years. They had simple text descriptions of the choices, accompanied by prices written on little pieces of paper that Martin assumed covered old, lower prices. Martin wondered whether Anna hadn't changed the menus simply because of the expense -- after all, why change menus for a cafe about to close? -- or out of respect for the cafe's history.

Of course, she may have simply been playing with the mind of the snobby rich guy, pulling one of the old ordering relics from under a dusty counter. Terrance, his informant in all issues Red River, had let it slip a few weeks back that Martin's lack of public appearances in town, combined with the fact that he'd often been seen driving through town without stopping, was gaining him a reputation as an uppity, arrogant prick.

Martin was, of course, concerned by this news. He had a plan for Red River, and alienating the locals was not part of it.

Martin didn't really care what she served him tonight and was about to simply tell her to bring him the special when she was distracted first by the phone ringing in the kitchen, then the cook's indecipherable mumblings -- which even Martin was unsure was his talking to the person on the line or to the redhead before him -- and finally by the cook's call of, "Anna! We got us an order at the jailhouse. A little filly has got in some trouble but is hungry and tired."

"Sorry about Tex," Anna apologized with a smile to Martin. "He grows on ya if your here long enough."

"I plan to be," Martin responded quickly. Unsure of whether Anna had understood his meaning, Martin elaborated, "In Red River ... I plan to be here for a while. I like it here."

He was eager to see her reaction, but flinched, looking down and grabbing at his chest suddenly. He laughed as he withdrew the Blackberry from inside his jacket. "Damn thing. Never had one that vibrated before."

There was a loud clash of metal in the kitchen, at which Anna turned and glanced back. Martin was relieved she was looking away, because now he was blushing, which he couldn't remember having done in years. Never had one that vibrated? You couldn't have said something more embarrassing, like "Wanna go to the prom with me, do ya, do ya?" He handed the menu out to her and, needing a moment to regain his adult composure, said, "I'll take the special and a large milk, but I need to get this."

Anna nodded, took the menu back, and turned away.

Martin watched her depart -- watched her with great interest -- then answered the phone with a simple, "Yes?"

"Mister Brinn?" a man's voice answered.

"Speaking," Martin acknowledged, diverting his eyes from the cafe owner as she glanced back from the milk dispenser.

"This is Deputy McBride, down at City Hall," Same informed him, "Do you have a moment, sir?"

Martin hesitated, uncertain first of why the Law would be calling him, and second of how the Deputy had gotten the number to this phone; Martin kept three separate phones for the separate aspects of his unconventional lifestyle, and the only person who had access to this number was Terrance Cramer. "Of course, Deputy McBride, what can I do for you this evening."

"Well, first off sir, you can stop calling me Deputy McBride," the man said with a chuckle. "Round here, everyone calls me Sam."

Martin laughed. "Well, in that case you can stop calling me Mister Brinn ... or sir. And since I can't repeat what you said about everyone, I'll just say I'd be pleased if you'd be the first to start calling me Martin."

"Yes sir ... I mean, yes, Martin, I'd be pleased to."

Martin turned his attention back to Anna again, watching her as she gathered up silverware, napkins, and all the other things that he'd need for the consumption of his ... Suddenly, he realized that he had no idea what the Special even was. Oh well, I'm sure it will be good. "What can I do for you tonight, Deput... Sam?"

"We brought a young woman in tonight," Sam explained with a very professional tone. "Her lawyer, Terry Cramer ... I think you have had dealings with him...?"

"Yes," Martin answered, wondering how he should describe his relationship with Terrance. "Mister Cramer is handling some legal documents for me."

"Well, Terry is representing this girl ... this young woman," Sam corrected. "And, be'ins that I'm down here alone tonight and needed to put her behind the doors ... well, basically, I made her one phone call for her ... called in her dinner order ... and, well, I forgot to ask Tex to put you on the line."

Martin was again surprised. Why would this girl, who ever she was, be looking for Martin? Unless ...

"Deputy ... Sam, can you give me her name?"

"Danielle Weatherby's what one of her IDs says," Sam replied with a doubtful tone. "I asked her if that was her real name, but she just ignored me. Kid's got a lot of attitude is you ask me. Course, I would to if my introduction to Red River was getting my ass ... my self thrown into ... Well ... I'm getting into details I shouldn't be, so--"

"What exactly" Martin cut in, "did Mister Cramer indicate my involvement here was?"

"Said you'd post bail," Sam answered. "I had the feeling you knew the girl...?"

Again, Martin hesitated, unsure how to answer. He looked up to see Anna coming back his way. He lied, saying, "Yes, Sam, I do. How's an hour work for you?"

"That'd be fine, Mister Brinn," Sam answered slipping back into his formal nature. "I'll have the paperwork ready."

Martin stuffed the phone back into his pocket and smiled up to Anna as she set down the assorted items in her hands. Beyond her, Tex emerged from the kitchen, shot a look toward Martin and his boss, then announced, "Anna, gonna run this over to the Jail. You gonna be alright?"

Tex gave Martin a stern, protective look, then -- seeing Anna nod -- headed out.

Anna smiled and said, "I'll check on your order for you."

Martin's eyes followed her all the way back into the kitchen; then, on her return with her hands full of his dinner, watched her once again. When her hands were empty, she asked, "Is there anything more I can get you?"

"How about a hundred and twenty three nutritional, hot lunches," he asked. When Anna gave him a questioning look, he continued, "Low fat and sodium, balanced of course. Are they still using that pyramid thing...? Monday through Friday, until mid June ... except for legal holidays and teacher conference days, I understand."