Thick As Blood

Cecelia realized that was probably the quickest she’d ever gotten her costume off before. She had torn part of the top, and would need to take it to a seamstress. She felt a pounding in her head. She was used to a few glasses of scotch before a stressful performance, but it had never hit her so hard before. She threw what was left of her costume to the ground and turned towards Richard who seemed slightly discontent.

He knew that Jimmy would have no problem getting home, as Richard and he were supposed to part ways at the Ritz anyway, and he knew that Jimmy was going to be angry with him. He wanted to curse Cecelia for being so damned irresistible, but Richard knew that it wasn’t just the sex he craved, but her company.

He seemed to calm down the moment her hand began to stroke his chest and shoulders. It was relaxing when she did this, and Richard took a comfort to it.

“I’m glad you’re safe.” She said giving him a soft kiss on his scarred jaw.

Richard caressed her hand, holding it against his chest.

“Are you. Mn. alright?” he asked her.

“I’m fine, except for the couple day I couldn’t escape Gillian, I don’t think I’ll ever get that time back.”

“I thought. Spending time with your mother. Mm. Should be something appreciated?”

“Not exactly.” Cecelia said. “Gillian’s not always the best for advice. Or company. Or motherly love.” Cecelia said.

“Then perhaps, mm. You and Jimmy have something in common.”

Cecelia clutched her head, hoping for some salvation. But it bothered her enough that she had to find something else to do. She put her hand back against Richard’s chest.

“…Tell me about Paris.” She whispered. “Is it beautiful?”

Richard took a moment to think about the question. Paris had a lot of memories for him. Good and bad.

“The painters there. Mm. They sit outside all day long working on the smallest details. They Mm. Must have drank more than. Mm. Ten cups of coffee a day.” Richard always thought that the good things were harder to remember, but for some reason all he wanted her to hear were the good things.
“The had. Mm. The best cigarettes. And it seemed to come alive. Mm. At night.”

“I’ve always wanted to see somewhere new. Some place beautiful.”

“What about Atlantic City?” Richard asked her.

“I like it more than New York… but there’s just something about France, or England that just makes me was to see it.”

“What I saw. Was beautiful.”

Cecelia’s hopeful eyes reminded Richard of himself before the war. He had been a man excited to serve his country, eager to see the world. And he had enjoyed it… until he was on the front lines. Somehow the countryside just wasn’t the same bathed in the blood of young men.

Cecelia could no longer stand the pounding in her head. She new vomiting would make her feel better, and as much as she didn’t want to get sick right now she couldn’t help it.

She picked up the nearest shirt she could find before wound up sick on the floor of her bathroom. She could see Richards shadow at the base of the door, obviously wondering if she was okay. She wiped her mouth with a towel and took her favorite bottle of whiskey from the drawer to rise out her mouth. She took another drink to calm her nerves. She realized that she had grabbed Richard’s dress shirt. It swallowed her small frame, she had to roll up the sleeves to keep them clean.

But that’s when she noticed the blood.

Cecelia looked at the spatter, it was mostly contained to the sleeve, but there were small flecks of red all across the shirt. He had either gotten hurt, or taken care of some business in New York. She rolled up the sleeve to hide it before walking out to meet the Richard, who was awkwardly standing, waiting for her.

“Mm. Are you alright?” he asked her.

“I’m fine, I just drank too much, then worked too hard.” She looked at the rumpled sheets on the bed, “Twice.”

Richard Tucked her hair back behind her ear, he sort of liked worrying about her.

“Would you stay with me Richard?” she asked quietly, she didn’t want to seem so needy, but she had missed him. His warm hands hadn’t held her for a week, she hadn’t been able to kiss his scars or make him groan when she kissed his neck, she wanted him close. “In case I get sick again, you can be here… to take care of me?” she asked.

Richard thought of Jimmy. He was probably long gone by now, and already mad. So if he stayed the night, where was the harm in that? It was already very late, and quite dangerous to be walking about at night.

“I would. Mm. Like that.” Richard told her. “I don’t want you to be alone. Those men. They’re. Always all over you.”

“It seems my beauty comes as more a curse than a blessing.” She said.

“H-how. Mn. Can you say that?” Richard asked, “being,” he tapped his scared cheek, “like me is more of a curse.”

Cecelia let her hands cup his face, one hand was against his rough stubble, the other across smooth scar tissue. Her eyes roamed over his face, looking for something that resembled a curse. One of her hands trailed down his neck with a fingertip lightly scratching his skin, until she got to the scar on his throat.

“I see a man who can’t lie to me. I can see in your one eye that you would only ever hurt the bad people – I can see that you went into the war a soldier, but came out as a protector. You are blessed Richard, with a good, and kind soul. I’ve always seen that. And it is beautiful.”

Beautiful. There was that word again, humming from her lips.

“I wish I hadn’t been so eager… Mm. To do this to myself.” Richard

“But it’s made you real. So much better than anyone I’ve ever met Richard.”

Now, here he was, standing in front of the most vied for girl in Atlantic and New York City. She was telling him he was profound, and beautiful. He hadn’t wanted to believe that something so real could be happening to him – it was all he’d ever wanted. And she was giving it to him.

And then there was Cecelia, a girl who had sworn to never let another man touch her. She had never meant to give her heart to anyone. But she could to Richard, because he would do nothing but cherish it.

She tickled his neck with her lips, she was sure that he could smell the whiskey on her breath. But she didn’t care, she only cared to hear that low grumble that would come from this mouth when she kissed the sweetest spot on his neck.
___________________________________________

Arnold Rothstein had been running New York for simply, fun. And now that his most profitable asset had run away, business was declining, and he wasn’t making as much money as he would like. The word of her whereabouts reached him quickly as her performance had exploded in Atlantic City. At first, he was wildly angered by her betrayal, as he put it.

But then his realization came to him that; perhaps her leave of absence would only cause more of a ruckus. Maybe once she returned to New York she would bring more tourists, more men, and newcomers. He knew that is was only a matter of time before she came running back to him. To him, she was property, something he had taken a bet on, and won. But like any other living creature – she had free will. She wasn’t physical money that could be spent; she had to be won over to do things.

When Charlie returned from Atlantic City he was slightly unhappy that his attempt at scaring her back here was unsuccessful. Now, he would have to act by force, and the only problem with that was that Nucky Thompson had given her quite the security package. But now that James Darmody had contacted him, with the most unusual request – things might just go smoothly.

A.R. wasn’t afraid to admit that he had done his research on Cecelia and where she came from. And he wasn’t surprised when the James Darmody wanted her out of the picture. She was quite the handful, and didn’t share the spotlight well, in fact, she didn’t share anything well. Arnold had gotten to the point, after spending nights at her shows with a reserved table, where he felt as though he deserved her time and attention. And the one night he went to cash in his dept, she ran.

But soon, soon he would have her back.