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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: R. Racial slurs used in context.
Pairing: Sharice Watters/Sir Ivy/Georgia Sykes
Feedback: Good lines, typos, etc.
Disclaimer: These don’t belong to me. I’m making no profit.
Notes: Smokin’ Aces post-film.
Summary: A little post-mayhem regrouping.
***
“Sir Ivy? Sir fucking Ivy? What jumped-up nigger kinda name is that, huh?” Sharice sashayed up, all glowering eyes and hip-hands.
“Sharice—“ Georgia started.
“And what you think you doin’ here, anyway? Come to get your reward for being the white knight? Oh, you swoopin’ down like Prince Charming to keep our princessy dresses out of the mud--well, let me tell you, I ain’t no raggedy-ass Cinderella and—”
Georgia put her head in her hands and sank into the armchair. First she owed that rogue Fed one, and then there were the doctor’s bills, and now this. “Sharice, c’mon, you just out of jail...”
“Hold on, honey, hold on. I’m talkin’ to this fool right here,” Sharice snapped, putting up a hand. Oh no, she hadn’t just--well, see if she was getting ‘round ‘doctor’s orders’ any time soon for anything.
“And I’m respectfully listening, ma’am,” Ivy suddenly said. He clicked his heels together and looked down at Sharice, all six-foot something of him. “Just till you get you’self all tied up in a knot and come a little closer, and then I’m gonna smack you one. Nothing personal, not sayin’ you some bitch needs the slappin’, necessarily, but there’s no need to be disrespecting a man’s name like that before we even introduced.”
Dead silence. Sharice’s eyes were about popping out, and hurt side or no side, Georgia got ready to get in there.
“All right, I can get that,” Sharice suddenly said. She stepped up and put one finger against Ivy’s chest. “Just as long as you read this: you make one move, and you gonna get a fifty-millimeter up your ass. Now, I’m Sharice and this here is Georgia.”
Ivy’s lips twitched. “We’ve met.”
“Yeah, I bet.” Sharice slid herself between Ivy and Georgia, and for a moment Georgia wanted to slap that presuming ass, because this sure as hell wasn’t getting rid of the patriarchal oppression. This was just replacing it. “And now that we all know each other, why don’t you just move on along n—”
“All right, that’s it,” Georgia muttered. When it didn’t look as if she’d been heard, she sat herself up and hit Sharice on the hip. “That is it, damn it. Sharice, this man carried me outta hell and down twelve fucking flights of stairs. Twelve! Now you’re going to sit your nasty ass down and offer him some water, at least, and—”
“—and how am I supposed to offer him water like a fucking maid if I’m sitting, honey?” Sharice snapped, twisting around. Her eyes were damn near bugging out of her head.
Georgia—just didn’t have the energy. She just didn’t. Her damn side ached like all hell and her head ached and she just didn’t give a flying fuck. She slumped back and stared up at the other woman, and Sharice mad-dogged her back, and Georgia just stared.
The quiver started in Sharice’s lip, of all places. She bit her lip, and then her face just sort of went all crackly and she went down. She went down so fast Georgia thought maybe Ivy had gotten all fed up and belted her one in the kidney, but then Sharice grabbed her knees and Georgia knew that wasn’t it. Not that that gave her any more of a clue what to do, though.
“…sorry, baby, I’m so sorry…never should’ve taken it…” Sharice was sobbing. Flat-out, dead-honest sobbing, and clutching at Georgia’s knees till the flesh turned white and just, Jesus. Jesus. “…you were dead, saw you lying there…”
“Oh. Oh, Lord.” Georgia let her hands hover over the other woman’s head, then finally put them on Sharice’s shoulders. She left them there for a second before tentatively wrapping her arms around Sharice’s head; her side twinged and she grunted, then shifted to lay her cheek on Sharice’s hair. “I’m not dead. I’m not dead.”
She completely forgot about Ivy till something rattled, and then both she and Sharice started up, their hands automatically going to their sides. Sharice pivoted so her back hit Georgia’s shins.
“Just getting myself that glass of water,” Ivy said quietly. He poured from the bottle he’d just uncapped—the rattle had been its top hitting the dresser—into a tumbler. “Listen, ladies. Last thing this nigger needs is more trouble, so after I have this drink, I’ll leave you be. All I’m looking for is somewhere quiet to sleep tonight. You reading me?”
Something touched the side of Georgia’s calf, and then Sharice slid her hand down to cup the top of Georgia’s foot. She squeezed it once. “Yeah. Yeah, I reading.”
Ivy nodded and sipped at his glass. He’d gotten a chance to shower and change clothes, but he didn’t look it, the way the skin grayed beneath his eyes and the cuffs of his shirt stuck out unevenly from his coat.
Sharice tipped up her head, sifting Georgia’s fingers out of her hair. “Twelve floors, huh.”
“Yeah,” Georgia said.
“Yeah, well…you don’t snore, you can stay one night,” Sharice told Ivy. “We don’t need the other bed.”
He flicked a look at them that might’ve been him catching on, though Georgia would’ve thought he would’ve gotten it already, what with Sharice’s screaming. But then, maybe it was something else.
“Thanks, Sharice,” Ivy said.
Georgia kissed her on the head, and reached down to grab her hand.
* * *
Georgia had to lie on her back, and even then her side still hurt like a bitch. She’d gotten some pills for it before she and Ivy had scooted out of the hospital ahead of the police coming to interview them, but they were in the bathroom. And at night, in the dark, after one hell of a week, that was a long walk.
Still, it was getting to the point that it was that bad, and she was trying to muster up the energy to drag herself out of bed when she heard the other bed creak. Then it groaned, and a foot hit the floor. Then the other foot, slow but unsteady, almost a stumble, and Georgia raised herself over Sharice just in time to see Ivy’s dark form lurch into the bathroom. The door swung shut. A line of yellow appeared at the bottom, and then there came twin thumps.
“Wha…” Sharice stirred, turned over “…what’s that fool doing now? Shit, Georgia, our—”
Ivy threw up. Hard, the sound of his choking almost drowning out the splashing of the toilet water. He started gagging near the end, like somebody had shot him in the throat, and suddenly Georgia flashed to something she’d seen in that hall, something that’d used to be somebody only all that was left was a big chunk of bone sticking out of—she put her hand to her mouth, pressing hard.
“Georgia?” Sharice whispered. She sat up, looking back and forth between Georgia and the bathroom door. “Babe?”
“Pills,” Georgia managed to croak out. “My side.”
After a moment, Sharice nodded. “All right, I’ll get them. Don’t you move.”
She slid off the bed and padded over to the door, which she uncharacteristically knocked. Ivy stopped throwing up for a second, then started again. The door wasn’t all the way shut, so it moved and a big vertical crack of yellow appeared. Georgia laid down on her good side and watched the side of Sharice’s face that the light touched up, like somebody had dragged a paintbrush around its outline. The other woman could see into the bathroom; her eyes were moving, and once she winced. She chewed on her lip, then pushed the door open some more and went inside.
“Never…never fucking seen anything like that…” The door was blocking Ivy from view, but his voice carried, hoarse and horrified and heavy. Like lead in the gut. “God…God, and I’ve done some bad things. Did ‘em all for Buddy, that fuck, got blood on my hands and then got nothing for it but I never been that fucking—psycho. Those psychos ripped into us with chainsaws…were gonna do it to Buddy too and Jesus, they didn’t even know him.”
There hadn’t been time to really fill Sharice in on those redneck fucks, and frankly, Georgia didn’t even want to—think about that. What she’d seen, it was so far beyond anything she knew—anything human, and she’d seen some right nasty pieces of that on the streets.
“Spit it all up,” Sharice said, tight-voiced. “You let that shit get stuck in your throat, it’ll burn you just like acid.”
Ivy coughed, then laughed. And then he did spit, and then followed up with a heave. “Shit, woman, your girl saved my fucking life from them.”
Sharice hummed, her back moved a little to the right. She knocked over something and cursed, then hit something that rattled like a pill bottle.
“I just want to get out of town. After that…fuck, I just want to leave,” Ivy sighed tiredly.
The sink faucet started to run, and then Sharice moved behind the door so all Georgia could see was that trickle of water. The toilet flushed. Sharice came back, turned off the sink, and went out while Ivy blocked out the light with his tall body.
The moment Sharice handed Georgia the pills, she tried to snatch them back. “Shit, I forgot water.”
“I got it.” Ivy stopped by his bed and leaned over to hold out a fresh glass of water.
Georgia sat up but couldn’t reach it, and when she stupidly tried to stretch, her side caught her but good. She swore, slapping a hand to it, and Sharice’s arm instantly went around her. The other woman jerked her chin at Ivy. “Shit, what’s wrong with you? Come over and give it to her.”
He shot her a look that Georgia couldn’t read because of the dark, and then he slowly crossed those couple of feet to give Georgia the glass with his damn fingertips. Georgia snickered, then gasped and slowly rolled over as her side went off again.
“Men are fools,” Sharice pronounced, and held up Georgia’s head to take the pills and then the water.
“Yeah, sometimes. Can’t say they ain’t never that, considering what I’ve seen.” Ivy paused, then cautiously sat down on the edge of the bed beside Sharice.
Georgia pulled her head out of Sharice’s hands and closed her eyes. “Would y’all shut it now? I want some sleep.”
“Sorry, baby.” Sharice slid her arm under Georgia’s legs and moved Georgia over, then curled up against her back. Then the bed dipped again, and Sharice stiffened. She twisted around so her elbow bumped Georgia in the shoulder. Somebody sucked in a breath. Somebody else blew one out.
Then, slow as molasses, Sharice laid down and so did Ivy.
* * *
Later in the night. Georgia isn’t sure about the when, or exactly the how, but she’s curled up on her good side and Sharice’s breath is blowing warm and wet against her neck, Sharice’s fingers lying so careful on the side-wound. But the fingers between her legs, just pressing up at her clit through her panties, they’re longer, broader. More hesitant, just there when Sharice would’ve just gone on and hooked down that flimsy cloth, gotten right to it and made Georgia shake like a leaf in a storm.
Sharice, she nuzzles into Georgia’s neck and Georgia raises her head to help her along and sees Ivy staring right back, whites of his eyes gleaming. His hand moves a little and Georgia’s breath catches. Then she arches and Sharice grunt-groans, presses her face into the tops of Georgia’s breasts and Georgia reaches up and threads her fingers into Sharice’s hair to hold her there. The other woman moves real slow, real careful, her knee sliding over Georgia’s thigh and then going up in the air, and Ivy glances down at the top of her head and Georgia knows where his other hand is now. Bathroom light’s still on. His back’s to it, but there’s enough light on his face for Georgia to see he still hasn’t caught up on his sleep, still seeing horrors and sorrows.
Sharice hisses, always the impatient one, and her hand slips down to tickle Georgia’s cunt, her fingers weaving through Ivy’s as they edge aside the scrap of cloth getting in the way and start stroking the honey-heat down there. She mouths Georgia’s breasts when Georgia winces. Ivy’s head drops back, and soon Sharice is getting bumped as much as she is bumping.
The drugs make Georgia fuzzy, maybe. Loose, drifting except for that random spark of pain and the slow build that cuts out, sending her flopping back onto the mattress, before she even really knows it’s happened. She’s a little angry about that, but mostly tired. She just looks on as Sharice twists once, twice, then clings onto her for dear life. As Ivy’s head lifts suddenly, his eyes all eerie white, and then as he rolls heavily off the bed and steps into the bathroom again.
By the time he’s back, Sharice is already asleep, her arm carelessly over Georgia and her head still nestled against Georgia’s chest. Ivy barely looks at them as he lies down on Sharice’s other side. His head lands on the pillow and his eyes shut almost immediately, and then his face slowly begins to smooth out. But Georgia’s gone herself before she sees him relax all the way.
* * *
“You ain’t bad, I guess,” Sharice muttered. “You ever catch up with somebody with brains who’d have something worth the heaviest bitches in town’s time, you remember us.”
“Think I’m gonna anyway, dear.” Ivy smiled, and Sharice didn’t blow his head off though she did have a gun out in front of her. He raised a hand.
Then he was out the door, into the hard white light of day, and out here it was so damn strong it could even blot out a fullblooded black man like him. Georgia squinted, turned away. She’d never missed the Strip so much before. “I can’t wait to get back home.”
“Yeah, baby, I know. But we’re going. We are blowing this joint,” Sharice said, and got up to give Georgia a hand to her feet.
***