![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
A shady lady
I'm feeling generous today so I'm uploading the first excerpt from my Nano. This part fills out some of the shadier background of my main character's mother. The family is so snarky, although part of me is quite tempted to flash back to the "sparring matches" between Sofia and Ross.
Helena heard voices shouting downstairs in the shop. Looking down at the clock, she realized she must have overslept for a few hours, if her mother was already opening the shop for the morning. But it didn't sound like she had an agreeable customer. She should have sneaked back upstairs, but she stayed put, hidden behind the door to the staircase, listening to the conversation.
"Get out of my business and stay out!" Sofia said, her voice rising. "How many times have I told you I don’t want your kind hanging around here?"
Helena had never heard her mother sound so angry. But there was another edge she heard, masked deep behind the defiant words. Her mother was scared. She had never heard her mother frightened by anything. She was always fearless, facing down the worst customers with defiant charm. She had even convinced a robber he didn't want to hold up her shop after all, turning himself in to the police.
"My kind, dollface? Perhaps you’ve forgotten a certain arrangement with my boss..."
Helena wrinkled her nose. His accent screamed South Side with all those inflections on the wrong syllables. But from his lingo, he sounded like he had watched far too many gangster movies. He probably still wore pin stripe suits and drank cheap liquor. Either that or he was a leftover from a bygone era, when the city had its share of speakeasies and bootlegging.
"I have no business whatsoever with you or your boss," Sofia said harshly with rather brutal finality. "That part of my life is over."
Helena had never heard that tone of voice. Her mother almost sounded like a different woman, her refinement replaced by a harder edge. She almost didn't like that woman, afraid of what she might do to protect herself. Helena had always sensed that her mother had left behind another life before she opened the shop. Clearly someone thought Sofia was still involved in the racket. Or was trying unsuccessfully to lure her back into the game.
"If you’re holding out on us, snitching the goods out from under our noses, we'll find you and that pretty little daughter."
"Don’t you dare threaten my daughter! If you touch one hair on her head," Sofia said, her voice changing again to that harsher woman, "if you even breathe in her general direction, I will bring trouble on your head so fast, you won’t know what hit you." She said. "Don’t think I wouldn’t either." Helena listened in the silence, barely breathing. She could hear the unspoken implications hang in the shop, as they sized each other up. "Now get out."
Then the bell tinkled over the door, signaling someone going through the door.
"This isn't finished, doll, not by a longshot." Then Helena heard the door close behind him. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was about to go into the shop, when she heard another voice, slightly friendlier address her mother.
"You're keeping interesting company these days, Mrs. Giardello."
Helena stopped cold, hearing those first words. Something about the way he said her last name... If he deepened his voice just a little, he almost sounded like the man who had tried to get her away from the Winslow warehouse. But how did her mother know him? Moving slowly down the staircase, she peered through the slightly open door. Her mother had her back to the door, but Helena had a clearer view of her visitor. In broad daylight, he looked a lot less menacing than he had seemed in the warehouse. His black hair was flecked with more grey than it had appeared initially, but he still looked young for his age. He was dressed in an expensive Brooks Brothers business suits that reminded her of the senior partners at Cranston, Green and Howard, suggesting the veneer of very old money. What surprised her was the playful smile across his face, watching her mother. From his expression, he knew Sofia quite well.
"Believe me, it was not company I desired," Sofia asked. "What do you want, Ross?"
"Actually, I was looking for a necklace," Ross replied calmly. He hadn’t made any motions at any of jewelry in the display cases. Helena had the odd feeling he was playing with her mother, seeing what she knew. "Actually it’s more a collar, gold inlaid with diamonds and sapphires."
Helena frowned. She had seen a similar necklace somewhere recently. What had she been reading? She thought it had been the society page of the Times-Examiner, describing some matron's annual costumed ball. The society writer had been called the collar gaudy and ostentatious, appropriate for her nouveau riche circle. Her mother had laughed reading the article, agreeing with the assessment. Sofia hadn't particularly lingered over the photograph either. Her tastes seemed to run to the plainer pieces from the younger women. But why would he be asking her mother...
"Around here?" Sofia scoffed. "Shouldn’t you be looking a little more upscale?"
"Oh, I think not," Ross said. "You always had impeccable taste when you were younger."
"Emphasis on younger," Sofia said. "I’m not that woman anymore." She asked. "Who is the necklace for? Whichever of your socialite girlfriends you’re being seen with this week?"
"If I didn’t know you better," Ross said, leaning across the display towards her, "I'd say you were jealous."
"Ancient history," Sofia snapped. "Get to the point, why don't you? Do you I think I stole this collar?"
"Or acquired it through a source," Ross said. "Judging by your last visitor, you haven't completely severed your ties to the city’s underworld." He said. "Fact one: Mrs. Evelyn Sanford owned a similar collar until last night, when it was lifted from her home."
"She probably has insurance," Sofia said. "Why blame me if the poor dear can’t protect her valuables properly?"
"Fact two: you were the best jewel thief in the city," Ross reminded her. "Were you also aware that someone spotted a burglar on the roof of the Sanford home?"
"Oh, how amateurish," Sofia scoffed. She didn’t deny her former occupation. "Honestly, Ross, you knew me, you knew how I worked. Was I so clumsy that I’d be spotted by the average security?" Ross shook his head. "I'm a honest businesswoman now. I'm getting far too old to be climbing around on roofs, however dazzling the Sanford collection looked in the papers." She indicated the surrounding shop. "This life contents me now." She turned, just enough so Helena could see the languorous smile across her face. She was enjoying putting Ross on the spot. “But you do flatter me so... do you miss our little sparring matches?"
"What I missed was putting you in jail the first time," Ross said. "I never should have trusted you."
Helena heard voices shouting downstairs in the shop. Looking down at the clock, she realized she must have overslept for a few hours, if her mother was already opening the shop for the morning. But it didn't sound like she had an agreeable customer. She should have sneaked back upstairs, but she stayed put, hidden behind the door to the staircase, listening to the conversation.
"Get out of my business and stay out!" Sofia said, her voice rising. "How many times have I told you I don’t want your kind hanging around here?"
Helena had never heard her mother sound so angry. But there was another edge she heard, masked deep behind the defiant words. Her mother was scared. She had never heard her mother frightened by anything. She was always fearless, facing down the worst customers with defiant charm. She had even convinced a robber he didn't want to hold up her shop after all, turning himself in to the police.
"My kind, dollface? Perhaps you’ve forgotten a certain arrangement with my boss..."
Helena wrinkled her nose. His accent screamed South Side with all those inflections on the wrong syllables. But from his lingo, he sounded like he had watched far too many gangster movies. He probably still wore pin stripe suits and drank cheap liquor. Either that or he was a leftover from a bygone era, when the city had its share of speakeasies and bootlegging.
"I have no business whatsoever with you or your boss," Sofia said harshly with rather brutal finality. "That part of my life is over."
Helena had never heard that tone of voice. Her mother almost sounded like a different woman, her refinement replaced by a harder edge. She almost didn't like that woman, afraid of what she might do to protect herself. Helena had always sensed that her mother had left behind another life before she opened the shop. Clearly someone thought Sofia was still involved in the racket. Or was trying unsuccessfully to lure her back into the game.
"If you’re holding out on us, snitching the goods out from under our noses, we'll find you and that pretty little daughter."
"Don’t you dare threaten my daughter! If you touch one hair on her head," Sofia said, her voice changing again to that harsher woman, "if you even breathe in her general direction, I will bring trouble on your head so fast, you won’t know what hit you." She said. "Don’t think I wouldn’t either." Helena listened in the silence, barely breathing. She could hear the unspoken implications hang in the shop, as they sized each other up. "Now get out."
Then the bell tinkled over the door, signaling someone going through the door.
"This isn't finished, doll, not by a longshot." Then Helena heard the door close behind him. She breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was about to go into the shop, when she heard another voice, slightly friendlier address her mother.
"You're keeping interesting company these days, Mrs. Giardello."
Helena stopped cold, hearing those first words. Something about the way he said her last name... If he deepened his voice just a little, he almost sounded like the man who had tried to get her away from the Winslow warehouse. But how did her mother know him? Moving slowly down the staircase, she peered through the slightly open door. Her mother had her back to the door, but Helena had a clearer view of her visitor. In broad daylight, he looked a lot less menacing than he had seemed in the warehouse. His black hair was flecked with more grey than it had appeared initially, but he still looked young for his age. He was dressed in an expensive Brooks Brothers business suits that reminded her of the senior partners at Cranston, Green and Howard, suggesting the veneer of very old money. What surprised her was the playful smile across his face, watching her mother. From his expression, he knew Sofia quite well.
"Believe me, it was not company I desired," Sofia asked. "What do you want, Ross?"
"Actually, I was looking for a necklace," Ross replied calmly. He hadn’t made any motions at any of jewelry in the display cases. Helena had the odd feeling he was playing with her mother, seeing what she knew. "Actually it’s more a collar, gold inlaid with diamonds and sapphires."
Helena frowned. She had seen a similar necklace somewhere recently. What had she been reading? She thought it had been the society page of the Times-Examiner, describing some matron's annual costumed ball. The society writer had been called the collar gaudy and ostentatious, appropriate for her nouveau riche circle. Her mother had laughed reading the article, agreeing with the assessment. Sofia hadn't particularly lingered over the photograph either. Her tastes seemed to run to the plainer pieces from the younger women. But why would he be asking her mother...
"Around here?" Sofia scoffed. "Shouldn’t you be looking a little more upscale?"
"Oh, I think not," Ross said. "You always had impeccable taste when you were younger."
"Emphasis on younger," Sofia said. "I’m not that woman anymore." She asked. "Who is the necklace for? Whichever of your socialite girlfriends you’re being seen with this week?"
"If I didn’t know you better," Ross said, leaning across the display towards her, "I'd say you were jealous."
"Ancient history," Sofia snapped. "Get to the point, why don't you? Do you I think I stole this collar?"
"Or acquired it through a source," Ross said. "Judging by your last visitor, you haven't completely severed your ties to the city’s underworld." He said. "Fact one: Mrs. Evelyn Sanford owned a similar collar until last night, when it was lifted from her home."
"She probably has insurance," Sofia said. "Why blame me if the poor dear can’t protect her valuables properly?"
"Fact two: you were the best jewel thief in the city," Ross reminded her. "Were you also aware that someone spotted a burglar on the roof of the Sanford home?"
"Oh, how amateurish," Sofia scoffed. She didn’t deny her former occupation. "Honestly, Ross, you knew me, you knew how I worked. Was I so clumsy that I’d be spotted by the average security?" Ross shook his head. "I'm a honest businesswoman now. I'm getting far too old to be climbing around on roofs, however dazzling the Sanford collection looked in the papers." She indicated the surrounding shop. "This life contents me now." She turned, just enough so Helena could see the languorous smile across her face. She was enjoying putting Ross on the spot. “But you do flatter me so... do you miss our little sparring matches?"
"What I missed was putting you in jail the first time," Ross said. "I never should have trusted you."