Marloes Samantha Bell / Vestige's Story

Current time: 8:37pm -- The top floor of The Gala'vox Hotel, New York City, New York

The party was loud, the room was decorated in overly lavished design, and the music was so dull and orchestrated that no one was bothering to dance but the older wealthy couples who'd finished dinner and had too much to drink. In her own corner Ellie let out a laugh, holding the wine glass with her fingers delicately laced around the thin spine. She wasn't sure what had been said, but she knew better than to not laugh at the joke.

It was your average high society party... And it seemed to drag on forever. Had it really only been twenty minutes since she arrived? Granted, checking the phone in her clutch for the time would be considered rude, but come on. With a bright smile, granting everyone little room to protest her affable appearance, she excused herself from the current cluster. A few steps back, a right around the corner, and quickened paces down the hall led her straight to the nearest washroom.

She felt it crawling up, like a spider in it's natural habitat, teeth piercing to inject you with venom until you finally... And there it was. Vomit, everywhere, all over the seat of the toilet. She gagged a few times, hands at either side of the porcelain god to stabilize herself, purging everything she'd eaten within the last hour or so. When nothing else came, she straightened up, pulling on the toilet paper and neatly folding it in to a triangle. Using it, she dabbed beneath her eyes to control the mascara that had begun to run once she'd broken a sweat working up the episode.

Staring back in to the mirror, she had a silent conversation with herself. It went about in the usual way, and somehow, her mother's voice crept in to her mind, taking over control of the conversation and demanding better results. Were those bags under her eyes? My, she was a single woman nearing thirty - a starlet, unmarried! What was she waiting for? No man was going to come around calling to a woman with the freshman five fresh at her stomach, covering up the abs she worked so hard on. Turning around to gaze at her backside, the low dip dress hinting at her shape just above her waist, she pouted at the rump she'd acquired. She made a mental note to choose her next meal much more carefully.

Ellie took one last look at her physique beneath the coral satin silks that adorned her like a Greek goddess, her curls rolling down the length of her back - covering up what her dress failed to. Starved eyes looked back at her, but the make-up applied afterward would take care of the facade to protest it. When all was said and done, she pushed against the door.

And managed to, like the poor klutz she was, smack it right in the face of a man she didn't know who'd happened by. She brought up a hand to her lips, eyes wide. Embarrassment turned to horror as she spotted the trickles of blood beginning down his nose. On a quick thought, she looked around for anyone to be watching and reached for his arm, attempting to pull him in to bathroom she'd just left. Closing the door behind her, she finally spoke, frantically humiliated. "I'm so very sorry, very sorry about your nose. Hold still and I can wipe it, okay? I'm sure there's something in here that will work."

Before he could respond she spun around, looking up in the cabinet pantry for a spare hand-towel. Naturally, she found the most expensive out of internal spite for the party and decided it would be the best to ruin with blood. Turning back to him, she let out a laugh, shaking her head as she poured some warm water from the spout on the cloth and brought it over to him. "Come on, lean your head back on the back of the toilet. It'll stop soon. - Oooh, did I break it? God, I hope not." As he leaned back, she dotted his face with the wet portion of the towel, biting her lip as she leaned over him for a better view.

When the bleeding finally stopped, she let out another laugh and winked, "I really am sorry. You'll be okay, now? I'll make it up to you. Save me a dance back out there?" Without another word, she fluttered out the door with her dress trailing behind her. Back to the ballroom, to forget any of it ever happened and to put as much distance between the awkward encounter as possible before word got out to the magazines that she was 'assaulting' patrons and celebrities in passing. -- Or dragging them to the bathroom with her during a party. How scandalous! My publicist would have a field day... Did I really just ask him to dance with me?

“Daddy,” a small voice squeaked as the bathroom door shut once more, “is that you?”

Jackson groaned, pressing the rag against his nose as he inclined his head once more. His little girl was standing right in front of him now, worried about her father and the blood that was draining from his nose into what appeared to be a solid silk pocket square from one of the geezers in the next room over. He nodded and smiled as best he could, though only one corner of his mouth was visible behind the cloth.

“Sure is, Shortstack,” he replied. His voice was nasally from the cloth pressed against his face and the blood drying in his nostrils.

Instantly, her worry vanished and she ran over to his side, laughing all the while. She pressed a kiss solidly against the side of his face.

“You sound funny, Daddy,” she said with a smile. “Oh my gosh, was that Vestige? Daddy, she’s so pretty and she’s like…my most favorite singer in the entire world.”

“I know she is, honey-“

“I mean, she just sounds so pretty on the radio and then you actually see her and she’s even more pretty than she sounds!”

“She definitely is, sweetie,” he replied as he pushed himself to his feet and tossed the pocket square into the trash. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and sighed loudly at the sight of the bloody streaks that were now decorating his face. “I hope you’ll forgive me if I’m not as excited as you are to make her acquaintance, though. Have you still got my phone?”

Alexcis looked down at the smartphone in her hand and then looked back up to her father’s face with a frown. “But this party is sooooooooo booooooring, Daddy. I really just wanna play Angry Birds. Can I, pleeeeeeeaaaaaassssssseeeeeeee?”

“After I call your Uncle Ralph,” he replied with a nod. “You’ve been a good girl getting all dressed up for this and acting like a little lady, so I think you’ve earned some Angry Birds time.” Alexcis’s face shone bright with a newfound grin as she pushed the phone into Jackson’s hand. He dialed the number quickly and put the phone to his ear with one hand as he began to wash his face with the other.

“Biggsy,” came the gruff baritone from the other end of the call. “I’ve been trying to call you for the past thirty minutes. Where are you?”

“Ladies room of the Gala’vox ballroom,” he replied as patted his face dry with a legitimate hand towel. “Alexcis needed to go to the bathroom and then I got assaulted by my new charge who doesn’t know who I am from Adam. I thought she knew she was getting a glorified babysitter, Ralph.”

“Close,” the elder man replied. “Her mother knows who you are because she hired you. How’d she assault you?”

“Good ol’ door to the face trick,” Jackson replied. “It was all an accident…I hope.”

“I hope nothing’s broken,” Ralph said with a laugh. “We’re meeting them for introductions outside the coat room. Seemed like as quiet a place as any to do something like that. Five minutes, and bring me a Scotch with you.”

“Yeah.” Jackson hung up the call and held the phone out to Alexcis, who snatched the thing right up and went back to playing Angry Birds. “C’mon, honey. Let’s go meet your idol.”

“Mmkay, Daddy,” she replied absently, her eyes glued to the phone.

When the lights went out, she didn't think once about the danger it could mean. Her mind was pushed in to the dark, where everyone stood there, startled at first. It was once the strobe lights came on and the music changed tempo that the terror turned to thrill, thrill turned to thrive, and thrive turned to excitement. The party livened up, people started danced. Hands were in the air, and before she knew it, Ellie's hands were taken, thrown up in to the air with them. She laughed with them, but no one could hear anyone else in all the noise.

Minutes of this lasted until the next interruption went off. Just outside of the window, presumably from the rooftops just above, fireworks began going off. Between the loud volume of the music, the cheers, and now the fireworks going off... No conversation would take place. The elderly began crowding the halls, the middle aged stood and scowled before finally joining in, and the younger crowd jumped with even more enthusiasm.

No one suspected a thing.

Whether it was intentional or not, a punch was thrown. Then another. Pushes, shoves, and it all seemed movements of dance before a fist met Ellie's cheek, and then her stomach. She was flung against the closest people to her - more of the younger crowd, the dancers, and she couldn't tell if they were part of the mosh pit that had formed, or if they were catching her. Their hands were on her arms, pulling her away. She laughed, trying to be the best sport about it.

"What a night! I wasn't expecting all the ruckus!"

No answer, but more pulling.

"Thank you for catching me. I'm not much of a mosh-er," She admitted as the sound in her ears began to drown out, and her voice more present.

No answer, and they were a good twenty feet away from the others, now.

Ellie dug her heels in to the rug beneath her feet, pulling her arm back. The clutch in her hand was lost in the motion, in to the person's grasp. It was then that Ellie bothered looking them in the eyes, noting that even in the dark, they were a bright hue of blue. Flawless blue. The rest of them was covered in a black mask, pulled over their face.

They were being robbed, she deduced. And despite the scene over here, everyone else was craftily distracted with fireworks.
Her tone was less of fear and more frustrated. Her brows furrowed on the person, immediately trying to determine their height in comparison to her own. They had to be a foot taller than her, at least, which wasn't exactly difficult, but it let her know they were at least six feet when she reported them to the NYPD. Six feet and blue eyes. Possibly male.

"Take it. I don't need the money, okay?" She held up her hands in surrender, stepping back in to someone else.

"Uncle Ralph!"

Alexcis charged the older man and managed to shove her shoulder into his stomach with enough force to knock the wind out of his lungs. Ralph double over and gasped hard for a second before putting a hand out to ruffle the hair on the little girl's head. Alexcis growled and pulled away from Ralph's assault and began to fidget with her hair.

"Watch out, boss," Jackson said through a chuckle. "She might not like getting all dolled up like that, but she's got Angry Birds on the line if she's not the best little lady tonight."

"Yeah, well the little linebacker almost took me down," he replied with a smile. "I'd say she pretty much deserves whatever noogie she gets." Jackson finally let his focus drift away from his bossman and his little girl to realise that there was a woman standing to his left. She looked a little too on the proper side, even in a stuffy party like this, to be anyone that Ralph would ever think to get along with, which only meant one thing.

"You must be Aimee Bell," Jackson said with a smile and a nod. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

The woman was the embodiment of apathy, and apparently parties did not help the matter. Her eyes drifted from the party-goers to Jackson, eyeing him in appraisal. She looked then to Ralph, and back again. With a tone dripping in disinterest, she wrinkled her nose, "And you are?"

Spotting the girl in her disaray of hair, she absent-mindedly primmed her own gray strands back in to the strict bun she wore. She was dressed for a funeral, as news reports led everyone to believe she still grieved her husband who'd been dead a few months now. Her lips were as pruned as picked feet, her eyes a dull grey.

"My name is Jackson Biggs, ma'am," he said with a smile, though his voice was a bit more subdued after gauging her expression a little more. "I'm the man from Carson Securities that has been hired to look after your daughter for however long. I just wanted to introduce myself formally to you and your daughter before we have to get into anything more business-like." From somewhere below his line of sight, Alexcis cleared her throat. "Oh, and this is my daughter Alexcis."

Alexcis grabbed at the hem of her dress and went for a deep curtsy, but lost her balance and fell forward. Ralph caught her, chuckling. "Close enough, kiddo. Now...where exactly would your daughter be hiding, Miss Bell?"

Before Aimee could answer, the music from the ballroom changed from its orchestral beginnings into the thumping bass of a rave party. As if it couldn't get any worse, the sound of exploding fireworks from right outside the building just added to the cacophony, and something didn't feel right about it in the slightest. Jackson looked down at Alexcis, who was pressing the heels of her hands into her ears with all the strength she could muster, then turned his gaze to Aimee.

"Isn't in a little early for there to be these kinds of... festivities," he asked, his voice cranked up high enough to just barely be heard over the noise. Aimee's eyes widened and she looked towards the source of the noise and then back to Jackson. He sighed aloud and nudged Alexcis towards Ralph.

"Take her somewhere where she's not at risk of losing her hearing, please," he yelled. "And take Miss Bell with you. I'll be out in a minute with the party girl." Ralph nodded and lead the two ladies away from all the noise as quickly as he could, tossing a look over his shoulder to Jackson that said, "Less than five minutes, please."

"I know, and I forgot your Scotch, too," Jackson muttered to himself. "Time to end the night on a high note." He turned towards the ballroom and opened the door, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing, really. What had been a stuffy, high end party was now a full blown rave with black lights and everything. This was no mere happenstance or act of rebellion in the face of the hoity toity people that attended this party. Someone meant for this to happen, and it had Vestige written all over it.

His eyes ran a full scan of the room until he caught a glimpse of his client. Jackson huffed out a heavy breath and started towards her slowly at first, and then quicker as he saw her being dragged into a forming mosh pit. He pushed his way through the pissed off geezers that had left the dance floor and then through the young ones that had taken it over just as quickly.

Just what I need, he thought. She's going to come out of this all banged up and then it's going to be on my head with her mother for not keeping it under control. Someone punched him and someone got punched in return. Now his fist was aching and there was someone unconcious on the dance floor, but everyone seemed to part for him pretty easily at that point. He tugged on his charcoal grey suit jacket to smooth out the wrinkles and just nodded to himself.

Then he found her, but she wasn't alone. A tall figure stood before her, clad in all dark and a ski mask that covered their entire face. Jackson's heart sped up as he touched the outline of the gun he had tucked in the waistband of his pants. Neither of them had seemed to notice his approach until she back directly into him.

Jackson wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly into him. "Hey man, thanks for keeping her warm for me," he said with a nod and the most stereotypical California surfer boy accent that he could muster, "but this pretty young thing promised me a dance and I'm here to collect." Before the masked man could react, Jackson pulled her into the crowd and pushed her towards the door.

"Move. Now. We're getting you somewhere safe."

"You do," Jackson replied with a nod. "But we can't stay gone forever, Miss Bell. I've got a daughter that I've got to get back to, and you will have to go to Los Angeles at some point." He leaned down from his seat and picked up the blanket that he'd thrown across the floor and started folding it carefully. When he finished, he stowed it under his seat and kicked back, crossing his right leg over his left knee.

The silence was needed, and if Marloes had been a religious gal, she'd thank God for it. While she had a plan, she was adaptive. He'd chosen to come along and she had no intentions of making his life a total hell. Not when he needed to get back to his little girl. That little bit dug a knife of guilt in to her gut, thank you very much, Mr. Biggs.

As the train began it's 'I'm stopping now, get the fuck out' routine, Marloes looked up to see Jackson standing.

"So, what's the plan?"

She rose up to meet his gaze, throwing a routine smirk up at him. Genuine smiles were earned, and this smirk was trademark for the starlet.

"Something tells me you're not a man who enjoys surprises," Poking around the compartment, she let her pillow and blanket tossed about on the bench. She retrieved a piece of gum from her pocket - but only after straightening her wig - and offered one to him. "This is yours -- Don't give me that look. It's actually for you. Kind gesture."

---

She didn't offer him much in the way of details, nor did she plan to. As it was well past midnight by the time they arrived in Boston, her sunglasses were pushed up in to the wave of black curls, red jacket pulled tight against the brisk air of autumn. Looking over her shoulder, "Did you sleep well, or enough? Do you need more, or are you ready for the first piece of our adventure?"

On that thought, Marloes let out a laugh. "By the way... I'll make a truce with you. Okay?" She turned on her heel to face him, attempting to place a hand on each shoulder, as if he would bring his focus from anything else. "I'll make your job easier by sticking by, and not giving anyone an idea that it's me without good reason. I will endeavor to keep you alive, and to get you home soon..."

She fluttered lashes at him playfully, though it was hard to tell if he could see her in the lamplight in the dark. Her hands fell from his shoulders.

"... But the price is, you have to trust me. And you have to play along with my games." She licked her lips, the mint of her gum prickling the skin. "And right now, coffee or a motel is the game. What will it be? Personally, I'm a fan of overpriced coffee -- which leads me to another rule --" She paused, slipping her hand in to his as she begun to lead the way (or attempt to.) "--I pay."

To say the cold shower was simply a joke would be ridiculous. Even Marloes knew ice would melt to the touch at this point and it had little to do with the weather - or air conditioning units within the famed library. "Let's stay, then. Just a little while longer."

To be honest, she'd had every intention of continuing her rebellious adventure between the shelves, pulling out books and stashing pieces of cash, signatures here and there, notes to no one.. But there was something about the way he held her - No, not only with his arms, but the pressure he applied to her body was not only of longing, but of experience. This was the exciting bit; Not knowing what someone's limits are, testing their boundaries with hopes of avoiding rejection - sorting a resolution once a question rose. Marloes found herself stifling her own joy, eventually slinking from under his arm and pulling the pair of them from their ecstacy.

Every tabloid jested about her experience. What was his?

Fingers locked as if to keep a chain that would never break, Marloes completed her unwritten mission. Upon exiting, a couple of whispers rose with actual tone and inflection until someone broke the murmurs with, "Is that Vestige!?" "What? Where?" "Oh my God, oh my God!!"

With a wave of her hand, Vestige was off in to a sprint with Jackson along with her as a shield from anyone coming at them from behind. She navigated the various civilians on the steps and called out to the cabbie who'd chosen to stay. He was leaning against his cab with a cigarette between two fingers, but upon her shouting, he tossed it aside with a step and slipped in to his vehicle. With Jackson opening the door for her, Marloes dove for the backseat.

She didn't stop laughing for a beat, this time. With Jackson in the seat next to her, even the cabbie could tell her eyes looked at him with a different expression.

"Where now?" He asked after he'd pulled in to the isolation of traffic, looking at the pair through the mirror with a smirk out the side of his cheek.

"You're still here!" Marloes grinned. "Need another autograph?" -- With a nudge from Jackson, she added towards the end, "Oh. Next stop is a home address. 8911 E Merinde Circle. It's outside of the city - but barely so. North and near the shore."

Turning to Jackson, she let out a breath that was hard to catch after their run. "Hungry for lunch?"