News In A Red Dress

Posted on Mon Oct 10th, 2011 @ 6:18pm by Jackson Banning V

Mission: In Our Time of Need
Location: The Wormhole Bar

Gossip is just news running ahead of itself in a red satin dress. ~Liz Smith



As it turned out, the evening with Sulan went far better than the original one had 12 years ago. They had talked over old times, caught each other up on what they'd been doing over the years since, and had managed to actually finish dinner without Furlan running in to warn them of approaching danger. They'd finished the wine at the table, instead of on the run through the back streets, barely escaping. Nor did they end up at the waypoint where things had gone wrong and their lives had changed forever. All in all, Jackson counted the evening a success.

Still it had not ended up as perhaps Nenita and Janice might hope. After dinner, and plenty of talk, Jackson had walked her home to her quarters, politely kissed her cheek and said he'd see her at work tomorrow. After so long not seeing each other, neither of them was willing to jump into the deep end of the pool. They may not have aged, but both had changed, and the differences were enough that they'd need to get to know each other again. They were in no hurry. You never knew what or who was waiting around the corner and Jackson long ago became a man who went with the flow and tried not to plan too far ahead. It was the story of his life.

He was still wide awake, being the night owl that he was. While much of the station was moving to breakfast, Jackson and the other late nighters were headed elsewhere - his favorite dive.

The Wormhole was crowded as usual at 0600, filled with those coming off the night shift or still there. It was about a fifty/fifty mix, which accounted for the drunken revelry of those who'd lost count of how many times their glasses had mysteriously refilled. The waitresses, however, never lost count as the proprietor had a strict policy against staff drinking on the job. Someone had to keep track of all the drinks, and while the patrons might be surprised when the bill came in, the bar staff never was.

Shouts of welcome went up as Jackson stepped in, still in his formal white tuxedo jacket. The tie had long ago been slipped into a pocket. He waved, calling out greetings to various and sundry patrons as he made his way to the bar. Seyla, the Orion pain in his ass, was working this morning and as he reached the bar, she swatted two men away to make room for him. Then she pressed him back against the bar with the edge of her tray, leaning in and leaving Jackson to wonder how she could possibly move in the red satin dress that fit like a second skin.

"I thought you'd forgotten me, Jackson." She licked her lips as she eyed the open neck of his shirt.

"Funny thing, Seyla, I was hopin' the same thing about you. Then again, this has been the week some cosmic force decided to torment me, and you were the only one missin'."

Seyla's lips poked out in a pout. "Grumpy, aren't we? Li still turning you down after all these years?"

Jackson's eyes narrowed. "Li? Li ain't even a consideration, thank you very much."

"Maybe you're not 'men' enough. The Trill sure seems to be, though. Poor Jackson." Her tone dripped sarcasm. She gave him a wicked smile and turned to go. Jackson's hand snaked out, wrapping around her arm in an instant to stop her.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" His voice held a knife edge as he pulled her close.

"Ask your precious Li!" she spat back at him. I should think after the performance you two put on here, you'd know what I mean."

Jackson blinked at her, sifting through the hazy memories of the visit to the Wormhole after the Speaker left the Nexus. A song came to mind, the one he'd sung with Norval..."Brown-eyed Girl". He could hear Norval's rowdy rendition now.

You're myyyyy....black-eyed girl....

He frowned. "That was the ale talkin' Seyla." But was it? A snip of a conversation that same night came back to him.

Norv, you ever think about the one that got away?

I danced with her tonight...

"Oh really?" She leaned closer to Jackson, her voice almost a hiss. "I saw the way he held her when they were dancing at your club two nights ago. You couldn't have fit a Vulcan breeze between them. Figures, since she seems to have lost her taste for Vulcans. And why don't you ask your buddy Ophelia about them turning up in sickbay yesterday morning, half awake and half dressed. Or maybe figure out why they keep going out to dinner together?"

The anger bubbled over now, amply assisted by the stress of recent days. "Shut up, Seyla, I'm warnin' you. You're talkin' bullshit. She'd never --" A beefy hand clamping down on his shoulder cut off whatever he intended to say.

"You giving the lady a hard time?" It was more a growl then clear-spoken words.

"Me and the 'lady' are discussin' some personal business, get yer mitts of me." Jackson tensed, still watching Seyla. She gave him a slow, wicked smile and her gaze shifted to whomever was behind Jackson.

"He's hurting my arm Rio! Get him off! Please?" Her wheedling tone and a hefty dose of pheromones ensured that the evening was going to take a very bad turn. "Gotcha!" she hissed at Jackson.

"Oh, shit!" Rio. It had to be Rio.

The bar fell suddenly silent, something of a miracle for the Wormhole.

"Stop spreading that filth Seyla." Jackson let go of her and slowly turned beneath Rio's hand. "I believe I asked you to get yer mitts off me, Rio."

Rio growled and swung. Jackson, a little smaller and lighter, dodged easily, but that first strike was all the crowd of the Wormhole needed. A riot erupted, with all manner of mugs, bottles, fists and furniture thrown. The previous loud talk and laughter became an absolute uproar. Never one to hesitate where life and limb were concerned, Jackson lowered his head, took aim and grunted with satisfaction as his foot connected with what he hoped was Rio's sensitive parts. He had no clue what the man's species was, but if luck was with him he was in the right neighborhood. He smiled widely as Rio squeaked and dropped like a rock.

"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" He gave a loud yahoo, pumping his fist in the air.

"You got that right, J!" someone shouted from across the bar. A chair came flying and Jackson ducked. "Whew, that was close."

"This is closer!" Seyla swing her tray, catching Jackson in the nose and forehead. "Serves you right." As soon as she connected, two locals swept her away into the middle of their fist fight.

To say that Jackson saw stars was a vast understatement, and it wasn't because he was standing next to a portal either.

"Hey Jackson! Here!" A Ferengi whose name escaped him at the moment doused his face with a mug of ale. "That got the blood off your face at least, but you might want to get your nose looked at. Not that humans have decent noses anyhow but she got you and good."

The adrenaline of the moment began to face and with it came a hammering pain that got his whole face into the act. It was only now that he saw his pristine white jacket was splattered with blood....and ale. An arm was thrown around his shoulders and it began dragging him towards the door.

"I'll get you outta here!" A massive Klingon beat a path to the door with his free arm, hauling Jackson along with the other. They finally reached the exit and with a grunt, he shoved Jackson through it.

He was an absolute mess and his nose was worse. Vanity dictated that he get it fixed up and now. Drawing looks from the crowd, he hurried along the Promenade, his gait rather unsteady, and into a turbo lift. The closest medbay was only four decks up, thankfully. The lift stopped moments later and he moved down the corridor. Not much further now.

The doors whooshed open to admit him just behind a woman in medical blues. The sight of Jackson got the nurses moving faster, thanks to all the blood. They removed his ruined jacket and as a nurse held a compress to his nose, the doctor turned. Seeing Jackson, she stopped and just shook her head.

"Well, well, Jackson Banning." Dr. Natalia Bren smiled as she looked back at him.

"Oh shit," Jackson muttered for the second time that night.

*********
Jackson Banning V
Owner & Punching Bag
The Nexus Club