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Luke Cage had himself a not so minor problem. After all the awkwardness of his old bar blowing up (with him still inside it), he'd left everything behind to start a new life. A new neighbourhood, a new bar, a new roster of regular customers. New, new, new.
New also meant a new reputation, for himself and his new business. Unfortunately that part was harder to come by and took time. Time that some of his new customers wasn't interested in letting him have. It had taken a long time to establish his old bar and screen out the worst of the worst. Jessica, and it still hurt to think of her, had called it a clean dive bar, but it was anything but dive. Luke had no pretensions of upscale, but he ran a clean joint and expected clean customers.
But being so new, it was like blood in the water to the sharks of the night. Gangs had tried to make his life difficult, but they were fended off easily. Well, easily for him. His clothes had fended about as well as the hoods' bodies, but he didn't really care. And if that had been the end of things, he'd have been content. Sadly one group of wanna-be badasses had decided to make his bar their central base. Luke had seen the danger right away, but money was tough to come by for a new and unestablished operation. He'd tried to balance their attitudes and his income, but they were ruining his new name.
And that couldn't be allowed if his reputation was going to be anything other than “the place where the bad guys go” and spiraled into the sort of place where fights and eyeballs being swept up at closing were nightly occurrences. But he couldn't just beat his way out of the problem since that would bring even more guns pointed at him and his potential customers, or worse yet cops asking about him and possibly linking him to a flaming pile of rubble. So he was in a quandary, wanting to clean out the riffraff, but not wanting to do so in a way that brought more trouble onto his head.
He'd tried to encourage them to leave but they'd taken his hints as an insult to their manhood and redoubled their efforts to intimidate and take over. Roy, whom Luke had rehired as soon as possible, was as tough as leather and as strong as steel. Roy had seen everything in his years and could take anything thrown at him by a customer, but having a gun pointed at Roy's face was Luke's breaking point. They had to leave.
It hadn't been easy, but he'd come up with a plan that seemed like it had a good chance of working. Even harder had been mustering up the courage to make the call he'd needed to make. There had been few words exchanged, enough to make him wonder if he'd been making another mistake but not enough to make him call the whole thing off as a lost cause. Friday night seemed like the best time, but it also meant that he had days of stewing to get through first.
Luke wasn't the sort of man to rethink a decision once he'd made it, but this one wasn't easy at all. The days seemed longer than normal, his fuse shorter than normal, and even Roy was telling him to calm down and back off. That's another thing Luke didn't do well, since something had to be serious to get under his skin (metaphorically and literally, once he thought about it). But finally Friday rolled around and his new least-favourite customers had taken their usual spots by his immaculate bar and started making a ruckus. He kept them steadily supplied with booze, trying to be as polite as he could and letting them seemingly have their way.
Later than he'd hoped, and not long after despairing that the whole idea was a mistake, the front door opened and she was there. Luke's breath caught in his throat at the sight of Jessica Jones walking in. Their eyes met and Luke was suddenly feeling his heart thud in his chest. He thought he'd gotten over her, gotten over how she'd appeared in his life and left sizzle marks on everything, gotten over them. But obviously not.
Her hair was still black as night, her leather jacket just as well-used and looking more lived in, and she didn't walk so much as stalk from place to place. But her eyes seemed a little less haunted, and Luke was thankful for that. He hadn't been wrong when he called her an ill-tempered mess of a woman, but he was glad that she seemed to be getting her shit together.
She glanced around the room, getting a feel for the new building and its patrons before meeting his eyes again and sauntering over to him at the bar. Her eyes flicked over the loud goons and she raised her eyebrows at Luke. He nodded slightly and very deliberately focused his attention on Jessica. “Hey, thanks for coming.” It seemed like a safe way to restart trying to communicate with her.
“Well, I figure I owe you more than one favour,” she answered, her voice as low and husky as he remembered. “You know, for everything,” she continued. “You want to just start throwing bodies out the door?” Luke smiled at her attitude, and he remembered how easily she'd thrown people around.
“Nah, I've got something else in mind.”
Jessica raised her eyebrows in confusion. “So are you going to tell me how you want to play this?”
“These guys aren't exactly rocket scientists, but it won't take them long to get insulted the longer I ignore them,” Luke answered, leaning on the bar and closer to Jessica. It wasn't what he'd intended to do, but just happened naturally. Just like before...
Jessica stiffened almost immediately, drawing away to a safer distance. Luke sighed softly and reminded himself to play it cool and not to assume. “I just need you to help me put them into their place, like only you can.” She smiled at that, which seemed to be the breaking point for the more unruly customers that was the subject of their conversation.
The leader of them, a real asshole with a worse attitude problem, had been snapping his fingers at the new waitress Luke had hired, but he'd been smart enough to tell the girl to ignore them and let him service them himself. When his attention had been taken up by Jessica, the leader took that as an insult and snapped his fingers at Luke himself.
“Hey! When are we gonna get some service here?” With a dramatic sigh, Luke turned away from Jessica and walked over to where the pack was sitting.
“Listen up, I've got a problem and a proposition for you guys. The problem is easy, it's you. I know you're all tough and shit, but my friend here can drink any one of you under the table.” As a group, all eyes flicked over at Jessica, who glanced at Luke in semi-disbelief, then turned back to the hoods and gave them her best challenging smile. Luke could almost feel the tension ratchet up a few notches and knew he had them baited on the hook.
“What? What kind of joke is this? You really think some skinny-assed white bitch can drink that much?”
“I know she can. Can you?” Luke challenged back. He saw a few of the minions straightening up with insult, so he continued on. “Here's the deal: if she wins, you pay the whole bar tab and find somewhere else to drink.”
“And when I win?”
Luke made a big show of thinking hard, while Jessica just muttered under her breath. “You get free drinks here for the next month.” More backs straightened, and there was some elbowing of comrades in encouragement. But their leader, wary of being trapped, wasn't too sure. Luke was grasping for something to say when Jessica sealed the deal for him.
“Oh, come on. Are you so scared of a 'skinny-assed white bitch'? Do you have a Slim Jim for a dick in your pants?” she scoffed, then glanced at the leader's groin. She deliberately curled her lip in disgust, then upped her offer. “Tell you what: if you win, and that's a big if, I'll meet you out back and you can prove just how wrong I am about your cock.”
Luke glanced at her warily, not liking where this was heading nor willing to let her actually go through with that promise (but not really knowing how he could stop her, either), but Jessica just caught his eye with hers and smiled. It was predatory and reassuring all at the same time. Then she turned to the man in question and her smile became just predatory. “Come on, dinky boy. Let's get this show going.” All doubts aside, Luke was impressed with how effortlessly she'd manipulated the guy. Calling his manhood into question, offering the opportunity to correct her assumption, then clearly slapping him down with an even bigger insult.
No sooner had the words left her painted lips then the guy, who introduced himself to the pretty lady as Rick, pulled a stack of hundreds out of his pants, peeled four off and slapped them onto the bar. Jessica just raised a brow, took a bar stool, and tilted her head to the side. Roy, the ever-thoughtful Roy, came up beside Luke with his cellphone out and started recording the whole thing on video. Luke nodded his thanks, then brought out the bottles of booze.
Rick ordered first, a beer for himself and “something fruity and girly for her” as he put Jessica's order. Luke had to look away to hide the grin spreading across his face; these guys had utterly no idea of what was about to hit them. Rick made a toast with his glass at Jessica, probably trying to come across as charming (while no doubt thinking of just what he'd do to her in the back alley after) but he only came across as creepy and pathetic. For her part, Jessica very deliberately wrapped her red lips around the straw of her drink, looked up at Rick through her eyelashes, and drank.
Rick coughed into his beer and even Luke, who'd once had the privilege of seeing that heated look directed at him (just before they broke his bed for the first time), had to clear his throat and adjust his step behind the bar. She was playing them all like a fiddle, he thought. Clearly unwilling to be shown up so easily, Rob tilted his glass back and chugged the whole beer at once.
Jessica just tilted her head to the side again, made a show of looking Rick up and down in examination, then turned to Luke. “Shot of vodka, no rocks.” Rick's eyes widened in alarm as Luke filled the two shot glasses and slid them in front of the drinkers. Then his mouth dropped as Jessica tossed the whole contents down her throat in one move. She upended the now-empty glass and shot Rick a challenging smirk.
Finally grasping that he might have bitten off more than he could chew, Rick numbly reached for his own glass and drank the burning liquid down himself. He upended his glass like Jessica had and tried to smirk back at her. She wasn't buying it. Instead, she jerked her head at Luke, trying to hurry up Rick's next selection of booze.
“Bourbon,” he decided. Luke filled two more shot glasses and set them in place. They disappeared almost as quickly as the first. Rick seemed to be wary of what would come next, and Jessica just propped one foot up on the stool and settled in for a long night of drinking.
The shots soon progressed to doubles. Jessica insisted on her favourite brand of Wild Fowl, which Luke had only ordered in during a moment of weakness. Luke also suspected that Jessica's definition of “favourite” happened to be whichever brand she could buy the most of in bulk.
Amazingly, even the doubles seemed to disappear quickly. Rick was keeping up with Jessica, and she was starting to look a mite piqued. Luke had seen her more liquor before, but not over such a short period of time and he was starting to get worried. He'd had ultimate faith in her ability to drink, but maybe she'd been drinking earlier in the night. Or wasn't feeling that well. Or if Luke had just shared his plan with her... But Rick seemed to be fairing just as poorly as Jessica. He was weaving on his stool, his eyes starting to glaze over, and his words were noticably slurred.
By that time, a sizable crowd had joined the show. Rick's posse was egging him on, some of Luke's new regulars took Jessica's side and cheered her successful shots. Cameras and phones were out, happily recording the evidence for Luke.
The final shot, a selection of Wild Fowl by Jessica (though it sounded more like what Luke imagined Swahili sounded like), proved to be the deciding choice. Jessica's hand was shaking when she picked up the glass, paused with the glass hovering over her lips for a moment's respite, then didn't drink so much as open her mouth and lean all the way back. Almost too far with some of the liquid escaping her lips as she weaved, but she recovered with a mostly-nimble grab of the bar and righted herself.
Rick lifted his glass, sipped, then tilted it back. Then he tilted back, his eyes dimming and his whole body just went slack. He slid from the stool and sort of melted onto the floor, a soft snoring soon following back up to the participants. Jessica tried to lift her arms in victory, but only made it sort of halfway before deciding it was too much effort and just waved her hands in front of herself.
Rick's crew grumbled, but it was of a good nature. They'd fought the good fight and lost, but lost honourably. Rick's buddy slid the stack of hundreds over to Luke, another helped him to get Rick upright and drag-carried their snoozing leader outside. Roy, ever so thoughtful, had taken his phone to the back office and printed off a choice picture of Rick just at the moment of passing out while Jessica was still upright on her stool. It'd be framed on the wall, a warning and reminder of their embarassing defeat should any of them ever come back.
No sooner had Roy returned, then he nudged Luke's elbow and pointed him at Jessica. She was definitly not in a good way, the weaving was worse, her hands were visibly shaking, and she seemed to have trouble with the concept of keeping her head level. “Go on, boss. I'll close up tonight.” Luke nodded his thanks and slipped an arm around Jessica to help her upright.
God, the feelings that brought back! Her leather-jacketed body pressed against his, the aroma of liquor around her, his hand resting on her hip. So much emotion in that simple action. And he wasn't the only one to think it, since as soon as they were outside Jessica pressed her lips to the side of his neck and whisper-slurred, “Take me to your place.” Luke stiffened, temptation curling in his brain and limp in his arms at the same time. He swallowed hard, his nature warring with his desires. Jessica just looked at him with a heavy, lidded gaze. Luke made another difficult call.
Trish took the late night/early morning call with a surprising calmness and she made certain her doorman would let them in at that ungodly hour. By the time Luke got them to her building, Jessica had fallen asleep and wasn't all that interested in being roused. Luke managed it and was able to get her mobile enough that it wouldn't look like he was dragging her on any security cameras in the neighbourhood.
By the time they got up to the 19th floor, Jessica was out of it again. Trish had the door opened and was pulling her into her arms almost as soon as the elevator door dinged its arrival. Luke had never seen Trish's place before, but knew that Jessica had lived there at one time. He was taken aback by the strength and mass in the front door, holding it open while Trish manouvered her sister inside.
He was about to make a dignified exit when the blond woman looked over her shoulder at him while she had an armful of drunken Jessica. “Stick around for a bit.”
“I should get going,” Luke rumbled, his voice echoing in the large space.
“I wasn't asking,” was Trish's reply, then turned back to getting Jessica down the hall and through a bedroom door. Luke could see her flick on a light inside, then shut the door behind herself. He looked around the condo warily, trying to decide if he should sit or not. Sitting on the couch seemed too imposing, so he settled on perching on a chair in the kitchen. Or he could just leave. He'd no sooner looked at the thick security door when Trish emerged from the second bedroom.
“She's sound asleep. I don't think she'll be moving any time soon.”
“Yeah, well, she had a bit too much to drink tonight.”
Trish's eyebrows rose. “I didn't think that was possible.” The unspoken question wasn't missed by Luke, but he said nothing. He had no desire to admit his role in Jess' current state; hell, he didn't like admitting to himself! An awkward silence descended on them. Luke fidgeted and Trish toyed with the belt on her robe, hurridly donned when she got unexpected company.
“She misses you,” Trish finally said. Luke met her eyes and saw nothing but concern for Jessica in her gaze. “You should call more often.”
“I... I don't know about that. So much went down...” he had trouble forming the words, only realizing how pathetic his excuse sounded once it was voiced aloud.
“Don't I know it,” she agreed, not a hint of mockery or accusation in her voice. She was calm and steady in her appraisal of Luke. He suddenly squirmed under the weight of her gaze, feeling like he was being inspected as being worthy to date Jessica by an over-protective family member. Her next words dispelled that image entirely. “Jessica is strong, but she's feeling lost. Adrift. She puts on a brave face, but I can tell how much she misses you.”
“I'll think about it,” Luke finally promised, talking slowly as if that would help ease the weight of his words on his chest. Trish smiled widely at that and she seemed to light up the room. She stood up and extended a slim, muscular arm at him. He cocked his head to the side before standing himself and shaking her hand.
“Thank you for bringing her home safely tonight. You're welcome here anytime.”
“Luke's Uptown. You're just as welcome there,” he answered, smiling back at her. He had the feeling that he was going to enjoy knowing Trish. Without anything else to say, and neither of them particularly interested in babbling, Trish escorted Luke back to her front door. He'd just put his hand on the handle to open it when she spoke up again.
“You're just as good a man as Jess says you are, you know.”
Luke looked at her, at a loss for words. He just nodded once, then walked out. He barely heard the security lock click behind him, was dimly aware pushing the elevator button, and didn't remember the trip back down to the lobby at all.
Jessica thought he was a good man. Luke himself never thought so. He just tried to do the best that he could at keeping his head down and protecting what was important to him. He wasn't sure if that qualified as being a “good man”.
But if Jessica thought he was, maybe he could be if he tried.
Maybe.