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torithy · 10 months

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Best Served Cold | A Hustle Fanfiction

I know, retro, right? I haven't written a jot in what feels like forever, and I was casually rewatching this show and was totally taken by surprise by the urge to scribble something down. It turned into this...

“You didn’t all have to come, you know. Especially not in this weather.”

“Don’t be silly, Albie. We wanted to support you. Where else would we be?” Stacie Monroe chided gently, slipping her arm through the dapper older gentleman’s as they ambled through graveyard, well wrapped up against the bitter chill and with the rest of their crew in tow.

“I appreciate it, my dear,” Albert Stroller said, a heavy sigh escaping nonetheless. “Just seems like the goodbyes come ever more frequently these days. Perils of turning into an old man like me, I suppose.”

“Ridiculous,” Stacie scoffed, her fondness for her companion bolstering her need to lift his spirits, regardless of their sombre surroundings. “You’re not old. You’ll outlive us all.”

He humoured her with a smile of his own, but it died long before it could light his eyes, his heart clearly not in it.

“It was a travesty, you know. What happened to Wesley,” the American mused, almost more to himself than anything else.

“Wes Winters, the Ice Man,” Ash Morgan nodded, clapping a sympathetic hand on Albert’s shoulder as he fell into step with them. “I’ve heard all the old stories.”

“The Ice Man, because of the surname?” Stacie guessed.

“That and he had a thing for boosting diamonds,” Ash grinned. “Only crossed paths with him a few times, but like I said, I heard the stories. Couldn’t believe it when he got sent down like that.”

“Wesley was a true grifter,” Albert said, a rare sharpness to his tone. “One of us. He would never.”

“Hey, easy now, Albert,” Ash held his hands up in a swift sign he’d get no argument from him. “No one’s saying he did.”

“The police did. The courts did. Those bastards took him from his family, ruined his legacy, and made sure he spent his last years behind bars. And for what, I ask you?”

Stacie and Ash exchanged concerned glances at how upset their friend was becoming, especially as they knew he wasn’t getting any younger, no matter how much they all liked to try to deny the inevitable. But before they could turn to the rest of their crew to try to distract him, someone else seemed to do just that, stopping him in his tracks not far from the grave they had just circled back to while giving him a chance to stretch his legs and clear his head after the less than uplifting church service they had all just sat through.

Following his shrewd gaze, they spotted a lone woman stood by the as-yet unmarked mound of fresh soil, head bowed. A mane of wavy blonde hair tumbled from under a black baker boy cap, down the back of a long white overcoat worn over an all-black outfit of skintight trousers, sweater, scarf and suede boots that stretched over her knees. She cut the same solitary figure she had in the front pew of the church that had been dotted with only a few others beside themselves.

A poor show in Albert’s mind. One his old friend hadn’t deserved.

“Skylar Winters,” he said, with a nod in her direction for the benefit of the others. “Wesley’s youngest daughter. I remember her from when she was just a little girl.”

“Not so little these days,” Danny said, eyebrows raised as he tilted his admiring gaze, incorrigible as ever, no matter what the occasion. “Hey, I’m just saying. It’s a compliment.”

“Do you want to pay your respects, Albie?” Stacie asked, ignoring the interjection. “We can come with you, or give you space if you’d prefer…”

Albert considered for a moment before making up his mind and patting her hand gratefully. “Maybe you could all come with me, just for a few moments? Might bring the young lady some small comfort to know there were still some of us who believed in her father.”

“What was his story again?” Danny asked, sauntering along, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the snow that was beginning to fall lightly again. “I know you said he ain’t guilty of whatever the hell it was that landed him in the clink, but not gonna lie, I do lose track of your many, many acquaintances, Albert. What can I say? You’re too popular for your own good.”

With another sigh, Albert spoke quickly as they drew closer to the graveside. “Wesley Winters earned his Ice Man monicker grifting diamonds from wealthy owners who were themselves of the less scrupulous kind. Those whose greed led them to purchase their jewels with ill-gotten gains, or who showered them on mistresses behind the backs of their unsuspecting wives, or ever bigger marks who dealt in blood diamonds and all manner of associated corruption. In all the years I knew him, he never even came close to getting caught. Not by the authorities anyway.”

“And still he ended up getting a life sentence,” Mickey supplied, the look on his face grave. It was after all his own worst fear, that one day the house of cards would spectacularly crash and burn, despite their meticulous best efforts.

He never revelled in the misfortunes of fellow grifters, but he did hope the others would take them for what he strongly felt they were – cautionary tales.

“Life?” Danny echoed. “Shit, musta been a helluva grift gone wrong.”

“It was a set-up, pure and simple,” Albert rounded on them, his usually calm face lit with anger and his voice stern. “Supposedly cold-blooded murder, the strangulation of an innocent woman over a diamond necklace – mark my words, Wesley lived by the grifters’ code. He. Would. Never!”

It was snowing harder now, large heavy flakes swirling from heavy grey clouds to the frost-baked ground as the cold air turned their breath to steam.

“All right, all right, simmer down, old man or you’ll do yourself a mischief,” Danny exclaimed, with a lightness that didn’t quite cover the genuine concern at the core of his words. They all looked to their veteran companion as a father-figure and afforded him the same love and respect they would have had he actually been blood. Moreso in some cases, given their less than conventional upbringings. “Come on, you can introduce us to the lovely lady…” ***

“Albert,” the blonde woman said, looking up at the mannerly intrusion on her solitude and managing a fond smile as she tried to discreetly wipe stray tears away with a gloved hand. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot, all things considered.”

“Your father deserved more, my dear. It pains me to have to say it. I had hoped more would remember the old days and see fit to honour one of their own.”

“I was never going to get my hopes up,” Skylar Winters shrugged, with a forced casualness she clearly didn’t feel as she glanced curiously at the rest of the small group huddled just a little off to one side and seeming unsure of whether or not they should be there. “Not even grifters want to associate themselves with a convicted killer.”

“You know how much truth and justice there was in that,” Albert said, adding in case it wasn’t clear. “Not an ounce. Not one.”

“Still,” she said, taking a deep breath after she seemed to consider that for a moment and looking round at them again. “Quality over quantity, eh? Sorry, I can’t quite place you all, but I know dad thought so highly of you, Albert, and he would have been chuffed to know the renowned Mickey Bricks showed up for him.”

“I’m only sorry I didn’t get to know your father better,” Mickey said, reaching out to shake her hand.

“Allow me to introduce you,” Albert said. “Everyone, Skylar Winters – Skylar, Michael Stone you’ve just met. This is Ashley Morgan--”

“Ash Morgan,” she mused like it was familiar. “Fixer extraordinaire?”

“Best in the business,” Albert nodded, seeing said fixer looked likely to shrug off such praise in the same casual way he always did. “And this is our good friend and colleague Stacie Monroe and--”

“Danny. Danny Blue,” came the interruption, almost before Stacie could make any acknowledgement, a hand gripping Skylar’s for a firm shake as piercing blue eyes locked on hers. “Don’t tell me what you’ve heard, darlin’, I’ll only blush.”

“He won’t,” Stacie said wryly. “He’d need a sense of shame for that.”

“Tell you what, my dear, we were just thinking of going for a quiet drink,” Albert said, seeing the young woman shivering despite the layers of clothing and realising she wasn’t the only one. He’d thought maybe it was just his old bones feeling the cold, but it seemed the weather was taking its toll on all of them. “We’ll give ourselves a chance to thaw out, reflect on old friends, raise a glass to better times. Why don’t you join us?”

She hesitated, considering. There was something both appealing and terrifying about the alternative prospect of returning alone to the empty house she had once called home and the remnants of his father’s shattered existence. The shrug came almost before she realised she’d made up her mind.

“Sure, why not.” ***

“I’ll get these,” Albert said, as the crew duly traipsed into their usual haunt, waving off the faint protests he got in response. “No, no, I insist. Skylar, my dear, you’ll join us in a small medicinal whiskey, or would you prefer something else?”

“Whiskey’s fine, thanks,” their guest agreed, following the others as they made their way to a booth, Ash and Danny slipping in on either side of the table.

Much to Danny’s disappointment, and despite his pointed looks, Skylar slid in beside Ash, while Stacie took a seat beside him with a little smirk and Mickey sat on her other side, leaving the final space beside Skylar for Albert.

It was a tight enough squeeze for the six of them, but after the chill of outside, no one really minded the close quarters.

“Eddie, mate, crank the heating up, will ya?” Danny called to the landlord busy pouring their drinks. “It’s bleedin’ brass monkeys, innit!”

Eddie paused just long enough to roll his eyes, realising Albert had already ambled off without paying, leaving him to deliver their round to the table. “Won’t pay the bar tab, but still expect to add to the overheads,” he groused, although it didn’t stop him loading the glasses with their generous amber measures onto a tray and ferrying them to the booth.

“To absent friends,” Albert said, having eased himself into his seat and removed his hat and scarf before raising his glass solemnly. “To Wesley.”

“Absent friends,” the others echoed. “Wesley.”

“To dad,” Skylar murmured, ducking her head as tears pricked at her eyelids, yet somehow just a little heartened by the gentle clink of glasses against hers, and taking a small sip of her whiskey.

“That’s off the top shelf,” Ash noted, savouring his. “How’d you talk Eddie into that one, Albert?”

“I didn’t,” the older gentleman sounded surprised, but a glance towards the bar showed their sometimes reluctant host already back in his rightful place and tipping a glass of his own in their direction.

“To the Ice Man,” Eddie said simply.

“See, my dear, your father’s name still means something,” Albert said, with a sad smile. “To those who matter.” ***

The reminiscing had taken them down many a meandering path, one drink turning into two, then three. Ties had been loosened, Stacie had kicked off her heels below the table and Ash, having checked no one objected too much, had a lit cigarette idling between his fingers.

Given the place’s unofficial status as a grifter haunt and the various plots those walls had been party to over the years, from the elaborate and sublime to the frankly ludicrous, flouting smoking laws was hardly much of a concern.

“What?” Danny demanded suddenly, a mixture of “Who me” innocence and righteous indignation crossing his face under Ash’s enquiring stare. “Why ya looking at me like that?”

“If you’ve got something to say to me, Danny-boy, just say it,” Ash shrugged, the quirk of his lips suggesting he knew exactly what the blond across the table was trying to do. And to whom. “Instead of playing footsie with me all evening.”

Danny floundered, caught out as the others – including Skylar – laughed heartily. “Yeah, well… You wish, mate, you wish.”

“Danny, Danny, Danny,” Skylar grinned, a little of her old sparkle having returned to her green eyes in the face of good company and free-flowing alcohol. Even just a few hours spent with the crew had definitely revealed who the utterly shameless flirt was. “You and me, I’m just gonna say it – you and me? It’s a non-starter.”

“Hey, no, look, that’s not what… Um, why is that exactly? If I was curious. Which I’m not saying I am.”

“Come on,” she shrugged, gesturing between them as if it should be obvious. “This… I’d be…” she trailed off, already laughing as she thought about it. “I’d end up being Sky Blue!”

Snorting at the peals of laughter from everyone else around the table, Danny shook his head in disbelief. “Okay, first, your name’s Skylar, sweetheart. Skylar. And secondly, now who’s getting ahead of themselves? Cos I do not recall proposing. And trust me, I would. Recall, I mean. Not propose. No one’s proposing, so you can all just calm right down--”

“Steady, Dan, you’re sweating,” Ash teased, getting a dirty look in return.

“Poor Danny,” Stacie pouted, slinging her arm around his shoulders. “Are the grown-ups picking on you?”

“Would you comfort me if I said yes?” he shot back, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, even as she both laughed and tutted at him before turning her attention to gathering her coat and bag from where she’d stashed them in the corner of the booth behind him.

“Listen,” Stacey said. “I know you boys are dying to play poker or whatever it is you do to amuse yourselves until the next shiny thing distracts you, but I was going to call it a night. Skylar, do you have far to go? We could share a taxi if you like.”

“Thanks, Stacie,” the other woman smiled gratefully. “That’s probably a good idea. It’s been a long day and I can’t put off going home forever…”

“Well, now, forever’s… Forever’s a long time,” Danny mused carefully. “But I mean, in the meantime, you could certainly come home, you know, with me… I’m just saying.”

“Why do I feel like Stacie’s the safer bet?” Skylar smirked.

“Because you have the grifter gut instincts of your father,” Albert said.

“And they’d be correct,” Mickey added, already producing a pack of cards from seemingly out of nowhere. “Stace, if you’re sure you don’t want us to come with you, you’ll let us know when you’re home safe? You too, Skylar?”

“Of course,” Stacie said, dropping a little kiss on their leader’s temple before he eased himself up just long enough to let her slip gracefully out of the booth, back in her towering heels. “Goodnight, boys. Night, Albie, you take care.”

He smiled as she kissed his cheek and then also stood to let Skylar make a similar move out of the booth and pull her coat back on, tugging her long hair free of the collar. “Skylar, don’t be a stranger. And remember, if you need anything, there are places where your father’s name still carries the weight it’s due. Not least with us.”

“I’m so grateful, Albert, really,” she said quietly, giving him a little hug before glancing around at them all. “Under better circumstances, this would have been fun. As it was, you’ve made a tough day that little bit easier. Goodnight, guys.”

“Night, darlin’,” Ash said. “Good to meet you.”

“Night, Skylar,” Danny said, a little cheeky grin creeping over his face as he reached across the table, to press a phone into her hand. “Yours, I believe. May have some extra numbers now. Never know when you might need ‘em.”

“How did you…?”

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tapped the side of his nose. “We’d have to get a lot closer before I start spilling trade secrets. A lot… closer.”

“Really?” Ash said dryly. “Cos it ain’t ever stopped you before.” ***

“So you’re going back to your dad’s old place?” Stacie asked, as Skylar added an address to the instructions she’d already given the cabbie.

“Yeah,” the blonde sighed. “Someone has to sort the place out, go through his things.”

“You sure that’s something you want to be going back to tonight, straight after the funeral, on your own? I mean, I’m sure you could stay with us for a night or two. It’s a lot to take on, especially on your own.”

“I guess I feel like if I don’t face it now, I’ll bottle it completely,” Skylar confessed. “The house, it was comfortable once, but it’s been pretty much abandoned since dad went inside. I couldn’t bring myself to…”

“You don’t have to explain. Do you know what you’re going to do with it?”

“I haven’t really thought that far ahead. Ever since the prison called to tell me about dad, my head’s been all over the place.”

“Understandable,” Stacie sympathised. “Oh this is me. You’re sure you’re going to be ok? If you change your mind and want some company, just call – here, let me give you my number. To go with Danny’s.”

Skylar laughed at that in spite of herself, thanking her new friend as they parted ways and then sinking back into her seat again as the cab pulled away to continue the journey through the darkness, passing under pools of neon cast by the street lights.

The end-terrace townhouse, when they finally reached it, stood in shadows. Three gloomy stories towered over the quiet street, ivy stretching up the façade and the leaves of tall trees at the end gable brushed against upstairs windows.

Skylar paid the cabbie and stood in the street watching as he drove off. It felt for long moment like she’d been left entirely alone in the world and that alone was enough to make her heart sink and the warmth of the whiskey fade.

At least until a crash almost made her heart stop, only the yowl of a wronged neighbour cat causing her to curse her jumpiness and try to shake it off as she climbed the steps to the front door.

The brown envelope wedged in the letterbox caught her eye straight away and she tugged it free before unlocking the door and stepping inside to fumble for a light switch, finding only a small hall lamp on a table by the door. She probably would have discarded the mail right there until the morning, but she noticed it had been addressed by hand and bore no postal marks which struck her as slightly odd in the circumstances. And odder still, closer examination revealed that it was not actually, as she had so naturally assumed, for her father. Instead, her own name stared back at her.

Probably a sympathy card from someone who didn’t know her personally, but assumed she would show up at the house sometime.

Or not.

Ripped open envelope in one hand, contents in the other, Skylar sank down on the stairs, a past she thought she’d long-since buried racing up to meet her.

#hustle #bbc hustle #stacie monroe #danny blue #ash morgan #albert stroller #fanfiction #hustle fanfiction #fanfic #mickey bricks #adrian lester #robert glenister #jaime murray #marc warren #robert vaughn

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