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tinuviel-undomiel · 6 years

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Until Proven Guilty Chapter 3: Down the Rabbit Hole

Woo hoo! I was thinking I wouldn’t finish this until next week, but boy was my muse on a roll! So here is a new chapter for all of you. I hope you like it.

Note, the book The Thirteenth Tale is a real book by Diane Setterfield and I highly recommend it.

Also found on ff.net and ao3.

The lights cut on a six o’clock, followed by the sounds of the guards ordering everyone to get out of bed, get dressed and be ready to head to the cafeteria. Gold had the bottom bunk on account of his knee so at least he had some reprieve from the harsh light. Still, it was a bit disorienting to be rudely awakened from sleep. It was his only escape from the nightmare he was now living in.

His cellmate was already getting his clothes in order and had claimed first dibs on their shared toilet. Antonio Zosorino was his name, but everyone called him Zoso. Gold rarely spoke to the man and he blessedly received the same treatment. Zoso was older than him, with thinning white hair and a heavily lined face. Despite that, he moved like a man twenty years younger. Even better, he wasn’t plagued with a bum leg.

Zoso quietly finished his ablutions and then let Gold have his turn. They both dressed and waited patiently for the guard to unlock their cellblock so they could get breakfast. The other prisoners weren’t nearly as silent as they were. Shouts were already echoing down the corridor. Someone accused another if stealing his socks. If this continued, the guards were going to have to interfere and God only knew when they would be let out for their meal then.

Thankfully, things quieted soon enough and they were released. Gold had been told by Jefferson, another resident on their block, to get in the back of the line, never skip ahead or he faced a beating. As one of the new guys, he was at the lowest end of the hierarchy. That meant he was not allowed to take the last carton of orange juice, and he couldn’t complain if they were out of sausage. He didn’t say a word as he got behind Jefferson and Whale, the only two people who not only acknowledged his existence, but were also friendly to him. He’d only been in prison for three weeks, so he couldn’t call them friends really, at least not yet. It was hard to imagine that he was contemplating being friends with a drug dealer and a man who’d sold organs on the black market, but this was his life now.

“Think they’ll have bacon today?” Jefferson asked.

Whale shook his head, “Nah, that’s only on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Today is oatmeal and toast.”

“They better not run out of grape jelly.”

Gold didn’t really care what was on the menu. His eyes kept drifting to the clock on the wall, counting down the hours until ten. Killian had promised to bring Bae to see him today. It has been difficult, finally deciding to let Bae see him in this place, but the longing to see his son was worse than the shame of knowing his son would remember him like this. However, Bae had begged to see him, terrified that he would never get to see him again like his mother, so it was better this way.

There was a bit of commotion up at the start of the line. Apparently, there was only one piece of sausage left and two other men were arguing over who had dibs on it. There was probably more being made in the kitchen, but considering the location, this was no guarantee. Jefferson had warned Gold that several years ago there had been a riot over cookies so it was best to keep a careful eye on these things in case one had to duck away from a flying tray or wayward fist.

Gold had pretty much decided lukewarm oatmeal wasn’t worth any broken bones, even if he was rather hungry, when both prisoners suddenly stopped. He watched as Zoso broke through the line, snatched up the last sausage and took a bite out of it in front of the two squabbling prisoners. He continued to chew, staring at them both. Neither man blinked. At last, they moved on with their trays, casting glances at Zoso who continued to stare them down. It was ludicrous that a man twice their age could intimidate two burly, tattooed men, but somehow this was the case.

He wondered over this, sneaking glances at Zoso who had taken his breakfast and sat down at the far end of one of the tables, completely alone. Gold took his food and was waved over to where Jefferson and Whale were. Jefferson was mixing his jelly with his oatmeal until it was a shade of lavender then spooning it onto his dry toast. “Don’t knock it till you try it,” he said when he caught Whale’s quizzical look.

“I’m good, thanks.”

“It’s not like we get sugar or cinnamon here anyways. I always hated oatmeal as a kid. Always reminded me of vomit.”

“Now it looks like grape vomit,” Whale said, wrinkling his nose, “Very appetizing.”

Gold hardly paid attention to their asinine conversation. He kept glancing over at Zoso who was quietly eating his oatmeal, completely alone. He used to think he was a tough-as-nails kind of person. Certainly he’d developed a reputation for being a hard on his tenants when they were late with their rent, but he was a kitten compared to many of the men in this place. Yet all of them had bowed to Zoso. Was he some sort of serial killer he’d never heard of? Why were they afraid of him?

He was wondering if he should be concerned about sleeping below this man, when Jefferson apparently noticed his gaze. “Don’t stare too long or you may not have eyes.”

That snapped his attention back to his breakfast. “Is he really that dangerous?”

Jefferson shrugged. “Usually he keeps to himself, but if you trip that wire…” he smacked his hand down on the table for emphasis. “Kaboom!”

Gold looked over at Zoso again, trying to be stealthy about it. It was still hard to be wary about a man older than him just quietly eating his oatmeal and sausage. “What is in for?”

Everyone had a story here. He was asked what he had done when he had first arrived. He wasn’t the only one saying he was innocent, so no one was really surprised that he said he had be wrongly convicted of murdering his wife, but he doubted they believed him. Some challenged him, most just said nothing.

“He’s got the biggest rap sheet here,” Jefferson said, “Guy has been convicted of killing nine people, probably more.”

Gold tried to hide his surprise as best he could, but Jefferson still grinned at him so he knew he had failed. Whale had obviously heard of this before because he merely shrugged. “I head it was closer to twenty.”

“Just who is he exactly?” Gold asked. Now he was seriously wondering if he was bunking with Ted Bundy.

“He was a hitman for the mob,” Jefferson said, “Worked for the Falconi family in Boston. Rumor is his grandfather was the big one himself, Capone.”

The latter Gold wasn’t sure on; since likely someone would also say his uncle was Vito Corleone, but the former actually made a lot of sense. There was a hierarchy in prison, and someone with a large body count and ties to the mob would certainly be on the top of that pyramid.

Gold went back to his breakfast, silently contemplating if he should be concerned that he had to share a cell with this man. Still, if Zoso wanted to kill him, he doubted there was anything he could do to stop him. Best to stay on his good side then.

There was some shame in knowing that he would only be able to glimpse his son through a glass wall, but Gold told himself he didn’t care. He hadn’t seen Bae in weeks. If this were the only way he could visit with his son, then he would do it.

The guard escorted him to the visiting station. Killian was already there on the side for those who were free with Bae perched on his lap. His son eagerly scrambled for the little black phone, speaking into it before Gold could even lift his own to his ear.

“Papa, I miss you!”

“I miss you too, Bae,” he said.

“When are you coming home?”

Gold looked over and Killian who gave him a sad shrug. So he did the only thing he could do for his son: lied. “Soon, very soon, how are things in pre-school?”

“Good. I learned French!”

Gold smiled at him. “French? Wow, what did you learn in French?”

“A song. Fray-er Jack.”

Gold chuckled a little. “Can you sing it to me?”

Bae nodded and began to sing “Fray-er Jack, Fray-er Jack/ Dom may voo, dom may voo.” He pressed his little hand up to the glass as he sang, reaching for his father. Gold blinked through tears, adding his voice to the song and placing his palm over Bae’s. He could almost feel the warmth of his son’s hand through the thick glass.

“That was beautiful, Bae,” he said when he had finished.

“Belle likes it too. She’s working at the library now.”

A rush of relief filled him at that bit of news. He had been wondering what had happened to Belle after he was convicted. Aside from himself and Bae, Belle was another victim who had endured so much because of all of this. The media had labeled her the “other woman”, with much speculation that she had been involved in the murder. Of course, this was absolutely ridiculous, but he knew that since he was gone now everyone would be talking about her.

He smiled a little though at the thought of Belle being surrounded by all of her beloved books. “I’m sure she’s happier there than she was at my shop.”

“She read me a book,” Bae said gleefully, “Horton Hears a Who.”

“Did you like it?”

“Uh huh. She promised to read me another one when we go back.”

“That sounds wonderful.” The clock was ticking away, betraying the fact that their time was quickly running out. No father should have to limit his time with his son to just four hours a month.

“Bae, can you hand the phone over to Uncle Killian now? I want to talk to him a bit.”

“Okay, Papa.” Bae dutifully passed the black phone over to Killian. His friend smiled at him and said, “Hey, you doing okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s an adjustment, but it’s not terrible.” It wasn’t a completely lie. Being away from Bae was torture, and he hated the fact that he was no longer free to do what he wanted, but he kept to himself mostly so the rest of the prisoners left him alone. Besides, Jefferson and Whale were decent guys. Granted, it wasn’t a picnic knowing he was sharing a bunk with a hitman.

“I’m glad you’re doing okay then, I worry about you,” Killian said.

“I’ll be fine. Is Bae doing all right?”

Killian shrugged, “Like you said, it’s an adjustment. He misses you and his mom like hell, but he’s a trooper.”

“That’s good. Is the town treating him okay?”

Killian nodded. “They haven’t bothered us. Belle on the other hand…Granny and Ruby are sticking by her, but a lot of the others have sort of ostracized her.”

He knew Ruby and her grandmother would have Belle’s back, probably Leroy too, but the rest…? Certainly Mother Superior and her nuns would be in full swing condemning her for her supposed sins, just as they did everyone else. Ms. Ginger and her gossip gang would be spreading rumors all over the place, no doubt spinning this whole thing into a clandestine affair that culminated in Milah’s death.

“Hopefully that will die down soon,” he said, though he didn’t believe his own lies. Maybe she could save up enough and move to another town where no one would know her. Oh God, her college. He had been helping her out financially with that. He knew Belle would love her job at the library, but it wouldn’t pay as well as he had. She’d have to take out loans if she didn’t drop out entirely. The thought of that twisted his gut painfully. She deserved so much more in life than that.

The treacherous clock told him their time was almost up. Gold glared at it, willing time to stop entirely. “I suppose it’s almost time for you to go. Thank you, Killian, I can never repay everything you have done for me.”

“Hey, there’s nothing to repay,” Killian said, “We’re practically family. You’d do the same for me.”

Gold nodded, knowing it was true but wishing that none of this had happened. “Can I say goodbye to, Bae?”

“Yeah, of course.” Killian handed the phone back to Bae.

“Papa?” Bae asked, “Do you have to go back to the playroom now?”

Ah, so that was what Killian called it. He nodded solemnly. “I’m afraid so, you be good for Uncle Killian now. You’ll be back to see me very soon, I promise.”

“Can’t I go with you?”

“I’m afraid it’s only for grown ups. But hopefully I’ll be out of here soon and I can be with you all the time.”

“Okay,” he said quietly, clearly not happy with the notion of having to wait, “Bye bye, Papa.”

Gold couldn’t blink back his tears. “Goodbye, son.”

It was nearly lunchtime, and the library was completely empty save for Belle. She didn’t mind the solitude, but this hour was always a little painful for her on Wednesdays. Mr. Gold had always bought her lunch on this day, usually from Granny’s. He always got her favorite, a cheeseburger with fries and extra pickles with a large iced tea. They would sit in the back of his shop, eating and talking about books, sometimes even arguing over which authors were superior (Jane Austen would always best Sir Walter Scott and nothing would change her mind on that). Mr. Collins enjoyed books too, but he was too mild-mannered to ever carry a lively conversation.

In these silences, her mind would more often than not wander to Callum and what he must be enduring in that prison. Did he have a library? Could he read books? Was he all right?” She longed to talk to him again. When Bae said he was going to go visit him, Belle had almost asked to tagalong. Granny had talked her out of a visit. “Everyone is watching you right now,” she’d said, “Don’t add fuel to the fire or you’ll wind up with third degree burns.”

But it felt so very wrong to sit here, listening to the clock tick on, knowing Callum was locked away for a crime she knew in her heart he didn’t commit. Did he ever think of her the way she thought of him? Surely his first thought had to be of Bae, of course, but…did he miss her?

The silence was starting to suffocate her, cloying at her throat and pricking tears in her eyes. She had to speak to him, or at least let him know that she was still his friend. The notion now too strong to fight, Belle rummaged through the desk for a pad of paper and a pen. She couldn’t call him, couldn’t see him, but she could write to him. He would like that. He’d always hated phones, calling them a “bloody nuisance”. A letter would be more fitting.

How to begin though? Dear Mr. Gold? Dearest friend? Nothing seemed right. Finally, she simply wrote, “Dear Callum,” and that felt like an okay place to start, though it fell short of what she truly felt.

I’m sorry it has taken me so long to write to you. I wanted to see you the day after the trial, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me there. Granny and Ruby told me it was better to let you and the rest of the town adjust before I did anything.

I am working at the library now. I remember when you offered to buy me the library once if I would deal with Ms. Ginger when she wanted to sell her collection of hatpins. She was so bitter when you told her that they were worth only fifty dollars all together. Those were good times.

Belle blinked back tears at the memory of them laughing in the back of the shop, mimicking her indignant shriek that she had not stumbled upon the metaphorical gold mine she’d been after.

I’m sorry, perhaps I shouldn’t bring up those times. I think of you quite often. I hope you are as well as you can be. Is there anything I can get for you? About all I can offer you would be books. Do you have a library there? If not, I’d be happy to send you some books to read. I just finished a wonderful Gothic story that I think you might like.

Bae came in the other day and told me about his visit. I think he is doing well. He loves coming here to see me every now and then. I think he’s adjusting well, but he misses you terribly. So do I. I miss my friend and the best boss in the world.

There was more to say, but Belle kept her pen from jotting down those private thoughts. He had lost his wife and was locked behind bars, what good would it do him letting him know that she had a silly crush on him? The thought of Milah sent a pang of guilt in her heart. She had never cared for Mrs. Gold, had even fantasized that she would leave Callum on a few occasions, but now the woman was dead. Surely she was the worst person in the world for having wished a man’s wife gone like that.

Would it be all right if I came to visit you soon? I miss hearing your voice and simply talking to you. I can let you know more about how school and Storybrooke is doing, perhaps even bring you something from Bae.

Please, write to me if you can. Know that I miss you and think of you all the time.

She gnawed on the top of her pen, mulling over how to close it. She was tempted to put “Love, Belle” but that felt like too personal, but “you’re friend” seemed woefully lacking. Instead, she signed it as “You’re friend and favorite employee,” hoping that would make him smile a bit.

Belle stuffed the letter in an envelope and addressed it. She hurried outside and put it into the public mailbox before she lost her nerve completely. Perhaps Joe, the mailman, would tell someone about her letter, but there were no secrets in this town anyways. Besides, she wasn’t ashamed of her friendship with Mr. Gold. She knew he was innocent, knew it in the bottom of her heart. There were other things in her heart as well, which had her musing that perhaps there was a secret of two in Storybrooke after all.

The letter from Belle had been a lovely surprise. Killian had sent him pictures Bae had drawn and notes fairly regularly, but Gold hadn’t heard from Belle since he was convicted. He hadn’t expected to hear anything from her. She was young, and certainly had to be embarrassed about her association with him, so he had figured she would do the expected and sever all ties with him. Despite his expectations, there was a warmth in his heart when he saw her name on the envelope. He had missed her, more than he had anticipated he would.

He took some of the plain paper he was given and used the back of a hardcover book as a desk. The pen he had was temperamental, but it was better than nothing. Zoso lay in his own bunk and showed no interest in what he was up to.

Dear Belle,

You have no idea how much it warms my heart to hear from you. Bae had said you were working in the library now. I suspect most of the shelves are empty since you have borrowed all of the books for yourself. I’m sure you must be relieved that you no longer have to deal with my accounts or my stock. Now you have your dream job: being paid to read.

It almost seemed mocking, but he knew Belle would understand when he was teasing her.

If you happen to look up from between pages, do send me some of your books. While we have a library here, it is even smaller than yours and filled mostly with bodice rippers. Some of the men here enjoy that material, but I have never seen the appeal.

I am well. While I wouldn’t say I’m not intending to be crowned Miss Congeniality of the cell-block, I’ve met some fellow prisoners who are not bad men, just made some mistakes. I miss you and Bae terribly. I find myself thinking of better times as well, and hoping that I can find them again.

I won’t bore you with the legal details, but my lawyer is planning on filing an appeal. She seems confident it will be reviewed, but until then I must wait patiently.

I hope school is going well for you. I’m sorry I won’t be of much help to you now, but promise me you won’t give up on it. You can do so much, Belle. I’ve always known that about you.

Be well, my dearest friend. I look forward to hearing more from you.

Ever yours,

Callum Gold

The letter was put in the next batch of mail. Less than a week later, Gold was handed over a package. Inside the pre-opened package was a book called The Thirteenth Tale and a letter from Belle.

Dear Callum,

I’ll have you know that the library is still quite full here. I’m very careful to borrow no more than five books at a time. I will say that I have learned quite a few things. Did you know that Mother Superior actually has a fondness for bodice rippers as well? Perhaps I should send you a list of her favorites so you can compare with your friends there.

I do hope you enjoy the book I sent you. It’s a twisted story of family secrets, and it has quite a twist in it that I certainly did not see coming. Tell me what you think of it when you finish. I miss talking about books with you.

The letters continued between them. Gold enjoyed receiving a letter from Belle at least once a week or so, and a book here and there. He got so used to this that he nearly missed the fact that he hadn’t heard anything from Killian and Bae in a while. After six letters from Belle, Gold realized that the last note he had received from his son was before Belle had sent him that first book. Shame and worry rocked through him all at once. Why had it taken so long for him to realize he hadn’t heard from his son? Worse still, why hadn’t he received any word from Bae or Killian in weeks?

The next day he went to make a phone call, a rarity since he was still new and hadn’t been given the privilege much. He dialed Killian’s number, but only received the three-note tone and the robotic voice telling him the phone number was no longer in service. That didn’t seem right. What the hell was going on?

He tried the number three more times, but it was the same message over and over again. Had Killian gotten a new number? Why? Had something worse happened? Where was his son?

Despite the pain he’d endured during the trial, it wasn’t until now that Gold truly felt helpless. He couldn’t do anything behind bars. All of his money had been turned over in trust to Bae and power of attorney belonged to Killian. He didn’t know how to get in touch with Killian now.

Gold worried over it, staying up all night. By breakfast, he’d decided that there was nothing to be terribly concerned about. Killian probably dropped his cellphone in the ocean on his boat. Maybe he and Bae had gone out for a nice little vacation on the Jolly Roger. They probably just had to get away for a little while. They’d be back and have lots of stories to tell.

When the guard told him that he had a visitor, Gold was relieved. It had to be Bae and Killian. He smiled broadly as he made his way to the visiting center. It faltered for only a moment when he saw it wasn’t his son at all.

Belle grinned back at him from behind the glass and waved. His smile returned, despite his disappointment, he was more than happy to see her. She wore a lovely green blouse with a blue skirt and matching green flowers on it, always managing to look better than any model on those glossy magazines. “Hey,” she said in her usual bubbly way.

“Hey back,” he teased her, “You look lovely.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course, at this point anything would be lovely after being stuck with only convicts for company.”

Belle stuck her tongue out at him in retaliation.

“I’m surprised to see you,” Gold told her, “You didn’t tell me you were planning to visit.”

“That is the point of a surprise,” she said, “I missed talking to you, really talking to you.”

“So do I, but I am enjoying your letters.”

“And the books?”

“Of course. The Thirteenth Tale was particularly good.”

Belle grinned at him. “I knew you would like it.”

Their conversation quickly evolved into their usual debate on books. She had brought him three to read this time because she couldn’t decide which one he would like best. She also started talking to him about Storybrooke. Apparently the schoolteacher, Mary Margaret Blanchard, had been having an affair with David Nolan. It was quite the scandal, and the Nolans were definitely getting a divorce.

“How is Bae doing?” he asked her, desperate to know something.

“Oh, well I haven’t heard much from him, you know since he and Killian left.

Gold felt his heart drop into his stomach. “Left?”

“Yeah, they left, were headed down to Boston I think. Killian must have told you this, didn’t he?”

Gold swallowed back his growing panic. He couldn’t let her worry about this. Belle had far too much on her plate as it was. “Of course he did,” Gold said, hoping he sounded convincing, “I just hadn’t realized they’d left already. I hadn’t received word from them yet.”

“Oh, well I’m sure they are just busy getting things set up,” Belle said, “I’m sure Bae will tell you all about Boston soon enough.”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I’m sure you’re right.”

He returned to the phone the next day, this time making a call to the Storybrooke Post Office. Agatha Wiltshire was manned the phones at the Post Office and she was never that good at remembering people all that will. Gold did his best to hide his accent and hoped for the best.

“Hi, It’s Killian Jones. I haven’t been receiving any of my mail since I arrived and I just want to make sure I got the address and phone number right for my transfer.”

“Oh, no problem, Mr. Jones,” Agatha said. Good, she was as dense as he remembered.

Agatha hummed some asinine tune in his ear while she rifled for through the paperwork. He started looking at the clock, hoping she wouldn’t use up all of his time by giving him an off-key rendition of I Dream of Jeanie.

“Okay, I’ve got it.” Gold got his pencil and scrap paper ready. “I’ve got your new address as 732 Beaumont St N, Apartment 13. And your new number listed is 555-9771. Is that right?”

“Yes, that is correct, thank you, Agatha,” Gold told her, “You’ve been most helpful.”

He hung up quickly, grateful that he still had some time left, and quickly dialed the new number. It rang twice, then Killian answered with a cheerful, “Hello, who is this?”

“Killian, what the hell are you doing?”

“Callum?” the surprise in Killian’s voice would have amused Gold once, but not anymore, “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Why are you in Boston? What the hell is going on?”

“I’m sorry, man, we just needed to get away for a while. Bae was having nightmares. I thought a change of scenery would be good, and I got this new job lined up. I was going to tell you, but it happened so fast.”

“Just put my son on the phone,” Gold seethed. The phone crackled a bit then he heard Bae’s tiny voice answer, “Papa?”

“Oh, Bae, it’s good to hear your voice, son.”

“Hi, Papa. We’re in Boston.”

“I know you are. Are you all right?”

“Yeah, but I miss you. Can you come visit?”

Gold blinked back tears. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. But I’m sure Killian will bring you by to see me soon.”

“But I want to go to the park with you.”

“I want that too, son, I really do. I’m trying to get out of here to see you. I’ll find a way, I promise.”

“Good,” Bae said, “Then it will be like it was before. You, me, and mommy.”

Gold swallowed thickly. “Bae, honey, I told you, mommy is in heaven.”

“No she’s not, she’s at the store.”

Gold frowned at the wall. “What?”

He heard the sound of a door opening, and then a familiar voice call out, “I’m home!” Gold felt all of the blood drain from his face. His heart stopped when Bae called out, “Mommy! Papa is on the phone!”

“M-Milah?” he gasped out. Then the line went dead.

For a full day, Gold was in shock. He didn’t think he said ten words to anyone. He ate his meals without tasting a thing. He crawled into bed, but stared at the top bunk with wide-eyes, trying desperately not to think about any of it. There was only one thing that resounded clearly through his muddled mind: Milah was alive.

The next day, he broke through. He tried to sort out the facts. 1. Milah clearly hadn’t been murdered. 2. Killian some how had found her. 3. The two of them were hiding out together.

Gold tried to piece all of that together into a clear picture. He had written down all of the crime scene evidence earlier while he tried to figure out the best approach for appeal. Now he added to that, trying to figure out how Milah was not dead and why she hadn’t come forward. He started positing various scenarios. Milah didn’t have any living family, saying her mother died of cancer when she was twelve and her father in a drunk-driving accident when she was in her twenties. Perhaps there was more to the story she had never told him. Was it possible she had been on the run? He’d heard of stories where people faked their deaths to hide form drug lords and crime bosses. Perhaps she had done that to protect him and Bae. Killian might have been digging into this and found her. Now they were in hiding together, trying to figure out a way to help him and bring their family back together.

He started listing any details he knew about Milah’s past, anything that might give a lead to this theory. He worked for days on it, crossing things out and starting anew. He barely ate, didn’t sleep. Gold didn’t even realize that he had an observer.

Gold had returned from a meeting with his lawyer to find Zoso sitting on his bed, leafing through his notes. “What the hell are you doing?” Gold demanded of him.

“Browsing,” the older man said casually like he was looking through a book in a library.

“That’s my personal information.”

“Nothing is personal in prison, you should know that by now.”

Gold reached out to take the notebook. “Give it back!” Zoso relinquished it without a fight. “I’m trying to find out what happened with my wife, it’s private.”

“Oh I can see that,” Zoso said with a shrug, “Not going very well.”

“It’s going just fine.”

Zoso let out a mirthless chuckle. “You’re so blind, Gold. You’re wife’s alive and you’re confused as to how all of this happened?”

Gold pursed his lips, desperately trying to control himself. This man was dangerous, but he’d always been a bit heedless of danger when his temper was at it’s highest. “I’m not confused. I’m working on it.”

He laughed again. “You’re a smart man, right? Went to law school. I bet you graduated at the top of your class.”

“Valedictorian,” Gold snapped at him.

“Well, Val, seems to me that a smart man like you would know the simplest explanation is usually the right one.” Zoso said. He calmly stood up from Gold’s bed. At his full height, he was a few inches shorter than Gold, but the way he looked at him made Gold feel like one of Snow White’s dwarves.

“The jury certainly reached that conclusion. Twelve average people with twelve average brains decided that the simplest explanation for a missing wife and a husband with a possible mistress and blood on his hands meant the husband killed her. I bet you would have thought the same thing if you were in their place.”

Zoso took a step towards him. “You know the truth, Gold. It’s been whispering in your above-average mind like a tiny little worm, but you’ve been trying to ignore. Just say it. Say what you already know to be true.”

Gold swallowed thickly, hating this man with every fiber of his being, and wishing he could deny it all.

“Say it!” Zoso demanded.

That worm he spoke of was screaming now. He was right. He couldn’t ignore it anymore.

“They set me up,” he whispered hoarsely, “Milah and Killian, they did it together. They knew I would make sure to put everything in Bae’s name, and that I would give custody over to Killian. Once everything was final, they would just have to slip away and they would have everything: my money and my son. They planned it all. They planned to put me in prison so they could take everything away from me.”

Bitter tears formed in his eyes, but he blinked them away. As much as the words hurt his throat, a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He could see everything so perfectly now. Killian’s remarks about his friendship with Belle were designed to make it look like he was having an affair. Milah had made sure to tell her friends how frightened she was of him. The getaway on their anniversary had been their idea. The sailing lessons…God, how could he have been so stupid to believe it all?

Zoso clapped his hands and gave him a mocking smile. “Welcome to fucking Wonderland, Gold. Guess that bitch the Queen of Hearts got you good.”

#until proven guilty #tinny writes fics #rumbelle #rumbelle fic #double jeopardy au

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jrtuliao · 7 years

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Day 3: The night I fell in love with New Orleans

After 2 days of consistent nights of hanging out with friends. For the first time in my life I found myself alone, not lonely, but by myself. My friend Kaitlyn was tired from work and had to help her boyfriend pack for his move to a new apartment. My Godbrother Antonio was at work till late so we couldn’t meet up until past 9 pm. I found myself at a crossroads at my friends house on what to do. Her room mate Trey (a really cool dude through and through) suggested that I go to Frenchmen street by the French quarter just a little ways off from the main Canal area. He described the area that it was rich with Jazz and blues, food and a great time. Sadly he couldn’t join me on this adventure for he had work ( he’s an Uber driver). So I said fuck it, why not, little did I know that my personal introverted self felt a little uneasy being alone in a place I had no idea what to do, where to go, and no one to mentally cling onto as a crutch in an unknown place. Little did I know about the fearlessness inside of myself. So Trey and I get into his car and as he’s driving me, he’s describing the area of how awesome it is. Also how many bars were there, cool shops and interesting people. Meanwhile inside, I felt a slight scream within me, with questions about who will I be in this situation, who will I become after? Will I change? or stay the same? Will I make a friend? I never thought or said these words, but I know I felt them right in my gut. Right at the core of my shy self back in high school.

The moment Trey dropped me off in front of Dat Dog (this cool hotdog spot). I instantly felt out of place. I constantly looked at my phone, pretending to know where to go. I walked into this cool knick knack shop, that had all sorts of books, postcards and random magazines (Oh! there was also a ton of gay porn and paraphernalia). I also wandered into this kickass record shop called Music Factory. It had a ton of original print records. Some Simon & Garfunkel, Rolling stones, Count Basie, John Coltrane, Led Zeppelin, Etta James, Aretha Franklin,etc. I was interested in getting a couple of records, but decided not to. I didn’t feel a necessity. A necessity to anything honestly. Like, what’s the point if I didn’t share any of these special moments with someone. That was until I met Michela.

Now, fast forward a few, let’s say 15 minutes of awkward wandering, listening to the amazing street performers, I noticed this woman, just walking outside of this bar. She kind of slumped to the side and started crying. I noticed it right away. I wanted to talk to her, not because she was beautiful, not because I felt alone, not because I felt like I needed a companion. I wanted to make her smile. No, I wanted to earn her smile.

I initially decided not to linger and stare from afar, but due to my initial hesitance and cowardice, I left her to cry and wandered more. (Btw Frenchmen street is like 2-3 fucking blocks, so I did laps left and right). When I came back around the street on the other side, she was sitting by the side of Dat Dog where I had started my lone adventure. She was smoking a cig and still a little teary eyed. I stood there on the corner of the block for contemplating if I should talk to her. I didn’t want to seem like a creep to be standing for an uncomfortable long time, but I didn’t want to leave. I made a decision and whispered to myself, “No regrets, be better”. I shoved my phone into my pocket and walked over.

I said hello and asked if it was okay for my to sit next to her. She thought I was asking for a smoke, so I had to clarify again, but a little less confident, but more warm She said it was okay and so I took out my own cig (Malboro Golds), lit it and sat down. There was a cool silence between us (no more than 10 seconds). So I started talking to her. I introduced myself with a handshake, “My name is Jed” She shook back and said “Michela”. I learned that she is Italian and came to visit, sadly this was her last day. I had also learned, that she came here to the U.S. to speak English. (She knew english, took classes in Italy, but wanted to get better at speaking it). So I started asking her about herself, and why she chose to travel to America. Turns out she was visiting multiple parts of the U.S. She started in California, then here in New Orleans, from there to Texas for family and then finally New York. And then I asked, “Why do I see sadness in your eyes, when there is love everywhere” She brushed off the question, with a “don’t worry about it, it’s nothing, really” She said she was more said, that she had finally found a place that she absolutely loved on her final day. And then... something amazing happened.

A silenced settled in, as we both started to smoke a second cig. These two women were playing guitars and singing across the street on the corner started singing 4 Non Blondes’ “ What’s up”. I started singing subtlety and slowly she started singing along with me too. And before we knew it, there were to people singing in unison, harmonizing together, singing, “Heeyyeaahhyeaahyeaaha, HEYYYYYEAAAHHYEAAAH, I said HEY! WHAT’S GOING ON!”. It felt like peace. When the song stopped, we finished our cigs and she said, “Hey would, you like to accompany me to this shop here? I want to get a post card”. I said, “of course”. It was the shop I had first visited, with all the knick knacks and Gay Paraphernalia. We both had been inside that shop prior to. As we browsed, I continued to inquire about her with questions about her major (she is a bio major, planning to go into, economic studies on pollution for masters). As we walked in between the cramped aisles of books, dust and random thrift, I found a cool guitar. I asked if she knew any instruments, she knew how to play piano. I was very intrigued. And then I asked the big question, about the universal language we all feel at some point in our lives. I asked about what kind of music did she like, love. She spoke about rock n roll, jazz and the blues. Her favorite band is The Beatles and through them and of course many other greats, she fell in love with the blues. I spoke about the record shop up the street. And she had been there prior as well and wanted to go back before it closed. She ended up not getting the postcard from that shop. We then rushed up to Music Factory around 7 (the store closes at 8). And we browsed the records together.

I asked if she was eyeing any records in particular as we continued to talk about, Jimmy Hendrix, Neil Young, Etta James, Eric Clapton, Arethra Franklin and many more. She told me, she wanted this Album by Neil Young, “On The Beach”. I told her to get it, she felt guilty spending money. She ended up getting 3 albums (with my push for her to do so!) On the Beach, an album by the Beatles, or the Beach Boys, and the third one I can’t really remember. I ended up picking up some records also to my surprise. Elton John’s “Don’t shoot me” and Mott the Hoople “All the Young Dudes”. She also bought 2 pins from the shop, I ended up buying one. (I found out later she had bought the extra one for me). We left a few minutes past closing and decided to go find someplace to eat. We wandered for a few minutes, took pictures of graffiti and random wall art as we walked and decided on this cool bar restaurant that had an upstairs to it. Live music was playing on the main floor, while people ate upstairs. We were seated a little closer towards the window and some wall furniture with a mirror on top of the shelf( it was nice).We had the most energetic waitress who was really sweet. We spent a good while deciding on what to eat, because we were busy talking about what was on the menu. I was helping her understand some words and how to speak some phrases. At one point we had to literally google shrimp and veal to see what it looks like. (because she wasn’t sure on what that was) (Oh! also she knew was shrimp was but in Italian). We had a fun time googling most of the things on the menu and finally decided on a shrimp salad and Veal Pasta with a nice glass of Pinot Grigorio ( white wine) to accompany our meals. It was a grand time.

We spent roughly more than an hour there, probably maybe even two. And every minute we laughed, talked, asked questions about each other, shared music with each other. I had never heard of the band Morphine and she had never heard of Fleetwood Mac.We talked about movies, she had suggested this movie by Woody Allen, called Zelig (we both weren’t sure of the spelling). I had suggested Madment and Baby Drive. Every time we’d share something cool, we took out our little notepads and moleskins and had each other write in the other’s book the suggestion, phrase, song, move random fact, or book. We talked about books a lot. I had mentioned, Ready Player One and then Brave New World and 1984. The moment I mentioned Huxley, she began to share these awesome facts about his family. How his grandfather was a primary support of Darwin and his Evolution thesis, and I think his brother, or uncle started the World WIldlife Foundation. She had such a glow in her eyes, when she would share all these facts with me. I loved her company, and she loved mine. By the time finished our food, it go cold. We laughed about how much we spent talking and less eating. Once we finished up, I had payed for our dinner, she felt bad and offered to buy me a beer. I took her up on that offer. And thus began a night of smiles and warmth (btw it’s still hot as fuck).

When we left the restaurant, we went looking for a bar to get a drink. Stumbled into one which had this kickass live band called InBusiness. They played a mean funk, hard, fast and belching. They had so much energy. As we drank and stood within the crowd watching, I started dancing a little bit (i never dance, and I felt like I danced awkwardly haha). Small head bobs, and knee bouncing, just feeling the music. And she did too, she started swaying with me and smiling. Oh how awesome it was. We left to find another bar, and then Etta James came ringing us in.

We stood outside at the door first as we watched this band sing Etta’s,” I rather be blind” and just like a moth to a flame we were entranced by their music. I saw she started tearing up. So I started singing along with them, and so did she and the tears went away again as we felt the blues together. And then when it was over, man... they were on fire, the band started playing some awesome tunes and then she turned to me and asked, “ Want to dance?” I stupidly said, “ I don’t dance very well”. She replied with a “Me too”( This was a lie, she was amazing). And then we just went in there and really started feeling the music.

We slowly swayed with it, then bopped to it and shook to it. And the next thing I knew, we had put our stuff down at a table and really started dancing! The two lead singers was a bald headed powerful black women with a swagger I never knew and a Big bold black woman with a voice that just hit your soul with some funk. The bald headed woman, turned to the crowd and scream “ Y’ALL WANT SOME FUNK?!” she turned to her band and said “NOW PLAY ME SOME FUCKASS BEAT!”. And boom a electrifying energy washed over us as Michela and I continued to vibe off of each other immensely. They played this dope ass funk version of “Lean on Me” which really got us both jiving. She said it got a little hot, so she wanted to change. I was by myself really feeling the music for a short bit and when she returned, I was stunned. She had this beautiful dress on, I didn’t know what to say ( My dumbass finally complimented her a little later). We danced a little more and then left. We walked and talked and made friends with these 3 cool cat poets on the street, who did poetry for any donation, as per their words, “ It can be from nothing to a million dollars, it’s entirely up to you!”. I had one written about Freedom (I’ll share that later) and she had a poem about change. Both were really Ginsberg -esque and they were awesome. We stopped by this street vendor who sold jewelry. It was funny because the main dude kept trying to hit on her, while trying to get me to buy her some stuff. I didn’t care, I had the honor to see her smile. I joked with the guy as we haggled and watched this man with a tuba play with this other guy across the street with a trumpet. They were really popping! The guy made all of his stuff with his friend by hand, and was nice enough to give her these two beautiful earrings they made, while she bought a wrist band from them. We continued on into the night talking, dancing, smiling. Enjoying each other. Walked into this one live performance where this Filipino dude was killing it on the mic with his dope voice, while her and I danced more. Every time she turned and smiled at me, I felt warm. I became braver with myself as I continued to dance with her, not caring for all the guys trying to do so as well. I grabbed her hand and twirled her around as I made steps I never took before (dancing and in life, double meaning and all that shit haha). When we left the place, she had told that I was a very good dancer. That was the first time I was ever told that.

We went into another bar to cool off, and watch a smooth jazz band play. bought a couple of drinks for us and we just talked about our adventures here in New Orleans. We shared pictures from the sculpture garden, funny pictures of graffiti and talked about other stuff we did during our time. She felt sad that she only had 4 days to be there. She was even sadder that, when she’d be in New York, I would still be here in NOLA. ( from the 21st to 30th I think, she’d be in NY, I was here till the 30th). Oh man did I wish I would be in New York when she’d touch down, just to see her again.

When it was time for us to go, she realized she had lost one of the earrings somewhere. We went hunting for it. I said, let’s check out the previous bar we went to (the one with the dope ass Filipino singer). And she found it. She was so happy, “Good karma” I said. When we started walking to a corner to get her a cab, she told me, “ You are such a gentleman, and beautiful person” I told her, “ You are too, and I am lucky to have been honored with your company”. She smiled. I had ordered a Lyft for here, she was staying in the India House Hostel on Canal. And we hugged and kissed each other. She said, “I’ll never forget you Jed” I said ”I’ll never forget you too Michela”. And she went in to the car and off she went, waving goodbye....smiling beautifully.

There are a many things in this universe where the energy ebbs and flows. But sometimes you just need to take a dive. I wish I could’ve went home with here for many reasons and the obvious. Maybe I clearly missed my mark. But I made a friend. I had a perfect night. Two complete strangers, sharing and loving. I never learned about why she was melancholic. I didn’t even ask if she had someone back in Italy. I don’t know if we will ever see each other again. We promised to stay in touch. She has my number, and we have each other’s Facebook. That night we had zero expectations of each other, we just knew we loved music, we had the blues, but we always smiled and danced. We just, loved.

We just,

loved.

For Michela, I’ll never forget you. And remember Lasciati traspoztale olal oliveztimeuto

Tenere i tempi buoni a rotolarsi

July 17, 2017 Frenchmen Street <3

#neworleans #day3 #frenchmenstreet #love #story #italy #music #jazz #blues #rocknroll #frenchmen #night #dance #new

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