Annalisa was startled as she watched a man limp towards her, and froze up, between the tears and the darkness, she couldn't tell exactly who the man was. As he got closer, she noticed it was the man from the bar. She heard him say he worked for Bracco, and felt a wave of relief over her as he led her toward his car.

She graciously got into the car when she reached it, her shoeless foot throbbed, but she ignored it. She quietly looked at the man, and wiped away her tears. "Are you okay?" She asked timidly, her body shaking a little due to the fact that she was cold. The situation of the night had just gotten stranger, due to the fact that she was now sitting in a car with a man she really didn't know but apparently worked for her boss. She looked for the right words to discribe her situation, but her mind was too shook up to explain that she had shot a man. She didn't know how he would react to that, even if he did work for the boss. Instead, when she opened her mouth,"You're driving me home, aren't you? I can fix you up there, and plus, you'll understand my little fiasco that I can't be bothered to explain right now as soon as you get in.." She nervously blubbered, she had a really bad fear of the Feds, and didn't like the fact that she had to get help to clean up her problem.

Ashland woke up the next morning alone. She sat up and looked around the room for Skip, the man who'd spent some time with her last night. He wasn't anywhere to be found, but, on the chest at the foot of the bed was a manilla envelope. In curly black cursive, the envelope read "For your troubles. Skip."

Ashland practically pounced on the envelope. She tore it open removed a chunk of cash. She spread out on the bed. Two thousand dollars in hundred dollar bills! She almost fainted.

After getting up, getting dressed and pinching herself a few times, Ashland was convinced that it was real. The money, still strewn across the bed, was a reality. A knock sounded at the door. It was angry. Ashland opened the door to see her landlord. Alomst giddily, she handed him the money she owed him before he could even ask. She closed the door on him and laughed. She felt great. But at the same time, she felt guilty. Had she just prostituted herself? Or had Skip really just shown her kindness? How did he know she needed money anyways?

Annalisa awoke still fully dressed from the night before, other than her shoes. Her body killed as she lugged herself out of bed and changed clothes. She glanced in the mirror and noticed that her hair was disheveled and there were bruises on her face, but she had bigger things to care about. She had managed to get rid of the body, but she still needed to scrub the floor of the blood- and oh- she also needed to go through the contents of the man's wallet.

Annalisa filled a bucket with soapy water and made her way into her sitting room. Looking at her poor rug, she noticed that blood had seeped on to it- damn it- she was going to have to buy a new one and it was truly a shame. She got down on her knees and winced in pain, but began to scrub the floor free of blood, but quickly realized that there was going to be a stain, and the only way to fix it was going to be buying a bigger rug. She looked through the man's wallet and was quickly disappointed- the man hadn't been worth the trouble- and she burst into tears.

Skip leaned his leather chair against the window sill and read the paper. "DEAD MAN FOUND ON SHORE" The headline news in thick black letters. Skip took special interest in this. The man had been shot and apparently drowned. There was a blurry black and white photo of the scene below the story. Skip relaxed a little when he saw that it wasn't one of his men or his enemies. Still. It was unsettling. What if it had been one of his men?

A knock sounded at the door. "Who is it?"

"A visitor." A muffled voice came through the thick wood of the door.

"Obviously. Whaddya want?" Skip was trying to make the irritation in his voice noticeable.

"To say something." It sounded like a woman.

"Jesus Christ. You know the door opens, right?" Skip practically shouted. "Quit with the ambiguous shit and tell me what you want!" He shook the paper violently to straighten it out and propped his feet up on the desk.

"I know. I just wasn't sure if you did." The girl from the night before walked in. Skip set the paper down on the desk and sat upright in his chair "You know... Like, if you were super sociable."

"Well, I can be." Skip said in a much nicer tone. "I'm sorry if I insulted you. I just get a lot of stupid salespeople. I'm sick of it." He stood up and moved to a cupboard. "Want a drink?" He took a crystal bottle with matching tumblers out and set them on the desk. He motioned for her to sit down. She did.

"Why not?" She smiled widely. Skip poured the alcohol into a glass and handed it to her. "Thanks."

"Not a problem." He put the bottle back in the cupboard without pouring himself a glass. Instead, he poured a different drink. The woman eyed him curiously, but didn't ask.

"I wanted to thank you." She sipped and put the glass down. "You know, for the money." She looked at the floor.

Skip smiled at her. He was about to say something when one of his men came in. "Skip, we got big trouble!" Skip looked up at the guy.

"What kind of trouble?" He glanced back at the woman. "Hold on. Wait here."

"They're outside." The man said, his words rushed together. The man led Skip out of the room.

***

Ashland watched as the men left. She wondered what a hatter could have done to get himself into "big trouble." Did he accidentally give a man a woman's hat? She chuckled a little.

She sat and stared out the window. It was another dreary day. Gray skies on the brink of dumping more rain on the already soaked sea-side town. She zoned out, thinking about the stack of money waiting for her on the bed. When she came back to reality, she was staring at Skip's glass. She was curious as to why he had to drink something other than what he gave her. She glanced behind her to see if he'd come back yet. He hadn't. As a matter of fact, shouting could be heard in the distance.

She looked back at the glass. The liquid inside looked almost solid as it sat, unmoved on the desk in front of her. She glanced back again before picking it up and bringing it to her nose. Maybe it had medicine in it? She smelled it. It smelled sweet. Non-alcoholic.

There was banging and yelling coming from the stairwell. It was getting closer. Ashland quickly put the glass back and stood up, nervousness washing over her. Skip and his man tumbled into the room and slammed the door shut just seconds before two other men crashed into it.

"Let us in, Skip." A grisly voice sounded from the other side.

"Or we'll huff and we'll puff and we'll blow our way in!" Another voice, higher pitched, said and the broke into laughter.

"Shut up, Rick." the grisly voice said, followed by a thump and groan of pain from the other voice.

"Ashland." Skip almost hissed. He was trying to keep quiet. He pointed at the wall. Ashland looked at the wall Skip was pointing at. It was covered in heavy drapery. She pointed back to make sure that he meant to point at it. He nodded. "There's a door."

Ashland rushed to the wall and pushed the drapery aside. Low and behold, there was a door. She opened it and started to walk through it. She stopped when she could hear a slight popping sound through the pounding of the men trying to break in. She looked back at Skip and his man. Skip had a bloody nose and the beginnings of a black eye. His friend had a knife sticking out of his shoulder.

"Go!" Skip wasn't hissing anymore. The pounding got more intense.

"Come with me." She said, quieter.

"Just go, Skip." The man said. "I'm gonna bleed out anyways.

"Dammit, Nathan! You got stabbed in the shoulder. You'll be fine."

"Just go. You're the important one." The man argued.

"Fine." Skip stood up and made a run for Ashland and the door. He slammed it shut once he got through. He grabbed her arm and started running down the stairs in front of them. He was practically dragging Ashland along.