Disclaimer: I own nothing. Hmm...
Humming slightly, Angel Dumott Schunard slowly slipped out of the bright neon green tights and little mini skirt he had been wearing, throwing them into the pile of drag that he - or if you will, she - wore on a daily basis. Quickly, heput on a 'normal' pair of pants, with a 'normal' shirt, 'normal' socks and shoes, and last of all, a 'normal' coat for the freezing world outside that awaited him.
Time to go and earn some cash... He thought, as he picked up the first thing he saw - a bucket. Being a drummer, almost any thing would've sufficed. Angel grabbed the one and only pair of drum sticks he own (or could afford) and with one last look in the mirror, he set out down the street, walking to his own beat.
Angel strode down the 56th Avenue of the city, not feeling that welcomed. First off, he wasn't in his normal wear. Fishnets, tights, skirts, dresses..not now though. How could a drag queen earn money anyway? Pah! If he wore that out whilst trying to obtain money, he'd get mugged. This was after all, the city of trick-or-treat, and most of the time, it was trick. Many times had he been made fun of because of his own unique way of living and dressing. Never bothered him though. Why should it? He was different. So? Didn't matter what they thought of him.
He turned a corner, dodging one of the quick-paced business men, rushing to get somewhere. Angel hated people like that. Why not relax? Why not just take a break?
"Excuse me, Honey," he said, quite perkily to the little girl, no older than 6 or 7, who was before him.
"Sorries," the little ankle-biter answered.
"It's okay. Oh! Babe, where's your parents?" Angel asked, after noting she was alone. He bent down to her eye-level, putting the sticks and bucket down. He held a small look of concern in his eyes for the child. How he loved kids, but knew he could never have any, at that, never take care of one.
"I-I don't know! I's scared. Mommy told me to wait, and that they'd be back soon, though I've been waiting for a real, real long time.." she trailed. "My name's Samantha. What's your's?"
"Angel. Angel Schunard. Now, little one. Samantha. May I call you Sam?" he asked timidly and picked her up, holding her small, petite figure on his curvy hip.
"Yea." Samantha answered. "Angel? That's a pretty name!" she said, forgetting she was lost for a moment. "But...my mommy said never to talk to strangers."
"I won't harm you, baby. I'll help you. Oh, and thanks, honey. Now, c'mon...I bet you a candy bar, we'll find your mom!" Angel said, trying to make her relax and make this even fun for her. This was a big city, but he was sure they had to be near.
"Mommy doesn't like me to have sweet stuff though," she murmured unhappily.
"I'm sure she'll let you just this one time," He said as he pushed a curl of her sandy-blonde hair out of her eyes and started to look around and try to keep steady with her. Sam had her arms wrapped around his neck and legs around his own thin waist line.
Samantha giggled. "You're nice! I like you. Will you help me find my mommy?"
"Of course! Was it this store they told you wait outside of?" he asked, looking up and reading the store's sign. Victoria's Secret.
No wonder... Angel thought and smiled down at his new little friend, who was resting her head on his shoulder. "Want to go look for them inside?"
"I don't think so. Momma didn't want me to go in with her..."
"Well, that was with her, not me." Angel said with a small grin. He did love that store in the first place. Not that he could buy anything in it, but..this was for a little girl. Not himself.
From Sam's appearance, she certainly looked to of come from a family with much money. She had on a Magenta-colored, velvet dress, white tights, black shiny sandals, and a small white sweater. So cute.
She let out another girl-ish giggle and clung tighter to this new man. "Thank you, Angel!"
"Anytime baby," He whispered in her ear and petted her soft hair, as he tried to make his way through the crowds just to get to the door of this little outlet.
Much work went took to do so, though. Cussing was something to be delt with. Angel rolled his eyes and just moved on, not paying them any thought. Doing the best he could, he covered Sam's ears, not wanting to expose her to that.
Finally, they made it. Angel opened the doors, only to be welcomed by some of the most crude, vulgar types of negligee, and under-clothes...I love it! - Angel thought excitedly, but tried to keep calm.
"Icky!" Sam said, crinkling her nose and then hiding her face in face in the nice man's neck.
"I know, honey, we'll find your..mother." Angel said. Doesn't seem like much of a mother. Show her. This kid could've easily got picked up! Humph! He thought angrily.
"Um, excuse me. Excuse me! Ugh! Oh! Ma'am, ma'am! A little help please? This girl's lost a mommy. Mind helping? They were last here. Thanks honey." he said, still in that certain, high, perky voice and waited for a moment as the woman who was helping them out just stared. She looked to be in surprise of Angel, he did talk rather oddly.
"Oh...yes, well...what's the girl's name? Mother's name?" This up-tight, looking woman asked. She wore her hair back in a bun and hada pencil skirt on, not to mention a cuffed, collard, plain white shirt. She looked like the type who wouldn't be working in such a store. The type that would hate everyone who came in.
"Um..Well, her name is Sam." Angel said, smiling down at the little tyke in his arms.
"Hm. Well. How descriptive." she snapped. "I'll call over the intercom. Fine, yes?"
"Perfect," he sneered in a spiteful tone towards her. Somebody's got something shoved to high up their-
"ARE THE PARENTS OF A LITTLE GIRL NAMED SAM IN HERE?" Boomed the hateful woman's voice through the speakers.
The woman waited for a moment, then after having no response, she tried again. "IS ANYONE MISSING A LITTLE GIRL? HER NAME IS SAM." After that last one, she set the microphone down and walked back over to the two. "Well, that's the best I can do. Want me to hold on to the child, er, sir?" she asked, already reaching for the girl in his arms.
"No. I can watch the little thing myself. Are you sure you didn't get any response when you announced about Sa-" Angel was quickly cut off.
"Miss? Miss! My daughter, Sam! Oh! Samantha! Come to mummy!" the shrill voice called.
"MOMMY!" Sam looked up and cried out.
Angel's eyes shot up and watched as a over-weight, over-done, clearly overly-rich woman came bounding over.
"MY BABY! Samantha!" she cried, and ran over, ripping her daughter out of the man's arms. "Oh, Sammy, baby, I'm so sorry. Mommy, she forgot. I thought your nanny was out there with youI love you. I'm sorry!" In all actuality, the 'nanny' who was supposed to be watching Sam was never there.
Samantha nuzzled her mommy. "Mommy! Look! Angel helped me find you!" she said happily.
The mother looked up and over to the short man, "Oh...well...thank you sir," she said, giving him to up-and-down check out of suspicion. "Angel? Odd name," she said off-handedly.
Angel snorted. "Yes. Well, you should of done better with that poor child." He returned in the same tone.
"I do just fine with her and who are you to tell me how raise my own children. Hmm?" the woman raised an eyebrow.
"Just saying, honey." Angel said and smiled warmly at the child.
The child's mother looked at Samantha as well and smiled. "We should talk.." she trailed and looked up at Angel, who was dressed normally, but still it was sort-of ragged kind of clothes. "Looking to make some money, boy?" she asked.
Angel's downcasted eyes drifted up slowly as she spoke. "What?"
"Money? Are you willing to make some? I have something I need done." She shifted as she held the girl.
"No thank you." he spat. "I have my drumming to depend on, thank you."
"Drumming? Ha! Seriously, er, Angel - if that is your name - I have something I think you can help me with."
"What is it?" Angel asked, now with a peaked curiosity, "And yes. Angel Dumott Schunard ma'am."
"Let's go outside." The rotund woman suggested.
She pulled out a cell phone and murmured into the speaking part. "We're ready."
Not long after, a limo parked right outside the establishment, the apparently chaffer honked the horn twice.
"Come on." the mother said.
Angel, mouth hung open, simply nodded and followed behind this large woman and her nearly sleeping daughter in her arms. The woman slipped into the limo, with a bit of trouble, might I add, but finally made it into the back. She patted the space beside her in the backseat, as a motion for her new client to climb in.
And Angel did as directed, still not speaking, he closed the door behind him. Soon, the car started to drive forward.
"Boy," she said, lighting the tip of a cigarette after she laid her sleeping daughter across the other long row of white leather seats. "I have a...problem. I think you can help."
"Al-Alright," he said, crossing his legs in a feminine way.
"You see...my neighbors...well, neighbor. Benjamin Coffin III. Do you know him?"
Little did this woman know, but 'Benny' was in fact the guy who own Angel's apartment complex and Angel owed him last year's rent. Benny had already turned off his power. "Yeah. I know 'em."
"Do you? I live right next to him," she said, taking a puff.
"Wow. Honey, is this going somewhere?" he asked, as the car started moving. Angel wrinkled his nose at the smell of smoke. "That's a bad habit, you know. Smoking."
"Nobody asked you!" she spat quickly. "Now, business please?"
"Sorry. Go on,"
"Good. Anyways, he's got a dog...I hate dogs." she mumbled.
"Just where is this going?" Angel asked.
"If you'd stop interrupting!" she snapped again. "I'll tell you, kid, I haven't slept in months. This...dog...Akita, as he calls it. It's a small..sappy, yappy little thing. Barks so much, it numbs me. Really does. I need you to...rid me of that burden" she said gently picking at what she wanted.
"WHAT! You w-want to me to kill the dog!"
"NO! This is...wrong! Never!" Angel shouted.
"I'll give you one thousand dollars to do so," she offered.
Angel sunk back into the seat, staring off in space for a moment. Finally, he solemnly looked up and uttered. "I'll do it."
A/N: So? How was it? R&R, please.