"Wake Me Up, Before you GO GO"
The alarm sounds like an amp turned up too eleven. Nausea settles deep in my belly as the events of last night play over like a nightmare. Almost getting mugged (possibly killed), getting saved by a helmet mask guy, and then having the guy walk me home after I stopped him from killing someone. Daredevil. The name still tastes foreign, even though it's been playing over and over from the moment I crash landed in my bed. The man, covered from head to toe in crimson, saved the day. His tone dark, brooding, with a hint of loneliness that could shatter even the happiness of souls. His tone changed after he laughed, even the small chuckle managed to light up the world around us. It was like Beethoven's final symphony, perfect but not completely whole. Feeling like this after last night, it's like a hangover from to much adrenaline. The sun peaks through the black out curtains, casting dancing shadows across the unpainted walls. The bitter smell of coffee drifts through the air, an intoxicating way to make my eyes open fully. A deep breath through the nostrils helps my body fully appreciate the hot, bitter, bean water that is brewing. After the sixth time of playing the song, my alarm finally shuts off. Then a realization hit me; how do I smell brewing coffee? I haven't gotten up yet, OH-
"MY GOD! WHO THE FUCK IS IN MY HOUSE?!"
The room moved so quickly, that it seemed the earth was playing a game. I don't think I've ever moved so quickly in my 25 years of life. Grabbing the hidden bat from beneath my bed, I storm my way into the small kitchen. Mentally preparing to fight 'Daredevil' to the death my breath hitches. What if it is Red? I mean if he was really down for murder he could've easily done it last night. Maybe he wants to rape and murder me? Again, last night was the best opportunity. Hmm possibly he just wants a cup of Jo after a long night of beating people up? The small hallway conceals whoever is on the other side. The metal instrument feels heavy as my breaths come in small gasps. The bat rises painfully slow over head while I try to make as little noise as possible. This is it. Charlie, you're going to become a murderer but it's okay. Fogger can help ya. Oh I cannot go to prison I am way to pretty for that. And sarcastic. I'd be killed the first day. Inhaling deeply, time seems to slow down. My vision becomes focused on a shadow peeking around the corner, getting prepared to probably get murdered. A loud battle cry, that sounds more like a shriek escapes as I pounce.
"CHARLIE WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
"WHAA-Foggy? FOGGY! How in the fucking hell did you get in? Did-Did you BREAK into my apartment? That's it, I'm getting a fucking dog. After last night, and now my best friend breaking into my house, I need a killer. Like a German Shepherd or someth-QUIT LAUGHING AT ME."
It was so hard to stay mad at Foggy, especially when he starts to laugh. Franklin Percy Nelson, better known as Foggy to friends and Fogger to me. We've been attached at the hip since childhood. Our mother's went to college together and had Foggy and I two years apart. He used to baby sit me in Junior High, and I used to hang out with him and all his friends. When he graduated for Columbia, I was there with flowers and a stuffed frog that he keeps on his desk. He's been such a pain in the ass, but the best friend a girl could hope for. Just like an older brother, even though I never wanted one. Foggy embraced me in a deep hug, his warmth seeping in through my cold body. He smelled of flowery shampoo and a masculine cologne, a scent that was always a distant memory. His soft figure presses firmly against mine, and underneath a hard body hides. This takes me off guard and I pull away, finally examining him. Foggy was about 5'9 and had some of the best hair I had seen on anyone. The hair was blonde, lustrous, and to be envy'd by women everywhere. Foggy's eyes were ever-changing with his moods. The colors switch between hazel and green, creating an illusion at times where he had two different colored eyes at the same time. He was always on the thicker side but he seems much smaller than the last time. He's wearing a loose fitting suit, one that shows his weight loss but in a flattering way.
"Fogger, have you been working out? YOU CUT YOUR HAIR? Oh Aunt Anna must hate that!"
"Charlie, calm down take a breath. Here, have some coffee; we can catch up on the way to work. I brought you a bagel also. So eat up, get ready, and prepare for your first day as a lawyer!"
"But Fog-"
"No but's, now hurry up. Wear something professional, also watch the language."
*********************************************
"He gave you his hood- Wait. So you're telling me, the Devil of Hells Kitchen saved you last night and gave you a hoodie? Daredevil? That's some story Char, and lemme guess the 'Punisher' carried you home?"
"The Punish- No, idiot. I told you. Daredevil walked me home and on the way gave me his hoodie. Why is this so hard to believe? I, a beautiful young woman was in distress, and a weird guy in a red helmet mask saved me."
The sun was high in the sky by the time we had started toward the firm. The city way alive and in full force. Car horns, police sirens, laughing, yelling, cursing, everything you picture New York to be in the middle of Autumn. The crisp air nips at exposed skin, making the dress I'm wearing to be a bit uncomfortable. Recounting the events of last night seemed to be a light joke to Foggy. His hazel/green eyes lit up when I told him about the cheerleader comments. He found the whole situation funny, which by the end of the tale I was laughing also. The whole story sounds like some weird comic book illustration. A beautiful young woman walking down the street, gets attacked by a mugger, and a masked cheerleader saves the day? Almost comedy gold. It makes one wonder.
"So wait," I get out between a sip of coffee "You're telling me the guy that rescued me last night was probably an escaped mental patient? Great, and I led the guy right to my front door."
"HAH! No, idiot. He's just known as a myth and legend. He took down Wilson Fisk! The Wilson Fisk! The biggest baddie of Hells Kitchen"
"You helped too Fogger. Hmph, well last night I saw the legend. Like when those religious people see Jesus or whatever. I could be a prophet."
"Charlie if you don't shut up, I'm going to push you into traffic."
A cold wind rushes past, making my hair fly about like Disney's Pocahontas. With hair everywhere, I bump into a person waiting at the cross walk. His body is hard, lean, and didn't move an inch. Foggy cackles beside me and the stranger apologizes before greeting Foggy. His tone is light, happy, and sounds a little familiar. His voice is moderately deep, a bit monotone as if he's trying to mask the emotions in his voice. The sweet smell of cinnamon fills the air as my hair begins to clear from my face. A small curse falls out of my mouth as I apologize to the stranger. His smile was the first thing to catch my attention, a bright white smile that could melt ice. Brown hair parted on the right side fell fashionably to the left, lightly brushing into his face with the wind. Round sunglasses tinted red covered his eyes, giving no hint to the objects behind them. His jaw was covered in a dark stubble, it made him look distinguished and hardworking. His fitted suit clung attractively to his body, one hand lazily in his pocket while the other holding a white cane. The smiling face turned to one of shock as if he finally realized someone had bumped into him. A pinkish hue kissed at his pale cheeks, while extending his hand.
"Hi, I'm Matt. Foggy has told me so much about you Charlotte."
"Um hi, and please call me Charlie; Charlotte makes me feel like a Puritan."
"Alright Charlie, it's nice to meet you. Foggy told me that you're our new employee?"
"It looks that way Matty. I hope you're okay with a powerful, intelligent, good-looking woman coming in and running shit."
Matt coughs loudly while I place my hands on my hips. Foggy laughs hard, placing a hand softly on Matt's shoulder to guide him to the cross walk. Without any further remarks I shrug and continue on my journey. During the day, Hells Kitchen looked like a giant playground for those trying to make it. Business men and women, peddlers on the street, store owners; here in New York you can achieve anything. New York where all your dreams can come true, where you can get rescued by a weirdo in a red mask, or help the most wanted man fight for what he believes in.
**********************************************
The building was tall and made of brick, like most of the structures on the street. The smell of rotting wood and old books assault the senses as soon as the front door opens. Chipped paint line the walls leading to the small area that is 'Nelson and Murdock'. The door knob struggles to turn as Foggy forces his way in. Matt follows, holding the door open before I slink by. 'Nelson and Murdock' consisted of two small offices, opposing each other from the room. Sitting center is a small waiting area, and a desk with 'Charlotte L. Phoenix: Attorney Secretary.'
"Attorney Secre- That's not. Fogger, why does this say 'attorney secretary'?"
"Fogger?" Matt pipes in before ducking into his office.
"Uhhhh, Charlie."
"Franklin Percy Nelson, why does it say secretary and not 'attorney at law' what shit is this?"
"Charlie, remember language..."
"You can shove that out your ass. You can tell your employees to watch their language. I'm out of-"
"Char, before you finish that, please sit."
Foggy motions to his office and an ancient chair that's placed symmetrically in front of his desk. The aged chair groans loudly under the new weight that has occupied it. On Foggy's desk, a small frog sits directly by his monitor. A baseball in a glass case sat on the corner, while case files fill in any empty space. Foggy sat on the edge of his desk, and ran his hands nervously through that thick blonde hair. In all of the years I've known Foggy, I've only seen him flustered a handful of times. The worst was during Christmas vacation before his final bar exams. Never have I seen a man drink so many energy drinks, cheap coffee, and eat so much deli meat. It's like he didn't sleep for five months. Matt approached silently, which for a blind guy is pretty impressive. He stood stoic in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. He smirked a little before nodding toward Foggy. I focus my attention back to Foggy and raise an eyebrow.
"Charlie."
"Foggy."
"Charlotte."
"Really, we're gonna do this? I'll leave right now."
"Sorry. Sorry. Listen, Charlie, I know I may have misled-"
"Misled?! Franklin you lied to me!"
"Tomayto, Tomahto. Listen, Charlie, we really do need you. Matt and I need you." Foggy paused walking over to his partner. "We need someone who can do the secretary stuff and the law stuff. Think how awesome that would be! Right Matt?"
"Yeah, um, right"
"Thank you Matthew. Listen, we helped put Wilson Fisk away! We're growing so quickly and we may need assistance in setting up appointments, getting coffee, making cop-"
Matt hastily puts his hand over Foggy's mouth. A thick and heavy silence pushes its way into the small room. Matt pushes Foggy away. My eyes trail after Foggy, his head hung while dragging his feet out of the office. And then there were two. The crushing silence turned into something more comfortable when Foggy had left. Within five grueling minutes, Matt steps forward pinching the bridge of his nose. No bumps, no stumbles, walking perfectly as if he could see as clear as a hawk, Matt makes his way to the desk. He's must've done this walk a thousand times because he manages to end up where Foggy began. Matt leans comfortably against the desk, deep in thought. I savor the silence between us and look the lawyer over again. Small scars kiss his cheeks, lips, and forehead. A small cut stands out against his chapped lips as he rolls them together. Matt motions his head in my direction, as if making eye contact.
"So, um, hah, that was something." His voice was soft and uncertain. He grabbed the back of his neck and moved his head back.
Instead of a verbal response, I give a loud scoff and a hard eye roll.
"Charlie."
"Matthew."
"Please..."
Hm.
"Look, I understand you're upset; and I would be too. You want to be out there, making a difference in a world that needs heroes. Legal heroes. Th-Think of this as a field test. We're defense attorney's Charlie, so we get clients who have done some of the worst things you can imagine. Murder, rape, domestic violence, and more. Everyone deserves representation, and we've chosen to risk our names and occasionally our lives, to let everyone have a fair shot. But, we chose this. Maybe, with you helping and taking small cases here and there, you'll gather if this is what you want. Plus, Foggy would love to have you here. You also smell really nice, and it would give me a break from Foggy's cologne."
Matt smirks and I can't help but give a small smile in return. He could be right. Since Foggy and I were kids, we always talked about being lawyers. After watching 'My Cousin Vinny', we both decided our career path. Prosecutors do a lot of good work. The phone rings quietly in the background, and Foggy happily answers. The broken heater attempts to kick on, only blowing cold air into the small office. Matt has crossed his arms his head hanging desperate for an answer.
"Matt."
I reach out, and grab his forearms. His muscles tense as he uncrosses his arms, each movement causing small ripples in the fabric of his shirt. Grabbing his hands, my attention is drawn to them. He has long, slender, and pale fingers that give a stark contrast to my own. Bright pink scars decorate his knuckles. Smaller, almost invisibly faint scars trace up to his wrists; disappearing beneath the fabric. I trace my thumbs over his knuckles, looking up to see his head lifted to meet my gaze.
"I-Yeah, but-" Without being able to finish my thought, Foggy barged back into the office. His voice full of excitement and suspense.
"Matt, we just got a call from Karen."
Matt's hands fall from mine as he stands straight. His head snaps in the direction of Foggy, and a new awkward tension kills the space between us. Whose Karen? Is she Matt's girlfriend? Is she Foggy's girlfriend? He said we, so it has to be a 'we' thing. Matt brushes past before stopping midway.
"So Charlie's in, what's up with Karen?"
Before I get a chance to interject, Foggy cuts in.
"Frank 'Mother Fucking' Castle."