Seven Districts: Dockside

[DUEL Rory Laurent]

Paige Jenna Ramirez had such a strong charismatic personality and disarmingly good looks that most people tended to be immediately drawn to her. However, there was a minority of those that met her that were at once repulsed by the same unknown quality that attracted most to her. Rory’s manager often called it the “X Factor” while a friend who developed new talent for a record label called it “star quality”. Whatever it was, there was no denying that PJ had it – a lot of it.

That particular morning, PJ was looking exceptionally radiant. Now firmly in her second trimester of her pregnancy, PJ was no longer bothering to hide her blossoming form. A silky camisole top straight off the rack of the city’s hippest maternity boutique highlighted her growing bulge. Her dark eyes concentrated on the ground beneath her feet, not seeming to notice the stares she was getting from those that passed. PJ could certainly stop traffic.

What Rory found particularly remarkable about her ability to stop traffic was in her unique look. PJ certainly was not the long, lean, blonde stereotypical beauty. Not an inch taller than Rory’s five foot one inch, PJ was all curves with a mass of wild dark locks and haunting eyes. There was not a single thing normal about the Badsider Brew spokesmodel. She danced to her own drummer. Her look was rough around the edges but there was something about PJ that caught the eye.

A sunny smile crossed her lips and her dark features brightened considerably as she noticed Rory approaching. “Did you bring it? How much do I owe you?” PJ peppered Rory as soon as they were close enough to allow for conversation.

“It’s good to see you too, Peej,” Rory teased. “You don’t owe me a thing but take your time with this stuff. Remember how strong it is. We don’t want you flipping out like last time.”

PJ rolled her eyes, eagerly opening the bag and rustling inside with the contents. She wetted a finger and then dipped it into the bag. The finger reemerged coated in a layer of white powdery substance. PJ popped the finger into her mouth, sucked off the contents, and then gave Rory a look of orgasmic pleasure.

“Completely disgraceful,” admonished a middle aged woman in a frumpy frock to another of the same sort. The nosey pair had stopped in their window shopping having overheard the conversation between PJ and Rory and deeply misconstrued the topic of conversation.

“Some people simply do not deserve to have children,” the friend replied in the same outraged manner. The pair rudely brushed past Rory and PJ as they continued down the sidewalk on their way to their destination.

PJ’s features scrunched up in confusion at which Rory gave a baffled shrug. Rory reached into the paper bag to pull out one of the brightly wrapped Trixie the Pixie Sticks that it held. Named after PFH’s little hyper ball of fun, the sticks were full of a white powdery flavored sugar treat that PJ and Rory worshiped.

“So you need to buy some property near the docks?” PJ asked as soon as they had each gotten their sugar fix. “Why?”

“Actually, I won’t be buying it. The Duel of Swords will be,” Rory began as they headed towards the Wharfs. “Chris and I have been worried that so few of the barons seem to live in RhyDin anymore. We want to give them a reason for remaining in the city.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” PJ said supportively.

“I figured who better to help me with the... well, more seedy section of town than you.”

PJ laughed warmly. “I will take that as a compliment.”

“I knew you would,” Rory teased, lightly bumping her hip against her friend’s.

“Well, you’re not going to be able to find anything mind-blowing here but if you’re looking for something useful, I think I know of a place that’s actually quite cheap considering its location,” PJ said in a rare moment of seriousness.

“Excellent. Lead the way.”

The energy of the Wharfs was intense. A vast number of people were always scurrying from one place to another, often times loaded down with cargo or merchandise. The district buzzed with the energy of a hundred hives full of worker bees. While Rory found the crowds disconcerting, PJ snaked through the sea of people with ease. The energy level surrounding her, the salty air, and the heavy smell of fish that hung in the air only seemed to boost her own energy level.

“Here it is,” PJ finally announced as if they had journeyed to the Taj Mahal.

Their destination was certainly no Taj, though. Its dingy white exterior was badly in need of a fresh coat of paint and the roof seemed to be missing more than a few shingles. After taking in the building for a long moment, Rory shot PJ a frown. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

PJ waved Rory off. “Keep an open mind, keep an open mind,” she advised.

Heaving a sigh, Rory went to twist the door knob but it refused to open. “Door’s locked,” Rory murmured disappointedly.

The comment drew an eye roll from PJ who nudged Rory aside. In no time at all, PJ swung the door open with a mischievous grin. PJ’s back had obstructed Rory’s view but she was almost positive that PJ had used a method other than a key to gain entry.

“I don’t even want to know how you just did that,” Rory grumbled to PJ as Rory passed through the doorway and into the empty warehouse. Her grumble only made PJ’s proud grin grow wider.

While maintenance was certainly needed, the building seemed to have an air of limitless potential. The structure was vast and empty. Its location, with easy access to the city and main roads, made it prime real estate. “Look,” PJ said as she came to stop alongside Rory, pointing to the far end of the building.

Rory’s gaze followed PJ’s point. The back side of the warehouse was lined on either side of the back door with offices. The offices had thick glass windows on both sides which allowed their occupants to have unobstructed views of both the action outside on the warehouse’s private dock as well as the action within the warehouse itself. The potential for a thriving business was there.

“Well there’s the first one then,” Rory said to PJ with a bright smile.