There you are, miss." Tom let go of my arm once we were off the boat, "Are you sure you don't want any help? New York's a big place."
"No, thank you. I'm sure I can find my brother just fine on my own."
"Well," a board creaked. He was backing up on to the boat, "If you're sure." I nodded and he was gone. I pinned my hair up under my cap and wrinkled my nose. New York smelled. Frankie had told me to go to Brooklyn, fat lot of help that did. I chided myself silently. Frankie did the best he could with what he had, even if what he had was a head full of stories and just enough money for a ticket to New York when he died.
There was nothing I could do about it now. The sun would go down soon, and I was fairly certain I didn't want to be on the street alone at night. Not knowing what else to do, I started walking. After a bit, my nose twitched, I smelled a bakery. Going inside, a wave of conversations hit me, boys mostly, but I heard the ding of a register through the din and mad my way to it, careful to go around the voices so I wouldn't run into anyone.
"What do ya want?" The woman sounded old, but stiff. She wasn't one to take any bull. Keeping my head down I asked how much a roll was. "Three pennies." she said. A boy snickered behind me.
"You're lying." I said calmly. She shifted her weight on the counter.
"Prove it, boy."
I jerked my thumb behind me, "He laughed." I told her, "If you charged everyone three pennies for a roll, he wouldn't have."
"Fine, two pennies." she conceded. I pulled the money out reluctantly, it left me with only ten cents, but I still had to eat. She left for a moment and plunked a roll on the counter. I could here the crust hit the wood, it must have been sitting out for hours.
"No," I said, hoping I hadn't just wasted two cents, "I want one of the ones in back, they just came out of the oven." They smelled delicious.
"Why you pert little thing," she gasped, but went back to get my fresh roll. chairs shifted behind me, people were getting up. I pulled my cap a bit lower over my face. The woman came back and gave me my roll, it was still hot.
"Thank you," I said, then navigated my way back onto the street. It took much longer than it should have for the door to shut behind me. I started walking anyway, biting a chunk out of the roll as I went. There were three pairs of footsteps behind me, all heavier than m, but not heavy enough to be men. I slipped my half- eaten roll into my pocket and gripped my knife. I turned around to face them, "Is there any particular reason you're following me?" I asked. Their breathing put them all together, but one of them stepped forward.
"You'se trespassin' on Brooklyn territory," he said. His voice was clearly intended to be menacing, but it just missed the mark.
"Excellent." I said, surprising even myself, "I was hoping I was in the right place."
"Wha?" One of the boys was clearly shocked that I wasn't cowering in fear.
The third boy, the lightest of the bunch, walked over and grabbed my arm. I dropped my knife back into my pocket, "If he's so eager ta git a soakin' let Spot take care of 'im." The first boy grabbed my other arm and they began leading me, rather roughly I might add. I kept my head down as if in defeat, but internally I laughed. These boys were going to take me directly t the one person Frankie had told me to find. Spot Colon.
By the time we stopped, I could smell the water again. We were at one of the docks, though I was scared I may have lost track of the route we took. "Flames," the voice was high above my head, ten feet, maybe less, "What'ave ya got heah?" His voice was measured, controlled. No emotion was betrayed that he didn't want known. I had to admit I was impressed.
"Trespassah," the boy on my right, the light one, Flames said, "Said 'e wanted ta be in Brooklyn. Figard we'd take 'im ta you'se." I felt and heard Spot jump down from whatever was keeping him up so high. It was much softer than I expected, he must be quite nimble. Flames and the other boy let go of my arms and I tensed up instinctively.
I heard the punch coming and ducked, sweeping my foot out at the same time, trying to swipe his legs out from underneath him. He must have seen it coming because he jumped, giving me time to rise back to my feet.
"What business da you'se 'ave in Brooklyn?" He sounded determined, like he wasn't used to not making contact. His step squeaked on the wood, warning me of his next punch in time to swerve out of his way.
"A friend of mine told me you were the one to see in a," I paused, searching for the right word, "hostile environment." He took a series of punches, all but the last of which I managed to dodge. The last throw came from the right, instead of the left hook I had been expecting, and clipped the side of my jaw.
"Does ya friend 'ave a name?" He asked, still eerily calm. Most fighters would be mad at least by this point.
"Frankie," I said, my head slightly cocked. He had stopped moving. "You might know 'im as Mouth." A board creaked as he shifted his weight, he was just out of arm's reach ahead and slightly to the left of me.
"Mouth sent you'se?" There was a hint of genuine curiosity now.
"That's what I said."
He took a step forward, "'Ow is 'e den?" He took a swing at my gut just as I said,
"He's dead." As soon as I stepped back to avoid the punch, my foot slipped. He had been herding me to the end of the dock! I fell for only a second before hitting the water. It was ice cold, and try as I might, I couldn't find my bearings. A wave rolled over my head, sweeping my hat off and making me realize that I couldn't swim. I couldn't tell up form down and I resigned myself to my fate. I was going to die.