I didn't put any warnings in the first part of this story but this part needs a few: discussion of race and slavery, transphobic and homophobic language. Remember that this is the 1920s. Anyway, please enjoy.

And all the while Allen and James were moving among the crowd of people as if they had never danced before. Hand in hand they swayed and shimmied, swung and shuffled. Wild jazz with roaring horns made their pulses beat to the quick time signature.

Al whooped in delight when James quite easily lifted him up and dipped him low. The plan was going much smoother than he had ever expected it to. Sure he was posing as a dame but hey, it was worth it. That Canadian fella sure could move! Plus, the dress was actually starting to grow on Al. Maybe he would start wearing them more often.

The song ended and the couples on the dancefloor thunderously applauded the band. A female soloist in a black dress glided onstage as a slower tune began to play. People got close to each other again to sway in each other's arms.

"I'm… not much of a slow dancer." Allen could have sworn the look in James's eyes was almost embarrassed.

"That's alright doll," he soothed, patting his shoulder. "I ain't either." Arm in arm they made their way to a table near the stage. Heat from dancing too close to other warm bodies made perspiration dot both of their foreheads. Al fanned himself with his hand.

"Geez Louise! It's like Hell in here," he whined as he caught his breath. Some of his makeup was beginning to wash off with the sweat. He removed his shawl in hopes of getting cooler.

James undid the top two buttons of his shirt. "You said it. I think it's worse for me because it never gets this warm where I live."

"Oh yeah, I meant to ask. What're you and yah cousin doing all the way down here in Chicago?"

"Francois invited me to come down here with him because he doesn't think I have enough fun in my life. I spend the majority of my time at the logging camp and carpenter shop because I have to take care of myself. Living isn't free."

"But working all the time ain't living. Life is a helluva lot shorter than you might think. I plan to have all the fun I can while I'm still able."

"Fun doesn't put a roof over your head and food in your stomach," he scoffed.

"I damn well know that! I have a job at Oliva's bakery. That's the only reason I'm still alive." A bitter sort of laugh left his lips. "Thank goodness that limey's crazy enough to actually not care and hire a mutt like me."

James frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Allen lifted up a hand. The dim lighting made his lovely brown skin tone even darker. "Negro, white and Native American. If that ain't mixed up I dunno what is."

"Put your damn hand down," he growled. "You're not a mutt, you're not mixed up; you're a damn person. How many years will it take for everyone to understand that?" There was strained silence between them until Al gave a gap toothed grin.

"You ain't like any man I've ever met before, James." He shifted his body to lean in from across the small table. "I think you're real nice, real handsome." The Canadian man hesitated a moment before shifting closer as well with his head tilted down. Their lips were a hair's width away from brushing together.

"So how 'bout you get me a drink?" Spoke Allen breathily. James blinked at the words before beginning to chuckle. Of course this dame would like playing hard to get.

"Whiskey?"

"Double shot, on the rocks."

"I don't think there's anything that makes my heart go a-flutter more than a lady who knows how to drink," he crooned, only the slightest bit sarcastic. Al watched him walk away with great interest until he disappeared into the throngs of people.

With an annoyed huff he scratched his cheek. The blush was irritating his skin. His kohl was most likely smeared but he didn't give it much thought. How in the hell did women deal with wearing all that face paint and wearing high heels and having to act so dainty all the time? Good thing he was only Alana for the evening. By tomorrow morning he would be Allen again. A frown pulled at his lips. And James would have never tried to kiss Allen. He had no idea Allen even existed. That was a predicament. Al was starting to feel a sense of attachment to a man who didn't even know his true identity.

And he never will, Al thought decidedly. I'll just enjoy what I can now. Good things don't last long anyways. Besides… For the first time that night his mind wandered to the meeting he had decided not to attend. I probably don't have much longer to live anyhow. For all I know this is my final night out.

Not wanting to ponder on that grim subject any longer he glanced around. No wonder James hadn't returned yet. The club was packed ridiculously tight with a colorful variety of individuals. Looking past a group of women in pastel dresses, he spotted someone who held his attention at once. It was a man, slim and dark haired, dressed impeccably in a black suit. Al stared, not even realizing the man noticed him until a deliberate wink was sent his way. Oh how flattering! Being in drag really did work wonders. The gesture was returned with a coy smile and a wave. The man's lips curled into an amused smirk but before he could make his way over to the table a hand was clasped on his shoulder. Another man came into view, also in a suit, blonde hair, a harsh looking scar across his left cheek. He glared towards the table, blue eyes alight with recognition.

Oh no.

Oh no.

Oh no.

That scar. Al knew that scar. Al knew that scar because a couple years back when he was living on the streets he got sauced on cobra whiskey at a brothel in New Jersey and during a drunken bar fight he had given an aggressive German that scar with a well-placed slash of a streak knife. Those were… those were some dark times in his life. Things were about to get a helluva lot darker, however, if he didn't high tail it out of there while he still could. That German also just so happened to be employed by the last person Al wanted to see that evening.

Heavy panic fogging his mind made him a lot more conspicuous when he sprung up from his seat and tried to move away from the area. What the hell was he gonna do? Not getting caught was certainly a good start. He was too afraid to even look over his shoulder to see if the German was following. What was his name again anyway? Luke? Larry? Not like it would matter when he got his thick fingers around Allen's throat.

Finally he made it to a less crowded pocket of the club. He looked left. There was no threat in sight. He could feel himself start to breathe again. He looked right.

"Ciao, bella."

"Christ on a bike!" He clutched a hand to his heart, jumping a foot back. When he did he could feel his back hit something solid but warm. He reached his other hand behind himself. Hm. Clothing felt real nice, firm muscles underneath. His hand travelled up higher. Strong jawline, slight stubble, raised skin, like a scar, on the cheek…

"H-hey there uh… Ludwig, is it?" He yelped when his arm was grabbed and twisted behind his back.

"Lutz, actually," came the heavily accented reply growled into his ear. "Don't think I've forgotten what you did, Jones." Al could have sworn he heard his wrist crack a little.

"I am disappointed that I had to go through all of this trouble just to track you down." His fear of the other man had caused Al to forget that the mob boss was even standing there, perfectly suited in Italian fabric and looking self-satisfied as always. "I even had Kuro write you a nice little note so he could practice his English. You went through so much trouble, didn't you Kuro?" Al hadn't even noticed the dark haired man was off to the side next to Lutz.

"Listen Luciano I'm real sorry-"

"I go through all this damn trouble to try and be civilized but I have to hunt you down like the filthy dog you are! And where do I find you?" His lips curled into a sneer. "At a club, dressed as a woman. What kind of disgusting pervert are you?"

Al swallowed. "The kind who likes dancin' with attractive fellas?"

"You find me attractive?" Al found himself ripped from Lutz's grasp, a protective arm wrapping around his waist. James smiled down at him. "Well thanks. You're quite a doll yourself."

"Took yah long enough to get them drinks." There was no malice in his words. He was grinning like a fool, never happier to see a man in his whole life.

"I got back to the table with them and saw you weren't there. What the fuck are pieces of trash like these doing around a lady like you?"

"That is no lady," Luciano spat viciously, his smile cruel. "If you were planning to bed that dog you would have gotten quite the surprise. That is a man."

"Oh I know."

"What?" came the collective reply.

An eyebrow was raised. "I know. I'm not dense, eh."

"You knew the whole time?" Al asked quietly. This was unbelievable.

"Of course I did. You're a little too handsome to fully pass but if you want to be a lady you are one- oof!" James's sides were squeezed tight in a joy filled hug.

"By George I swear you're the greatest man I've ever met! I don't actually wanna be a dame, my name is actually Allen, and this was actually all a crazy scheme of Oliver's! I'm real sorry and I hope you still like me even though I'm not pretending as a girl anymore."

"I like men too so-" That time he was interrupted by a mouth pressed over his. Maybe this wasn't the type of person to play hard to get after all. The kiss seared James right down to his very core.

"Scusami," Luciano hissed in annoyance. They paid no attention to him, only continuing their heated embrace.

"Scusami," the Italian said again, this time louder. 'One moment' Al gestured, holding up a single finger. There were some rather obscene moans between him and James.

"Listen up idiotas!" When Allen and James broke away from each other there was a gun pointed in their direction. "I did not come to this club tonight to watch that disgusting scene you just pulled. I am here because that," he pointed towards Al, "that he-she owes me two thousand dollars plus interest. I loaned it to him so that his little friend could open a bakery and now it is time to pay up."

"But Luciano I ain't got that kind of money! Just gimme some more time."

"No. No more time. If you cannot pay your debt with money you will do so with your body and soul. There are people down in the south of your country who do not consider slavery to be over."

Al clenched his fists so hard that his nails dug into his palms. "You fucking wouldn't!"

"You act as if you do not even know me," he chuckled. "Now come with us quietly. There's no need to make a scene."

"And what if I don't let you take him?" James's voice was still calm but his eyes burned with fury.

"If you interfere you will get hurt. Perhaps I will shoot you or Lutz will break your neck with his bare hands. Either one works for me. I suggest you leave while you still can."

There was complete and total silence between the five men standing there. Luciano smirked. Kuro seemed bored. Lutz's eyes were shooting daggers at Al. Al was staring at James. He wouldn't just leave him. He wouldn't just walk away.

But he did.

"You bastard! You son of a whore!" Even as Luciano began pushing him along, Allen screamed at James. "Burn in Hell, you hear me?" The gun was pressed to the small of his back.

"Shut your mouth. Do not make a scene or Lutz will beat you when we get outside." Though he suspected he would do that anyway he quieted down. Anger wrenched in his stomach. What was he even expecting? Did he think that James would just fight for him like some knight in a fairy tale? They had met just a few hours ago but a part of Al hoped that the man had cared for him somehow. Apparently not.

The only way to exit the club was to get through the crowds of people. It was most dense by the bar so Luciano forced Allen across the dance floor. Another slow song was ending and the band was starting to pick up again. Young men and woman paired up with each other and began to groove without a care in the world. Wild dips and twirls jostled against the men, the only ones not dancing. There was a split moment when Al found the barrel of the gun not to his back. He quickly allowed himself to be consumed into the mass of movement.

The mob boss seethed when he realized his prisoner had escaped. "After him!" he roared to his cronies over the music. Lutz and Kuro forced their way between people in a frantic search for Jones who, little did they know, was dancing with a man in hopes of blending in.

"May I intervene?" someone asked the man. He relinquished Allen into the other's arms with a swing.

"You!" James merely smiled and elegantly dipped his 'lady' low.

"You didn't really think I'd run away like that, did you? I went to find Oliver and Francois. They were doing some heavy petting in the corner." Al couldn't help but hoot with laughter.

"Damn Ollie! Didn't think you'd know how to have that much fun. Where are they now?"

"Right here, love!" chirped a voice from a couple that danced up next to them. Oliver's hair was a bit messy and a few discolored marks were visible on his pale throat. "Now what in heaven's name is going on?"

"There's no time to explain! We gotta get out of here now or-" From seemingly nowhere a fist busted into his face. James tried to catch him before he fell but was a second too late.

"You're not going anywhere!" Lutz had murder in his eyes as he towered over the fallen man.

Oliver gasped in outrage. "No one hurts my darling Allen!" From his purse he whipped out… a steak knife. "Get away from him you big meanie!" In one powerful thrust the blade was buried into the German's shoulder blade.

"Aah!" he bellowed, bucking like an enraged bull, trying to grasp the weapon embedded in his flesh. All four of them stared.

Francois gave a low whistle with amused awe. "Merde, Oliver." James nodded in agreement as he helped the fallen to his feet.

"There they are!" It seemed that Luciano and Kuro had finally spotted them.

"Hoof it?" suggested Al. No one needed to be told twice. They ran, plowing through anyone in their way. A few gun shots rang behind them, followed by a chorus screams. It then seemed like everyone present was trying to exit the club at once. James grabbed onto Oliver's hand so he wouldn't get trampled. When they escaped they bolted down the street, both thinking that the other two were close behind. Francois and Allen had gotten caught in the stampede. Luckily they weren't separated enough not to find each other once they got out. They happened to, however, run in the opposite direction of their companions.

The helluva evening was just getting started.

I am ecstatic that I finally finished the second part! I already have ideas for part three. Reviews are loved and fuel my desire to write. Thanks for reading.