Notes: A-Rab's taunt to Anybodys comes from the WSS novelisation...even though the book gets on my nerves. No songs, and the Jets are nowhere near as goofy and loveable as they are in the film/musical.
Still dedicated to LazyChestnut and viennacantabile, if only because their reviews make my life. And vienna's new icon made me choke on my drink with giggles. Painful, yes, but worth it.
-o-
2: New Kid on the Block
"Oh boy, I love it!" Nearly hanging off his chair, Snowboy banged on the flat of the table with his bottle. "Makin' Action leader; can ya believe it?"
The Jets hadn't even managed to wait until Tony's apartment door had swung shut before making their amusement known. With Riff and Tony out of sight and Action down in the cellar swiping chocolate-chip cookies; it was the perfect time to beef about their new (temporary) leader. Only A-Rab cast an uneasy eye back to the cellar door, leaning against the pinball machine with an affected slouch that didn't quite hide his irritation.
Smirking, Big Deal picked up a refill. "Ah, betcha he'll be no sweat. Just point him in the direction of some Hawks and watch the fireworks; nothin' to worry about."
"Yeah. Hey, Big Deal, didja ever seen those westerns where the town drunk's made Sheriff?" Snowboy gave a loud whoop and shook his head. "Man, what was Riff thinkin'?"
He was Action's best friend, which was why he made a disgruntled face, shaking his head. No-one better than A-Rab knew what a royal pain in the ass Action could be, and alright, he suspected Action was going to completely cock this up, but still; pals were pals. "Riff's got his reasons."
"So did the engineers on the Titanic," muttered Gee-Tar, who read for pleasure and was therefore the Jets' resident brains. "Look at how well that went."
Chuckling, Snowboy gave A-Rab the finger. "You're pinnin' your hopes on the wrong guy, A-Rab. The only thing Action's got goin' for him is that it's sure gonna be funny to see him screw this up – "
"You think so, do you?"
Jesus, was it some kind of special power that was given to all gang leaders that let them sneak up on their men like that? Spinning around frantically, biting back a curse, A-Rab grimaced as he caught sight of Action, a particularly dark look in his eyes. The Jet glowered around at his fellow gang members before striding out to the nearest chair, kicking out as he did so. A-Rab was gratified to see his foot make direct contact with the leg of Snowboy's seat, spinning him off balance.
The cringe on Snowboy's part was almost instinctual. "Sorry Action. I'm sorry I laughed."
"So ya should be," the boy snapped roughly. Spinning around, Action jabbed an irritated finger at different members of the Jets. "Chrissakes, look at ya! Half of you're in the same places you was yesterday!"
"Right." Snapping his fingers at the rest of the gang and winking, Tiger came forward, leaning his elbow deftly against A-Rab's shoulder. "So what's your mood, Action?" As he leant forward expectantly, A-Rab nevertheless inwardly groaned as Mouthpiece drew closer from the other side, his elbow resting against his other shoulder.
Jesus. Tiger and Mouthpiece. Now A-Rab wasn't an antsy kind of guy, he rubbed along with pretty much everyone in the gang, but…well, the muscle heads could get a bit much. More than a bit much, especially when they started using him as an arm-rest. He scowled awkwardly, shifting position as his trainers scuffed against the floor. He knew he was short, but would the guys let up? Would they hell. Wanting to be big wasn't helped by Godzilla's twin brothers rubbing it in at every opportunity. Boy, they really were a pair of pips, and dumb to boot – although not so dumb that they didn't know not to attach themselves to whoever was holding the balance of power in the Jets.
Action's dark eyes narrowed. From under his burden (jeepers creepers, how much did those two weigh?) A-Rab could pretty well appreciate the problem. Action was fourth in command, Riff's personal lieutenant and the best guy to have your back in a fight, but no-one let him make decisions. Tony and Riff just weren't that stupid. Not that Action was dumb – far from it, and you made that mistake at your peril – he was just the kind of guy to swing first and ask questions later. No-one trusted him. To be suddenly asked what his fancy was…well, to a guy like A-Rab, who joked and jibed and was never taken seriously, that was like owning your own candy store. "What's my mood?" He repeated the words thoughtfully, as if getting used to how they felt in his mouth.
"Yeah," Mouthpiece grinned, popping his gum. "All-night movies? The chicks? Or you wanna see if we can't find any Hawks lurkin' on our turf?"
Tiger exchanged an amused look over the top of A-Rab's curly head. "Yeah, we can send the shrimp over to play lookout." One spade-like hand reached down to ruffle A-Rab's hair.
Oh good, Tiger was in one of his humorous moods. Clicking his tongue irritably, the smaller Jet rolled his eyes with a flourish.
If anything, Action's eyes narrowed even further. A-Rab ducked his head to smirk at what the knuckleheads hadn't noticed – that while he was small, their illustrious new leader was even shorter. With a jerk of his head, he signalled for them to let up. "Nah," he drawled, flashing a grin at his best friend. "We're goin' on patrol; but you two can go play lookout if you're so keen. A-Rab, up front with me."
And that was something else, A-Rab recognized with a snicker as he danced around Tiger and Mouthpiece before they figured out what had happened. With his buddy as leader someone, someone, had to be his second by default. Somehow he doubted it was going to be Ice. His teeth glinting in a triumphant smirk that he directed at Snowboy, he hooked his thumb behind his belt buckle with a swagger in his step; glowing in superiority by association. And despite their doubts, he could begin to feel the Jets' mood lighten, swelling up. Hanging around here was all very well and good, but there was nothing better than when they were out and treading their turf; when the Jets were ready for anything that anybody threw at them.
"Gettin' used to it, huh?" A-Rab chuckled, slinging his spare arm around his buddy's neck.
Action merely raised his eyebrows. "Might be. I'm tellin' ya, A-Rab, I dunno why everyone says Riff'n Tony do such a 'great job'. There's nothin' to it – "
ACHOO!
Terrific. As they stepped out over the threshold of Doc's drugstore, Action swivelled on his toes and jabbed an accusing finger at a pallid, shivering Ice. The Jet still cut an impressive figure, but the pink tinge of his eyes and nose swore blind that he was in no fit state to put up a fight. "And you…" their new leader growled, "either stuff somethin' up into that schnoz of yours or hold your breath until your sneezin' stops altogether, ya got that?"
For a moment the entire gang seemed to hold their breath. No-one spoke to Ice like that.
And then Ice nodded slowly, holding up both hands in a show of defeat. There was an amused glint in his eye, as if he was merely humouring his friend, but the fact remained that Action was now walking away with all his limbs intact.
The murmuring amongst the Jets became a buzzing of whispered discussion.
"Can you say that to him?" Baby John whispered with a scandalised gasp.
Action grinned coolly back. "I'm leader for the duration, Baby John," he smirked. "I can get away with anythin'…"
-o-
Tiger shifted his feet awkwardly, grateful beyond words that the cellar was cool and dimly lit, hiding his burning face. Bias against anyone shorter than him aside, the Jet was a good, if slow, guy; and he certainly didn't deserve to be the Gang's quartermaster while Action was in charge.
"Why didja hafta drag me all the way down here?" Action snapped furiously, voice slightly muffled as he rootled through the hidden cellar bin that was their armoury. "Ain't it your job to see all this junk is sorted out?"
The cough which cleared his throat sounded nervous too. "Uh…yeah…yeah it is. But Riff always checked it out 'ccasionally, so's everything checked out ok, you know? I know Tony likes him to."
Well, this was all wrong for a start. Action huffed darkly, wincing as his hand cut on a length of bicycle chain; Machiavellian thoughts running through his head. Boy, if I ever make leader for real, there's gonna be some changes around here. And it's gonna start with organisin' responsibilities, and teamwork, and expansion and Tiger gettin' his head kicked in; if I have any say in it. Which I will.
"An'…well, I asked Ice, an' he said I should get you to check it out…"
When he is lyin' on the ground, writhin' in agony, the Jets' noble leader mused, Tiger is not going to be lonely.
"Fine," he forced through gritted teeth, a concession made only with the observation that Tiger was a whole head taller than him and built like a brick tank. You can take leadership only so far. Rolling his eyes, he made a sullen show of scrabbling his hands through the small, but deadly jumble of weapons. "Bike chains, brass knuckles, knives, knuckle-knives , ice picks." Resurfacing, Action shot Tiger a baleful look. "So?"
As predicted, Tiger shifted his feet further against the ground. He knew it, he knew this was going to get awkward. "Not all them brass knuckles, Action." He looked close to agonised. "I mean, there's a pair missin'."
Action just blinked. "So?"
"Well, they cost, for one thing. An' for another – well, no-one's gonna let somethin' like that go missin'. Why wouldn't they give 'em back?"
Because most of the gang can think in more than a straight line, you dumb ape, Action thought. Somehow in the process of making its way from his mind to his mouth, the thought transformed itself into. "Protection on the way home?"
Even gang commanders have a survival instinct. Actually, due to their increasingly shaky position on the mountain that is a gang social structure, it is far more highly defined. Fists like a cow's ass are duly noted, and the owner of such fists are treated with caution.
Tiger looked all the more tortured. "Maybe…"
"Chrissakes, is this important Tiger?"
The young man winced. "Riff used ta take an interest…"
"Is it important?" Some voices can be used to cut glass. Action's could probably have punched through a steel wall.
Tiger's head hung. "No, Action."
Action just looked at him, before shrugging.
"Well then," he drawled carelessly. "Time to get back to leaderin', I s'pose." A sudden thought struck him. "Did Riff start frettin' about that kind of crap a lot?"
"Dunno, Action. He takes an interest, I know that. And Tony always liked to be told."
"No wonder nothin's ever happenin' around here." Action grumbled, but only half-heartedly. The wheels in his brain were starting to turn slowly. Sure, Riff…and Tony, he added swiftly, do stuff in a certain way. But they're not here at the moment, are they? I am.
And if anyone argued…
The gang leader is the first among equals. Well that was he. The word 'first' was, he gathered, germane in the situation – or at least, it would have been, if he knew what germane meant. This notion, translated into Action's thoughts, went thus: I'm the leader. I knew we could do things better than this. Anyone who wants to argue can talk to me; I'm fine with that. We'll just see how well they manage it with half their teeth.
-o-
Action didn't even have to say anything the following morning when he walked into Doc's – Gee-Tar immediately got up from his chair, leaving it vacant. Alright, so he usually preferred to stand up or pace, expelling the surplus energy that was churning up inside of him, but that was the thing, wasn't it? Leadership. The perks of the job. Usually he had to grab Baby John by the scruff of the neck and haul his ass out of a chair if he wanted one, because he was Action and that was how he did things. It was expected of him to rough up the lower-downs a bit. It kept his reputation running. And now…now he was the leader, and people did stuff for him. He smirked. And as A-Rab swaggered in, swiping a cigarette pack from the counter, another chair was vacated. If Action had been smug, you could have lit candles from A-Rab's grin.
The mood was, typically, ruined by Ice, who kicked the back of his chair warningly. "Joyboy and Mouthpiece," he muttered, nodding to where the pair of Jets were – well, discussing was a polite description of the hissed whispers that were being exchanged between the two. Bodies were being shifted ever so slightly so two pairs of hands were left free. "You want I should do somethin' about it?"
Action cast a lazy eye over the proceedings with a tremendous lack of interest, ignoring Ice's pointedly subservient tone. Alright, so the two bickered occasionally, but who didn't? Exchanging thinly veiled threats and asserting your authority was just a way of life. Besides, even if it did result in a tussle, who cared? As far as Action, who considered the day wasted unless he'd busted a head or two, was concerned, they could punch each other's lights out if it made them happy. "Aw, lettem alone. They ain't doin' anything wrong."
Ice raised an eyebrow. "You should keep an eye on them."
Should? His eyes narrowed. "Look, if they wanna fight, they can fight." Action's teeth gritted. "I'm the leader, not a buggin' babysitter."
"Well, you're the boss…" Ice's hands spread carelessly, as if absolving him of all responsibility.
"Yeah. I am."
Already impatient with this conversation, Action pushed himself up roughly from the chair, striding over to get himself a drink. His movements were jerky, quick – but not quick enough to get him out of earshot from Ice's cool mutter of: "Riff would've kept an eye on things."
It was enough to spark of Action's already edgy temper; although these days anything was enough for that. Flaring up, he whirled around, eyes flashing. "Well Riff ain't here right now, is he? I am!" Without waiting for an answer he continued to pace across the length of the store, pushing past Big Deal; who was sitting at a table on his own, head heavily in his hands. "Move it, Big Deal."
If the boy said something in reply to this, Action didn't hear it.
Swigging down the bottle of soda that Doc had left out on the counter for him – and that was another thing about this job, Doc was no longer patronising the hell out of him; just quietly and indulgently keeping out of his way – Action let out a soft groan as the doors swung open to admit Graziella, Clarice, Minnie, Pauline and Bridget. He didn't like Graziella at the best of times (boy, but he was damn sure that that broad had cotton candy stuffed where her brain should have been), and now with no Riff to complain to, she was just a further inconvenience. Besides, he didn't like the idea that a chick might latch onto the new leader just because of his status. If Graziella came after him, he was quite cheerfully hiding down in the basement; Jet or no Jet, leader or no leader.
As for the others...well, Clarice latched onto anything wearing trousers, Minnie was a bubblehead, and Pauline was smart, which meant she had a tendancy to be unreasonably reasonable at times. And Action really couldn't be having with Bridget, if only because she was his cousin.
"Aw, whaddaya lot want?" He couldn't help but grumble. Today he had been planning on reclaiming a patch of turf that the Hawks had apparently tried to set up camp in – chicks just didn't feature into the equation. Besides, Action got edgy around the Jet dames, he just didn't know why. He'd never had a lasting relationships with girls, only little flings, nothing to get hot and heavy over – and even then it had always been with a dame outside the group. The knowledge that he'd be discussed and analysed with Graziella, Velma and the others the next day just set his teeth on edge.
Graziella raised an eyebrow. With Riff out of town her persuasive tactics were severely limited; she certainly wasn't going to nag him into submission the way she could with her boyfriend. "Just thought we'd come and say hey, Daddy-O." Her mouth twitched in a smirk. "See how the new job's suitin' ya."
It's wrong to hit girls, Action repeated to himself, it's wrong to hit girls…
"Gee, I'm touched," he drawled back, twitching with frustration. He didn't need to look back to sense the rest of the gang's irritation – 'sides from Ice and Vel, who were about as tight as a couple could get, it could get damn wearing with the chicks surfacing at such an early time. If they came around when there was business planned, you could bet they'd be like limpets when it came time to shake them off. "But we got special business planned today. And I ain't sure you're invited."
"Try me."
Maybe if he just wrung her neck…Riff wouldn't mind that, would he? Would probably be doin' him a favour… "I really don't think so, Graz. You might get your hair messed up."
He didn't even have to look at her to know Graziella was seething. Behind her, he could see Pauline tapping her foot with barely concealed impatience – but then again, that was probably to be expected, given that she and A-Rab had been on a date last week and Action would have bet his last cent that he hadn't called her yet. A-Rab's selfprofessed lady-killer status was still in some doubt within the Gang, but he sure was something else at pissing the dames off.
"Then we'll just sit here."
Behind him, Action was sure he heard a whimper of panic coming from A-Rab's direction. "Oh no you won't." Making a face, Action turned to glare at Bridget as she opened her mouth. Oh terrific. They shared genetics - he knew how this was going to go if he didn't act quick.
"Just 'cos power's gone to your - "
"Shut up."
"But Action - "
"I've seen your baby pictures, alright Didge? I know where they're kept. So shut up." Action was gratified to see colour spreading over his cousin's face before she abruptly closed her mouth.
"Will ya get off your high horse, Action? This store ain't just for you Jets."
Boy, but Graziella could half be annoying. He'd always disliked her – her daft attitude and the way he constantly had to battle her for Riff's attention. Action jammed his hands down into his pockets, hard. "How about this," he retorted coolly, "I say you chicks cut out, and you chicks cut out. I've got the 'new job', remember?"
Graziella's jaw set; and for a moment she glowered at him, before tossing her hair defiantly. "Fine. Not like we wanted to hang here anyway." Snapping her fingers in a smooth imitation of Riff, she gestured for the girls to follow her out, before shooting an amused glance back at Action. "Oh, and enjoy our parting gift," she replied smoothly, before heading out with her head held high.
"Nice," Snowboy chuckled. "Tony and Riff never used to get them out that quick." But Action had already groaned, recognising the shadowy figure of Anybodys in the corner where she'd slunk in after the girls.
"Aw, Christ," he groaned. He didn't have patience to deal with Anybodys today. "Get lost, will ya Anybodys?"
The girl scowled on him, making a point to knock her shoulder roughly into Action's as she moved to the counter. "I gotta right to be in here as much as you do."
"The other chicks went out."
Her jaw tightened. "I ain't one of the chicks." Behind the young girl he could see A-Rab opening his mouth, and made a frantic motion for him to shut up. Anybodys gave him the creeps, but Doc would probably make them pay if anything was broken. "C'mon, Action, what've I gotta do to prove it to ya?"
The look in A-Rab's eyes was too desperate to pass up. He groaned, and then waved his hand indulgently.
"What, that you ain't one of the chicks?" A-Rab's expression was something else to behold; eager and repulsed all at the same time. He'd evidently been working on this one for a while. "Well, why don't you and me go into an alley some place and you give a visual demonstration?"
Action was not by nature a cowardly boy, but nevertheless he slowly covered his eyes as Anybodys turned, slowly, her blue eyes flashing fury and venom all at once. Baby John gave a single titter, and then shrank hastily behind his comic book again.
"You'd better take that back," the girl snarled, her self-control rigid enough to bend horseshoes around. Action could see her veins standing out on ice-pale limbs.
A-Rab spread his hands cockily. He really was going to have to find a lieutenant with a better survival rate when – if – he became leader. "Oh yeah? Make me!"
Remarkably, Anybodys merely turned her nose up at him. Action had to be impressed, even if it was in a detached, exasperated kind of way. He would have clouted A-Rab by now. "I ain't wastin' my time with you," she sneered disdainfully, before turning back to Action. "C'mon Action, tell me! What've I gotta do to prove myself as a real Jet, I'll do anythin'!"
"Well, this evenin' we're all goin' to find the chicks and get laid," A-Rab drawled carelessly, leaning back on his chair before Action could even open his mouth to answer. His eyes were fixed mischeivously on Anybodys, wickedly challenging and unpleasant. "All the Jets. So which dame are you gonna promote?"
"That does it!"
No-one else, Action was sure, had noticed the little glimmer that showed in Anybodys' eyes – but they heard the screech, and A-Rab definitely saw the girl as she launched herself at him, hands grasping the front of his shirt as she shook him. It was a testament to the surprise of the attack that she managed to wrestle him off the chair before he even let out a yelp.
Action rolled his eyes. This had gotta stop. Not only was Anybodys annoying, but having a Jet get beaten up by her was somewhat humiliating. Having wrenched him off his chair, Anybodys was now kneeling on A-Rab's chest and pummelling him pretty severely – that sort of thing got spread around. It didn't matter that his buddy looked as if this was the most hilarious thing to happen to him (not to mention enjoying it a little). Shoving his way through the ring of Jets that were now clustering around the pair and shouting encouragements, he jammed his hands down on his hips. "Oi! Cut it, you two!"
Anybodys glared at him, before twisting her fingers into A-Rab's curly hair and smacking his head down against the floor, as if to indicate just exactly what Action could do with his advice.
"Hey!" As A-Rab, his expression shifting from indulgently amused to pissed off, began to push back, balling his hands into fists and smacking them into her sides, Action kicked him rather curtly. Fuming, he glowered at the wrestling pair, before grabbing Anybodys under the arms. His hand clipped roughly against the back of her skull. "I said; cut it!"
Glaring at him, Anybodys shook herself out of his grip and stalked off to a corner of the room, rubbing her head.
"Boy oh boy oh boy," Doc murmured when he paced back to the counter, taking a resentful swig of soda. "You're making friends like nobody's business today!"
He set his jaw. Jesus, this really was the last thing he needed. "Don't start Doc."
"Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on your gang?"
Biting back a furious retort, Action promptly spun around to let out another furious groan. Where only a few seconds ago there had been A-Rab and Anybodys, there now was Joyboy and Mouthpiece. Brawling like a couple of alleycats; fists, knees, teeth and feet. That wasn't pummelling for amusement – that was vicious. And Action had to swear beneath his breath as he saw, glinting in the harsh light of the candy store, the missing pair of brass knuckles being used to smash repeatedly into Mouthpiece's gut.
-o-
I love Action. He's just too cool...