Chapter Two

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About three Months later

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"C'mon, Amos, it's been a while since you gone down to Molly's with us." Seamus O'Leary gave his co-worker a friendly slap on the shoulder. "Just come along for a beer or two, you don't hafta stay long, mate."

As tempting as the thought of a cool beer was—especially with the sweltering heat and humidity so typical of a mid-August day--with the birth of his first child moving closer and closer, Amos knew where he'd rather be. He shook his head. "Naw, I don't think so, I better get home to Annie."

But Michael Finnegan wasn't one to give up that easily.

"Oh, blarney," he snorted dismissively, "Annie can manage without you for a couple o' hours--that baby of hers ain't due until next month anyways."

Amos raised his finger.

"Ours", he pointed out politely, "it's our baby."

Finnegan rolled his eyes at that.

"Hers, ours, all the same," he grumbled, too tired to argue such minor details after a long, exhausting day of work. "Let me tell you, it's easy to get excited when it's yer first, but you just wait 'til it's number three or five or six—you ain't gonna feel the same then, trust me. You'll be glad if you can get away from it all now an' then."

Amos wasn't sure what to say to that.

"Speak for yourself," he said with a shrug, "I'm goin' home."

Amos' words didn't offend Finnegan. With or without Amos—he was going to have himself a few beers first before having to deal with his wife and kids. Somehow, the alcohol always seemed to make it a little easier. "Well, if you don't wanna come, suit yerself then, I s'pose." He turned to give Seamus a nudge. "Let's go, mate, I need a cool one."

Seamus chuckled at his friend's impatience. He gave Amos another clap on the shoulder, this time in dismissal. "Well, night then," he said, "but if you change your mind…you know where we're at."

Amos acknowledged him, but he had no intentions to reconsider; tonight, nothing could have changed his mind. He was hungry and tired and all he wanted was to go home to a nice meal and Annie.

For a beat, he watched his friends walk down the sidewalk, laughing and carrying on amongst themselves. He scratched his head, still thinking about Finnegan's words. Why did he start a family in the first place if taking care of them seemed such a burden? Amos decided, that no matter how many children he and Annie would have, he'd never feel about them the way Finnegan felt about his own.

He lifted his cap and dragged a forearm across his brow to mop up the beads of perspiration that threatened to run into his eyes. Although it was already a little after six, the August sun was still hovering hot above the horizon. The air was heavy and laden with humidity, drawing the sweat right out of one's skin. Amos replaced the cap and started to walk, eager to get home to Annie and the relative coolness of their railroad flat.

He hadn't walked very far when, suddenly, he heard someone call his name.

Amos' head jerked to where he thought the voice had come from. Surprised, he watched as a slim figure now emerged from the concealing shadows of a nearby doorway.

"Hello, Amos."

He swallowed hard at the sound of the familiar voice. It was a voice that he had hoped never to hear again as long as he lived.

Smiling, the figure continued to walk towards him.

Instinctively, Amos took an uncertain step back. He blinked, still not quite sure whether he wanted to trust his eyes.

"Roxie?!" It came out as nothing more but a surprised croak. He stared at her, completely stunned by her unexpected appearance.

She really hadn't changed much, he couldn't help but notice; her blonde hair was still bobbed short and she still wore more make-up than he thought necessary. She was as beautiful as ever and any other man would have probably found himself instantly attracted to her—but not Amos. Whatever he had once felt for her had died two years ago.

She batted her eyes demurely, giving him what she thought was her most sincere smile. "Well. It's been a long time, Amos." She took a few more steps towards him and then stopped right in front of him, quickly sweeping him with her assessing glance.

On the outside, he really hadn't changed at all. But yet, there was something different about him. Roxy couldn't quite put her finger on it, and it bothered her a little.

"You're lookin' real good, Amos, you haven't changed at all." Her probing blue eyes captured his, oblivious to the clear shock in Amos' eyes. "You know, I've been doin' a lot of thinkin' lately. I know what I did was wrong, really wrong. But I've changed, Amos. I was foolish, but I learned my lesson, really." Roxie raised a hopeful brow. "I'll prove it to you if you give me the chance."

By now, Amos had gotten over the worst of his surprise. If she would have spoken those words two years ago, he probably would have believed her, probably would have begged her to come home with him. But a lot had changed since. He regarded her suspiciously.

"What do you want, Roxy?"

Roxie's brow furrowed ever so slightly at the unexpected, cool response. But she caught herself quickly. She reached out and touched a cool finger to his cheek. It made Amos flinch.

"I wanna come back home, Amos. I miss you an' I want you back."

For a moment, Amos was too stunned to speak.

"Come back home?!" he echoed weakly.

"Yes." She nodded excited. "Just think. Ev'rything could be just like it used to be. You know, just like old times." Before Amos could do anything about it, she had slipped her arms around his neck. Her mouth was almost touching his ear and he could feel her warm, nicotine-laced breath against the side of his face. "I want you back, Amos," she whispered seductively.

Immediately, Amos stiffened.

Just like old times. He felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine. Suddenly, all the pain and heartache that he had thought long forgotten was back, rising to the surface of his mind like a leviathan from the deep. Amos gave another shiver. Her touch was quickly becoming intolerable. He brought his hands up and deftly removed her arms from around his neck, then he took a quick step back, trying to put a, what he thought, more comfortable distance between them.

Roxie stared at him, surprised. For a second, the irritation was plain in her eyes, but then she quickly adopted a sympathetic expression.

"I know you're upset, Amos, " she said, forcing a patient smile, "but we can take it slow, you know…get to know each other all over again—"

But Amos was only half-listening--to him, her eyes were telling an entirely different story. He shook his head, his eyes holding hers coolly, steadily. "No, Roxie." But his hand was nervously running up and down the side of his thigh, betraying the tension that was so evident in every line of his body.

She raised her brows in surprise? Why was he suddenly playing hard to get? She had always been able to get anything she wanted from him. Had the little pushover finally grown a spine? Or was there maybe something else behind his behavior? Roxie wasn't sure what to make of it, but she wasn't ready to give up just yet. She needed a place to stay, needed someone to take care of her, until—well, until she could get back on her feet again. She couldn't help the anger that suddenly flashed in her calculating blue eyes. How had Velma dared throwing her out? She had only slept with Johnny after he had assured her that it was all over between him and Velma. That dirty, little liar—

Roxie blinked and just as quickly as it had flared up, the anger was gone again--only to be replaced by an expression of mild disbelief.

"No?" Her eyes widened, unwilling to believe him. "Oh, come on, you don't mean that—" Her smile was strained as she took a step towards him, her arms outstretched. "Come here, Amos--"

He ignored her beckoning arms, bravely looking her straight in the eye instead.

"Roxie, I'm married."

His words hit her hard, like a fist, burying itself in the pit of her stomach. For a second or so, she stared at him with open astonishment then her mouth twisted.

She laughed. It was a harsh, humorless sound.

"Married, huh?" she scoffed, shooting him a disgusted look. "Well, who's the lucky one? Do I know her?" She paused to eye him speculatively before posing another question. "Let me guess, is it one of Red Sally's little whores?"

When Amos maintained his silence, she figured her suspicions confirmed. She threw her hands up--a rather theatrical gesture, he thought. "Well, I should-a known," she said bitterly, "congratulations, Amos. I hope you two are real happy."

Amos saw no need to correct her false assumptions; if she wanted to believe that he had married one of Red Sally's girls then so be it. He certainly had no desire to tell her about Annie. All he wanted right now was to get away from her as far as possible.

Roxie sensed that their encounter was quickly drawing to a close. For a beat or two, she glared at him, unsure how to proceed. This certainly had not gone as she had expected.

Her expression changed into one of feigned resignation. "Well, I guess that settles that," she said. "But you can't blame a gal for trying, right?" She smiled a small, sad smile, and Amos almost felt sorry for her—but only almost.

He shifted restlessly, more that just a little anxious to get away from her. With a nod, he vaguely indicated the street behind him. "I gotta go, Roxie," he said, clearly eager to end their conversation.

In an instant, Roxie's demeanor darkened.

"Yeah, go!" she spat, not bothering to hide her true feelings anymore, "you go home to your little whore! But I doubt that she's better than me!" How dare he cast her aside just like that? How dare he after she spilled her heart to him, made a goddamn fool of herself?

With a wail of frustrated rage, she suddenly threw herself at him, her fists furiously pummeling his chest. All her anger towards Velma and Johnny and everyone else she thought had wronged her, flashed in her eyes. "You bastard!" she snarled fiercely, punctuating each word by an angry blow of her fists, "You goddamn son of a bitch! You--you disloyal traitor, you!"

Completely caught off guard by her attack, Amos stumbled back a pace or two before he was able to catch himself. The lunch pail in his left hand hit the cobblestone sidewalk with a loud clank as he attempted to grab hold of her flailing fists. Luckily, he was quickly able to subdue her. His big, strong hands kept her wrists in a grip of iron, and all the flailing and kicking she did, was to no avail.

"Let go of me!" she suddenly began to shriek, "Help, police! Help! Help!"

Her screams took Amos completely by surprise. Desperately, he tried to calm her down, but his pleas only seemed to achieve the exact opposite.

Suddenly, he became aware of the sound of hurried footsteps rushing towards him from behind. Someone was angrily shouting at him. But before he could turn, he felt himself being roughly grabbed by the shoulder and spun around. A fist connected painfully with his jaw and sent him staggering backwards. He was forced to let go of Roxie.

"Get your dirty hands off of her, you son of a bitch!" his attacker hissed as he threw another punch. This time, the fist slammed squarely into Amos' face; it grazed his nose, sending blood splattering everywhere.

Dazed and disoriented, Amos shook himself, trying to comprehend what was happening; but before he had the chance to do so, he suddenly felt something hard strike him in the back of the head. In an instant, his surroundings shrank out of focus, and the last thing he remembered was the fading sound of Roxie's voice, floating to his ear like through a quickly thickening haze. "Oh, thank God, you just saved my life, mister!"

Unconscious, he crumpled onto the sidewalk.

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