Chapter 2

"Mai, can you get the refill at the end?"

Mai looked at the far end of the counter where Monk was pointing. How could he tell it was empty from the kitchen window?

Tuft's Diner wasn't large. A repurposed boxcar with an attached section for the kitchen and restroom along the side, Mai could see the twelve counter stools and six booths that made up her new domain from nearly anywhere she stood. But in the week she had been working there, she had yet to learn Monk's seemingly supernatural ability to sense an empty coffee cup.

Picking up the carafe, she gave it a quick shake to determine its contents and hurried down the row, eyeing all of the mugs as she made her way to the end. Two empty and three only half full. Mai set to filling them, asking if anything else was needed as she passed back by.

"Hey doll, where's my rhubarb pie?" one of the men asked as she finished.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'll have it right for you."

It had been a busy night, or at least it seemed that way to Mai. There was an empty seat here or there, but to Mai, the nineteen people felt like a hundred. Head spinning, she found the pie. The knife shook in her hand as she sized up the piece to cut. Mai took a deep breath and bit her lip until her arm learned to behave itself.

"Oh, not that much, not for Frank, he's an asshole," Taka whispered to Mai, wiping her hands on her apron. Taka was less than a year older than Mai, but she had been waitressing at Tufts since Monk opened the place nearly three years ago, when she was sixteen. Taka even boasted that she had taught him some of her mother's pie recipes to help make the place the hit it was now.

Mai moved the knife, slimming the width of the slice.

"Yeah, that's better," Taka said, handing her a small plate once she had finished cutting. "Now, don't take no guff from him when you bring this over."

Mai nodded, taking a deep breath.

"You're doing a great job. You just have to work on being a little more forceful."

"Another cup over here, Taka," one of the men called out.

"Hold your horses, Pat, I'm coming."

A great job? Mai wasn't sure she could agree. Taka seemed to know everyone here; she was practically preparing their orders by the time they had made it to their seats. Mai had started to recognize faces of some of the 'regulars,' but she was still waiting for Monk to realize his mistake and recall his decision to offer her the job.

That was another problem, why had he given her this job? Who was Gene, and why did his opinion hold so much sway with the older man? She couldn't bring herself to ask, she was too worried it would give away just how loose her connection to him truly was. If his word had been what got her the job, admitting she really had no idea who he was was probably not the best way to keep it.

"Here you are," Mai said, placing the pie on the table.

"What, no cream?" he grumbled.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Maybe you make it up to me."

Mai wasn't sure what to say. She just stood there, eyes wide.

"Don't start on her, Frank," Taka said, waving the coffee carafe at him. "I don't wanna kick you out on my last night."

"I wasn't starting nothing."

"Eat your pie." Taka pulled Mai back near the kitchen window.

"Now," Taka started, pouring herself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter, "when it comes to dealing with a lot of these guys, Mai, you have to be firm. You can't let them think they can walk all over you or they will."

Mai nodded again, straightening the line of coffee cups on the counter waiting to be put to use.

"Think you can do that?"

"Yes, I just don't want to be rude." Mai moved a cup up to the front to fill in the space Taka's cup had just emptied. Nineteen mugs, tricky for keeping nice rows.

"Why? They were rude first."

"I suppose…"

"Have a quick cup, it will help get your nerves back. We've nearly made it through the night."

"Yes, only an hour and a half till close," Mai said, pouring herself a cup and fixing the mugs into three neat rows of six. Much better.

"Is it?" Taka's head lifted at the sound of the door opening, the smile falling from her face. "Well, shit."

"What?" Mai asked, looking up from her own mug. She followed Taka's gaze to the booth in the back corner, where a man was hanging his black fedora on the hat rack attached to the seat.

"Why did he have to be first? Couldn't be the other one, just my luck." Taka took a big swig of her coffee.

The man sat down in the seat and now in profile, Mai recognized Gene's dark hair and blue eyes. She had hoped he would be back soon. Mai smiled as she drank from her cup. Taka was right, this did help.

"Oh, I know him," Mai said, finishing a sip.

"You...what?" Taka looked back incredulously.

Mai had an idea. Gene wouldn't bark at her or make her nervous...well, not for the same reasons the others did. If she helped him, maybe she could get a fresh start on the evening.

"I can get the table," Mai said, running quick fingers through her hair and adjusting the pin on her cap.

"Mai, I'm not sure—"

"I can do it. I wanted to thank him anyway."

"Alright then, be my guest," Taka said, stepping out of Mai's way and then whispering, "Good luck."

Mai straightened her apron and walked over to the booth. "Hello, again," she said with a smile, pouring coffee into the mug on the table.

He looked up at her and Mai stared, the smile replaced with confusion. He looked like Gene, but something was off. Though the face looked the same, the smile wasn't there and the cold lack of recognition in his eyes left her frozen in place. Could it be someone else?

His suit was all black, the cut nicer than the one Gene had been wearing the last time she saw him. And she didn't recall him wearing gloves before. Maybe it wasn't him.

He lowered his gaze and Mai nearly jumped out of her skin as she noticed his attention on the now overflowing coffee cup.

"Oh no!" Mai grabbed at the napkin, blocking the flow before it could make it to the edge of the table. She glanced back, hoping to see that smile snap back into place anytime now as he recognized her. "I'm so sorry."

The man didn't reply as Mai mopped at the coffee covered table top. Had she done something to offend him? He was hardly even acknowledging her presence.

"Let me just get you some more napkins," Mai told him, taking the dripping evidence of her latest mistake with her.

"Tea."

Mai turned back. Had he just said something?

"Excuse me?"

"Tea," he repeated a little louder.

Mai blinked. Tea?

He looked at her then back to his mug.

"Hi, Mai!"

Mai jumped, coffee covered napkins falling back on the table and showering them all in splatters.

"Rough night again?" Gene asked, standing next to her with a familiar grin in place.

"Gene. You're you."

"Yes, most days anyway. I see you got the job. Damn, you beat me here again, Noll."

Noll? Mai looked back at the now coffee-speckled face of the other man.

"Mai, you remember my brother, Oliver, from last week?" Gene continued, oblivious to the mess that covered the three of them.

"Oliver?" So, this was his brother. Of course, he had to be, they were identical. She had never met identical twins before. "Oh, thank you," Mai said with a smile, "for your help last week."

Oliver blinked and wiped at the coffee on his face.

"Oh, here, I'm sorry again." Mai pulled her pocket square from her dress and held it out to him. The coffee stains would be hard to get back out, but to be fair, the man had saved her from an attacker. So, she was willing to take the loss of a handkerchief to try to make up for her continued inconveniencing.

Oliver eyed the proffered cloth askance. Mai could feel her gratitude fading. She had said she was sorry, and now he was eyeing her help like it had the flu.

"It's clean, I promise," Mai said, extending it closer. Oliver pulled back a bit, his glare moving from the cloth to her and back again.

"Oh, you don't have to do that, Mai," Gene told her.

"No, really." Mai narrowed her eyes. "I insist."

But Oliver still did not budge.

Gene glanced between the two of them before grabbing the cloth himself. "Thanks!" He slid into the seat across from his brother.

Mai glared at Oliver. Did he find her so offensive that he couldn't accept a simple gesture of goodwill?

"Oh, is that coffee?" Gene asked, taking Oliver's overfull mug in his hands. "Great. Noll, you want some tea, right?"

"Yes, he mentioned that."

Gene choked lightly on his sip of coffee.

"Did he?" Gene smirked at his brother. "Well, I'll have the roast beef, Mai. Noll, did you already tell Mai your order?"

Oliver glared at him, but Gene only sat back in his seat, self-satisfied smirk growing larger.

"Pot pie," Oliver said.

"We don't have a pot pie," Mai told him.

"Yes, you do."

"No, we don't." Mai pulled one of the coffee-speckled menus from the holder by the window and placed it in front of him. "I am afraid you may have us confused with somewhere else. We don't have a pot pie."

Mai stared at Oliver who refused to even look at the menu.

"I always have the pot pie."

"But, there isn't—"

"Good evening, Gene," Taka said with a smile, placing a plate of roast beef on the table in front of him.

"Taka!" Gene beamed.

"And the pie. Careful, it's just from the oven." Taka placed a plate with a small pastry-covered ramekin on it in front of Oliver.

Oliver looked down at his food and then turned back to Mai. He wasn't smirking, but Mai could feel the smugness just rolling off of him.

She clenched the napkins in her fist, a stream of lukewarm coffee splashing against her foot.

"If you need anything else, just let Mai or I know," Taka said, tugging gently on Mai's arm for her to follow her.

"Mai." His voice slid like ice down her back and she bristled.

"Yes?" she asked, forcing a smile as she looked back at him.

"Tea."

She stormed back toward the kitchen, Taka right on her heels. "What is his problem?" Mai seethed, tossing the soggy napkins in the trash. "Ugh, where's the tea?"

"Over here, Mai." Taka held out the tea tin, giving it a little shake.

"And why does he get pot pie? I thought we didn't have a pot pie!" Mai filled the infuser and dropped it in the mug.

"We don't," Taka said with a smirk, obviously amused. "But he asked for one and we weren't about to say no."

"Wow. Really?" First Gene, and now this guy. Just how important were they?

"Hey, Mai," Taka looked at the twins' table before pulling Mai closer to her. "How well do you know those guys?"

Mai looked up from pouring the water, biting her lip. Taka was leaving after today. Maybe if she told her, it wouldn't risk her job as much.

"They're the ones who helped me last week."

"Them?" Taka asked, disbelieving.

"Yes, Gene brought me here after everything. He even spoke to Monk about me getting the job here."

"I can't tell if you're lucky or unlucky…"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't know the details. But…word gets around." Taka looked up, chewing on her lip. Monk was busy in the kitchen and the twins were focused on their meals, but she lowered her voice anyway. "Be careful. Just because Gene looks and acts like Prince Charming doesn't mean he is."

"Hmm." Mai glanced back at him. Gene did like to flirt. A serial heartbreaker, maybe? Taka was probably worried she would be taken in.

"Don't worry, I won't take no guff. Just like you said." Mai smiled at Taka. "Besides, maybe he just feels like he has to make up for the rudeness of his brother."

Taka grinned, but there was a strain to it.

Monk called out an order.

"Just keep your distance, if you can," Taka said, before heading towards the window.

Mai couldn't help but feel the disdain in that statement. She looked over at Gene again who, noticing her glance, sent her another smile, complete with a small wave. Mai smiled back, but from the corner of her eye she could see Taka's face darken. Could Taka be jealous? Gene had been friendly to Taka when she had been at the table, but maybe she was mad that Mai would get just as much attention, being new.

Mai straightened her back. Well, it was Taka's last night, so it wasn't like they would have to fight over them as customers.

Mai grabbed the steeped tea and, removing the infuser, brought it over to the table.

"Here you go, uh," she turned to Gene, "what did you call him? Noll, was it?"

"That's just my nickname for him. He also goes by Jolly Ollie."

Oliver leveled a glare at him, but Gene just smiled all the more.

Mai allowed herself a smirk at his expense. She had a strong feeling this was a common interaction between the two of them. And the sense of normalcy smoothed out any remaining nerves she had.

"I don't think he likes that."

Gene leaned in, covering his mouth with a hand. "I know. He offed the last guy who used it." He gave his eyebrows a wiggle for emphasis.

She giggled. The over exaggeration felt as if it fit the uptight man perfectly.

"I think I will stick with Oliver then," she teased. "Wouldn't want to put myself at risk."

"Risk, you? Never. With those iron mitts of yours? That reminds me, you punch any more unsuspecting victims in dark alleys?"

"Oh, no, I am steering clear of alleys for the moment."

"That's good to hear."

Mai chewed her lip. That reminded her...

"Yeah, I got kinda spooked the other day when I was coming into work. That guy who tried to rob me, I saw him in the alley again. He looked right at me as I walked by."

Gene's eyes went wide.

"But he didn't do anything!" Mai added quickly, hoping to soothe his reaction. "He didn't even come out of the alley."

Gene thought for a moment, his eyes downcast as he took in the information.

"Monk walked me home that night. He said he wanted to get a look at the guy, only he wasn't there when we went by again. But you don't have to worry. I'm fine."

"Well then," Gene had his manufactured smile back on, "all's well that ends well, I guess."

"Yeah, like you said. I can take care of myself."

"I don't doubt it," Gene replied.

Mai smiled and headed back to her duties.


Gene looked back down at his half-eaten dinner, his appetite waning. He glanced up at Oliver who had continued to eat, seemingly unaware of the conversation that had just taken place around him.

Gene opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, and picked up his fork. He was cutting his next bite when he dropped the utensils.

What, Gene? Oliver asked over the link they had shared since before he could remember.

What does she mean she saw him?

Oliver didn't respond and took a sip from his steaming tea.

Noll, I thought you said you would take care of him.

I took care of it, Oliver confirmed, breaking away more of the crust atop his dinner.

Well then, who the hell did that dame see in the alley? Gene returned to cutting his meat, remembering the eyes that littered the room.

She must have been confused.

Gene nodded and they went back to eating in silence. Mai was cute and sweet, but she still seemed to be rather flustered by city living.

"So, do you come here often?" Mai asked when she stopped by to refill Gene's coffee. Her return to their table deepened Oliver's scowl.

"Just once a week," Gene answered, handing her the cup. "It's the only time we really get to see each other these days."

"Oh, you two don't live together?"

"Used to. We used to work together too. But a man's gotta branch out on his own after a while. Can't be minding my brother forever." Gene gave a wink.

Mai smiled and pushed the now full cup back towards him "You must be good friends with Monk, then."

"Eh, I wouldn't say we're close."

"But then why did…"

"Don't you have other customers to attend to?" Oliver muttered, putting another bite in his mouth as he stared her down.

Mai glowered back for a moment before, with one more smile at Gene, heading back towards the kitchen.

What'cha do that for? Gene said. You didn't have to be so mean.

You talk too much.

Gene pushed his finished plate away and leaned back in his seat, his mug clutched in his fingers.

Aww, come on, who's she gonna talk to? I like her.

That much is obvious, even to me.

Gene's amusement fell from his face. I can't help it if I'm a friendly fella.

Oliver stared at him. Gene could feel the disapproval rolling off his brother.

We can't all be the perfect picture of a button man. Gene crossed his arms over his chest and looked out the window.

It was starting to rain, the light of the lamps reflecting off the slick ground and walls of the buildings. The street was mostly empty this time of night, respectable folk long since gone home to their beds. One last fella was making his way down the street, a hand to his hat as he stuck close to the cover of the awnings.

In the reflection, Gene could see Oliver had returned to his food. His fork moving up and down, chin bobbing in the same slow rhythm Gene had watched countless times. Like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed. And here they were a month later and they still hadn't talked about it. All Oliver seemed able to do was chew. And Gene found himself looking for anything to keep from bringing it up.

It was infuriating.

Gene glared at the reflection, but its pace didn't falter. Did he expect Gene to forgive him? Because he wouldn't, couldn't. And he wasn't looking to be forgiven either. So if Oliver thought he was gonna beg or grovel, he had another thing coming.

A car moved past, its headlights dispelling the reflection. In the dark, Gene could see the man outside slide further back into the alley, edging away from the spill of the headlights.

Gene sighed. "What is that Maroon doing?"

Yasuhara had his hat pulled low, but Gene had already come to recognize his uneasy stance. And the three step shuffle Yasuhara was playing with the edge of the light was making him even more noticable.

I gotta go. Gene slid from the seat and took his hat from the peg.

Oliver took a sip of his tea.

Well, I guess I'll be seein' ya next week. Gene chewed his lip. What happened when nothing came of these sham dinners? How long before Cogliano wanted to use him for more? What then? When did he lose this too?

Noll—

Next week. Oliver looked up at him. I'll see you next week, Gene.

Gene nodded and donned his cap, forcing a smile and a wave to Mai as he made his way out of the door. She reciprocated, and for a moment, his smile was real.

But it didn't last. Yasuhara was still waiting in the shadows, awkwardly stepping further into the gloom as Gene stepped onto the street. Gene shook his head and pulled the flask from his pocket.


Mai lowered her hand and wrapped it around the coffee carafe as the sounds of the bell faded.

She had noticed the lack of pleasantries exchanged by the brothers as Gene had left. In fact, she had noticed a distinct lack of words in general. It seemed like every time she looked at the table, they were locked in silence. Gene might smile, and once or twice she had caught Oliver's head bob, but they kept their eyes on their food or the rest of the room. Mai even had to duck behind the pie case once, worried that Oliver had caught her watching them.

It didn't make any sense. If they only met once a week, shouldn't they be catching up? They were family. It bothered her. But she couldn't put a finger on why.

Mai pushed out her brightest smile as she brought Oliver the bill.

"First to arrive and last to leave, I think there's a proverb in that," she tried.

Oliver took out his cigarette case.

"By the way, what did you do with that guy? In the alley? Did you turn him into the police?"

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Oliver breathed out some smoke. "You ask too many questions."

"Excuse me for being curious."

He gave her a stern look. "Curiosity killed the cat."

She smirked. "But satisfaction brought it back."

He frowned, left some money on the table, and grabbed his hat on the way out.

"Hey," Mai started, but he didn't look back.

He hadn't even looked at the check. She didn't need to get in trouble because some jerk shortchanged her. But a glance down at the three dollars on the table clamped her mouth shut. That was more than a dollar tip. That was an hour's tips in one sitting. A good hour.

Of course, she wasn't about to complain. But it was unexpected, to say the least. If it was Gene, she could understand. But Oliver? She'd thought they had gotten off on entirely the wrong foot.

Mai tucked the money into her pocket and cleared the table, shaking her head.


Gene hadn't said anything to Yasuhara as he had passed him by, but he could hear him following as they made their way through the streets. And a glance in a darkened window showed Yasuhara not even a block away, still foolishly scampering from shadow to shadow. Gene's step faltered as he noticed his own reflection in that same window.

It was the scowl. Even he was surprised to see it on his face, and in that split second, he had thought he was walking with Oliver again. He brought a hand to his hat to ground himself, watching the mirror do the same. His fingers ran over the damp but familiar fabric.

With a grunt, Gene moved away from the window, taking a sip every few steps as he made his way back towards the apartment. He knew the way by now, and he wasn't even leaving late. Yasuhara had no excuse to have followed him this time. Other than the fact that he didn't trust him. Part of Gene understood that, but a bigger, angrier part wanted to do something about it.

He walked a few streets more, then picked up his pace. Moving around the next corner, he slid into the hollow next to a fence and listened. The sound of hurried steps quickly confirmed that Yasuhara had not seen him slip away.

As he watched Yasuhara hurry past, Gene considered walking back to the apartment on his own, leaving the aggravating accountant to worry over losing him for as long as he could.

But, that didn't quite scratch the itch. This guy hardly talked to him, he was no company at all, and he wouldn't even trust him to come back? He stepped out of the darkness, his steps falling in line with the light pattering of the rain.

Yasuhara was pacing at the end of the street, unable to decide which direction was the best to continue down. Gene made no move to conceal himself; he just strode up the street. But Yasuhara still jumped almost a foot in the air when he called out, "I told you, I don't need no escort."

Yasuhara floundered for a moment, his back straightening. "I-I thought you might want the company?" Even he looked like he didn't believe it.

Gene took a step forward, Yasuhara mirroring him with a step backward.

"Look, I only get this one night. I don't go out any other time. Just like you and your boss tell me. To the diner and back. Nothin' else. I ain't gotta listen, but I do."

Gene took another step closer and Yasuhara brought his hands up, empty and palms out. "I know. I just...it's my job."

"I'm not sure you do," Gene said, closing the gap between them and bringing a finger to Yasuhara's chest. Yasuhara swallowed, but he didn't back up again.

"Swear ta God, if I wanted to leave," Gene pressed harder, "you really think a fella like you is gonna stop me?"

Yasuhara's face darkened, water dripping from the brim of his hat as he met Gene's gaze for the first time. "I'll do what I gotta." Yasuhara balled his fists at his sides, but Gene could tell by the tension in his shoulders that it was a fight to keep them there.

Gene smiled. He had never seen Yasuhara push back on anyone. It was thrilling. Gene found himself wondering how much more there was hidden beneath the mild exterior.

"I'm not losing my job," Yasuhara said. "Or my life, because you decide to skip out. I have responsibilities and I will do whatever I have to do to uphold them."

"Responsibilities?" Gene scoffed. "You got your fancy job and your fancy place, all because you sit at some desk all day and make papers say what a mobster wants them to say. You got responsibilities?" His finger bounced against Yasuhara's coat with the question. "I had those, and you know what the fuck they got me?"

Yasuhara didn't answer.

"Nothin'. I ain't got nothing. Except this. So you tell me why I would run off on ya? Where the fuck else am I gonna go?"

Gene blinked away the water that was hitting his upturned face and searched for the quiet anger in the other man's eyes, but it was gone, replaced with a look of recognition.

"I'm sorry," Yasuhara said, averting his eyes.

"Sorry?" Gene scowled. That wasn't right. The man was supposed to fight back, not back off. "Whaddaya mean sorry? You—" Gene pushed Yasuhara back with a shove. "You best stick to your numbers pally, because you're shit at street work."

Gene pulled his collar higher with a shrug of his shoulders and started down the street. He could hear Yasuhara's footsteps continue to follow, but quieter this time, further away.

A few blocks later, the rain ran itself out. The damp left the summer night with a mild haze that rolled up from beneath their feet. The sound of a horn rolled through the mist and Gene stopped.

The jazz was muffled, but not the secret sounds of a speakeasy. A small group must have been practicing in one of the apartments nearby. He scanned the upper floors, his eyes stopping on a lit window. The bright cry of the trumpet jumped excitedly over the steady thrum of the bass and drums. The heady hum of a clarinet wove through it all, trying, but failing to bring it all together.

"They aren't so bad." Yasuhara's voice was quiet. "But the horn is trying too hard."

"He's probably the newest member. He's still got to learn the flow of the band."

"He's good," Yasuhara said, stepping up beside him. "I'm sure he'll get the hang of it. Just so long as everyone gives him some time."

"I used to listen to stuff like this every night." Gene closed his eyes, letting the music wash over him. "Our place was connected to a speakeasy by this tunnel. We helped them keep the stock." He smirked. "I used to sneak down to listen to the bands that came through. Eventually they stopped tossing me back up the stairs."

Yasuhara looked over at him, an eyebrow raised.

"I was ten," Gene chuckled.

"Ten? Damn, I thought I was up to no good sneaking to one at sixteen."

Gene looked back. "You...you used to sneak out to a speak? But you're a..." The smug amusement that had formed at Gene's question began to fall from Yasuhara's face. "...An abercrombie. I thought breaking rules physically wounded a guy like you."

"As you said earlier, I work for a mobster. I feel like I should be afforded some level of moral flexibility," Yasuhara said, his tone claiming offence but the newly sprouted smile on his face labeling it a farce.

Gene considered this for a moment, and then nodded with a smile of his own. "Fair, Abercrombie, fair." He clapped Yasuhara on the back, causing him to jump from the contact. "Let's get the fuck out of this weather though, what do you say?"

"Sure thing, Cheshire."

Gene's back stiffened at the name, but he shrugged it away.

They started down the street again, walking side by side.


A/N December 2018: If this isn't your first time reading this chapter you may have noticed that the ending is a bit different this time around. We wanted to make sure that we were giving both halves of this story their fair shake so we wanted to add in a bit more about what life is like for Gene and Yasuhara so we know where all four of our protagonists are starting from.

A/N Oct 2017

Tiffo here this time,

Thank you to everyone who had read the story thus far. It's so great to hear that you enjoyed the first chapter. Of course, first I want to offer up our thanks to all our reviewers; soulsborne123, beegene, Samantha-Girl Scout, daughterXofXdarkness, snavej, laundrygirl55, FrenchCirce, Ikw, and orangestorange.

Ummm, what should I say? Sakura had a nice story about how we came up with this idea. I guess I could give my side of things. I have long been interested in organized crime and its hayday in the 20/30s. I was a criminal justice minor in college because of it and even had aspirations of working for the FBI for a while. So when I found out someone else was interested in writing a story in that time period I was ecstatic. Finally my hours of film noir watching and Jazz listening could have a home in my writing. :)

Is it too much of a tease of me to say that I am excited for the next chapter as we are finally getting to the dark parts. :/ We have a lot mapped out for you guys so I hope you will be willing to wait on us and stick around as we move forward.