In his mind, 'Tober knew that what he was about to do was wrong. He'd known that even when Michael Parker put the crumpled bills in his hand. His father had told him, "Women, Jim, are God's gift. They are sacred, special. You always gotta treat them with love and take care of 'em. And if you ever hit a woman, boy, you'll go straight to Hell."
'Tober was brought up to respect the weaker sex. If his father knew what he was going to do, he'd be disowned for sure. But his father was dead, and October Tuesday had grown thin. The newspaper business was failing him, and at sixteen, he weighted a dangerous 98 pounds. Three dollars from Parker would let him live for another month or more, if he watched what he spent.
He could see her now, walking down the street towards him. 'Tober gripped his knife with a sweaty palm. The rememberance of his employment came back to him.
"You ever held anyone captive, 'Tober?" Parker had asked him. What a stupid question. He shook his head in reply. "Well, there's a first time for everything, right?"
"I don't understand," 'Tober truthfully told him.
Michael then pulled the money from his picket. "Tell me, right now, if you'll do a job for me. I'll pay you."
"What's the job?"
"Yes or no, Tuesday."
October eyed the pathetic three dollars. "Yes."
Parker smiled and gave him the money. "Good man, 'Tober. I want you to kidnap Kate Fox."
Woman. "No," 'Tober
said quickly, handing the bills back. "You know I can't do that.
Who…why…but…" He glanced back behind Parker where Higgins (no
relation to the gambler) and Torrez stood. Both boys were staring at
him, and Torrez was cracking his taped knuckles.
"I have to do
this, don't I?"
"Yep."
"You're gonna hurt me if I don't, aren't you?"
Higgins laughed and Parker just shrugged. "I'm not too fond of broken promises, 'Tober."
October Tuesday, like all men, wished to survive, but an empty stomach and a black eye don't get a man many points in the game of life. 'Tober took the money back from Parker. "Explain the job."
So here he was, mere seconds away from grabbing kate and, using the knife to threaten her, taking her to the tavern on third, where Parker and a few other boys would be waiting. Easy as pie.
Kate didn't scream when she saw 'Tober's knife. She didn't cry when he told her where they were going. She simply asked him why.
"You just got unlucky, I guess," 'Tober replied, and they were off
......."You smell nice," Spot told South when he returned to the lodging house.
South smiled. "Mommy dearest wouldn't let me leave the house until I took a bath. She told me you should stop by and take one too."
"She really said that?"
"Yeah. Margaret offered to cut your hair as well."
"And do I get French
lessons from the little one as well?" Spot asked with a
laugh.
"That, and the cook will make you whatever you want, no
joke. The Emanuel household loves you, Conlon." And he wasn't
kidding, either. Spot Conlon was the favorite in South's house, and
his visits were always welcomed warmly and ended with Mr. Emanuel
sneaking the boys some cigars or a bottle or two of good wine.
"Don't tell your mother, Nathan, and you boys enjoy," he would say with a wink. Spot missed the Emanuels in the months that South had been at boarding school, but he had a feeling he'd see them soon.
"Are they coming tomorrow?" Spot asked.
South nodded. "Already sent flowers to his sisters." Spot had completely forgotten about Jen and Helen Cooke, Ethan's older sisters.
"Did you—"
"Yeah, I told
them."
"The truth?"
"The truth stays in here, Spot. Ethan killed himself…at least, that's what everyone else is going to believe for now."
"You don't have to stay on my side," Spot blurted out suddenly. "You've got a family and all, and to tell the truth I really don't want to see you dead. This had nothing to do with you."
"Maybe not before,
but it does now. Spot, I don't give a damn about Brooklyn politics,
but I want justice for Ethan. I don't care what happens as long as
Parker and all of those bastards behind him get what they
deserve."
"So you'll die for this?"
"Yeah."
Spot gave South that
trademark grin. "Let's get some boys together and make plans.
We'll meet after the funeral tomorrow."
"Sure thing. Where?"
"The roof, at midnight. Tell all of Brooklyn that's still loyal that we'll be at war. Tell 'em…well damn, you know what to tell 'em."
South spit in his palm, and Spot did the same. The two boys shook hands. That excitement and bloodlust was beginning to grow in Spot. In a week, he knew Brooklyn's numbers would fall and he'd either be dead or in jail, but he didn't care. Michael Parker would get what he deserved, no matter what the cost was.
Minutes later, a very beaten October Tuesday stumbled into the lodging house. "Spot, you gotta hear this," he mumbled before promptly passing out.