Author's Note: By an exciting turn of events, I will have internet access over the next few days. So yeah. False alarm, I've got all the time in the world to write. Enjoy, loves.

--Schroe

Cassie sat up. She looked around her room groggily. Regrettably, Racetrack wasn't there with her. That was just a dream. Rubbing her eyes, Cassie remembered the night before; the vaudeville entertainers, talking with Medda, teasing Racetrack and flipping cars. By the time Racetrack delivered Cassie back to Park Avenue, she could almost understand why Spot had run away to live in that world forever. But now she was back. She was back home, again in her normal life, realizing exactly how disgraceful her behavior the previous night was. Cheap vaudeville shows? Rowdy entertainment halls? She had lied to her parents, for the love of God! And worst of all, she'd even permitted Racetrack to give her a kiss good night. More than "permitted" him to do so. She was in the instigator, actually. For the third time in three weeks, Cassie had let Racetrack's charm sweep her right off her feet; she'd gone along with every one of his harebrained ideas, risking being caught by her parents and what had it gotten her? The most fun I've ever had in my life. The defiant voice in her head answered. She stifled the thought quickly, and climbed out of bed, ready to start her safe, obedient, dignified day.

"Now, Cassie, darling," Mrs. Arden was saying an hour later, during brunch. Cassie and her mother were sharing tea and cakes as a midmorning snack, so Althea Arden decided it was a perfect time to lecture her daughter, "The announcement of your engagement to Henry has already reached the ears of most of our neighbors. Mrs. McClellan and I talked it over; this week you two will be seen everywhere together. The more appearances you make as a couple, the better the families look. It's very fashionable to be seen at events and charity balls. And for heaven's sake, Cassie," Mrs. Arden added, "Do try to show a little more affection towards the boy. Every girl on Park Avenue would kill to be in your place; we want to let them know that Henry is well off the market. When I see the two of you together, you're as stiff as a board and so uncomfortable. Relax, dear, enjoy yourself; you're to be married!"

Cassie nodded mutely, barely hearing her mother's words. She was preoccupied with the events of the previous night. She was not as hung up on Racetrack, thinking of his free nature and soft lips (although those thoughts did penetrate every so often) as she was concerned with the entire business. It was a dangerous, silly game that would not only jeopardize her reputation, but that of her family. With a start, Cassie realized who she was turning into. Spot Conlon. If she carried on seeing Racetrack, she would stray down the same path as Spot did. And she couldn't do that. Cassie had never forgiven Spot for running out on his family. The spoiled, selfish boy hadn't even thought about his poor family or how his actions might affect everyone else in his life. Cassie refused to sacrifice her family's honor for a boy she hardly knew. Even the boy who'd given her her first kiss... first several kisses.

Mrs. Arden chattered on, about the wedding, what Cassie would wear that night, what Henry was likely to wear, how handsome Henry was, how charming and dashing. Cassie's heart sunk lower with every word. She tried to remain focused on Henry, and how she would survive the evening with him. But she found she could not stop dwelling on Racetrack, and how she would survive the evening without him.

"Heya, Lunch. How ya doin'?"

Lunch Money looked up to see her absolute least favorite person standing just inside the millenary. Ritz tossed her signature goldilocks and flounced over to the counter where Lunch Money was scribbling a list of figures, hoping the shop was at least breaking even.

"Can I sell ya a hat?" Lunch Money asked flatly. She had reached the point in her day when she wanted to vomit all over the next snooty lady to come in for a hat. Plus of course, she despised Ritz Barkley with every fiber of her being.

"Oh, no," Ritz twittered in an annoyingly high-pitched giggle, "Nuttin' like that. I just wanted ta catch up wit' me old friend Lunch Money."

"Yeah, right," Lunch Money snorted, "Don't try ta kid anyone, Ritz, ya hate me as much as I hate ya. Whaddya want?" She didn't even wait for the answer; she just turned around and started toward the storeroom.

"I wanted ta see how you'se was dealin' wit' the whole Cassie thing." Ritz's words stopped Lunch Money in her tracks. She wheeled around to face Ritz.

"How d'ya know about Cassie?"

"Spot told me, a' course," Ritz lied convincingly.

For a moment, a hurt look flashed across Lunch Money's face. Spot had told Ritz, but not her? "Ya liar. Ya don't know nuttin' about it."

"He didn't tell ya? He didn't tell ya how he knows Cassie?" Ritz grinned malevolently, "...Oh. But I guess I could see why he wouldn't want you ta know."

"What's that s'posed ta mean?" Lunch Money snapped. Ritz had to be lying. Spot wouldn't have told Ritz something he hadn't even told Lunch Money. "Spot doesn't keep secrets from me." She knew that wasn't true, but there was no way she was admitting that to Ritz.

"Shoah. Then tell me, what's the deal between Cassie and Spot?"

"I dunno. Spot said Cassie didn't matter anymore."

"And ya believed that?" Ritz laughed, "Please, Lunch, didja really think Spot was gonna change?"

Lunch Money didn't say anything. For once, the idiot girl was making sense. Lunch Money forced herself not to think about it; she wasn't doing this again. She didn't want to question Spot about this. She wanted to trust him. But there was truth to Ritz's words. Was Spot really giving up his skirt-chasing reputation for her? Yes. She told herself firmly, He loves you, Lunch Money; Ritz is just tryin' ta mess wit'cha head. Ignore her.

"Believe whateveh ya want, Lunch, but I'm tellin ya," Ritz said, drifting toward the doorway, "If ya wanna hang onta Spot, look out fa' that goil. Cassie might be more a' threat than me."

With that, Ritz flounced back out the way she came. Lunch Money groaned and put her head down on the counter. The world would be a much better place if she were the only girl existing in it.

This time, Cassie's mother was keeping a firm eye on her this time. They were in front of important company, and Althea Arden was very concerned with how her daughter would impress the wealthy and dignified. Mrs. Arden and Mrs. McClellan watched their children smugly throughout the evening. Henry and Cassie were constantly seated next to each other, a most picturesque couple. Cassie felt very much like she was on display, but it didn't bother her until the party was seated at Sheepshead. Her other experiences at the tracks were always fun, and rarely tainted by Henry's presence, but tonight Henry's focus was not on the races, or on the dull grown-up conversation. He was focused on her. Henry could not keep his hands away from her. His arm rested around her shoulders, now around her waist. During the horses races, Henry slipped his hand into Cassie's and laced his fingers between hers. She put on a very pleasant facade for her parents and the McClellan's, as if she were rapturously in love with Henry.

"Yeah, yeah, see ya Rigby, Donaldson." Racetrack called to his co-workers as he left the betting counters. His shift was finally over, and he headed toward the front entrance. It was crowded; the last race had just ended, and all the race goers were going home. Racetrack expertly weaving his way through the crowd. He was almost through the doors when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around. Cassie stood just behind him, and had obviously fought her way through the throng to catch up with him.

"Cassie!"

"Racetrack! How are you?" She asked excitedly, hugging him in greeting. So much for her plan to never see him again. She'd glimpsed him in the crowd and couldn't help saying hello. What harm could it do? Racetrack was caught off-guard, but returned the hug happily.

"What? How've I been since las' night?" He laughed.

"Oh, right." Cassie said, realizing she had seen him less than twenty-four hours ago.

"Cassie?"

Cassie whipped around and Racetrack took a hasty step away from Cassie. Henry had appeared next to Cassie, giving Racetrack an unfriendly stare. Despite the terrific amount of crowd noise around them, it felt like dead silence as Racetrack and Cassie both racked their brains for something to say. Something to explain why Henry's fiancée had hugged a scrubby Italian street rat, as if they were old friends.

"Um. Henry, you remember Racetrack?" Cassie asked. Racetrack gave her a look, hoping she would shut up. He doubted Cassie would be very good at lying, given her apparent lack of experience in that area. But Cassie continued: "He was the boy who helped me back to our box a few weeks ago?" She intentionally emphasized the word 'our' to butter him up, which worked; Henry smiled smugly. "Well, I got separated from you in the crowd, and when I saw Racetrack, I thought he might be able to help again."

It wasn't a very good lie, but Cassie was somehow able to carry it off, between the subtle flattery and again with the well-learned damsel-in-distress act. Racetrack was impressed, and made a mental note to teach the girl how to play poker; she'd be a natural. Lunch Money could learn a thing or two from her. Not that Racetrack planned to repeat that to Lunch Money.

Henry cast a cold look on Racetrack. Racetrack didn't so much as twitch.

"Funny that you always seem to be around when my fiancée wanders off." Henry said, not smiling, not taking his eyes off Racetrack. Racetrack just shrugged and tried his best to look innocent, even though his gut had just twisted into a knot. He remembered what he and Spot had overheard in Cassie's tree the other day. This was Henry. The man in front of him was the man who was going to marry Cassie.

"Lucky accident." Racetrack shrugged, remaining expressionless.

"I don't believe in luck." Henry said threateningly.

"Then ya prob'ly shouldn't spend so much time at the tracks." Racetrack quipped before he could stop himself. Cassie gave him a warning look; Henry look affronted, but let Racetrack go. He turned away, more than ready to go home and get away from the creepiness that was Henry.

"I'm just glad you're alright. I hate for you to have to mingle with such common scoundrels." Racetrack glanced back over his shoulder, hearing Henry's words to Cassie. As soon as he did so, he wished bitterly that he hadn't looked. Henry was kissing Cassie. And she certainly wasn't protesting. Racetrack looked on bitterly for only a moment, taking in the kiss. It was sweet, and intense in a classy sophisticated way. It was a parentally acceptable kiss, but it held so much emotion. Racetrack actually thought he felt the air disappear from his lungs. Up to this point, Racetrack hadn't known how much he liked Cassie. Now, seeing her with Henry, he finally understood why Lunch Money had felt so miserable when Spot was still sleeping with Ritz.

Racetrack closed his eyes, absorbing the shock that so many people had warned him about. All his friends had warned him: Lunch Money had warned him, Jack had warned him, Spot had warned him numerous times, and even Medda had put her two cents in. And Medda had phrased it perfectly. Cassie already had her life planned out, and that plan didn't include Racetrack. So Racetrack walked home. He walked quickly. If Cassie didn't care, neither did he.