Chapter Thirteen

"You know I ain't got nobody and I don't want nobody but you…"

The clear, strong voices of a duet hung over the Duckling's crowd; Rapunzel and Stella commanded the attention of nearly everyone in the room. Or, at least, they seemed to. Though they did their best to hide it, the speakeasy's regulars were unusually tense, with one eye on the stage and the other surreptitiously glued to one of the many booths pressed against the walls.

"I'd have my hands full of trouble if I started to double cross you…"

The occupants of the booth, however, were not paying them much mind. Eugene would not have laid any money on the Governor when his friends had gone to meet him earlier that night, but Smith had arrived not two hours before, escorted by Tambor and Hook, looking just as surprised as the rest of the Tagnoski crew. Arceneau had been waiting to welcome him, and wasted no time in getting his old friend comfortable, or, at least, very, very drunk.

"Ain't gonna trifle and I don't wanna trifle, it's true. I know if I start to run around, you'll start to run around too…"

The Doctor and Governor had their arms about each other's shoulders. The former was still sober, but smiling more than usual. Eugene could see it as he followed Moose in from the sewer tunnel, hefting another delivery of booze. The larger man's eyes bulged at the sight of the official, and he mumbled, "I don' like it, Rider. Inviting the big cheese down here, he could have the pigs on us in a flash if he wanted."

Eugene grunted as he pushed his burden onto the bar top, where Elijah began to unpack long-necked bottles of gin. "Don't worry about it," he said, straightening his jacket and dusting off grime that he had somehow picked up along the way. "It's part of the job. And he's had so much to drink, I doubt he'll even remember how he got here tomorrow, much less tell the feds."

"No sir, I ain't got nobody and I don't want nobody but you…"

On stage, Stella and Rapunzel were arm in arm, their performance winding to an end. Eugene knew that it would be impossible to defy the effects of Rapunzel's voice, and he found his own face split into a grin as he left the bar and headed for Arceneau's table.

"I may be friendly, but I ain't got nobody, and I don't want nobody but you!"

Smith put up his hands at Eugene's approach. "There is my new friend," the Governor slurred cheerfully. "But don't worry, son. I forgive you for that little mishap yester-night."

Eugene removed his hat before sliding into the seat across from the other two. "I'm relieved to hear it," he said obligingly, before catching Arceneau's eye. The Doctor gave him a subtle nod of affirmation: as staunch a political figure Smith could be, he was becoming amicable after a few stiff drinks.

The singing duo made their curtseys and traipsed off stage for a well deserved break; they'd been at it almost since Rapunzel had arrived. She was pleased by her own popularity, and was all too eager to sing for people who would appreciate it, and she found herself becoming fast friends with Stella, even if the younger girl's enthusiasm could be a bit overwhelming.

"I told you that you'd be a good back up singer," Stella was saying, sticking fast to Rapunzel's side as they moved between tables and toward the booths. The band had struck up something mellow, and once again, conversation filled the empty space. "Are you coming for Thanksgiving? I could use your help. Not a lot of people come but the ones that do have high expectations."

"High expectations?" Rapunzel asked, puzzled. "I don't know. I've never really celebrated Thanksgiving."

That stopped Stella in her tracks. "Never celebrated Thanksgiving?" She stood in front of Rapunzel, her mouth hanging open in dismayed shock. "How?"

The blonde glanced to the side, made uneasy by the amused chuckles of people who had heard Stella's exclamation. "Well, Mother sometimes went out, but we're not from here, so I suppose she never really-"

"That doesn't matter!" Stella interjected. "Nobody is really from here, but we're here now. I always sing at Thanksgiving dinner. It's tradition. You have to come and sing with me."

Rapunzel found herself making another promise as they continued walking. "Okay. I'll see what I can do…"

Eugene grinned at them both as they came to a halt at his table. The Governor raised his glass. "Spectacular performance, ladies," he said, attempting to appear a little more refined, and receiving a giggle for his efforts. "Who would have suspected such talent was hiding beneath the streets of this wretched neighborhood? I bet you two have more talent in your middle fingers than any of the lounge singers you can find Uptown, let me say…"

Stella shifted uneasily. The girl averted her eyes from the men at the table, looking toward her father at the bar. He was surrounded by the Duckling's patrons, and Stella excused herself quietly. "Daddy needs my help. I'll see you."

With a frown, Rapunzel watched her go before sliding in beside Eugene. He pulled his arm around her waist, but before he could ask, Arceneau pulled the drink from Smith's hand and spoke.

"A lot of my friends are talented, Alfred. But unfortunately for them, they can't find the right place to be appreciated."

Smith watched his drink escape with an expression of abject disappointment. "Is that so?" He inquired, half interested. Eugene and Rapunzel both watched, rapt, knowing that they relied on Arceneau to bring the Tagnoski's plan to fruition. Smith would be their ticket into the Gala, but only if he could somehow be convinced.

"Yes, it is quite a predicament. Take these two, for instance," Arceneau gestured at Eugene and Rapunzel, who straightened in the face of unexpected attention. "Rider's father was a good friend of mine, until he was taken from us, bless his soul. Rider's been forced to rely on the good Christian charity of his neighbors in order to get by."

Eugene did his best to keep a straight face. The Doctor was the person he least expected to conjure such a farce, but a job was a job, and if this was the only way to win over Governor Smith, then so be it.

"It's true," he said, leaning in and hanging his head. "I can only wonder what my mother would think, knowing I was at the mercy of this city. You probably wouldn't quite understand, Governor," he nodded to Smith, who was taking turns listening and reaching for his glass. "Seeing as you live a bit higher on the food chain than the rest of us, but…" He paused for effect. "Isn't that part of what your luck, though? You've got this power, Al, to make things better for the people."

Smith had given up on trying to get his booze back from Arceneau, instead choosing to ponder the table. He looked like he was trying to muddle through what Eugene had said. Raising his chin, his eyes fell on Rapunzel. "What do you think, miss?" He asked slowly. "Do you think he's right?" The Governor grinned and shook his head. "I think you do."

Rapunzel felt bad for lying to this man, for deceiving the Tagnoski about where she had come from, and for disobeying her mother, who she had not seen for nearly a week. Eugene's strong arm around her was all that kept her grounded in the present.

"I do," she answered quietly, but her voice grew stronger as she continued. "I think anyone who is in a position to give something, anything, to make it better for anyone else… I think they ought to be able to do it. No matter what anyone else says. You've been given something good for a reason."

Eugene and Arceneau watched her with heightened brows, and Smith seemed to have been sobered by her little speech. "You sound like you speak from experience, little miss."

Almost immediately, Rapunzel looked out over the room, avoiding the Governor's gaze. She could not very well tell him she had the ability to heal people when she sang a little spell; he wouldn't believe her, or he'd find her a one way ticket to one of the many asylums that dotted Long Island. "Well, I…"

"You've got a gift of your own in that voice of yours. Certainly not something that should be hidden away." Clearing his throat, the Governor accepted his glass back from Arceneau, but did not immediately drink. "You almost remind me of someone, a performing friend of mine. She's got something like you, a little different, probably because she's older, but the same sort of way of singing that makes you forget your troubles. Miss Gothel Morse, I'm sure you've heard of her."

The bottom dropped out of Rapunzel's stomach, and she heard Eugene's breath catch. The Governor rambled on, not noticing. "She's going to be at that Winter Gala, you probably know. The one that was meant for Armistice Day, but was postponed, because, well…" He chortled and elbowed Arceneau conspiratorially, "Can't teach an old dog to stop his old tricks, they always say."

The Doctor coughed. "Do they? I think you made that one up, Alfred. But I'm glad you mentioned that Gala of yours. It's at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, isn't it?"

Smith nodded. "It's all to celebrate this Diamond they brought over from Germany. A very special little rock, though it looks like any other to me."

"Oh, but it isn't," Rapunzel interrupted. "It has the most amazing story behind it, if you just do a little research…"

Holding up his hands, Smith laughed. "Oh, no, please, I'm a man of the present, my dear! Those sorts of things have no interest for me, none at all."

Rapunzel's face fell. She couldn't imagine why some people didn't want to know everything the way she did, but then, Eugene hadn't paid much attention to what she found out about the Diamond either. At least he did not think she was a lunatic for thinking that she and the Diamond-and its convoluted past-were somehow linked.

"I'm planning to attend," Arceneau said lightly. "If it is anything like the previous years, it is supposed to be quite the affair, I should think. You were a little short handed last November."

Smith grimaced. "Was I? I don't quite remember."

"I do," Arceneau assured him. "It was a disaster. But I think I can help you, my dear friend."

"Mmmm?" The Governor had his nose in his glass again, much to the Doctor's chagrin.

"Yes, and you can help out these good people, too. As our lovely lady friend here said," he nodded to Rapunzel, who reddened. "You were given this position for a reason."

Wrinkling his nose, Smith demanded, "Then tell me, Ed, before my hair gets any whiter."

Grinning, Arceneau proposed, "Take on some of these hardworking men to serve at the Gala. They are well mannered, and possibly clean, once they put their minds to it. They could use the work and you could use the manpower."

Smith's forehead creased with thought. "I don't know, Ed. That isn't quite my area of expertise. I'd have to talk to the caterer, and see if they would need any-"

"But it's worth a shot isn't it, old chum? And if you can't find a spot for any of them in there, I'm sure they could work security, or even just dust the china for you."

The Governor's red-nosed ardor seemed to be fading, replaced by a drowsy hesitation. "I'm not sure, but I suppose for old time's sake I will see what I can do."

"That's the spirit."

Smith squinted and shuffled, pulling a pocket watch from his trousers. "Is that the time already?" He rubbed his eyes, as if hoping it would turn back the clock if he shut out the world for a few minutes. "The missus will tan my hide if I'm in later than my curfew."

Arceneau chuckled and stood to allow the Governor out of the booth, but the elected official did not seem to be able to stand on his own. The people of the Duckling covered their grins and looked away, mostly embarrassed and somewhat relieved.

"Oh dear," Smith mumbled.

"Should I call for your driver, Alfred?" Arceneau asked.

"I don't think you should," Smith groaned. "It was your boys who brought me here in the first place."

"Then it will have to be our boys who take you back. Don't worry, they are discreet."

The Governor mumbled and muttered, but relented, allowing Hook and Tambor to take his arms and hoist him out one of the Duckling's many escapes. Arceneau gave them a wink as they left and patted Smith on the back.

"Give Catherine my best, and do call me after you've thought over that offer."

"Will do, Ed. I'll be seeing you around."

Eugene and Rapunzel watched the trio go before turning back to the doctor.

"Well?" Eugene said, wondering if their attempt to fool the Governor had been successful or not. Arceneau looked as satisfied as a fat house cat when he leaned back and lit a cigar.

"He'll call."

The lyrics in the beginning of this chapter are from a song called "I Don't Want Nobody But You," performed by Cliff "Ukulele Ike" Edwards. Edwards also sang a rendition of "I Can't Give You Anything But Love" that reached the top of the charts in 1928. Famous for his jazzed-up versions of pop standards, you might know him better as Pinocchio's well dressed conscience, Jiminy Cricket.

Prior to writing this chapter, I visited Sagamore Hill, where President Theodore Roosevelt raised his family and spent the summers during his presidency. It was like stepping backwards in time; the house is still furnished as it was before his death in 1919, from the portraits on the walls to the bearskin rugs on the floor. It was a neat peek into the life and times of a spectacular figure who is famous for his passion for adventure; the American Museum of Natural History can thank him for many of their African specimens. Though he is no longer living during the Roaring Twenties, he was definitely a man of strong character that influenced the country at the turn of the century.

Alfred 'Al' Smith was an actual Governor of New York, elected on the Democratic ticket in 1922, '24, and '26, who was against Prohibition and made a number of reforms that strengthened worker's compensation, women's pension, and other labor laws that earned him a national reputation as a progressive. He was also the first Catholic to run for President of the United States, but lost soundly to Republican Herbert Hoover.