Body and Soul by InSilva
Disclaimer: just borrowing.
Chapter Twenty-one: Encounter
There wasn't any time. There just wasn't any time. And he was searching and searching and he wished he knew this city better; he should have taken the care to learn this city better; to know the streets and the alleyways and the neighbourhoods and the hotels and the right side of town and most especially the wrong side of town. But wishes were for fairy-tales. And he had to keep looking...
It was a September afternoon. Rusty sat in the orchard in the late summer sunshine and he could hear Annie in the kitchen humming as she baked. Saul had disappeared behind his newspaper and there was a gentle snoring that indicated he was probably no longer actually reading it.
Rusty sipped the homemade lemonade and wafted away an inquisitive wasp. He stared round at the trees and the warmth and the welcome and his mind drifted with the breeze.
July…
…just a few weeks after pain and revelation and it had been Annie's birthday. None of them had felt like celebrating. Subdued. Quiet. Rusty had bought her flowers and Annie had hugged him tightly and lovingly. Saul had produced a deep blue silk scarf and Annie had sighed and smiled happily and tearfully all at the same time and the world had come down to the two of them: Rusty had stepped discreetly out of the room.
August…
…and a week after he'd come back off the Coogan job and even in the aftermath of what he hadn't shared, it had been Saul's birthday. Annie had cooked a wonderful meal and made a wonderful cake and Marty had called round with whisky and they had all sat up and chatted till the small hours. Marty and Annie had teased Saul mercilessly with stories from his past for Rusty's benefit. And even though the stories were known and had been shared a million times before, there was still so much laughter and joy.
And now it was September. And yesterday, Saul had greeted him at breakfast with a wide smile and Annie had brought out bagels and there was pink milkshake and it had taken a second for him to understand.
It had been a year to the day that he had met Saul. A year since he'd stepped into a diner, wretched and trapped and screaming inside at himself, at MacAvoy, at an existence of misery absolute. A year. A year of escape and mistrust and disbelieving joy; learning skills and developing talent in a world he had never thought of; finding a home and a family and being loved and loving in return. Saul and Annie. And he didn't dwell on how or why the amazing and the fantastic had occurred because he didn't have to know those kind of details in order to know how fortunate he was.
Inside the house, the phone rang and Rusty heard Annie stop humming and pad off to answer it. She emerged from the house with a look of consternation on her face that made Rusty sit up straight.
"Saul…" Her voice was puzzled.
The snoring stopped from behind the paper and Saul appeared over the top of the newsprint enquiringly.
"That was Carter. He couldn't hang on and he wants you to call him back. He said to say he hoped you were free next month. He said it like he'd asked you before…"
Saul looked at her and he was just not quite quick enough to hide the truth from either Rusty or Annie.
"Why wouldn't you…" Annie frowned and then her eyes widened and when she spoke there was more than just a little hint of anger in there. "Oh, Saul! Saul Bloom, don't you tell me that I am the reason you've grounded yourself!"
Saul was on his feet and his hands were on Annie's shoulders.
"Annie, I couldn't…I can't…"
"You could and you can and you will," she told him sharply. "You go and do what you're brilliant at. You don't need to-"
"I want to…" And wrapped up in that was anguish and guilt and self-blame for the past.
"Saul…" The anger had died and there was tender understanding and there was permission and encouragement and Saul kissed her forehead and Rusty considered that it was difficult to discreetly step out of an orchard.
"You are a wonderful woman, Annie. That's the first thing I told Rusty about you."
Annie glanced over at Rusty and flushed as he nodded and said, "He did. And he's right."
Carter was pleased to hear from him.
"You enjoyed the summer off? I'm putting together a little expedition at the end of next month and I'd like it if you could join me. Rusty too if he's free."
"We'll be there," Saul promised. "Let me know nearer the time."
"Good. Stevie and Rod are on board. Familiar faces. They'll be glad to see Rusty again."
Saul smiled to himself. He'd had a chat with Carter after the Coogan job and he had swelled with pride as he was told about Rusty's professionalism. "Rusty's a real find".
"Stevie says to tell him there probably won't be any dalliances with houses of ill repute."
The smile dropped like a stone from Saul's face. "What?"
"He didn't tell you?" Carter sounded surprised. "Apparently the mark threw them a curveball at a critical time. Diversion into a brothel. Rusty just took it all in his stride."
Silence.
"Saul...? Saul, are you-"
"Yes, Carter. I'm here." Calm and composed. "Thanks for the invite. Look forward to hearing more."
He hung up and stared at the phone. Rusty was out. When he came back, there would be a conversation.
Lila opened the door, a letter in her hand and blinked at him for a moment and then smiled, slow and sexy.
"You're a sight for sore eyes."
Rusty stepped in to the room and closed the door behind him. "You've got sore eyes? You should take something for them."
The letter drifted to the floor. "I intend to."
"Rusty. Would you come in here a moment."
The smile that was hovering around Rusty's mouth slipped away as he pushed open the door to the lounge and saw Saul sitting in his chair, looking serious.
"Saul…?
"Come and sit down. Please." Gentle and yet not to be argued with.
Frowning slightly, he did so and Saul leaned forward.
"I spoke to Carter. He's got a job lined up. Wants us both along for the ride."
"Right." Well, that sounded…it didn't sound…it…
"He talked a little about the last job."
Oh. Oh… Saul knew. He knew. Not details but he knew what Carter had told him which was what Stevie had told Carter. Saul knew and he wouldn't ask but he'd want to help. Saul would always want to help.
"Rusty…" And he felt the weight of trust and belief.
His eyes dropped down to his hands and he thought about the horror of walking up the steps and into the house of sex for sale.
"I had to, Saul. If I hadn't gone along with it, we might have… Stevie and I needed to make sure that the mark liked us-"
"-and forgot the pair of you," Saul nodded. He reached over and took Rusty's hand and squeezed gently. "Even so…"
And Rusty could see the pain. Saul was imagining and picturing and feeling how he, Rusty, would have felt. How he had felt. And Saul was thinking further…thinking about what he hadn't had to do. Imagining Rusty being trapped and forced, just as he had been before.
He hadn't wanted to talk about it. He hadn't wanted to share but the thought of Saul thinking that things were worse than they were…
"It wasn't-I didn't-there was-" The words fell out of him and he took a deep breath. "I met a girl called Betty Foster."
Annie was chopping vegetables when Saul walked in to the kitchen. He brushed her hair to one side and kissed the back of her neck and wrapped his arms around her.
"I can't make dinner if you do that," she murmured.
"Mmm." Saul sounded as though he was thinking about that one.
Annie sighed and put down the knife and swivelled round in his arms. She pressed a hand up to Saul's cheek.
"What is it?"
Saul was silent for a moment then he said,"We've got the most wonderful young man living with us."
"You only just discovered this fact?"
"No," Saul admitted. "I've thought that for some time. I just wanted to tell you."
"You think I don't know?"
Saul kissed her lightly on the lips.
"Maybe I just wanted to tell you."
After dinner, he sat with Rusty and a pack of cards while Annie busied herself with her needlework and the television in the corner kept them company.
"So I was thinking," Saul began, dealing Rusty four nines and an ace, "that maybe we might have a little run out to Atlantic City at the weekend. Just you and me. What do you say?"
Rusty's smile told Saul that Atlantic City sounded good.
They had adjoining rooms at an anonymous cut-price hotel just outside the centre.
"Not the best," Saul apologised as Rusty tried in vain to get the wardrobe door to shut.
Rusty thought briefly of the streets; of MacAvoy's flat; of the room he'd shared with Marvin.
"It's fine," he assured him and meant it.
They'd had a profitable weekend. Marks and their money proved surprisingly accommodating when it came to being parted. They'd worked together and separately and Rusty had enjoyed himself. The bigger jobs he'd been involved with – Carter's projects – had been exciting enough but there was a kind of serenity working with Saul. Everything he might hope to be.
He was sitting at the bar in the nearly empty lounge of the hotel waiting for Saul to reappear. They'd split up this afternoon for individual cons and they were meeting up again for the evening. The last evening before they headed back to Annie. Rusty nursed the Coca-Cola and busied himself with the potato chips and trying to work out the plot of the film that was showing on the TV behind the bar. The sound was down and it was hard-going. Either the dog was a criminal mastermind or-
In the mirror, he caught sight of Saul walking in through the doors and he half-rose to turn and greet him. But Saul's eyes were on his and they were forbidding him to move, to even acknowledge him. Rusty sank back down to his seat, watching.
Three men, their faces half-hidden beneath upturned jacket collars and hats, followed Saul in. There was muttered discussion and Saul's eyes were still on his, still telling him not to interfere, not to get involved. He didn't need to read the fear and anxiety in Saul: Every instinct in Rusty was screaming at him that something was very wrong. And then Saul's eyes tore away from his and the four of them disappeared up the stairs leaving Rusty and the forgotten chips and Coke.
Saul was warning him to stay away and that could be because he had a con on the go and Rusty might somehow blow it. But bringing the marks back here...? Rusty thought again about Saul's face. Anxious and frightened and part of that was selfworry but the majority of it was directed at Rusty. Saul was scared for Rusty. These men meant business.
He'd never disobeyed Saul. Not even in the early days when he'd been suspicious about motives and had been wondering if he'd made the worst mistake of his life. And there had been three of them towering behind Saul and he wasn't at all certain what he could do about that. If it had been him on his own, he'd have punched hard and run fast and hoped for the best but Saul...
It didn't matter. It was Saul. He needed to move.
Saul's room was by the top of the stairs and Rusty pressed his ear to the door. Low voices and he could hear intent and menace and he couldn't bear it. He didn't know details but there was no way he could hang back. He turned the handle and pushed the door which reluctantly opened once the man blocking it stood aside.
Saul was sat on the bed, pale but unhurt, breathing heavily. The other two men were either side of him, one with his back to Rusty and the other with a fistful of dollars.
"What have we here?" the man with the money said wonderingly. "Let him in, Larry."
Larry gave Rusty no choice in the matter, grabbing his wrist and pulling him into the room. Saul's face grew impossibly paler and his eyes closed briefly.
"You know him, old man? He a friend of yours?" The cash was waved in Saul's face. "You work together?"
"I know him, Finn." The third man said quietly and both Saul and Rusty's heads turned towards him.
Rusty's memory kicked into action and he was running through marks that he'd already hit on this weekend and before and customers at Sam's garage and then, like three bells falling into place on a slot machine, he knew. Thick matted hair covering chest and arms and back. His breath caught in his throat.
"Kid's a hustler. Must have moved cities." The man gave Saul's face a careless little slap. "You dirty fucker." He grabbed Saul's hand with the wedding band. "Playing away from home. Let's hope wifey never finds out."
There was colour now in Saul's cheeks and Rusty could see that rage had overcome fear and then almost in the same instant, Saul changed. He made himself physically smaller and when he spoke, his voice was a whine.
"S'right. Kid's just mad at me because he was such a lousy lay I didn't pay him."
"That true, kid?" Finn was grinning. "You come looking for your money and find a heap of trouble?"
The other man, the man with the fingers that had held him down and had dug into him and hadn't cared, the other man leant in to Saul. "You're just a mean old bastard, aren't you?" He slapped Saul again and Rusty couldn't stand it.
Instinct took over and he pulled free from Larry and launched himself across the room at the man. His fist connected with the man's gut and there was an "oof" of surprise and Saul was half off the bed and then Larry's arms wrapped round him and dragged him away and suddenly the focus of attention was Finn and his hand that held the gun.
"Steady, old man. You too, blondie."
Rusty swallowed and he knew without looking that Saul was frightened beyond words. And that was nothing to do with Saul's own safety.
"You sure about him?" Finn asked, his eyes on Rusty.
The man nodded and crossed to Rusty, running a finger down his cheek and along his bottom lip, pulling it gently.
"I never forget a mouth as talented as yours," he said and Rusty couldn't stop the flush that coloured his cheeks.
Finn looked amused. "Sounds like you got a raw deal, old man. Well, here's what we're going to do. We've got our money back and a little interest. And now we're going to show there's no hard feelings. On your feet."
Saul stood up slowly and he wasn't looking at Rusty.
"You're coming with us, old man."
Rusty let out a noise of dismay and Finn's attention was on him in a second. "Don't worry, blondie." He stuffed a wad of cash in Rusty's jacket pocket. "Here's what's owed you."
"He staying here?" Larry asked and Finn nodded.
"Sleep well, kid." The gun came crashing down on Rusty's temple and as he fell to the ground, he heard Saul let out a cry of fury and anguish.
Saul saw Rusty collapse and he was unable to choke back on the yell and then the gun was flashed in his direction.
"Just a taste of what's to come," promised Finn.
And then he was being bustled out of the room by Finn and Larry and the Other, the one who had laid hands on Rusty, the one who had- with difficulty, Saul pushed the anger down. The blow had looked nasty but it wasn't fatal and Rusty wasn't in immediate danger. He needed to focus.
"See, the thing you have to remember, old man," said Finn, his arm around Saul's shoulders, steering him down the stairs and out on to the street, "is not to try and make mugs out of the wrong sort of people. Because that leads to very painful consequences."
It had been bad luck. He'd done nothing wrong or clumsy but Finn and Larry from the previous night had rounded a corner and spotted him and then the Other had arrived and he'd hoped that they'd be satisfied with the return of their money and a little more. Bad luck. That was all it had been and all it continued to be. A piece of bad luck. Con men ran up against it occasionally and how they dealt with it was a mark of their longevity in the profession.
They walked a little way through the back streets, away from lights and noise and people and deeper into darkness and danger. Eventually, Finn said, "Stop" and a shove of Larry's hand sent Saul falling hard against the alley wall with the trickle of water running down it. Saul felt the grimy bricks against his cheek and he closed his eyes and readied himself.
Standing and waiting and nervous and excited and the adrenaline pumping through him…
"Here we go, old man." And he was spun round and the fist flew into his face…
Turning round and his heart had been in his mouth and walking towards him had been a goddess, an angel, divine and fabulous…
He spat blood and Larry landed a punch in his gut that doubled him over. The Other was waiting with a blow that caught him on the side of his head and another landed, splitting open his lip…
He wanted to cry and to laugh and to marvel and to rejoice all at the same time. The woman that he loved more than anyone or anything he could have ever imagined. A simple dress and white roses and Annie's face, smiling like she would never stop, radiating love and forever…
Bone crunched and pain shot through him and for a moment he couldn't even think about Annie and he forced himself to bury the pain…
He was trembling. Literally trembling. And he felt the emotion welling up inside him, protectiveness and adoration and he would do anything for this woman. He would fall down on his knees in front of this woman. He would walk through fire and across hot coals and into the lion's den for this woman. He didn't matter. Only she mattered.
He was on the ground now and the kicking wouldn't stop, brutal and vicious, connecting with ribs and kidneys, and he tried to make himself as small a target as possible.
"…man and wife. You may kiss the bride."
And he'd swept her tenderly, completely, respectfully, into his arms and he'd kissed her gently, reverently, as if this dream might end and she might disappear back to the world of the fantastic and the unreal…
Annie. Annie. (Blood and bruises covered him). Most precious, most marvellous. (Still the boots bit into him). He would protect, he would keep safe, he would bathe in the warmth of her smile and her love and nothing else mattered.
And as oblivion descended, an inexplicable smile crept painfully on to his face.
Unconsciousness faded away and Rusty sat up and groaned. His head was still swimming madly as if it had been cast adrift in a sea infested with sharks.
Saul.
Rusty's mouth went dry and he ignored his own pain and scrabbled to his feet, running out of the room and the hotel. Inside his head, there was a voice screaming at him that he needed to move, to find Saul, to help, to rescue…and there wasn't any time.
Blindly, he ran along sidewalks and he wasn't even certain where to start looking, where to begin the search and there wasn't any time. Saul didn't have any time. Right now the three men would be hurting him and he needed to find him. Needed to do something.
There wasn't any time. There just wasn't any time. And he was searching and searching and he wished he knew this city better; he should have taken the care to learn this city better; to know the streets and the alleyways and the neighbourhoods and the hotels and the right side of town and most especially the wrong side of town. But wishes were for fairy-tales. And he had to keep looking...
Rusty rounded a corner and he had to stop, his lungs burning and the ache in his side was too much to disregard. He looked at the people flashing past, laughing and giggling and he wanted to scream at them.
He closed his eyes and he tried to stop the runaway images of suffering and to focus. There were no guarantees but the man who had paid for him had been travelling through. "Only here for the night. Pity. You're the best tonic a sales guy could have." It was possible he was passing through Atlantic City too. It was likely that all three men were visitors. In which case, they weren't going to know about the wrong side of town. They were just going to take Saul down the nearest dark alleyway. Close to the hotel. That's where he needed to explore.
Swiftly and methodically, Rusty worked his way back from the hotel. Two sidestreets back, there was an alleyway that looked promising. He pounded down it, past the heap of clothes and the beer bottles and the garbage and then he froze. He retraced his steps and he knelt down in the stale-smelling water that had puddled on the alley floor. Then Rusty turned the heap of clothes over and he found himself staring at Saul's swollen and bloodied features.
Somehow, he'd dragged Saul upright. Somehow, he'd slung Saul's arm over his shoulders and Saul had half-woken without opening his eyes or saying a word and together they had stumbled back to the hotel. Somehow, they'd made it up the stairs and back to Rusty's room and Saul was lying on the bed.
Rusty looked at the mess and wanted to cry. He didn't have a clue where to start. He brought back a wet flannel from the bathroom and dabbed it uselessly at the worst of the blood on Saul's face. The coolness seemed to revive Saul. His eyes flickered and opened, in spite of the swelling and he saw Rusty and the smile was as immediate as the accompanying grimace.
"Rusty…" Saul said softly and then he tried to sit up, to look round to see where the danger lay.
"It's OK," Rusty assured him. "It's OK. We're on our own. We're back at the hotel. It's OK."
Saul's eyes closed. "Phone Marty," he said.
Marty had answered the phone sleepily and then had been wide awake and softly swearing. That had been a while ago and Rusty had spent the time holding Saul's hand as he drifted in and out of consciousness.
He had never felt so relieved to see someone as when he'd answered the door to Marty. As they walked back into the room to Saul, he'd started to explain what had happened and Marty had stopped him and squinted at his own face.
"Looks sore, Rusty, though no skin broken. Here." He opened his bag and handed over a couple of pills. "Take these. They'll help. Now. Let's see to Mr Bloom."
Rusty had done as he was told and then had curled up on the couch as Marty had gone to work, gently stripping Saul's jacket and shirt off and cleaning wounds and forcing pills down Saul. Marty's voice was gentle and soothing and relaxing and Rusty found his head nodding.
When he woke up, Marty was still at Saul's bedside, talking lightly both in volume and tone. Saul was responding, his voice rough but recognisable. Rusty stood up and came over and Saul's face creased into a smile that looked as uncomfortable as it had the last time he'd tried it.
"Nothing permanent," Marty said. "Going to take a few days for the bruising to come out fully and for the swelling to die down." He looked at Saul. "You want me to-"
"No." Firm and definite. "I'll call her."
In spite of Marty's mutterings – and "Quit moaning, Marty, and help me" had had the right result - Saul had struggled to a phone in the hall, Rusty and Marty either side of him.
"Annie," he sighed happily at the sound of her voice. "Annie." There was a pause while dawning realisation and worry shot down the phone at him and then, "I'm alright. I am fine. Marty and Rusty are looking after me. I'm going to be home in a couple of days. And when I am, you'd better have my favourite cake waiting for me. Yes. Yes. That's my girl. I love you, Annie Bloom."
He hung up and leaned back against the wall, sweat covering him and grinned at the two faces of concern staring at him. "OK, Marty. Go pump me full of pain-killers and let me heal."
Days had passed. Saul had gotten better. The angry marks from the beating had faded considerably. They had gone home.
Annie had flown into Saul's arms and embraced him with gentle fierceness and then her gaze had fallen on Rusty and she had run to him and hugged him tightly.
It was mid-October and Annie was on a visit to Lucy. Saul had handed Rusty a whisky and had sat down with him in the lounge. Saul's first words showed Rusty that there was something he hadn't forgotten.
"That man," Saul began and Rusty knew at once whom he meant. "That man," he said again and seemed to be struggling to be articulate. Rusty helped him out.
"Yes," he told him simply and Saul's fingers tightened on the whisky glass and his face creased.
"I don't know his name," Rusty said truthfully, sensing the question that Saul wanted to ask. "I never knew names."
Saul nodded and the pain was still there and then Rusty saw him accept and push away the pain. He nodded again then he opened his eyes and looked levelly at Rusty.
"There's never a good time to discuss it but I'd wanted to tell you about this later. Still. Circumstances..." He drank deeply. "Violence. Always a possibility. Let me share with you how I handle it…"