Halloween Morning 1922

Bud Matheson was fucking with the logistics of New York's liquor supply. Well, the parts that mattered anyway. Meyer's right hand automatically reached over to the nightstand, fumbling until he retrieved his first cigarette of the day, slipping directly from the dreamy warmth of sleep to preoccupation with the day's business.

Anything not coming in from Canada had to come in by sea and river into the city. Nothing south of the city could move, thanks to Matheson's little blockade. Well, move through Italian or Jewish connections. The Irish gangs were making money hand over fist.

It was a frustrating thought. It wasn't how he wanted to wake up, but now that he was awake, his mind ran quickly through his memorized to-do lists. Today they'd get on boats on the Harlem docks and go meet the rum runners. Darmody had paid off the warrant officer already. Coast Guard paid the man a buck-fifty a month. The man would make ten times that today, plus pay-offs for his crew. A necessary cost of doing business, Meyer reflected. Better to pay on the front end.

Not only was bringing the boat in close enough to offload the cargo dicey, but hijackers littered the backroads even more thickly than Prohies did. The Prohies and the coppers they could deal with by passing out matchbooks with fifties folded inside instead of matchsticks. The hijackers were a more challenging problem.

Darmody had his uses. He was certainly very familiar with the issues of getting liquor off a boat. Rothstein was sending Harrow. That was good. Always good to have another calm person in the mix. Benny, Harrow, Darmody, he, and Charlie-they could split up between the boats and trucks. Meyer moved everyone around the diagram in his mind.

Next to him, Charlie groaned. Meyer wasn't sure what time it was, because Charlie's drapes were made up of enough fabric to clothe a tenement's worth of people. Not a bit of light was allowed into the bedroom to disturb Charlie's rest. Since Charlie preferred not to rise until eleven, Meyer supposed the drapes were necessary. Today they'd be up before sunlight had a chance to make itself felt.

He sat up and switched on the lamp so he could see his watch. A little after six. Plenty of time yet. Still, he wanted to go over his plans again. Harrow had said he'd walk the kid to school and meet him at the Lower East Side office by eight.

Charlie was sprawled on his back and one arm came up to shield his eyes from the lamplight. Charlie was the most handsome man Meyer had ever seen anyway, but there was something about Charlie sleeping. Partly, Meyer could look his fill without it being awkward. Charlie looked like something out of a painting. When he slept, all his edges and toughness fell away. He looked like the kid who had beaten Meyer up all those years ago.

"Christ's sakes, Mey, turn that fucking light off."

"An early day, my friend. Harrow is going to meet us and Darmody should be with him. We have to gather the men, prepare…"

"I ain't even had coffee. Let's leave the planning talk till after I've taken a piss," Charlie said as he took Meyer's cigarette from his hand.

"Early bird gets the worm, Charlie."

Charlie stretched. He of course slept in the raw. Out of the corner of his eye, Meyer watched the muscles ripple down Charlie's body. The stolen glance wasn't subtle enough.

The grin made it clear Charlie had seen. He stretched again, showily, thrusting his hips up and all but wagging his cock in Meyer's face.

Meyer's dick jumped in response.

"I got a worm. Wanna catch it?"

There was so much preparatory work for big deliveries like todays. Two hundred thousand dollars was on the table. He needed to think through his plans but fuck Charlie's hand was brushing down his shoulder, his fingers tugging at his chest hair. When Charlie tugged hard it sent sparks straight to his dick, which was growing uncomfortably hard. He could stroke it a little to take the edge off, but Charlie, damn him, was licking his lips.

It was Charlie's tongue darting out to lick his lips, leaving them all shiny and soft-looking, that proved Meyer's undoing.

"We've got work," Meyer began, but it wasn't his usual voice. It sounded slightly unsure. Meyer never allowed himself the luxury of sounding unsure.

Charlie smirked at him, sliding one of his legs between Meyer's, rubbing his thigh against Meyer's groin.

"Oddio," Meyer groaned, feeling his left leg beginning to shake.

"We gotta go, Mey, we ain't got time for you to be seeing God this morning," Charlie teased, his leg pressing in more firmly before he started to move away.

Meyer's hand caught his wrist. "Stay," Meyer said, and it was an order and a request and a wish.

"You think you are the only one who can be efficient, don't you?" Charlie said.

Meyer did think this. Efficiency wasn't where Charlie's talents lay. Charlie had him on his back with resounding speed, the warm, moist heat of his mouth closing around Meyer's cock so quickly that his mind struggled to make sense of the sensation. One hand twisted into Charlie's silky curls while the other needed to feel Charlie's skin underneath it.

"Open your eyes," Charlie whispered. As he did, he saw Charlie's hand wrap around his own cock even as he tongued Meyer's. "See. Efficient."

Meyer's head rolled back against the pillow.

Clara woke up to the feeling of a slightly callused fingertip drawing designs on the palm of her hand. "When did you get home?" she asked sleepily.

"Mmm. Late," he answered, and she burrowed in closer to him, even if it was unseasonably warm. She hadn't seen him at all yesterday. They'd been so tired when they returned Sunday they hadn't talked, just fallen into bed.

"And you already awake? You are working too hard." Clara could no longer recall the details of Matheson's appearance. When she thought of him it was in terms of the fear he inspired when she met him, and the fear she felt every time Richard was late getting home.

"It's. Fine. Better than. Farmer's hours," he said.

The apartment was as quiet as the streets outside their windows. For a moment, she could pretend it was just them, that things were fine. He didn't need to know that she'd gone into the shower to cry last night when the feeling that someone was breathing in the walls of their bedroom happened every time she tried to go to bed.

"You know, they tell don't girls the important things to look for when searching for a husband. Dancing ability isn't nearly as important as finding someone who will go find a stuffed cow lost as you went through a corn maze," Clara said, going back to their Sunday night adventure.

Others would think he was groaning, but Clara knew he was chuckling. "Why did he wait. Until we got. To the end. To tell us?"

"Why did he choose to sit on the ground and sob until you came back? These are questions for which there are no answers."

All she wanted was the dreamy softness to continue, but she could tell he wanted to ask her something. Her back tensed even as she tried to keep her breathing even.

"Tell me," Clara finally said.

"Your typewriter. Hasn't been out. In weeks."

"Well, I turned in my latest Ruth Fielding novel. I don't have the outline for the next yet," Clara answered.

"You. Usually. Start something else," he replied.

She did usually move into something else. But since they'd returned from Saratoga-

She could follow the formula for writing Ruth. She was able to tell the mermaid stories again, but just in their familiar form. No longer was she able to blend in little bits from other stories or from their lives to entertain Tommy. But that was all. She'd tried writing a novel for another series, but Mr. Stratemeyer had rejected it. When she'd read the letter she'd never been more ashamed in her life. It had been a physical reaction, she'd felt the heat prickling her scalp as she read the incredibly kind letter, saying he'd been asking her to write too much.

"I should have told you, I suppose, because it will affect our savings. I've just been so busy with...everything," Clara answered, not saying what she'd been busy with. Tommy, of course. Jimmy had been even more useless than normal. Rothstein always had some event for her to attend or some errand to run.

Errands. What a polite way of avoiding saying the truth. She was the best-dressed bag man in all of Manhattan. A man collecting debts would make more money than AR paid her. How well the feminine discount worked for men.

"The gas station," she continued. "We'll need to start looking for a tenant by Thanksgiving. The tanks should go in next week."

"Are you ready. For the party?"

Clara knew he was changing the subject because he didn't know what to say. Neither did she. Now she'd worry all day because he was worried about her.

Her thoughts turned to her day. So lovely, throwing a little Halloween afternoon party for the children from Tommy's school. And their mothers. So lovely if she hadn't done it at Rothstein's command. Still, last year she'd almost forgotten about Halloween altogether and Tommy had ended up in the only costume left in anything close to his size at Woolworth's. This year, after the party, they were all going to have a nice Halloween.

"Is it pirate time or can I come in?" A voice called as their door opened.

"Tommy, you have to wait-"

"Brr! Brr!" Tommy shrieked at the top of his lungs, his arms extending his wings and his little bat hat sliding down his forehead.

"Bats. Don't make noises. We can hear," Richard told him, reaching over to find his mask.

Tommy jumped up on the bed. "BRR! I'm going to have a party! Then you and Clara are going to put on your costumes and take me trick or treating and we can eat dogs from the cart, even though Clara always says no we don't eat on the street."

"Forgive me for having standards," Clara said as she pulled her kimono on, "You know you have to wear your uniform to school."

"Costume?" Richard asked.

"I'm a bat and you and Clara are moon people!"

Clara moved over to the wardrobe and lifted the mesh cape and overdress embroidered with moons that she'd wear over her favorite black dress. "This is mine, and I have a moon headdress to wear with it."

Next, she reached for a gray flannel piece made rather like an apron with a smirking moon appliqued on the front. "This is yours."

"And we got you a moon man mask and you can wear it over your all-day mask or by itself so you'll look like the other daddies!" Tommy announced excitedly.

"Jesus Christ, what's all the ruckus about," Jimmy asked from the door, wearing only trousers and an undershirt. He looked less than fresh.

"Daddy, brr! Brr!" Tommy yelled, spinning around Jimmy in an odd little dance. "Are you going trick or treating too?"

"Clara didn't get me a swell costume like Richard's," Jimmy answered.

Clara smiled brightly even as her fingers turned white as she clenched Richard's costume still in her hand. "Oh, I can arrange a costume, Jimmy! I'll make the time. Certainly, you can go trick or treating."

"I gotta work, Skeezit, but Richard and Clara, they'll take you," Jimmy answered.

Clara didn't miss the fluttering look of disappointment that crossed Tommy's face. Her teeth ground against each other. Keeping her face bright and pleasant was an effort, but she made it. Everything must be okay. She couldn't slip.

"Could you finish getting ready? You always leave the bath a sty, and I want Kaity to get in there as soon as possible."

"Kaity said you've been a beast and I told her no, you were a moon person!"

"Did she now?" Clara said. Well, she'd be dealing with that statement tomorrow! Today she'd have to ignore it out of fear that Kaity would sulk just when Clara needed her at her best.

"I've always thought Clara was a hedgehog," Jimmy said, and more than anything else at that moment, Clara wished to knock the smirk off his face.

Jimmy was up, though. God knows he was out even more than Richard but Clara doubted it was work keeping him gone. Rose spreadeagled across some cheap hotel bed, most likely. Or any other dark-haired girl with a sweet smile Jimmy had come across that day. Him being up this early meant he was going with Richard, which meant they were probably doing something on a larger scale, which meant it was more dangerous...

Clara pushed away the thought as she took Tommy back to his room to get him out of his costume and dressed for school. The morning went by so quickly that before she knew it they were standing by the hall closet.

She'd seen his face when Tommy mentioned the Halloween mask. What was more normal, buying it or not buying it? She'd stood in the basement of Macy's going back and forth about it. If Richard didn't wear a mask every day, what would she do? But how could she answer that when she had never known him like that, how could she imagine him differently when she loved him as he was?

"We don't have to dress up to take Tommy out," she began, and she knew she was speaking too fast but she couldn't stop. "I just thought it would be festive, that we'd all-"

His hands were on either side of her face. "We'll be. Festive. I like. Looking like. Everyone else," he hesitated and Clara fought the need to fill the silence. "I promise. I'll be home. To go with. You."

Clara leaned her face against his. "I know you keep your promises."

Lansky had dispatched each man to oversee one of the five boats they'd use to bring Captain McCoy's treasured cargo to one of the warehouses he and Luciano had rented on the Westside docks. Lansky'd learned from Jimmy's error last year. These warehouses were fireproofed.

Richard drew in a deep breath. The salty tang of the air made him feel at home. Odd since the first time he'd seen the ocean was the day he shipped out for Europe. A miserable ride, he'd been sick half the time. He'd been even sicker on the way back, he reflected, almost able to be amused at the thought. Just not from the sea.

Jimmy and Clara treated boats the way he had grown up treating buggy rides. Commonplace enough, but still a treat. Jimmy had commandeered a fancy wooden speed boat from the Yacht Club to celebrate his birthday, back in 1921. It was from them that he'd learned how to roll with the pitch of a vessel slicing through the waves. Standing on this boat (he'd also noticed he'd drawn the worst boat, a strange old thing pulling a barge to give them more space for the boxes of booze McCoy brought in from Europe), it almost felt like he was back in Atlantic City. Organizing booze runs for Nucky, and then for Jimmy.

Their boats were currently grouped in the shadow of the Statue of Liberty. The promise of liberty provided good cover for their activities. Richard glanced at his wristwatch. McCoy should be here by now. His jaw moved. Delays were never good.

He scanned the horizon. The lack of activity gave him time to think. He tried to think about work at work and home at home. Keeping everything neatly separated in his mind meant he could come home to Clara and Tommy. He had promised.

One of the sections in his mind was devoted to worrying about Clara. Compared to him, Clara was a masterful liar. He'd watched her and Jimmy lie with bright smiles to people's faces. But he knew her.

Finding out the girl from Belgium, finding out she was Clara...It was unexpected. But to him, it was proof they were supposed to be together. It eased his guilt that she was supposed to be with someone whole. If they could find each other in the hell that was the final days of the war and unknowingly find each other again in Chicago then maybe that was supposed to happen.

Maybe she could have overcome her fear that she couldn't trust her own mind if he hadn't told her about Memorial Day. Maybe she could have come to see it the same way. Instead, she was scared and he had to accept he was the reason why.

The one person who never saw him as something from a nightmare now lived in one because of him. It hurt even more to watch her try and hide her fear. Try and fail. And now she wasn't writing.

What he could do was prove to her he was never going to break a promise knowingly again. One day he wouldn't come home. He accepted it. It was the consequence of the life he lived. But he had to try. And he would keep every promise until then.

"What's. Happening," Richard said, ignoring the look of revulsion on the captain's face as he spoke.

"Radio says the Guard is about to board McCoy's ship. Thought your men paid 'em off."

Jimmy had. Somehow their Guardsmen weren't out here. Richard's jaw moved. Surprises were dangerous.

"We better head back in for now."

Rothstein needed this liquor. They'd have to wait around, try to find out what happened the Guardsman Jimmy had paid off. He'd never get back to 57th Street in time to take Tommy trick or treating. He'd promised.

How many times had he been in a tree, but German troops gathering at the wrong spot ruined his ability to take out his targets? But the company he was assigned to, they knew what to do, how to sort it out so he could complete the mission.

Richard pushed aside all other thoughts. A distraction. A good one. His eye scanned the boat, looked over at the other boats of their party, the barge...

The barge.

That son of a bitch Matheson. Had to be. Rothstein had been paying off Admirals, or whatever it was. He and Charlie had sent Jimmy with money from the Pay Me Fund for the captain. It was a good plan. It worked. But now McCoy was about to be boarded. A whole day wasted, and they'd have to go back to the docks, regroup.

Rothstein wanted this liquor though. The micks were pulling to a big a share of the customers, the good customers, the ones AR prized.

The radio crackled. The captain turned towards Meyer. "It's our code. The Polyphemus said get ready to meet McCoy."

He wished he and Charlie were on the same boat. Polyphemus was the boat with Harrow, Meyer thought, carefully weighing the situation. The man barely spoke at all unless he had important information to share. If he was willing to radio...

A decision must be made. Meyer nodded. "Order the other boats to do so. Get me spyglasses."

Meyer trained the binoculars towards Harrow's boat. The crew was pulling the barge towards the rear of the boat, where Harrow stood. The waves were crashing against the boat. Harrow took off his coat and carefully folded it. Then it almost looked like he just stepped off the boat onto the barge. Meyer almost laughed. He'd fall in the damn ocean if he tried that.

Members of the crew were gathering at the back of the boat and passing cans over. Gas! Harrow was going to torch the barge, but why? Meyer lit another cigarette and smoked furiously. Harrow stopped, throwing the cans back to the crew. He was motioning to the crew and Meyer's stomach knotted. Harrow couldn't raise his voice. Somehow the man got the point across. They brought the boat back over close to the barge.

"Polyphemus says get out," the captain told him.

"Make sure the other boats leave first. Then go as fast you can and get us out of here." Meyer answered.

Meyer kept watching. Harrow got back over to the boat. He busied himself doing something with a cardboard box while the crew untied the barge from the boat. Meyer watched. Benny's boat, Jimmy's, Charlie's. All were steaming away. Even as Meyer's boat pulled away he kept watching through the binoculars. The spyglasses let him see Harrow flick a lighter, set the box ablaze, and throw it over to the barge.

For a moment Meyer didn't think the Polyphemus would get away before the barge blew.

"Mayday, Mayday," the ship's radio droned. "This is the Atlantis. Ship ablaze, people in the water, send help..."

Meyer laughed. They'd made quick work of meeting up with McCoy as soon as the Coast Guard sped away to save the mythical passengers on the Atlantis. It was the closest he'd ever seen McCoy to flustered. He'd passed the man a little more extra payment than normal for his trouble.

"You'd think getting to keep the liquor that would have fit on the barge would have been payment enough," Darmody said when they were back on the docks.

Meyer had been calculating the loss of profit the boxes that would have traveled on the barge since Harrow had set it ablaze, but it was less of a loss than losing the entire shipment. Harrow needed a bonus. God knows the man could probably use it, considering the macher bitch he married.

Harrow stepped off the Polymephus and was welcomed by Benny.

"Fuck! The boat just went god damn boom! I'd have done the same if I'd had a barge. Been better if you'd been able to take out some micks, or prohies! Maybe that's what we do. Just start lobbing exploding ships at them. Meyer, what could do is get some real wrecks, and..."

Harrow looked like he'd prefer to be back on the burning barge. "Benny," Meyer said warningly.

"Harrow, that was fucking something. You saved the shipment," Charlie said, slapping Harrow on the back.

Darmody lit a cigarette and said nothing.

The ground crew was ready and they had the trucks loaded in record time. Meyer conversed with Charlie about the route and how they'd proceed.

"Darmody knows how to read a book but he ain't so good at reading people," Charlie said, flicking his ash. Darmody was the only man not to congratulate Harrow on his ploy.

"I'll ride with Darmody in the back," Meyer said in response.

"I'll take Harrow, we'll lead the way."

It wasn't a long drive from the dock to the warehouse, but Meyer watched as Charlie and Harrow ran through a lot of matchbooks paying off beat cops and prohies as they proceeded. As they neared 59th Street Meyer finally took a breath. So close. A straight shot to the warehouse at-

An ungodly sound rang in his ears. It felt like the bones in his ears were being crushed. He opened his mouth out of some instinct. The world in front of him went blinding white before dark gray descended.

He felt Darmody's hand grab him and drag him down the floorboard of the Ford.

"Meyer, get your fucking gun out!" Darmody whispered (why the hell was Darmody whispering?)

And then Darmody was gone. Where the fuck was Darmody? Where was Charlie? Charlie!

Darmody's door opened again. "Meyer! Thank fuck!"

Benny, but Benny looked gray. He was filthy, like the little urchin he had been.

"Charlie?" Meyer croaked out, feeling like he was choking on the smoke.

Benny was quiet. And Benny was still. "There ain't nothing left of the truck behind Charlie and Harrow."

A/N: Thank you for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts!