§ § § §
The Duke drummed his fingers impatiently on Zidler's television set as he waited for the older man to come to some sort of decision regarding Satine. They had been discussing her role in the merge for a better part of the night and the Duke had begun to grow impatient.
"I need something that binds Satine to me," he murmured, still tapping his fingers. "Something that lets everyone know she belongs with me and lets 'em know that if they get in the way, they'll be dead."
Zidler nodded. "You have my word, ain't that enough?"
The Duke rolled his eyes and laughed, a giant, fake laugh. "Your word? You think if I thought your word was any good I'd be agreeing to this deal? I don't want any more of my guys dead and your word just ain't good enough Zidler." He made a great show of looking pained. "My guys are gonna be safe on yours streets and once they are, you'll have nothing to worry about. The gang'll get along just fine and everyone will live happily ever after. Especially me."
Zidler swallowed and nodded again. "I get it, I understand. But what I don't get is what you want me to do about Satine. I can only control her so much but she wants this truce as much as I do. She wants outta Brooklyn and you can help her with that."
The Duke slowly considered this, then drew a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I can help her with that, can't I?" He turned away and stared out the window into the deep night. It was quiet in the neighbourhood, something they hadn't seen for months. The Duke liked it, in some strange way he found the silence peaceful. He'd only agreed to this truce with the Deuces because once they had their trust, the Cobras could completely take over the neighbourhood and wipe them out without a war, but somehow the silence appealed to him.
"Satine is only gonna see me," the Duke proclaimed suddenly. "She won't be dating anyone else, especially anyone from the Deuces." He smiled, a thin, sickening smile that nearly drew a shudder from Zidler. "She'll be mine or I'll have my right hand man, Warner take out your entire gang."
Warner stepped forward at the sound of his name and smiled at Zidler. Then he pushed back the side of his leather jacket to show the butt of a gun resting snugly in the waist of his jeans.
"I don't like it when guys betray my boss," Warner said, his smile vanishing. "Ya got that?"
Zidler nodded. "I got it." He turned to the Duke. "I'll make sure that Satine doesn't date anyone else."
The Duke smiled again. "Good. Remember what I said; the entire gang will die. And after I'm done with them, we'll go after the rest of the neighbourhood." It was something the Duke had planned on doing anyway, but Zidler didn't know that and it worked perfectly as a threat to keep Satine by his side. Soon enough he'd had everything he'd ever wanted; Satine, the Deuces territory, all the junk customers he'd ever wanted and every night he'd be able to spit on the graves of Ray and his disgusting cronies.
"We understand each other then?" Warner asked, glaring hard at Zidler.
"Understood," Zidler said.
"Good," the Duke said, then crushed his cigarette on top of Zidler's television and walked toward the door, motioning Warner to follow him. They walked down the front steps without bothering to close the door behind them and disappeared into the dark and quiet night.
"Oh, my dear Satine," Zidler moaned, collapsing onto his couch. "I am so sorry I involved you in this. So very sorry."
§ § § §
Satine and Chris managed to find endless excuses to be together, especially after Zidler had thrown them into working together that night that the Duke had been introduced to Chris. Night after glorious night was spent in Chris' apartment, the lovers lying in each other arms, both finding new worlds they had never even imagined. Satine had shunned the idea of love for the longest time, for men had come and gone and love only brought her heartache, but being with Chris was different. Everything she experienced with Chris was like experiencing it for the first time. She had learned at an early age to use her body and sex to her advantage, so never before had she felt so shy in bed, never before had she actually enjoyed sex.
Chris, on the other hand, was more naive than Satine had ever imagined. Where she was shy, he was three times as bad, refusing to even let her see his body until they'd already made love for an entire week. The lights were always off and Chris was always under the covers on his bed. Satine had teased him about it until he had finally let her see.
His broad shoulders were marked with scars, the raised skin marring the otherwise smooth surface.
"Punishment for being so unrealistic," Chris whispered as Satine gently ran her hands over the offending marks. "I was never strong enough, never perfect enough for him." Grief shook his body, but when Satine leaned into him to hug him to her, Chris shook her off slightly. "No one has ever seen them before. No one."
Satine didn't speak, she just kissed him and wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. Never had she dreamed that Chris' life might have been just as hard as her own. She had never imagined that other people around her suffered to the same extent that she did.
"We'll run away together," she whispered the promise one night. "After Harold has his truce and the Duke has finally been brought down we'll get out of Brooklyn forever."
Chris smiled gently. "I'd like that."
"We'll run away to Paris, live in a little village," Satine said, getting into her fantasy. "Do you know any small Parisian villages?"
"Montmartre?" Chris suggested, screwing up his face slightly.
Satine smiled and fell back on the pillow. "Montmartre . . . it's perfect. We'll live there in obscurity, happily wasting away our lives with the arts. Singing, dancing, the theatre. We'll spend every day in perfect happiness and do you know why?"
Chris grinned. "Why?"
"Because we are in love."
He snuggled against her. "That's my line."
Satine giggled. "Well, I had to get it from somewhere."
"I like that world you just created," Chris murmured into her shoulder. "I wish we could live there already."
"I have to help Harold," Satine said sadly. "You know I do. And I have to pretend that I love the Duke."
"I know," Chris whispered.
The topic ended there, they had made a vow not to speak of the Duke and the truce unless they absolutely had to. They lay in silence for a long time before Chris propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at Satine.
"What?" she finally asked.
"Are you happy?"
Satine frowned. "What do you mean?"
"With me," Chris said. "Are you happy with me?"
The frown on Satine's face softened and she raised one hand to gently touch Chris' brow. "You know that I am."
"I read a play once," Chris began, "it was written in Paris . . . I think that's where I got the village of Montmartre from. It was written by a young, English writer and the one line that I'll always remember is, 'The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return'. It's a nice thought, isn't it?"
"It's beautiful," Satine breathed. "And it's true."
Chris smiled and leaned toward her for a kiss.
§ § § §
The Duke drummed his fingers impatiently on Zidler's television set as he waited for the older man to come to some sort of decision regarding Satine. They had been discussing her role in the merge for a better part of the night and the Duke had begun to grow impatient.
"I need something that binds Satine to me," he murmured, still tapping his fingers. "Something that lets everyone know she belongs with me and lets 'em know that if they get in the way, they'll be dead."
Zidler nodded. "You have my word, ain't that enough?"
The Duke rolled his eyes and laughed, a giant, fake laugh. "Your word? You think if I thought your word was any good I'd be agreeing to this deal? I don't want any more of my guys dead and your word just ain't good enough Zidler." He made a great show of looking pained. "My guys are gonna be safe on yours streets and once they are, you'll have nothing to worry about. The gang'll get along just fine and everyone will live happily ever after. Especially me."
Zidler swallowed and nodded again. "I get it, I understand. But what I don't get is what you want me to do about Satine. I can only control her so much but she wants this truce as much as I do. She wants outta Brooklyn and you can help her with that."
The Duke slowly considered this, then drew a cigarette out of his pocket and lit it. "Yes," he murmured. "Yes, I can help her with that, can't I?" He turned away and stared out the window into the deep night. It was quiet in the neighbourhood, something they hadn't seen for months. The Duke liked it, in some strange way he found the silence peaceful. He'd only agreed to this truce with the Deuces because once they had their trust, the Cobras could completely take over the neighbourhood and wipe them out without a war, but somehow the silence appealed to him.
"Satine is only gonna see me," the Duke proclaimed suddenly. "She won't be dating anyone else, especially anyone from the Deuces." He smiled, a thin, sickening smile that nearly drew a shudder from Zidler. "She'll be mine or I'll have my right hand man, Warner take out your entire gang."
Warner stepped forward at the sound of his name and smiled at Zidler. Then he pushed back the side of his leather jacket to show the butt of a gun resting snugly in the waist of his jeans.
"I don't like it when guys betray my boss," Warner said, his smile vanishing. "Ya got that?"
Zidler nodded. "I got it." He turned to the Duke. "I'll make sure that Satine doesn't date anyone else."
The Duke smiled again. "Good. Remember what I said; the entire gang will die. And after I'm done with them, we'll go after the rest of the neighbourhood." It was something the Duke had planned on doing anyway, but Zidler didn't know that and it worked perfectly as a threat to keep Satine by his side. Soon enough he'd had everything he'd ever wanted; Satine, the Deuces territory, all the junk customers he'd ever wanted and every night he'd be able to spit on the graves of Ray and his disgusting cronies.
"We understand each other then?" Warner asked, glaring hard at Zidler.
"Understood," Zidler said.
"Good," the Duke said, then crushed his cigarette on top of Zidler's television and walked toward the door, motioning Warner to follow him. They walked down the front steps without bothering to close the door behind them and disappeared into the dark and quiet night.
"Oh, my dear Satine," Zidler moaned, collapsing onto his couch. "I am so sorry I involved you in this. So very sorry."
§ § § §
Satine and Chris managed to find endless excuses to be together, especially after Zidler had thrown them into working together that night that the Duke had been introduced to Chris. Night after glorious night was spent in Chris' apartment, the lovers lying in each other arms, both finding new worlds they had never even imagined. Satine had shunned the idea of love for the longest time, for men had come and gone and love only brought her heartache, but being with Chris was different. Everything she experienced with Chris was like experiencing it for the first time. She had learned at an early age to use her body and sex to her advantage, so never before had she felt so shy in bed, never before had she actually enjoyed sex.
Chris, on the other hand, was more naive than Satine had ever imagined. Where she was shy, he was three times as bad, refusing to even let her see his body until they'd already made love for an entire week. The lights were always off and Chris was always under the covers on his bed. Satine had teased him about it until he had finally let her see.
His broad shoulders were marked with scars, the raised skin marring the otherwise smooth surface.
"Punishment for being so unrealistic," Chris whispered as Satine gently ran her hands over the offending marks. "I was never strong enough, never perfect enough for him." Grief shook his body, but when Satine leaned into him to hug him to her, Chris shook her off slightly. "No one has ever seen them before. No one."
Satine didn't speak, she just kissed him and wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. Never had she dreamed that Chris' life might have been just as hard as her own. She had never imagined that other people around her suffered to the same extent that she did.
"We'll run away together," she whispered the promise one night. "After Harold has his truce and the Duke has finally been brought down we'll get out of Brooklyn forever."
Chris smiled gently. "I'd like that."
"We'll run away to Paris, live in a little village," Satine said, getting into her fantasy. "Do you know any small Parisian villages?"
"Montmartre?" Chris suggested, screwing up his face slightly.
Satine smiled and fell back on the pillow. "Montmartre . . . it's perfect. We'll live there in obscurity, happily wasting away our lives with the arts. Singing, dancing, the theatre. We'll spend every day in perfect happiness and do you know why?"
Chris grinned. "Why?"
"Because we are in love."
He snuggled against her. "That's my line."
Satine giggled. "Well, I had to get it from somewhere."
"I like that world you just created," Chris murmured into her shoulder. "I wish we could live there already."
"I have to help Harold," Satine said sadly. "You know I do. And I have to pretend that I love the Duke."
"I know," Chris whispered.
The topic ended there, they had made a vow not to speak of the Duke and the truce unless they absolutely had to. They lay in silence for a long time before Chris propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at Satine.
"What?" she finally asked.
"Are you happy?"
Satine frowned. "What do you mean?"
"With me," Chris said. "Are you happy with me?"
The frown on Satine's face softened and she raised one hand to gently touch Chris' brow. "You know that I am."
"I read a play once," Chris began, "it was written in Paris . . . I think that's where I got the village of Montmartre from. It was written by a young, English writer and the one line that I'll always remember is, 'The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return'. It's a nice thought, isn't it?"
"It's beautiful," Satine breathed. "And it's true."
Chris smiled and leaned toward her for a kiss.
§ § § §