Asshole, Gabby thought while looking at her reflection. I can't believe he's making me wear this. She looked down at her chest that was practically oozing out of the plunging neckline. Of all times to grow breasts…The red, satin dress covered in black lace hugged her corset tightly without giving much room to breathe. She pushed her boobs further down into the whore's clothing and sighed; she certainly felt like Tyce's whore.
"'Don't sleep with him, blah, blah, blah'," Gabby mocked to herself. Tyce's way of thinking was never really something she could understand clearly; it was complex and extremely unique (and not in the good way). If one were to even try to comprehend his wavelength, no doubt they would have to tread carefully. Hell, they would need something for mental protection.
Gabby turned around, glancing at the intricately stitched back, and brushed her fingers over the beaded straps that fell off the shoulder; under any other circumstances, the dress was very pretty. The uncomfortably tight garters pinched her legs and fed into the black stockings. With a sigh, she adjusted her hair that she had curled into ringlets pined into a low ponytail behind her ear. With a few quick smears of dark makeup over her eyes, she was done.
"I should do it just to spite him," Gabby said on the topic of sleeping with Spot. She cocked her head to the side and pondered. A thought then came to her mind: Perhaps love for all the right reasons should not be ruled out either.
For some reason unbeknownst to Spot, he had a feeling that this evening was going to be different. As he paced up the steps to Gabby's front door, he could not shake this feeling of uncertainty and exhilaration at the same time. Perhaps it was the hype of the party that had been built up that was causing nervous butterflies to form in his stomach; maybe it was the upcoming event this Sunday that caused his nerves to shake at random times.
He brushed off his brown jacket sleeves and ran a hand through his hair. Standing outside the door, he held a small-stemmed rose in his hand and knocked three times. The door opened after ten seconds and Spot needed to catch his breath upon seeing her.
"Do I look okay?" Gabby asked doubtfully and timidly. Her made-up face took the shape of insecurity.
Spot's bottom lip fell slightly as he looked her over, more than content with what he saw. Much more. He would have to get used to seeing her as she was now—he couldn't keep gaping at her like this. He blinked back to reality and shook away the mess of thoughts in his head. Gabby was looking more unsure with every passing second.
"Are ya kiddin' me?" Spot grinned as he walked in and pulled her close to him. "Ya just…yeah, ya look more than okay."
"It's not too much, is it? I mean, I just picked it up from an old friend." She giggled as he looped a ringlet around his finger and bounced it back to place.
"No, no, it's perfect. Everyone'll be like this."
That was very true: Spot always made sure his boys and their dates dressed nicely and looked presentable whenever attending one of these things. It was as if he was trying to go public with their battle, or something. A last outing was supposed to be done properly, in his mind.
Spot took the rose in his hand and tucked it neatly behind her ear as if it were a corsage. Gabby smiled the way she first realized she truly liked Spot, and linked her fingers with his as they exited the building.
As they strolled down the block toward Sonny's making small talk, Gabby then decided that Tyce did not exist. If not forever, then for this night. Tonight, there was no such thing as the Queens leader, her job, or any type of war. They were mere figments of a colorful imagination, a mirage, an illusion of the mind stimulated by the darkest emotions. The only thing that was real was the one emotion that, above all, conquered the rest. And that was love.
Sonny's restaurant was alive and jubilant with Brooklyn boys and girls for the party. The building was packed with newsboys in high spirits and bright outlooks of events to come. Laughter echoed through the air, among other things, such as a small band situated in a corner to provide upbeat music. The waiters hustled around the large, crowded room to deliver orders of food and large quantities of alcohol. A common site of their kind, a table covered with playing cards and money played host to an intense game of poker. From the looks of it all, one would suspect they had already defeated Queens.
A feeling of satisfaction washed over Spot as they stood before the restaurant. It was easy to see, judging from what he saw through the windows, that his boys were one-hundred percent on his side. In his mind, there was no break in the chain or divide that stood between them. Unbreakable. For the first time, in a long time, it was just one Brooklyn. Conlon's Brooklyn. It was also a very united one at that.
As soon as Spot twisted the doorknob to enter, a wave of bliss greeted him. The music lifted in spirit and the attention was shifted swiftly to the king himself. Gabby gripped his hand tightly as she stood close to his side, soaking in the feeling of royalty. She couldn't help beaming, nor could she help feeling proud, for some reason or another.
Bolt hurried over to Spot, eyes gradually blazing and a goofy smile about his face, holding a shot glass of golden liquid. Above the applause and cheering, he shoved the glass into Spot's hand and clumsily told him to "say somethin' meaningful!" Spot snorted a laugh and lifted his drink to a toast as the noise plummeted at once to a pleasant silence.
"Let's see, somethin' meaningful…" Spot thought aloud to himself. He ran through his mind in search of a nice saying or cliché, but came to a laugh and said, "Just enjoy the rest 'a yer night 'cause the only people that truly matta are the ones in this room."
The cheering picked up again immediately and Spot downed the strong, burning liquid. He let out a loud yell and the party resumed. With several kisses on the cheek to a blushing Gabby, Spot directed them to a table near the poker tournament.
Into the night, the alcohol flowed throughout the room, and king's jesters played faster while getting happier and merrier. The king sat on his throne with the queen on his lap, socializing with the imperial boys and stealing some royal kisses. Occasionally, he would take a majestic shot and order the poker winner a noble glass of beer.
After two shots of God-only-knows-what and a couple glasses of beer, Gabby excused herself politely from the table to get some fresh air. Outside the noise-filled room, the sky was clear with a thousand glistening dots across its canvas. The big, full moon sat between two buildings and shone down onto the cheeks of Gabby. She was living young and enjoying every moment of it. Every good feeling she possessed came to life and had presented itself in the form of this party. Though, just as life had reached its high, a cold and lifeless hand grabbed her arm.
Gabby gasped, terrified, and jumped back. Ace stood at her side with a stiff face, and gripped her bare skin with force. At first, for a split second, she did not comprehend what was going on; but then her dream burst into an ugly reality. Ace pulled her in close so that his face met the side of her head and he could whisper sharply in her ear.
"You may be livin' it up like you'se on top 'a the world tonight, princess, but don't forget what we gotta do."
She closed her eyes and locked her jaw to prevent any sudden burst of anger to unleash itself on Ace.
"I know," Gabby answered simply. "Please don't bother me now." She unhinged his fingers from her now swollen arm and stepped away. "I know."
As Gabby took a breather outside, Spot continued his overseeing the round of cards with extreme amusement. Bolt, Thompson, Glover, and Jimmy were seated around the table in a battle to see who the ultimate poker champion would be. Spot watched as his friends strained to see five cards, as opposed to ten. Then, a familiar face entered the room and was greeted with a reasonable amount of welcome. Spot jumped up and made his way to Jack Kelly. With an oddly warm smile, Spot shook his hand as they conversed.
"So, what brings ya ovah here, Cowboy?"
"Just thought I'd stop by an' wish ya luck this Sunday. Not that ya're relyin' on luck er anythin', I'm just wishin' ya well." Jack's ever-present smile was not quite as bright when he was talking to Spot, which was strange, considering the others were in a state of euphoria.
Spot hesitated his response as if he could not process the tone in which Jack was speaking. But for a moment, the leaders of Manhattan and Brooklyn connected.
"Thanks, Jack." Spot patted his shoulder. "And thanks fer comin' to all the meetings and keepin' us up to speed. Good luck with Harlem, an' you know we'll help you'se guys if ya need it."
"Yeah, I'll let ya know how it goes. But I think we got this covered."
Jack looked around, bemused, at the partiers. A primitive game of beer pong was being played at a nearby table, and applause sounded as the small band completed its song.
"Ya know, I been hearin' about boys talkin' about this battle all ovah," Jack said. "Midtown, East Side, Bronx. Even Boston and Jersey. This thing's big, Spot."
Spot's lips stretched into a wide expression that was neither a smile nor frown. He simply nodded his head. "Yeah, I ain't sure how this'll end, but I got a good feelin' about it."
Gabby entered from the door behind Jack. She smiled briefly and quickly told Spot she would wait for him. Jack waved a small goodbye and sighed.
"With Tyce bein' the crazy, son of a bitch that he is," Jack began after moments, "I'm honestly real surprised he hasn't…attacked you personally, Spot."
Conlon looked back and watched Gabby sitting properly in his chair. "No, Tyce knows I'd kill him the second he lay a hand on her."
The festivities progressed well into the night; Thompson defeated Bolt to win the whole game, the restaurant's supply of anything alcoholic was running low, and the band never faltered in skipping a beat. Gabby ran her fingers along the collar of Spot's jacket and she pressed her head warmly against his shoulder. Their fingers laced together at their sides as they moved about slowly on the dance floor.
"You know, the music is a lot faster than this," Gabby told Spot above the sound of the fiddle's quickened tunes.
"Uh-huh." Spot stepped back, twirled her around, and pulled her back in again. "But what's the rush?"
A light took over Gabby's face as she was taken back to their first kiss there in her living room while they danced, much like they were doing now. She moved his hand to hold the other side of her waist as she pulled him by the back of the neck into a soft lip lock. The music seemed to slow, and their surroundings went into that blurry haze, much like you would expect a kiss of that impact to do.
"You wanna get outta here?" Spot whispered.
Gabby gripped the back of his neck and let one hand wander down to his chest. Her fingertips brushed over a suspender strap until she took it into a firm hold. Without another word, she looked up at him, pecked him on the lips, and started leading him to the door, his hands never leaving her.
There was a sense of absolute urgency in the way Spot kissed her, that was certain. It put her in quite the predicament, because as Spot held was planting his lips over hers, Gabby could not oust the image of Tyce from her mind. Yes, the predicament was a sticky one, with one side as her duty to Tyce, and the other side her love to the Brooklyn enemy who was holding her against the wall and kissing her passionately. Her body took over the advice of her mind when she quickly removed his jacket, and especially when she ripped off his shirt with more power than she knew she had.
Tyce's image strengthened when Spot unbuttoned her dress hungrily and corset with incredible ease, and she kissed him back in just her slip dress. The battle kicked up a notch too when his hands went below her bottom and he lifted her up to carry her into her bedroom. As Spot lay over her entire body, kissing her neck and rubbing her skin, Tyce's haunting face clouded her thoughts. His spine-tingling silver eyes watched her, as there was nearly no turning back now; Spot had just removed that last of her clothing.
This or that, yes or no. The window of opportunity was starting to close, just as something else was beginning. Gabby's mind was making it stop, ending it and avoiding the risk of any punishment from Tyce; but her body had detached itself entirely. She was kissing him back eagerly and gripping his skin and pulling his hair. The outside of her, the happier side, was not at all aware of the tormented thoughts inside.
It didn't go away anytime soon. It lasted for much longer. The predicament intensified and it was killing her without forgiveness. Gabby's mind was at war with herself with the battles being deception and lust and romance. The three worst enemies.
It was coming to and end and her brain could hardly take anymore. This was it, this was the end, this was the conclusion of this battle. A winner had been declared. It was Tyce or it was Spot. It was loyalty or desire, her head or her heart. Her mind and body connected back to one. And Gabby, out of breath, rolled over and kissed the victor on the lips. It was love.