Basic plot summary so far: Race has a feeling something isn't right with Blink, though he can't put his finger on it immediately. He finds his answer when he stumbles across Blink meeting with boys tied to Box Greene. Greene was a territory leader that had violently disappeared years before and is rumored to have resurfaced, trying to reclaim his former power.
Race fears Blink is a traitor and confronts him, giving him a chance to explain himself before Race goes to Jack with his suspicions. Blink doesn't explain himself, however. Instead, he starts a fight withRace that ends with him being thrown out and Race truly believing Blink is the traitor.
Jack and Spot share Race's suspicions, but Jack forbids Spot to touch Blink until they are sure. Spot agrees and promptly goes after Blink anyway. He corners him, but before he gets any useful information from Blink, Box Greene shows up with a mind to kill Blink himself.
It turns out, Blink used to be one of Greene's boys when he was younger and had refused to rejoin him when he came back on the scene. Race had misconstrued what he had seen earlier and had jumped to conclusions. Blink, in a misguided way, was only trying to protect his friends by not involving them with Greene. Now knowing this, Spot fends Greene off for the moment and persuades Blink to go back and tell Jack the truth.
The next day Greene finds Blink. He offers to forget the past and leave him alone for good, if Blink agrees to do him one last favor. Blink refuses. Greene threatens Mush. In order to protect Mush's life, Blink makes a high-stakes deal with Greene. To make sure no one gets suspicious, he has Blink beaten to make it look like he was settling a score. Greene and gives Mush a note to pass on to Jack. It instructs Jack to set up a meeting with Spot. Race and Jack find Mush and Blink soon after and bring them back home.
Jack and Mush go to Brooklyn to set up the meeting with Spot, while Race stays behind and looks after Blink.
Blink and Race talk and eventually come to an understanding, though Race admits he doesn't completely trust Blink anymore. Realizing he has almost destroyed his friendship with Race and can no longer hold everything together on his own, Blink decides to finally confide in Race. He reveals what Greene wants him to do: kill Spot…
It was well into the afternoon when they passed into Brooklyn. The relative calm in the streets was unsettling. Jack saw only one or two boys selling and they seemed more intent on gathering and relaying information than making money.
Spot must have pulled his boys off the streets. Jack could think of several reasons why, none of them good.
As he and Mush approached the docks, it became clear where all the Brooklyn boys were. They were standing in groups, spread out over the street, piers and sidewalks, talking in low voices that stopped as soon as Jack and Mush walked by. Suspicious glances and narrowed eyes replaced the sneers and insults Jack was accustomed to. He found the silence more threatening than the open confrontation he normally faced.
Past experience had taught him to keep a fair distance away from anyone claiming to be from Brooklyn, but that proved to be impossible as he tried to thread his way through the mass of boys. The going was slow and Mush kept up with him easily. They caught stray glares and elbows, which Jack was careful not to return.
"Where do you think you're goin', Kelly?" a dangerously quiet voice asked.
Jack's eyes darted sideways to the source of the voice, his hands easing into fists. It was Danny Cluggs. Everyone who liked him called him Cluggy, everyone else called him Ugly, though rarely to his face. Not only was he ugly, he didn't like to be called ugly and would usually pound anyone who dared.
He had a large, vaguely 's'-shaped scar on the side of his face where the skin hadn't healed right and pinched one side of his mouth into a permanent frown. It was this particularly twisted grin that greeted Jack, blocking his path forward.
As Cluggy circled them slowly, Jack kept his eyes trained on him. He knew Cluggy wanted a fight and was tempted to give him one, but he had more important concerns at the moment. Cluggy circled close enough that his shoulder caught Jack's deliberately. Jack was about to push back when he noticed several more boys had gathered behind him. He glanced at Mush, this wasn't the welcome he expected.
"I'm here for Spot," Jack said evenly, hoping that would scare them off.
Half the boys gathered nearby glanced at the docks, looking for Spot's response. Spot had them trained pretty well, but they weren't too bright, having unintentionally shown Jack right where Spot was.
He could see Spot sitting on the front stoop of a building facing the docks, surrounded by the few Brooklyn boys he trusted. They were openly watching Jack and Mush with the same looks of mild apathy.
Spot was close enough to hear exactly what was going on between them and Cluggy, but, in typical fashion, didn't interfere.
It was like the old days when he and Spot had their first uneasy dealings. Back when every meeting was a test and getting there in one piece was half the object. Brooklyn had no reservations about messing with him and he left more often than not with a black eye. Lately, they hadn't been giving him much trouble. He had a feeling Spot didn't allow them to.
Apparently, he was out of free passes.
"Get outta my way," Jack said, staring Cluggy down with a glint of a threat in his eye.
"Nothin' doin'. Spot ain't seein' no one, least of all you, Manhattan," Cluggy said, a pleased smile snaking to his lips. He was clearly relishing the fact he could put some authority into his words. "You 'n me can have us a little talk, though. Would ya like that, Cowboy? Just you and me."
Jack looked at Spot, expecting him to put Cluggy in his place with a few choice words. Spot's eyes met his, but he said nothing. Jack tried to keep the disbelief from his face.
Something had Spot unnerved. It must have been one hell of a something, if he wasn't letting anyone, even Jack, get near him.
"Call off your dogs, Spot," Jack called out, confronting him openly, "We got business."
If Spot wanted him gone, he was going to have to say it himself.
For a moment, it looked as though Spot was unmoved. His eyes remained expressionless and Jack half-expected him not to respond. Finally, Spot glanced sideways and said a few words to the boy closest to him. The boy shot Jack a suspicious look, but stood, followed shortly by the other boys. They cleared the stairway, though they didn't stray far, still watching Jack closely. Those milling around nearby took the hint and backed away far enough to be out of earshot.
Spot inclined his head, giving Jack permission to approach.
"And it was just gettin' interestin'," Cluggy said under his breath, his mouth twisting once more into its odd smile. His eyes turned to Mush. "How 'bout you? You want a matchin' shiner?" he said, cuffing Mush lightly on the side of his face that was already bruising.
"Suck an egg, " Mush said, knocking his hand away.
Jack seized the front of Cluggy's shirt and shoved him back.
"You shouldn't have done that, Ugly," Jack said as Cluggy steadied himself. By the way Cluggy was laughing, it was clear he had achieved his goal by goading Jack into reacting.
Spot slowly stood. His eyes drifted to where Cluggy stood poised with his fist drawn back, ready to strike Jack. The grin instantly fell from Cluggy's face and he backed away, quickly followed by anyone else who hadn't been smart enough to back off immediately.
Spot nodded again to Jack.
"Make it quick," Mush said under his breath, eyeing the group around them warily.
"Yeah," Jack agreed as he hesitantly left Mush and made his way over to Spot.
Spot gave him only a brief glance before his eyes turned toward the docks. He was still paying attention, however little. On any other day, Jack might have been annoyed, believing Spot was ignoring him for the sake of ignoring him. Today, however, he couldn't care less.
"Greene came downtown for a visit," Jack said, cutting to the chase and intentionally leaving out any pleasantries.
"Lucky you," Spot said with indifference.
So, he already knew. Jack couldn't say he was surprised, Spot had a seemingly omnipresent knowledge of what went on in the city.
"He got two of mine," Jack continued.
"So I heard," Spot said, confirming Jack's suspicion. "Was that a message for you or me?" he asked with little curiosity. He was just letting Jack know how much he knew.
Jack didn't answer. On another day, he might have asked Spot how he managed to know what he knew, he might have asked him why, if his boys were close enough to see Mush and Blink get soaked, they didn't feel the need to step in and stop it. But, today he didn't have time for the half-truth answers he would get. He knew something Spot didn't, something that would help him. Though, why Jack continued to help Spot, he didn't know.
"I got a way to get Greene out in the open," Jack said.
"Yeah? I never figured you for brains."
"He wants a meetin', you and him."
Spot regarded Jack with genuine interest. It was clearly the first time he had heard of the proposition. "That so?"
"He says you can pick the terms."
"Lucky me," Spot said with a hint of a smile. It was either exactly what he wanted to hear or he found the idea too ludicrous to be taken seriously. He crossed his arms and looked out at the water, giving the impression he was seriously weighing the potential benefits and risks. Jack knew it was bullshit. He'd probably been thinking of nothing else for weeks and had worked out every last detail.
"I'm in," he said finally, "We'll meet here in Brooklyn."
"Nah, it's gotta be neutral," Jack said, "that means-"
"I know what it means," Spot cut him off with a cool glance, "Manhattan."
Jack hesitated, but nodded.
"No more than twenty. No weapons. Two weeks. If he sets foot in Brooklyn again, it's off. If he causes any more trouble with you, it's off. If I even hear his name in the next two weeks, it's off," Spot said. His eyes betrayed a hint of anger, which he quickly put in check. "And while your at it, tell him he's gonna have to try a lot harder if he thinks he's goin' to get at me."
Well, that explained a lot. Greene had obviously found a way into Brooklyn and had taken a shot at Spot. It must have been the 'trouble' Race had heard about earlier. No wonder Brooklyn was so jumpy.
Jack could only imagine that Spot hadn't had any warning and it had taken him by surprise along with everyone else. That's why he was so rattled. For all his information, he never saw it coming. Jack wondered if one of Spot's own had betrayed him. It made sense and it was probably why he wasn't willing to let Jack near him at first, not knowing who he could trust.
"So what's the plan?" Jack asked.
"No plan, Jack. You keep yours out of the way, I'll deal with Greene."
"But-"
"There's nothin' else to say," Spot said as he held out his hand for Jack to shake. The audience was over.
Jack looked at him sharply. He was being dismissed and he didn't like it. He knew there was a plan and he knew Spot was cutting him out of it. Although he had always told himself that he didn't trust Spot, for the first time, he realized how little Spot trusted him.
He was tempted to walk away, leaving Spot's hand empty. It would have been in insult, a very public and noticeable one. For appearance's sake, however, he couldn't allow himself the pleasure. If he wanted to walk out of Brooklyn unscathed, he would need Spot's protection. Not to mention, Manhattan and Brooklyn were still allied and it wouldn't exactly look good for him to snub Spot so openly.
So he shook Spot's hand.
"Thanks, Jack," Spot said, as if reading into Jack's hesitation.
Gratitude. He had granted Spot a big favor in allowing him to meet Greene in Manhattan. Spot's idea of gratitude was leaving him in the dark.
"Go to hell," Jack said under his breath as he turned to go.
"You first," Jack heard in reply. He kept walking. If Spot got out of this alive, he would have some explaining to do.
"He's keepin' somethin' from me," Jack said quietly as he rejoined Mush. He probably wouldn't have cared so much, except for the fact he had agreed to play host to Spot's little reunion. Having bloodthirsty gangs roaming his streets bent on revenge didn't exactly sound like his idea of a good night. He had the most to lose in the arraignment and Spot didn't seem to care.
"It is Spot we're talkin' about here. When has he ever been honest with you?" Mush said, making sure to keep his voice down.
"Once or twice."
"Don't count on him, Jack," Mush said, "He don't care a thing about us."
"I've never counted on him," Jack said quickly, which was, in some part, true. However, a small part of him hoped Spot would come through in the end.
Race leaned on the railing at the top of the stairs and watched Mush and Jack as they returned. He glanced at his watch briefly before slipping it back into his pocket. They hadn't been gone long; Spot must not have been in a talkative mood.
Even so, it was already dark and the house was relatively quiet. Most were asleep or getting there. The stairs creaked as Mush climbed them two at a time. Jack followed more slowly.
"How'd it go?" Race asked as Mush reached the top step.
"Good enough," Mush answered quickly as he glanced into the bunkroom. "Did he wake up?"
"Yeah," Race said, glad he could give Mush that much in the way of good news, "He should be alright."
From the amount of relief on Mush's face, Race knew he had probably thought of little else since leaving.
"Did he tell you what happened?" Mush asked hesitantly, as if he wasn't sure he would like the answer. Race nodded. Mush's expression turned serious. "What'd he do? Nothin' stupid, right?"
Jack joined them at the top of the stairs, staying silent as he waited for Race's answer to the question.
"Nah," Race said easily.
"First time for everythin'," Mush said, smiling for the first time since that afternoon. Race felt his stomach turn slightly. He didn't like to lie to Mush, partly because Mush never lied to him.
"I'll sit up with him tonight, in case he needs somethin'," Mush offered, as he made his way into the next room, "No reason you should have to put up with him by yourself."
"Thanks," Race accepted with a stifled yawn, realizing how tired he actually was. He also hoped Jack would take the hint and not ask him anything more about Blink. If there was one thing Race agreed with Blink about, it was keeping the situation quiet, at least for now.
As soon as Mush had gone, Jack crossed his arms and looked at Race closely. "Tell me exactly what he said."
It was clear Jack hadn't bought the simple answer that Mush had readily accepted. Race had anticipated he wouldn't, he would have to convince Jack another way.
There were as many ways to manipulate people as there were people to manipulate. And, although Race never set out in life to manipulate anyone, he found he had a certain knack for it.
Blink could be exploited through his pride, Mush could be convinced by a simple lie, but Jack was a little harder to read. Over the years, Race had concluded that the easiest way to get to him was through his lack of confidence. Not as a person, for he had an over-abundance in that category, but rather in the role of leader that he had half-willingly assumed. He was afraid of stepping on toes, more specifically, the toes of people he had respect for – his friends.
"What's the matter with you? My word ain't good enough?" Race countered with calculated effect.
"No. It's not like that. I didn't mean to-" Jack started, almost apologetically, "It ain't you, it's Blink. There's somethin' goin' on with him that I ain't figured out. It's just-He could be lyin' to you."
Race frowned, pretending to give the idea deep consideration.
Jack had good instincts, he just needed to stick with them. He had the situation pegged the moment Race opened his mouth, but he backed down, just as Race had expected.
"I believe him, Jack. He said Greene was trying to talk him into a favor or somethin'," Race said, giving Jack just enough information to give the impression he was being open, "When Blink didn't go for it, he soaked him. Blink didn't see it comin', but he don't know why Greene left him. I think maybe Greene's plannin' on comin' back for him."
Jack would believe him, because he always did. He often asked Race's opinion and, in some cases, had deferred to it. Maybe that was why Race felt another twinge of guilt. Just because he could manipulate people, didn't mean he enjoyed it.
Jack nodded, seeming to accept the explanation. "Alright. Thanks for talkin' with him."
"What did His Majesty have to say?" Race asked, changing the subject casually.
"He's in," Jack said, keeping his voice quiet in case anyone close enough to hear him was still awake, "He don't trust me enough to tell me what he's goin' to do. But I think he thinks it's a set up."
"Why's that?" Race said, not betraying the fact he already knew it was.
Jack shrugged. "'Cause he's Spot," he said with a thin smile before adding, "Greene tried to take a crack at him this morning. He's still on edge, they all are."
Race did his best to look surprised. It made sense. Greene must have searched Blink out after he was unsuccessful on his own. He knew he wouldn't be able to get in again now that they knew what he was up to, so he went to the person that could get in.
"When's it gonna be?"
"Two weeks, but I bet they don't make it that far. One's gonna take the other out-"
Jack kept talking, but Race was only half-listening. Two weeks wasn't long, he didn't know what kind of shape Blink would be in by then. Although he had told Blink he would come up with a plan, he wasn't any closer to solving the problem than when he had made the promise. The combination of risks and obstacles in their way was daunting. There was a reason Spot was still in control of Brooklyn after so many years, and it wasn't his sparkling personality.
"What?" Race asked sharply, catching only the last few words Jack said.
"I said they're meetin' here," Jack repeated defensively, apparently anticipating the objection. "It'll work. We'll keep ours clear, let those two pound each other. It'll work, don't worry."
Spot was coming to Manhattan. That changed everything.
Blink pulled his blanket up under his chin and tried to ignore the sunlight that was creeping into the room. He also tried to ignore the hurried footsteps and general pandemonium that accompanied getting ready for work.
He didn't have very much luck.
Rolling over, he pulled the blanket over his head.
He hadn't gone out to work since the week before. The first few days had been by necessity, considering he couldn't walk in a straight line and spent more time asleep than awake. The next few days had been understandable, but he knew he was well enough to go back out. He was still quite sore and tired easily, but he had worked under worse circumstances in the past.
He could tell Race was getting impatient with him, though he didn't say anything outright. No doubt, if it were Race, he would have been out selling the very next day. It was Race's theory that if you could walk, you could sell. And Blink could walk well enough, Race had seen to that, though he hadn't realized it at first.
Race had begun by putting Blink's cigarettes just out of reach of where he was laying. It was casual enough that Blink thought it coincidence that each time Race happened to be in the room, his cigarettes would just happen to end up on the floor or the neighboring bunk. For awhile, Blink couldn't do anything except wait for someone to return and help him. Gradually, he managed to lean out of his bed just enough to stretch his fingers and reach them on his own. It was that same day that they mysteriously moved farther away. Race blamed one of the new kids. After awhile, Race ran out of new kids to blame, so he made up a few.
When Blink managed to get nearly across the room and back without falling or stopping to rest, Race suddenly forgot to bring him enough water to last the day, meaning he would have to get it from the washroom himself.
He finally caught on and confronted Race.
Race had replied, straight-faced and innocently, that Blink was crazy. He also added that, as long as Blink was up and around, he should think about selling.
Blink had gotten angry, but tired quickly, only managing to tell Race to mind his own business and to keep his hands off other people's cigarettes. He would have preferred to storm off, but limping away slowly had to suffice.
That had been two days ago. Race hadn't approached him about working since.
He knew it was time to get back out, but part of him was clinging to the safety of the lodging house. It was the only place that his trouble and Greene couldn't follow him. The minute he put himself back on the street was a minute closer to the day he was dreading.
Race had told him not to think about the deal he had made, that he would come up with some way to work it out.
How was he not supposed to think about it? He had thought about it every waking moment.
It was true Blink was no genius at coming up with solutions, but it didn't stop him from trying. Race shot down each suggestion he gave him, citing one flaw or another. One time, Race didn't even bother explaining what was wrong with the idea, he just laughed.
Race didn't offer any grand schemes of his own right away. Instead, he would spend hours alone, shuffling a deck of cards or playing solitaire. As the days passed and Race remained silent, Blink became increasingly uneasy.
Finally, Race had woken him up one night and pulled him out of bed. He signaled for Blink to remain quiet as he gestured to the washroom. Blink was thankful for the snores and deep breathing that covered his labored footsteps as he limped slowly across the room. Race was right behind him, his hand on Blink's back, lightly guiding him to the far corner of the washroom.
Race quickly made sure the darkened room was truly empty before he began to speak. His voice was so quiet that Blink had to lean in close to hear him, so close that his ear touched Race's lips as he spoke.
Race had made it clear that their lives were more important than Spot and, if push came to shove, they would save their own skins. He had made Blink agree to this before he shared his plan.
It was meticulous, covering every angle and a few more than Blink hadn't even thought of. If it worked, it would protect Mush, keep Blink safe, appease Greene and keep Spot alive. If it didn't work, well, the first three priorities would be accomplished. It was risky, but Blink took solace in the fact Race never put his money on a bum deal.
Blink rolled onto his side and rearranged the pillow under his head. One more day. He would give himself one more peaceful day before-
"You workin' today?" Mush asked hopefully as he passed by.
"Maybe tomorrow," he mumbled sleepily without opening his eyes. Mush didn't pursue it and Blink let himself drift off again.
The next sound he heard was a loud rapping on the crossbeam above his head. He woke with a start.
"Get goin'," Race said, "You're workin' today."
"Says who?" He gave Race a tired groan as he rubbed his eyes awake.
"Says me." Race threw him his shirt. Blink caught it and threw it right back at him. Race just shrugged and dropped it back on the floor where he found it. He started going through Blink's things, picking out his hat and shoes while Blink looked on in annoyance. Race just wasn't getting it.
"I ain't feelin' up to it, alright?" Blink said. He grabbed his hat from Race's hand and hung it back on its nail.
"You've had enough time, Blink," Race said, pulling the hat back off, "We can't pay for you no more, it's been over a week."
"Bull. I paid for the week," Blink said as he yanked his hat free from Race's fingers again. Race looked at him narrowly and Blink met his gaze with one of equal intensity. As they both went silent, anyone who was still in the bunkroom cleared out in short order.
"You ain't stayin' behind again. Get dressed or your goin' out how you is."
"Look, I ain't goin' and that's the end of it."
"You're nuts," Blink fumed as Race pushed him through the front door and out into the street. He buttoned his undershirt hastily. "Ow! Quit pushin' me."
"Race, quit pushin' him," Mush said in only a half-hearted protest. Blink swore he saw Mush smiling. Smiling.
"At least let me get my hat-" Blink said, planting his feet.
"You had fair warnin'," Race dismissed the request with another push forward.
"Here," Mush slipped him his hat.
Blink took it with a begrudging amount of thanks. The gesture wasn't enough to entirely excuse Mush for the part he had played.
"Hey, Kid! Don't stay out too long. Wouldn't want you to accidentally start workin' or nothin'," a voice called out, just loud enough that everyone on the entire block could here. The boys nearby laughed and Blink set his jaw.
"Nah, he just don't want to go out with his pretty face all bruised up. He's afraid the girls won't look at him no more," someone else answered loudly. There was more laughter and a few catcalls.
"You pay'em enough, they'll like anything."
"He ain't that rich!"
Blink scowled and turned back toward the lodging house. He didn't need that. He knew they were just joking around, but he wasn't in the mood to grin and bear it. Race caught him by his collar and pulled him back.
"Don't pay them no mind," he said. His hand didn't let go of the back of Blink's neck as he kept him moving across the street.
"Yeah, you wouldn't have to pay a girl nothin' to be with you," Mush said with almost a straight face. Mush and Race exchanged a brief glance before they both burst into laughter.
"For Christ's sake- Would you lay off?" Blink said as he wrenched his shirt from Race's grip and glared at them both. He didn't find anything about the situation amusing. He was tired of being joked about, tired of being pushed, not to mention he was just plain tired. The exasperation must have been clear on his face, for Race and Mush quickly stifled their grins.
Race let him walk under his own power and at his own pace the rest of the way to distribution. He knew he wasn't getting out of it, so instead of dragging his feet, he went with his head held high and a deep scowl on his face. He scowled as they waited in line, as Mush cracked jokes to get him to lighten up, as Jack offered to get them lunch, and as Mush and Race finally bought their papers.
Blink didn't get any of his own papers, citing the fact he had been flung out the door before he had the chance to get his money. He said a few more, choice comments before Mush cut in and steered him away from Race, offering to give Blink some of his own papers.
Race didn't care whether or not Blink actually worked, he just wanted him to get out again. The longer he stayed by himself in the lodging house, the quieter he became. Race knew he was thinking of nothing but what he had agreed to do for Greene and the potential consequences. At least getting him working again would take his mind off of it for awhile. He didn't look happier, though. In fact, he looked even more tightly wound.
"Where we goin'?" Blink asked Mush.
"Around here," Mush said, as he divided his stack and gave Blink half, "Find a good spot."
Blink took the papers and headed down the street. By the deliberate sharpness in his movements, Race could tell he still wasn't thrilled to be out, or, more likely, didn't like being forced into it.
"Don't let'im give you any crap or take off early," Race said in parting advice.
Mush nodded, only half-listening as he scanned the newspaper's headlines again.
"Remember, if you see something that don't seem right-"
"Race, he's fine with me. We're all lookin' out for him, nothin's gonna happen, okay?" Mush said reassuringly, "Where you gonna be?"
"I'm stickin' around," Race said, indicating he wouldn't be going out to the tracks, "I'll be up a few blocks."
"Alright, we'll see ya."
Race set off down the block. He hadn't sold in that area before, but it wasn't long before he found some familiar faces and was given the run-down on where he could sell without stepping on toes.
It wasn't long before he found out why nobody had already claimed the spot. After the usual morning rush, there was little foot traffic and, in short, nobody around who'd want a paper. There were a few bricklayers around the block, some kids playing stickball and a woman working the corner.
It was an odd hour and place for her to be working, but Race concluded she lived in one of the buildings across the street and was trying to make a few extra cents before her husband got home. At least she was making money, that's all that counted. And, from the look of it, she was doing better than him at it, having already taken a few men around the back of the building.
She caught Race's eye and winked.
If she had been younger and he hadn't known any better, it might have been flirtatious. But behind her smile, all he could see was her need to make a nickel and the tiredness in her eyes.
He tipped his hat politely and let his attention move on.
"Makin' friends?" he heard Blink say, startling him. He hadn't even noticed him come around the block.
"Don't sneak up on people like that," Race told him.
"Pay more attention to what's goin' on," Blink countered.
Race couldn't say anything to that. Blink had a point.
"What d'you want?" Race said, changing the subject before Blink could revel in the fact he was right. He looked alright, he even had a smile on his face. That was a change. Race credited it to Mush. Blink never seemed to stay in a bad mood around him for long.
"You got a light?"
"No," Race said automatically. Blink never carried enough matches. After the first dozen times Blink had asked for one, Race had smartened up. He hadn't given him a light in several years, barring the odd day of generosity on his part. Apparently, Blink was expecting today to be one of those days.
"Come on."
"I said I don't got one," Race said, not relenting, "Go get one off the brickers." Race gestured to a building down the block. It was close enough that the clanging of trowels and bricks could be heard from where they were. Blink had no excuse not to go and he knew it. He rolled his eyes and reluctantly went off in search of a light.
Race went back to not working. He though he might have had his first sale for the hour when a woman approached him. But it was the woman from the corner and she didn't seem interested in the news.
"Hello there, sugar," a raspy, though decidedly feminine voice said. She regarded him with a thin, yellowing smile.
"I ain't interested," Race said simply. She gave a little, raspy laugh and began to twirl a piece of coarse hair around her finger.
"I'm sure I don't know what you mean," she said coyly.
"Sure you don't, honey," he said, "If you don't mind, I gotta work here." Race subtlety moved away from her. It wouldn't be good for business to be seen with her, not that business had been that good to start with.
She didn't seem bothered, taking the snub in stride.
"Where's your friend?" she asked innocently enough.
"I got a lot of friends, lady."
"The one you were with just now."
"I don't know who you're talkin' about," Race replied. They had all become cautious over the past weeks, especially where Blink was concerned.
She wasn't convinced, but seemed to sense she wasn't going to find out what she wanted by simply asking. Her flirtatious smile returned.
"I just wanted to tell him what a good night I had," she said, lowering her voice in false modesty.
Race almost laughed aloud. He should have known that was all.
"Maybe you could tell him for me?" she suggested.
"I'd rather not," Race said, trying not to smile. He managed to keep a straight face as he pointed her in the direction Blink had gone.
"Thanks, sweetpea," she said with a wink.
Race managed not to laugh until she was out of earshot. Blink wouldn't get away with this one. He was going to make sure everyone knew about it. The merciless teasing he would be subject to would get him back for telling the Queens boys that Race ran a rigged game. Sure, Blink had been drunk at the time, but he had lost Race a lot of money and Race had never found a good enough way to get back at him- until now.
"Hey," Race said, barely containing a grin as Blink came back, "Your lady-friend find you?"
"Yeah," Blink said distractedly.
Race laughed to himself, but didn't push it. Blink look like he might have gotten into some sort of trouble, but he wasn't running, which meant he didn't get into anything with the bricklayers or anyone else who could pound him into a pulp. That left the girl. Leave it to Blink to be out of the lodging house for less than day and still find trouble.
"What? You knock her up?" Race asked, only half-jokingly. Blink didn't answer. The smile fell from Race's face. "You knocked her up?"
"No! God, Race. No," Blink said defensively, not seeing the humor in it.
"Then what's the matter with you?" Race furrowed his brow.
"Nothin'," he said with a sudden sense of resolve.
"Don't start with that shit. I ain't askin' again," Race said. He had learned over the past few days that 'nothing' was the worst kind of trouble Blink could get himself into.
With clear weariness, Blink sat on the nearest stoop and looked at Race half-heartedly. He lifted his hat and combed the stray hair out of his face before pulling the cap back on.
"That thing I gotta do-" Blink started.
Suddenly it became painfully clear. Race's expression darkened. "She was with Greene?"
Blink nodded.
Race closed his eyes briefly. And he had pointed her right at Blink.
Greene was smart. Race would give him that. He had sent a woman, knowing she would be able to get in and out without attracting attention. He wasn't playing fair.
"What did she say?" Race asked, his voice hard. He didn't like people who didn't play by the rules, especially when they were messing with him and his.
"He wants it done today," Blink said with a shrug. He was trying to appear unaffected, but it wasn't working.
"But the meetin' ain't for days."
"He says Spot won't be expectin' it. He says Spot won't be on guard," Blink said, his eyes remaining fixed on the ground.
They both knew Spot was perpetually on guard. If Race had to guess, he'd say Greene was trying to get Blink caught. Even if Blink succeeded, he would be in the heart of Brooklyn and wouldn't get out alive.
Race thought it over quickly. There was only one option.
"Get up, let's go," Race prompted him, leaving his papers on the stoop, "We'll stick to the same plan."
Blink stood up slowly. "You don't gotta go with me, Race. I can do it on my own."
"No, you can't. Maybe if Spot was comin' here, but he ain't. You wouldn't get ten feet into Brooklyn without trouble. Besides, even if you got in, you wouldn't know where to look." Race made his argument as he started to walk, not wanting to waste more time.
"Race-"
"Shut up and walk," Race said as Blink caught up with him, "Save your breath for all the fast talkin' you're gonna have to do."
"Shouldn't we go another way?" Blink asked, glancing back at the bridge. Going to Brooklyn was dicey enough as it was; waltzing in on the most visible route was an open invitation to get soaked.
"He'll know we're comin' no matter which way we take. Besides, us walkin' right in will look less out of place," Race explained, looking every bit as calm as his voice was.
He had no qualms about going into Brooklyn. He passed through it nearly every day on his way to the tracks, not to mention some of the biggest games were held there. They tolerated him, were even friendly at times, but at the end of the day, everyone knew which side of the bridge he belonged to.
Blink couldn't help but notice the dark stares they were on the receiving end of. The deeper they walked into the territory, the clearer it became that they were not welcome. Blink started returning a few of the looks with equal intensity.
Race glanced at him. "Don't give'em a reason," he said, "Just keep your eyes movin'. Don't look too long in one place. They won't touch us unless we start it."
"Don't tell me they got hearts," Blink said, moving his attention on from a group of boys who were making vulgar gestures toward them.
"Brains," Race said, "They'd have to answer to Spot if they did. You can guess how many of them are lining up for that. They want to soak us twice as bad 'cause they can't. Remember that."
Blink was a slightly more careful about who he looked at.
"Higgins," a boy called out from the corner as they passed, "you lookin' for some action? Got a game set for tonight."
"I'm lookin' for Spot. He around?" Race said.
"Nah, haven't seen'im," the boy answered readily enough. Blink was somewhat surprised. If it was just going to be a matter of asking around, finding Spot wouldn't be as hard as he anticipated.
Race nodded in thanks and continued walking.
"He's here," Race said quietly as soon as they were out of earshot, "The more they say he ain't, the closer you are."
"So how are we gonna find him?"
"It ain't hard, if you know where to look. If he don't want to be found, it'll just take longer."
"We don't have time for this hide-and-seek shit," Blink said, looking over his shoulder for the third time in as many minutes. "Jack never has problems findin' him."
"Yeah, well, we ain't Jack," Race said, "'N quit bein' so jumpy."
Blink tried to calm his nerves. He didn't know how Race could be so composed, or at least appear so composed.
"Thanks, Race," Blink said suddenly, "For comin' with me, I mean. Well, for everythin' else too, but, you know-for helpin' me out." He didn't thank people too often and wasn't very good at it. But, he felt it had to be said and he didn't know if he'd get another chance.
"No problem," Race shrugged it off quickly, not used to being thanked, "Besides, you would've screwed it up on your own. You don't do nothin' right." Race gave him a half-smile.
"There," Race said, stopping abruptly in the middle of the street. He indicated a shabby restaurant on the corner. Its name had worn off the sign that hung crooked over the door and Blink couldn't even see through the filthy glass.
"Where? I don't see'im," Blink said, giving up on the restaurant and scanning the street instead.
"Inside."
"How can you tell?"
"You see that kid standing against the windows?" Race said, pointing out a tall boy who was lighting a cigarette.
"Yeah, so what?"
"That's Bowler. Spot don't go anywhere without him two steps behind. They don't like each other much, but he watches Spot's back. You find him, you find Spot."
Blink wasn't so sure, but Race seemed to be and that was good enough for him. He started across the street, but noticed Race wasn't with him.
"You ready?" Blink asked.
Race looked at Blink pointedly, as if he had something to say, but didn't know if he should say it. "I can do it for you, Kid," he said finally, "If you want me to-"
"No," Blink refused at once, "It's mine to do." Race had already risked so much helping him this far, he couldn't allow him to do more. In the end, it was his responsibility and he would have to see it through.
Race didn't offer again or try to persuade him, he just nodded and joined Blink. They walked slowly toward the restaurant, and tried not to attract any attention. It didn't help that they stuck out like a sore thumb that deep in Brooklyn, but no one tried to stop them.
"You're a long way from home," Bowler remarked quietly as they passed him. There was intense suspicion in his eyes, as if he knew they were up to no good. Blink tensed, expecting they would be stopped right there and told to get out. Bowler didn't make a move, though. Continuing to smoke his cigarette, he only gave them enough of his attention to eye them warily.
"Lookin' for Spot," Race said, "He here?"
Bowler paused, taking a long look up and down the street before he answered, "No." His eyes lingered on Race for just a moment before turning back to the street.
"Come on," Race said, nodding to the restaurant.
"Did I miss somethin'?" Blink asked.
"They got their own way of doin' things here," Race explained vaguely as he opened the door.
Blink followed him in, still confused as to what exactly had happened. Apparently, 'no' meant 'yes' in Brooklyn. No wonder they were always fighting with each other, nobody knew what anyone else was really saying.
The inside was small, only one narrow room with a few mismatched tables crowded into what little space there was. The room was filled to capacity. Not one chair was empty, and there was barely enough room to stand, let alone eat. All conversation stopped the moment the door closed behind them.
Sensing Blink's unease, Race took the first step out of the safety of the doorway.
The boys closest to the door immediately stood up, blocking their path with forks and knives still in hand. Blink swallowed. Race didn't seem phased.
He could feel Race at his side, prompting him forward, but he didn't move. He had convinced himself that he wasn't afraid, so that couldn't have been what kept him rooted to the floor. Uncertain, perhaps. Nervous, maybe. Unwilling to be impaled on a fork, definitely, but certainly not afraid.
Blink glanced over his shoulder as Bowler came in. Filling the doorway with crossed arms and a dispassionate expression, he now blocked any retreat. Not that Blink was having second thoughts.
He scanned the room quickly, finding a back door just a few yards from where Spot was sitting. Of course, he didn't know how much good that would be. Spot was no fool by any stretch of the imagination and his proximity to the door was, no doubt, for his own benefit. And, by coincidence or design, he was surrounded on all sides by boys who looked like they were just waiting for the word to soak Blink and Race five ways from Sunday.
"Well, well. Look what we got here. A couple of true-blue pals," Spot said smoothly, his half-smile never disappearing even as he talked. His apparent lack of concern over Race and Blink's sudden interruption put the others at ease. A few even resumed eating.
Spot looked between them, finally settling his attention on Race. "What does Kelly want now?"
"We're here on our own," Blink said. Spot's eyes darted to him so quickly he almost flinched.
"Oh yeah?" Spot said with feigned interest, his smile turning slightly sarcastic. He was humoring them.
"We gotta talk with you," Blink said.
"So talk." Spot sat back in his chair, giving Blink the impression he was getting his full attention.
"Alone," Blink said, glancing at the other boys that were crowded around Spot. He had to get closer if he even stood a chance of success.
"No," Spot said. The amused look that had played on his face faded instantly as he glanced to someone just behind them. "That's far enough."
Blink hesitated. He felt a hand dig into his shoulder.
"Not another step, Manhattan," he heard a voice hiss near his ear. He didn't have to look to know it was their new friend Bowler. And, by the sound of a slight scuffle behind him, he could tell Race was making some new friends of his own.
"Say what you gotta say," Spot said, his eyes narrowing first at Blink, then at Race, trying to figure out what their intent was. He was on guard now and had stood up from the table, putting more distance between him and them. The fact they were still standing was probably just a courtesy to Jack.
Blink readied himself, though deep down he knew no amount of fast-talking was going to get them out of this.
He had only one chance.
His good eye glanced to Race one last time. Race nodded just once, so slightly that it was almost imperceptible.
It was now or never.
Two boys were seen running from a restaurant on the corner. Shouts followed them into the street as they split up and disappeared into the confusion. The restaurant emptied at a terrible speed, boys still clutching their dinner knives. Some stood in disbelief, others gave chase.
"Traitors!" they yelled.
"Death to Manhattan!" they screamed.
Across Brooklyn, boys left their selling spots and gathered in the street. Anger swept through the milling crowds. They wanted revenge. As word spread, the numbers grew larger and the rage grew more chaotic. Threats were spoken openly, windows were broken, storefronts smashed. The police wouldn't go near them, fearful for their own safety.
The city slowly went quiet, waiting for the upheaval that seemed imminent. The silence lingered as he lingered, but it wouldn't be for long. It was early evening when the word came and all hell broke lose.
Spot Conlon was dead.
A/N: Thanks for sticking with me, everyone. An extra-long update to make up for the wait. I hope you enjoyed :0) All feedback most welcome.
Shoutouts-
BTW, I heard a rumor that we were no longer allowed to do these? Is that true?
B- Hehe, your reviews never cease to make me smile :0) I just realized I totally missed Blink week. -Again- Oy. But I get points for updating, right:0)
Lou- Your view on the characters was so insightful, and made me see things I never realized before. Thank you so much again for writing to me, I really appreciated what you said :0)
Sprints- Oh, oh, what was it? You don't have to say, I'm way too curious. :0) The summary at the top was totally thanks to you. It was definitely needed and should have been done sooner. Thanks!
Tuesday- Race is probably one of my favorite characters for just those reasons ;0)
Braids- -double glomp- :0) Thanks!
TSB- Hehe, no pressure…no, none. None at all -whistles innocently-
Faro the black dragon- Well, you might need to wait a little longer to get the full answer :0) Thanks for reading!
Gothic Author- I totally typed 'Auror' again facepalm Damn you, HBP. I hear ya, I haven't been on much myself lately. I'm happy I've lured you back though ;0)
Christianrockstar- Hehe, well, they sure did something :0) We'll have to wait to see exactly what ;0) Thank you for reading, I'm really glad you've enjoyed the story thus far.
msskd3987- I am in much love of Ms. 24601 myself and take it as a great compliment to mentioned in the same sentence as her :0) Thank you so much for reading!
Allie- Here:0) I'm glad you enjoyed!