"Oh, you should have seen 'em. That bonehead never knew what hit 'em!" Racetrack sat on David and Lily's living room settee—a Louis XVI style with viridian upholstery—wearing the same pinstripe suit that he had had on when he was arrested, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
Racetrack had been released from Sing Sing earlier that afternoon. He headed to the Jacobs' apartment as soon as he arrived in the city, without stopping home to change. The polka dot bowtie that he had sported on Break Maiden's last day in business was absent, long gone, probably stolen by a guard at the Castle, at least that is what Racetrack believed. It wasn't with the personal belongings that they had taken from him when he was processed on his first day at the pen. Racetrack was cheesed off when he realized that the bowtie was missing, but he knew better than to start a fight with a prison guard, especially on the day he was heading home.
Ruth had installed herself next to Racetrack on the settee after dinner. She smiled at her beau, glad to have him back, while rolling a faux tortoiseshell cigarette holder between her thumb and forefinger. Ruth liked to smoke in the evening after supper, but she knew that Lily did not allow smoking in the apartment, so there was no cigarette in the holder.
David sat opposite Racetrack in a narrow wingback chair which matched the settee. His fingers were laced behind his head and his legs, crossed at the ankle and unbent at the knee, were splayed out comfortably in front of him. Harry and Lucy sat around an oval coffee table drinking in Racetrack's tall tales with eager faces. Lucy sat side saddle with her shoes off. Harry sat cross-legged.
Although the Eighteenth Amendment prohibited the manufacture, sale, and transport of alcoholic beverages, said amendment could not stop a person from imbibing alcohol in the comfort of his or her own home. David and Lily were not habitual drinkers, but they had a wide variety of wine and spirits stocked in their liquor cabinet, mostly gifted to them from various friends and business associates of David's over the years, before it became illegal to buy alcohol. Racetrack was on his second glass of whiskey; he was becoming more animated with every sip.
Harry stared up at Racetrack with wide eyes, taking in every word that his stepfather said as gospel. "I bet you flattened 'em," the impressionable boy speculated.
"Oh, you bet I did." Racetrack spread his hands out to emphasize his point. "He'll probably be laid up for a week. He was this mick–no offense Jack–" Racetrack glanced over at Jack, but when he saw no injury in his friend's eyes—Jack had never been overly attached to his Irish heritage—he continued. "–named O'Reilly. He came after me from day one. Boy, let me tell you, after the black eye I gave 'em, he won't forget the name Racetrack Higgens anytime soon."
With an elbow leaning against the fireplace and a glass of whiskey in his own hand, Jack smirked at his friend's braggadocio. "Looks like O'Reilly worked you ova' a bit too. I heard dat dem Irish boys up at Sing Sing don't take nothin' from nobody." Under Racetrack's left eye a deep purple half-moon shone unapologetically.
"Yeah, it looks like you fell on a bunch of rotten grapes," Teddy chimed in. Not wanting to sit on the floor with Harry and Lucy, he stood behind David's chair with his arms crossed.
Racetrack's face screwed up in mock incredulity. He gestured towards his eye with his left forefinger. "This? This is nothin'. I had to let 'em take a swing at me at least once, boost his confidence a little before I put 'em down for the count—."
"Yeah, I'm so sure," Teddy retorted while rolling his eyes.
Racetrack looked over at the fireplace. "Hey Jack, this boy of yours is starting to get a mouth on 'em."
Jack granted Teddy a conspiratorial smile. "Hey, this is New Yawk, he's got to learn to hold his own–can't let udda guys take advantage of 'em. As long as he don't mouth off to me or Sarah, he can say whateva he wants."
Sarah and Lily suddenly emerged from the swinging door that led to the kitchen. The former carried a white oval plate of sugar cookies while the latter conveyed an open bottle of whiskey in her hands. The two women had been eavesdropping on the conversation from the kitchen and decided that now was as good a time as any to rejoin the group. Sarah exchanged a knowing glance with Jack before she set the plate of cookies onto the coffee table. To the Sullivans, Racetrack hadn't changed in twenty-two years. He was the same old Racetrack, chocked full of fish stories, that they had known since they were teenagers. Sarah went to stand beside Jack; he instinctively slipped his arm around her waist, grazing his hand over the pale-yellow fabric of her dress as he did so.
As soon as the plate of cookies touched the table, Harry and Lucy grabbed at the sugary treats. Teddy loved the taste of his mother's cookies but hung back, wanting to be seen as more mature than the younger children. When alone, he could eat ten cookies in one sitting.
Lily placed the whiskey bottle on the table an arms-length away from the cookie plate before sitting down in a Queen Anne style dining chair which had been placed opposite the settee for the gathering in case extra seating was needed. Out of respect for the hosts, Sarah had chosen to not sit in the chair, even though she had been on her feet for most of the day. Besides, she knew that Jack would always let her lean on him. After listening to the rowdy dinnertime banter between Racetrack and Ruth for over an hour, Sarah was glad to be standing next to someone who resonated at her own frequency.
With Lily now sitting across from him, Racetrack's attention diverted towards his hostess, or more specifically, her physical appearance. For the evening, Lily had chosen a dusty peach ankle length dress with lace trim at the neckline, cuffs, and hem — a dress that Sarah had made for her sister-in-law for her 36th birthday. Lily had chosen it because she wanted Sarah to know how much she still liked the dress, even if it was becoming slightly out of date. Her hair, which she normally wore up, had been loosely plaited on one side. Although Lily had not consumed any of the whiskey, her cheeks were faintly flushed. Racetrack thought Lily looked lovely and had drunk just enough alcohol that night to open his trap and tell her so. "Lily, may I say you are looking as beyoootiful as ever! Sometimes I think Davey boy over there don't know what he's got."
"That's what I keep telling him," Lily said benignly. She smiled politely at her interlocuter. There was no appreciable hostility in her tone. Lily's response seemed to be a matter of course to her.
David's eyes narrowed with irritation. "I know what I've got, thank you very much."
Ruth wasn't jealous, mainly because she knew that someone as domestic and delicate as Lily would never be interested in Racetrack, but she still thought that she shouldn't let the comment slide. "Racetrack, maybe this should be your last drink."
Racetrack looked at Ruth, raised his eyebrows mischievously and then took another sip of whiskey. "Don't worry doll, I won't embarrass ya." Understanding that he had spoken out of turn to Lily, Racetrack changed the topic abruptly. "So Lil, I hear your brotha's coming ta' visit. I guess when he gets here, I won't be the best-looking guy in New Yawk anymore."
"Not in my book," Ruth quipped, giving Racetrack a playful squeeze on the knee.
"See, now that is why I keep her around." Racetrack jerked his thumb towards Ruth to indicate who he was referring to, even though it was obvious.
Racetrack was not wrong. Elias Nadler had a strong masculine jaw but his eyes were more feminine in appearance with long thick lashes fluttering over chestnut brown eyes. Not only that, but his cheekbones were chiseled in a manner like a master such as Michelangelo would have carved. Simply put, for a man, Eli was beautiful. It wasn't just his physical appearance that made Eli turn heads when he walked down the street. Lily's twin brother was, without fail, sartorially suave, dressed in the most fashionable garments of the day.
David was grateful for the whiskey glass in his hand, because the effects of its contents easily masked the discomfiture that he felt at hearing Eli's name again. Eli's piercing eyes were never far from his thoughts. Sometimes, he even saw them in his dreams.
"Yes, he is. I am really looking forward to seeing him again. It's been so long." Lily folded her hands in her lap. "Too long."
Racetrack took another small sip of whiskey. He was trying to make what remained in his glass last, trying to stall the inevitable, which was pouring himself a fresh dram. He didn't want to get too zozzled in front of the children. "Lil, you think your brudda would want to go in with me on a new club?"
Lily's forehead puckered. "What do you mean, 'go in with you'?
Jack looked at Sarah. Both of them understood exactly what Racetrack was suggesting.
"Well, I thought that he might have some dough he needs to bake. I bet he did good over there, on the otha' side of the pond," Racetrack asserted.
"Maybe he didn't and dat's why he's coming back," Jack added reflexively, not really directing his comment to anyone in particular.
"You're thinking of opening a new bar? After what happened?" David brought his hands out from behind his head and leaned towards Racetrack, shaking his head in disbelief. "Don't you ever learn?
"Hey, there's good money to be made in selling liqua. I've just got to be a lil' smarter next time. The goons can't scare me."
Jack gently removed his arm from Sarah's waist. He stepped closer to the settee. "Come on Race, think of Harry. What will happen to 'em if you're in the hole for longer than a month?"
Racetrack set his glass down on the table. "I am thinking of Harry. Kids cost money, you know that yourself, Jack. "
At the mention of his name, Harry looked at Race and blurted out innocently. "I don't cost that much. As long as I can eat Tootsie Rolls, you don't even have to feed me!"
Racetrack humphed at Harry's naïve understanding of the conversation. He was ashamed that he had said such a thing in front of the boy. "No, of course you don't, kid. Don't worry about what I said. I'm just talking out a' my hat." Racetrack now took the opportunity to reach for a cookie, quickly eating it in two bites.
"Don't worry, baby," Ruth said, looking at Harry. She was still rolling the cigarette holder in her hand. She wanted to smoke so badly.
"Why would Eli want to give you money to start a new speakeasy?" David scoffed. "Look at what happened to Break Maiden."
Jack ran his fingers quickly across his mouth to wipe off the remnants of whiskey that lingered on his lips. "Doesn't seem like a good idea, Race."
"Well, I'll ask 'em anyway. Can't lose what I ain't got. Besides, what else am I gonna' do? I ain't cut out for honest work."
"Racetrack, you could call your new bar, The Oven," Lucy exclaimed, suddenly sitting up straight with a light in her eyes, proud of what she perceived as her own cleverness.
"Da Oven? How come?" Racetrack asked.
"Well, dough is another word for money, right?"
"Yea…"
"So, people should bring their 'dough' to your club and spend it. In The Oven!"
Racetrack slapped his knee, pleased with Lucy's wit. "Sarah, this one must have got your brains, she certainly didn't get dem from her faddah." Jack curled up a fist and jocularly threatened his friend with it. Racetrack and Jack would never come to actual blows no matter how much they needled each other, because both men knew that Jack would emerge the victor, even if he were given a handicap. Racetrack turned back to face Lucy. "Maybe I should make ya a silent partner."
Lucy folded her arms across her chest. "How much are you gonna pay me?"
"I didn't say anything about payin' ya, kid," Racetrack shot back smugly.
"Fine, then I don't want to be your partner." Lucy held her head high. She was not really angry but wanted to show Racetrack that he couldn't bamboozle her just because she was a child.
"What does it take for a guy to get some respect around here?" Racetrack barked rhetorically.
Everyone in the room burst out laughing.
Author's Note: It's been a hot minute since I've updated this story. It certainly isn't due to lack of interest, I've just been super busy. In the next chapter, David and Sarah will meet with the Delmans, and Alvin, in Central Park.
