Chapter 3

"So I don't have to put on my monkey suit for this Blue Parrot place?" Nick said as he thumbed through the clothes he had unpacked. He had brought formal wear, and a couple suits, but other than that, he had only more casual shirts, pants and a couple jackets.

"No, a business suit will do," Jarrod said. He had already shed the clothing he'd been wearing in the rain for his darker business suit.

"How long do you think your negotiating session will take tomorrow?" Nick asked.

"I don't know," Jarrod said. "You're free to nose around town without me while I'm busy if you like. You can't get into a lot of trouble in the daytime."

"But you can at night, I take it."

Jarrod leveled a serious gaze at him. "This town is rougher than San Francisco, even rougher than New York in places."

"Like where?"

"If I tell you that, you'll go looking for them."

"Not without my big brother to nursemaid me," Nick said with an intentionally lame grin.

Jarrod gave a small laugh. "Watch out for gambling houses at night. Men watch for men who are winning and rob them before they can get to a hack. And don't go thinking you can handle that. Gang activity is nasty sometimes – AND – "

Nick looked up.

"Watch out if you find a lady friend," Jarrod said. "Even if she's on the up and up and not about to rob you, the hotel dicks around here work hard at keeping the good hotels on the straight and narrow. They'll beat you up if you even look like you have a professional girl with you. And if you're a stranger like you are, they'll have a sharper eye on you."

"How much work do you have to do tonight?" Nick asked.

"Not a lot."

"Tell you what. After we have dinner, why don't we find a nice quiet gentlemen's club for an hour or so, and then I'll come back here with you. That way I don't get out of your sight and you won't worry about me."

Jarrod's eyes twinkled for a moment. Nick thinking that Jarrod thought he couldn't handle himself? Not a chance. But Nick was out of his element here. A night of getting him oriented couldn't hurt. "All right," Jarrod said. "Sounds like a plan."

A plan that went haywire fairly quickly. The Blue Parrot was not far away. The rain had stopped, but the streets were still pretty wet and water was dripping down from rooftops above. Jarrod and Nick stepped inside the Blue Parrot and were brushing some water off their jackets when the maître d' met them, looked at them – and slapped Jarrod right across the face.

"Hey!" Nick said and grabbed for him.

"What are you doing here?" the maître d' asked. "I told you never to come here again."

"I'm not Jack Darby," Jarrod said quickly. "Let him go, Nick."

Nick let go as another man came toward them. The new man asked, "Mr. Barkley?"

"Barkley," Jarrod confirmed.

The new man shook his head and said, "Yes, you do look like Darby, but I do remember you, Mr. Barkley. You were here some years ago."

"Mr Fitzsimmons, isn't it? Did LaValle send you a message?" Jarrod asked.

Fitzsimmons nodded. "LaValle said you were coming and vouched for you – but my man here must have forgotten for a moment." He glared at the maître d'.

Both Jarrod and Nick wondered what relationship Darby must have had with this young man who had just slapped Jarrod across the face, but they decided not to think about it. The maître d' said, "My apologies, Monsieur. I did forget. You look so much like Mr. Darby."

"It's all right," Jarrod said, rubbing his jaw, wondering how many more times he was going to get slapped across the face on this visit.

"Come with me," Fitzsimmons said, and Jarrod and Nick followed him to a fine table and gave them menus.

Nick was smirking as they sat down, amused by his older brother being taken for Darby yet again, and by who had slapped him this time.

Fitzsimmons leaned in and said quietly, "Don't read anything into Marcel's reaction to you. He may prefer the company of other men, but Darby doesn't, at least that I know of. Darby does, however, owe Marcel money."

"The great common denominator," Jarrod said.

"Indeed," Fitzsimmons said. "When you're ready to order, I'll have a bottle of our finest French sent to you, my compliments. Enjoy your dinner."

They did, and there was no more trouble about Jarrod being taken as Darby. The Barkley brothers did feel a little uneasy when Marcel gave Jarrod a very pleasant smile when they left. Turning to head for Canal Street, Nick said, "Well, shall we see who's gonna hit you next?"

"I hope it's somebody left-handed so the other side of my face takes the hit for a change," Jarrod said.

When they got to the gentlemen's club on Canal Street, Jarrod was pleased to see a familiar and welcoming face at the door. "Mr. Barkley!" the big doorman said. "Welcome back!"

"It's been a long time, Michael," Jarrod said and tipped the man as he opened the door. "I'm surprised you remember me."

"I try to remember everyone," Michael said, "although you're a bit tougher because there's a fellow around here who looks just like you."

"Jack Darby, I know," Jarrod said. "My cousin. This is my brother, Nick. He looks nothing like me."

"I gotta ask," Nick said, "how did you know my brother wasn't Jack Darby? A lot of other people seem to be having trouble telling them apart."

"I can tell a westerner from a southerner by the way he carries himself," Michael said. "Southern gentlemen can be a bit on the stiff side. Westerners are more relaxed. And I get paid to tell who's coming in the door."

Jarrod pushed up his sleeve and showed the scar on his left arm. "Just in case you ever need to know," he said.

Michael smiled. "If you recall, Mr. Barkley, the last time you were here and you had to rush out, your jacket and tie were off and your sleeves rolled up, and I noticed that scar."

Nick's eyes went wide and the smirk returned. "You had to rush out?"

Jarrod wasn't about to elaborate on that. "In my younger days, Nick," was all he said.

He and Nick went inside, found a seat in the smoking bar, and spent the next hour smoking cigars and savoring brandy. A couple of the ladies who worked here joined them for a few minutes, but only for conversation. For the most part, Jarrod and Nick talked and planned out the next day. Nick wanted to scope out a couple casinos in the daylight while Jarrod was doing the job he came here to do. They also talked about the kind of female companionship they would look for while they were here. Jarrod issued a warning and pointed out that they could buy some "protection" here at the gentleman's club if needed, but he tried to steer Nick toward enjoying the company of women who would not get them into trouble of any kind. "There's a lot of different kinds of trouble to get into in this town if you choose the wrong woman," Jarrod warned.

Nick didn't need further warning. "I'll be careful," he said.

After about an hour, they headed back to their hotel, their bellies full and their heads light with liquor and relaxation. They took a long way back, passing bar after bar, restaurant after restaurant. Jarrod pointed out where some of the gambling houses were, told Nick what he knew about whatever place they passed. Nick was a little surprised, but then felt a little pleased that his Pappy knew as much as he knew. It was good to know Jarrod would kick back every now and then.

There were no more slaps in the face for Jarrod that night, although the Barkley men had to dodge a fight that spilled out of a bar into the street, and when they got back to their hotel, they got a nasty eye from the hotel dick in the lobby. Jarrod noticed, pointed to Nick, and said, "Check with the desk clerk. This is my brother."

The dick kept an eye on them as they went back to their room. Nick shook his head. "This is one sinful town, isn't it?" he asked when they were out of earshot of the dick.

"Isn't it?" Jarrod said.

As soon as they were in their suite, Nick got rid of the necktie and flopped down into an armchair. "Do you think Darby might actually be in town?" he asked.

"I don't know," Jarrod said, loosening his tie but leaving it on. "It seems he's been here recently, but whether he's here now, there's no telling. I don't think Jack lets any grass grow under his feet."

"Considering the trouble he gets in, staying in one place could get him killed."

"Maybe," Jarrod said. "Just as long as it doesn't get me killed. It's nice to know I've got Michael and Fitzsimmons and LaValle convinced of who I really am. Remember where they are if it turns out I need them."

"I better start making a list," Nick said.