Chapter 75

Some days later the gang moved into a more suitable place- a shoddy, outdated sorry excuse of an apartment building. It was miles away from the modern and luxurious hotels they liked to stay in. In the place of luxury was affordability, and this joint was cheap. Not all the doors closed properly and some of the glass in the windows were cracked and broken. Some of the apartments didn't have working electric or water. The gang had chipped in and put their money from the train robbery together then distributed it fairly- as it should have been done all along.

The sum wasn't what any of them expected. Not only did they have to share, they had to compensate for John who didn't like the feeling of living on their handouts. Though still painful, his injury had not become infected or worsened. He was healing, slowly. The space he shared with Billie was one big room containing a table, a mattress, and a few other simple objects. They did not have a working bathroom and had to share one with Red who was on the floor above them.

John had done nothing but sulk since entering the apartment. He had good reason but it wasn't a productive attitude. Billie found that the best distraction was in activity. She tried to stay busy and under their current circumstances this was an easy feat. Billie was becoming more creative in taking care of Clark. She often used discarded boxes found outside of or behind stores for litter. The litter itself was sand and dirt. The cat was fond of Billie and her affection and liked to be near her, but that relationship might have been the only domestic thing about Clark. He ate lizards and mice and countless other things that Billie didn't want to be aware of. When he was outside Clark would disappear from Billie's sight, but it was the cat that always seemed to have his eyes on her. If she moved from a certain spot the kitten would follow, not wanting to be left anywhere entirely.

Billie's next task was organizing a bag of her luggage, sorting the toiletries she and John shared. She also liked to track his medicine so she could fill them before they ever ran out. Amid her task John moved from the bed and reached for one of his bags, Billie not looking his way until he uttered a groan.

He was wincing and clutching his side, the stretch aggravating his wound. "Johnnie," she called lightly, standing and helping him back to the mattress. "Sit, I'll get you what you want."

He moaned again but this time from frustration. He turned his gaze toward the window and gazed out sternly, as if he were scolding something in the distance. "What did you want, John?" she asked again.

He spit out his answer shortly. "Nothing."

Billie had grown to learn that sometimes it was better to ignore comments and let matters lie. When John was upset like this there was no reasoning with him. The best thing to do was to leave him and allow him to work himself out of the foul mood. Sighing heavily Billie did just that, returning to the table and her previous work. All was quiet, John still starring out the window until some minutes later he spoke.

"You must hate taking care of a guy who can't even stand up."

Irritated, Billie let her wrist fall upon the table with an audible thud. Her delicate voice grew stern. "Stop."

John paused but only for a moment. "I can't give you anything anymore," he continued bitterly. "Not a place to live, not even a bathroom for Christ's sake…"

"Stop it."

Hearing the threatening edge to her voice John fought the urge to push her but lost. "Stop what?"

John wanted a confrontation and this attitude was a dangerous one. Billie raised her voice but not to the extent that would play into John's argument. "Stop trying to make me feel guilty for loving you."

Silence.

They had been through these fights before. Billie already knew that living a life of crime aside the public enemy number one was not a wise decision. She wasn't signing up to feel safe or have big houses and three-course meals. She was only there for him, and both of them knew that. She wouldn't argue about it again.

Sensing his defeat John returned his gaze to the window. Billie wasn't mad at him for their horrible apartment or lack of money- John was mad at himself about those things. He already knew Billie didn't want those things from him, he just couldn't stand sitting with his thoughts anymore. Fighting wouldn't fix anything, John was just stubborn and very, very bored.

The quiet in the room continued and eventually Billie glanced up to check on John. He looked miserable. She was almost surprised he hadn't pushed her more, to the point where they exchanged screams, and his awareness of the problem or desire to fix it made her stand up. She went to him, climbing next to him on the bed. She and John were growing out of their typical fights. There were only so many times you could accuse something of something that wasn't even a real issue. They were getting beyond guilt-trips and assumptions- they were tiresome and pointless. Maybe that was why John hadn't even bothered.

Billie touched his chin and made him face her. "Hey," she whispered. "Kiss me."

Slowly John faced her and smoothly leaned in to steal her lips. He took his time and kissed her fully. That was enough to explain everything. He was overwhelmed and looking for reassurance. When they pulled away John remained close and his voice came out almost in whispers.

"I hate it here."

"I know."

"I can't stand it. We have to leave…"

"We will. Soon," Billie tried to say confidently, but she really didn't know when or how.

"Not soon enough," he uttered to himself. John sighed heavily and adverted his eyes, almost reluctantly saying, "I have to do it again."

Billie knew that there was something significant about his words. She let them simmer in her mind before she came to comprehend. With their circumstances the way they were due to the lack of money, John saw his only opportunity of improvement coming from said money. He wanted to do another robbery in the very near future. Billie couldn't help that her face paled and she spoke with a nervous edge to her voice.

"No. No, Johnnie, it's too soon."

She didn't care about the act so much- John Dillinger had robbed banks and he'd do it again and again. Billie didn't want him doing it now because of his injury. He couldn't bend down to pick a pencil off the floor without wincing in pain and taking several seconds to recover. During a robbery he didn't have seconds. He didn't have the time to be hurt; he couldn't afford the risk.

"I have to."

"No," she was cross. "You know you can't."

"Billie," he replied more severely. "I have to. You want out of here, don't you? You want to live without heat, without windows, without a bathroom?"

He starred at her wearily, clearly setting himself around an argument she couldn't refuse. Billie gazed back at him sadly until she finally uttered, "I'd rather have you."

In an attempt to lighten the moment John gave a smile. He leaned forward and kissed her lips, whispering, "I'll be fine."

Billie did not kiss him back but sighed heavily. "That's what you said last time."