When Booker reached Finn's, the men were already prepared for him. Must have tailed him from the apartment. He felt terrible for locking her up all over again, but Booker believed Elizabeth when she promised she wouldn't go outside, although it didn't stop him from worrying. He knew Bill Bob would be straight on any strange face that tried to climb those stairs, but he knew that if the men wanted to get into his apartment, there was no stopping them. They needed to keep believing there was nothing of value up there and he needed to not give them a reason to need to go searching in the first place.
Two men met him at the entrance and silently escorted him to the back room. Three more men awaited him, all sitting around a card game that was in progress. The man he had come to see sat in the middle, flanked by two of his goons. To his distaste, Booker recognised them both. Reimbald sat to the man's left, as stoic and stony as ever. Reimbald was the true muscle. If someone needed to be removed from the face of the Earth, they sent in Reimbald. Peters, a skinny ferret of a man with only every second tooth still in his head sat to his right. When you wanted someone to feel sickening terror, you were sent Peters. Peters was the type of man that not every mob would admit to having. A rabid dog they fed scraps from the table. Feral, but he belonged. Right now he was shooting Booker a gut churning grin and raising his eyebrows to Reimbald in reference to some inside joke that Booker no doubt was the punch line in.
But Booker ignored them. The only man who mattered in this room sat directly across the table, as dead eyed and hateful as Booker had ever seen him.
"Quincy." Booker offered as a greeting.
"Dewitt." The man barked. "I don't like waiting."
"Well, I had no intention of making you wait. Something unexpected came up." Peters let out a high pitched string of chuckles at Booker's comment. Another inside joke, it seemed. "We've got business to attend to here, let's not waste any more time."
"What could be so important that a man would risk his life like this?" Quincy asked, his voice sounding like an axe grinding. Yeah, he wasn't going to let it go so easily. The man loved nothing more than stewing over the slights he suffered and Booker had given him a good one. He couldn't even tell him he was on another job. Quincy would demand his cut of the take and Booker was wholly opposed to any man in this room knowing what Columbia had rewarded him with.
"It's nothing." Booker offered.
"It's always something with you, Dewitt."
"Not any more. I aim to have our business concluded before long. My co operation won't be a problem."
"That'll be the day."
"You have my word."
"Your word means nothing."
The room went silent. Booker briefly considered how well of a chance he stood against these men if it came to it. He didn't like the odds.
"I have realised that I never said these words to you, Dewitt, so here they are. This is your last chance. If you have distractions in your life that inhibit your ability to work for us, we will remove these distractions for you."
"Distractions?"
"Distractions, Dewitt. Pretty...little...dark haired...distractions." Quincy punctuated every word with the throwing down of a card. The man had himself a winning hand. The other men threw their cards face down while their employer collected his takings.
Of course they had taken notice of Elizabeth. He had to stick to his story. Can you do this Booker? Can you talk about Elizabeth like she doesn't matter to you? Is your poker face really that good? They can't know she's your daughter. That's too much leverage for these assholes to know about.
"You do not come to our meeting, and when I send men to watch your house you emerge after five days with a woman half your age. And, Dewitt. I commend your taste, even though I question hers. As a man I understand, if I were you I would still be balls deep in her even as we speak."
Peters let out another string of chuckles and Booker's gut twisted as he realised what he had been smirking about. Peters was the man who followed him yesterday. This skeevy little goon was the one who had seen him with his dear Elizabeth.
'I'll take your eyes out if you look at her for too long,' He seethed quietly.
"But as a businessman," Quincy continued. "and I am nothing if not a businessman first, Mr Dewitt, I have to wonder how serious you are. I am left to question your commitment. You missed a very important meeting, Dewitt, because of this girl. Your philandering is almost legendary, but you never missed a meeting for a piece before. Is she special to you? You couldn't tear yourself away to do your fucking job and at least try to keep yourself alive?"
"She's just some girl." He choked out. I can play along. "You're right. I got carried away."
"Hmm, well, I trust the girl must be realising her mistake. She'll leave soon enough and we can continue our partnership free of any more incidents."
"That sounds fair enough to me." He seethed just under the surface of his indifferent mask. How could he talk about her like this? Just some girl? Fuck you, Booker...
"But...if she doesn't, and we do not...we will take her out of the picture. Peters sure took a liking to her. He'll be happy to oblige, won't you Peters?"
The ferret man let out a high pitched chuckle, leering obscenely at Booker.
I'll kill you all if you lay a finger on her, you piece of shit. I don't care if it gets me killed in the process.
"I doubt she'll be much of a problem." Booker could hear the emotion in his voice, and he wasn't convinced that they didn't hear it too. "Let's just get back to business."
"I admire your newly acquired work ethic, Dewitt. You will need it tomorrow night at ten when you return."
"What's the job?"
"You will find out tomorrow night. Be sure to take good care of her before you leave...you'll be gone most of the night, and you can't have her lying awake wondering where you have gone."
Booker seethed his way out of the bar, making it two blocks before he gave in to his anger and slammed his fist against the wall. He'd had Elizabeth for less than a week, and already she was potentially in trouble with the local mob. He had to keep her hidden, at least for a few weeks. They will keep watching him for a while, he knew that. Maybe after a few successful jobs they would relent and let him go about his business during the day. But for now, he would have to keep Elizabeth under wraps and he hated himself for continuing to confine her.
How is this any better than Comstock, Booker? Hmm? Shit, at least the tower was clean. At least she wouldn't have to hide her food from rats. Fuck. What was he doing? Punching walls won't make this better. That's what old Booker would do. New Booker has to get his ass to the courthouse and find some legitimate work. Sure, Quincy would see and demand a cut, but he could undersell his payment and hopefully not be too worse off.
The courthouse was exactly how he remembered, and Stokehouse was the same pain in the ass to find as he usually was. Stokehouse was a tall, thin man who represented some of the unsavoury elements of New York. It wasn't work he would brag about, but it was legal and he had to start undoing his reputation somewhere. Being hired by an actual lawyer to work within the confines of the law was a start.
He argued with Stokehouse for a while then stormed off. He collected himself and returned for another argument. The end result was Stokehouse agreeing to one small job in a few days time. There was a witness that had gotten himself some attention. Vested interests wanted to keep the man alive, but ignorant. A real police presence was out of the question, so they had to go for the enxt best thing. He had to wait for some more information to come through, but Booker could return at the end of the week. They parted on barely amicable terms.
Booker left the courthouse, but didn't return home right away. After his meeting with Quincy, he wasn't prepared to face Elizabeth just yet. Not after hearing how they spoke of her. He needed to let off some steam for a bit. He needed to calm down. He needed a drink. It was an odd experience, to have someone to come home to. It had been a long time since he felt it. She was there, waiting for him. But she would have to wait. He needed to get the bitter taste out of his mouth.
He strode into the nearest bar and ordered a whiskey, throwing it back and immediately ordering another. Fuck Quincy, Fuck Peters and fuck that silent asshole, Reimbald as well. Sexualising Elizabeth was a very tender wound for him. He could barely handle it when the thoughts popped up on their own, having those assholes chuckle and gloat over her was almost unbearable. She was his fucking daughter, not some god damned fling to be used and discarded. Still, it was lucky that they saw her like that and he knew it. If they really knew how he felt about her...they could control him. Booker Dewitt was well fitted to the life he had been leading purely by virtue of having no one close to him to lose.
Not anymore. Handle it, Booker. Handle their shit until it's over, then never look back. Get a boring fucking job and go home every night to Elizabeth. Until she finds herself a man and leaves. You think she's gonna stay with you forever, huh?. She's gonna up and leave one day, and you'll be alone again. Back to the empty apartment and the crippling loneliness. Not gonna be easy to deal with now that you've had a taste of companionship.
That tiny devil in his head whispered. "Not if she doesn't want to go to another man..."
Booker grimaced as he threw back his second whiskey and gestured for a third. Fuck you, Quincy. Fuck you. He tried to collect himself. This train of thought was headed somewhere he was not prepared to go. The waters between them were muddy right now and those assholes had put these thoughts into his head that were only making it worse.
Anna. Remember Anna? Remember the little baby that you brought home all alone from the hospital? Remember how she cried? Remember how you did nothin to help her stop? Remember all that? Does that make you feel like getting your dick out? Does it, asshole? Remember who she is.
Booker downed his last drink and left his cash on the bar. The barmaid winked at him as he left. In his slightly buzzed state he realised he needed to get laid. Maybe that was it. He only managed to quickly jerk off a couple of times in the washroom since coming back and his last amorous endeavour was with a woman who turned out to be his daughter. That was bound to be messing with him. He needed to replace that memory with another. Is that something a good father does? Satiates his lust with unknown women to keep his mind from wandering somewhere dark with his daughter? He wasn't even sure how he would manage it. The thought of leaving Elizabeth home alone at night so he could chase down a quick lay made him feel like an asshole, but he sure couldn't bring anyone up to the apartment. He supposed it would be normal for him to find a more permanent female companion. Try to find a woman to have a normal relationship with, but he couldn't imagine how that would work. What damaged woman would consent to staying in a one room apartment with a twisted wreck of a man and his strange, adult daughter. No it wouldn't work...he had to focus on Elizabeth first. Throwing a third person into their already complicated family would only end in heartache.
He walked home slowly to wait for his buzz to leave and his anger to subside. Elizabeth could not know what went down today, so he had to be fairly sober when he got home. After all, Stokehouse did come through with some work eventually. He had that to tell her at least, even if he had to leave out a large chunk of his day. Yeah, just tell her about the job. Leave out the part with the mobsters and how they think she's some loose hussy you're foolin around with. Leave out the part where they threatened her. Leave out that they're watching us both.
He had put on his poker face by the time he reached his building. He had even tested it out on Bill Bob, giving him a friendly nod that was barely reciprocated. He had it set in stone right up until he got to his font door and opened it. His first realisation was that the place was clean, but it was quickly overshadowed by the fact that Elizabeth was standing there in that exact fucking dress that Bill Bob's daughter was wearing when she pushed him against a wall and stuck her hand down his pants. When the Roberts girl wore it, she filled it out with an ample bust and a curvy rear. Elizabeth wore it lazily hanging off her petite frame, looking like it would fall off of it's own accord.
He wanted to tear it off her.
"Elizabeth..." He growled, even though he didn't remember making the conscious decision to speak. "Take off that god damned dress."
"Booker...what?" He heard her ask. She had a small smile on her face, but he watched it fade right before his eyes.
"Look...you can't wear that, Elizabeth."
"What...why not?" She looked down at the offending garment in confusion. He couldn't imagine what was going through her head right now. It didn't matter if it hurt, she had to get out of that dress so he could stop remembering what it felt like seductively sliding up and down his body.
"You just can't."
"I don't understand..."
"Jesus, Elizabeth, please?"
Something in his voice must have reached her and told her to let it go. "Fine, I was about to wash up anyway..."
"Thank you...sorry...I uh...it's been a hell of a day..." He walked over to his desk and sat down, his back to Elizabeth as she stood over the basin. He heard the ruffle of clothing and the splashing of water and immediately blocked out the mental images it gave him.
"Did you find any work?" She asked.
"Yeah." He reached into the top drawer and found his cigarettes. "The job starts up tomorrow night."
"That's good news, isn't it?"
"Yeah, it is."
"Then what's wrong?"
Well, see, Daddy went back to see his mob friends who were not at all happy to see him and now he has to keep you confined to this one shitty room for a few weeks to avoid getting you sullied and murdered by a pack of fucking thugs. Also, I have to go out tomorrow night to work for these assholes and I have no idea what new type of sin I am going to have to commit to get me out of the trouble I'm in. Oh, and you're gonna love this part, I had to deny you're even my daughter which I know must be a sore spot for you. Sorry, baby.
"Oh, that courthouse can be a real bitch to get around in. I was in one line or another all day." It was only partially a lie.
"Oh...well, you got the work! That's great!"
"Yeah. It is."
The sun was setting behind him making the room grow dark, but he still saw Elizabeth out of the corner of his eye, reaching over the bed in a blur of smooth, fair skin to grab her nightgown. He felt like an asshole. Yelling at her to take that dress off. What the hell was he thinking? He had to explain it to her. But how? I nearly fucked a girl who wore that dress and I've been having some fairly confusing thoughts all day, so seeing you wear it really made the whole thing worse? Shit...It's been two days, Booker. Two fucking days and you've fucked it up already.
When she appeared in front of him, fully clothed in her long white nightgown he could only smile sheepishly at her. Please don't ask, Baby...
"This place looks great, Elizabeth." He said in lieu of a real apology. "You must have been at it all day."
"Thanks."
"I mean it. Thanks. It was a nice thing to come home to." And so were you. Forgive me?
"I'll get you some dinner." She smiled. Apology accepted.
Neither of them said a word about the incident until after they went to sleep. Only in the dead of night, when she crawled down onto the floor to join him, did it came up again.
"Booker?"
"Hmmm?"
"What was wrong with the dress?"
Answer her this time, asshole. She cleaned up two decades of filth from your apartment today while you were out risking her fucking life. At least tell her why you flew off the handle the second you walked in the door. She deserves to know the truth.
"Baby..." He started. "I can't see you like that..."
"See me like what?"
He sighed and pulled her closer to him. How do you explain this to her? Do you tell her about the Roberts girl? Leave that part out? Should you tell her about the interesting conversations you had today? The mobsters? She should know, it's her right to know if she's in danger. Jesus, just say something.
"Like a woman."
"But I am a woman, Booker. You can't make me hide it. That's not fair. I know you missed out on seeing me as a girl for a long time, but that doesn't mean you can try to force me to remain a child. Too much has happened."
"I know, I know...but I can't see you like that. Look, I'm sorry I went off like that. It wasn't right. I don't want you to stay a child, Elizabeth, but I...can't see you in a certain way. After what we've done..."
She rolled onto her back and looked over at him. God, the way she looked with the moonlight beaming down on her nearly broke him. Sometimes he still saw that naive girl fresh out of her cage, and sometimes he saw a woman who has suffered. A woman who has killed, but never truly loved. Right now he saw a woman who was so beautiful it hurt him to look. Even without her tears and her doors, she was still a goddess.
"But you already have seen me like that, haven't you?"
"Yeah...I guess I have...but I have to stop."
Can you, you old fool? Look at her. Can you ever stop seeing her as the woman who practically climbed you when you made her come? Can you really wipe that memory away? Do you really even want to? He had no choice. He had to.
"Do you know what I mean, Elizabeth?" he continued. "Do you understand?"
"I know that what we did was..inappropriate, considering who we are to each other. But Booker, you need to understand something."
"Elizabeth..."
"No. Listen. I don't have the luxury of experience to hide behind. Booker, you can sweep what we did under the rug with how many other indiscretions? For me...it was the first bit of human contact I can remember. How do you expect me to let go of that?"
"Elizabeth, you have to."
"That's not an option, Booker. And I don't think you should shut it away either."
"We have to try..." For us, Elizabeth. For our family.
"You said it yourself, Booker. We can't wash away what we have done."