Young Offender, Part 24:
"So what do we do now?" Francoise asked.
"I know just the person who can help us out! Come on," Jet said, starting to leave the alleyway. His excitement was high; it came down when Albert grabbed his elbow.
"Our uniforms," Albert pointed out.
"Aw, people will think we're in some band or something. They'll leave us alone," Jet said. "Hey! Let's see how much bread we scored."
Albert held the bag out and opened it. Jet peeked in, and his eyes grew wide as saucers. "We hit the big time. That's more money than I've ever seen in my life."
"Me too," Albert agreed in German and tied up the sack again. "Let's get some clothes and get off the street."
"Cool." Jet lead them down the street. He read the street signs and smirked. "Good job, Ivan. My old neighborhood?"
"I read your mind," Ivan replied weakly. Jet looked at him and grew concerned. The young looking teen appeared pale and shaky.
"Are you okay?"
"I need to sleep soon."
"Clothes and food. Then we crash," Jet said. He lead them three blocks to a set of buildings. He yanked open the door to a secondhand shop he knew well.
"Hey, Gianni! Long time, no see," a pudgy, balding man called out from behind the counter. Jet felt his face grow blazing hot at hearing his actual, given name. He glanced at Albert, who gave him a raised eyebrow and wicked smirk.
"You mean we have the same name?" Ivan asked. Jet felt his face get hotter.
"We do not have the same name! Don't even say that! Jet is my name!"
"What?" Francoise asked looking baffled.
"Gianni and Ivan both have the same meaning as the name 'John'," Albert explained. Jet couldn't help but glare.
"It's Jet! Not Gianni or John. Cut it out," Jet snapped and turned to the the counter worker.
"Wait a minute! Jet, you mean you, my brother, and Ivan all really have the same name? And wait a minute! All that time in Italy and you always went by a nick-name? We've been calling you 'Jet' for a year and a half, and you never gave a clue it was a nick-name," Francoise babbled with wide, aqua eyes and clear amusement. He swirled around and glared at the cough that came with a smirk from Albert. Jet hung his head when Albert doubled over laughing. Ivan kept snickering, while Francoise looked even more amused.
Jet flushed at remembering his attraction to Jean-Paul; and it only irritated him more to realize, in some strange way, they had the same given name. It made him feel even more awkward. He glowered at the trio and turned back to the pudgy, bald man.
"Hey, Frank, I need a few favors," Jet mumbled to the man.
"Fine with me, Gianni Alessandro Licursi," the man said, picking up on the teasing.
Jet got even more furious, hearing his whole birth name instead of 'Jet Link,' his Americanized, adopted name. But, that's what he got for walking in the store of his mother's cousin, Frank. Still, his options were few. "Hey, who are your friends, by the way? Did you run off and join some sort of a band? Guy and Antonia were pretty pissed off you ran away."
"Some strange things have happened to me." Jet stiffened at hearing his parents' names.
"What? A year and half and you don't call your folks? I heard you called Marky all the way from Italy. Is that where you've been?"
"That jerk has a big mouth." Jet sighed, and figured he'd have to cover. "I've been a lot of places, but I really need some quick help, and it needs to be kept a big secret. Even from my folks. My friends and I need some clothes, food, and place to crash for a couple of days. The biggest favor we need is dealing with something that's hot."
"Oh, my son got popped last month for fencing. Depends on what it is."
"Actually, laundering is the more accurate term, Franko," Jet said.
"How much?" the man asked, his eyes darted suspiciously to Francoise, Albert, and Ivan.
"I count close to half a million. There's more," Albert answered. Frank's eyes bulged.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa there, Jet-boy. No wonder you don't want me to tell your old lady. You hit the big time somehow?"
"You could say that. Can you handle it?"
"I can't, but I know who can. Probably take a few days," Frank murmured. He shook the stunned expression off his face. He looked over at Francoise, Albert, and Ivan again. "Listen, pick the racks for what ever you want." He waved his pudgy hand toward two, rickety clothing racks between the dilapidated shelves. "Second hand clothing don't go so well, so take anything you want, on the house."
Jet watched his three fellow cyborgs wander around the dusty second hand store, and then he turned back to Frank. "Did Mark explain what happened that night?"
Frank nodded, looking grim. "It was self-defense? The other kid was going to knife you first?"
"It was mutual, but I really regret what happened. Something really horrible happened to me right afterwards."
"You aren't wanted by the cops, if that's what you're asking. You know they have too much on their plate to deal with, but you should know that, considering your old man is one. Hey, no one from your gang finked on you, but uh... that's not good for you if you run into them."
"At least I won't have the cops trying to bust my chops, but I've got bigger problems than that. Listen, there is a huge cut for you if you don't let my folks or anyone else know about us."
He leaned over to Jet and asked, "Aren't they foreign?"
"They're all European." Jet knew his three companions were going to raise questions even in New York.
"That man is a lot older than the crowd you run with. And I've never really seen you include girls in you gang. What's going on?"
"I can't tell you because you wouldn't believe me anyway. We've been through hell over the last year and half."
"I'm starting to think you didn't run away that night."
"You're right. It wasn't my choice. Now, I'm stuck in a situation," Jet said.
Frank leaned over and watched the floor. Jet looked over to where he was watching Francoise hold up a dress. She turned and reach to the top shelf for a pair of shoes; Jet noticed that the skirt on her uniform rose, showing a tantalizing bit of thigh. Frank said, "I'd like to be stuck in your situation."
Jet took a deep breath and jerked his own eyes from the slight show Francoise was unaware of. "Trust me, you wouldn't."
"She's a looker. Is she your girl?"
"Frank, how about food and a place to stay?" Jet said. Frank looked at Jet again in annoyance. "Fine. You all can crash at the apartment in the back until we get the money situation settled. The door to the apartment is out back in the alleyway. It only has two bedrooms, though. There are some canned goods, but you got to come upstairs for Josie's home cooking."
"Don't even tell Josie. We'll eat whatever is out back."
"Fine." Frank got a huge keyring out of his pocket. He unfastened one and handed it to Jet as Albert came walking up with a bunch of clothes draped over his arm.
"How long do you think he'll be out?" Jet asked after Francoise closed the door on the tiny room beside a rundown kitchenette.
"At least ten days he told me. By then, I hope we'll have the money situation sorted out."
"Should. Frank is a good guy. He'll help me out," Jet said, pouring her a cup of coffee as she joined him and Albert at the kitchenette's table. Jet's brow furrowed. "I used to crash at his place when I was a kid. Just sometimes. You know. When things wouldn't be so choice at home." Jet forced his expression to brighten. "Tomorrow I want to get the biggest hamburger and thickest shake I can find. Then I want to just walk in a park. It'll be so cool."
"Well, I think I need to take a shower and rest up," Francoise said. She rose and asked, "Is it okay?" Jet and Albert looked to where she pointed, the only other bedroom.
Jet felt a smile creep to his face as his mind raced with several, half-formed, risqué responses. Albert spoke first, shooting him a nasty look, "Of course, Francoise. Go ahead."
"Thanks," she stumbled off to the bathroom in between the bedroom doors after gathering her night clothes and a robe she had found at Frank's shop.
"What?" Jet asked Albert, after giving him a mock innocent shrug.
"Do I even even need to dignify that with a response?"
"No," Jet said, starting to fiddle with a spoon on the table. "I was just going to tease her."
"Please don't. She's too tired, and I'd let her snap your neck," Albert replied, draining his mug. He smirked. "Come on. Let's get some sleep, too."
"Hey, good thing we found a second couch in the shop. I'd hate to see you have to sack out on the hardwood floor," Jet teased, while grabbing the end of a couch.
Albert gripped the other end and moved it to face the other rundown couch, only a coffee table separated them. "If that were the case, I'd suggest we draw cards again."
Jet couldn't repress his glower at the memory of the French apartment they had shared. "I'm a lot taller than you. You should have let me have the bed."
"I'm a lot older than you. I though you should be kind to my old bones."
"Oh... you aren't that much older! And it's not like your have your real bones anyway!"
Jet was surprised to see Albert looked taken off guard. "Does that mean you'll stop referring to me like I'm ancient?"
"I only did that at first." Jet smirked, flopping on his couch. Albert sat on his own, facing Jet. "Hey, what did you want to do after we get the laundered cash?"
"I don't know yet, but I want to stay here. There are probably Black Ghost agents here we could hit."
"Wow, you really are into doing this?"
"I'm committed," Albert answered in a dry tone.
Jet sat up, leaned foreword, and nodded, not able to repress his smile. "So am I. It's kind of like the James Brothers, or Ma Barker and her gang, or Bonnie and Clyde."
Albert laughed. "I don't think Francoise would want to be compared to a criminal."
"I wouldn't, and don't do it again," Francoise said, walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head and bundled in a robe.
Jet laughed. "Aw come on, Frannie."
She shook her head and went to her bedroom. After she slammed the door, he turned back to Albert. "Like I said before..."
"I think you've ran your mouth too much today. Let's get some sleep."
"Fine," Jet said, stretching out on the couch. Albert turned the lights off, and Jet heard him settle on the couch across the way. "Hey, Al?" he whispered.
"Hun?"
"Thanks for having Ivan bring us to New York. I owe you one," Jet said in hushed, sloppy German.
"You owe me nothing. Get some rest," Albert replied in soft English.
Jet settle back and caught his breath while he tried to peer at the ceiling through the inky darkness. He wanted to confront Albert and get in his face. Everyone wanted something. That was the way all of his experiences with people worked. His mind went back to when Albert had said "I'm proud of you." For someone to offer him kindness for nothing stunned him like those words.
Now, he found sleep impossible; the excitement of being in the Big Apple again, along with Albert's words, kept his mind spinning until three am. It was long after he could hear Albert's even breathing.
To be continued.