Young Offender, Part 25:
"How can such a skinny boy eat so much?" Francoise asked Albert in amazement. Jet smirked at her. She was sitting beside Albert. The German man snorted and shook his head; he was sitting across from Jet in the booth of a crowded, greasy-spoon diner. The German man pushed his half-eaten hamburger and onion-rings aside.
"I wasn't this bad when I was his age," he said to Francoise. "It must be an American thing."
Jet dipped his last onion-ring in ketchup and ate it whole. His eyes were half shutting in ecstasy. After he chewed and swallowed, he smiled at them and said, "It's nice to have real food instead of that stuff you Europeans call food. Frannie! You only took two bites. Eat! You're too skinny, too, you know."
"It's too heavy," she argued. Moments later, a new song called 'The Duke of Earl' started playing on a jukebox in the corner. Jet normally hated the popular, modern do-wop music, but it was a pleasure hearing it now, letting him know he was in New York again.
"Fine, let's go walking around the park. It'll be fun," Jet suggested.
"Are you sure Ivan will be fine?" she asked in a worried tone as she checked Jean-Paul's watch.
"Yeah, Frank will look in during his lunch break. He'll be okay," Jet said.
"Maybe I should get back," Francoise said.
"Aw come, Frannie. Come out with us."
"Jet, I just want to rest some, and I want to check on Ivan. I know I seem nervous, but I'll feel better at the apartment." She did give Jet a smile and a pat on the hand. "Thanks for your invitation. Maybe tomorrow you can take me around New York. I do want to see it."
Albert interrupted, to Jet's irritation, before he could try to badger her more. "We'll walk you home, Francoise, and then I'll walk him around the park and burn off some of his energy."
Albert payed the soda-jerk, and the three of them walked two blocks back to the alleyway where the door to the apartment was located. They bid Francoise farewell and walked towards Central Park. Jet jammed his hands in his jacket pockets and lowered his eyes. Albert walked next to him, but remained quiet for the long walk.
"January in New York is bitter cold. Even I feel it," Albert said, as they crossed the road into the park. "I don't normally feel temperature any longer."
"You know, when we get the money, we need to do something nice for Francoise. She was a real stand up gal with the whole Kitagawa thing."
"Not a bad idea. She seems pretty melancholy. It may cheer her up some," Albert agreed. Jet paused and smiled at Albert just as winter afternoon snow started drifting slowly from the hazy sky. Albert shrugged and said, "We need something to celebrate. Hilda always used to love celebrations. I never was big on them myself." Jet started at Albert's mention of his deceased wife; he had long since let the fact of Albert's marriage slip out of his mind.
"Booze?" Jet asked, flashing a sly smile, hoping to pull away from the Hilda topic. After all, what words could he possible offer to comfort a widower. Not only that, he felt something he couldn't define. It was almost envy, but he wasn't sure. It was too brief.
"If you want."
"Cool. A party would be pretty cool. This is like a change in direction for all of us. I mean, we're really doing something good. All those kids Kitagawa had. I just couldn't believe it!"
"I know. That's what we need to focus on. We're starting down a path, and I want to make sure we have a chance to recover from our past experiences so we can go into the future without regrets. I figured New York would be ideal. We can try to get in touch with Jean-Paul while we're here, and we can analyze world events. Also, spy a little on the Black Ghost via Ivan."
"We'll also have to work in some fun."
Albert shook his head and tugged his coat lapels together against a gust of wind carrying several snow flakes. "Let's get back since the sun is down. I don't want to worry Francoise."
"Yeah, after what happened in Australia..."
"And in Italy," Albert pointed out.
"Yeah, I don't think she wants to be alone too long."
When Jet and Albert got back, Francoise told them that Frank had left a message to come talk with him. Francoise locked the apartment door, and the three of them went around towards the store, avoiding small patches of ice. They walked into the secondhand store; Frank went over and locked the door and pulled a shade.
"I got someone who can handle it," Frank said, rubbing a meaty hand over his bald scalp. "You can give me the cash, and I'll make the arrangements. It'll take about three days."
"That's a lot of money," Albert said. He didn't want to have to start over yet again. He wanted some breathing room that money could afford. The only thing that made him lean towards trusting the heavyset man was wary Jet's willingness ask the man for help.
"Franko is legit. Don't worry about it, Al. We can trust him."
"Fine. What kind of percentage are we looking at?" Albert asked used to haggling in post war Berlin.
"Fifty-fifty split."
"That's pretty steep, considering what we did for it, Frank. Can't you work out a family deal?" Jet asked.
"Sorry, Ernie wants a big cut because this is a first time deal, and it's such a large amount, but I can do something for you. I won't charge you for rent and utilities. At least for... say, six months?"
"We may not stay that long," Jet said. Albert didn't miss the redhead's frustrated tone and tense shoulders.
"Well, we'll figure it up at the end, Jet Boy."
"Deal," Jet said, shaking Frank's hand.
Francoise finished knitting a dark purple scarf and held it up for inspection. She smiled at it and set aside her knitting needles on the coffee table. She check Jean-Paul's pocket watch and felt slightly nervous. Jet and Albert were half an hour late from their meeting with Frank. Today was the day they were to get their money and could be free to leave.
She was going to go check on Ivan when Jet and Albert came walking in. She was surprised to see Albert was carrying a vase of mixed flowers and a bag of groceries. "What is all this for?" Francoise asked.
"Jet thought we should celebrate. We thought you deserved a special thank you for helping with the Kitagawa situation," Albert answered.
"Oh you shouldn't have," she said, delighted, taking the flowers. She gave Albert a quick hug and peck on the cheek. "Thank you so much."
"Hey, I have cake," Jet said, holding out a pink box.
"I can't believe you two remembered!" she said, stunned, as tears started welling up.
"It's just a cake, Frannie."
"I mean, it was two weeks ago, and we were so busy, but for you two to make a point of remembering my birthday is wonderful." Francoise placed the vase on the coffee table. She took the cake box and grocery bag from her two male compatriots that had identical stupefied expressions. She paused and gave them a critical look. "You didn't remember, did you?"
She set the cake down, and put her hands on her hips as they traded looks, confused about what to do. Slowly Jet and Albert started snickering; they both collapsed on the couch and shook their heads.
"Sorry, Francoise. This was a coincidence. I wish I could say I did remember, but I'm useless as far as those things go. I've spent plenty of nights on couches for forgetting those sorts of things," Albert admitted. Jet was now laughing full force.
"Well, I didn't forget someone's birthday." Francoise grabbed the new, purple scarf. She stalked over to Jet, wrapped it around his throat with three loops, and yanked the ends. Jet playfully swatted her away, and he examined the ends.
"What's this?"
"It's your birthday present a week early."
She saw him pause as if wondering what to do next. She was afraid he didn't like it, but he finally looked pleased. "Hey, it's cool. Thanks, Francoise."
"You're welcome. How about some dinner? Then we could talk about our plans. We have the money?" Francoise asked.
"Yep. Franko came through for us."
"Good. Albert, set the table while Jet and I get the food together."
"That was a great meal, Frannie." Jet leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. He slid his lighter across the table to Albert, who did the same.
"I wish you two wouldn't smoke in here. It's too small a space and smell is horrible."
"But it's so cold," Jet pointed out.
"Well, at least cut back," she said. "And I was thinking. We'll stay here until the end of February, and then maybe go back to France? I really want to check on Jean-Paul."
"That sounds fine, but I want to see if there are any Merchants of Death to hit in New York before we leave," Albert said.
"Aw, just when my homesickness was leaving," Jet teased. Francoise looked as if she were about nag him, but he said, "Don't worry, I know we have to stay on the move."
She looked mollified and nodded. "I figured you could go visit your parents. I'll invite them over for your birthday, and we can get to know them."
Jet felt his stomach clench and every muscle in his body get tight. "No," he said in spite of his dry mouth.
"Quit being such a child. Your parents will be so happy, and I'm sure you really miss them. Once you see them, you'll forgive the past and be grateful to rebuild your connection with them. You shouldn't waste this opportunity."
"Stay out of it! And do not get around my parents! I mean it! I don't want to see those monsters again!"
"How could you even talk about the people who gave you life like that! It's appalling! You're so lucky to still have them around! You need to go mend things with them!"
"Keep to yourself, sister! You don't know what the hell you're talking about!" Jet felt his face grow hot as she glared at him.
"Francoise, it should be Jet's choice if he wants to see his parents again. He has reasons he hasn't discussed with us, and you would do well to respect them."
Albert's calm, almost patronizing tone riled Jet even more. "Don't speak for me, old man!"
Albert frowned at him, but remained silent. Francoise jumped out of her chair, still glaring at him. "You're nothing but a child! I'm sure your parents were justified with as difficult as you are!" She paled and stared at him, wide-eyed; she knew she'd gone too far. Rather than say something he'd regret, Jet stormed out of the apartment after grabbing his coat.
He slammed the door and ran into the cold, snowy night, not even conscious of a direction. He ran down the streets familiar to him, the ones he grew up on. Snow fell, so he was confident he'd be alone. He finally got to a sheltered bus-stop and flopped on the bench. He forced his breathing to get even as he slumped over, elbows on knees.
He had no idea how long he had been sitting on the bench. Long enough for him to feel chilled to his enhanced bones and see his breath come out in white puffs. He focused on his anger. He knew he really wasn't angry with Francoise; he was really jealous of how she grew up. He doubted her parents, or Jean-Paul, acted like his parents.
Underneath it all, there was still anger at his parents. He knew the other guys in his gang would also get the occasional cuff on the head from their folks, but he also knew not many of them went through some of the evenings he had with volatile, alcoholic parents. Even when his mother got the gumption to leave his father, it wouldn't be long before she'd come back. Sometimes she took Jet; mostly, she left him behind. It depended on what would irritate his father the most; then, his father would take it out on him, either way.
He shivered as he pushed aside one memory of a belt slapping across his face. He pushed up the cuff of his coat and realized there were no more little, round burn scars on his skin. The Black Ghost had taken those away and put deeper ones under his skin. Suddenly, what his parents had done created questions instead of an instant, hostile reaction.
His brow furrowed as he tried to understand his parents' actions. It mixed with Kitagawa and all those little children's tear-stained faces turned up at him when he and Francoise went to let them go. What kind of person could cause those tears?
He shivered and decided he needed to go back and patch things up with Francoise. He understood she cared about his well-being, even if she didn't understand what he'd been through. He just had to find a way to get her to lay off, but not tell her details of what he had lived through. Shame made his face hot all over again as he rose to his feet and started wandering around.
A slight movement between buildings caught his eye. He lifted his chin and squared his slumping shoulders. He heard some shuffling behind him.
"Well, look at who didn't take my advice and decided to show back up."
Jet swirled around and saw Mario standing behind him. What made Jet nervous was seeing Paul and Gino at either side. He worked up a glare as Mario tapped the end of a baseball bat against his left hand. Snowflakes fluttered down on Mario under the conic streetlight glow, each flake sparkling. Paul had a length of pine two-by-four, and Gino flicked his blade out; they both stood in the dark outside of the streetlight. Jet could see they all had rage in their eyes.
More shuffling happened behind Jet. He glanced over his shoulder to see Carlos and Stevie in the dim light. They each had thick chains and looked ready to fight. Jet took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. He knew he absolutely had to keep his cybernization a secret if they had turned against him; protecting Ivan, Francoise, and Albert from anything his former gang may say in retaliation was first on Jet's mind.
He forced a chuckle and crossed his arms. His hand tugged slightly at the purple scarf around his neck, then he dropped his hands to his hips. "So, Mario, you come out to rumble? Thought you'd be too old for that. Last I heard, you two morons..." He gestured towards Gino and Paul, "were doing a nickel at Reikers. Did they let you out for good behavior?" Jet saw his mocking tone enraged the pair. He hoped to get the edge on them by getting them irrational; he knew there was nothing he was going to say to change their mind from trying to beat him to a pulp.
"Thanks to you, Sal, Tom, and Jake are dead. If you wouldn't have killed that Puerto Rican, we wouldn't have been popped," Gino said, pointing the end of his two-by-four at Jet's nose.
"Hey, that thing you pulled with the dame down the street was your fault. Oh look! Mario looks surprised. I called from Italy, and he told me what happened. So how did you find me, anyway?"
"Grandma was watching you for half an hour at the bus-stop while I called the guys and got the old gang together. That obnoxious hair color tags you as old lady Licursi's kid," Mario answered.
"We were fine until you killed that Puerto Rican! We're all that's left! You destroyed what we had!" Gino shouted.
"So where is Rick and Howie?" Jet asked, acting lackadaisical, suppressing his burning curiosity.
"Rick found straight work and wouldn't come out when I called, and Howie got hitched to some dame he knocked up," Mario answered with narrowed eyes. Jet kept his expression blank, but the news about Howie was a surprise. Jet knew he had a little more interest in girls than Howie, and that was saying a great deal.
He shook his head slightly and smirked at Mario. "You want to rumble? Fine! Let's go. Just you and me. You always ran your mouth. Let see what a toughie you are," Jet said.
Mario pointed the top of his baseball bat towards the alleyway. "Get your ass in there, Jet, so I can beat it like a cheep rug."
"You wish," Jet said, walking towards the alleyway. He wasn't afraid of his former gang. He could get away easily, or he could easily get the upper-hand on them, but he had to do this as a normal person, not a cyborg. He had to prove to himself he could stand up to them and honestly get "jumped out" by his gang, so he could put them in his past.
He walked into the dark alleyways and sent the signals to the electronic part of his brain; he shut off all of his cyborg advantages and reduced his power by eighty percent. Now he was on equal footing with them, normal people. He turned to see Gino and Paul cover one side of the alleyway while Stevie and Carlos covered the other side. Jet shrugged off his coat and raised his fists.
"Come on, tough man! Give me what you got!" Jet shouted.
Mario raised the baseball bat and lunged at him. Jet's adrenaline flared, and he felt totally alive. Jet dodged and sank his right fist into Mario's side. Mario gasped and swirled with great difficulty.
"I'll slice you open for that."
"Try it," Jet growled and tensed for the next charge.
To be continued.