Chapter 13 – All In

It was a bright and sunny summer morning when Cheshire Bloom and his companion strolled into the Union City branch of First National Bank.

There was no mistaking him, with his honey-blonde hair, impeccably-tailored plaid waistcoat, and sing-song salutations. His reputation had been stretching across the river for months, with all manner of civil and civilian employees put on their guard. The man alongside him, though not instantly recognizable, was no less impressive: massively built, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest, a look of smug mischief in his face. They took a sweep of the office and zeroed in on a young clerk, who was making the mistake of staring openly at them.

“Good morning!” Cheshire Bloom extended his hand across the desk, and the clerk shook it without thinking. “I’m sure you can help me, though you’ll hate to do it. I’m here to close my account.”

The clerk gaped back at him. “You’re Cheshire Bloom.”

“Ha! I get that a lot.” He looked to his companion with a smirk. “Do you think it’s the hat?”

“Must be,” the man replied. “Because I sure want to arrest you for wearing it.”

They laughed, the clerk looking on in bewilderment, before carrying on. “No, really, I’m Sam Quaid,” said Cheshire Bloom. He pulled a crisp, folded collection of papers out of the inside of his waistcoat. “Here’s my employee card, and my most recent account statement. That should be plenty for identification, don’t you think?”

The clerk accepted both documents and looked them over. He could feel sweat trickle down the back of his neck as the tellers cast glances in their direction. Nothing about either document appeared out of place, with proper signatures and letterheads intact. The clerk studied them anyway, then their owner, praying that if he stalled long enough the bank manager would become suspicious and come to his rescue. He’d read the papers after all—he knew a man like this was far out of his league, and dangerous to cross.

“You said you’d like to…close your account?” the clerk stammered.

“Yes, that’s what I said. I have investments to make with that money.” Cheshire Bloom gave him a few moments longer, still smiling pleasantly. “Do you need to call my employer to verify?”

The big man smirked as if looking forward to it. With his manager still at the other end of the office, pretending not to notice, the clerk had no choice but to take a deep breath and say, “No, Mr. Quaid, I’ll have that for you in just a moment.”

Cheshire and Herb managed to keep the bulk of their humor in check until after they had left the bank, a fat envelope tucked under Cheshire’s arm. “You sly piece of shit,” Herb said once they were out on the sidewalk, and they laughed all the way to Cheshire’s car.

“It’s really not as hard as you’d think,” Cheshire said as they sped back toward Manhattan with the windows down. “No one wants to rock the boat. If you’re confident and prepared, you can get anything.” He cast Herb a sidelong smirk. “Don’t tell me you haven’t done it yourself.”

“My smile doesn’t work as well,” replied Herb, digging into his pockets. “The knuckle crack, on the other hand, never fails.”

Cheshire gave a short bark of laughter. “Oh really? Didn’t work on me.”

“Those pearly whites of yours didn’t work on me, either,” Herb shot back. He pulled a cigarette out of its case. “Guess that makes us each other’s weakness. Got a light?”

“You know I do.”

They stopped in traffic waiting for the bridge, and Cheshire turned toward Herb. With a flick of his wrist…he pulled a matchbook out of the band around his hat and tossed it over.

“Fucking tease,” Herb scolded, shaking his head. He lit his cigarette and then threw the rest of the matches out the window out of spite. “You’re a goddamned disappointment, Chesh. To me and your ancestors.” He laughed, and Cheshire did, too, despite his impulse to cringe.

After a lengthy drive full of similar humor, the pair of them pulled up to a handsome, red-bricked building in Greenpoint. With construction complete only a few lines of fencing remained of the endeavor, in the process of being removed even as they strolled up. Herb whistled as he snuffed his cigarette out on the sidewalk, admiring the large windows and broad foyer.

“We only just started taking offers at the first of the month,” Cheshire said as he led Herb to the elevators, “and we’re already eighty-five percent full! Some of that is our own people, granted, but for the most part it’s regular folks. Reputable, even.”

“For the most part,” Herb repeated skeptically. “It’s a very pretty little building, I’ll give you that. What’d they end up naming it? Something Downs?”

They entered the elevator, and Cheshire pressed the button for the top floor. “What’s on the deed doesn’t matter. Who wants to live in a building called ‘downs’? Heights, that’s the ticket.” Cheshire waggled his finger, letting his fervor that had been wasted on Kasper slip free. “Moreton Heights, now doesn’t that sound sophisticated? Makes a fella feel like he’s moving up in the world.”

“Sure, Chesh, sure,” said Herb, humoring him. “Moreton Heights in my heart.” He crossed his finger over his chest.

They stepped out of the elevator into the penthouse floor, one long hallway stretching out with only a single door on either side. “Saved the best for ourselves, of course,” Cheshire continued to tour-guide, leading Herb to the door on the left. “This is where the real magic is happening.”

He let them into a broad, open apartment, hardwood floors and floor-to-ceiling windows on the river-facing side. It made for a pretty view, but the water wasn’t what demanded immediate attention: though fully furnished as an upscale dwelling, Kozlow’s workers were treating every inch as a workspace. Papers and envelopes covered every available table, sorted into clearly divided piles. Gertie and her sisters were hard at work in the dining room, sorting and labeling, reading off names and addresses to each other. Another group had set up around a coffee table, asking each other for bank stationary as if playing at cards. Everyone offered Cheshire a smile and a nod as he and his guest passed. In a far corner of the living space, great big mail sacks lay sagging and nearly empty.

“It’s taken a long time to go through it all,” Cheshire admitted as he continued to lead an amused and, he hoped, impressed Herb through the apartment. “But we were methodical, that’s for sure. Most of it we forwarded on to keep people none the wise—after opening it up, of course. Gertie there found a way to reseal the envelopes that you can’t hardly tell.”

Herb whistled again. “So, what did you end up with? More than Mr. Quaid’s banking records.”

“Names, addresses, bank records,” Cheshire replied, ticking them off on his fingers. “Bills, invoices, bearer bonds, employee cards, licenses. Even a will or two. Still working on how to get a payoff on those.”

He opened the door to the bedroom, where even more workers were tapping away at typewriters overlooking the balcony. “A name and an address is all you need, really,” Cheshire said, accepting a finished paper from one of them. “It was Burke’s idea.”

Herb read the letter, nodding along. Cheshire no longer had to only hope he was impressed. “Patty Iglet’s Police Charity,” he said. “Are you for real?”

“Doesn’t it look real?”

“It does.” Herb laughed and slapped him on the back so hard he might have tumbled over if he hadn’t braced himself. It didn’t take knowing Herb long to learn to prepare for that. “Really damn real, in fact. You’re seriously getting people to just send you their money, huh? To help coppers catch you?”

“It’s poetic,” Cheshire insisted. “Ironic.”

“It’s psychotic, and I love it.” Herb handed the letter back to the worker. “What else you got?”

The last stop was the study. Cheshire opened the door to a curt, “I’m busy!” from Burke seated behind the desk, surrounded by even more papers and envelopes. His sleeves were bunched around his elbows and he had a pencil and a pen poised in either ear. He startled when he finally glanced up and saw who had entered. “Mr. Masterson?” His expression contorted through a few hesitant options before settling on mostly forced casualness. “Hold on, I’ve got it here,” he said as he began moving papers around.

“Burke’s been doing a bang-up job,” Cheshire said cheerily to cover up the time. He tossed the envelope from the bank onto one of Burke’s already tilting piles. “We’ve got a few fake charities in the works, so we can switch them out before the coppers catch wind to any of them. And now that we’ve got a system, there are plenty of other ways for us to get lists of names and addresses that aren’t as flashy as robbing a mail car.” He sighed. “Though to be honest I wish I could take a stab at one myself this time.”

Burke at last offered up an envelope, which Herb happily accepted. His eyes widened as he peeked inside and saw the numbers on the check. “For me?”

“It’s your fifty percent,” said Cheshire, managing to stay on the more pleasant side of smug. “Like I promised.”

Herb considered that a moment and then once again burst out laughing. He snatched up Burke’s hand and pumped it vigorously before doing the same for Cheshire. “Chesh, you’re really something,” he said as they stepped back outside the office. “Your ancestors may still think you’re a failure, but mine are coming around. This is good! Real good.”

“Glad you think so, Herb.” Cheshire leaned back, hoping Herb would read only easy confidence, and not the deep relief. “It’s been a lot of work, but you have to agree, it’s worth it.”

“I have to, I have to.” Herb tucked the envelope with the check into his shirt pocket and frowned abruptly. “The little guy in there ain’t still scared of me, is he?”

Cheshire raised an eyebrow. Hoping it was the right move, he replied, “Well Herb, you did threaten to blow his head off a while back. Kid’s got a good memory.”

Herb pursed his lips, and after a thoughtful moment he turned back toward the office. Cheshire’s heart skipped but there wasn’t time to stop him, if stopping him was even the smartest option. By the time he could regret saying something,

Herb had already twisted the door open and was leaning in. “Hey,” he said. “It’s Eggy, right? We’re on the same side now, so lighten up.”

Burke blinked at him owlishly. “What?”

“Lighten up,” Herb repeated. “No more being scared of me, got it?”

Burke turned red and straightened up behind his desk. “Who the hell says I am?” he snapped back.

“Better!” said Herb, and he leaned back out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Cheshire relaxed. “Well done,” he teased. “I’m sure that did the trick.”

A wicked smirk flashed across Herb’s face. “I couldn’t help myself,” he admitted, and he pushed on Cheshire’s shoulder to turn them back the way they’d come. “Is that it, then?”

Cheshire allowed himself to be prodded. “One last thing.”

He let them into the second of the top floor apartments—just as lavishly decorated as its twin, though lacking in bustling workers and mail fraud. No expense had been spared on the hand-crafted furniture and white crown moulding, the expansive dining table and liquor cabinet. Herb took it all in again with a keen and interested eye, and as they finished on the balcony overlooking the river, he abruptly said, “Perfect. We’ll do it here.”

“Hm?” Cheshire leaned his elbows against the rail, smiling to himself. Herb was a lot to handle even for him, but it couldn’t staunch the pride he held for what they’d accomplished on what was supposed to be a simple pet project. “Do what?”

“Lucky’s going to be entertaining some guests,” said Herb, and Cheshire’s ears perked. “Local and less so. Some of them don’t like the idea of meeting at the Thrones, so I’ve been looking for a more neutral venue.”

“Well, gee,” said Cheshire, his lip quirking. “I can’t imagine why.”

“What, you’re holding a grudge, too?” Herb scoffed loudly. “Christ, you Europeans are sensitive.”

Cheshire chuckled but didn’t bother trying to correct him. “Herb, friend, of course you can borrow the penthouse. I’ll make it shine like The Olivier.” He straightened up again, ready to set his mind to business once more. “When’ll it be?”

“Tonight,” said Herb, and he watched for Cheshire’s reaction.

To his credit, Cheshire remained outwardly very calm. “Tonight?” He chuckled some more. “It’s already eleven, how can I even hire a caterer in that time?”

“Everything’s already lined up,” said Herb, and Cheshire’s pulse kicked up as he realized that he was truly serious. “I’ll just throw our staff in the back of a van. You’ve got two full kitchens here and plenty of help. Dinner at eight. Easy as pie.”

“Booze?” Cheshire asked, his mind starting to reel. “Entertainment?”

“I’m sure you can handle it.” Herb continued to watch him closely, something sharp in his expression. “You can handle it, right, Cheshire Bloom?”

Cheshire managed not to squirm despite his discomfort. He’d dealt with plenty of big personalities in his time at Kozlow, but generally they weren’t clever or patient enough to administer tests. Even if there was only one right answer he hated the invisible pressure of all of Manhattan against his back. He flashed Herb a bright smile. “And then some.”

“Perfect! Then I’ll just borrow a phone and—”

“But I’ll need a favor back,” Cheshire interrupted. “You’re gonna owe me for this.”

“Ha! Nice try.” Herb wagged his finger at him. “This is a favor all right, from me to you. You want to be on the nice with these people, believe me. You’ll be thanking me tomorrow.” Cheshire made a face, not willing to give up that easily.

“Yeah, all right. But I’ll still be sending you an invoice. Fifty-

fifty of everything, like we agreed.”

“You’re not cute,” said Herb. “You know that, right?” But he relented, and they shook on it.

Cheshire gave him use of one of the upper rooms and then hurried to begin the preparations. Telling Burke came first, and once he got the profanity out of the way he took it like a champ, springing to action. “I can get us the liquor,” he said. “And round up the troops to at least make sure the place is clean enough. The rest is you.”

“I’m on it,” Cheshire assured him. “I’m going to run back to my apartment and make some calls, then I’ll be back.”

“I know ye’re just going back for the jacket that matches that vest, then,” Burke called after him. “I’ll be here working while you do!”

Cheshire all but skipped down the sidewalk and across the street to his own building. He had no idea what manner of guests Camila would be hosting and how best to entertain them, whether it be music, gambling, something more audacious? Herb was enough of a mystery himself, let alone his nearly silent partner. He flicked through the different options and even climbed the stairs to his floor just because the movement made it easier to think. As he let himself into his apartment he was already planning which numbers to dial first—after retrieving his matching jacket—only to be halted in his tracks.

The balcony door was open, and beyond it, Jakub leaned against the rail, looking out toward the river. He glanced over his shoulder at Cheshire’s entry and looked like a bona fide piece of art: the slope of his spine; the gleam of summer sunlight on his profile; the easy, almost inviting tilt of his eyebrows. Jakub had snuck into the apartment plenty of times, but coming home to him waiting was still a new enough occurance to put butterflies in Cheshire’s stomach. It somehow felt ridiculous but also right at the same time.

Cheshire grinned openly as he crossed the room, and seeing his intentions, Jakub hurried away from the balcony. What there was to be embarrassed about several stories up, Cheshire couldn’t fathom, but he slowed his pace enough that they were safely within the apartment by the time they came together in a kiss. Cheshire cupped his cheeks and Jakub melted into him, warm and eager.

A year ago, it would have seemed impossible. Even six months ago he would have expected a bit more resistance, had even practiced at suaving his way through the layers. Jakub’s upturned face made him squirm, and a funny little impulse bubbled up. “Hey, Jake. Do you think I’m cute?”

Jakub blushed and his brow creased. That was more familiar. “You don’t need me to tell you.”

“No, but, you could.” Cheshire brushed his thumbs against Jakub’s high cheekbones. “I think you’re cute.”

Jakub ducked away shyly, which was adorable, and he eased Cheshire’s hands off him, which was less good, despite being exactly his intention. With a little more distance between them it was easier to breathe. “Don’t be stupid,” Jakub muttered, sweeping his hair back with his left hand.

The light from the balcony caught on Jakub’s prosthetic, and Cheshire noticed a shadow in the outside of his forearm. He frowned and considered leaving it be, but then found himself commenting anyway. “Is that the same spot from the train…?”

“Oh.” Jakub looked down at his arm as if only just remembering: the metal plate was still dented from the botched train robbery. Jakub had never fessed up entirely to how it had happened, and the thought that it had been a bullet had kept Cheshire up the night afterward. “Yeah. It’s not hurting anything. I can hammer it straight once I get around to taking the plate off.” The subtle twitch at the corner of his eye suggested he wasn’t keen on the idea, but he didn’t give Cheshire time to pry. “How did it go with Masterson?”

Cheshire leaned back. He still felt silly and a little anxious for some reason, and he shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting. “It went fine! Almost eight hundred dollars in that account. And Herb—” He paled suddenly, everything rushing back. “Shit, I gotta get a move on!”

“What?” Jakub followed a few paces behind as Cheshire hurried into the bedroom in search of his suit coat. “What’s the matter?”

“Herb laid a real whopper on me,” Cheshire explained as he pawed through his closet. “He wants to host Lucky and some of her big shots at the Morey, tonight. He said he’s sending over their chefs but who knows if we can trust him!” He finally located the champagne suit coat to match his ensemble, though was then off again to hunt out an appropriate pocket square. “Burke is handling the booze, but hors d’oeuvres, music, company? If I’m lucky Grace and her band will bail me out this once…”

Jakub watched him scamper around the room. “What do you need me to do?”

“Oh? Oh!” Cheshire finished fussing with his attire and turned back. “Come back across the street with me. I can handle making the calls, but Burke will probably need help rallying the troops.” He smirked. “They’re a lot more productive with you around.”

Jakub folded his arms, making Cheshire’s point for him beautifully. “If you say so.”

Cheshire grabbed up his book of phone numbers, and the two of them left the building together. It really was a beautiful day, bright sun and a cool breeze, with a night that promised to be full of energy if nothing else. As they stepped out onto the sidewalk, Cheshire again felt a foolish instinct flutter up through his chest. “Hey, Jakub,” he said before he could stop himself. “We’re, like…going steady. Right?”

Jakub straightened up, tense and staring forward. “What do you mean?”

“You know, it means…” Cheshire shrugged. Why was he suddenly so nervous? He shoved his hands into his pockets again. “Means we’re not sleeping around, with other people. You know?”

“Why, do you have someone in mind?”

Uh-oh. Cheshire glanced to him and gulped; Jakub’s expression hadn’t changed, exactly, but his eyes were hard and he still stared straight ahead. “No,” Cheshire said quickly. “Of course not.” He chuckled, nerves getting the better of him. “You’re over so much, how would I even find the time? Let alone the stamina.”

“I’ll give you your key back,” Jakub replied coldly, “if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“What?” Cheshire began to sweat through his new ensemble. “No, I’m not—hell, Jakub.” They were getting close to the building, and he knew there would be no getting another word out of Jakub once there were other people around. In desperation he took Jakub’s elbow to tug him to a halt. “Hold on, that’s not what I—”

Jakub pulled free, but he did stop, and he stared back at Cheshire hard and unblinking, so unnaturally still that Cheshire regretted having said anything at all. They stood awkwardly for a moment as Cheshire struggled, determined to put every word in the right order this time. “There’s no one else,” he said. “And I’m…I’m happy with that. If you are.” He cringed as new doubt squirmed through him. “Unless you—”

“No,” Jakub said, his face red. “There’s…I’m fine. With how things are, I mean. Just us.”

“Okay.” Cheshire let out a long breath and then shook himself, chuckling to dispel the tension. “Sure, okay. Sorry, just figured I’d ask.”

Jakub continued to stare back at him, making him feel all over again like a cornered mouse. “Okay.” He looked away suddenly, posture growing tense again. “I’ll still give you the key back, if you—”

“No, no, please.” Though it didn’t feel like the wisest decision, Cheshire threw his arm around Jakub’s shoulders and began leading them back on their path to the building. “I want you to have it. I like coming home and finding you there.”

Jakub’s shoulders remained stiff beneath Cheshire’s arm. “You’re sure?”

“Of course!” Cheshire continued to laugh, so eager to be rid of the anxiety he’d caused he felt nauseated. “This is going to be a long night, so you better stay over when it’s done. I’ll need your help scraping Burke off the floor by morning.”

“Okay,” said Jakub, and finally, thank goodness, he began to relax. “If you say so.”

***

They split up from the elevator, Cheshire stepping off at a lower floor to check on Herb while Jakub continued to the penthouses. As soon as the doors closed behind Cheshire’s grin, Jakub sank against the elevator wall, his knees nearly jelly. Lucky, that Cheshire had insisted on the elevator having a handrail to lean against.

Why would he ask that now? Jakub thought, over and over, as he arranged and rearranged his hair as if that would make him more presentable somehow. Who’s going to be here tonight? Once a few breaths had calmed him down enough to focus, he started the elevator up toward the top floor. Has he been thinking about it that much? There has to be a reason.

The elevator reached its destination, but Jakub didn’t exit right away. He replayed the entire exchange in his head, trying to remember every exact word and tone and expression on Cheshire’s face. There was so much to question and wonder about that it left him dizzy, and his heart wouldn’t stop pounding. But above it all…Cheshire hadn’t called it off.

They’d been at it for almost a year, after all—the longest Jakub had known Cheshire to court anyone. He had been expecting and dreading it all to come to an end eventually. Why wouldn’t it? But he took a deep breath, reminding himself of the most important part.

He said he likes having me there. Jakub smothered a tiny smile against the inside of his palm and then forced himself to at last abandon the safety of the elevator. He wants me to come over tonight.

Jakub sought out Burke, who was zipping between the two penthouses organizing the preparation efforts. He was only too happy to follow Burke’s marching orders and pass tasks on as necessary. Cheshire had been right—it was going to be a long night, even more so with the promise of Cheshire’s apartment waiting afterward, and he wanted to be through with all of it as quickly as possible. His fervor did wonders for their efficiency.

He said there’s no one else, Jakub thought, his intensity scaring off some of Gertie’s younger helpers as he put fresh polish to the dining room table in vigorous circles. He just wants me. His cheeks burned happily all afternoon.

The Manhattan chefs arrived, along with a slew of Camila’s workers. They were serious and efficient, particularly the silver-haired Nicole that had once held a gun to his head. The two of them shared a silent nod of understanding to put it behind them.

Grace showed up later with her bandmates in tow. She made a big deal of the favor she was doing as Cheshire led her around the penthouse by the elbow, showing off the venue. “I honestly don’t know who’s coming,” he told her, Jakub listening in as he transferred his energy into rearranging the chairs more times than necessary. “So start with the quieter, classy stuff and we’ll feel them out, go from there.”

“I’ve done this a time or two, you know,” Grace retorted playfully. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

She turned away as Cheshire continued to speculate about their guests and spotted Jakub. Their eyes met, and she squinted at him for a moment, curiously. Jakub went back to his chairs, his ears hot—she had never paid him much attention in the past, and him her, and he didn’t want her to catch him staring. But as she and Cheshire crossed back across the apartment, she steered them into the dining room and offered him a smile.

“Hi, Jakub,” she said pleasantly enough. “It’s been a while.”

“Hello, Grace.” Jakub straightened up awkwardly.

Cheshire was giving off a panicked grin and it put him on his guard. “Thanks for agreeing to help us out on such short notice.”

“A paying gig is never an imposition,” Grace replied. “Let me know if you have any requests tonight—I’ll sneak one in.”

“…Sure.” Jakub glanced between her and Cheshire—she was too polite and his entire face was crooked. “I will.”

She knows, Jakub thought suddenly, the mismatch in their demeanors clicking into place. His gaze hardened on Cheshire, who flinched beneath the unspoken accusation in confirmation.

“She’s a real sport!” Cheshire declared, tightening his arm around Grace’s elbow. “Isn’t she? C’mon, let’s get the rest of the band settled.”

He started to turn away, but Jakub was already too keyed up from the conversation earlier to let him get away that easily. “When you’re done, I need you here,” he said.

Cheshire gulped and was thwarted in his escape when Grace slid free from him. “You can have him now,” she told Jakub cheerily. “I can handle my own crew.” She cast a smile between them. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“O-Oh, okay!” Cheshire watched her go as if she were a life preserver being carried away on rolling waves, and once she was out of range he turned to Jakub with an apologetic wince. “She’s not going to tell anyone.”

“Cheshire,” Jakub said crossly. His face was hot but there were so many people still moving about the apartment— some theirs, some strangers—and he couldn’t trust himself to say more than that without drawing attention.

“It’s fine,” Cheshire assured him. His hands lifted and then hesitated; Jakub’s shoulders hitched, both wanting and dreading that instinctual contact Cheshire always seemed to go for. The two of them shifted awkwardly. “Really, who would she tell? Barney?” He scoffed. “He wouldn’t believe her even if she did. Everything’s fine.”

“Okay.” Jakub let his breath out. “Sorry.”

“No, sorry, I…” Cheshire laughed, making everything even more normal. “Gosh, are we something today? I need a drink.”

“Me, too,” Jakub agreed. He was already exhausted, but his attempts to let the anxiety drain off just weren’t landing— he could still hear Grace moving about the apartment, directing her peers into the space. Even though he believed she could be trusted, the thought of anyone knowing the secret he’d clung to for years clenched his stomach against his ribs. “There’d better be whiskey at the end of this.”

“I’ve got a bottle stashed at my place,” Cheshire promised, winking. “You’re doing great work—I’ll see you later!”

He hurried off again, and Jakub sighed. Just keep at it, he told himself, arranging the chairs one final time. It’ll be over  soon  enough,  and  then  you’ll  go  back  together  and  fool around and fall asleep. And everything will be back to normal by morning.

His fingers fumbled around the back of the chair, and one side hit the ground with a thump. Jakub took a moment to work his prosthetic and get his coordination back, and he couldn’t help but glance to the dent in his forearm.

If the bullet had damaged any of the mechanisms, it would have caused much more noticeable problems in the last several weeks. It was only a cosmetic flaw, and he could hammer it out at any time. He was just nervous. There was no reason to open it up. It was the nerves.

Jakub tugged the winding key out of his back pocket and gave it a few twists in his wrist just to make sure he had enough tension to last the evening, and afterward he snuck into the kitchen. Gertie was setting out bottles of booze. She’d cracked open one of the vodkas herself already, and the two of them each stole a shot, just to settle down. Then he plowed on again, seeking out Burke for more orders.

Camila herself arrived just before six. Despite the warm summer she was dressed head to toe, her blouse buttoned to her neck, her skirt reaching her toes. Her dark hair was piled high in meticulous curls. She made a full sweep of the apartment without saying a word and then seated herself in the living room as if claiming territory. Herb brought her a drink without being prompted.

“It’s cozy,” she said, which seemed to Jakub the best praise they could have hoped for.

Everyone not well-dressed enough to serve dinner was herded into the next apartment. Despite the papers and sacks strewn about, everyone managed to find a place to sit or stand, speculating over the guests for the evening and whether they’d be allowed to pick over the leftovers and booze. Jakub took it upon himself to stand at the door, holding at bay the looky-loos and dragging inside any wayward goons that hadn’t gotten the hint.

More importantly, it gave him an unobstructed view of the elevator. The first of Camila’s guests to arrive, guided by an exuberant Cheshire, was a man Jakub did not recognize: a tall, ashy-haired gentleman, with full lips and a handsome smile. Three men with strong builds accompanied him, though only one was allowed into the penthouse. Hired muscle, apparently. Jakub caught the remaining pair’s attention and waved them over.

“You can wait with us here until they’re finished,” he offered, and luckily Gertie was nearby to offer them a less stoney-faced invitation. Jakub heard her ask where they were from as they found sitting room with some of the older Kozlow boys near the fireplace.

“Chicago,” said one proudly. “South side.” They immediately became the center of attention.

A Chicago gang? Jakub thought, wracking his brain for what small scraps of news he’d picked up from the national papers. When Cheshire passed by again, heading toward the elevator to ferry the next guest, Jakub caught his arm. “Chicago?” he said, eyebrows raised.

“I know!” Cheshire grinned excitedly. “I need to have a word with that Herb—he was holding out on me.” Laughing, he hurried on.

The rest of the guests filtered in, depositing “the help” along the way—some also from Chicago, some from Manhattan, Union City, and Boston. Jakub was starting to worry if they’d have room for much more when the elevator opened one last time, and out stepped much more familiar arrivals: Kasper, Barney, and Hannah, Cheshire making a face alongside.

Jakub froze. He had been so caught up with getting everything ready for Cheshire’s sake, it hadn’t occurred to him that their boss ought to be made aware of the impromptu event, and his first instinct was to expect a scolding. By the time he realized they were there as guests, Kasper had stopped in front of him.

“There you are,” he said, and he motioned Jakub out of the doorway. He eyed Jakub’s crinkled button-down. “You’re not really dressed for this, are you.”

“I didn’t know I should be,” Jakub admitted.

“I’d lend you something,” Cheshire offered, and the thought threatened to make Jakub blush again, “but I don’t know how much it would help.”

“He’s fine,” said Barney. He was more dressed up than usual himself, in a dark suit coat and a brimmed hat instead of his cap. “Let’s go, Jakub, before the Jersey boys drink everything.”

Jakub stepped forward, baffled—even more so when he realized Hannah was taking his position at the door. “How long have you known about this? I didn’t hear until this morning.”

“We’ll discuss that later,” said Kasper. He depended heavily on his cane as he led the way into the penthouse. “Just keep your ears open.”

Barney followed after, then Jakub. The interior already looked very differently than it had during the preparations, with candles lit, windows shaded from the evening sun, Grace’s band plucking away at a slow jazz number. Camila and her guests were milling about in spatters of conversation and drinks. Jakub smoothed his shirt as best he could and looked to Cheshire. “Do you know what’s really going on?” he asked.

“Not exactly, but I have a few guesses.” Cheshire smirked with mischief, but then Kasper stopped and turned toward them.

“Not you,” he said.

Cheshire halted. Jakub wasn’t sure he even understood what Kasper had said until he saw the smile drain completely out of Cheshire’s face, and a sick feeling clenched in his stomach. “Sir?” he said, hoping they’d misheard or misinterpreted.

“Jakub stays,” said Kasper, continuing to stare at Cheshire with cold disdain. “We’ll call for you if you’re needed.” For a beat, Cheshire was completely blank, though

Jakub could see his gloved hands curl to fists. A few faces from deeper in the apartment looked toward them, including Burke near the bar and a curious Herb. Jakub burned as he tried to think of some way to interject. Then Cheshire took a breath and the grin snapped back into place. “Right, of course,” he said brightly. “I’ll be right across the hall.”

“Wait,” said Jakub, his chest tight. He looked to Kasper, but seeing that he and Barney were already moving away, he turned back to Cheshire. “Chesh, don’t—”

“It’s okay,” Cheshire reassured him with a smile that didn’t quite reach into his eyes. “You can tell me all about it later.” He gave Jakub a clap on the shoulder and showed himself out.

Jakub clenched his jaws. It took him a moment to convince himself to continue inside, and by then Herb was at his shoulder, startling him.

“What’s up with Bloom?” Herb asked, jerking his thumb at the door. “Stagefright?”

“Uninvited,” said Jakub, struggling to sound neutral.

The dry twist of Herb’s lip suggested he already figured as much. He clapped Jakub on the back, harder and much less welcome than Cheshire, and steered Jakub deeper into the room. “I’ll save him a lambchop,” he said. “Come on, Freckles—I’ll introduce you around.” Jakub grimaced but couldn’t refuse.

***

Cheshire closed the door behind him and then leaned back against it. He could have sworn the room hummed against his shoulder blades, and for a moment it put a tremble in his knees. He felt heavy and too warm in the champagne-gold suit, and the weight pulsed behind his throat. He didn’t even know at first what name to put to the emotion.

“Bloom,” said Hannah, watching him from the opposite doorway. “Don’t take it personally.”

Cheshire huffed out a laugh. “Oh, don’t worry,” he said, letting that indescribable burn harden into a much easier to dissect frustration. “I’m not.”

He crossed the hall, and though reluctant, Hannah stepped further inside to make way for him. Cheshire moved to the center of the apartment and whistled loudly to gather everyone’s attention. Curious eyes turned his way—low-rung gangsters of different genders, sizes, and temperaments, but all with one thing in common.

“All right all’a ya,” called Cheshire, grin plastered across his face. “We all know this isn’t the prettier of the two rooms, but I’ll be damned if we don’t have the better time while we’re stuck in it. Booze and chow are on the way, and I know one of you can bang something half decent out on that fancy piano. So have at it!”

The room cheered approval, and with a whoop of his own Cheshire moved to the liquor cabinet. It wasn’t the best stock, but once dinner across the hall was underway he’d be sure to swipe a few of the fancier labels from their bar.

“Bloom,” Hannah said under her breath as she leaned in beside him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m entertaining our guests!” He pulled out a few bottles to place in the nearest outstretched hands. “Look at the muscle in here—we’re one ‘my boss can beat up your boss’ away from a brawl. So let’s just keep them happy.”

“Alcohol is not going to help that,” Hannah protested. “Sure it will.” Cheshire passed her a bottle of whiskey.

“Have a drink, Hannah, lighten up. We’ve both earned it.”

Hannah made a face, but then with a deep breath she uncorked the bottle and took a swig. “I’m going to tell the boss this was your idea.”

“Please do,” Cheshire quipped, and he turned back to the crowd, determined to find some ears aching for a story.

***

Jakub had no clue what to do with himself. He allowed Herb to lead him around the room, introducing him to Camila’s guests and their associates, just like Cheshire would have if he’d been there. As he should have been there to do. Jakub greeted each with as much civility as he could muster, given that his insides were still squirming with sympathetic fury for the unwarranted ejection. It wasn’t until he was shaking hands with the tall blonde gentleman that had been first to arrive that he was finally able to pay attention.

“Angelo Passerini,” the man introduced himself, the smooth baritone of his voice much deeper than Jakub had expected from his gentle appearance. “You’re local here, isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir.” He recognized the name—the Passerini were a powerful family in Chicago, and the largest and most organized bootleggers in the country. “I’m one of Kozlow’s.”

Angelo clearly had never heard of them, but he was gracious enough to smile charmingly as if he had. “Oh, yes. It’s good to meet you—and thank you for helping to arrange this evening. It’s very exciting, to put faces to all the names we’ve been reading about in the papers.”

His gaze flickered about the room briefly, giving the distinct impression he was looking for one face in particular. “Someone I can help you find?” Herb asked, eyebrows raised.

“Well, there’s a rumor I was hoping to confirm while I’m here,” said Angelo, a smile playing at his lips that reminded Jakub of Cheshire. “That one of your New York friends might be a witch.”

Jakub swallowed. He could just hear the fiendish curl in Cheshire’s warm chuckle as he toyed with a reply to that. But it was Herb’s biting laugh that answered, and Jakub couldn’t keep himself from hating him for it.

“If you find a witch while you’re here, you let me know,” said Herb jovially. “Because other than the Kozlow whiskey—” he thumped Jakub hard on the back, “—I haven’t seen one spark of magic around these parts.”

Angelo chuckled, not believing him. “I certainly will.

And in the meantime, I’ll gladly try the whiskey.”

Herb cast Jakub a look that rang distinctly of hop to it. Jakub felt gears in his arm twitch, reminding him of the subtle dent in his forearm. “I’ll be right back,” he said, listening to Herb sing the whiskey’s praise as he headed swiftly back across the apartment to the kitchen.

Burke, despite his mismatched jacket and tie, had found himself in the role of bartender, and he muttered under his breath as he poured a glass for Jakub. “What’s up the boss’ arse anyway? Why keep Bloom outt’a this?”

“He’s trying to save face after the mail train,” Jakub supposed. He glanced back at the guests and spotted Kasper and Barney speaking to two men near the windows: a wiry, hard- angled older man with very pale skin, and a younger Latino man in glasses beside him. They all seemed to be nodding and agreeing with each other over something—Barney might have even grinned. “It would be hard for anyone to stand out with Cheshire around.”

“You mean, hard for Barney not to make a fool’a himself if Bloom is heating his seat?” Burke sighed with disgust. He began scratching notes onto a pad of paper he’d set on a small table behind him. “Well, fine, then. If it forces the kid to man up an inch, that’s good for us, yeah? Bloom gets it.”

Jakub remembered the heart-wrenching blankness that had fallen over Cheshire’s face when told he had to leave. He had to dig his thumb into the inside of his elbow to get his prosthetic fingers to loosen out of a fist. “Pour me something,” he said.

Burke raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment as he poured Jakub a glass as well. “Let me know if you hear any gossip,” he said. “I’m keeping notes.” He nodded toward Kasper and Barney with their companions. “That over there is Chicago’s North End Boss, O’Shea, and his money-man, Efrain Granada. Got the boss excited about some race track they’re after.” He snorted. “Well we ain’t about to be racing dogs in a Brooklyn basement, and if they think we’re gonna be fighting them, either, best they have another think lined up behind that one. Dirtier business than I want a part of.”

Jakub frowned as he watched the four men converse. Kasper had never warmed up to the idea of cooperating with other gangs and families, so he must have seen some extra appeal to be entertaining O’Shea at all. It made him nervous. “I’ll keep an eye on them,” he said distractedly.

“Please do,” said Burke. “Let me know if you pick up any other morsels, a’right?”

“All right.” Chicago has heard about Cheshire’s magic wasn’t something he wanted in writing, not if it was getting back to Kasper and Barney, so Jakub scooped up both glasses and headed back. His was empty by the time he handed Angelo the other.

Herb called the assembly to order soon after, and everyone found seats around the dining room table. Camila took the head, as was expected, Herb at her right. A stout, barrel- chested Italian man claimed the first seat on her left, and he and Herb glared smiles at each other in tense familiarity. As the rest of the table filled out, Kasper contented himself with the opposite end, Barney and Jakub on either side. The first course was served, and after Herb gave a short but enthusiastic toast the meal began. Only after everyone had finished their soup and polite small talk did he at last bring them all to business.

“Now that no one’s starving, it’s time to talk about why we’re really here,” he said, while gangsters in hastily pressed waistcoats traded out the empty bowls for plates dressed in lamb chops and vegetables. “We’re all business people of a certain caliber. It took a lot of time and hard work to get here, sometimes at each other’s expense.” His gaze darted to the man across from him, who returned it with a grimace. “But it’s about time we all worked a little less hard, don’t you think?”

“You mean, how’s about we all stay the hell outta your way?” said the man opposite him. “Or we end up like Lucky?” His mustache curled when he snarled, and Jakub suddenly remembered the man from one of Cheshire’s “briefings”: Gallo Napoliello, one of the late Lucce’s top fixers.

Herb waved his hand dismissively. “We’re not here to talk about the past. This is future business, here.”

“We don’t have future business with you,” spoke up O’Shea. “Not unless you can answer the question.”

A few others around the table nodded and muttered in agreement. Herb eyed them with disappointment. “We didn’t call you all here to make threats, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said. He laughed. “If that were the case we’d all be eating a cheaper cut, believe me.”

“Then I think it’s time you stated your point a bit more clearly, Mr. Masterson,” said Angelo, folding his hands against the table. “Or better yet, let Ms. Reynoso speak for herself, since she is the one that invited us here.”

Herb’s brow hardened, but he didn’t look irritated; there was a hint of protective instinct in the expression that Jakub felt he recognized. All eyes turned to “Lucky” Camila Reynoso. She had been calmly eating during the talk and did not look up right away, though she was clearly aware of their close scrutiny. At last she took a deep breath and lifted her head.

“I want us to be like politicians,” she said, and mixed reactions circulated the table. Her shoulders crept up; she seemed honestly shy about their continued focus on her, and Jakub felt a pang of empathy. “Next year is an election year. Everyone will have favors to ask. Senators will ask governors, mayors will ask ministers. It’s how the system works. I want us to have a system.”

“Allies,” Herb clarified for her, leaning forward against the table. “Like us and our Kozlow friends across the river. Independant, but when there’s something we can help each other with, we do.” He lifted his glass to Kozlow. “Like this dinner.”

Jakub glanced to Kasper. If Cheshire had been there, he could have charmed them through the exchange with ease, negotiating just as he had when they were at their most desperate. But Kasper stared back at Herb with heavy-lidded disdain, Barney beside him too confident for anyone’s good. He dreaded having no choice but to sit back and watch.

“If you’re going to use us as an example, the rest of your guests might as well know how our partnership first came about,” said Kasper. “With a gun to my son’s head.”

Eyebrows went up around the table, particularly from the out-of-towners. Napoliello grunted with righteous vindication. Herb’s smile sharpened but he refused to abandon his humor as he gulped down his drink and then sighed loudly. “I think they’d be just as interested to know why,” he replied. “But like I said, this isn’t about the past.”

“You ‘spect anyone at this table to accept you as a partner after the shit you’ve pulled?” Napoliello insisted aggressively. “After what you did to Lucky?”

Before Herb could reply, the Harlem boss—known only as Big Mitts—cleared their throat. “He’s right,” they said, continuing to gnaw through the lamb chop. “We want to know what happened with the real Lucky.”

“Well all do,” agreed O’Shea, and everyone nodded and murmured along. Beside him, Efrain Granada adjusted his glasses and stared down into his lap. They were close enough that Jakub could see he was scribbling notes into a small, leatherbound journal, just like Burke.

“As if all of you wouldn’t—or haven’t—done the same,” Herb retorted, but then Camila tugged on his elbow, and he quickly fell quiet.

Camila took another moment to compose herself before speaking up beneath the watchful eyes. “I killed him,” she said, and then she paused to take in a deep breath. “I cut his throat with a razor, and then I cut as much of him as I could. Then Herbert helped me chop him into little pieces, and we went to the cinema.” Her eyes flicked along the table as she dipped her chin, as if missing her furs. “I just wanted him to know I didn’t belong to him anymore.”

The table went silent. Big Mitts stopped eating and even Napoliello bit his lip. After a few beats Camila nudged her glass toward Herb, and without a word he filled it with whiskey. She sucked it down.

Then O’Shea, the Irishman from Chicago, cleared his

throat and gruffly asked, “Did Kozlow’s boy rough you up, too?”

Barney stiffened, his eyes bulging as everyone’s attention swiveled. Jakub grimaced and looked at Kasper, but the boss didn’t react. That didn’t stop the rest of the table.

“O’Shea, please,” said Angelo crossly.

“Whatever tryst she had with Lecce has nothing to do with the rest of us,” O’Shea retorted impatiently. Efrain eyed him as he spoke, his pen stilled. “But that didn’t stop her from interfering with Kozlow’s business, and it won’t stop her from interfering with ours if we go along with this ‘politician’ nonsense.”

Big Mitts let their silverware hit the plate with a clatter. “You all wanted to know the score with Lucky, and now we know. It’s not hard to understand.”

“No, he’s right.” Napoliello regained all his steam as he sat up taller in his chair. “We’re talking business, now. Who’s to say all this fancy dinner crap isn’t cheese in a trap. We’ve got no reason to cooperate with this woman.”

Jakub sank deeper into his chair as the rest of the assembly fell to argument. Herb poured himself another drink, his expression easy as if unaffected by the commotion, but Jakub could see Camila’s hand tight around his wrist. Cheshire should be here, he thought for perhaps the hundredth time, cringing as Barney joined in to agree with O’Shea. He’d laugh and find a way to calm everyone down. He looked to Kasper and found himself angry with how firm and unmoved the man was by the entire affair. Does he really not understand that Barney is only alive because of Cheshire?

“Sir,” he said, rallying his courage. “We can’t make an enemy out of Manhattan.”

“We’re not,” Kasper assured, drumming his fingers against the table. He seemed satisfied with the tension he had caused. “She just needs to know we don’t belong to her.” He cast Jakub a sideways look. “Like she said.”

Jakub clenched his teeth, but he didn’t know how to express his disgust with so much consternation already sizzling around them. I shouldn’t have let him push Cheshire out. The fingers of his left hand clicked against his knee. Everything about this was a mistake.

Herb put both hands to the table and stood, with such force that a few of the dishes closest to him rattled. “Fair enough!” he declared, tempered frustration in the grin he flashed them all. “Fair enough—you have your…concerns. But you’re missing the bigger picture, here.” He gestured as he spoke, and for a moment his eyes went to Jakub, giving him the distinct impression that he had been hoping for Cheshire’s attendance, too. “Prohibition is ending, folks. When the country goes wet again, our profits are going dry. To the pigs this is their last chance to collar us—we’ve already got feds sniffing around.”

He shot a look to each of the guests in turn. “Pretty soon you’re not going to have to worry about me cutting you up into little pieces, ‘cause the flat foots’ll be the ones hacking your bits off, I guarantee it.”

“Begging your pardon, Mr. Masterson,” said Angelo with an almost fatherly patience, “but my wife has already secured the cooperation of our local and federal law enforcement back home. I can’t speak for the room, but I suspect in all our cases you’ll have to make a better offer than that.”

A few of the smaller-town thugs pulled faces—not everyone was as well-connected as Chicago’s South Side Passerini Mafia, and some appeared tempted by Herb’s overtures even if they were loath to admit it. Even Gallo Napoliello chewed at his mustache a moment before his brow suddenly hardened.

“You can’t do nothing ‘bout the feds anyway,” he accused, swinging the mood again. “Ye’re all talk, and nobody knows it better’n me, Masterson.”

Herb flexed his fist, the dull crack of his knuckles clearly audible through the room—Napoliello flinched back and braced himself. But then Herb was smiling again. “Fair enough!” he repeated, loudly, and he thumped back into his chair. He went straight back to eating, and the rest of the table looked on, confused.

“Is that it?” asked Big Mitts as Camila, too, resumed her meal.

“Got anything else to add?” said Herb. He wasn’t quite as skilled at covering up his irritation with mirth as Cheshire, his knife cutting harder than necessary through the lamb.

“No.” Mitts reached for their glass. “I guess not.”

“I invited you all here to make an offer,” said Camila without looking up. “If you don’t accept, let’s at least enjoy the rest of the dinner.”

Napoliello regarded each of them cautiously as the meal slowly resumed around them. “Fair enough,” he said at last, and he helped himself to more drink.

The band started back up, and Jakub turned in his chair in time to see Burke whisper something in Grace’s ear. She nodded, and once her cue came started into a slow-tempo ballad to help calm the room. Burke shared a nod as he passed back toward the bar, his eyes a little frazzled. Jakub felt the same.

“You see?” said Kasper, and Jakub reined his focus in. “Manhattan doesn’t have as many teeth as they’d like us to think.”

Jakub didn’t know how to answer, only to realize a moment later that he wasn’t expected to—Kasper was speaking to O’Shea and his partner. “I’m not surprised,” O’Shea was saying. “This new generation doesn’t understand how those ‘systems’ came to be in the first place: not just connections, but family.”

“Family,” Kasper agreed. He squeezed the back of Barney’s neck, who puffed himself up, but his eyes were on Jakub. “Isn’t that right, Jakub?”

Jakub imagined the weight of Kasper’s hand against the back of his neck and his skin crawled. “Yes, sir.”

Dinner continued, and with the band, the booze, and a lavish dessert the mood of the room gradually improved. Once Herb had recovered from his petulance he was back to the charming host, eager to regale their guests with more tales of their Manhattan lifestyle. When the meal was through, no one was eager to be the first to leave, instead relaxing about the table and the apartment, smoking and enjoying Grace’s singing.

The tension didn’t evaporate entirely, however. Jakub could still sense pockets of conversation about the room dancing around the subject, feeling each other out to try and determine who, if anyone, was interested in Camila’s proposal. Who had favors to barter. Who had a throat that needed cutting. When Jakub had an opening to leave Kasper’s side, he headed for Burke. He accepted another drink and longed for an arm draped across his shoulders.

“What do you think he’d’a done if he’d been here for that, then?” Burke asked, leaning his elbows against the bar. “Hard to imagine him convincing the ornery ones, but maybe…”

Jakub scanned the room. What would Cheshire do if he came in now, knowing how it went? His attention slipped to Herb, who was guffawing at something Angelo’s muscle had said, slapping him heartily on the back. He made a face and instead focused on Camila near the balcony door, who was speaking with Efrain. Maybe that’s what he’d do, he thought, and he downed his shot, letting the liquor give him courage.

Camila and Efrain were speaking in Spanish, not bothering to quiet as Jakub approached. Once they had finished they looked to him, and Jakub almost lost his nerve. But someone had to say it, and if Cheshire wasn’t there to do it himself…

“Ms. Reynoso,” said Jakub, “I just want you to know that despite the scene at dinner, we’re not unhappy with our arrangement with you and Mr. Masterson.”

Camila and Efrain shared a look that Jakub couldn’t interpret at first. “The old men are very stubborn,” said Camila, “and the young men come to apologize for them. It makes me hopeful for the future.”

Jakub hadn’t entirely meant it as an apology for Kasper, considering Barney really had been threatened at gunpoint, but he wasn’t about to correct her. “Me, too,” he said.

“There are ways we can cooperate without an all out alliance,” added Efrain, adjusting his glasses. “We were hearing earlier about your efforts into a variety of mail fraud schemes that all sound promising.”

Heat flared across the back of Jakub’s neck, and his eyes darted to Kasper, then Herb. Is one of them taking credit for Cheshire’s idea? “It’s all thanks to Bloom,” he said, probably too loudly. He still felt guilty about not saying more when Cheshire was being kicked out, and the drink made it easier for that frustration to spring forward. “He and Burke have done good work.”

Camila ducked slightly into her shoulders. “And where is Bloom? Everyone wants to meet the witch.”

She and Efrain looked to Jakub expectantly, but he had no idea how to respond, or how Cheshire would have wanted him to respond. To be coy and excite their curiosity? To deny outright to protect the secret? He wasn’t skilled in either case and wanted only to be rid of their company—of the entire room, of Herb’s obnoxious bleating and Kasper scheming with the too-similar O’Shea, of all the doublespeak and arrogance.

“I’m going to check on him,” Jakub said, and without waiting one moment longer he turned and strode straight out of the penthouse.

It was easier to breathe in the hallway. Jakub slicked his hair back and found it sweaty, and he wished he was back on Cheshire’s balcony that morning, full of anticipation and energy. Now his head was hot and spinning, and he didn’t know if he could place more blame on the alcohol or the company. Why can’t this night just be over? he thought, undoing the first few buttons of his shirt.

A muffled cheer echoed out of the next room, and Jakub’s heart gave a thump. Then he was moving again, hurrying into the second penthouse.

The atmosphere could not have been more different. The various gangsters were moving from room to room, laughing and smoking, passing bottles to each other. In the kitchen some were taking turns trying to roll a lime across the table into a row of cups. In the parlor the coffee table had been overturned to serve as a catch for dice, and in the bedroom an inebriated blonde had captivated a group of suitors with lines of dirty poetry. A duo at the piano plucked out a jaunty, meandering duet. And in the sitting room just off the balcony Cheshire entertained the largest pocket of rambunctious guests: they were playing a round of poker, laughing and jostling all the while, betting not with dollar bills but envelopes full of other people’s mail.

“No trying to read the addresses!” Cheshire scolded, slapping playfully at the hands of the man next to him as he tried turning an envelope over. “The mystery is half the fun!”

They laughed together drunkenly, and for nearly a full minute Jakub could only stare. Cheshire was fully in his element and all the more striking for it: hair mussed beneath his hat, jacket strewn behind him, tie loose and sleeves rolled. He sat at the head of their impromptu gambling circle, the center of attention, grinning ear to ear as if he hadn’t stopped for hours and never would. When he looked up and spotted Jakub, his face lit up with excitement that had Jakub blushing down to his toes. No one but Cheshire had ever looked at him that way, and it was terrifying, and he hoped he never stopped.

“Jakub?” Hannah touched his elbow, tugging him toward her as if she’d been trying to get his attention for a while. “Is everything okay over there?”

“Everything’s fine,” Jakub reassured her, nodding, and then he slipped free so he could join Cheshire on the floor.

“Jakub!” Cheshire immediately threw his arm around Jakub’s shoulders and drew him tight; the room was already so happily crowded that no one would have thought anything of it, allowing Jakub to relax deeply into Cheshire’s side. All the frustration of the opposite room was sent fluttering away with one of Cheshire’s familiar chuckles close to his ear. “I’m so glad you’re here! I’m losing!” He pulled Jakub with him as he reached across the current pot for an opened bottle of bourbon. “Drink up and put on your poker face, your people need you!”

Jakub accepted the bottle, and despite a warning from his buzzing head—which felt suspiciously like Hannah’s eyes on him—he took a long swig. The rest of the circle cheered him on. He finished with a gasp and turned on Cheshire, determined to enjoy the rest of the evening. “Deal.”

“Yes, sir!” Still laughing, Cheshire shuffled the cards.

They spent an hour together in bubbly, joyful amusement. Despite the warm drink in his belly dulling his focus, Jakub won back almost all of the mail Cheshire had gambled off. Cheshire murmuring congratulations into his ear was the far greater reward. As the celebration around them grew lazier, sleepier, they reached the final hand of the night, and Cheshire and Jakub each pushed all the winnings they had left into the pot.

Cheshire eyed Jakub over his hand, eyebrows crinkling in serious contemplation. Jakub stared back, unmoved. Then Cheshire’s lip quirked, and he lowered his cards. “You’re bluffing,” he declared.

Jakub’s heart bounced and fluttered, and he lowered his hand. Just one pair to Cheshire’s straight. Watching Cheshire celebrate his victory over the pot had him vibrating. He wished he had the courage to kiss him right there in front of everyone. I should have told him when he asked me, he thought, licking his lips. That he’s cute—no, handsome—no, beautiful! He hunched in on himself. I should have stood up for him against the boss. He would have for me.

Cheshire offered him the last sips from the bottle they’d been sharing, and Jakub finished it off without thinking. As they and their gambling partners dragged themselves upright, he realized that his left hand wasn’t responding as it should have. He stared at it a moment, but his brain was swimming in too much booze and mirth for him to concentrate on the right muscles. Oh well. Ignoring it for the time being, he helped Cheshire one-handed in rounding up the other guests.

At long last, the festivities drew to a close. Camila’s various guests collected their henchmen—some baffled, some amused, some annoyed by their various stages of inebriation. Jakub stayed back, helping Gertie and her sisters make a meager attempt at tidying up; Cheshire stayed by the door, smoothing over any irritations as an excuse to catch glimpses of the departing bigwigs, and to offer Grace another round of thanks as she and the band departed.

“Chesh, what the fuck is the matter with you!” declared Herb as he passed with Camila on his arm. “You were supposed to be in there backing me up.”

Jakub turned to look. Cheshire rubbed the back of his neck, his grin scraped thin across his face. “Sorry, Herb, you know I wanted to.” He hesitated, and Jakub noticed Hannah nearby, watching him. “But someone had to keep an eye on things in here,” he finished diplomatically. “How’d we do? ‘Cause I dunno about you, but my guests loved it.”

Herb scoffed, an honest twist of irritation in his expression. “Sure, sure. Like clockwork. I’ll tell you all about it over lunch someday.”

“Good night, Mr. Bloom,” said Camila, and they moved on, taking their workers with them.

Jakub started closer, thinking the night was finally over and they could escape, only to hear Barney’s voice out in the hall. His instincts suggested a retreat toward the kitchen, but Hannah was already heading out, motioning to him to follow. He pressed his mouth in a thin line as he did so.

“You better not have let them drink through that whole liquor cabinet,” Barney was saying. He seemed to be in a good mood—smirking at Cheshire without his usual contempt or apprehension. “Couldn’t you have found some other way to keep them busy?”

“Herb asked me for a party,” replied Cheshire, leaning against the door frame, arms folded. He shrugged. “I delivered.”

Barney snorted. “Make sure everyone’s back to work in the morning,” he said, and he sauntered off. Kasper, already partway down the hall, didn’t look back.

“Ready, Jakub?” asked Hannah, but Jakub was watching Cheshire.

“I’m staying,” he said. “Help clean up.”

Hannah frowned at him doubtfully. “You’re drunk,” she said, as if not quite believing it herself. “And you can’t drive your car back. You can ride with me.”

“I’m not drunk,” Jakub insisted, and he feared that was the perfect time for his balance to give way, but he managed not to make a fool of himself. “I’m going to help clean up and take an empty room.”

“…All right.” Hannah wasn’t convinced, but she didn’t press any further. “Good night. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She clapped him on the shoulder and then offered Cheshire a nod on her way out.

“Good niiight,” Cheshire sang after her. He reassured Gertie and the remaining Kozlows that they weren’t actually going to attempt any further cleaning until the morning, and gratefully they headed downstairs to pick from the building’s many empty rooms.

Finally. Jakub shifted from foot to foot as Cheshire closed the door and the room fell quiet. His head spun and his chest felt huge and hollow—as thrilled as he was for them to have achieved privacy, something in Cheshire’s face as he looked over the apartment held him back. “You gonna be sick?” he asked.

“Who, me?” Cheshire draped his arms over Jakub’s shoulders and drew him in with a quiet hum. “Mmm, thank you.”

“Hm?” Jakub welcomed him close. It didn’t seem like either of them were steady enough to make it across the street, so he took a step back and tugged Cheshire with him, in the direction of the bedroom. “What for?”

“You came,” Cheshire mumbled, needing only a little prodding to follow Jakub across the penthouse step by step. “I was so lonely without you.”

Jakub buried his nose in Cheshire’s collar as he continued to clumsily lead the way. “No you weren’t. You had everyone.”

“Yeah but…” Cheshire sighed against Jakub’s ear. “They didn’t like me.”

Jakub’s shoulder clipped a corner, and he startled, fingers digging into Cheshire’s back. “What? No—they did. You’re…” Jakub fumbed them around the wall so they could continue on. How had Cheshire’s mood soured so quickly? It reminded Jakub of that terrible blankness in his eyes when he was forced out of the dinner. I should have said  something before, he thought, and he groped after the words to reassure him. “You’re cute.”

Cheshire sighed again, and for a moment Jakub was hopeful that he had successfully comforted him. They stumbled around a lamp and finally bumped into the open bedroom door frame.

“I worked really hard, you know,” Cheshire carried on, sniffing pitifully. “I just wanted to meet everyone.”

The awful, unproductive dinner smeared across Jakub’s memory. “No, you didn’t. You wouldn’t like them.”

They reached the bed, both so eager for rest that they thought nothing of scattering piles of papers in all directions as they tumbled onto it. As they stretched out together on the mattress Jakub looked to Cheshire’s face and hated the distress he found there. It reminded him of tearful confessions years ago, and he tried to think back, remembering there was something he was supposed to have said then, too. He traced the scar on Cheshire’s jaw up to his split ear as if it would jog his memory. When it took too long to recall, he clutched at the only words still close to him. “Don’t be sad,” he said firmly. “You’re cute.” Maybe Cheshire simply hadn’t heard the  first  time, because this time, the hard wrinkle of his brow loosened.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! You’re cute.” The brim of Cheshire’s hat was crammed against the pillow, so Jakub knocked it off his head to keep it from creasing. He reached for his glasses, too, only to misjudge how stiff and unresponsive his mechanical hand had become in his drunkenness—his metal knuckles smacked into Cheshire’s cheekbone with a quiet thunk.

“Ow,” Cheshire mumbled, and though he didn’t sound particularly injured, Jakub’s throat clenched and he wanted to cry for having hurt him when he was already fragile.

“Sorry.” Jakub took off Cheshire’s glasses with his good hand and tossed them aside. “I’m sorry.” It didn’t seem enough, so he pulled Cheshire closer again, rubbing his cheek to get the sting out of it and stroking his hair. “I’m sorry I didn’t… I should have…”

“What?” Confused, Cheshire started petting him, too. “Are you okay?”

Jakub grimaced. They weren’t making sense—he couldn’t comfort Cheshire the way he wanted to, when he needed him to. “You’re cute,” he said again, because he couldn’t think of anything else and at least that had worked a little before. “So don’t listen to anyone else.”

“Okay,” Cheshire mumbled, and he smiled, thank goodness. With eyes closed he relaxed into Jakub’s arms. “Thanks.”

He hummed sleepy nonsense for a while as he wriggled, bit by bit, closer up against Jakub’s body. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. Jakub tried to stay awake a while longer, as if he could watch over him even though he wasn’t any clearer. He rubbed Cheshire’s back and breathed in the smell of his hair until drifting off.

***

Jakub awoke to the sound of Cheshire’s voice, and he smiled into the sheets, wishing it was closer. Then he heard someone answer.

He shot up and instantly regretted it; the penthouse bedroom splintered across his eyes, everything hazy and stabbing at once, and his stomach heaved. He clamped his hands over his mouth, and his metal knuckles banged clumsily against his jaw. Bathroom! His eyes watered as he stumbled off the bed and looked for the closest doorway. Toilet!

Sturdy hands took him by the arms, pushing and supporting him forward. Cheshire’s voice was back, closer, trying to reassure him. But Jakub had only one concern at the moment, and he was barely able to make out the shape of the toilet before he dropped to his knees and threw up into it.

“Easy,” said Cheshire, one hand rubbing gentle circles into his back. “Take it easy.”

Jakub squeezed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths until he felt steady enough to lean back. Cheshire offered him a towel and he accepted to wipe his face. “Thanks,” he muttered.

“That’s a first, then,” said Burke, and Jakub flinched, having forgotten already that Cheshire had been talking to someone. He glanced over his shoulder and found Burke standing in the doorway.

Burke leaned back. “Sorry. Just never seen you that far hungover, ‘s all.”

Jakub turned forward again, embarrassed. “I’m fine.”

“Give us a minute, okay?” said Cheshire, still crouched at Jakub’s side. “No one is that eager to get back to work.”

“I’ll start some coffee,” Burke offered, and he headed back through the bedroom.

Jakub flushed the toilet and leaned back. His stomach still felt like a clenching fist and his head ached, made worse by even the dull light streaming through the small bathroom window. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much to drink and paid so badly for it. Thinking it would take too much effort to move just yet, he stayed still, rubbing his eyes as if that might get the sting out. He forgot about everything else until Cheshire touched his shoulder.

“Water?”

Cheshire offered a glass, and Jakub grimaced as he accepted. After spitting some in the toilet he took a slow, careful sip. “Thanks.”

“A little too much for one night, huh?” Cheshire said, keeping his voice blessedly low. Gently he massaged the base of Jakub’s skull with three fingers. “Sorry if I was egging you on.”

“No, you…” Jakub closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. He wanted nothing more than to curl up against Cheshire in a warm bed again, in a dark and quiet room where he could groan in peace. “I shouldn’t have…”

Jakub remembered suddenly where they were, and he tensed, twisting toward the door. There was only so much that could be explained away by a concerned friend and if Burke could see them—

The door was closed. Jakub tried to relax but was assaulted by a whole new round of concerns, and he turned to Cheshire with growing panic. “Burke, did he—”

“It’s okay,” Cheshire quickly reassured him. He drew his hand back. “It’s just Eggy. He found us asleep, but he didn’t think anything of it.”

“But…” Jakub gulped, his nausea beginning to return as he thought back through the night’s events. A blush burned all across his face. “I was so ridiculous,” he murmured, trying to sink further away from Cheshire without moving too much. “Everyone must have seen how I…” He cringed, mortified. “What if they all know about us now?”

Cheshire leaned back on his hands to stare at Jakub in confusion. Then he laughed, and despite Jakub’s tender ears, it didn’t bother him at all. “You don’t have to worry about that,” Cheshire told him.

“But I…” Jakub scrubbed at his mouth self-consciously. “I wasn’t making a weird face?”

Cheshire laughed some more, shaking his head. Jakub was amazed by how cheerful he was, despite the roughness in his voice and the red in his eyes from just as much drinking as his partner. “Not any weirder than always! Half the reason Burke came looking for us was because of Gertie—she told him you looked ready to murder someone last night, probably me.” He flashed Jakub a smirk. “Not everyone is as used to it as I am.”

He may have been aiming to reassure, but Jakub lowered his eyes, uncertain how to take that. As relieved as he was to know no one had caught on, he didn’t much like the idea either of a room full of strangers assuming he had any malice for his charming lover. He squirmed, unable to effectively rally his wits with his head still heavy and spinning. Before he could come to any proper response, Cheshire spoke again.

“Would it really be that bad?” Cheshire asked, quieter. “If everyone knew?”

Would it? What few thoughts Jakub had managed to string together flitted away again as he met Cheshire’s seeking eyes. He stared back, trapped. His heart began to pound and he had fleeting visions of moving to Cheshire’s side against Kasper, glaring back at him in devotion and defiance. But the words he would have to say—the stabbing sensation of eyes from all sides glaring back at them, the questions and even accusations that would follow… He could just as easily envision Barney’s hand shaking around a pistol.

Jakub’s stomach lurched, and as much as he tried to fight it back, there was no winning; he leaned over the toilet again, throwing up the few sips of water he’d managed to get down along with the rest of his bile. Cheshire startled and hurried to support him, saying, “Sorry! Sorry—forget it. I know.”

“It’s not—” Jakub croaked, but then he had to stop again, coughing as carefully as he could to keep from gagging again. Only after he’d regained some breath did he try again. “Sorry. It’s not that.”

“No, I know.” Cheshire refilled the glass with water from the sink while Jakub wiped his mouth. “It’s complicated, right? I get it.” He hesitated before laying a hand on Jakub’s back. “Things are great like they are now—no reason to get everyone worked up over it.”

Jakub accepted the glass again, rinsing his mouth out without risking another drink. His left hand shuddered in his lap. “I shouldn’t have let the boss throw you out,” he said, the words leaping out of him as if they had a mind of their own. “I’m sorry.”

Cheshire blinked, caught off guard, but he always managed to compose himself so much faster than Jakub could; he smiled, both heartwarming and painful. “Hey, don’t worry about that. That had nothing to do with you.” Cheshire smoothed his mussed hair out of his face. “He’s the boss.”

Jakub wasn’t satisfied with that, but he bit his lip. What if I say the wrong thing again and make this worse? he thought as he pushed away from the toilet and set the glass aside. I was so hard on him yesterday. If he’s fine with things now…isn’t that enough?

“I think…I’m done,” he said, but he already didn’t like the sound of that, and he hurried to add, “With puking.”

“You’re sure?” Cheshire seemed back to his tired but cheery self as he hooked one arm under Jakub’s. “If I put you in the other penthouse, should I bring a bucket?”

“I’m okay.” Jakub could have stood by himself, but he let Cheshire tug him to his feet anyway. Once there he was glad he had, as the bathroom spun a moment before straightening out again. “I don’t need the penthouse, I’ll just—”

“It’s fine—you’ll be out of the way, but I can still keep an eye on you.” Cheshire slung his arm around Jakub’s waist and herded him out of the bathroom. “Come on, when will you get a better excuse?”

“…All right.”

Jakub allowed Cheshire to lead them through and out of the penthouse. He kept his head down as they passed the kitchen, where Burke and a few lazy Kozlow workers were half sprawled across the table waiting for coffee to bring them back to life. Though he couldn’t make out any of their sleepy conversation, he couldn’t help but fear he was the topic for some inexplicable reason. But Cheshire swept them past and out the door, chatting about the weather or something else equally mundane, to prevent anyone from trying to interrupt them.

“I want to hear all about it when you’re feeling better,” Cheshire said as he sat Jakub down on the bed in the second penthouse. He knelt to help Jakub out of his shoes. “Burke said he’d give me the low down, but I’m sure he exaggerates.”

“I don’t know how he could this time,” said Jakub, fumbling with his shirt buttons. “It was pretty bad.”

“Ha! Well, at least I can feel some vindication, then.” Cheshire straightened up and took over the unbuttoning. “Herb thinks it’s so easy to just throw a nice party, huh?” he said as he helped Jakub out of his shirt. “To make nice with people who have no reason to like you? Maybe he learned a thing or two.”

A tiny thread of bitterness had crept into his tone that made Jakub’s mouth taste sour all over again. “Next time, you don’t get to sit out,” he said. Then he frowned. “I mean it this time.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me.” The shirt was helplessly rumpled but Cheshire folded it anyway before setting it aside. “Just get some rest and we’ll plan our next scheme later.”

He looked ready to leave, so Jakub snagged him by the sleeve before he could get too far. Trying not to wince, he lifted his left arm. Cheshire still smiled, but he took the duty seriously as he loosened the leather strap holding the prosthetic to Jakub’s upper arm.

“It looked like it was giving you some trouble last night,” he said quietly. “Are you sure it’s not damaged?”

Jakub gave the arm a twist so that it separated into Cheshire’s hands. “It’s just hard to concentrate on moving the fingers,” he replied. “Especially drunk.”

“And you were pretty drunk.” Cheshire set it within reach on the bedside table and turned back. “Do you need anything else?”

Stay. Jakub swallowed and shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Thanks.” He blushed as he slid into bed. “For looking after me.”

“I’ll come check on you in a few hours,” Cheshire promised. He seemed to take a little too much pleasure from tucking Jakub in and ruffled his hair fondly. “I’d give you a kiss, but not until you brush your teeth.”

Jakub snorted quietly. Already the pillow beneath his sore head did wonders, the next best thing to having Cheshire beside him. “I’ll have to come back to your apartment,” he said, eager for the excuse. “I have an extra there.”

“Okay,” said Cheshire, chuckling. “You owe me a night over anyway. But maybe the whiskey can wait.”

He bent down to press a kiss to Jakub’s temple. “Then you can tell me some more about how cute I am,” he said into his hair.

Jakub flushed, mortified. “You remember that…?”

“I sure do.” He chuckled as he moved to the curtains, making sure they were fully drawn before heading to the door. “Sleep tight,” he said, and with a wink he showed himself out. Jakub took a deep breath and burrowed into the plush mattress, letting the cool sheets soothe his burning cheeks. He was determined to sleep off the rest of his hangover as quickly as possible.

***

Outside the bedroom, Cheshire took a moment to catch his breath and clean his glasses. Then with a deep breath and a roll of his shoulders, he was off again.

That was a stupid thing to ask, he thought as he moved back through the penthouse, which had cleaned up well in the aftermath thanks to Camila’s caterer. Of course we can’t let everyone know yet. He gulped as he headed back toward the other apartment to rejoin Burke and the others. If ever? We’ve been over this—Kozlow would never let it go. He made that much pretty clear.

Cheshire sighed, hesitating in the doorway. Grace was wrong—Jakub has just as much to lose as I do if anyone finds out. But it’s fine, like this. Once he was able to paste his smile back on, he propelled himself into the kitchen.

“Good morning, everyone!” he greeted boisterously, and he was met with a round of queasy groans. “That coffee ready yet?”

Conversation was bland and sparse. It wasn’t until Gertie had herded everyone into the other rooms to resume operations that Burke tugged Cheshire to the balcony. With a breeze off the river clearing their heads, Burke finally relayed the events of the dinner. Cheshire listened, trying not to let concern for poor Jakub stranded at the table ruin his focus.

When Burke had finished, he let out a long sigh and leaned against the rail. “Sorry, but it was a waste of time,” he admitted, digging a cigarette out of his pocket. “Maybe worse. By throwing their weight around without landing, Manhattan made themselves look like chumps. It won’t go well from here.”

Cheshire lit the cigarette for him, and after Burke had taken the first drag, he motioned to get one of his own. “Masterson’s not the type to lose gracefully, that’s for sure,” Cheshire agreed. “I wish I’d known from the start what they were up to. Maybe I could have talked them out of it.”

“What use is there worrying now?” Burke gave a jagged shrug. “I don’t think the boss came off all that great either, but he and O’Shea hit it off somehow. If we come out with one more ally than Manhattan did, bully for us.”

Cheshire let out a long breath and passed the cigarette back. “That almost worries me more. But you’re right—no use worrying about it. Let’s just keep our ears wide open for what they do next, huh?”

“Are my ears ever closed?” Burke shot back. “The hell do you think I do?” They jostled each other playfully as they headed back inside, but once there Burke scratched the back of his neck. “You really did good though,” he said. “No one can say you didn’t bring up yer end, that’s for sure.”

“Thanks, Eggy.” Cheshire smirked. “Do me a favor and tell that to everyone you see today.”

Burke rolled his eyes. “I’ll start with Danowicz,” he said, and Cheshire felt his cheeks go rosey. “He gonna be all right? Never seen him that green.”

“He’s fine!” Cheshire chirped, and then he chuckled to cover himself. If anyone’s face is going to  give  us  away,  it’s mine. “He’s not built for diplomacy, is all.” He threw his arm around Burke’s shoulders and steered him toward the office. “Let’s get back to work. Sooner or later we’ll land a score that even Boss Kozlow will have to be impressed by.”

Burke agreed, and they carried on, eager to be out ahead of whatever came next.