Chapter 6 – The Business

Edith had only just flipped the sign on her café door when she received her first customer, one she had never served before: a short, rough-edged teenager with brick-red hair and almond-shaped eyes, who bustled inside with nervous urgency and moved straight to the far end of the counter. She didn’t think much about it at the time; nervous teenagers were always bustling about, eager to get into or away from some kind of trouble. His black eye and split lip weren’t necessarily out of place, either. He ordered a coffee and a hard boiled egg, and Edith was feeling just charitable enough in the early hours that she added a slice of toast for good measure.

He mumbled his thanks and gobbled it down, then afterward stayed restlessly in his seat, trying to make the coffee last.

The rest of the café’s morning regulars filtered in over the next hour, already grumbling about the day ahead. They filled in the stools toward the front first, so that when Cheshire entered, tousled and bleary-eyed but still in good spirits, he went down the line greeting and laughing with each as if they were all friends. He ordered a cup of coffee and settled on the last available stool, which just happened to be right next to the first-timer.

“Unusual to see you this far north this early,” said Edith as she filled his cup. “Can I get you some eggs?”

“Mm! No, thanks, I’ll start with this.” Cheshire grinned and winced together. “We celebrated a little too long last night after the job—I need to burn some fuel off before I fill the tank, you know?”

“Oh, I see,” Edith replied, amused. “And how did that job go?”

“Never better! We beat the Foleys to the take again.” The teenager next to him lifted his head at the mention, but Cheshire didn’t take notice. “Just a few more pushes and they’ll be in the river instead of on it.”

Edith nodded. “Good, good. Glad my daughters could help. Let me know if you decide to take a risk on breakfast.”

She moved on, and as Cheshire sipped gingerly at his coffee, it was the stranger trying to shrink out of his notice that drew his attention. “Wow, buddy,” he said loudly enough to turn a few heads. “You’re worse off than me. You okay?”

“Don’t I look it?” the teen shot back in a thick Brooklyn accent, but then he pulled a face and tried again with dryer sarcasm. “Yeah, ‘m fine, thanks. Peachy keen.”

“Oh, good,” said Cheshire, turning toward him. “‘Cause for a second there it looked like someone pounded your face in.”

“‘S fine, really.” He rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the concern.”

Cheshire took a napkin from a nearby stack and passed it to him. “You’ve got blood on you,” he insisted. “Might wanna—”

“Fuck, sorry, thanks, okay?” The teen scraped the napkin across his lip and was surprised to realize that the rest of the café had already abandoned interest in the conversation. He lowered his voice to keep it that way. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

Cheshire left him alone for a bit, but not long. Soon enough his curiosity had him back at it. “So did you get in a fight?” he pressed.

“Yeah, with a garage door,” he retorted. “And I won.”

Cheshire laughed while the teen dug through his pockets for a cigarette. As soon as he spotted it, his eyes lit up and he leaned in. “Need a light?”

“Uh….” The teen leaned back to get Cheshire out of his space. “Sure,” he said, and immediately the end of the cigarette flamed up. He was so startled he dropped it on his plate, and Cheshire chuckled some more.

“Sorry,” Cheshire said, a little sheepish. “Didn’t get your fingers, did I?”

He plucked the cigarette back up, eyes wide as he glanced between it and his company. “Ye’re Cheshire Bloom,” he said incredulously.

His accent faltered just enough that Cheshire cast him a sideways glance, and he gulped. But then Cheshire grinned, any suspicion that might have flashed across his eyes gone. “Oh, you’ve heard of me?”

“Who hasn’t?” He took a puff on the cigarette, bouncing his heel against the stool. At long last he offered his hand. “Edward Burke.”

Cheshire shook his hand, his grip firm but friendly. “Sorry, can’t say I’ve heard of you. But glad to meet you now.”

“Likewise,” said Burke, and after another long moment

spent considering, reconsidering, and gathering his courage, he leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Actually, there’s something you should know. About the Foley’s you were just talking about.”

Cheshire ducked in as well, all ears. “Oh?”

***

It was half past ten when the truck rolled in. The crew of a small Astoria textile mill was still wrapping bolts of fabric, and they looked to each other with concern as Tiny Gi ran to tell the boss. She emerged from her office with her .22 strapped to her thigh and moved through the warehouse, reminding everyone to keep at their work. By then the truck had already backed into position beyond the garage door, and she slipped out the side door with Tiny Gi in tow. As the driver shifted into park, she swept her long hair back and unholstered the pistol. “You’re early!” she called out.

The driver side door opened, and a man stepped down. He was as tall and broad as she would have expected of a Foley, with honey-blond hair and well-manicured sideburns tracing a stern jawline. But then he smiled, and the flash of his teeth coupled with the handsome cut of his suit convinced her she wasn’t dealing with some dime a dozen grunt.

“Am I early?” the man asked with a hint of an unplaceable accent, and he checked his watch—just as expensive as the rest of his attire. “Bloody thing must be off! My apologies.” He extended his hand. “You must be Miss Zoe Raptis.”

Zoe hesitated a moment before holstering her pistol so she could shake his hand. “I am,” she said. The side door of the truck opened, and she regretted taking her hand off the weapon; she tried to disengage from the man’s handshake. “And you are…?”

“Charlie Tighe, at your service.” He let go just as his partner rounded the front of the truck: a woman also dressed in a fine suit, with a head of blonde hair beneath her broad-brimmed hat and a face full of freckles. She was carrying a purse under her arm. “This is my sister, Millie,” Charlie introduced. “Boss Foley sent us to fetch the threads.”

“Just the two of you?” Zoe said with eyebrows arched. “I may not look like much, mum,” said Charlie, squaring his shoulders. “But I can handle plenty of sixty inchers, believe me.”

Millie glided past him to settle beside Tiny Gi. “Besides,” she added, “I’m sure you’ve got a half dozen more of these hanging around inside, right, mister?”

She offered his hand to him, and with a glance at Zoe he accepted, blushing back to his ears. “They call me Tiny Gi, ma’am,” he introduced shyly.

“My! But you’re not tiny at all!” She giggled, and Zoe just managed not to roll her eyes. “And not ironically enormous, either. But I suppose every gang has to have one.”

“Now that we’re all acquainted,” said Charlie, “shall we take a look at the merchandise?”

Zoe glanced between the pair. She’d never met the Tighes but they weren’t nobodies, and they weren’t quite a match to the stories that had reached her ears. But she wasn’t about to cross or question a Foley if her gut was wrong, not with the lot of them already itchy on their triggers. “Of course,” she said, and she motioned for Charlie to head inside first. “They’re still finishing up with a few bolts, since you’re early.”

“Perfect.” Smirking, Charlie showed himself in.

The crew kept at their work, as instructed, but they still snuck many glances at their visitor as he strolled down the line of tables. Each was rolling lengths of colorful wool fabric onto wooden bolts sixty inches long, pausing a few yards short of finishing to sneak broad envelopes between the layers. Charlie viewed their efforts with a critical eye, and when he paused at one of the stations for a closer look, Zoe reached again for her pistol. But he paid no interest in the envelopes or their contents, instead plucking off one of his gloves so he could test the wool between his fingers.

“Is this Super 70s?” he asked Zoe without looking up. “Super 90s,” Zoe replied, but when Charlie cast her a doubtful look, she crossed her arms and relented. “Yes, 70s. But that’s not what’s driving the price up.”

“Oh, I know.” Charlie smiled to himself as he continued to peruse. “But as long as they come together, might as well make the most of it, eh?” He moved on, toward the back where new bolts were stored on racks, while Millie paid no attention and continued chatting with Tiny Gi. “Aha! Now this earns the title ‘super.’”

Zoe frowned as she joined him at the rack; he’d stopped in front of a bolt of worsted wool, dyed burgundy with a plaid pattern. “That’s not much higher count than what they’re wrapping with, you know,” she told him.

“Yes, but what’s the point of 90s when 80s is more durable? You want a suit to last, after all.” He tugged on the edge of the fabric. “See that beautiful elasticity? And the pattern, so subtle.” He replaced his glove and turned to Zoe with a grin. “Would you mind terribly if I add it to our order?”

Zoe blinked. “You want the whole bolt?”

“Yes.” He gave it a pat as if it were a pet. “Please.”

“That’ll be another five dollars to your total.”

“Of course!” Grinning, Charlie hefted the bolt off the rack; Zoe had to duck out of the way as he swung about to head back toward his sister. “Oh Millie, dear! Pay the woman, won’t you?”

Millie made a face at him, but he only smiled sweetly in return, and with a huff she reached into her purse. “I suppose it’ll be $255, then,” she said as she pulled out a wad of cash.

Though not happy about her lack of caution for the sum she was flashing about, Zoe quickly joined her, watching the bills being counted out. Once in her hands she fingered the edges and ran her fingernail over top, but she didn’t detect anything unusual enough to think it fake. She slipped the amount into the front of her brassiere. “It’ll just be a while longer as they finish the wrapping.”

“Not a problem,” said Charlie as he waited for Tiny Gi to open the garage door for him. “As long as we can get it to The Cherry before midnight, we’re golden.”

He loaded the extra bolt, and true to his word helped the workers with the rest as they were completed. Once the last of the lot was secured and the truck door closed, Zoe shook hands with both of the Tighes again. Millie offered the back of her palm to Tiny Gi, who blushed furiously as he kissed it. Zoe sighed.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” said Charlie, and with a wave and a smirk, he and his sister hopped into their truck and drove off.

“Think we’ll see’m again?” Tiny Gi asked once it was out of view.

“I doubt it,” Zoe replied, not without sympathy. “The streets are saying that the Foleys are losing ground. It’ll be the Kozlows that show up next time.” She gave him a pat on the arm. “Come on, little brother. Let’s close up.”

It wasn’t ten minutes later, as they were locking the doors, when another truck pulled up to the garage, and a stout boy and his female partner hopped out of the cab. Three thick- necked mafia goons emerged from the rear and Zoe had her gun out long before they reached the door. “I’m Charlie Tighe,” the boy introduced himself. “Boss Foley sent us for the bolts.”

And Zoe saw red.

***

“I can’t believe you talked me into that,” said Grace, bracing her feet on the dash as they passed a cemetery, heading from Astoria into Maspeth. “I can’t believe it worked!”

“Of course it worked,” replied Cheshire, laughing as he stole her hat for himself. “Didn’t I say it would? It’s not as if anyone north of Newton Creek knows Chuck Tighe, dear lord. Did I tell you that little punk almost got me arrested once?”

“Yeah, over a year ago. Isn’t it time to move on?”

Cheshire tsked her. “It’s not about paybacks,” he insisted. “He’s just a convenient patsy. Besides, I look more like a ‘Charlie’ than he does, right?”

Grace shook her head, but at least she did look amused. He liked that look on her. “I can’t believe you talked me into that,” she said again. “And I can’t believe you got her to sell you that extra bolt! The audacity!”

“That bolt was very important—it is perfect for a holiday jacket.”

“Okay maybe, but she’ll gut you if she ever sees you in it.”

“Okay maybe,” Cheshire parroted, but when she turned to glare at him, he offered her a sincere smile. “But admit it, you had fun.”

Grace tried to make a face at him, but he won out, and she smiled back. “We always have fun,” she admitted, and that was just what he’d been hoping for. Neither of them needed anything more.

They reached the Szpilmans’ hardware store in Maspeth, and as Cheshire backed in, he spotted a familiar stone-face in his rearview mirror. He gulped. “If anyone asks,” he told Grace, “this was all your idea.”

“You are completely on your own with him,” Grace replied as she twisted her door open. Cheshire steeled himself and did the same.

Jakub was leaning against the side of the building, a mostly-smoked cigarette hanging from his mouth. Though his expression was as unreadable as ever, there was no mistaking the folded arms for anything but irritation. Cheshire reminded himself that he had prepared for this, and with a deep breath he greeted Jakub, grinning. “You’re here! Someone squealed on me, huh?”

Jakub dropped his butt to the ground and snuffed it out under his toe. “Did you get found out?” he asked, deadpan.

“We would have come in a lot faster if we had,” Cheshire replied, but it didn’t seem to earn him any amusement. Hoping Jakub couldn’t see him sweat, he rapped on the garage door and then turned back to the truck. “Don’t worry, it went off without a hitch. See for yourself.”

He opened up the back, and Jakub moved closer to see. He even unwound the top bolt to hand over the envelope inside. Jakub peeled it open and tugged out the contents just enough for a peek: weapons blueprints stamped with the Hallorran emblem.

“They’ll be safe in these until we can find a buyer,” said Cheshire, watching Jakub close the envelope back up. “My guy inside Foley said they were planning on going to Diamondback for the sale. I’m sure they won’t mind paying us instead once the Foleys finally belly up.”

“Your guy on the inside,” said Jakub, staring straight back.

The garage door finally began to open, and when Cheshire glanced up at the sound, he spotted Grace standing nearby, watching him with sympathetic amusement. “I know you don’t believe me,” he said, taking the envelope back to be re-rolled. “But how else would I have known about this deal? He’s a good kid.”

Jakub continued to stare, unimpressed. It wasn’t until the Szpilmans emerged to help unload and he and Cheshire moved out of their way that he spoke. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going through with it?”

“Because you already told me not to,” Cheshire replied with a shrug. “And you never would have passed for Irish, anyway, let alone my sister.”

Jakub snorted but couldn’t argue that point. “Barney’s not going to be happy you included his in-laws on this without telling him,” he said instead.

“Why? It was Wanda who offered them—if she didn’t tell him, that’s on her.”

“Cheshire.” Jakub fixed him with a stern look, and he just barely managed not to squirm. “You can’t go over Barney’s head like that—he’s the boss’s son.”

Cheshire rolled his eyes, and though he should have known better, he said, “Barney can suck an egg. It’s not like he can hate me more than he already does.” Too nervous to see Jakub’s reaction, he looked back to the truck, and thankfully had the perfect excuse: the Szpilmans were reaching for his worsted burgundy. “Hey, wait!” he called, heading over. “That one doesn’t have anything in it—it’s mine.”

“That’s the last of it, then,” said Wanda’s brother, Leon. “Oh, and the other thing you asked for.” He waved one of his buddies forward, who handed Cheshire a paper bag. “You got a sweet tooth or something?”

“Sure do.” Cheshire peeked inside and, satisfied, gave the man a salute. “I need to borrow the truck a while longer but I’ll get it back in one piece, I promise.”

“Thought you’d say that. Best of luck, Bloom.”

They shook hands, and Cheshire headed back to the driver’s seat. Grace hopped in from the other side, and was then made to move over by Jakub climbing in after. Before he could ask, Cheshire handed him the bag and said, “See for yourself.”

Jakub did so while Cheshire started the truck up. His brow knit. “Cherries?”

“The Foleys will be on to us by now,” Cheshire said as he pulled away from the store. “And assuming Zoe’s as sharp as she looked, they’ll know where to find us.”

“She looked pretty sharp,” Grace said wistfully. “Cherries,” Jakub said again, and then he straightened, catching on. “The Cherry’s been emptied. If you’re planning an ambush, shouldn’t we have brought the Szpilmans?”

“‘Ambush’ is too harsh of a word,” Cheshire protested. “It’s more like…a reminder.” Jakub didn’t look convinced, but Cheshire knew he would understand once he saw for himself, so he decided not to waste his breath on more explanation until then. “Go on—have a cherry. But not too many, I need at least eight.”

Jakub shook his head, but when Grace held out her palm expectantly, he passed her one, then after some consideration took one for himself. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he muttered.

I really have thought this through, you know, Cheshire wanted to say, but he was sure it would come out too defensive, so he only hummed mysteriously and didn’t reply the rest of the trip.

They parked along the creek and walked the shore for a block, taking them to The Cherry: a red-brick warehouse that had once been home to a cannery, recently bought out by Wanda’s family to expand the oil refinery next door. It had already been cleared of most machinery, and Cheshire made a quick scan of the layout to make sure his preparations from early in the day hadn’t been disturbed: a clear aisle down the center of the building, oil drums half full of newspaper lining either side. “It’s a good thing you’re here, Jakub,” Cheshire said as he walked the line, dropping a cherry into each drum. “I need you to hide outside the building, and once they’re in, lock the door behind them. There’s a padlock in the letterbox.”

Jakub watched him, frowning deeply. “This is starting to sound harsher than an ambush,” he said.

“It’ll be fine,” Cheshire replied quickly, and he shrugged, too conscious of Jakub’s heavy stare. “Trust me, okay?”

When he finished there were still two cherries left over, and he offered one more to Grace. She accepted with less enthusiasm than she’d shown earlier. “You don’t need me to do anything, do you?” she asked.

“No no, you’re fine.” Cheshire gave her the hat back, settling it low over her face. “You should head back to the truck and stay hidden. We’ll be right behind you.” He chuckled. “As long as Chuck doesn’t keep us waiting, anyway.”

Grace wished them luck, and just as she was slipping out they could hear engines roaring up to the building. “Don’t get seen,” Cheshire told Jakub as they both hurried to the side door. “Just lock that front door behind them and then head back to Grace in the truck.”

“I’m not leaving you alone with them,” Jakub retorted. “I still don’t know what you’re up to.”

“Don’t worry so much!” Cheshire shooed him on, and once Jakub had finally left to see to his task, he hopped onto a ladder on the side of the building, climbing it to reach the upper windows. The interior catwalks had been cleared out, but there was enough of a ledge that he could sit himself in the sil and get a good look of the whole warehouse.

It’ll work, he told himself, taking off one glove. He rolled the last of the cherries between his fingers, using the subtle weight of it to help visualize each of its brothers hiding below. Just like you practiced.

Two trucks pulled into the lot, and out of them poured two sets of familiar faces: Charlie and Millie hopped out of the first with their Foley goons in tow, Zoe and her brother from the second with two large Greeks of their own. The twins already had their guns out and they headed straight for the open warehouse entrance, just like Cheshire knew they would, but Zoe held back. He could only just see her beyond the doorway, holding onto Tiny Gi’s arm, carefully evaluating.

“Just go in,” Cheshire muttered, but even as the Foleys began to spread out, Zoe motioned for her men to each investigate around the outside. In moments they would be out of range and dangerously close to discovering his and Jakub’s hiding spots, so Cheshire did the only thing he could think to do.

“Heads up, Millie!” he shouted, and he lobbed the cherry at her head.

It struck her in the ear, and she jumped, yelping in surprise. The empty echo of the warehouse gave Cheshire a moment to duck outside the window before he could be located, and as the Foleys aimed their guns in every direction, Zoe’s two men stepped inside to aide the search. But Zoe and her brother remained still, and Cheshire was considering other options when something slammed into Tiny Gi from behind, throwing him into the building.

Zoe spun, but a moment later Jakub had her by the elbow, heaving her through the open entrance. By the time the Foleys had turned with guns raised, he was dragging down the shutter door, locking it into place before anyone could fire a shot.

“Thanks, Jake,” Cheshire whispered, grinning as finally everyone was inside, shouting and pulling at the door. “Bloom!” Charlie shouted, spinning about with his finger close on the trigger of his revolver. “We know you’re in here!”

“It’s good to see you, too—” Cheshire started to call down, but when he peeked back through the window Millie opened fire, cracking the brick much too close to his face, and he had to retreat. “Hey, hey! You don’t want to do that!”

“I really do!” Millie hollered back. “Show me your face!”

“I thought you would have learned your lesson after the last time,” said Cheshire, much more confident now that they were back on script. “It’s not wise to cross a witch!”

“We’re not scared of you, Bloom!” Charlie retorted, but his wasn’t the only voice: his men and Zoe’s began to mutter to each other.

“What is he talking about?” asked Zoe.

“Nothing—he’s a moron.” Charlie fired a few shots at the window, but Cheshire was completely protected from them behind the wall. “It’s you who’s going to regret crossing Foley!”

Cheshire laughed. “Your boss’ bakery says otherwise!”

“What is he talking about?” Zoe demanded again. “You said he was small-time.”

“He is! He’s bluffing!”

“Bluffing, huh?” Cheshire said under his breath, and he closed his eyes a moment to concentrate. He wished he hadn’t thrown his last cherry, but when he rubbed his fingers together he remembered the shape and the weight of it, could picture one just like it sitting in the bottom of a metal can furthest from the entrance. Just like you practiced, he told himself again, and with a deep breath he imagined lighting a flame in the tiny fruit.

The cherry exploded in a burst of fire, and Cheshire could hear everyone inside shout with alarm. By the time he peeked back through the window they had all backed away and were at the warehouse entrance, cursing and shoving at each other as they tried to pry the door open. It wasn’t the most impressive explosion Cheshire had ever been responsible for by far, but the dry paper it ignited sure made for a lot of menacing- looking smoke.

“Whoever you are,” Zoe shouted, “this isn’t how to do business! Let us out!”

“Only if the Foleys swear to stay out of Astoria!” Cheshire shouted back. “Queens is Kozlow territory now!”

“The hell it is!” screeched Millie.

“Suit yourself,” said Cheshire, and he blew the rest.

Everyone ducked, their swearing turning to panicked cries as the men threw their shoulders into the door. Cheshire left them to it—the smoke from the barrels was already making his vantage window rather stuffy. As he climbed down, he easily spotted Jakub nearby, who was eyeing the swirling black with concern. Not that Cheshire had been honestly expecting his wholehearted approval, but he would have at least liked to have seen a glimpse of acknowledgment.

“See?” Cheshire said, replacing his glove as he joined Jakub in staring up at the building. “Nothing to worry about.” Millie’s screaming rose above the others, and Jakub fidgeted. “You said this wasn’t an ambush,” he said disapprovingly.

“It’s not—they’re fine.” Cheshire waved at the side door nearby. “There are three other exits that aren’t locked, they just haven’t figured that out yet. And it’s a lot less fire than it looks like—you don’t really think I’d burn down a Szpilman building, do you?”

Jakub frowned, considering that. “What if they kick one of the cans over by mistake?”

“Then…that could burn down the building, I guess.” Cheshire shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “But that would be their fault, I think.”

Jakub sighed, but he didn’t offer any more complaints for a while, just watching the smoke billow out. He sure seemed to have something on his mind, but as usual wasn’t going to make cracking it out easy. Cheshire waited as long as he could stand to; his habit had always been to plough through, and he wondered if going against instinct would prove any more successful.

But it didn’t, so he gave another shrug. “C’mon, Jakub, didn’t I say to trust me? The Foley’s are way out of line to be doing business this far north, now that we’ve got family up here—I wasn’t gonna let them get away with it. And now they know better. Didn’t even have to kill any of them to prove my point.”

“No, I guess not.” Jakub looked to him, his expression tight with something Cheshire couldn’t quite identify. “It’s just strange to hear you talk like that. You didn’t used to be the ‘make examples of them’ type.”

Hearing him say so made Cheshire’s skin crawl. For some reason he thought of blood in a dark alley, and he shook his head to clear it. “Yeah, well…you used to be more fun,” he retorted.

Jakub started to reply, but was cut off by the side door banging open. The two of them quickly retreated far out of range to be seen, and stayed there only long enough to watch the Foleys and Raptises escape their ordeal into fresh air. Charlie was in tears and Zoe and Millie furiously arguing with each other while Tiny Gi did his best to hold them apart. None of them seemed eager to charge off in search of their tormentor, and Cheshire smirked to himself as he and Jakub made their way back to the truck.

Grace was stretched out across the cab, hidden from sight, but she popped up as soon as she heard the pair of them approach. She opened the driver’s side for Cheshire and offered a hopeful smile. “Did it work?”

“Perfectly. Well, with some help from Jakub.” Cheshire settled behind the wheel while Jakub climbed into the passenger side. “I don’t think the Tighes will be giving us trouble again anytime soon.”

“Next time, just tell me the plan,” said Jakub. “I’m more help if I don’t have have to guess what you’re up to.”

Cheshire started the truck. He wanted to reply with something witty, but the thought of having Jakub properly at his side for the next one churned sincerity out of him. “Okay. I will.”

“No you won’t,” Grace teased, elbowing him. “You’d much rather have him as part of your audience, you ham. Just like the rest of us.”

“That’s not true!” Cheshire protested exaggeratedly, though he did mean it. “I always want Jakub to be in on it—he’s the one that keeps turning me down.”

Jakub turned to look out the window. Apparently he was Done, leaving Cheshire and Grace to chatter among themselves as they headed back to the Szpilmans.

***

Wanda’s brother was waiting when they returned with the truck. He heard only half the story of the smoked-out Foleys before declaring that it was a tale fit for the whole family, and he insisted on leading the three of them into the shop’s basement, where a small but cozy lounge housed a collection of colorful Szpilmans and associates. The booze was weaker than the Foucher brew they were used to, but there was plenty of it, and it didn’t take much to convince Cheshire to regale them with his triumph. Grace did an admirable impression of the shrill Millie Tighe, to everyone’s delight. But when Leon sat down behind the piano, that was when it became a party. Couples took to the floor, bumping into each other as they danced in the close space, switching partners at random. With the help of the drink soon everyone was singing to the music, none louder or better than Grace and Cheshire themselves. They were a perfect match to the jovial Szpilmans and couldn’t have appeared better pleased.

Jakub stayed back, nestled in a corner while watching them pass the night. He drank a little more than he should but it wasn’t his fault—he couldn’t think of any other way to try to drown out Cheshire’s sing-song voice. Of all Cheshire’s ticks and traits he’d managed to work out from under his skin, that laughter was the worst. He could bear Cheshire’s arm across his shoulders without blushing now, could stoically accept a compliment without his heart skipping in place. But that laugh? That singing? It was cruelty itself, and Jakub had too few defenses.

When Leon slowed the piano down for a ballad, Jakub was forced to retreat.

I just need a little more time, he thought determinedly as he leaned against the side of the building, the fresh air helping to clear his head. And then I’ll be over it and we can go back to normal. If he even wants anything to do with me by then.

Jakub sighed, pushing his hair back. “Fun, huh,” he muttered. Not a label he ever would have assigned to himself anyway, and he was fairly certain no one else ever had, either. He had no idea what he’d done to earn it in the first place, let alone how to gain it back. He grumbled to himself as he dug through his pockets, only to realize he’d already smoked his last cigarette down waiting for Cheshire to come back from his misadventure.

A car pulled up to the shop, and Jakub went still, straining his ears. He wasn’t in great shape to be fighting off a Foley retaliation if that’s what it was, but he was sure in a mood to make a ruckus enough to warn Cheshire and the Szpilmans. But it was Hannah that hopped out from behind the driver’s seat, her manner rushed.

“Jakub!” She marched over to him. “What the hell are you doing way out here this late?”

She didn’t look like she was in any better mood than he was, and he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to answer. Turned out he didn’t need to—Hannah grabbed him by the elbow and started pulling him back to the car. “Come on,” she said. “We need you back home.”

She was so insistent that she almost threw him against the passenger door before he could open it. “The hell is going on?” he asked as he shook free. “Bloom’s downstairs with the Szpilmans, shouldn’t we—”

“Just get in the car,” Hannah snapped as she moved to the driver’s side. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

She got behind the wheel, and Jakub had to hurry into his seat before she could drive off without him.

***

It wasn’t until the song was finished, and Cheshire was bowing modestly to the drunken cheers of his audience, that he glanced up and realized Jakub was gone.

He wasn’t surprised, but it still dampened his mood enough to want to sit out on the next round. Luckily, everyone was finally starting to reach the limits of their energy, and they all stretched out on the sofas and chairs, chattering simple inanities about the drink and the weather and how stupid Charlie Tighe must have looked, crying all the way home to his Foley boss. Cheshire helped himself to one last drink as Grace nestled beside him, taking note of the very pointed, very inviting looks the round-faced Leon Szpilman was tossing in his direction.

“Now there’s a bad idea,” Cheshire thought aloud without meaning to. “I’d get an earful from Jakub for sure.”

“Why do you care so much what Jakub thinks anyway?” asked Grace, startling him. “He’s just a great big sourpuss.”

Cheshire squirmed, suddenly wishing he had either a lot less or a lot more alcohol in his stomach. “Because we’re friends! I mean….” He frowned, and deciding that more was the answer after all, he took a long gulp from his bottle. “I dunno, he’s been…different. I think I did something.”

“You’re always doing something,” said Grace. “Maybe he got sick of it, like I did.”

Cheshire sank deeper into the sofa, frowning harder into his booze. “Yeah, but…you’re here now, right?”

“Well, yeah, I got over it.” Grace rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t worry about him and just be fun, Chesh. It’s what you’re good at.”

“Fun, huh.” Cheshire glanced across the room for Leon again, only to find him missing, too. He was about to start feeling exceptionally sorry for himself when he spotted the man only a moment later—he was near the exit, hand over his ear as he tried to listen to a telephone. His eyes went wide, and once he hung up he turned to the group.

“Hey, quiet down!” he called, and everyone in the small assembly turned to look. “It’s Boss Kozlow. He’s in the hospital.”

***

“They said it was some kinda apoplexy,” Hannah said as she led Jakub through the hospital. “We were just going over the books and he stopped talking, couldn’t focus. Fell over.” She shook her head; he was used to seeing her irritated, but agitated less so, and he struggled to match her pace. “And then I was at your apartment, but you weren’t there, and even Bloom—at least he would have had an easier time carrying him! Where the hell is everyone?”

“Sorry,” said Jakub, still somewhat dazed. “There was a job.”

“A job Barney and I didn’t know about?” Hannah glared back at him. “You want me to pretend I didn’t hear that?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s good profit—the boss won’t complain.”

Hannah snorted. “No, he’s not going to be doing much of that for a while.”

It occurred to Jakub that he should have found her concern more rattling. He had no idea yet what condition the man was even in, and seeing Barney at the end of the hall, leaning against the wall with his hat in his hands, should have flooded him with worry. But he just continued to match Hannah’s gait, numb with no clue what to say.

Hannah stopped in front of Barney, and when he didn’t notice her right away she gave him a hard tap on the shoulder. “I found him,” she said.

Barney looked up; he was pale, and he didn’t seem any clearer or steadier than Jakub felt. “Where were you?” he asked, his voice hard but shaky, as if trying to convince himself he was angry. “We needed you here.”

“I’m sorry,” Jakub said automatically. “How is he?”

Barney shrugged, but when he started to answer, he had a hard time getting the words out and had to try again after a moment. “He was awake a little while ago. Muttering something. He asked about you.”

“Go in,” said Hannah, and that finally penetrated Jakub’s daze, leaving him cold. “It’s supposed to be family only, but I’ll scare away any nurses that come by.”

Jakub looked to the door. His heart gave a thud and he didn’t want to go anywhere near it, let alone through it. His feet carried him there anyway, his hand twisted the knob. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

Kasper was stretched out in a bed by the window, seemingly asleep. At first there didn’t seem to be any outward symptoms of whatever ailment had struck him down, but as Jakub moved closer, he saw differently: Kasper’s right arm was folded over his stomach, but the left was lying awkwardly alongside him, the palm turned upward in an uncomfortable angle. The left side of his mouth was sagging, drool seeping down his chin. As Jakub drew closer his eyes opened, but only part way, and they made no effort to properly seek him out.

“Son?” Kasper asked, but his lips were sluggish, slurring. “Is that you?”

“It’s Jakub, sir,” Jakub replied, stopping next to the bed. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“Jakub….” Kasper took in a sudden breath as if realizing for the first time who he was. “Oh, Jakub. You’re not hurt?”

He stretched out his hand, and Jakub hesitated a moment before taking it, only to urge it back down to his stomach. “No, sir, I’m fine. I heard you had…some trouble.”

“Fuck,” Kasper grunted, and he shifted on the bed. Jakub couldn’t help but notice how much trouble he had maneuvering his entire left side. “Fuck this. Come closer, can’t see you. You’re not hurt?”

“…No, sir.” Jakub couldn’t have moved any closer without sitting on the bed, and with a sick feeling he waved his hand in front of Kasper’s face. Kasper did not react. “I think you should rest.”

“You’ll get them back for me, won’t you?” Kasper muttered, fisting the sheets with his one good hand. “Get those bastards.”

“Of course, sir.” Jakub took a step back, a pit in his stomach. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Good.” Kasper sighed as he sank deeper into his pillow and back toward slumber. “I’m counting on you.”

When Jakub returned to the hallway Wanda was there, talking to Barney in low tones. Jakub bypassed them and instead joined Hannah further away, who was twisting locks of hair around her finger anxiously. “Was he awake?” she asked, hushed and urgent at once. “What did he say?”

“He was confused,” said Jakub. His skin crawled and he ached for a cigarette. “Like he thinks we were in a fight.”

“Yeah. He said something like that to me, too. Shit, I could use a smoke.” She forced herself to stop fiddling with her hair and stood up straighter. “The doctors said he might be disoriented for a while. It’s too soon to know how well he’ll recover, or how long it could take. He could be fine in a few days or weeks, or he could…not.” She glanced to Barney and then quickly away again. “It’s too soon.”

“He couldn’t see me,” Jakub said quietly.

“It’s too soon,” Hannah repeated. “We don’t know yet.” Jakub nodded vaguely. He couldn’t stop thinking about Kasper’s arm lying useless at his side. “We have to keep this quiet for as long as we can,” Hannah was saying. “We’ll call everyone in tomorrow, let them know everything is all right. If the Foleys catch wind of this there’ll be trouble.”

“We might not have to worry about the Foleys for a while,” said Jakub. “Bloom taught the Tighe’s a lesson tonight— they’re not stepping foot out of line for now.”

Hannah sighed in exasperation. “That’s just great.

Asking for retaliation at a time like this?”

“They won’t retaliate. Even if they do, Bloom and I can handle it.” Jakub took a deep breath, determined to have one of them say it. “It’s our own people we have to worry about.”

Hannah glanced to Barney again, and then quickly back. “It’ll be business as usual. I can handle the books if you can put up a strong front for the boys. They’ll all feel better if they see you close to Barney. If we can get an early batch of moonshine from the Fouchers, all the better.”

Jakub nodded again, but his mind was finally catching up to the severity of their situation and was starting to overtake him. There were certain members of their crew already that would have to be assured separately, and then there were the Szpilmans to consider—most of them were amiable people in his experience, but he could think of a few that were already considerably less loyal to Barney than his father. They were close to driving the Foleys off the waterfront but there were other gangs to consider, any one of which would be happy to put a knife their backs if they sensed weakness. Even the police might become bolder without Kasper’s influence, whether or not their pockets remained filled. Too many things for him to consider when he was still tipsy from drinking.

“I’ll go back to the apartments,” he said. “Make sure whoever already knows keeps their mouth shut. Do you think you can handle Barney for now?”

Hannah didn’t look happy with the prospect, but she nodded. “Wanda can handle Barney,” she said, “but I’ll stay here with them. Who knows how many others have heard and might show up. Edith said she’d come over with her girls if we need them.” She took a moment to regain her full composure and then faced Jakub seriously. “Thanks, Jakub. It’ll be all right as long as we keep our heads.”

“Yeah,” Jakub agreed, even though he wasn’t entirely sure his was still on his shoulders. “I’ll be back in the morning to check on everything.”

Jakub left. He glanced back one more time on the way, and was relieved that Barney wasn’t looking in his direction. It probably would have been better for him to stay, but he had no idea what he would have said, if Barney had asked for reassurance or advice. He was already planning for the worst.

If Kasper was permanently incapacitated—or worse, didn’t survive—everything would change. No one in Kozlow was prepared for business under Barney’s direction, least of all Barney himself, and they still had more enemies than friends. As Jakub stepped out into the lobby, he found himself struck by the sudden urge to run. The gnawing instinct that had in his youth propelled him across half a continent clenched in the base of his throat in an inescapable warning: he wasn’t safe. There was no point in clinging to the dead and getting away was his only option. It was a ridiculous notion but he couldn’t shake it, until he reached the exit and spotted a familiar figure standing nearby.

Cheshire was leaning against the wall. He hadn’t spotted Jakub yet, as he was rather distracted lightly slapping his face to stay awake. The sight of him filled Jakub with relief and panic in equal measure, and before he had any idea which would come out of him first he hurried over and latched onto Cheshire’s arm.

Cheshire startled, and when he saw who it was, he went tight as if caught in a bear trap. “Jakub! There you are.”

“What are you doing here?” Jakub demanded, Cheshire’s sleeve tight in his fist.

“I-I heard something happened.” Cheshire shrank a size, and Jakub inwardly cringed at the thought of how he might have looked then, but he couldn’t help it. “You disappeared so suddenly I figured you’d be here with Barney. They said—”

“You can’t go up there,” said Jakub. Cheshire wasn’t quite tactless enough to poke at Barney at a time like this, but he was still obviously halfway sloshed and the thought of the two of them in a room together made Jakub’s heart pound. “It’s family only.”

Cheshire shrugged stiffly. “Wasn’t planning to. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Me?” Jakub stared, reminded of Kasper’s confused muttering. For a beat he even wondered if somehow both men were that concerned about his brief scuffle with the Raptis siblings at the Cherry. “What?”

“Well…you’ve been with Kozlow a long time,” Cheshire said, growing less and less sure of himself with every word. It turned his usually sweet voice sour and Jakub hated the sound of it. “Since you were young? I thought…sorry, I know you don’t like talking about it…?” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand; his other arm, still caught in Jakub’s grip, he kept very still as if fearful of it being wrenched off. “I guess I figured he was like…your old man, in a way. So if he’s sick you’d be worried.”

Jakub continued to stare. Of all the nonsense that could have tumbled out of Cheshire’s mouth he’d never expected a reminder of his father, and it twisted his stomach up into his ribs. The sincere concern threaded through Cheshire’s furrowed brow only made it worse. He didn’t understand how Cheshire could turn sympathy on him when he was already poised to flee, prepared to abandon all in his wake. Just like when he was young.

“Jake?” Cheshire finally risked moving his arm enough to take hold of Jakub’s shoulder; it wasn’t until Jakub had that stability that he realized he was unsteady on his feet, his head spinning. “Sorry,” Cheshire continued to prattle on. “I know you don’t…talk. But you really don’t look good, so….”

Jakub leaned forward. It was the only thing he could do. If only Cheshire would be quiet but sturdy for a while, he could bolt his wits back together, he was sure of it. He could plant his feet and forget again everything that lay behind him.

And Cheshire, damn him, played his part without question. He shut his mouth and wrapped his arm around Jakub’s shoulders in a tight and reassuring hug. His chest accepted the bulk of Jakub’s weight and his collar served as a perfect hiding place. He was probably misinterpreting entirely but Jakub didn’t care; he’d waited years to sink into Cheshire’s warmth, for just a moment to feel that strength and tenderness focused on him alone, and it felt so good he forgot for a while why his hands were shaking. Even if he didn’t have the strength to embrace him back, Cheshire’s soft hair trapped beneath his cheek was enough.

Someone entered through the nearby doorway, and Jakub startled, embarrassment getting the better of him. He leaned quickly back and was relieved when Cheshire let go, only to take his elbow instead. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he muttered. His cheeks went red, and he tried to rub it out of them, as ridiculous as that was. “I’m fine.”

“Okay.” Cheshire watched him, clearly mystified and quieter than normal. “I’m half bent, so I took a cab. It should still be out there, if you want to head home.”

“Yeah.” Jakub took a deep breath and finally was able to pry his fingers off Cheshire’s sleeve; his fingers ached from being so tightly wound. “I have work to do,” he said, and he urged Cheshire through the door, suddenly conscious of how many people may have seen his lapse and too nervous to look. “But you do look bent. Let’s get you home.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

The cab was waiting, and as Jakub helped Cheshire into the back seat everything already felt a little more normal. Once they were settled and driving off, Jakub gulped. “It’s probably a good thing you did that job tonight,” he said, refusing to look up when Cheshire glanced to him. “It’ll keep the Foleys distracted while we deal with the Boss. Plus it’ll be a nice score, once we have a buyer.”

Cheshire didn’t reply right away, as if waiting for Jakub to qualify his praise with a scolding. When none came, he cleared his throat, and Jakub expected some manner of chipper gloating to ensue. But Cheshire only stretched his arm across Jakub’s shoulders and said, “I’ll let the kid know it worked out. And if there’s anything else you need from me, let me know.”

Jakub tensed at first, but gradually he allowed himself to relax against Cheshire’s side. The proximity left him blushing, and when Cheshire fingered the shoulder of his jacket, his heart skipped about in his ribs. But he didn’t bother trying to squirm away. He just needed a little more time.