Chapter 8 – The Next Step

“This is pretty good,” said Cheshire, and he pinched off a third of his Twinkie to pass to Jakub across the table. “Try it!”

Jakub accepted, sucking the cream out of it as he glanced again over the small crowd at the diner. It was an in between kind of time—too late for most to be breakfasting, too early for the worker’s lunch crowd. Only one other booth was occupied and there were three people at the counter: two young boys that looked like they were skipping school, and a young African American woman with a notebook next to her half-eaten bowl of soup. She had done an admirable job so far of pretending not to pay attention to them since coming in, but not admirable enough to avoid him noticing.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Cheshire was saying. In a rare occurrence he had taken off his gloves to eat, and was plucking his Twinkie apart bit by bit. “I don’t particularly care for banana, but when it’s stuffed in cake, it’s not bad at all.”

“Is this really the best place for this meeting?” Jakub asked, holding his hand out for another piece.

Cheshire obliged him. “Public but inconspicuous,” he replied. “Those were the terms.”

“There are a lot of ears here.” Jakub stared straight at the woman, daring her to look over, but she was absorbed in her notebook. Still, he was sure he wasn’t wrong about the attention she was paying them.

“The more the better. ‘Kozlow Cannon and Jakub the Kosiarz spotted in Lower East Manhattan—are they keen to take all of New York City!? That’ll be a nickel, please.’” Cheshire popped the rest of the Twinkie into his mouth.

“Nobody calls me that,” Jakub protested, but just then the door opened with a jingle, and he glanced up. The woman at the counter did as well, both of them watching as Edward Burke bustled inside. He asked a passing waitress to get him a coffee and ducked into the booth next to Cheshire.

“They’re not coming,” he said.

“Not coming?” Cheshire repeated, aghast. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what those words in that sentence means: they are not coming to this diner at the time we agreed upon, did that catch yer ear this time? Pass through it, maybe?”

Cheshire squinted at him. “So…rescheduling?”

“No, of course—” Burke realized a beat too late that he wasn’t serious and rolled his eyes. “How can it be that you haven’t decked this big-mouth whanker by now?” he said to Jakub, looking for maybe a sympathetic groan of agreement for them to bond with. What he got was Jakub’s impatient stare, and he cleared his throat. “Anyway. Their man gave me some shite story about trouble up north’a here. Truth be said I don’t think they’ll be getting out of bed for anything short of a Kozlow.”

“Jake and I are as Kozlow as it gets,” said Cheshire, and though he was smirking as always, Jakub could see the threads of honest irritation he was trying to hide. “And Barney has his own trouble ‘up north’ if you know what I mean, so if Lucky wants to parley with anyone east of the river, it’s going to be us.”

“Didn’t I tell’m that? They’re stubborn as mules.”

The waitress finally appeared to pour them all coffee, and Cheshire small-talked her about her day until she had moved on. “They’re not going to have a choice much longer,” Cheshire resumed. “We own Brooklyn now, and by this time next year we’ll own the entire east. If Lucky and his Manhattan crew don’t want to play ball I’ll lob one over the Hudson, see how he likes us then.”

Burke gave a jagged shrug. “What kind of metaphor is that? What does it mean?”

“It means I know plenty of thirsty Union City boys is what it means,” Cheshire retorted.

“I’m sure ye’do but we’re talking business now, aren’t we?”

“Then maybe you should talk a little louder,” Jakub interrupted. “So our friend at the counter can hear better.”

Both men paused, and while Burke took a drink from his coffee, trying to play cool, Cheshire turned nearly full about to look for himself. His eye twitched with recognition that put Jakub on edge, and sure enough, the woman at the counter that had been eavesdropping had nearly the same expression. After an awkward beat she got up off her stool, gathered her notebook and her satchel, and headed straight for them. With bravery Jakub couldn’t help but admire, she sat herself at the table next to him.

“Hello, Mr. Bloom,” she said with clipped cheer.

“Hi Sally,” Cheshire replied, smiling but on guard as he tugged his gloves back on. “How’s your old man?”

She offered her own tight-lipped smile in return. She looked to be in her late twenties, a sweater vest pulled over button-down, a bowtie at her neck, hair elaborately braided. “Going gray, thanks to you,” she said, and only then did Jakub start to catch on.

“Excuse me,” said Burke, sizing her up. “But this is a private conversation.”

“Oh, Eggy.” Cheshire was suddenly only good humor. Jakub found himself looking for cracks in the mask when he should have been paying full attention to their intruder. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, let alone a reporter.”

Burke continued to eye her suspiciously, so Jakub took it upon himself to offer introductions before things were complicated further. “This must be Sally Alice, of the Metro Daily,” he said. “Daughter of Det. Alice of the 49th.”

“There’s no need for the rest of you to introduce yourselves,” said Sally, adjusting her glasses. “I know who you are, and that you’re a ways from home out here.”

“Says you,” Cheshire replied, stretching his arm across the back of the seat. “I feel very at home here.”

“It does make sense.” Sally glanced between them, and if she was nervous being in the company of three well known Brooklyn gangsters, she didn’t show it. “What king doesn’t want to expand his territory? Two years since you chased Foley out, and Brooklyn belongs to Kozlow. You’ve even got the Borough President eating out of your hand now. The Raptis gang in Astoria has come around and the Szpilmans are putting the screws to Queens. Sending his two biggest guns into Manhattan is the next logical step.”

Burke furrowed his brow at her, but Cheshire only shrugged, amused. “She knows her stuff,” he said.

“If it’s so obvious,” said Jakub, “I can’t imagine it’s going to sell many papers.”

“Oh, I think it will. ‘The more ears the better.’” Sally flashed a smile Cheshire’s way. “Right?”

“Sorry, what are you after then?” said Burke, elbowing Cheshire when he gave her a two-fingered salute. “An interview? A commemorative photo? A blue ribbon?”

“Two out of three would do me fine,” Sally replied. Her ease was beginning to pluck at Jakub’s paranoia, and she must have sensed it, because she toned down the grin. “It wouldn’t be anything incriminating, of course. I caught one of Lucky’s lieutenants at the stadium the other day—he gave me his review of that new restaurant that moved in downtown, Puchello? Readers loved it. So many nickels.”

The interest Cheshire was watching her with struck Jakub as extremely dangerous. “Your readers really care what career criminals have to say about fine dining?”

“Yes, they do!” Sally leaned her elbows against the table and lowered her voice. The flash of her dangling earrings reminded Jakub of fishing lures. “If you’re going to make a splash in Manhattan, you have to understand the climate. Lucky and his crew toppled all the big families to come out on top—his story is already a legend. With the way things are now, those are the stories people want to hear. They want to escape a little, indulge in some adventure. Gangsters like you are the new celebrities, so I figure, why not treat you like it?”

Please don’t tell him that, Jakub thought, inwardly cringing, but when he looked back to Cheshire, he was surprised not to find the wide eyes and grinning excitement he had expected. Cheshire was tempted, clearly, but was suddenly quiet when he should have been beaming. He even looked a little breathless, and Jakub wanted to squirm. What are you thinking? he wondered, all but desperate to know. What’s going on in there—what did she say?

“‘Why not?’” Burke scoffed. “Because you’re likely to end up in a ditch, that’s why not.”

Sally leaned back once more, arms folded, and suddenly Jakub could see a lot of her father in her. “I haven’t reported anything that’s gotten someone in trouble with the cops,” she reasoned. “And I don’t plan to. I’m just giving the public a glimpse into a world they’re curious about, that’s all.” Her tone dipped just slightly. “But if you prefer the kind of coverage every other newspaper offers your type, that’s fine, too.”

“‘Our type,’” Cheshire repeated, eyebrow raised. “Yeah.” Sally stared straight back at him, the air suddenly thick with some mysterious history they shared. “Your type in particular.”

“Oh, Sally,” said Cheshire, and his tone changed, too. It gave Jakub goose bumps. “Please don’t hurt my feelings like that.”

Burke glanced between them, shrinking a little in his seat. Jakub, too, couldn’t stop himself from staring openly at each of them in turn. What is this? he thought, his curiosity intensifying into anger. How do they know each other anyway? What is she talking about? After a few beats Sally relented, her posture growing slack. There might have even been fear in her eyes when she broke Cheshire’s eye contact. What does she know?

“Just think about it,” she said, and she reached into her satchel, pulling out a business card to slide across the table. “The Calypso Theatre is going to be showing a brand new motion picture at their October festival a month from now. It’s supposed to be inspired by some big shot Chicago gangster. You’re going to have an opinion about it so you might as well let me know what it is, right?” Sally called up her confident smile from earlier as she climbed out of the booth. “Ring me.”

“We won’t,” said Jakub, though he wasn’t fast enough to keep Cheshire from tucking the card into his vest pocket. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Enjoy your day in Manhattan,” said Sally, and she tossed a few bills next to her bowl at the counter on her way out.

“Okay thanks then!” Burke called after her, craning back to watch her leave. Once the door had shut with a jingle he whipped forward again. “Out of her bloody mind, wasn’t she? Strolling up on us like that, knowing who we are.”

“She has her father’s courage,” Jakub agreed, eyeing Cheshire, who was watching her out the diner window. He cleared his throat loudly.

Cheshire startled, and when he looked back, he was completely back to normal. “Damn right she does!” he said, and he chuckled as he stole Burke’s coffee. “How about that, huh? We could be real Manhattan celebrities.”

“It may sell some papers but it doesn’t do anything for us,” said Jakub. “Maybe make the police that much more eager to catch us.”

“It’d be good for me,” Cheshire reasoned. He took a long sip from Burke’s cup, to his dismay. “If I’m popular, that means less people wanting to testify against me.”

“It means more attention, which means more people wanting to testify against you to get some for themselves,” Jakub countered. “If Lucky enjoys the press he’s not about to share it with you, and he has plenty of men he can sacrifice on the stand. All it takes is one saying he saw you use your magic and Alice will pounce.”

Cheshire shrugged. “Alice has nothing on me.”

Burke glared at his cup and then back to Cheshire. “Ye’re sure on that? Because Ms. Sally sure made it sound like she’s read you cover to cover.”

“Neither Alice has anything on me,” Cheshire insisted, but Jakub saw through him that time. “Let’s get going—we’re wasting our time here.”

Cheshire paid for the three of them, and they returned to the car. With Cheshire behind the wheel they headed back across town toward the East River, he and Burke complaining about Manhattan manners while Jakub only partially listened. He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Cheshire had looked at Sally, and the way she had wilted as if afraid. It made his skin crawl.

They were still a few blocks from the bridge when traffic ground to a halt. All cars in the eastward lanes were stopped and a few drivers were even out of their cars, leaning against the doors as if having been waiting for a long time already. Jakub leaned out his window and caught a glimpse of people milling about in the streets, some with signs, raised voices carrying up and down the lane.

“Protesters,” he said, leaning further out to read the nearby shop signs. “Looks like they marched right up to the bread line.”

“Jobless, hungry, angry,” muttered Burke with a sympathetic shake of his head. “Terrible combination. Times being what they are, Ms. Sally might be right about people needing their escapes.”

“Shame,” Cheshire agreed. “Ours is the only booming business left, hm?”

Jakub ducked back into the car. “There’s nothing we can do about it yet. Once the Borough President pushes through the construction permits the boss will have new housing buildings going up. That will at least generate some jobs. For our side of the river, anyway.”

Cheshire hummed distractedly as he leaned into his palm. He went quiet again, and Jakub kept a close eye, vibrating in his seat. He had built up a pretty strong instinct for when a bad idea was circling Cheshire’s brain. Sure enough, Cheshire spotted something in his side mirror a moment later that put mischief in his face.

“I bet,” said Cheshire, “I can be a celebrity for less than a nickel.”

Jakub’s heart skipped. “What?” It was too late—Cheshire was twisting his door open. “Chesh, what?”

“Burke, get behind the wheel,” Cheshire said as he climbed from the car. “See if you can backtrack and get to the next street over, meet us at the bridge.”

“The hell?” Burke leaned forward between the seats, but Cheshire was already out, Jakub quickly following suit. “Where do you think you’re going? Oy!”

Jakub jumped out of the passenger side and hurried to catch up to Cheshire, who was striding down the line of stopped cars behind them. “Chesh! What are you planning to do?”

“It’s not really a plan,” Cheshire admitted, but he was grinning broadly and nothing could stop him. “It’s more like a hypothesis.”

“What are you—” Jakub looked ahead of them and finally spotted it himself: a delivery truck that had had its sides painted over, only a bare hint of a logo showing through. It took Jakub a beat to understand Cheshire’s intentions, and he grabbed him by the elbow. “Cheshire, no.”

“You didn’t even ask what it was!” Cheshire tried to urge Jakub off his arm as they reached the cab of the truck. “Come on, Jay, didn’t you ever play Robin Hood as a kid?”

“No!” Jakub sputtered, but when Cheshire tugged free, he couldn’t bring himself to try and halt him again. Finally, Cheshire was beaming. “There are cops up there you know.”

“So we just won’t get caught,” Cheshire reasoned, and it was ridiculous, but then he was rapping on the truck’s driver side door, and there was no time left to argue.

The driver rolled down his window and glared at them. “What?”

“You scraped my car back there, you blind pigeon- head,” Cheshire sneered at him, doing a well-practiced imitation of his drunker self. “Y’owe me a bumper!”

“What?” The driver took the cigar from his mouth and snuffed it out on the dashboard. “The hell I did.”

“You owe me a bumper,” Cheshire insisted, and he reared back and kicked the door, denting it.

“Hey! You drunk sonuva—” The driver undid his seatbelt and reached for the door handle. “I’m gonna knock you flat for that!”

As soon as he started to open the door Cheshire grabbed it from him, yanking it open much faster than the man had intended. Off balance and angled down, he had no defense as Cheshire heaved him into the street. Without a backward glance Cheshire climbed into the cab, and Jakub followed, cursing under his breath as he took the driver’s seat.

“This is ridiculous,” said Jakub, even as he shifted into drive.

“You’re doing great,” Cheshire replied. “Just take us down the empty lane as close as you can to the riot.”

Jakub hit the gas, and the truck scraped loudly against the bumper of the car ahead of it as he pulled into the empty lane. “It’s not a riot,” he said, ignoring the confused and angry shouts of the driver behind them. “But it’s about to be.”

“A happy riot,” Cheshire assured him, full grin back in place. “Try to pull up and to the left.”

They reached the intersection that had been taken over by the chanting mob, and Jakub had to admit, it was a pitiable sight: ragged folks with skinny faces, railing against the city that was failing to provide for them. Almost fifty people had crowded and he laid on the horn to get them to back away. Following Cheshire’s gesturing, he turned hard at the end of the lane, very nearly front-ending the next car waiting at the immobile traffic signal. As they stopped, the chanting quieted to murmurs of apprehension.

“Don’t whip them up,” Jakub warned as he followed Cheshire out the passenger side door. “People are going to get hurt.”

“It’ll be fine!” Cheshire didn’t break stride as he headed to the back of the truck. Using his body to shield the view from the crowd, he popped the lock off the bay with a burst of magic, and then opened the door for all to see.

The truck was full, floor to roof, with crates of breads and canned goods. Even having suspected as much Jakub was still shocked by the sight, and he leaned back to see the side of the truck. Many delivery vehicles had taken to covering their ensignia during the years of economic depression, to avoid… exactly what Cheshire was up to then. But on this one there was a space rubbed clear, enough to make out the familiar cursive script of the Olivier Luxury Hotel.

“Line up!” Cheshire shouted, and people began to crowd forward, stunned. “Come get your share, special donation from the Metro Daily!”

All at once everyone surged forward, and Jakub scrambled into the back of the truck with Cheshire to avoid being trampled. The police that had gathered in hopes of steering the protesters looked on, gobsmacked, as the pair of them began passing boxes and crates down into the hands of the desperate and eager. “Don’t shove!” Cheshire tried to guide them at first, urging those that had gotten a box to step aside. “There’s plenty!”

This is insane, Jakub thought, sweating as he watched the police finally rallying, drawn by what must have been the truck driver shouting and cursing at them from further down the street. He joined Cheshire in unloading the crates just to try and get it over with, but when he lowered a box of canned strawberry jam into the outstretched arms of a teary-eyed woman, his heart gave a heavy thud. On impulse he snatched a loaf of bread from a nearby crate to add to her bundle.

“Bless you,” the woman said, and she darted away, dodging outstretched hands.

“Don’t push—be careful!” Cheshire continued to holler. “There’s plenty to go around!” When two more climbed into the truck to help push supplies to the front, he leaned out of their way. Despite the reckless absurdity of it all Jakub had to admit Cheshire looked rather incredible then, bright-eyed and exuberant, infinitely pleased with himself. He even shrugged out of his suit coat and tossed it to a young man in the crowd. “If you can’t pawn it for at least twenty dollars, bring it back to me in Brooklyn!” he called. “And I’ll buy off you!” He laughed merrily and it made Jakub weak.

“Hey!” Officers in uniform pushed their way through the jostling crowd. Though there was heavy resistance there were plenty of them, and more gathering. “Get down off of there!”

“Sure thing,” Cheshire replied, and he looked to Jakub. “That’s our cue.”

Each of them grabbed the side of the truck and swung free. With most of the crowd focused on the bay, they were able to split up down the sides of the growing mass and make a run for it. A cop grabbed Jakub by the arm but he wrenched free and kept going, and by the time he glanced back, the police were too busy trying to wrangle the half dozen people swarming into the truck to bother with hampering their escape.

Jakub lost sight of Cheshire. He strained his ears, expecting that if there was trouble a distant boom would give it away, but everything was drowned out by the mob and car horns. As soon as he was away from the commotion, he slowed, lighting a cigarette for a calm, non-attention-grabbing walk toward the river.

He spotted Burke and the car in the parking lot of a florist just off the road to the bridge. As soon as he let himself into the passenger side, Burke turned on him.

“Christ! Where’s Bloom?” Burke wiped sweat from his brow. “Don’t tell me he got himself arrested.”

“I don’t think so,” Jakub said, and just then he saw Cheshire dash out of an alley and cross the street toward them. “Start the car.”

Burke muttered curses as he did so, and he pulled out into the street. Cheshire threw himself into the back seat and off they went, speeding toward the Williamsburg Bridge. Jakub turned in his seat to see who might be following them, but the traffic was sparse, and despite Cheshire breathing heavily he didn’t see any police on their tail.

“Slow down, Burke,” Jakub said. “We’re clear.”

“Like hell we are!” said Burke, though he did slow down. He glared at Cheshire in the rear view mirror. “What got in you, huh? Pulling a stunt like that in broad daylight.” He shook his head, but Jakub could see him suppressing a grin. “The boss is going to serve you yer own arse, with garnish.”

“How would he know?” Cheshire replied with a laugh, but then he leaned forward between the seats and lowered his voice, not unlike how he had with Sally in the diner. “You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

Jakub wasn’t sure if he was trying to lend gravity to his teasing, or using teasing to damper his earlier gravity, but either way, he didn’t like it. “Word will get around,” he said. “It’ll be a good measure of how well known you are in Manhattan already.”

“Right?” Cheshire was all cheer again as he flopped back in his seat. “We undermined Manhattan’s ‘celebrities’ and showed Sally she has nothing to offer we can’t get ourselves. And helped out some hungry people.” He folded his arms behind his head. “That’s what I call good karma.”

“Ye’re bonkers,” Burke insisted, failing this time to stop a smile. “Bloody bonkers.” But Cheshire was too pleased with himself to accept any criticism, and despite the oddity of the diner earlier, Jakub couldn’t bring himself to offer any.

They spent the rest of their free afternoon around the usual stomping grounds, checking in with the businesses under their protection, ears wide open for gossip. If nothing else Cheshire had been right about one thing: Brooklyn belonged to them. Two years since the Rooly sheet metal plant burned to ashes and people still referenced it often, would slap Cheshire on the back or compliment his scar. Some that knew him better might tease or roll their eyes, but he was always welcome, and he never failed to divert their attention back to Kozlow as a whole, rather than claiming singular credit…though admittedly, in a sing-song way most found hard to take seriously. But with business good and Kozlow more or less a household name, who could complain about Cheshire’s antics?

By late afternoon Cheshire had given up on trying to buy Burke a sensible necktie to go with his jacket, and as they reached their building he followed Jakub up to his apartment. “He’s got that incredible brick-red hair,” he chatted along the way. “He ought to wear something that brings it out. Like a nice green. If it’s going to be purple it might as well be indigo, not lavender, really.”

“I thought he looked fine,” said Jakub, and as expected Cheshire hurried his steps to put them side by side, slinging his arm over Jakub’s shoulders.

“Really?” Cheshire pressed, leaning into him. “No, really?”

“Really,” Jakub replied, and he let them into the apartment.

“Guess I’m outnumbered, then.” Cheshire shrugged and let him go as they stepped inside. He dropped onto the sofa and stretched out like he belonged there while Jakub set aside his jacket and gun holster. “But I’m still going to buy him something when he’s not looking. Then he’ll be morally obligated to wear it at least once, and then you’ll both be convinced.”

Jakub turned back, watching as Cheshire kicked off his shoes and made himself comfortable. It wasn’t so unusual now, Cheshire inviting himself in. He seemed to have taken a liking to that sofa in particular, as ironic as Jakub found that, considering his hungover history with it. Maybe he didn’t even remember most of that chaotic night. But Jakub liked it whenever he looked to that corner of the room and found Cheshire there. It wasn’t like the fluttering anxiety of his youth—it was reassuring, in a way. Softer and heavier at once.

Jakub sat on the armrest by Cheshire’s feet. “Chesh,” he said, even then not sure if he would go through with it. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” said Cheshire, folding his hands on his stomach. “Anything.”

He didn’t actually mean “anything,” but Jakub went ahead. “What does Sally have on you?”

Cheshire gulped, but he fought hard to keep any apprehension out of his face. “Nothing, like I said.”

“What does Sally think she has on you?” Jakub persisted. “Because it sure sounded like she was insinuating something about you this morning.”

Cheshire rolled his eyes away, playing for comedy, but Jakub’s continued stare wore him down. After much hemming he finally said, “Do you remember Shane Foley?” and Jakub sat up straighter. “Well, she thinks I killed him, way back then. Her dad, too.”

Jakub’s brow furrowed as he thought back, and suddenly he remembered that strange night in May, Cheshire trembling in the shower as he washed blood out of his hair. He turned to better face him and leaned his elbows against his knees. “Did you?”

“No,” Cheshire said quickly, but then he pulled a face. “Maybe.” He tugged his glasses off, using his necktie to wipe away a smudge. “Probably? It was a long time ago.”

Jakub remembered the blood flowing down the drain. Remembered Cheshire asking him to stay. “Did you use your magic on him?” he asked.

He wasn’t even fully sure what he was asking. He had seen Cheshire set aflame all sorts of things, from matches to buildings, but a person…. His imagination lurched into that unknown space and he was relieved when Cheshire cut it short. “No,” Cheshire said. He put his glasses back on and shot Jakub a half wince. “It doesn’t work like that.” Jakub relaxed again. “So what did happen?”

“We got into a scrape over cigarettes,” Cheshire explained, much more at ease and like himself. “Him and his lackeys. I knocked his head open against the wall of an alley.” He grimaced at the memory. “It bled a lot. So I ran. After that, I dunno.”

“Self defense in an alley fight,” Jakub mused. “That’s far from the worst we’ve done.”

“Yeah, but it was the best Alice had on me, at the time. He never let it go and I guess he passed that on to his daughter. Besides, we were kids back then.” Cheshire grabbed the back of the sofa to help sit him up. He leaned into his palm, his smile crooked. “I wasn’t tough like you—it was a big deal to me. I felt terrible about it.” He chuckled. “Honestly, I’m still not tough like you.”

“You don’t have to be,” Jakub told him. Cheshire’s smile was wry and charming, a near perfect complement to his grinning enthusiasm from earlier, and it eased away the rest of Jakub’s worries from the diner. “You’re just fine.”

Cheshire’s smile deepened. “Thanks,” he said, and Jakub beamed internally with the accomplishment of having offered him what he needed to hear. “You’ve cornered the market on ‘toughness’ anyway.”

“If you say so,” Jakub replied, and he made the mistake of letting his lip curl just so, enough for Cheshire to interpret as a smile and launch into a round of teasing. Jakub endured with glares and sighs, but inwardly he couldn’t have been happier. This is all I want, he thought as they traded barbs. He doesn’t need me as a lover, he needs someone to really see him, as a friend. I can be that for him. There was a knock on the door, and he was forced to abandon the sofa to answer. This is enough.

He opened the door to round-face, floppy-haired Leon Szpilman, who was holding his cap in his hands, looking harried. “Jakub!” he said, and when he glanced past him and saw Cheshire, he jumped. “Bloom! Oh, you’re here, too?”

Jakub stepped back so he could enter, though he was suddenly reluctant to. Cheshire, on the other hand, grinned happily at seeing him. “Leon, it’s been a while!” said Cheshire. “How are you?”

“Well, I’m….” Leon glanced between the two of them awkwardly. There was a bitter twinge to his expression that reminded Jakub briefly of Grace, which tipped him off. “Actually, I’m in some trouble. We all are.”

Jakub headed back to his gun holster on the dresser while Cheshire swung his feet to the floor. “What kind of trouble?” asked Cheshire, sounding too eager. “The kind that might want to explode?”

“Well….” Leon rustled his hair. “Barney’s going to hate that I got you involved. But fuck it. The Townshead Gang knocked over one of our clubs in Forest Hills an hour ago. Broad daylight! They made off with twelve cases.”

“Son of a….” Cheshire yanked his shoes back on and pushed to his feet. “Where’d those kids get the stones to pull off something like that?”

Jakub tugged his jacket on over his revolver. “Barney said he’d already dealt with Townshead.”

“Yeah, but it….” Leon shrugged helplessly. “They didn’t agree, I guess.” He lowered his voice as both men came closer. “Listen—I’ve been telling him for weeks we’re spread too thin. But he keeps saying he’ll handle it, he’ll handle it. What can I do? I can’t go telling him ‘I told you so and now Townshead made off with your liquor,’ that’s what I can’t do.”

“So you’re asking us to handle it,” said Jakub. “Without him finding out.”

“Well I didn’t know that….” Leon cast Cheshire a sideways glance, who had the decency to look embarrassed by it. “If it’s both of you there’s no way he’s not finding out. But at least I can tell him after it’s over.”

“I can be discreet,” Cheshire said, and when Leon made a face at him, he brushed past him toward the door. “It’s Jakub you should worry about.”

Jakub watched him go, frowning. “We’ll handle Townshead,” he told Leon. “How many were there?”

“Just three. Skinny kids—desperate.”

“All right. Get back to the bar and clean up.” Seeing Leon was still wary, Jakub added, “I’m not going to tell Barney or Hannah, and neither is he.”

“Okay.” Leon nodded and then fixed his cap on.

“Thanks, Jakub.”

Cheshire was waiting by the stairwell, fussing with his gloves. “I’ll meet you at the car,” he said. “I want to stop at my room and grab a jacket.”

Jakub followed Leon into the elevator. “Make sure it’s one you wouldn’t mind ruining,” he warned. “Townshead is small time but it could get ugly.”

“Aye aye,” said Cheshire, and with a salute he headed down the stairs.

***

They met at the car, Cheshire in an old gray jacket that had long since fallen out of his favor. If casting off his meet- the-Manhattan-gang jacket hadn’t been excuse enough, having another singed with ash would certainly mean he was well within his rights to go on a shopping spree. The local tailors were sure to appreciate his business in their hard times.

At least, they would welcome him more than Leon Szpilman, apparently. Cheshire took the passenger seat while Jakub the wheel. He couldn’t help squirming. “Figures, huh?” he said. As curious as he was to know what Jakub thought of the awkward exchange upstairs, he wasn’t about to ask him outright. Not when dancing around the subject was still completely viable. “Us, cleaning up after Barney.”

“He’s working on a lot right now,” Jakub said diplomatically. “The boss is really eager to expand, and his wife is pregnant. His hands are full.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Cheshire chewed his lip. It should have been so easy just to let it drop. “You really think he’ll lose his top if he finds out I’m bailing his ass out? Leon seems to think he’s just that sore on me, but we’re all in this together. Right?”

“Barney knows how valuable you are.” Jakub hesitated a beat, just long enough for Cheshire to know what was coming. “You should be more worried about him finding out you slept with his brother-in-law.”

Cheshire grimaced. You asked for it, dummy, he thought, pushing his hair back. “It’s not like that.”

“So you didn’t?”

“No, I did—we did.” Cheshire watched Jakub’s face, but as ever he was an impossible read. It made him dizzy. “But it’s not like I set out to, you know? It just kind of happened.”

Jakub didn’t look convinced or impressed, and he certainly didn’t ask for Cheshire to explain further. Cheshire did anyway. “It was a few months ago—when Barney announced to everyone that Wanda’s expecting. We were all so drunk, and you weren’t around, it just…seemed like a not terrible idea at the time.”

Jakub’s gaze latched onto him. “What do I have to do with anything?”

“What?” Suddenly Cheshire couldn’t remember what he’d just said—what he had ever said, about anything. Jakub staring at him as they stopped at a traffic light bleached his memory. “What’d I say?”

“You said you were drunk and ‘I wasn’t around,’” said Jakub, which made it sound at least three times as incriminating when paired with his downturned eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Uh….” Cheshire gulped. “I mean, usually when I’m about to do something stupid, you give me that glare. And it reminds me that it’s stupid.”

Jakub’s brow intensified, but then the light changed, and he had to look forward to continue driving. “I don’t glare at you,” he muttered.

Cheshire couldn’t help a bark of laughter, which only earned him a new round of exactly that glare. “You do!” he said. “You do a lot, actually.” He turned in his seat to face Jakub better. There was a buzz behind his ribs that he had grown more and more accustomed to the last two years: an anxious, childish energy when Jakub fixed him with that mysterious expression that was half murderous, half magnetic. But he couldn’t put a name to it let alone express it. “Increasingly the last few months, even.”

Were Jakub’s cheeks suddenly red? The sun was dipping through the buildings, making it hard to tell. “If I do, it’s not doing any good,” said Jakub. “You stealing that truck today was pretty stupid, too.”

“That was different,” said Cheshire, and then the truth tumbled out. “Part of it was I really did hope it would keep you from asking about Sally.”

Jakub snorted quietly as if he had already suspected as much. Then he asked, “What was the other part, then?”

“I just wanted to.” Cheshire chewed on the rest of his answer a while, no intention of saying it until the words were suddenly out. “My family didn’t grow up with much. I hate seeing hungry people.”

As far as Cheshire could remember, it was the most he had ever said about his life before Kozlow, and the significance was not lost on Jakub: he glanced to Cheshire with surprise, and all the tension unfurled from his brow. After a considerable pause he replied, “Mine, either.” Another rare gem that hung between them for a while as they continued the drive to the east.

And then Jakub’s eyes narrowed again. “Are you only telling me that because you’re hoping I won’t ask you more about Leon?”

Cheshire laughed nervously. “There’s not much more to say,” he admitted. “He said he didn’t want anyone to find out, and I agreed, but then he was mad at me for pretending it didn’t happen, which I thought was what he wanted?” He shrugged, hoping that Jakub and that glare of his wouldn’t be able to dig out his honest frustration over the ordeal. Was it really so terrible to be known as someone who had slept with Cheshire Bloom? “But it’s over, now. I’m sorry he’s holding a grudge but I don’t know what I could have done differently, other than… not drinking, I guess.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and looked to Jakub, who was finally focusing entirely on the road. “Are you mad?”

“Why would I be mad?” Jakub asked back, his tone utterly flatlining. “It’s none of my business unless it affects the gang.”

“It doesn’t, because it’s over,” said Cheshire. “It wasn’t really anything to begin with.”

“I know—I just said it’s none of my business.”

Cheshire settled back in his seat. Now was the time to let it drop, surely. But as he watched Jakub’s profile he couldn’t help but scrutinize if his cheeks really were darker than normal. He thought of all the drunken evenings he’d passed with Jakub tucked under his arm and wondered what might have happened if he had held him a little tighter, stuck around a little longer.

Probably get your face mauled, he presumed, and he smiled to himself, that tingle back in his chest. Like a bear. There were definitely worse fates. “Last I heard, the Townshead Gang was hanging around some body shop by the parkway. But Barney said he chased them out of there.”

“It’s worth a look,” said Jakub. “That’s not far from the bar.”

The sun had set by the time they reached Forest Hills, only a dull orange glow on the horizon already diminishing. They parked across the street from the body shop, in the parking lot of an apartment complex, and there waited a while to see if there was any activity. The “closed” sign had already been flipped and there was no sign of movement through the office windows. “Leon said there were only three that showed up to the bar,” said Jakub. “Bold for a grab and run.”

“Think they’re dumb enough to retreat straight back to a known hideout?” asked Cheshire, leaning against the dashboard.

“One way to find out.” Jakub opened his door. “Take the wheel and drive up like you’re a customer. I’ll find a back entrance.”

“Always happy to be a diversion,” Cheshire replied cheerily, and he scooted behind the wheel as Jakub exited.

Jakub crossed the street, lighting a cigarette as he went.

He looked entirely inconspicuous and Cheshire couldn’t help but admire him. Jakub’s unfaltering composure never failed to give him confidence. Once he had given Jakub plenty of time to get around the back of the building, he pulled into the shop’s lot and strolled up to the door.

“Hello?” Cheshire called, rapping on front window. “My Plymouth could use some work!”

He didn’t hear any kind of response, but as he peered through the window, he could see a light source from further in the shop suddenly go out. “No one’s happy to see me today,” Cheshire said to himself as he gripped the door handle. All it took was a jiggle for him to get an idea of the locking mechanism, and with a quick glance around to make sure no one was immediately around, he blew the lock out with a controlled boom.

We’re gonna get our own guys in this shop eventually anyway, Cheshire thought as he let himself in. “Hey, are you guys still open?”

Finally, life: a can clanged against the concrete floor somewhere deeper in the building, followed by a man cursing, and then frantic attempts to shush him. It was music to Cheshire’s ears. “The sign said you’re open!” he continued to taunt as he moved deeper into the shop, eyes sweeping back and forth. There were a half dozen cars lined up along the shop, most with engines exposed or partially deconstructed, along with work benches and large machinery. Plenty of places for inexperienced gangsters to hide out in. “Do you have parts for a 1928 Model A?”

“Is it a Model A?” called a man from the far end. “Or is it a Plymouth?”

Cheshire followed the voice, his fingers curling in anticipation. “One of each. I drove them both out here at the same time. Across two lanes.”

A man emerged from behind the last car, tall and narrow, a terrible haircut. Cheshire stopped and let him approach, slipping his hands into his pockets to hide his energy. Poor thing looked like a strong wind would have bowled him over. “Mr. Bloom,” he said, and Cheshire tried very hard not to grin at having been recognized so easily. “I’m terribly sorry but we’re closed for the night.”

Cheshire started to reply, but was cut off by a shout from the rear door, a heavy thud, and a body hitting the floor. When the man tried to turn to see, Cheshire grabbed him by the arm to keep him from going far. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Because it sure sounds like business going on back there.”

Another Townshead boy emerged, bleeding from the nose, hands behind his head. Jakub had his gun out and walked him over to them. The new man looked nervous, but not quite nervous enough for Cheshire’s liking, and it made him wary.

“We’re only asking once,” said Jakub, thumbing back the hammer of his revolver. “Where’s the booze?”

The first man raised his hands in surrender as well. He looked anxiously to Cheshire. “It wasn’t supposed to be you,” he muttered.

Cheshire didn’t have the chance to ask what that meant. “We drank it already,” the second man said, loudly. “All twelve cases!”

From behind the lines of cars, Cheshire could hear boots scuffing on the concrete. What had started as a sour taste in his mouth quickly became serious concern as another seven men came out of hiding, three with guns, the rest brandishing heavy pipes and baseball bats. Each looked apprehensive but resolute as they surrounded the pair, most eyes on Cheshire.

Cheshire hid his apprehension behind a smirk. “Oh, I see,” he taunted. “The booze was bait all along, huh?” He took his hands out of his pockets, slowly, while glancing at each of their attackers in turn. “Are you sure you want to go through with this? You’re not going to have as easy a time with me as you would have with Barney.”

The men shifted, and in the pause Cheshire glanced to Jakub. Like always Jakub gave away very little. Though his gun was still aimed at the bloody-nosed goon in front of him, his attention was on a broader man with a shotgun stepping around the back of a busted Ford truck. If we can get the three with the guns first, we’ll be all right, he thought, and he thought he saw the same in Jakub. He’ll take that one. He drew his focus to the other two brandishing handguns, who both happened to be standing next to an oil drum. Then I can—

“Get’m!” someone yelled, and everything started moving much too fast. Jakub swerved behind his captive as a shield while firing on the man with the shotgun. Cheshire exploded the barrel in a flash of fire and spraying liquid and sending the men on either side flying. From then on it was chaos, the remaining men charging forward with their crude weapons swinging. Cheshire managed to light up an arching baseball bat, shielding himself from the splinters, but the skinny bastard jumped him, holding and distracting him long enough for a pipe to catch him in the stomach. It took the wind straight out of him, and he had to resort to fighting back with his fists. As rusty as he was in a brawl, he did have enough height and weight on his side to knock his two attackers back, just in time for a third to pounce on him from behind.

“You nasty, cheating—” Cheshire was cut off by a length of pipe being forced under his chin. He threw himself back, ramming the man up against a workbench, but it wasn’t nearly enough to dislodge him. It certainly didn’t help against Mr. Narrow taking a cheap shot to his solar plexus. Cheshire gasped and choked, kicking, but it was a bullet through the man’s neck that finally felled him.

There wasn’t time for thanks; Cheshire heaved himself forward, flipping the goon over his shoulder. He had to grab up his glasses as he righted himself, focusing just in time to put a fire in the handgun one of their attackers was trying to retrieve from the floor. Using the pipe that had only moments ago been used on him, he cracked another Townshead boy across the jaw and turned, breathless and reeling. “Jakub!”

Jakub was throwing one of his own goons into the rear windshield of a shop car. There was blood on his face that looked like his own and his eyes were wild and angry. He didn’t see the heavily-muscled figure behind him. With the smoke from the burning barrel even Cheshire couldn’t be sure at first, but then he saw firelight glinting off a length of polished metal. By the time he realized it was a knife it was already streaking down, and his palms burned.

***

Even with the ambush, it should have been a simple counter-raid. Jakub took out the shotgun-wielding goon first, and even with the others swarming he was able to hold his own, whipping his revolver across the face of one, shooting another off of Cheshire. Even when a wild punch struck him across the mouth, bloodying his lips, he didn’t doubt he could handle it.

He sent the man crashing through a car window.

But he wasn’t ready for the knife. He looked for Cheshire and was confused to find him looking back, his expression contorted in warning. Only then did he look behind him and realize the danger. It rushed at him attached to a heavy arm, too fast and too well-aimed. He was half turned and off balance, and it was all he could do to throw his hand up in a block. Though he managed to catch the man’s wrist against the back of his palm, the blade sliced across his fingers, and he couldn’t put any greater strength into his defense. He was certain that in a moment the brute would put his weight into the attack and he’d feel the knife in his throat.

The metal flared, and instinctually Jakub turned his head away. Heat seared his entire left side and a roar smothered his ears. The pain from the blade wound splintered outward across his arm like streaks of lightning and then evaporated, and he stumbled into the nearby car, bewildered, disoriented. His lungs were full of smoke. He tried to right himself, wary of a follow up attack from the swinging knife, but his knees were suddenly shaking and could barely hold him.

“Jakub!” called a familiar voice, and he sagged with relief as Cheshire pulled him away from the car. “Let’s get out of here!”

Jakub was too dazed to respond, but he followed, depending on Cheshire’s strength to tug him along. Explosions rippled down the line of the shop, each one resonating in Jakub’s chest. He could feel the heat of Cheshire’s sigil flare against his elbow with every boom. The building wasn’t large but it seemed to take hours for them to reach the exit, and finally they were out in clean air again. Jakub took a deep breath and felt as if the breeze were whistling through him.

As they reached the car Cheshire let go of him so they could split up to their doors, but as soon as Jakub was on his own strength he stumbled, crashing into the car’s hood. He tried to catch himself but he ended up slumping to one side. He was shaking. Confused, he looked down.

What remained of Jakub’s forearm was charred red and black. The skin was shriveled and blistered along his palm and wrist, stripped away to reveal shards of fractured bone. Three of his fingers had been blown completely off, not even the knuckles remaining. He stared, not comprehending. He wasn’t even in any pain. But when he tried to move his remaining forefinger, a strip of flesh slipped from the bone, and his vision swam.

“Jakub?” Cheshire came back around the car, and Jakub lifted his head just in time to see his face whiten with a look of horror. Finally, it broke through to him what had happened and how seriously he was hurt. He tried to stand himself up, but the ground was already spinning and lurching beneath his feet, and the last thing he remembered was collapsing into Cheshire’s outstretched arms.

***

“Jakub!” Cheshire managed to catch Jakub just as he fell, but he was shaking, and he wasn’t confident that he’d be able to hold him long. The sight of the mangled arm turned his stomach and strangled his throat, and he could barely breathe let alone move. I did that, he thought, mortified nearly out of his wits. I did this.

Jakub’s head lolled against his chest, and all at once he was moving again. Without pausing for conscious thought he scooped Jakub up and hurried to the side door, tucking him into the back seat. “I’m sorry,” he choked out as he dove behind the wheel. “Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Cheshire wasn’t as familiar with the area, and he sped down the parkway, desperately seeking lights or signage for medical help. By the time he spotted and pulled into the closest hospital he was soaked with sweat and half faint. After laying on the horn a few times he leapt from the cab and rushed to the back. Jakub was still deeply unconscious and didn’t make a sound as Cheshire lifted him out of the car. His pale face and strained expression spurred Cheshire on as he dashed up to the building, shouting, “Hey! I need help!”

An officer was already at the door, having been drawn by the car horn. Upon seeing Cheshire he held it open for him and began shouting inside. Cheshire couldn’t make out any words. He charged into the hospital, and as a pair of orderlies approached with a gurney, he laid Jakub onto it without a thought given to whether it was meant for him. “Please,” he said, not to anyone in particular, because by then everything was a blur. “Please help him.”

They wheeled Jakub away, through a set of double doors and out of sight. Cheshire watched for as long as he could and then backed away. His pulse was hammering and he had no idea what to do with himself. Then the officer from earlier took his elbow and steered him into a chair. “Sir, are you hurt?” he asked, with more concern than Cheshire was used to receiving from cops, by far. “Do you need a doctor?”

“No.” Cheshire wiped the ash from his glasses and then patted himself down. His ribs and neck were bruised but otherwise the worst he’d suffered was a smear of blood across his suit front from carrying Jakub from the car. He pressed his hand to his mouth briefly to keep from gagging. “No, I’m all right.”

“What’s your name, son?”

Cheshire grimaced, and he looked up at the officer blearily: it was an older man with a thick mustache, his face creased with wrinkles. He might not have recognized Brooklyn’s most flamboyant gangster, but as soon as word about the shop got out, there would be other officers, other detectives that certainly would. Now was the time to start thinking of a convincing lie. But Cheshire could only think about Jakub collapsing against him, his skin grotesquely torn.

“Is there a phone?” Cheshire asked, using the officer’s

arm to help him stand up. “I need to make a call.”

“Slow down,” the officer said, but Cheshire didn’t have any trouble shouldering past him in search of a pay phone. “I need you to tell me what happened to that young man you brought in.”

“I will—I will. I just have to call someone first.”

There were lines of payphones against the far wall, but Cheshire’s hands shook as he rustled through his pockets looking for change. The officer handed him a nickel. You’d better think of something by the time you finish this call, Cheshire thought, gulping, as he dialed. These doctors aren’t on our payroll.

“Hello, who’s this?” Burke answered after the third ring. “It’s me,” said Cheshire, leaning into the phone even though there was no hope of him not being overheard. “I need you to come to the hospital up on the parkway in Forest Hills.

Right now.”

“What the hell are you doing way out there?”

“Just come, all right? As soon as you can.” He winced.

“And don’t tell Hannah,” he added, and then he hung up.

“All right, now come sit down,” the officer said, and when Cheshire glanced back he realized a second had joined him: a young woman who was eyeing him suspiciously, a hand on her weapon. She recognized him, for sure. “We just want to know what happened.”

He could hear the bells of a fire truck in the distance. It wouldn’t take a Detective Alice to put two and two together, especially if the woman already had his number. He couldn’t remember if any of the Townshead boys had still been moving by the time he and Jakub made their escape but he had to assume at least one had made it out and was willing to testify. Had they left anything behind? What options were there?

“Okay,” said Cheshire. “I’ll tell you everything.”

The elder officer led him into a small office near the entrance, and he even offered Cheshire a glass of water, which he gratefully accepted. The woman stayed by the door, still fingering her holster. “I’m still not entirely sure what happened,” said Cheshire, slouching in his chair, trying to appear as non- threatening as possible. “My friend and I were called out to that auto shop down the street. Elmer’s, I think it’s called? We were invited.”

“And who are you that Elmer is inviting you to his shop after hours?” the woman asked, though she clearly already knew.

“Name’s Cheshire Bloom,” he said, and finally the older officer leaned back a little, recognizing the name at least. “And I’m sure I know what you’re thinking, but I went there for a chat, not to start a fight. Elmer lost that shop to the Townshead gang weeks ago and they’ve been trying to cut a deal with us ever since. Well, their business is none of ours, and I was going to tell them that tonight, but they ambushed us! Blew the whole place to hell as soon as my buddy out there put his hand on the door. We never even made it inside. You can probably see the smoke from here.”

The man glanced to the window—the woman kept her attention firmly on Cheshire. “Are you armed?” she asked.

“No.” Cheshire put his hands behind his head. “Search me if you need to.”

The officer unsnapped her gun from its holster but didn’t draw it as her partner patted Cheshire down. “You can cuff me, too, if you want,” Cheshire prattled on as he discovered nothing incriminating. “But if you’re going to have me hauled off to the station, at least wait until after I know my friend’s all right. Please?”

The two officers exchanged looks, clearly out of their league. “Put your hands behind your back,” said the woman. “You’re not getting out of that chair.”

“That’s fair,” said Cheshire, complying. He kept still as the woman pulled out her cuffs and threaded them through the chair back to keep him in place. “We didn’t do anything wrong, but I get it. You’ve got to be careful.”

“That’s enough out of you for now,” the woman said, and then she looked to the other officer. “I’m calling the station.”

“I’ll watch him.”

The officers split up, and Cheshire wilted a little, relieved when the gentleman stayed by the door and didn’t ask him any further questions. Without any reason to perform for a while he took a breath, trying to examine his own story for holes before some detective showed up. Did you leave any of them alive to prove you wrong? he thought, closing his eyes. Jakub shot at least two or three. Most of them were on the ground by the time we made it out…. He grimaced as the scene played out against his eyelids, reminding him all over again of Jakub briefly disappearing in a cloud of fire and smoke. Why didn’t you just kill them all like you did Shane? His fists clenched painfully as he cowered in the office chair. You could have finished it in seconds, and then Jakub wouldn’t have gotten hurt. What if he dies when you could have killed them so easily?

He stewed in agonizing silence for the next twenty minutes, until a whole new round of police showed up. A detective Cheshire didn’t know questioned him about the incident and he told her the same story: they had arrived to talk peace and were caught in a trap; the shop had exploded before they made it through the doors; he had no idea what had become of anyone inside. He even threw in the suggestion that maybe an outside gang entirely had found out about the meeting and plotted to take out two birds with one stone. She didn’t seem to buy it much, but there was a weariness in her face, as if she’d been playing the cat and mouse game too long already and could see how it would end. So he stressed how important Kozlow felt peace was for the Forest Hills area and hoped it was enough.

It was as Cheshire was wrapping up, contemplating some other strategy in the face of her stoicism, that he heard a familiar heavy accent in the hallway beyond saying, “I’m looking for a long-haired idiot in glasses.”

“Burke!” Cheshire called, but when the detective and her officers flinched he quickly ducked his head. “Sorry, can you grab him? He’s…my lawyer.”

Burke appeared in the open doorway, looking irritated and confused. Cheshire sighed with relief at the arrival of an ally, but then his heart sank all over again when he realized Burke wasn’t alone: Hannah was right behind him.

“Your lawyer?” the detective asked with a raised eyebrow, and Cheshire was about to generate some smart response, only to realize it wasn’t necessary. The officers stepped out of the way for their two new guests, and even the detective moved to the side. She and Hannah exchanged a nod.

“Detective Killigan,” Hannah greeted. “Ms. Zak,” she replied.

“Christ, Bloom, what is it this time?” asked Burke as he stopped in front of Cheshire. “Why would you be—”

“You’ll have to talk to Leon about that,” Cheshire cut him off. There were too many ears and he was having a hard enough time lying for himself, let alone trying to explain the circumstances without cluing in the cops. “But this was not us, so tell them they can’t arrest us—we’re the victims here.”

Burke scoffed, but Hannah’s annoyance had already started shifting into concern, and she interrupted before he could go off. “Bloom, where’s Jakub?”

Cheshire cringed, his face giving away so much that Hannah’s lost its color. “He’s with the doctors,” he said. “They haven’t told me anything.”

Hannah stared back at him, unblinking. “How bad is it?”

Cheshire had to look away. “Pretty bad.”

Hannah turned on her heel and left. Cheshire kept his head down, but he could hear her in the hall beyond, questioning a nurse. He didn’t bother trying to make out the words, sick all over again at the thought of Jakub lying on a table somewhere in the building, pale and bleeding. As soon as Hannah sees it, she’ll know what happened, he thought dizzily. No matter what Jakub tells her when he wakes up. If he wakes up.

Burke took hold of his shoulder, gripping tightly to steady him. “Detective Killigan, do you mind if I have a few words with, um, my client?”

The detective regarded them quietly for a long moment and then nodded. “Don’t make my life harder,” she said, and she and her officers left the room, closing the door behind them.

Burke dragged another chair from behind the desk and sat himself down in front of Cheshire. Finally he had grasped the seriousness, and he leaned forward against his knees, lowering his voice. “What happened?”

So Cheshire told him everything, from Leon showing up at Jakub’s door to the half-story he had told the police. Burke listened to it all without commenting, though Cheshire was sure he saw him flinch when he explained just how Jakub had been injured. At the end of it he sighed and scratched his nails across his scalp. “Hell.”

Cheshire managed a twisted smile. “Just about the only good news is Jake won’t have time to hate me when he wakes up,” he said. “Because Hannah will have killed me by then.”

“Bloom, please,” said Burke. “Feel sorry for yerself later, then. Did you leave any of the Townshead boys alive?”

“I don’t know,” Cheshire admitted. “Everything was on fire by the time we left. I didn’t look back.”

“All right.” Burke stood and clapped him on the shoulder again. “Sit tight and button up. Hannah says she has a few friends among the locals, so it shouldn’t take much to have them swallow that story you cooked up for them. I’ll call in some backup to handle the stragglers, if there are any.”

“Thanks, Burke.” Cheshire raised his head, though he was still grimacing. “If you hear how he’s doing, let me know, okay?”

Burke nodded. “Sure,” he said, and he gave Cheshire a pat on the cheek before showing himself out.

Cheshire followed Burke’s advice after that. He kept his mouth shut as cops came in and out, a few of them trying to engage him in conversation. Detective Killigan had him tell his story again, which he did to the letter, and at last she let him out of the handcuffs. But she kept him in the office, hinting in her manner if not her words that she was putting on a good show for her subordinates and little more than that. Thank God for Hannah and her close ties with cops.

“Your friend is still in surgery,” she said as Cheshire rubbed his sore wrists. “But they say his life isn’t in any danger.” Cheshire nodded his gratitude, emotion making it too difficult to answer.

Burke finally came back for him hours later, encouraging him to have a drink of water. “Keep yer mouth shut, okay?” he said, noticeably on edge compared to how he had left. “Try not to make eye contact and it’ll be fine.”

“What?” Cheshire allowed Burke to tug him to his feet. “What’s going on?”

“It’ll be fine,” Burke repeated, and he took hold of Cheshire’s elbow as he led them out of the office. He nodded to Detective Killigan as they passed. “Detective.”

“Mr. Burke,” she replied. “Mr. Bloom—I’ll be sending an officer to your apartment tomorrow with more questions, so make sure you’re at home.”

Cheshire straightened up. “Yes, ma’am.”

“She’s not, really,” Burke whispered once they were out of range. “But she’s not the one to worry about anyway.”

“Then who—” But then Cheshire heard a familiar, deep voice among those conversing along the hall. He knew who.

Detective Alice was speaking to the female officer from earlier, their voices too hushed for Cheshire to make out the words. They both quieted once they noticed him approach, and immediately Cheshire dropped his gaze. Mouth shut, Cheshire told himself fiercely as he let Burke lead the way toward the elevator. No eye contact. But just as they passed he glanced up, catching Alice’s eye. His heart skipped and he wasn’t sure he had enough wits left to sell Alice of all people his story, but the detective didn’t try to stop him. He just watched, cold and accusatory, until Cheshire was in the elevator and heading up.

“Shit,” said Cheshire, sagging into the wall once they were safe. “Thanks for the warning.”

“It gets worse,” said Burke. His gloomy expression hadn’t eased up at all, and it dragged Cheshire’s heart back into his stomach. “Brace yerself, okay?”

Cheshire gulped. After spending the last several hours alternately vibrating and numb, he had no idea how to react. “Is…he awake?”

“No, not yet.” Burke rubbed his hand across his mouth. “But…I’m sure he will be. I mean, he’ll be okay.”

“Yeah….”

They exited on the third floor, and immediately Cheshire spotted yet another unwelcome addition to the whole mess: Barney was standing with Hannah a few rooms down, pacing back and forth in the hall. He looked livid, while Hannah, arms tightly crossed, was glaring at the floor. Cheshire needed Burke’s hand at his back to propel him out of the elevator. “Eggy, did you tell them what I…?”

“Yeah.” Burke urged him on. “I figured I’d save you from having to tell the story, sorry.” It was hard to feel grateful with Barney and Hannah both turning to glare his way, but Cheshire was sure he would thank Burke for it later.

“You fucking asshole,” Barney growled, taking a step forward, but Hannah was on him before he got any further than that. She urged him toward the wall away from the door they were hovering by.

“Not here,” she said sternly. Up close Cheshire could see her eyes were red and swollen. “Not now, Barney.”

“This is his fault! Haven’t I always said this would happen someday?”

Cheshire bristled angrily, but Burke continued to pull him on. With him opening the door to the room there wasn’t any time to rise to a fight. They stepped inside, and his first glimpse of Jakub shattered all other thoughts and concerns.

Jakub was laid out on the hospital bed, just as pale as Cheshire had seen him last, deeply and fitfully unconscious. Gauze bandages covered the left side of his face, his neck, his shoulder, half obscuring the Polish eagle tattooed there. Below that, the bandages were tightly wound, bulging at Jakub’s elbow, and then…nothing. Cheshire stared for a long time, trying to make sense of it.

“They saved as much of the arm as they could,” said Burke, his voice rough and squeamish. “But they said the wrist was burned down to the bone. They had to…amputate.”

Cheshire continued to stare. It still didn’t make any sense. He remembered the knife—he had only wanted to stop the knife. He remembered Jakub disappearing briefly in the smoke, remembered the sight of Jakub’s blistered arm and three missing fingers. But Jakub’s hand was just gone and it didn’t make sense, he didn’t understand—

“This is your fault,” Barney growled, and he shoved Cheshire in the back. Cheshire’s knees were weak enough that the blow sent him stumbling, and he had to catch himself against the foot of the bed. It jostled the mattress very little, but seeing Jakub disturbed even that much in the state he was in put a pulse of heat in his palms.

“All this time Jakub has been covering for you,” Barney ranted as Hannah tried to draw him back. “And you do this to him! Finally showing your true colors!” When Cheshire turned toward him, he took a quick, stumbling step back. “We should have cut you loose a long time ago!”

“We were only there at all to cover for you,” Cheshire shot back, advancing on him. “If you had chased Townshead out like you said you did, this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Bloom,” Hannah said sharply, putting herself between them. “Not now!”

“You’re only able to talk about Queens because of me and Jake,” Cheshire continued over her, hours of frustration and anxiety finally boiling over. “If not for us you’d still be neck deep in Foleys, don’t forget that.” When he stepped forward, Barney stepped back, his heavy scowl unable to hide that he was retreating. “All I’ve been doing the last seven years has made up for you not getting the job done, so tell me one more time Kozlow’s better off without me!”

Still half ducking behind Hannah, Barney snarled, “You blew his fucking arm off, you God damn witch!”

Cheshire saw red, and without thinking he pushed Hannah and Burke aside. Before he even knew what he would do, Barney took a swing at him, only just barely catching him across the chin. It didn’t do any worse than turn his head but that was more than enough; Cheshire retaliated, punching Barney in the mouth hard enough to send him tumbling off his feet, out of the room.

“Try that again,” Cheshire taunted angrily as he pursued.

“If it’s a fight you want—”

“Get the hell away from me!” Barney dragged himself to his feet, holding a hand over his bloodied lip. “You fucking monster!”

He turned to bolt, but he didn’t make it more than two steps before running straight into none other than Detective Alice. Even Barney knew to clap his mouth shut, still as a cornered rabbit as Alice steadied him. Then he took off, shoving curious nurses out of his way as he retreated toward the stairwell.

Cheshire had half a mind to do the same. He was breathing hard and shaky on his feet, Hannah and Burke watching frozen from the doorway. He wasn’t in any condition to be facing down the veteran detective that had been at his back for years. But when Alice headed toward him he put himself squarely in front of the room, overwhelmed with a sudden fear. He won’t stop at me. If he can pin the explosions on me, that implicates Jakub, too. He forced his fists into his pockets so that Alice wouldn’t see them tremble. That can’t happen.

“All right, Bloom,” said Alice, watching him with a heavy, disappointed glare. “You know what happens now.”

When Cheshire took a deep breath, he felt as if his lungs were still full of smoke, but he stared straight back at Alice without budging. “Tell me.”

Alice drew closer, unrelenting. “Bloom, enough. You’re coming to the station with me. All the exits are covered, and all your people are in here. Unless you’re about to start blowing open hospital walls there’s no out this time.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cheshire replied with equal resolve, even if he could feel Hannah and Burke painfully motionless at his back. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“It’s gone too far now,” Alice insisted in frustration. “You’ve gone too far. This magic of yours is too dangerous to be mixed up in this business, you have to see that now.” When Cheshire ground his teeth but didn’t respond, Alice let out a sigh, only to grow even more stern. “That’s one of your own in there, you know. Next time he’ll be dead. Is that what you want?”

Cheshire finally lowered his eyes. A pang of guilt tightened his throat, but stronger than that was the reminder of Jakub lying oblivious behind them. I have to be here when he wakes up, he thought, that conviction blocking out everything else. Whatever it takes.

“How’s Sally?” Cheshire asked.

He could all but feel Alice’s pulse skip in the space between them. “What?”

“She paid me a visit this morning,” Cheshire continued, as if from somewhere outside himself. “Invited me to do an interview with her for her paper.”

“You….”

Alice’s fists shook at his sides as Cheshire carried on. “I’m not sure yet if I’ll go through with it,” he said, reaching into his vest pocket. “She gave me this.”

Cheshire lifted his head as he showed off the business card Sally had passed him earlier, just enough that Alice would be sure to recognize it. Faced with his fear-tinged hatred he nearly lost his nerve, but even so he tucked the card into the front pocket of Alice’s suit and said, “You can give it back to her, though. I know how to reach her.”

Detective Alice quaked beneath his hand, eyes hard and searching. He looked like he might have attacked at any moment in a fit of wrathful paternal instinct, but gradually that fury was worked down, replaced with cold resignation. “All right,” he said, and he swallowed. “All right, Bloom. I’m done.”

He took a step back, and Cheshire was suddenly reminded of the first time they’d met, and the crushing sensation of fatherly disappointment that came with it. “You really are exactly what I thought you were,” he said, and without another glance he turned and walked away.

Cheshire didn’t let his breath out until Alice had disappeared into the elevator, and even then he was half sure he was about to vomit. He rubbed his face and turned, only to find Hannah and Burke gaping at him. “What?”

“Fuckin’ hell, Bloom,” said Burke. He leaned out of the doorway to make sure Alice was fully gone and then looked back to Cheshire, wide-eyed. “Did you just threaten to blow up Sally?”

“Come off it, Burke, you know I wouldn’t.” Cheshire headed back into the room, hating that both his comrades gave him a wide berth. “I just had to get rid of him.”

Hannah eyed him warily as he dragged a chair to Jakub’s bedside. “That was really low.”

“So what was I supposed to do?” Cheshire shot back. “Let him arrest us all? You don’t think he would have stopped at me, do you?”

Hannah chewed her lip, and after a long moment she turned to Burke. “I’m going after Barney,” she said. “Keep an eye on this one.”

“Sure.”

She left, but Cheshire didn’t pay her any mind. He sat himself down next to Jakub and forced himself to look again, more closely this time. There were hints of burns peeking out from under the bandages, ash in his hair. His breathing was steady but he looked terrible, and in pain. At least he hadn’t been awake for all the hospital fiasco.

“Bloom?” Burke edged closer. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah.” At least that lie would always come easily to him. Cheshire gave his face another rub and rallied a smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?”

“Um, sure.” Burke gave a helpless little shrug. “Yer sticking around, then?”

“I’m not leaving this room until he wakes up,” Cheshire said with determination. He fished out his wallet for a handful of bills. “Pay off the nurses if you have to, okay?”

“Okay.” Burke accepted the money but then hesitated, shifting his weight. “You need me to give you a moment?”

Cheshire smiled faintly with relief. “Yeah. Thanks.” When Burke turned to leave, he called him back, adding, “Really, thank you. For all your help tonight.”

“Don’t mention it,” Burke replied, and with a nod he showed himself out.

As soon as he was gone, Cheshire sank into his hands. His strength was spent, his nerves in shambles, stress drawing tears to his eyes. No, not here. What if he wakes up? He took deep breaths and wiped his eyes until they were stinging but dry. I have to apologize the moment he’s awake, he told himself fiercely. That’s all that matters now. And he settled in his chair to wait.

***

Jakub woke from the deepest sleep of his life slowly, sluggishly, as if dragging himself out from under piles of heavy weights. His body was anxious and sore all over, his skin prickling. Even just the thin sheet covering him was sweltering, but when he tried to push it down, he couldn’t get his arms to obey. So he stayed still for a long while, staring blearily up at an unfamiliar ceiling as he tried to remember how he had gotten there.

Leon told us about the raid, he thought, retracing his steps through cloudy memory. We went to the shop. There were too many of them, and—

Heat flared along Jakub’s left side, and suddenly he remembered the blast crashing over him, the pain like red-hot threads that had crackled down his arm. His hand throbbed, but he couldn’t draw it to him, and when he reached for it… it wasn’t there. Too weak to push himself up and look, he felt around, finally having to follow his shoulder down to his elbow, and then the blunt edge of thick bandages where the rest of the limb ought to have been.

Jakub held his breath and kept very still for a full minute as he tried to make sense of it. His nerves seemed to flare in and out, the pain at his elbow intense, only to spread lower into muscles and sinews no longer there. He remembered Cheshire calling his name and felt his index finger twitch, his stomach clenching with nausea. He fought to assemble the full pieces of what had happened but soon he was trembling, a sensation of claustrophobia shrinking the hospital room around him.

Where’s Cheshire? Panicked, Jakub rubbed his eyes with his good hand, trying to force them clear so he could better see his surroundings. He thought he remembered Cheshire pulling him from the building but he suddenly couldn’t be sure. Did he make it out? But he didn’t have to search long: Cheshire was sitting in a chair next to the bed.

Jakub sagged with relief. Cheshire was asleep—singed, bruised, blood on his jacket, but seemingly unhurt. That alone was enough to calm Jakub down, giving him the stability to take a few deep breaths. Even more comforting than Cheshire’s well-being was what his presence there implied. He stayed with me. Jakub smiled, raw with emotion, as he watched Cheshire’s slow breaths. He did pull me out of there—and he stayed.

“Chesh?” His voice came out as a dry croak, and he coughed, licking his lips before trying again. “Cheshire.”

Cheshire stirred, pawing sleepily at his face as he gradually woke up. He looked exhausted, but when he glanced over and saw that Jakub was awake, he vaulted out of his chair. “Jakub!” He stood frozen for a moment, frazzled, before wrangling a hopeful smile into place. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah.” Jakub pushed his hair out of his face, despite the horrific circumstances feeling bizarrely self-conscious to have Cheshire standing over him when he was covered only in a sheet. “Are you okay?”

Cheshire stared at him, dumbstruck. “Me?”

“Yeah. You look okay.” Jakub motioned for him to come closer. “Did we get them all?”

Cheshire grimaced, his expression contorting so tightly that Jakub thought for a moment he might burst into tears. “Yeah,” he said, and he swallowed it down. By the time he was sitting down on the mattress he was even smiling again. “Yeah, the boys made sure of it. We even managed to talk our way out of the cops. Everything…is okay.”

He faltered again, and Jakub wished he was on the other side of the bed so he could reach him more easily. “I’m sorry,” he said, his fist clenched and trembling in the bedsheet. “Jakub—I don’t know if you even remember, but I’m so sorry. It’s my fault—”

“I remember,” Jakub interrupted. However Jakub thought he should have reacted to knowing what had been done to him, all he could think about was stopping Cheshire from looking so pained. “You saved my life.”

Cheshire blinked at him in anxious confusion. “What?

No, I—”

“He was going to stab me in the throat,” Jakub continued to talk over him. “He would have, if you hadn’t stopped him. And you got me out of there.” He held Cheshire’s gaze with his, determined to be heard. “Thank you.”

It didn’t have the effect that he’d hoped. Cheshire sank into his shoulders, more distressed than ever, but then something came over him, and he rallied himself again. Jakub could all but see his gears clicking into place. “I’m sorry I didn’t do better,” he said. “But I’m glad you’re…” He gulped. “I’m glad it wasn’t worse. Are you thirsty?”

Jakub was making such an effort to focus that the change of subject threw him, and he didn’t know how to answer. “You must really be thirsty,” Cheshire carried on. “I don’t know if they’ll want you to eat anything, but I’m sure some water is fine.” He chuckled. “Maybe even a sip of booze?”

No, wait. Jakub reached for him, but Cheshire was already pushing to his feet, and he wasn’t fast enough to catch his hand. Don’t go. “Cheshire—”

“Just stay put and rest up. It’s the middle of the night, anyway.” Cheshire’s usual smile pasted itself back in place as he stepped away from the bed. “Hannah’s going to want to know you’re up, too. Sorry if she yells at you.”

“Chesh,” Jakub tried again, pushing up with his good elbow. “I really meant it.”

“I know! I’m….” Cheshire nodded, though he seemed at a loss. “I’m glad. And I’ll be right back.”

He ducked out, and without any other choice Jakub dropped onto his back again. But he didn’t like the stillness of the room. Without anything else to hold his attention there was just the steady throb coming from his injured arm, which he had no means to soothe. He wanted Cheshire back to distract him from his own pulse, pounding against his temples. He wanted Cheshire’s warm voice telling him it was going to be all right. I don’t care what happened, just come back, he thought, emotion threatening to get the better of him again. He didn’t have the strength to stand let alone defend himself, and even if that was far from necessary the thought of his own weakness frightened him.

The door opened a minute later, but it was Hannah that came back through. She saw Jakub watching her and immediately tears sprang to her already red eyes as she hurried to his bedside. He had never seen her cry before, and he didn’t know what to make of it.

“Jakub.” Hannah moved to his right side so she could take his hand and squeezed it tight. “I’m glad you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“I’m….” Jakub didn’t want to consider ‘feelings’ at all— not his throbbing arm, not his exhaustion, his confusion. He didn’t know how to reassure or justify himself to Hannah, how to explain what had happened. He just wanted to go back to sleep until Cheshire returned. “I’m tired.”

Hannah nodded solemnly. “You should get more rest,” she said. “Everything’s been taken care of. And we’ll take care of you, too.”

“Hannah.” Jakub swallowed hard. “Go easy on Bloom.”

Hannah’s brow furrowed. “How much do you remember?”

“I know what happened,” said Jakub. “It wasn’t his fault. Please don’t tell him it is.”

Hannah looked away as she let go of his hand. The guilty twinge of her lip made it seem that she already had, and Jakub cringed at the thought. “Okay,” she said anyway. “But I don’t know if everyone will see it that way.”

The door opened again, and Cheshire returned with Burke in tow, carrying a pitcher of water and a glass. He hesitated only briefly at the sight of Hannah but then continued inside with smile in place. “It’s not booze,” he said apologetically. “But I did find you something to drink! You were thirsty, right?”

“Y-Yeah.” Jakub looked to Hannah, and she slipped her arm under his shoulders, helping him to sit up. “Thanks.”

Cheshire poured him a glass of water, and the three of them crowded around, chatting awkwardly about the hospital staff being fed up with them, and the story they’d come up with for Jakub to tell the cops. Jakub only half listened as he drank. He could see how uncomfortable everyone was, dancing around the subject at hand, not that he had any intention of broaching it himself. The room was starting to blur, and as he handed the glass back, his hand shook enough that Hannah took notice.

“Lie back down,” she said, helping him. “We’ll let you rest.”

“I’m all right,” said Jakub, but he lied down anyway,

and immediately his eyelids grew heavy. He allowed her to draw the sheet up, but as the three of them turned to leave, he was struck by a sudden fear of being left alone in the room again. “Cheshire.”

Cheshire froze in place. “Yeah?”

“Stay,” said Jakub, too tired to think of any excuse to offer. “Okay?”

Cheshire faltered only a beat before turning back. “Of course,” he said, and despite sideways looks from Hannah and Burke he retook his seat next to the bed. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah, I just….” Jakub took a deep breath, but he couldn’t bring himself to explain any further than that. “Just stay,” he said. “Please.”

“…Sure.” Cheshire made a show of settling in, and though he was still clearly distraught by the circumstances, the fact that he was staying was enough for Jakub. “I’ll be right here.”

“Thanks.”

Hannah and Burke left, turning the lights out on their way. Jakub glanced up toward Cheshire in the dark, struggling with too many things he should say, and even more that he wanted to. He couldn’t untangle any of them enough to speak.

But as long as Cheshire remained, he would have another chance. He told himself that as he closed his eyes, letting sleep reclaim him. They still had more chances.