Jack sank heavily into the nearest chair. He closed his eyes, but kept all other emotion from his face, aware of those around him. He numbly listened as Skittery told him what he had heard.
Spot was gone. The cut had been too deep and he'd bled out.
The story had come in bits and pieces and it still wasn't clear what exactly had happened. The only facts that remained consistent were that Spot was dead and Kid Blink had done it. Brooklyn wanted retribution. Blood, nothing less.
Even though the rumors had started hours ago, he never truly believed Spot would die. It was Spot, after all. Spot had been around long before Jack had picked up a newspaper and Jack always expected him to be there long after he left. Spot saw everything coming; he never got himself into a situation he couldn't get out of. As much as he hated to admit it, Spot had taught him more about life than most. Not about loyalty or friendship, but of the harsher side of the world; of disloyalty and self-gain at the expense of others. No nobility among thieves, Spot had said once. For he had a sense of honor, but it wasn't complicated by decency.
It was just unbelievable. Blink was a lot of things, but a murderer wasn't one of them.
There wasn't a reason given, no clue as to why Blink would have gone to such lengths and let them all suffer the consequences. Then again, Jack didn't often have a clue why Blink did what he did. Reason or not, it still didn't feel right. Blink couldn't have done it on his own, and more importantly, he wouldn't have.
Jack silently mourned both Spot and Blink in the brief moment before he opened his eyes to face the boys crowded around him. There were heated arguments and panicked questions coming from every direction. Some wanted to skip town until everything settled down, others wanted to take the fight to Brooklyn. No one questioned Blink's guilt or innocence because it didn't matter. Brooklyn was coming either way.
"Who took over?" Jack asked loudly, trying to be heard above the other voices.
"Cluggy and Bowler was fightin' it out," Skittery said in between drags on his cigarette, "Last I heard, Bowler came out on top."
Jack swore under his breath. Bowler had been loyal to Spot, Cluggy hadn't. Whereas Cluggy might have been persuaded to back down after a token fight, Bowler wouldn't be satisfied with anything short of the bloodiest revenge. It also meant he wouldn't be bought off with promises of money or territory in payment for Spot's life.
Still, it wouldn't hurt to ask. "What do they want?"
"They say they'll go easy if we give Blink up. He ain't been found, they think we'se hidin' him," Skittery answered.
"Tell 'em we ain't. And if we were, we'd give 'im up," Jack said. The last part wasn't true, but he figured it was worth a shot.
"They ain't exactly in a listenin' mood right now."
"When are they comin'?"
Skittery shrugged. "Tonight, tomorrow, a week, I don't know."
"I heard two days," Mush spoke up. There were murmurs of agreement. "Either way, I'd think about leavin' town, if I was you, Jack. They ain't gonna be happy when they don't find Blink and you'se the next on their list. They're sayin' you put him up to it."
"You think I'm scared of them?" Jack said with an easy smile, "They ain't nothin' without Spot and I ain't afraid of 'em." His confidence, however forced, put the others at ease, though the ones that knew better exchanged wary glances.
"Seein' as how they're so harmless, we even gonna bother fightin' with 'em? Or we gonna just sit here and hope they get lost on the way over?" Mush said.
"We're outnumbered. Even if we stood against them, we ain't no match," Skittery added.
"Why you always gotta say the worst like that?" Mush gave him a dark look.
"I'm bein' honest," Skittery said defensively, "We ain't got a chance."
"Says you," Mush shot back. The room dissolved into loud conflict once more.
Jack tried to block out the noise as he realized the truth in what Skittery had said. On their own, they were outnumbered, plain and simple. Two days wasn't much time to get everyone together and find willing allies. They had to fight, not because it was the right thing or the smartest thing, but because there was no other option. Their pride wouldn't allow them to simply cut and run. Not to mention, Manhattan was the only home most of them had.
"Listen up!" Jack said as he stood. He waited until the room quieted before he continued.
"Everyone knows the odds. You want out, go. The rest of us is gonna fight."
He paused. No one left. At least the odds wouldn't be getting any worse.
"Alright," Jack began, "tell the young kids to stay clear 'til it's over and get word to anyone who ain't here, let 'em know what's goin' on."
"What about numbers? You got any smart ideas on evenin' the odds?" someone called out from the back.
"I'm gettin' to that," Jack said, waiving off the interruption. "We need help, I ain't gonna lie and say we can do it on our own. So, send the word out. Call in whatever favors you got, promise anythin' you have to. Go to anyone who had it out for Spot or Brooklyn and say whatever you gotta say to get them down here. Got it?"
The boys nodded.
"Then why are you still standin' here? Move."
Knowing each moment from then on counted, they moved quickly. There was a hurried exodus out the front door and the boys dispersed down the street in different directions. As Mush walked past him, he caught Jack's eye and nodded wordlessly to the front door. Jack turned to see Race had slipped in and was doing his best not to be noticed as he made his way to the stairs.
Jack had heard here and there from his own boys where Race had been that afternoon. The last they saw of him was when he crossed the bridge with Blink. After that, he seemed to disappear. Whatever trouble Blink had gotten himself into, Jack had no doubt in his mind that Race was in it just as deep. Strangely, though, the rumors plainly stated that Blink had acted alone and not one mentioned Race.
"Race," Jack called sharply. He didn't know whether to be distrustful or angry, so he settled on both.
Pausing at the bottom step, Race looked at his feet briefly before he lifted his eyes to face Jack. "What?"
"Get over here," Jack ordered him, "Now."
After a slight hesitation, Race complied. Jack regarded him suspiciously and made no attempt to hide it. If Race noticed, he didn't let on. He looked at Jack evenly, almost daring him to voice his doubts.
"Where you been?" Jack asked.
"Around," Race responded with deliberate vagueness.
"Around?" Jack repeated, disbelievingly. "I got five different people tellin' me they saw you goin' into Brooklyn with Blink this mornin'. Seein' as how Blink killed Spot in Brooklyn, I think I got a good guess what you been doin' 'around'."
Race didn't answer.
"Where's Blink?"
"How should I know?" he said defensively.
That was the first clue he knew more than he was letting on. If he hadn't been involved and Blink was pinned for something that serious, he would have been concerned at the very least.
"You were there, weren't you?" Jack said, the accusation clear. He wasn't going to give Race the courtesy of tact. In his opinion, not punching Race the moment he walked in was more polite than he deserved.
"Don't ask me that, Jack," Race warned him before turning back toward the stairs.
Jack grabbed hold of his arm before he could go far. He wasn't getting off that easy. "I figure you got two ways outta this. You come clean and tell me what you know or you walk out that door and don't bother comin' back."
"It ain't that simple," Race said, twisting his arm out of Jack's grip.
"Either you had something to do with it or you didn't. Sounds simple to me."
"Fine. I was there but I didn't see it happen, alright?"
"Not good enough."
"I didn't see it," Race maintained. "Look, there was a lot goin' on. Me and Blink was talkin' with Spot, Cluggy came in shootin' his mouth off about somethin'. We got caught in the middle. All I know is, when the dust cleared Cluggy said Blink done it. I didn't stick around to argue, I pulled him outta there first chance I got. We ran for it."
Race's voice faltered for only an instant, but Jack caught it. Something had him rattled. As he spoke, he wouldn't even look him in the eye. It was so unlike him that Jack didn't know what to think.
"If Spot's dead, Blink didn't do it, that's for sure. He didn't have no blood on him," Race said adamantly.
"How'd you manage to get out in one piece?" Jack asked.
"Luck, I guess. We split up. I hid out 'til it was clear and came back first chance I got."
"And Blink?"
"I-I don't know," Race said with uncharacteristic uncertainty, "If he ain't here, I don't know where he is. He said he'd be back."
The explanation on the whole was plausible, but there were small details that didn't add up. For one, he couldn't imagine Race abandoning Blink in the middle of Brooklyn to find his own way out. Or why the rumors never mentioned Race when he was standing right next to Blink, especially when Blink was relatively unknown to Brooklyn and Race was familiar with most of them. He knew Blink wasn't capable of murder and Race wasn't stupid enough to involve himself with something that big.
Jack considered Race a moment, not believing him completely, yet at the same time not willing to believe he would lie about something so important. But, he couldn't start doubting the people he trusted most, not now of all times.
"We'll look for him," Jack said. "Anyone we can spare."
Race nodded, visibly relieved. "I'll head back out, start lookin' before it gets too late."
"I'll go with you."
"No," Race said as he moved to the door, "From what I been hearin', they're gunnin' for you out there and that kind of attention I can do without."
Jack had forgotten about that. In Brooklyn's mind, he was the mastermind behind the whole mess. He didn't know which was more ridiculous: him wanting to kill Spot or the idea he would send his friend out to do it.
He watched silently as Race disappeared alone into the night.
The waiting began.
As the night hours turned into morning, there was little in the way of good news. As the afternoon came and went, the news turned from bad to worse. No one was willing to help. The excuses were the same. They didn't think Manhattan had a chance, they couldn't spare anyone, they thought Manhattan had made their own bed and should deal with the consequences.
Blink hadn't been seen, alive or dead. Though he didn't tell anyone, Mush had been out looking for him since dawn.
As the night approached, the last of the boys returned and any remaining hope faded. They were on their own, forgotten by those they had helped in the past.
When Skittery began to reiterate the odds against them for the fifth time, Jack pushed his chair back and stood. He didn't want to hear any more about the hopelessness of it. He couldn't keep pretending everything would be all right, because it wouldn't be.
The discussion picked up again the moment he left. By the time he was out the door and sitting on the front steps, Race had started to lay out the best options they had for defending themselves.
Jack didn't know any more about tactics than the rest of them. When it came down to it, they would probably just end up punching the nearest unfamiliar face. But it was something to talk about and pass the tense hours. It would only be a matter of time before they would get the first warning that Brooklyn had crossed over the bridge.
There was little telling what would actually happen. Jack had only witnessed a few scraps as big as this one was promising to be. The bulls might break it up in the first ten minutes, or just sit back and take bets on who would win. Brooklyn might show up with everyone they had, or just those that supported Bowler. Queens could come to their senses and remember all the favors Manhattan had done for them in the past, or they could be the sissies he had always taken them for. It was a toss up.
Everything or nothing could go their way.
Jack watched absently as the lamplighter began his slow movement down the street. The sky was already turning dark.
He picked through the cigarette stubs that littered the stairs and found one that was only half-burnt. He re-lit it and settled back, taking in the surroundings as best he could. It would probably be his last night alive. If he did survive, there would be someone else who wouldn't.
This wasn't the way he imagined it. When he did get around to dying, he always thought it would be in a gunfight with an outlaw or something, not in the street. He had survived so long already he figured it was a sign that he'd eventually make it out.
The talking inside had quit. Chairs were being moved and coins were clattering on the tabletop. Cards. High-stakes by the sound of it. Jack leaned out of the way as a couple of boys came down the stairs and walked toward the pub on the corner. It could very well be their last night too and they all knew it. It would be spent in abandon. One last night together before everything changed.
"Jack Kelly?" a voice asked.
Jack barely turned his head, just enough to make sure it wasn't a knife-wielding Brooklyn boy trying to make a name for himself. It wasn't. It was just some kid.
"What's it to you?" Jack said dully, flicking the ash from his cigarette.
"Heard you could use some help," the boy said.
Jack's expression lightened. Finally, some good news.
"Who sent you?" he asked. Maybe Queens wasn't a bunch of sissies after all.
"Nobody. Guess you could say I came on my own."
Jack felt his newfound hope fade as quickly as it had come. They were still alone.
He was tempted to tell the boy to go home. One extra body wasn't going to make much difference, especially this kid. He looked a bit older than most, like he might have had some experience, but that was the only thing he had going for him. He wasn't a fighter, that much was clear. He didn't have any scars or hold himself the right way. Jack would have been surprised if he could have knocked out an old lady.
Still, it was pretty gutsy for him to put himself on the line for strangers.
"You got a name?" Jack asked as he motioned for him to sit. The boy took the invitation and sat a careful distance away.
"I got a few."
"Gimme the one you like best," Jack said, offering him the cigarette. "The one you want read over your body."
"Not that I plan on dyin' any time soon," the boy said as he took the cigarette with a nod of thanks, "but, I'd have to say Box."
"Is that right?" Jack said, humoring him, "Just Box?" It was a common enough name. Half the kids that rode the rails were called 'Box' or 'Boxcar'. He probably liked using the name because of the infamy that went with it.
"Most call me Box," he said with a shrug, glancing sideways at Jack, "Some call me Greene. I answer to both."
Jack choked out a laugh.
"Somethin' funny?"
"That your idea of a joke?" Jack said in disbelief, "You goin' around tellin' people you'se Greene?"
"No joke, I swear," the boy laughed good-naturedly, "Look, I'll prove it to you." He rolled down one of the sleeves of his shirt to reveal a faded dark stain.
"See that?" he said, holding his arm out, "That's your boy Kid's blood."
The smile fell from Jack's face.
"You're a liar," he said darkly, too repulsed to consider the possibility. He stood up from the stairs, giving the boy a disgusted look as he turned to go inside.
"I had it on my hands too, but it kinda faded," the boy continued conversationally.
Jack stopped short of the door. He had a powerful urge to crack the wise-ass kid's skull wide open, Greene or not.
"Mush!" Jack called back into the house, keeping his narrowed eyes trained on the boy.
"Yeah?" he heard Mush respond from somewhere inside. A chair scraped against the floor, followed by reluctant footsteps. Mush appeared briefly at the door. "Look, can it wait? I was just about to win-"
Mush froze. A momentary confusion crossed over him as he looked between Jack and the boy. His expression quickly turned hard, into one of a quiet hate.
Jack didn't even need to ask.
So it was Greene. The bastard wasn't a liar, though it didn't make him any less a bastard. Jack instinctively moved away, putting more distance between them and almost backing into Mush, which was probably a good thing considering Mush looked like he might take a swing at the first opportunity.
"It's okay, Jack, I don't bite," Greene said as he unhurriedly moved to stand. "Can I call you Jack?"
"You got nerve," Jack responded bitterly. He wasn't impressed with the kid before and he was less impressed now that he knew who he was.
"That's what they say," Greene replied with a self-satisfied smile as he dusted himself off.
"What's he doin' here? You outta your mind?" Mush said intensely to Jack. It was obvious he regarded Greene's presence as much more of an issue than Jack did. He had seen up close what Greene was a capable of and the image of Blink in the alley was indelibly etched into his memory.
Greene nodded to Mush in recognition. "Nice to see you again," Greene said amiably. "No hard feelings, I hope." The overt friendliness in his voice seemed nothing more than a calculated taunt.
"Just say the word, Jack." Mush clenched his fist.
Jack was tempted to. He glanced briefly to the street, not seeing anyone that looked like they would come to Greene's aid.
"Don't get stupid. I'm here for a chat, nothin' else," Greene said, amused more than anything else at Mush's threat.
"What do you want?" Jack asked with a healthy amount of suspicion.
"To help, plain and simple."
"Oh yeah? And why would you want to do that?"
"You got Conlon outta my way. You did me a favor and saved me some time. I figure I owe you for that. Seein' as how I don't like owin' people, I'm willing to help you out so we're square."
"We didn't have nothin' to do with it," Jack said quickly.
"Sure you didn't." Greene didn't seem all that concerned one way or the other.
Jack didn't buy it. "What are you getting' out of it, 'sides a clear conscience?"
"Nothin' you want," Greene assured him. "Brooklyn," he conceded after a moment, giving Jack a brief, knowing grin.
"They won't follow you. They hate you. Spot made sure of that," Jack said, hoping he would go and take his offer with him. Then Jack wouldn't be tempted to take him up on it.
"I wouldn't worry about it. I got more friends in Brooklyn than Conlon ever did," Greene said easily.
That wasn't a comforting thought, though a real possibility considering Spot had few friends to begin with.
Jack wasn't stupid though, he knew Greene had more than Brooklyn in mind. After all, Brooklyn was just a hop, skip, and a bridge away from Manhattan and he didn't believe Greene would stay content on his side for very long. However, without Greene's help, they wouldn't survive long enough to find out.
Jack couldn't believe he was even entertaining the thought, but Greene represented their last chance. His stomach turned at the idea of joining with someone like that.
"How many you got willin' to fight?" Jack asked despite himself.
"Twice what you got, easy."
"I'll think it over."
"That's all I'm askin', Jack," Greene said. A small smile played at the corner of his mouth, as if he already knew what Jack was only starting to realize. There was no other way.
"You ain't thinkin' nothin' over," Mush said fiercely. "We ain't joinin' with him."
"We gotta look out for us, Mush," Jack said as he pushed past him. He motioned for everyone to come over as he reached the center of the room where most were still either watching or playing cards. Race briefly looked up from his hand.
"Everybody shut up," Jack called out loudly.
"Jack, don't-" Mush warned him. Jack ignored it.
"Listen up, I got somethin' to say," Jack said as he picked up the deck of cards, abruptly stopping the game. There were protests and a few boys tossed in their hands with frustration.
"Are you drunk again?" Skittery eyed him.
"Nah, just stupid," Mush said under his breath.
"Everyone knows we're on our own here," Jack began, "But there's someone willin' to help us. He's got more numbers than us and he ain't afraid of goin' against Brooklyn. Thing is, most of us don't like him for real good reasons. He's been causin' trouble around here for a while and as far as I can tell, his word ain't worth shit. But helpin' us helps him get what he wants, so I don't think he'll cross us until after."
"Go on, Jack. Tell 'em who you wanna deal with, who you think's gonna watch our backs," Mush said, crossing his arms.
He took in a slow breath. "Box Greene."
"Christ," Skittery breathed.
"Is that some kinda joke? What's the matter with you?" Dutchy said, giving Jack a disapproving look.
"You know what you're gettin' into?" Race asked quietly, not looking up from his cards.
Jack hesitated. He knew what he was asking, it was just as distasteful to him. He wished there was another way, but survival was the only thing on his mind now. He didn't care about the how, he just wanted to get as many boys through tomorrow alive as he could.
"Seein' as how we don't gotta chance without him, I say we take our chances with him," Jack said finally.
The room was silent. Some looked at Jack like he was out of his mind, others had a bit of hope in their eyes.
"I say we don't," Mush said, breaking the silence.
Jack kept his patience as best he could. "This ain't a vote, Mush."
"Maybe it should be," Mush returned evenly. There were murmurs of consent.
"Are you and me gonna have a problem here?" Jack couldn't hide his disbelief. Mush had never gone up against him like that before.
"Yeah, I think we are." Mush met Jack's eyes unwaveringly and held his ground with all the stubbornness that Jack would have expected from Blink. He knew why Mush didn't want anything to do with Greene and he didn't blame him. But he had to look beyond, see what Mush couldn't.
Race glanced up at Jack. "Who died and made you king? We vote."
Jack set his jaw, barely nodding his consent before he looked away. He could only hoped enough of them cared as much about self-preservation as he did.
"Alright," he heard Race say, "hands up if you wanna chance it on our own."
Jack couldn't help but look. There were quite a few hands besides Mush. Clearly, the ultimate benefit was not enough to sway them.
"Hands up if you think we need the numbers," Race said. Jack lifted his hand along with the majority of boys in the room. He didn't need to count to know more had sided with him.
"Sorry, Mush," Race said.
"We're joinin' with Greene. This is how it's gonna be," Jack pronounced. Not everyone was happy, but no one disputed him. He was silently thankful for it.
"It'll work, Mush," Jack said reassuringly, "I know it will." He rested a hand on Mush's shoulder. Mush shrugged it off.
"Don't kid yourself," Mush said, looking him squarely in the eye, "This is the worst mistake you ever made."
He went alone to see Greene, to give him the decision that signified both their potential salvation and downfall. It was accepted in one brief moment, with one brief handshake and one smile that was not returned.
Jack was gone for less than a half-hour, but by the time he returned, the lodging house was nearly empty. It was still early in the evening and there was plenty of time to get drunk. The recent turn of events was more than enough of an incentive to drive even the most well meaning to the pubs.
Greene had offered to buy him a drink. He had refused. Just because they shook hands didn't mean Jack liked him any better. He still considered Greene an enemy. After all, he had soaked Blink senseless and didn't think twice about it. Not to mention he had a habit of trying to kill Spot. But however much he disliked Greene, he knew keeping his fist in check significantly increased his chances of surviving through the next night.
Jack sat on the nearest chair and kicked off his shoes. He stretched out his toes and rested his head on the back of the chair. Just as his eyes drifted closed, he heard footsteps descend the stairs halfway before stopping.
"Jack, we gotta talk." Race's voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"If it ain't important, I ain't interested," he answered.
"It's important."
"Well?" Jack prompted him as he settled into a more comfortable position.
"Upstairs," Race said uneasily.
"Nobody's here," Jack said, waving a tired hand at the empty room. The only reply he got was the sound of the creaking floorboards as Race climbed back up the stairs.
He sat for a moment, not entirely sure he wanted to know what Race was up to. By the tone of Race's voice, he had the feeling the news was not good and the vague sense it wouldn't make his life any easier.
He dragged himself to his feet and started upstairs, careful not to trip over anything in the dark.
"Race?" he called out as he reached the top step. Squinting through the dim light, he saw the silhouette of someone sitting astride the far windowsill with one leg out on the fire escape. If Race was thinking about dragging him up to the roof, he had another thing coming.
Just as he moved toward the window, he heard Race's voice coming from an entirely different direction.
"Over here," Race said as he replaced the glass top on a lamp, "We don't got much time." A dull flicker of light illuminated his face faintly as he carried the lamp across the room toward the open window and the figure.
Jack followed him uncertainly. He immediately thought of Blink, daring himself to hope he had made it back alive.
As they neared the window, it became clear Blink was not the one that had found his way back to the lodging house. He recognized who the person was a moment before the light revealed it. Apparently, death was treating him well.
"Looks like you got a world of trouble on your hands, Jacky-boy," Spot said.
"B-But-I-you?" Jack started, the shock of seeing Spot not only alive but sitting directly in front of him destroyed any attempt to communicate a clear thought.
"Don't think about it too hard, you'll hurt yourself," Spot said, clearly amused by the whole situation.
"I thought you was dead," Jack managed finally.
"Don't tell me you was broken up about it," Spot said with faint sarcasm, dismissing the heaviness in Jack's voice. "You really think after all these years I'd go so easy?"
"If you ain't dead, where's Blink?" Jack asked immediately.
"Back in Brooklyn, layin' low."
Jack took it in. It was a lot to swallow. Not only was Spot alive and well, but apparently, Blink was just fine and dandy too. Everything Jack had done, every worry, every hour of lost sleep, had been over a lie. He was torn by an overwhelming sense of relief and the subtle realization that Spot had screwed him over once again. Though, this time he had help.
Jack glared at Race with suspicion and steadily rising anger. "I bet you were in on it the whole time."
"In on it? Hell, it was his idea," Spot said before Race could answer. "He figured the whole thing start to finish. Tell him."
"Yeah, tell me, Race," Jack said bitingly. "See if you can go for two words without lyin'."
"I'm sorry, Jack. I mean that," Race said.
"I bet you do." Jack didn't want an apology. An apology wouldn't help anyone, it wouldn't stop people from being hurt. "You got any idea what you've done? Brooklyn's on it's way 'cause they think we killed him."
"No, they're comin' 'cause I told 'em to," Spot corrected him smugly.
Jack whirled around to face Spot, his anger brimming to the surface. "And why the hell would you do that?"
"Take it easy."
"I don't got time to take it easy! I got Box Greene comin' here-"
"I know," Spot said calmly.
"You know?" Jack accused him, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "You planned this, didn't you? Christ. You got him to come down here, you set this whole thing up- "
"Look, stop yellin' and I'll tell you," Spot said.
"How 'bout you tell me or I knock your teeth out?"
"Fair enough." Spot chuckled as he propped his leg up on the window frame and settled back. "Higgins, tell 'im how it went."
"Greene was after Blink, we all knew that," Race began slowly, as if he knew what he was going to say was not going to be received well. "Turns out, Blink made a deal with Greene sayin' he'd kill Conlon. He never planned on doin' it, but he got himself caught in a tight spot. So I figured a way to give Greene what he wanted without anyone getting' hurt.
"I knew the only reason he wanted Blink to do it was because he wanted Manhattan to take the blame," Race continued. "Knowing that, it was just a matter of playin' into his hands, or lettin' him think we were. He'd think Conlon was dead and Blink did it, so would everyone else. Brooklyn would turn on us, he'd think we was all easy pickings."
"Did you even think about how many ways it could have gone wrong? How many of us you put on the line?" Jack asked. He didn't question why Race did it, he knew it was for Blink. But, he didn't like how it was done and the fact Race kept everyone in the dark.
"No, not really," Race replied sarcastically. "I thought I'd see how many I could take down at once. You know, set a record or somethin'."
"You're a fuckin' wise-ass, you know that?" Jack retorted.
"As much as I wanna see you two deck each other, time ain't exactly on our side here," Spot said, ending the imminent argument before it could start. "Save your little heart-to-heart for later."
"You got anything to add to this mess? Or are you just here for the view?" Jack said with little patience.
For once, Spot seemed more than willing to talk. "Your boys came to me with their idea. Me, bein' smart, realized it would work, if done right. So I took 'em up on it. They needed me to play dead, so I played dead. No one knew except a few of mine who could keep it quiet. Bowler knew, but he don't care one way or the other if I'm gone, so he played it out well. As far as most of my boys is concerned, I'm dead and they think Manhattan did it. So what Box has been seein' the past few days convinced him it's true.
"Your boys made a run for it, made it look good to anyone watchin'. While Bowler got everyone riled up, I slipped out the back and no one's the wiser. I ain't been in Brooklyn since it happened," Spot said. "Stories got a life of their own, don't they?"
Jack wasn't amused.
"We joined with him. You understand that? I shook hands with him, Spot," Jack said, trying to get him to realize it wasn't a game they were playing. "You think I would have done somethin' like that unless I had to?"
"No," Spot agreed, "and I don't hold it against you. It was the only way."
"The only way?" Jack repeated. The realization hit him suddenly and everything fell into place. "You got to all of them first. You got them to stay out of it. You made it so we'd be on our own."
"It had to be that way."
"No, it didn't. You could have told me, I would have played along."
Spot shook his head. "No, he's got a head for set-ups. He would've known somethin' was wrong. I couldn't risk it. You had to believe it so he would believe you."
Jack briefly looked sideways at Race. "Maybe you should've talked with him then. You bein' the better liar between us."
"Look, I said I was sorry and I ain't gonna say it twice," Race said coolly, not playing into Jack's anger. Jack had every right to be mad and he was prepared to take it. "If I had to do it again, I'd play it the same way."
"Yeah, well I wouldn't. I wouldn't believe a word outta your mouth," Jack said bitterly. He nodded toward Spot curtly. "Hell, I trust him more than I trust you right now."
"I'm honored," Spot said dryly.
Jack's remark stung, but Race didn't let it show. "If you got a problem with me, it's gotta wait. We're talkin' business."
Spot regarded them with faint annoyance.
"You got anythin' to eat around here?" Spot asked, changing the subject abruptly, "I ain't ate since yesterday."
"No," Jack practically snapped at him. Only Spot would think about food at a time like this.
"Go get somethin' for me," he said to Race.
"This ain't Brooklyn, I don't gotta do nothin' you say-" Race started.
"Do it," Jack said with a sharp glance, daring him to refuse.
It didn't takehim long to understand what Spot was really after. Race leaving would eliminate the conflict. He probably wasn't driven by any higher motive to make peace, he just wanted things to run smooth.
"And a smoke," Spot added. Race gave him a withering look, which he returned with a smug smile.
Race didn't look the least bit happy about being told to leave, and made it abundantly clear as he stalked out of the room. Jack felt himself breath easier oncehe had gone. He never liked arguing with Race.
"What are you getting' out of this, anyhow?" Jack asked as he sat wearily on the nearest bunk. He had no doubts Spot was getting more than a laugh for his efforts.
"He's comin' here expectin' a fight. When he gets here, you and me will turn on him. He's done before he knows what's what. Problem solved. That's' the only reason I'm in on this. In exchange for me playin' along and protectin' your Kid, I get my shot at Greene."
"How'd you know he'd join up with us?"
"It took a bit of work," Spot said, clearly proud of himself. "I got the word out that you was desperate and didn't have a chance, which wasn't too far from the truth. I got him thinkin' Brooklyn could cream you with no trouble. That wouldn't benefit him none. He needed you to put up enough of a fight to weaken Brooklyn so he could take it. So he had no choice but to offer to help you, he couldn't let you screw up his big chance. That's the beauty of it, Jacky. He's walkin' right into it and he don't even know it.
"It's a good plan," Spot remarked, "Your boy is real smart, but don't tell 'im I said so."
"I won't," Jack said more harshly than he intended. Race was smart. He acted very carefully and not out of emotion. Race would have done whatever would make the odds better. He didn't have to lie, but he did. It wasn't personal though, Jack realized, it was only to increase his chance of success.
"Higgins wanted to tell you, but I didn't let 'im," Spot began, almost as an afterthought. "Truth was, he couldn't have told you much. He didn't know what I was doin' to get Greene down here. All he wanted was to help his pal out. He gave me my chance, but he didn't want to know how I was going to use it."
"I wouldn't be too sure," Jack said. Race wanted Greene gone as much as Spot did. He took it personally what Greene did to Blink. Getting Spot involved was like handing someone a loaded gun, he knew what would happen.
What he said to Race wasn't true. He still trusted him, even though he had put him in a terrible position. Hell, if it all worked out, Race would have taken care of a big problem for all of them. People like Greene didn't just go away.
On the other hand, he didn't know if he could trust Spot at all, though at times he had thought he might be able to. He had no misconception that Spot was only ever acting in his own best interest.
"Can I ask you somethin'?" Jack said. There was no time like the present and he wanted to put the subject to rest in his own mind.
"Shoot."
"Seein' as how I'm puttin' myself out on the line to help you, I figure I got a right to know if you'll do the same for me."
"Was there a question in there somewhere?" Spot asked, taking enjoyment in being difficult.
"I wanna know if I can count on you," Jack said.
"Sure," Spot said lightly.
Jack was taken slightly off-guard by the answer. "So, you're sayin' we can trust each other?"
Spot stifled a laugh. "You bein' serious?"
That wasn't exactly the answer he wanted, but he had expected as much.
"I thought you had that figured by now," Spot said as it became clear Jack wasn't joking. He hesitated, as if trying to come up with a diplomatic way to answer the question. "I don't trust nobody," he said finally. "Don't take it personal."
"You're full of it."
"Oh yeah?" Spot said, "What do you know about it?"
"You're sittin' here right now. You didn't do it on your own. You had to trust people enough to help you," Jack said plainly. "Look, you had to trust your boys enough to know they wouldn't let slip that you wasn't dead. You had to trust Race and Kid enough to go along with their idea in the first place."
"You think too much," Spot said, his patience visibly waning. "What do it matter anyway?"
" 'Cause I wanna know if this goes bad, you'll cover my back and look out for someone besides yourself."
Spot considered him for a moment. "If I give you my word, I'll keep it. If you help me, I'll help you. If you cross me, you'll regret it. You can trust that."
Jack wasn't interested in vague promises. He wanted to know he could trust the person making the promise.
"You know that ain't what I'm askin'," Jack said, though he had the suspicion Spot knew exactly what he was getting at, "Besides, how I remember it, you gave me your word you wouldn't touch Blink. Took you less than an hour to break it."
"I said I wouldn't hurt him. I didn't. I just wanted to scare 'im. Good thing I did or your boy wouldn't be nothin' but a stain on the street by now. Besides, how I remember it, you was the one ready to stick 'im.
"You didn't answer me," Jack said, ignoring the last remark.
"No, I didn't," Spot agreed, but didn't say anything further. He leaned back against the window frame and absently searched for a cigarette in his pocket.
Jack exhaled with frustration. Well, at least he tried. In truth, he got more of a response than he anticipated.
To a certain degree, he believed he had figured Spot out. That's why he allowed himself to depend on Spot, however little. Not to mention, Spot hadn't crossed them openly or caused problems, though he had ample opportunity to do both. That counted for something with Jack.
"Let me tell you a little somethin', Jacky," Spot began suddenly as he struck a match and lit his cigarette. "Back a few years, when I was a kid, I had this pal I used to run with. We started out in newspapers, we was pretty good at it too. We got some respect, worked out way up, beat out the competition, you know what it's like. We worked together 'cause we was too young to go it on our own."
"Sooner or later, we realized we didn't need each other no more, but we kept workin' together. We was friends and all that. He had brains, could work any deal. I took care of the dirty stuff. I guess it worked out, I got a reputation for bein' tough. So one day, word came around that he wanted it all for himself and me outta the way. So I beat him to it. I had him set up to be killed. Turns out he was loyal, never said nothin' against me," Spot said with little emotion.
"So, you made a mistake," Jack started.
"I knew that before I had it done," Spot said. There wasn't a hint of regret in his eyes and he wanted Jack to know it.
"Why are you tellin' me this?"
"So you know how I treat people who trust me," Spot said bluntly. "I like you, Jack, you're a good kid and I can respect that. But, I like roast beef sandwiches too. Likin' someone, bein' friends with 'im, it don't mean nothin' in the end. You think 'cause we talk and share a smoke that we'se pals and we'll stick our necks out for each other. I don't stick my neck out for nobody. The sooner you get that, the better off you'll be. I don't trust Bowler or Higgins or any of 'em, I trust what they want. If they ain't workin' in their best interest, I know they ain't on the up and up."
"So you think I'd turn on you first chance I got?"
"No."
"Would you turn on me?"
"Yes," Spot said without hesitation.
Jack looked at him closely, almost waiting for him to crack a smile and say he was joking. He didn't.
"You wouldn't," Jack insisted, more to convince himself. He couldn't believe he had been so wrong about someone.
"You don't know for sure, do you?" Spot said. "You think you got me figured, Jacky, but you don't know the first thing about me. You only seen what I showed you and I ain't showed you a whole lot."
Jack nodded briefly as he looked down at his hands. He asked, so he couldn't blame Spot for answering. Still, it was one hell of an answer considering Spot was expecting his help.
Spot seemed to sense his unease. "You want me to say I trust you? Fine. It'd be a lie, but fine, let's say I do. It'd only be because I been watchin' you for a long time and know you inside and out. You don't cross your pals, you never killed no one and don't like hurtin' people. You don't cheat unless you been cheated and you help people out when you ain't getting nothin' out of it.
"Now, give me one good reason why you should trust me," Spot said, looking at Jack closely.
Jack remained silent. It was true he knew very little about Spot. He lied as much as he told the truth, no one knew quite what he was capable of. To a point, his word could be trusted, but it was nothing Jack was willing to stake his life on.
"No? Didn't think so," Spot said flatly. "I'm givin' you my word I ain't gonna wrong you or Manhattan and that's all you're gonna get. I'm done talkin' about this. Where's Higgins? I'm starvin'."
Spot hadn't ever been this honest with him before. Of course, it was more than likely that Spot wasn't being honest with him at all. No matter how cold Spot tried to make himself out to be, he did have a vague sense of honor and Jack didn't think he would outright betray them. However, it wasn't in his best interest at the present. Jack could only imagine what would happen when it was.
"Was any of it true, what you said about your friend?" Jack asked after a moment.
A small smile crept into Spot's lips. "Nah, but it made a good story."
"Your friend wasn't named Greene, was he?"
"Couldn't say he was."
"He's full of shit. You know that, right?" Race said abruptly, stepping out from the doorway. Jack didn't know how long he had been listening.
Spot looked at him sourly as he crossed the room. Race tossed him a small bundle wrapped in paper. He barely caught it before it collided with his head. Race didn't bother to apologize and Spot didn't thank him.
"Don't believe nothin' he says," Race said.
"Watch yourself," Spot advised him, a light threat in his voice. He looked at the food with doubt as he peeled the greasy brown paper from the sandwich. The smell wasn't exactly pleasant. "Where'd you dig this up?"
"Garbage out back," Race said. "I figured it was good enough for you."
"Race!" Jack snapped. It wasn't exactly the best time to go toe-to-toe with Spot.
"Nah, don't worry about it," Spot said dismissively as he took a bite of the sandwich. "He's full of hot air. Let 'im talk, it's good for a laugh. Besides, he knows when to quit. Don't you, Higgins?" Spot gave Race a long stare before he took another bite. Race set his jaw, but didn't say anything else.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack asked, not missing the silent exchange. Spot wasn't generally the forgiving type and Race usually didn't shut up until he was good and ready.
"Nothin'," Race said sharply, "Forget it." It was a not-so-subtle suggestion aimed directly at Spot, but it only seemed to encourage him.
Spot finished the bite he was on and gestured to Race. "See that scar near his ear? Go on, show him."
Race didn't make any effort to turn his head and show Jack, but Spot continued anyway, "I busted his head open once. It was a good shot, bled for days. He couldn't hear too good after that."
"I hear fine," Race replied, the color rising slightly in his face. "Maybe if you didn't punch like a girl, I'da gone deaf and I wouldn't have to listen to you no more."
Much to Jack's surprise, Spot just laughed.
"When was this?" Jack said. He had never seen Race and Spot share an actual conversation, let alone an argument. At best, they mutually ignored each other. At worst, they exchanged cheap shots and kept walking. No one had ever mentioned any history between them, though Race did spend a good deal of time in Brooklyn, so it wasn't impossible.
"Before," Spot answered, looking to Race. "Ain't that right?"
Race grudgingly nodded once in agreement.
'Before' meant anything that was history, a done deal. It could have been five months or five years ago. Whenever it happened, Spot was more likely indicating that it was over and done with and wasn't Jack's business. Race didn't argue the point or seem willing to discuss it further, so Jack let it go.
"He got off easy," Spot said. Race snorted under his breath at that; Spot ignored it. "You know Cluggy, right? You ever wonder how he got so ugly?"
Jack was sure he didn't want to hear the answer. Cluggy's one defining feature, beside his utter lack of likeability, was a severe scar that tore down through both his lips and twisted his mouth into a frown. It seemed almost deliberately made and now that Jack pictured it, it did vaguely resemble an 's'. Though, for some reason, he couldn't picture Spot doing something like that.
"One night, he was crackin' wise and laughin' about somethin' I said. So I took his knife and gave him a little reminder not to laugh at me. He don't grin so much any more."
Jack's mouth fell open slightly. "You did that? You cut on his face like that?"
Race rolled his eyes. Spot's smile widened.
"No," Spot admitted. "But I like sayin' so."
"See? He's full of it," Race said.
Spot glanced at Race warningly. "Say, didn't I bust your arm that same night? Yeah, I remember it. You tried to cheat me."
"I didn't try. I did. That was just the first time you caught on."
Jack remembered it. Race came back one night with busted arm. He said it happened while trying to hop on to a streetcar. He slipped and lost his grip.
"You said you hurt your arm fallin' off-" Jack started, but Race cut him off.
"I know what I said," Race said quickly, giving Jack a look for bringing it up. He rarely got caught in a lie and seemed all the more angry that Spot was the one to do it.
"Well, well, well," Spot said with clear satisfaction, "looks like I ain't the only one full of shit."
"Fuck you," Race retorted.
"Can it wait 'til I'm done eatin'?" Spot answered innocently.
A/N: Alright, another long update for the wicked long wait. Thanks for your patience! If everything goes according to plan there will be one more chapter and possibly an epilogue and then we're done. I'll be going back and changing a few things, but nothing big.
And I have to give tremendous props to B for helping me out on this and being an awesome beta.
Since shoutouts are technically illegal now (?) I'll just give a quick thanks to B, Braids, mssd3987, TSB, Oxymoronic Alliteration, christianrockstar, luckyrocks73, Erikthephantom, XOCutieOX, Lou, AmazinglyMe, DeeSarrachi and GlumAndDumb. Thanks guys, you rock:0)