Whistling in the Dark (36 page)

"I guess a friend can comfort a friend."

With ghosts of his own tugging at his coat-tails the past couple of days, Jack couldn't settle down to work, despite the swarm of customers making for a busy morning. At eleven, he finally wandered into the office. "Harry, I've got to run an errand."

Harry's pencil kept moving. "A little early for lunch, ain't it?"

"Not to lunch." Jack sat on the edge of the desk and leaned over to pluck at Harry's tie. "I want to go out to Green-Wood for a while." Harry looked at him then, sharp as tacks, and Jack smiled. "It's all right, isn't it?"

Harry sputtered, "Sure, of course." He stood. "We can close for the rest of the day--"

"No." Jack waved him back into the chair. "You don't have to close."

"It's no trip to take on your own, kid. Not the first time."

It wasn't the visit but the long ride out that Jack wasn't keen on. He looked at Sutton, absorbed in notations. "Want another go on the subway? I swear I'll be good this time."

"Since you promise," Sutton said, rising for hat and coat.

The subway was crowded with people heading to an early lunch, but free of any stark Board of Health warnings. Hanging on to the strap with both hands, Jack set his chin in the crook of his arm and flashed Sutton a grin. "Having fun?"

"I'd rather it wasn't so jolting." Sutton had given up the sling but Jack saw the way he held his left arm cradled against his side. The cars lurched to a halt and Sutton grimaced. "I'm glad not to have any broken bones. How about a cab on the way back?"

"That'll cost a good handful of pennies. I'll pay for half."

"And lunch?"

Jack laughed. "Harry's right. I am a bad influence on you. But don't tell him I said so."

"I thought you were cultivating a reputation for wickedness."

"Among friends, sure." Jack slipped an unobtrusive arm around Sutton as the cars started up again. "Not that Harry isn't a friend--he's just more than that. Really, he sort of picked up where my folks left off."

"He's not as stern as a father."

"My dad wasn't stern or strict. Harry used to joke I could've benefited from a good walloping. Poor Harry. I nearly drove him to quit half a dozen times. But my dad never gave me a sermon or the back of his hand--though there was a time or two maybe he should have. When I got in trouble with Ned and his crowd, I didn't know how worried my folks were until I heard them talk about closing up shop and moving away. My dad was ready to start all over again somewhere else, just to keep me out of trouble."

"You kept yourself out, then."

"I knew what the shop meant to my dad. He wanted to travel but he never got to, so he brought the world to him. You can see why I can't just abandon it, close up shop. I'd be giving up everything that mattered to him."

Sutton smiled. "Don't you think you mattered most?"

Jack shrugged. "After I heard them talk--well, I couldn't let them start over because of me. I broke for good with Ned--which wasn't too hard, since he was locked up for stealing a car."

Sutton's eyebrows rose and Jack couldn't suppress a wry grin. "And it might've been me locked up with him. But I quit all that. Went to school most days, worked in the shop, minded my manners. I just couldn't give up radio--or boys," he finished quietly.

"Did your parents know?"

"Sure, though I made a good show of calling on girls now and then. They never talked about it but I know they didn't love me less for it. My mom couldn't, anyhow. My dad always said when it came to me, her heart ran over with love to spare." Jack made hasty use of his sleeve and knew he hadn't been so subtle about it when a hand slipped into his. "They'll kick us off," he whispered.

"I'm sorry," Sutton whispered back.

He wasn't apologizing for the handholding. "It's okay." And it was. He could talk about his folks and it didn't hurt as much as it had. He was glad to have Sutton with him, especially when they reached Green-Wood, immense and forested, where even the birds sang a subdued note. The wind had dressed row upon row of gray stone in damp gold leaves. A solemn official in a black suit led the way to a shady corner where a single flat stone marked the site of two graves. A lot of the folks taken by the flu hadn't even that much, and gratitude swept Jack. Harry had done right by them, probably spending his last dime. Jack wished he hadn't taken so long to see it for himself. He wrapped an arm over Sutton's shoulders. "I haven't introduced you. Mother, Dad--this is Sutton."

Sutton regarded the marker half-hidden in the grass with sober respect. "Do you think they would like me?"

"They'd be crazy over you." He pressed his face into Sutton's coat. Sutton slipped him a handkerchief, the one he'd given Sutton before. It bore his initials, J.H.B., but smelled clean and starched, like Sutton. After a few minutes, he could breathe without the ache in his chest and he noticed it was raining. He grabbed Sutton's hand and they ran to the shelter of a crypt. Huddled in a mossy corner, they delved into each other's pasts while they waited out the rain.

_{- - -}

When the sun came out, they caught a cab for home, Jack musing along the way that if Sutton's family was anything like he'd described, Sutton coming to New York was a miracle. He remembered how he and Harry had joked about Albright Sr. having him arrested for corrupting Sutton. He couldn't laugh about it now. But what worried him more was the homesickness in Sutton's voice when he talked about the family and friends he had left behind.

"You all right?" Sutton sounded drowsy.

"Never been better." He loosened his hold on Sutton's hand and settled back against the cab cushions, shoulder to shoulder. Sutton leaned against him, eyes closing, and Jack felt more than heard the contented sigh.

- Forty-Four -

Sutton put the receipt book on top of the piano and picked up the sheet music on the stand. A voice came quiet and close to his ear. "You have to forget about Friday. If you don't give yourself a chance to heal--"

"I'm playing Friday, even if I have to fake it."

Jack's snort was faint but affectionate. "As if you would. You can't play today, anyway. Let's get lunch."

Sutton inched closer to the piano bench. "I'm not hungry. Let me practice an hour."

"Sutton--"

"Thirty minutes."

"Would you quit it? At least wait until the bandage comes off."

"I can play in bandages."

Jack turned him around, putting them face to face. "One month. You'll play again, good as new. I won't let anything stop you." His lips curved but his gaze stayed serious and steadfast with the promise. "Not even you."

Jack understood. Assured, Sutton acquiesced. "One month, then. Except for Friday."

Jack groaned. "Please just forget about Friday? I'm begging you." He clutched at Sutton's hand and dropped to his knees. "Please?"

"Jack, for heaven's sake."

"I'm not getting up until you say yes."

Harry walked past. "Little soon for a proposal, ain't it?"

Jack let Sutton pull him to his feet and peeked into the box in Harry's arms. "Lunch? Sandwiches--oh, pie. Blueberry?"

"Apple," Harry said.

"Sutton, Esther packed apple just for you, so you'd better come and eat it." Jack steered him into the office and sat him down. "After lunch, you can supervise while we repaint the front glass."

"Make sure the letters don't come out crooked this time," Harry said, with an amused glance at Jack.

"What did you expect," Jack said. "Picasso I ain't. Any forks or spoons in there?"

Harry dug through the box. "Hell, I forgot them."

"We'll use our army forks." Jack scooped a piece of pie with his fingers and handed the box to Sutton.

The sound of someone tapping at piano keys made them jump. "Customers," Harry muttered around a mouthful of sandwich.

"I'll go," Jack said and lurched out of the chair, taking the pie with him.

"Harry, do mind if I ask you something?"

Harry handed Sutton a soda. "Jack will run on about everything under the sun without letting you in on much, if he can get away with it."

Sutton nodded. "He told me a little of his... experiences overseas."

"Doubt he'd tell you the whole story." Harry uncapped another soda. "Took me a while to pry it all out. They sent him home with wounds they couldn't do anything about. And then I had to goddamned add to it with the news about his folks."

"You waited until he came home?"

"I had to." Harry picked at his sandwich, then tossed it onto the desk. "Sara died the same day Jackie got his papers to sail home. Jim made me swear I wouldn't break the news to Jack while he was overseas. I think he figured he'd tell Jack, himself--but he was bad off and losing Sara took all the fight out of him. He went to the hospital that night and didn't make it to morning." Harry sat back in his chair and let out a long breath. "It was left to me but--Jesus, how could I tell him in a letter? I thought he'd give up altogether--and that ain't no place to do it, in the middle of a war."

Sutton remembered the terrible secret Jack had confided. "You did the right thing. Never doubt it, Harry."

"You think so?" Harry didn't look as if he believed it. "Anyway--that's all you wanted to know?"

Sutton nodded. "He's been sleeping better. Not as restlessly..." Heat came over his face as he realized what he was saying. He cleared his throat and took a long swallow of soda. Harry didn't comment, but the trace of a smile was on his lips as he started back in on the sandwich. Fortunately, Jack returned, sparing them both.

"Ox is finishing up. Come and see."

They trooped out to find Ox dabbing white paint on the plate glass. Harry and Jack moved to the curb to take a look. "Damn sight better," Harry said.

"Better?" Jack said. "Hell, they could see that in Poughkeepsie."

Ox grinned and stuck his hands in the pockets of his paint-splattered trousers. "Not crooked?"

"Straight as an arrow." Harry scratched his chin, gaze traveling upward. "Makes those awnings look a little shabby, though."

"I'll wash 'em." Ox disappeared around the corner, for a ladder, Sutton assumed.

"While we have the awnings down," Harry said, "we ought to call over the movers and haul that piano upstairs."

Jack's smile vanished. "I guess we can do that."

There it was again, that doubt, and Sutton had to know where it came from. "You do want me to keep playing?"

"If he don't want you, I might hire you." Ned Hennessy stepped out of a cab, smart in both attire and attitude. "That is, after I've got this place looking like the cabaret it was meant to be."

If Ned was smug, Jack was altogether cool and triumphant. "Guess you haven't talked to Mrs. Madigan."

"I talked to Barchis. You got one up on me, Jackie boy. Pretty good, too. I sure never thought you fellows would get the nerve to go straight to old lady Madigan--"

"Watch your mouth," Harry said. "Show a little respect."

"I beg your pardon," Ned said, lifting his hat. "Dear Mrs. Madigan, if you will. So I'm in a little trouble, Barchis figures." He turned back to Jack. "I ain't the only one."

"Jack's not involved in anything illegal," Sutton said.

"No?" Ned stepped to the sidewalk, one hand resting on a gold-tipped cane in a gesture reminiscent of Marshall Chase. "You boys think you'll stay in business when your neighbors know there's queers keeping house right next door? Think folks'll come in, or listen to your little radio show?" His gaze shifted to Sutton. "Don't think I'd hire you after all. Wouldn't want anyone taking the place for some kind of fairy joint."

Jack's smile sent a shiver up Sutton's spine.

"Watch out for the plate glass, will you?" Harry said with a resigned note.

The punch Jack landed sent Ned staggering off the sidewalk. Ned had barely regained his balance when Jack crashed into him and they hit the ground with a violence that made Sutton flinch. Ned tried to get up and Jack knocked him back with a right that bloodied his nose. People passing slowed to watch. Ned latched on to Jack's shirt with one fist and swung with the other. Jack ducked the worst of it but the glancing blow had enough weight behind it to knock him down.

"Jack!" Sutton started toward them only to be brought up short by Harry on one side, Ox on the other. He turned to Harry in desperation. "You can't let this go on. Ned's bigger--"

"Yeah, but Jack's a whole lot madder."

Jack, back on his feet, shoved Ned hard enough to send him into the gathering crowd. It went on for some minutes while the crowd grew more vocal and Harry refused to relinquish his grip on Sutton's arm.

Jack started for Ned again and Ned warded him away with upraised hands. "Enough," he said, gasping for breath. "Jack, you're insane. You son of a bitch."

"My home," Jack said, breathing as hard. "My shop. And as for your dad's loan, that was paid back with the help my folks gave you after he was locked up.
You
son of a bitch."

"You're a goddamned fool." Ned spat blood on the road and licked a swollen lip. "Just like your dad--" Jack started for him and Ned backed off. "Stay here in this shithole of a neighborhood and spend your days rotting with all the junk you can't sell. I've got better things to do. And I sure got better places to be."

"Don't run off too fast. Someone else wants to say good-bye."

Woody waddled with an air of purpose down the sidewalk. At the sight of him, the crowd scattered, but he paid them no attention. His dedicated focus was not lost on Ned, who turned and fled for the nearest passing cab. Woody scrabbled after, until Ox found the presence of mind to snatch up the paint tarp and capture him.