29
Dash’s eyes fluttered open. At first, he didn’t recognize the room. Then he saw it was his bedroom and he was lying on the bed. Joe was sitting in the corner, staring at him with concerned eyes. Finn was in the other chair, blowing smoke rings out the opened window overlooking Commerce Street.
At that moment, a truck blared a horn, and the sound was murder on Dash’s head. He sat up and said, “Close that window, will ya, Finn?”
“Look who’s returned to the land of the living,” Finn said as he shut the window.
“Jury is still out on the living part.”
Dash felt coldness on his head and realized an ice pack had been placed there. He reached up and removed it. He said to Joe, “Don’t tell me the other side of my face is now black and blue.”
Joe shook his head. “Just a nasty bump on your head.”
Finn said, “It was utter chaos out there! I heard it was tens of thousands of people who showed up to see my Valentino.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Finney, they all tried to kill us.”
Finn placed a hand over his own chest. “Such is the power of the world’s greatest lover.”
Joe shook his head and said to Dash, “How ya feelin’, lassie?”
Dash took a deep breath. “I’ve had better days. What happened after I went down?”
“I picked ya up and carried ya off the street. Wasn’t easy with all them Valentino nuts weeping and shrieking. Never heard such noises in all my life. Once I got us to the cross street, I whistled for a cab. Miracle of miracles, we got one before the coppers started shutting everything down.”
“You carried me?”
Finn replied, “Over his shoulder and everything. I saw him coming into the apartment. Such strength. If he wasn’t with you, I’d have found a way to faint so he could pick me up.”
“Finn,” Dash warned. A question popped into his throbbing head. “Why weren’t you at the viewing?”
“I tried, dearie, honest I did, but the crowds were too much. I heard rumor they would have another viewing tomorrow.”
“I see.” Dash looked to Joe. “Did we lose Paul?”
“Aye. Disappeared without a trace. Called the construction place. He never came back. Went to his apartment while you were sleeping. Marjorie hasn’t seen him neither.”
“Damn.” Dash sat back against the headboard. “What time is it?”
Finn replied, “It’s a little past one.” He turned to Joe. “And I am just about starved. What say you to lunch? I could just about murder some deviled eggs and jam.”
Joe snorted. “I could just about murder you. Dash here is laid up in bed—all because of you and half the city’s obsession with this Val-en-tin-o bloke—and you’re talking ’bout eggs.”
The two men started arguing. Finn wanted to go to the Crystal because of the champagne. Joe wanted to know how Finney could afford champagne, since he knew good and well what he was paid.
Dash couldn’t take it. “Boys! Please continue this conversation elsewhere.”
His whole body felt sore. God knew how many times he was kicked and where. His knuckles ached, his head throbbed, and his ribs were probably bruised. On top of that, his legs felt stiff, and his stomach still smarted from when he ran into that little girl, her head making a perfect fist. He felt like a prizefighter. Only he hadn’t won.
Joe said, “C’mon, Finney. Let’s let the man be.” He looked at Dash, “Get some rest, now. I’ll be back to check on ya.”
“Thank you, Joe.”
Dash drifted in and out of consciousness. His dreams were feverish, often nightmares, and he’d awake startled to find himself alone. Sometimes the dreams would blur into reality, the images staying in the room until he went back to sleep.
As the sun began to set, Dash rolled over to see a figure standing by the dresser, his back towards Dash. “Joe? Joe, I need some water.”
The figure set off to the washroom, but before he could return, Dash fell back into another dream.
A sudden crash of thunder caused Dash to sit up straight in bed. Joe was sitting in the chair by the window, watching the storm batter against the glass.
“There he is. Ya have a nice rest?”
“I believe so. My head certainly hurts less than it did.” Dash looked around the room. “Did you bring me some water?”
“Water? When did ya ask for that?”
“A while ago. At least, I thought I did.”
Joe stood up. “I think you were still dreaming. You haven’t said a word since I’ve been here.”
He left the bedroom and went to the washroom.
Dash eased himself out of the bed and limped towards the window. The glass was streaked with rain. Lightning flashed in the distance. On the street below, people scurried underneath black and gray umbrellas, dodging puddles on the sidewalks and in the streets. He heard a creak behind him and turned to see Joe with a glass of water.
Dash said, “You’re an angel among men.”
“And you’re a silly goose. I’m opening Pinstripes now, though I doubt anyone will be out in this weather. You stay here and keep resting.”
Dash made a salute. “Aye aye, captain.”
Joe rolled his eyes and left the apartment. Dash saw his figure below, joining the throngs of people sloshing through the storm. He sipped the water, grateful the nausea had long since passed.
Another crash of thunder. What a horrible night to be out. It was then Dash realized it was Tuesday night and he owed Walter a name. He groaned. If he missed another deadline, Walter would for certain turn them all in. Pinstripes would be raided, and he, Joe, Finn, and Atty would go to jail. He couldn’t let that happen. Not after all they’d been through.
Dash finished the water and dressed slowly and carefully. He didn’t want to risk pulling a Boone and passing
