You Might As Well Die by J.J. Murphy

Author:J.J. Murphy
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, Inc.
Published: 2011-12-05T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

Tony Jr. took a step closer. “We came across an old man running like a bat out of hell. He said he’d give us each two bits if we could find you and bring you to him.”

Dorothy did her best to sound like a rough young kid, too. “All right. So take me to him.”

“Not until we find out exactly what you’re worth.”

“What I’m worth?”

“You must be worth a pretty penny if he’d pay us each two bits to find you.”

The rotten little gangster, she thought. A shakedown in a side alley. What a night.

The gang of adolescent boys spread out, surrounding her, blocking any exit if she tried to make a run for it. Not that she could have—she was too winded.

She tried a bit of reverse psychology. She had read about it in a magazine article. “He’ll pay you more than two bits if you play your cards right. The man is worth millions.” She tried to speak casually. “But, fine with me if you don’t want to take me to the old jerk. I was trying to get away from him anyhow.”

Tony Jr. spoke in exaggerated baby talk. “‘I was twying to get’way fwom him any-ow.’” Then he spat, “What’s the matter with your voice? You some kind of queer?”

Dorothy looked at him squarely. Was that all? He wanted to trade insults? This, she could handle. She could speak insults in a variety of languages and dialects, including twelve-year-old pissant.

“Yeah, I’m queer, all right,” she said, her voice as tough as she could muster, the cigarette dangling dangerously from the corner of her lip. “Bring your pretty mouth over here and I’ll let you kiss my knuckles, the hard way.”

Some of the other boys tittered.

She continued. “Say, anyone got a match for my cigarette? Wait a minute. I’ve got a match—his face and my ass.” She pointed at Tony Jr. “Yeah, that’s a perfect match.”

The other boys laughed openly now. This level of humor, Dorothy thought, was right up their alley, so to speak.

Tony Jr. looked at his pals like traitors. “Pipe down, you mooks!” And they did. He turned back to Dorothy. “That old guy told us to bring you to him. He didn’t say we had to bring you in one piece.” He stepped forward, raising his fists.

Was he really about to punch her? She had belittled countless Broadway big shots and Manhattan matrons, any of whom would have gladly slugged her if given the chance. And here she was, about to get decked by a twelve-year-old boy who didn’t even know she was a grown woman.

What if she took off her cap and unveiled herself? You wouldn’t hit a girl, would you? But that might not be such a great idea. First, Tony Jr. would recognize her and perhaps drag her back to his ruthless mother. Second, there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t hit a girl. Or maybe worse.

Tony Jr. advanced toward her, hunching forward to strike a blow.

Well, the hell with it.

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