Two trucks pulled into the lot, and out of them poured two sets of familiar faces: Charlie and Millie hopped out of the first with their Foley goons in tow, Zoe and her brother from the second with two large Greeks of their own. The twins already had their guns out and they headed straight for the open warehouse entrance, just like Cheshire knew they would, but Zoe held back. He could only just see her beyond the doorway, holding onto Tiny Gi’s arm, carefully evaluating.

“Just go in,” Cheshire muttered, but even as the Foleys began to spread out, Zoe motioned for her men to each investigate around the outside. In moments they would be out of range and dangerously close to discovering his and Jakub’s hiding spots, so Cheshire did the only thing he could think to do.

“Heads up, Millie!” he shouted, and he lobbed the cherry at her head.

It struck her in the ear, and she jumped, yelping in surprise. The empty echo of the warehouse gave Cheshire a moment to duck outside the window before he could be located, and as the Foleys aimed their guns in every direction, Zoe’s two men stepped inside to aide the search. But Zoe and her brother remained still, and Cheshire was considering other options when something slammed into Tiny Gi from behind, throwing him into the building.

Zoe spun, but a moment later Jakub had her by the elbow, heaving her through the open entrance. By the time the Foleys had turned with guns raised, he was dragging down the shutter door, locking it into place before anyone could fire a shot.

“Thanks, Jake,” Cheshire whispered, grinning as finally everyone was inside, shouting and pulling at the door.

“Bloom!” Charlie shouted, spinning about with his finger close on the trigger of his revolver. “I know you’re in here!”

“It’s good to see you, too—” Cheshire started to call down, but when he peeked back through the window Millie opened fire, cracking the brick much too close to his face, and he had to retreat. “Hey, hey! You don’t want to do that!”

“I really do!” Millie hollered back. “Show me your face!”

“I thought you would have learned your lesson after the last time,” said Cheshire, much more confident now that they were back on script. “It’s not wise to cross a witch!”

“We’re not scared of you, Bloom!” Charlie retorted, but his wasn’t the only voice: his men and Zoe’s began to mutter to each other.

“What is he talking about?” asked Zoe seriously.

“Nothing—he’s a moron.” Charlie fired a few shots at the window, but Cheshire was completely protected from them behind the wall. “It’s you who’s going to regret crossing Foley!”

Cheshire laughed. “Your boss’ bakery says otherwise!”

“What is he talking about?” Zoe demanded again. “You said he was small-time.”

“He is! He’s bluffing!”

“Bluffing, huh?” Cheshire said under his breath, and he closed his eyes a moment to concentrate. He wished he hadn’t thrown his last cherry, but when he rubbed his fingers together he remembered the shape and the weight of it, could picture one just like it sitting in the bottom of a metal can furthest from the entrance. Just like you practiced, he told himself again, and with a deep breath he imagined lighting a flame in the tiny fruit.

The cherry exploded in a burst of fire, and Cheshire could hear everyone inside shout with alarm. By the time he peeked back through the window they had all backed away and were at the warehouse entrance, cursing and shoving at each other as they tried to pry the door open. It wasn’t the most impressive explosion Cheshire had ever been responsible for by far, but the dry paper it ignited sure made for a lot of menacing-looking smoke.

“Whoever you are,” Zoe shouted, “this isn’t how to do business! Let us out!”

“Only if the Foleys swear to stay out of Astoria!” Cheshire shouted back. “Queens is Kozlow territory now!”

“The hell it is!” screeched Millie.

“Suit yourself,” said Cheshire, and he blew the rest.

Everyone ducked, their swearing turning to panicked cries as the men threw their shoulders into the door. Cheshire left them to it—the smoke from the barrels was already making his vantage window rather stuffy. As he climbed down, he easily spotted Jakub nearby, who was eyeing the swirling black with some concern. Not that Cheshire had been honestly expecting his wholehearted approval, but he would have at least liked to have seen a glimpse of acknowledgment.

“See?” Cheshire said, replacing his glove as he joined Jakub in staring up at the building. “Nothing to worry about.”

Millie’s screaming rose above the others, and Jakub fidgeted. “You said this wasn’t an ambush,” he said disapprovingly.

“It’s not—they’re fine.” Cheshire waved at the side door nearby. “There are three other exits that aren’t locked, they just haven’t figured that out yet. And it’s a lot less fire than it looks like—you don’t really think I’d burn down a Szpilman building, do you?”

Jakub frowned, considering that. “What if they kick one of the cans over by mistake?”

“Then...that could burn down the building, I guess.” Cheshire shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “But that would be their fault, I think.”

Jakub sighed, but he didn’t offer any more complaints for a while, just watching the smoke billow out. He sure seemed to have something on his mind, but as usual wasn’t going to make cracking it out easy. Cheshire waited as long as he could stand to; his habit had always been to plough through, and he wondered if going against instinct would prove any more successful.

But it didn’t, so he gave another shrug. “C’mon, Jakub, didn’t I say to trust me? The Foleys are way out of line to be doing business this far north, now that we’ve got family up here—I wasn’t gonna let them get away with it. And now they know better. Didn’t even have to kill any of them to prove my point.”

“No, I guess not.” Jakub looked to him, his expression tight with something Cheshire couldn’t quite identify. “It’s just strange to hear you talk like that. You didn’t used to be the ‘make examples of them’ type.”

Hearing him say so made Cheshire’s skin crawl. For some reason he thought of blood in a dark alley, and he shook his head to clear it. “Yeah, well...you used to be more fun,” he retorted.

Jakub started to reply, but was cut off by the side door banging open. The two of them quickly retreated far out of range to be seen, and stayed there only long enough to watch the Foleys and Raptises escape their ordeal into fresh air. Charlie was in tears and Zoe and Millie furiously arguing with each other while Tiny Gi did his best to hold them apart. None of them seemed eager to charge off in search of their tormentor, and Cheshire smirked to himself as he and Jakub made their way back to the truck.

Grace was stretched out across the cab, hidden from sight, but she popped up as soon as she heard the pair of them approach. She opened the driver’s side for Cheshire and offered a hopeful smile. “Did it work?”

“Perfectly. Well, with some help from Jakub.” Cheshire settled behind the wheel while Jakub climbed into the passenger side. “I don’t think the Tighes will be giving us trouble again anytime soon.”

“Next time, just tell me the plan,” said Jakub. “I’m more help if I don’t have to guess what you’re up to.”

Cheshire started the truck. He wanted to reply with something witty, but the thought of having Jakub properly at his side for the next one churned sincerity out of him. “Okay. I will.”

“No you won’t,” Grace teased, elbowing him. “You’d much rather have him as part of your audience, you ham. Just like the rest of us.”

“That’s not true!” Cheshire protested exaggeratedly, though he did mean it. “I always want Jakub to be in on it—he’s the one that keeps turning me down.”

Jakub turned to look out the window. Apparently he was Done, leaving Cheshire and Grace to chatter among themselves as they headed back to the Szpilmans.

***

Wanda’s brother was waiting when they returned with the truck. He heard only half the story of the smoked-out Foleys before declaring that it was a tale fit for the whole family, and he insisted on leading the three of them into the shop’s basement, where a small but cozy lounge housed a collection of colorful Szpilmans and associates. The booze was weaker than the Foucher brew they were used to, but there was plenty of it, and it didn’t take much to convince Cheshire to regale them with his triumph. Grace did an admirable impression of the shrill Millie Tighe, to everyone’s delight. But when Leon took to the piano, that was when it became a party. Couples took to the floor, bumping into each other as they danced in the close space, switching partners at random. With the help of the drink soon everyone was singing to the music, none louder or better than Grace and Cheshire themselves. They were a perfect match to the jovial Szpilmans and couldn’t have appeared better pleased.

Jakub stayed back, nestled in a corner while watching them pass the night. He drank a little more than he should but it wasn’t his fault—he couldn’t think of any other way to try to drown out Cheshire’s sing-song voice. Of all Cheshire’s ticks and traits he’d managed to work out from under his skin, that laughter was the worst. He could bear Cheshire’s arm across his shoulders without blushing now, could stoically accept a compliment without his heart skipping in place. But that laugh? That singing? It was cruelty itself, and Jakub had too few defenses.

When Leon slowed the piano down for a ballad, Jakub was forced to retreat.

I just need a little more time, he thought determinedly as he leaned against the side of the building, the fresh air helping to clear his head. And then I’ll be over it and we can go back to normal. If he even wants anything to do with me by then.

Jakub sighed, pushing his hair back. “Fun, huh,” he muttered. Not a label he ever would have assigned to himself anyway, and he was fairly certain no one else ever had, either. He had no idea what he’d done to earn it in the first place, let alone how to gain it back. He grumbled to himself as he dug through his pockets, only to realize he’d already smoked his last cigarette down waiting for Cheshire to come back from his misadventure.

A car pulled up to the shop, and Jakub went still, straining his ears. He wasn’t in great shape to be fighting off a Foley retaliation if that’s what it was, but he was sure in a mood to make a ruckus enough to warn Cheshire and the Szpilmans. But it was Hannah that hopped out from behind the driver’s seat, her manner rushed.

“Jakub!” She marched over to him. “What the hell are you doing way out here this late?”

She didn’t look like she was in any better mood than he was, and he wasn’t sure he trusted himself to answer. Turned out he didn’t need to—Hannah grabbed him by the elbow as soon as she was in range and started pulling him back to the car. “Come on,” she said. “We need you back home.”

She was so insistent that she almost threw him against the passenger door before he could open it. “The hell is going on?” he asked as he shook free. “Bloom’s downstairs with the Szpilmans, shouldn’t we—”

“Just get in the car,” Hannah snapped as she moved to the driver’s side. “I’ll tell you on the way.”

She got behind the wheel, and Jakub had to hurry into his seat before she could drive off without him.

***

It wasn’t until the song was finished, and Cheshire was bowing modestly to the drunken cheers of his audience, that he glanced up and realized Jakub was gone.

He wasn’t surprised, but it still dampened his mood enough to want to sit out on the next round. Luckily, everyone was finally starting to reach the limits of their energy, and they all stretched out on the sofas and chairs, chattering simple inanities about the drink and the weather and how stupid Charlie Tighe must have looked, crying all the way home to his Foley boss. Cheshire helped himself to one last drink as Grace nestled beside him, taking note of the very pointed, very inviting looks the curly-haired Leon Szpilman was tossing in his direction.

“Now there’s a bad idea,” Cheshire thought aloud without meaning to. “I’d get an earful from Jakub for sure.”

“Why do you care so much what Jakub thinks anyway?” asked Grace, startling him. “He’s just a great big sourpuss.”

Cheshire squirmed, suddenly wishing he had either a lot less or a lot more alcohol in his stomach. “Because we’re friends! I mean….” He frowned, and deciding that more was the answer after all, he took a long gulp from his bottle. “I dunno, he’s been...different. I think I did something.”

“You’re always doing something,” said Grace. “Maybe he got sick of it, like I did.”

Cheshire sank deeper into the sofa, frowning harder into his booze. “Yeah, but...you’re here now, right?”

“Well, yeah, I got over it.” Grace rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t worry about him and just be fun, Chesh. It’s what you’re good at.”

“Fun, huh.” Cheshire glanced across the room for Leon again, only to find him missing, too. He was about to start feeling exceptionally sorry for himself when he spotted the man only a moment later—he was near the exit, hand over his ear as he tried to listen to a telephone. His eyes went wide, and once he hung up he turned to the group.

“Hey, quiet down!” he called, and everyone in the small assembly turned to look. “It’s Boss Kozlow. He’s in the hospital.”