Chapter 15 #2
though your father—”
“Blast my father!” Jay interrupted. “And his school and all his high-and-mighty ways!” Jay clapped his hands over his mouth, eyes wide as if he didn’t mean to say
it out loud.
It was as if a dam of tension broke in me just hearing him say it. I laughed like a hyena in that diner and covered my mouth
too. And then we were both laughing—we were through with it all!
“Okay, so we’re in this together,” I said. “But we’re going to need more than Zihan to take on that side of town. We’ll need
the equipment to keep ourselves safe should things go as badly as they did with the protest.”
“Okay!” Jay gave an earnest nod. “I’m in.”
Visiting Jordan with Jay made me uneasy, but I wanted to trust him. Jordan had told me to stop by her warehouse, hinting at
something but keeping some cards close.
Jay and I made our way through the quiet streets to gather Zihan from the restaurant. He agreed without hesitation. He was
tired after his shift, and tired of working so much. He’d been restless, caught between loyalty to his family’s restaurant
and a desire for something more daring.
Together, the three of us set off toward Jordan’s warehouse, a sense of purpose settling over me, which replaced the hesitation.
Leading them to such a secret location may have been a bad idea, but she asked me to stop by and hadn’t said I couldn’t bring visitors. I had to build allies in this fight.
As we weaved through the housing projects in Jordan’s part of town, Jay put his hands in his pockets and looked around at
the trash on the streets. “So . . . you can’t tell me where we’re going?” he asked.
“You just have to see it,” I said. “Like I did.”
We paused at the door, and I knocked.
Vivian answered in seconds, sticking one half of her face out of the door. “Nick.” And then she looked at Jay and gasped,
polished nails flying over her mouth.
“Trust me, please?” I said. “I’m trying to figure out who started the West Egg fire and we need their help.”
“Oh?” Vivian didn’t open the door. Instead, she gave Jay a smile and stuck one ritzy leg, wrapped in a fishnet stocking out
of the door, as if to caress the wood. “How do you do, Mr. Gatsby?” she said, in a sultry voice.
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, brother.”
She smiled at him like she’d seen a celebrity, but then frowned at me. “Nick, you do realize Jordan will hang you when she sees him, right?”
“Jay’s father is the bane of his existence!” I screamed, and then looked at Jay, who was wincing. “Sorry.”
“Tell everybody my business, why don’t you?” Jay replied, voice slightly cracking.
“You don’t understand—it’s crucial information,” I told him. “I’m tired of everybody having an opinion on you and all of them being wrong!”
Vivian licked her lips, fluffed her hair and looked Jay up and down. “Yeah . . . I got a few opinions, all right.”
I could not be jealous of her advances in a moment when Vivian’s interest in Jay might get us through the damn door once and
for all.
She looked at Zihan. “And who are you?”
“Hello,” Zihan said, with a wide smile. “Zihan. Just here for the dramatics.”
“They’re my friends,” I said. “Please let us through. I promise nobody’s gonna snitch.”
Finally, Vivian resigned and opened the door wider. “Fine! But you’ll be explaining this to Jordan on your own. I vouched
for you, but I can’t do it for your friends.”
I walked them through the hideout, and to the kitchen, where the counters were crowded with tubes and tanks, glass bottles
of spirit, pitchers of syrup and packages of mint julep.
Daisy was at the stove dunking droppers into a boiling pot. She turned her head, and her eyes widened as she blinked at us.
“Um, Nick? Are you aware there’s a Jay Gatsby standing next to you?”
“Oh, hi, Daisy,” Jay said, looking up at the ceiling. “So, this is your hideout.”
Jordan entered the kitchen as if on cue and squinted at Jay and then Zihan. She looked around at the empty air, as if searching
for an answer. “Now how in the hell?” she said.
“Don’t worry!” I told her. “They can be trusted—I promise.”
“Nick,” Jordan said, putting her head in her hand. “I told you to come to the warehouse. I didn’t say bring your friends.”
“Jordan, nice to see you again,” Jay interrupted, his tone deep and measured. “I understand why you’re upset. And if I’d known
where Nick was taking me, I might have cautioned him to handle this more delicately. He’s focused on his investigation—maybe
too focused to think through every angle.” He cast me a glance before turning back to her. “But you and I are in business
together now, which means your needs are my needs. Whatever you need—a favor, a shipment, a connection—I can get it for you.
My father knows so many people!”
Jordan crossed her arms, eyes narrowing at him. “Oh, I see. So, you think you can just . . . smooth this over with your talk about your elite connections?”
“We’re here now, aren’t we?” Jay said. “We can’t afford to work at odds. Imagine we come out of this with new information
on a crime that all of Harlem cares to see solved. You can use it to gain influence over the clientele you work with.”
Jordan exhaled, mulling it over. Finally, she pointed at me. “You’re lucky your man’s good with words, Nick.”
“My . . . man?”
“And I do like seeing this side of you,” Jordan continued, over my words. “Showing focus and intention for once. Don’t let
me regret this.” She turned back to Jay. “We do this? We do it my way. There are a few things you’ll need before you go sniffing
around Aphrodite.”
“Thank you, Jordan,” Jay said, his tone full of charm.
“Don’t thank me yet,” she growled, heading for the door. “If this goes bad, I’m not saving your asses. Now, you’re going to
need a few things to successfully pull this off.”
Jordan led us to a part of the warehouse where punching bags hung from the ceiling and target boards were arranged on the
floor. The soaring ceilings and large rooms provided ample space to train, and some of her crew, dressed in black masks, were
out here laying combos into the swinging bags.
Jordan disappeared into a storage room and brought out a big black bag.
“Cops are cracking down on runners and ruffians,” she said. “We have to be prepared for anything we find in the streets. And
when my people are on jobs, you have to be ready for the heat to come down. No getting beat by the cops this time.”
Jordan pulled out a long gun, staring at Jay the whole time, as if she wanted to make sure he saw the strength of her firepower.
“So, you put the doohickeys in the whodunnits,” she said, loading a dart into a vessel in the gun. “And you strap it over
your shoulder, like this.” She raised the musket, closing one eye, and aimed at the target.
“Some street inventors rigged my gun, so it shoots darts now. Harmless and built for training.” Jordan fired the musket and out shot a dart, which hit the bullseye on the target across the room.
“But in the field, we use the real thing. The guy you want—Pierre—I asked around, and you’re right, Nick, he protects his clients from getting blasted in the press.
If there’s anyone who knows who started the fire, there’s a good chance that Pierre is the one to give ’em hush money to keep ’em silent.
You find Pierre, you might find the truth. ”
Jordan took more suitcases out from storage and opened one hard suitcase featuring another assortment of weapons and tools.
“This is dangerous. You must be strategic.” She turned to Jay and Zihan. “I still got half a mind to kick both of you out,
so show me what you got. I want to feel comfortable sending you out with my things. Daisy’s used to stuff like this, so it’s
probably smart for her to go too.”
Daisy, who’d followed us to the training area, nodded in dutiful agreement as Jordan pointed at Zihan.
“Let’s start with you,” she said.
Zihan walked to the center of the room and picked up a tiny steel tube, the size of a battery. He pressed a button on the
side and the tube lengthened to a staff. “Aha!” he said with a smile. “I thought that’s what this was. Ba used to use this
on set to train before his accident.” He began to punch at the air with it. “You punch with the stick. It doesn’t do much
damage, but it’s good to fight off crowds if there is a lot of people. The power is in the speed.” Zihan tossed me the staff.
I caught it and then I stepped forward as if I was next up in a talent show. Zihan moved to the end of the line. I repeated
his movements, amazed at the lightness of the stick, and how fast it could swing.
“Nice.” I chose a baseball bat from Jordan’s assortment of weapons. “I’m old school, I think,” I said, and looked at the underside of the bat handle. “I would probably use this end if I had to defend myself, so I don’t break any bones in their face.”
“Mm-mm,” Jordan said. Her arms were crossed as she shook her head. “You gotta get more comfortable breaking bones, Nick. That
cop didn’t give one snot about you when he had you pinned on the ground.”
“You know about that?” I asked.
“Of course I do,” Jordan said. “It’s called keeping your ear to the streets.”
“Not my best moment,” I said, holding the bat out to Daisy.
She took it from me and immediately placed it down again, stepping up to pick a little knife with a black handle. “Tom Buchanan
has a lovely kitchen, but in between mealtimes, it gets boring around the house. What else is a girl to do but learn to throw
knives?” She threw a knife, and it hit the target, causing me to flinch. “But you should never throw a knife unless you have
another weapon to go with it.” Daisy fished a tiny revolver out of the suitcase and aimed it at Jay.
“Whoa!” Jay said, putting his hands up. “Daisy, I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but—”
“Relax,” Daisy said, opening the chamber to show him it was empty. She smiled at Jay, who was next up. “Your turn.”
Jay stepped forward and took the gun from Daisy. “Never learned to use one of these,” he said, setting it down gently in the
suitcase. Then he took a coin out of his pocket. “Have you all heard of the disappearing coin trick?” He held a coin between
two fingers, and then with a wave of his hand, it disappeared.
I was quite impressed, but Jordan wasn’t.
“Really, Gatsby?” she said, raising a disapproving eyebrow. “A magic trick?”
Jay sheepishly pulled the coin out of thin air again and stuffed it in his pocket. “It’s the best I’ve got.”
“How fast are you?” Jordan asked.
“I once broke the record for the 100 meters,” Jay said, pulling down the waist of his pants slightly to reveal the track shorts
underneath. “But that was long before West Egg was even dreamed of!”
“Good grief.” Jordan rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say take your pants off. Definitely keep those on . . .” She went back to
the storage closet, this time bringing out a bag full of black masks. She took out the masks one by one and tossed them to
us.
I caught one and examined the thin black fabric with small silver rhinestones.
“Once you put on this mask, you become a ruffian,” she said. “A trouble-starter. An outlaw. You are no longer you, but someone
else entirely. You might have been working a boring office job, or as an undercover cop, or a student from an elite school.
But all anyone knows when you’re wearing these is that no one knows who you are.”
“This isn’t going to give me hives is it?” Jay said, laughing as he tried his mask on.
“What?” Jordan said with a straight face. “Don’t try to be funny, Gatsby—I don’t know you like that yet and I find it alarming.”
She gestured for us to follow her into the storage room.
Once inside, she pulled a map from one of the cases on the shelves.
She laid it on a wooden table in the middle of the cramped space and motioned for us to gather around it.
“You’re going onto foreign turf. Can’t guarantee there won’t be some problems. Act like you’re selling liquor—it’s your easiest way inside.
On entry, the password is Lepanto. This lets them know you’re rolling with the hard stuff.
Keep your masks handy. If things go wrong, find the nearest exit. But do
not be seen.”
She pointed to three corners of the map. “There are three exits to escape from. One on the east side of the building, one
on the front floor north side, and one in the basement. The basement leads to where the car will be waiting to take you out
of there. This is on loan, so I’ll hold your feet to fire if it’s not returned.”
Jordan clapped her hands, drawing our attention back to her. “All right, enough talk. Everybody out of my spot before I change
my mind. And don’t forget the masks—ruffians, remember?”
Jay said, “Jordan, whatever we do out there, we’ll return what’s yours. I know it’s hard to trust new people with your assets,
but I’ll make it worth your while.”
Jordan’s eyes narrowed at him, her suspicion still sharp as a blade, but she finally relented. “Don’t slip now,” she hissed.
“Or I’ll hold it against you forever.”
We left the warehouse for streets that were mostly deserted.
Jay slid his hands into his pockets. “Nick?” he said, his voice carrying a high-pitched lilt. “Next time you’ve got a wild
plan, do me a favor and run it by me first? I might be able to keep you from getting yourself killed by the scary mob boss.”
I chuckled a bit. “Jordan is more misunderstood than scary. Daisy, what do you think?”
Daisy, who had been walking just behind us with Zihan and asking him questions, widened her eyes some. “Misunderstood as in . . .
ruthless? Sure! But she certainly gets things done.”
Zihan chimed in with a laugh. “For a moment, I thought she might kick me out.”
Daisy put a reassuring grip on his arm. “We’re friendly to our neighbors who mean no harm.”
“Thank you,” Zihan said. “I have never been part of something like this before. But it’s good. I can be myself. You all make
me feel safe.”
A smile formed on Daisy’s lips. “Very good! We’ve all got secrets. Well, had secrets. You’re in good company.”
Jay turned to face all of us, and as he walked backward, his eyes moving between Daisy and me, something clicked in his mind.
“Okay so . . . you two are cousins?”
“Yes,” we both said.
Jay let out an energetic laugh. “I was right! This explains so much—the way you two talk, the way you trust each other! Why
you look similar!”
“Very smart of you, Jay,” I said, feeling light as a breeze.
“No more secrets,” Jay said. “You’re full of surprises, Nick Carrington!” His voice exploded like a firework through the night.
I quickly looked away and tamed my smile. No one had ever said that about me before, and for some reason it felt like I needed
a private room to respond to it properly.
Daisy stepped up beside me. “Look at us,” she said, her voice carrying sarcasm and whimsy. “A bunch of oddballs with nothing to lose!”
Ahead of us lay a dangerous mission at the Aphrodite Casino. It was a place none of us were prepared for, but would be far
easier to take on as a team.