Her back still hurt from a recent beating, and she cooed comforting word into her stuffed rabbit’s ear as if he had been hit and not her.

The rain began to pout down from the sky, slowly at fist, but then a steady pour. She watched the nuns hustle in all of the children they could see inside the building, and then closed the heavy, wooden doors, leaving little Zoey outside, forgotten about.

Zoey went and stood innocently outside the doors of the orphanage, letting the rain pour down around her small form. Abruptly, she turned and scuttled up to the tall, black, iron, gate and slipped her body between the bars, which even for her was a tight fit. She stepped away from the gate and disappeared into the crowded streets of New Jersey.

All though she knew walking out of the orphanage grounds were strictly off limits-she didn’t care. She was too angry with the nuns and friars that took care of her and far too angry with the other children. She figured they probably wouldn’t be worried about her enough to even look for her.

The streets of Jersey City were quite crowded and seemed safer on the sidewalks. Everyone was so tall. Her large eyes daunted at everyone she saw, her mouth wide open.

It was then that a small rock hit her between her shoulders. She screamed and began to cry instantly even before she spun around to see a couple wild boys running towards her, throwing rocks about. Quickly, she turned and ran into the crowds.

 * * *

"That was probably the wohst game I evah saw you play, Rat," a short, auburn-haired girl taunted Ratface McMichaels as they left a bar where they had challenged each other for a game of pool.

The tall boy beside her with a scowling expression starred in her direction for a moment. "I jus’ wanna point out dat when you loose, I don’t rub youh face in it," Ratface grumbled with a scowl, his shoulders slumped over, hitting a pebble with his shoe as he shuffled along.

"Ah, youh jus’ bein’ a sohe loosah," she chided proudly, walking an alienating circle around him.

He rolled his eyes at the girl about six years younger than him, yet the winner… Ah, well, his day was spoiled to say the least. "I didn’ even wanna play anyway." He angrily stuck his hands in his pockets. "Why couldn’ we jus’ ‘ave gone to youh place for a nice, big, barrel of whiskey ‘r somethin’?"

She shrugged simply and chuckled as the rain began to pout down, which made his face twist even more underneath the shadow of his cap. She looped her arms around his and continued to walk along by his side. "Shahks gets jealous easy," she explained. "Foh some reason he t’inks dat since I cheated on Spot I’d cheat on him."

Ratface chuckled to himself when he remembered how angry Spot was a about a month ago when Spot kicked Riffraff out of the place they lived because Riffraff was underneath a man she had been cheating on Spot with for a few months before. With the most sarcasm he could manage he said, "Huh. Why would he t’ink somethin’ like dat?"

Riffraff lowered her eyebrows. "I bet his bruddahs tol’ him. No good, they ahe. It had to be them… Shahks can’t think foh himself!" She shook her head tetchily. "Well," she eventually said. "He’ll get ovah it eventually," she assured then squinted up at the down-pouring rain. "And I’d bettah get home ta get ready for wohk," she told him.

He gave an agreeing smile and kissed her on the cheek adoringly. "All right. Take cahe of youhself," he insisted.

She grinned and parted from his arm. "You too." She began to walk off and waved at him before walking down a cross street. "See ya latah, Jordan." She winked as she said his real name, since hardly anyone ever used it.

He continued on and adjusted his cap on his head. It was a long trudge to Brooklyn, but one he would be happy to make as quickly as possible. He quickened up his step, but still a girl that barely came up to his knee ran by him screaming at the top of her lungs. Two boys who were about seven years old brushed past him right after, chasing her with rocks and laughing maliciously.

Ratface was never a big fan of the rock-throwing-at-defenseless-girls game, and quickly jogged ahead of the boys and grabbed the little girl’s arm, forcing her to stop.

The boys took this moment to "fire" the last of their "ammo" onto the little girl’s arm and leg.

The little thing yelped and sobbed as she tried to tug out of Ratface’s grip in order to escape her cruelties. He immediately turned around and shouted at the two boys to ‘get da hell outta heyah’ before he ‘ripped’ their ‘skin off and made a coat outta it’. The boys looked at each other, and taking the threat seriously, turned heel and sprinted away.

Ratface looked down at the girl who shuttered in his grip then squatted down to be somewhat near her height. "Ah you okay, sweetie?" Ratface asked the sobbing child, who was shielding her head with an old, dirty, beaten-up rag doll that resembled a rabbit in a way.

"No!" Zoey cried, lowering the rabbit to rub her left eye with her first.

"Did dey get ya wit’ da rocks pretty good?"

She nodded and sniffled.

"All right, whehe’s youh mum?" Ratface asked with a soft sigh.

The girl gave him a twisted, confused look.

It was at that moment Ratface realized what she was wearing; a uniform that he recognized from an orphanage on Fourth Street. "You’re not suppose ta be wanderin’ da streets, hun," Ratface scolded kindly. He tightened his grip on her arm again and began to stand up. "Come on. Le’s take you ‘ome."

The girl quickly snapped her arm away and began to run in the opposite direction, but she only got a few steps before Ratface pulled her back.

"Wha’s da mattah?" he asked delicately.

"I don’ wanna go back!" she cried, holding the rabbit to her chest tightly. Tears fell down her soft little cheeks.

It nearly broke Ratface’s heart to see the kid in such distress. "Why not?" he asked softly, so not to frighten it away.

"Because deyah mean ta me!" she answered with almost a shout, and then began to sob loudly again.

He bit his lip and looked up at the sky as if looking for a sign from God. He got hit in the eye with a raindrop. Ratface looked back down, and after coming to a decision said, "All right, well, I guess ya came come wit’ me for awhile, den." He began to take off his jacket. "Le’s get ya outta dis rain foist, shall we?" He dropped the jacket over her head and shoulders then reached down and picked her up from under the arms and set her on his right hip. With a free arm he held her to him and with the other hand he gently wiped the rain and tears from her cheeks. Then he finally began on his way again.

"Where awe we goin’?" asked this exceptionally trusting toddler.

"Brooklyn," Ratface answered simply, walking along his way. "You can spend tonight deyah wit’ me whehe ya can cool off a bit, den bright an’ eahly tomorrah mornin’ I’ll take ya back to youh home an’ see if we can get youh problems straitened out. All right?" He looked towards her. "Sound good?"

The little girl nodded.

 * * *

 "You’he jus’ full a’ bad ideas dis yeah, ain’t ya?" Spot hissed at Ratface later that afternoon after seeing the mess Ratface had brought home. Spot felt no shame in acting like Ratface had just brought in a stray cat with rabies, as he didn’t like children very much at all, especially little girls who were the ‘pests of existence’.

"It ain’t ta stay," Ratface repeated for what seemed to be the billionth time.

Spot shook his head. "No! No! No kids undah da age of ten. I believe we went t’rough dis," he said stubbornly, crossing his arms. "You made da rule youhself."

"Well, I’m changin’ dat rule foh a day," Ratface snapped back. "Is dat okay wit’ you?!"

"No!" Spot replied angrily. He didn’t size Ratface up for a fight, however, like he normally did during an argument with anybody. He could have beaten Ratface, more than likely, but there wouldn’t be anymore honor to it then a bum beating up a saint. "All right," Spot said after taking a deep breath. "One night."

Ratface nodded, thinking that that was what he wanted all along. "Yep. Jus’ one."

Suddenly, Spot felt a tug on his pant leg. He looked all the way down, glared at the child and snapped, "What?!"

The little girl looked up and giggled, running instantly afterwards to Ratface’s legs, of which she hugged affectionately. "You’he funny lookin’," the little girl mentioned.

Spot’s cheeks flushed red and glared at Ratface like he was made of stone.

Ratface smiled and gave a guilty-sounding, ‘heh’, then picked the girl up and walked off. "Zoey-how old ahe you?"

"T’ree!" the girl replied proudly.

Ratface made an excited expression. "T’ree? Wow! You’re gettin’ ta be really old! When did you turn t’ree?"

"A few weeks ago!" The girl smiled happily, and flopped her toy around playfully.

"Really?"

She nodded. "Uh-huh."

"I t’ought she was about six t’ousand yeahs old!" Spot mentioned across the hallway.

Ratface turned and asked with a laugh, "Why?"

" ‘Cause dat’s how ol’e Satan is!" Spot remarked.

"Spot…" Ratface drawled, shaking his head at his best friend.

"Ya said it youhself! ‘Da Dahk Prince takes many fohms!’" Spot called.

"Don’t be an idiot!" Ratface snorted, then walked up to his room in the attic with the child, her loose leg kicking lightheartedly.

 * * *

 Ratface came into the room, which was very plainly furnished but did bare a couple of wooden chairs before a wooden desk that was underneath a wooden cross and had an old nun (who was not wooden) sitting at it with her hands neatly folded.

He politely took off his cap and stood by the doorway until he was permitted by the woman to take a seat. He had just left Zoey sitting on a bench just outside the door with her stuffed rabbit hopping across the air, guided by her hand.

"First of all, young man," the old woman began. "I would like to thank you for your kindness and for returning Zoey back to us. God bless you."

Ratface rolled his eyes for he was infuriated after having talked with Zoey so much that day and hearing what she had to say and even the mere fact that she was on the streets made him upset. "I don’ cahe if He blesses me or not!" Ratface replied sternly, his eyes narrowed. "Don’ you lock da gates of dis place or do you prefer to let t’ree yeah olds run around on da streets?" He gave a laugh at the incredibility of it all. " I mean, come on, Sistah!"

The woman frowned at his strait-forwardness and stated, "This very rarely happens. You see, Zoey’s far too young to know any better than to wander off and is unfortunately able to slip between the bars of the gate." She shook her old, habited head. "We believe that she was just upset from being punished yesterday afternoon for throwing a tantrum during mass!" She chuckled a bit but then went on with a sigh. "It makes no difference, anyhow. It can’t happen again," The old woman finished and began looking through a file.

Ratface arched an eyebrow and leaned back in his seat. "Why is dat?"

"Oh, well, Zoey was recently adopted by a family in Kansas-that’s in the Midwest." She figured she had better break it down for him. "Well, they sent us word of need for a few children to help out on their farm, and so Zoey was our first candidate."

He felt as f his blood was flowing cold through his heart. "What?" He interjected, his voice in obvious protest. "Why would ya wanna send a lil’ kid so fah away?"

"Zoey doesn’t quite fit in here," the old one explained ever so simply. "The other children don’t particularly like her, nor does she like them. Also, she’s far too impossible! We try to punish her but then she does more wrong to get even with us." She straitened her back and stated sternly, "Such vengeance will not be tolerated on these premises."

"She’s jus’ a kid, dough, Sistah," Ratface pleaded.

"And she’ll be just that in Kansas as well," replied the nun crisply. She took that moment to try to get this man out of her office before he was able to get any more upset. "Thank you…. Oh-I’m sorry, I never asked for your name."

He slowly got out of his chair and said sadly. "Jordan McMichaels." He gave her one last glare then headed towards the door.

The nun suddenly gasped and said, "Young man-excuse me-did you say Jordan McMichaels?" She looked at a paper in front of her with flabbergasted expression.

He turned and slowly nodded. "Yes," he granted, cocking his head to the side for a moment afterwards.

She cleared her old, wrinkly throat and asked, "You wouldn’t, by chance, know the name ‘Celeste Walker’?"

Ratface nodded, quite perplexed. "I did know her." He paused and added proudly, "I knew her quite well."

Her eyes darted up at him, her mouth hanging open. "Mister McMichaels… Mind you sit down again for a moment?" She requested.

He complied obediently; his back became erect on the seat as his interest grew. "Whassa mattah, Sistah?" He asked, looking from side to side.

The reverent mother pursed her lips, not sure what she was going to say next. "Celeste Walker joined the convent over three years ago." She watched Ratface’s eyebrows shoot up in amazement. "Unfortunately, she was called west to San Francisco to serve the Lord shortly after she took her vows."

"Oh, well, I’m glade to hear that she’s doing so well," Ratface replied with a grin. He remembered Celeste very well. She was a very nice soul indeed, but he always felt guilty about dating her for she was obviously made for God. He decided that she was all God’s, and now he knew he was right.

"She took her vows shortly after giving birth to your child-Zoey Joesaphine Walker." Her words flowed out of her mouth so quickly that she couldn’t have expected anything less than the boy before her falling backwards in his chair and landed on the ground with a thump.

After he had recovered and climbed off the floor, he croaked in disbelief, "What?!"

The old woman nodded. "That’s what it says in Zoey’s records," she explained. "Father-Jordan R. McMichaels. Mother-Celeste A. Walker."

"Why wasn’t I told about all dis?!" He inquired with frustration, gripping his hands together and feeling faint.

"No one could find your place of residence. I doubt even Celeste knew… Nor do I blame, her. Probably trying to block out the memory of a man raping her." She glared at Ratface with her lips pursed tightly.

Ratface’s eyes squinted. "I didn’t rape ‘eh!" he defended. "I sweah… It was jus’.. Jus’ one of those times, ya know?" Ratface responded, his voice in breathless squeaks and squeals, remembering the event and how shy Celeste was when he made love to her. Looking back, it did seem like he pushed her into the event, but it certainly didn’t seem so at the time. Now he felt chest of guilt, his brain still in shock. He put his face in his hands like it would block out the world.

Her eyes seemed to look him over. "Well, anyway, she said that you lived in Brooklyn, New York at the time, but no more than that," she returned very matter-of-factly, trying to avoid the argument she would, with out doubt, win. "No real address… She didn’t know where you lived exactly."

He put his hand on his forehead and continued to breath deeply.

"I know that this is a lot to take in all at once, my son, so I’ll give you a moment." She paused for a good moment. "Are you all right?"

A whimper came from his direction.

"All right… I’ll give you another moment."

"What does dis mean?" he quavered. "Will she come live wit’ me now, ‘r somethin’?"

The old woman shook her head. "No… You see, normally we’d like to see children with their natural parents but…" She paused and asked. "Do you even have a legal place of residence?"

His body froze. "Not really…" he admitted with a blush, for he had been trying to afford to by the old firehouse he lived on for he had been fearing that the government would find out that over the years the place had been made into a non-profit flop house and would take it away, leaving the lot of boys homeless. "But it’s a nice place…"

"I’m still afraid we can’t give her to you," she stated coldly. She added with a laugh, "The state doesn’t suggest that we shove children back onto the streets!"

"But you’d send ‘er to some wohk-fahm in da middle of nowhehe?!" He shouted suddenly, his emotions unsure of themselves.

"Don’t raise your voice in the house of God!" She scolded callously. She closed the file and said, "You don’t want an inconvenience like Zoey in your life, anyways."

"Inconvenience?!" He echoed. "My daughtah ain’t no inconvenience!" He held his breath for a moment and exhaled. "She’s a sweet heaht. She’s hahmless." He paused as he realized that he called her his daughter.

He had a daughter.

Zoey Josephine Walker… What a beautiful name.

"I feel cheated not knowing until now," he growled, leaning menacingly against the desk. "She’s commin’ wit’ me." He turned and began to trudge towards the door.

The nun stood up from her seat and tried to scurry up behind him, snapping, "You can’t be serious! She’s wild! You’re too poor! You’ll ruin your life and hers!" The old woman darted in front of the door to block him. "She shouldn’t live with your sinful ways! You nearly ruined Celeste’s life with yourself-why ruin hers, too?"

He refused to listen to her, pushed her lightly out of the way and swung open the door of the room and stepped out.

Zoey looked up from the bench she was sitting on with her eyes wide. "Wha’s wong?" she asked, cocking her head to the side.

Ratface looked down at Zoey and gave a warm smile. He reached down and picked her up and set her at his side. Zoey’s rabbit hung loosely from her hand, looking mangled. "Youh gonna wit’ me from now on, Zoey. Would ‘ja like dat?"

Zoey gave a smile full of tiny teeth. "Yeah!" She cried, but then paused and looked down at her rabbit and frowned. "Can Mistah Hoppity come, too?" she asked cautiously.

He grinned and said, "Of cohse Mister Hoppity can come!" He paused and gave her an inquiring look. "He doesn’t eat too much, does ‘e?" He gave an amused grin.

She shook her head. "Uh-huh. I jus’ feed ‘em all my vegi-tables," she explained.

The reverent mother looked at the scene and heaved a heavy sigh and asked a younger passing nun to fetch the rest of Zoey’s clothing from her bed. She walked into her office to grab Zoey’s file, muttering something about God working in mysterious ways.

"Can I have Spot’s woom?" the child wondered.

Ratface chuckled in response. "Where’d Spot live, den?"

"On da flooh?" She suggested with one eye squinted.

He smiled and gave his daughter a kiss on the forehead. What could this angel possibly have done wrong?

 * * *

 Zoey came to live at the lodging house, as Ratface promised. Spot rumbled, grumbled, punched holes in walls, threw stuff around, but she stayed all the same. "Asshole," Spot snapped at Ratface every singly morning for a whole week as if he’d spent some heavy-duty time with Riffraff McColley, who had the dirtiest mouth of anybody he knew.

Keeping his silence about his relationship with Zoey, who was infamously becoming known as "The little fool of Forth Street" with the help of Spot, who normally just called her "Fool", was probably the hardest thing he had ever done.

Rocks, his little brother, was probably the closest one to figuring it all out. "Ya know," Rocks said one day, smoking a cigar and drinking a small flask of whiskey. "She even has your eyes." He was joking, of course, but Ratface didn’t laugh. He simply smiled to himself proudly.

Ratface would pull her onto his lap in the light of a nearby candle and read her a book that he was trying to finish which was far too sophisticated for her, put he still made voices of the characters and read it all in such a sing-songish manner that she would smile brightly and clap her hands together. Sometimes she get out of bed and would bring the book to him when he didn’t read it to her and just tried to tuck her in, dragging her rabbit on the floor and the book in her other hand and didn’t mind at all that she was interrupting the conversation he was having with his friends. She would hand it to him saying, "Book?" in such a way it warmed his heart and he would forget that he had forbidden her to come downstairs after ‘bedtime’.

"Dante Inferno’s Punishments isn’t a book I’d read to a kid, Bro," Rocks told Ratface one night as he listened to the story time with a flask of whiskey in his hand.

The thing that nobody seemed to understand was that Ratface had immediately taken her out to buy her some small outfits that weren’t from the orphanage. He hadn’t gotten himself a new pair of shoes in over three years (as he was saving his money to nobly buy the old fire station he lived in’s deed) and they nearly had holes in the bottoms, yet he had no second thoughts to buying his daughter her necessities.

Ratface tried to be a good father, if just because he felt so guilty about the first couple of years of her life, which he was not a part of, and also because of what he did to her mother, which he still felt guilty about. He dealt with her occasional tantrums with the utmost patience by just standing there and watching while everybody else that had witnessed waited for the child to get hit. That, of course, never happened.

Spot would glare at him. For the first few months he had probably received an upward amount of one thousand glares, and that was just because of Fool.

Spot tried everything in his power to change the fate of Fool’s stay by leaving out very sharp objects in reachable view, but the child never seemed to trip or fall while running unless she was holding something fragile that Spot really liked, and so she’d unfortunately never permanently injure herself.

The worst feat the infamous Spot Conlon of Brooklyn tried to pull was the dangerous feat of actually taking her stuffed rabbit away from her. He walked into his room one afternoon and found that she had used the tin of ink that Ratface had given her to draw with. There were handprints and prints of poorly drawn rainbows, trees, and cats all over Spot’s room’s walls.

Worst yet-Ratface was gone on a date with a girl and Spot was doomed to watch her until he got back. He just stood there for a moment in deep, dreary thought as he watched Fool finish up a cat’s whiskers with her ink-stained finger. Finally he stomped over and pulled her arm away, gripping her wrist.

Zoey’s eyes popped wide as she saw Spot’s expression. "Whassa mattah?" She asked innocently.

Spot pursed his lips and began to take off his belt in a hurry… Not fast enough, of course, because suddenly he heard Rocks in his doorway because the boy went, "Wo-o-ow! Look at da mess in heyah!"

Zoey looked at the mural she drew proudly and chewed on her dirty old rabbit’s ear.

Spot redid his belt and looked down at the child. "You! In youh room, now!" Spot ordered pointing towards the door.

Zoey frowned and whined, "Why?" She turned to Rocks, gripping her rabbit close to her.

"Why?!" Spot echoed. "Why?" He turned to Rocks for some support.

"Zoey, go upstairs, now," Rocks revoked sternly, crossing his arms. He knew that he was Zoey’s second favourite person next to his brother.

"Fine!" She replied, stomping her foot on the ground. She looked down at her rabbit and ranted to it on her way to the door, "Come on, Mistah Hoppity. Let’s go upstaihs ta play."

Spot, his face still red and jaw still locked in anger, quickly stepped over and ripped the rabbit from the little girl’s arms and threw it onto his bed. The child gasped and quickly scuttled towards it, but was held back by Spot’s strong arm. She struggled against it and stomped on his foot, which did gave her some leeway to scoot by him and jump onto his bed and reach for the rabbit.

It proved to be just an inch away from her little fingers before she was grabbed and hoisted underneath Spot’s arm, where he walked her outside of the room and up a steep flight of stairs with her legs kicking and her arms flailing madly. She loudly began to sob. "No!" She screamed. "Mistah Hoppity!"

But it was too late. Spot dropped her onto the floor of the attic and stood strait in front of her. "If you even t’ink about leavin’ dis room, I will put you in such pain, you wont even remembah you had a rabbit!" he threatened, his eyes forcing all serious into her face of ink-stained noses and cheeks. He stomped out of the room and slammed the door behind him, satisfied to hear the loud, breathy sobs from the other side of the door.

 ~ ~ ~

 Rocks and Spot sat comfortably across each other. Rocks was telling Spot a few of his stories he had during his stay on his uncle’s farm in upstate New York, were he spent most of his life excluding the last couple of years were he joined his brother, Ratface, to live with him.

Spot didn’t think they looked anything alike and mentioned that.

They chuckled and decided Ratface was the ugly one, if only because of the scratch across his cheek and because he was missing a big hunk of his right ear, seem on the brim, which, along with a slightly large nose, had Christened him with the name of "Ratface" for he looked like an actual street rat after an unfortunate meeting with the neighborhood cat.

Some of the other guys that boarded with them came into the room and started to play cards and tell dirty jokes. If there was any reason why they’d put up with living with each other, it was to actually socialize like they were.

Eventually, Ratface came in with a smile on his face, as he had just had a lovely time with a beautiful girl from the Bronx. Although, he knew the relationship was too be doomed already. The girl had the most nasally voice he’d ever heard in his life. He loosened his tie as he came into the room, which was cloudy and stunk like cigar smoke, and said with a happy yet weary voice. "Hey, boys. How’s it goin’?"

"Pretty Good." "Swell." "I want to die, like always." "It’s goin’, and so’s my money at da moment." "How’s it goin’, Rat?" "How’d it go?" "Get any action?" "Hahaha!" "Ha-(coughing and hacking)… Ha." Came the noises and coughs from around the room. Everything was rather mild and calm, just the way Ratface liked it. It was a good day, all he had to do to complete it was to read the rest of the book about the ways of hell to his barely three-year-old daughter.

He clamped Spot on his shoulder as he passed by the chair he was sitting on, smoking a cigar. "How was Fool, Spot?"

Spot turned his head and peered at Ratface as if he had asked him that just to annoy him. He then replied bitterly, "Did you give her ink, by any chance?"

That wasn’t quite the reply Ratface was expecting, and had to register it into his head. "Yeah," Ratface replied simply as if every body buys little girls ink.

Spot turned back around into his original position and took a long puff. "Dat would explain, den," Spot continued. "Why deyahs a fuckin’ MURAL on my WALL!" he barked, tilting his head back at him for just the shouting parts. Spot seemed to have a vein coming from his neck that Ratface had never noticed before.

For a moment Ratface looked at him as if a person with a foreign language shouted at him. He opened his mouth, eventually, to speak. "I’m sorry, Spot," he apologized sincerely. "I shoulda known she’d do dat… She don’t know no bettah."

"Well, Rat, dat’s because you haven’t taught her. I tell ya what, I’m close to goin’ up there right now and beatin’ some sense into her," Spot spat just as sincerely.

"She’s only t’ree yeahs old," Ratface reminded desperately.

"She’s old enough ta leahn," Rocks replied. "See, kids staht out dumb. Ya gotta beat the smahts inta ‘em." He paused and waved a glass of whiskey at him. "I mean, look what Pop did for you! You’he an Irish man wit’ a desk job!"

"Yeah, but you suah ain’ showin’ no signs of genius," Ratface shot back as if he had just been insulted. There was a pause of silence between the three and he sighed. "Okay, okay, I’ll talk to ‘er," he promised, and opened up the door to the attic and began to drag himself up the old, creaky stairway.

Right before he entered the room he stood up strait with his shoulders back, forced himself into a mean glare and swung open the door, ready to yell at her. But when he did open the door, he glared about the room only to find Fool in her bed of blankets sobbing rabbitless on the floor, looking miserable and teary-eyed. He flew to her side and wrapped his arms around her, rubbing her back compassionately while shushing and cooing at her, "What’s wrong, Zoey?"

"Spot took Mistah Hoppity!" she whined through her sobs with a scratchy, dry voice. She buried her head in his best and he could hear her murmur, "He needs to sleep wit’ me! He’s afraid ob da dahk an’ he can’t sleep wit’ out me and he’s scahed wit’ out me!" she pleaded and sniffled pathetically.

Ratface heaved a sigh and kissed her hair, which was smooth and had soft little curls that he recognized as her mother’s. "All right," he sighed as he stood up slowly. "I’ll go get ‘im." He bent down and wiped her tears away and, after giving her a warm smile, left the room and started downstairs.

He snuck past the main room and went strait into Spot’s room. He opened the door and looked about curiously, looking for the rabbit. It wasn’t located anywhere obvious to sight, and so he walked toward the trunk in the corner of the room and tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge, seeing that it was locked. He bit his lip thoughtfully.

"Thinkin’ dat dis would be convenient?" Spot asked from right behind him, attracting Ratface’s attention so that it was attracted to the key that Spot was dangling from his fingers before he shoved it into his pocket.

"Yeah," Ratface replied, looking quite annoyed. "Gimme da rabbit."

"So you can give it back to dat brat upstaihs?" Spot replied with a hiss. "You can’t keep doin’ dis. If you wanna keep her as a pet-puppy-thing dat’s your own business, but I ain’t gonna jus’ stand around so she can wreck everythin’ around ‘er."

"Hey, Spot, shut your trap an’ gimme da rabbit," Ratface said, locking his jaw and glaring at Spot the way he should have looked upon Zoey. "Not tomorrah. Not next week, now. You ain’t got no right takin’ it."

Spot just glared right back at him. "Make me, asshole."

The two seemed to face down for a second, but it was intentional. Ratface rolled his eyes and turned around as if he was about to withdraw from the threat. Instead, he spun around and punched Spot in jaw. Spot stood for a moment in shock, his head turned from the hit. He hadn’t really expected Ratface to really strike, but his shock was quickly replaced with anger and ambition. He charged at Ratface noisily, both hands tightened to fists and having at Ratface’s face and body as the other boy fought back.

Shouts and swears from the two eventually led a crowed of their close friends into the room, who watched in silent awe.

Ratface may have been a few years older than Spot, but he was being beaten bloody by him, who was the better fighter. Ratface ended up sprawled on the floor, blood dripping from his nose and lip. His wincing showed his surrender and Spot stood up, finally, ripped the key from his pocket and opened his trunk. He took the rabbit and threw it onto Ratface’s beaten form. "Heyah. Take it. What do I fuckin’ cahe?" Spot had grumbled before he stomped out of the room, followed for the most part by the audience.

Rocks went over and carefully helped his big brother to his feet, keeping silent about the incident. "Don’t tell me you agree wit’ ‘im," Ratface spat upon seeing Rocks’ expression. Rocks dared not to reply. Ratface painfully bent down and picked up the rabbit then, glaring at Rocks, left the room to return to his attic dwelling.

 * * *

 Ratface was confused and very thoughtful the next day. He sat at work in front of a stack of papers, looking at the ceiling while in deep thought. Did he know what he was up against? Was he being a bad father? Did it matter? He did love Zoey, and that, to him, was the important thing.

He jumped of his train of thought as he saw a pair of old fingers snapping loudly in front of his face, making him cross his eyes for a moment before he shook his head into attention. "Huh?"

"I said, ‘Jordan! You in deyah?’ I guess not!" the old man, who was his boss, answered with a chuckle. "You ain’t doin’ da paperwoik I asked ya ta do."

"Sorry," he replied, looking down at the desk. "I’ll get to ‘em."

The old man grinned and pulled up a chair to sit next to him. "What’s on your mind?" he asked.

Ratface looked awkward about the answer and then finally said. "Well… My.. My…" He still couldn’t really believe it even after those past months. "My daughtah." he replied.

Mr. Cunningham’s eyebrows darted up. "Since when’d you ‘ave a daughtah?!" he asked with surprise.

"Since a few months ago…" he answered, then slowly and shyly told him the story of the horribly improbable event that happened to him, ending with a most complicated sentence. "An’ so I still haven’t really told anybody yet."

"Well, why not? Ya shoulda tol’ ‘em right away. Prepares everythin’!" the old man answered.

Ratface squinted with confusion. "Huh? I don’ get it, prepahe what?"

"Well, ya gotta get ‘ah a godfathah and godmothah, for stahters. Youh bruddah would probably like ta know he’s an uncle, Lord knows. And besides, youh boys knowin’ dat she’s youh daughtah would answah deyah questions!" He watched Ratface nod. "An’ ya gotta marry a nice young lady. Why ahe you so choosey, anyhow? Da goyl’s gotta have a muddah."

Ratface continued to nod agreeably. "I know, I know…" He bit his lip. There were lots of things to do all of the sudden.

 * * *

 Ratface put his face in his hands as he told his most recent term events with a miserable breath, rubbing his hair into a kind of disarray. Riffraff listened patiently; not giving a hint of any expressions or reactions to anything, just drank her wine.

"And so, after talkin’ to my boss, I t’aught maybe you could be da Godmothah?" he finally concluded, lifting his eyes to meet with hers.

Pulling a cigarette from a case that sat on a small table next to her chair she said, "Dat was stupid ta even ask." she fussed over the lighting of the smoke. "I ain’t takin’ no responsibility for dat kid. Dat kid is youh problem." She took a drag. "I hate lil’ kids an’ I ain’t precisely the role model to set up for her."

Ratface grunted and starred back at her with a hurtful glare. "I know ya don’ mean dat."

"Yeah I do. It’s youh own irresponsibility you got her pregnant," she replied, still angry at the world since just the last night she had gotten fired from one of her jobs from slapping a customer across the face. It was well known to her about her personality that if she was angry, she didn’t understand why anybody else should be happy.

Ratface muttered, "I ain’t anymohe irresponsible den you. Look at yourself. Youre jus’ a kid an’ your sleepin’ wit’ dat man of youhs you ain’t even thinkin’ about marryin’, I bet."

"An you’he a nineteen-yeah old, unmarried, faddah. Dis is no time to play ‘holier then thou’ wit’ me," she said with careless sarcasm.

"Hey, I am a man, Rathnait Mae McColley. You ahe still jus’ a gihl. Not too smaht, stubbohn, mean, an’ childish." He gave her a demeaning glance. "You’re right. You shouldn’t be a Godmothah. Not to my child nor to anyone elses."

She starred at him a moment then countered, crossing her legs and turning her face away. "Good, ‘cause I don’t want to be, anyway." Seeing that he was looking angry at her still, she added. "You’he crazy. I’d get rid of her to save her, and myself, but you wont! Oh, no! And why? Because Ratface McMichaels wants everythin’ the hahd way ‘cause he’s too stupid, foolish an’ stubbohn ta do anthin’ else. Selfishly dragging everyone else down wit’ ‘im. Typical-all typical. I have no faith in you an’ dis, no mattah how much ya candy-coat it."

She found herself standing in front of where he was standing, not even remembering when either of them moved from their position.

She looked into his face and saw everything he could have said, and it alone proved her last words wrong, and the silence gave her time to think about how wrong she as. This was her only friend-a man that she considered as faultless as Gabriel, yet she was able to insult him so freely.

The fight hit Riffraff in a strange place, for she had lost the argument. She stood in the wrong and she knew it. She glared down at the floor as if she was angry at it.

Ratface had his arms crossed strongly across his chest, starring her down and awaiting for her to admit defeat. He wouldn’t move an inch until he got an apology.

The apology wouldn’t come easily, but it was due. She opened her moth and a few squeakish sounds came from it, but then they formed into real words. "I’m sorry." Knowing that wasn’t enough, she forced herself to continue. "I was wrong. I know you, Rat. An’ I know dat you’re da best man deyah is. Your intentions ahe always good an’ your smaht, so you’ve never done no wrong by me. I mean-I always hoped you’d die befoh me so you could say a few wohds for me up thehe. An’ I can’t say wit’ a strait face dat you ain’t thought about all this a few times, eiddah." She paused and began to defend herself. "But I ain’t no kid, eithah. I ain’t stupid oh-"

"Awe, Renny," he chuckled, drawing her near him into an embrace. "You'he jus’ a kid. Ya still don’t know right from wrong an’ even God hisself sees dat."

She pulled away, a flicker of something in her eyes. "I don’t, do I? Don’t you dahe, Jordan McMichaels, even think for a second that you know me half as good as I know you." With that, she turned and stomped up the stairs, where he could see her disappearing from where he stood, going through a door on the balcony and slamming it loudly behind her.

Once they had a fight when she lived at the firehouse with him. She had slammed the door twice, just to get her point across, but this time she didn’t and even left him with some words to consider.

He didn’t know her very well. When they were children he could talk plenty about himself and the ways of the world while Riffraff would listen and react with the world as it came; not going into depth about it, not giving him any new perspectives, and would just gaze quietly at marvelous things while he ogled over it.

With a sigh, he began to pull himself up the stairwell then crossed the hall until he reached the door she had walked into. He walked in and saw her looking through a trunk that rested on her floor, pulling things our randomly then throwing them on the floor behind her. "Look, what I said back there, I didn’t-"

She spun around at his words and ordered, "Don’t look!"

He shut the door behind him, and then with a confused glance, closed his eyes. A few minutes later he felt a note being rested into his hands. He opened them and looked down.

"Eahly Christmas present," she explained in an upset mutter. "If I’m such a child then how do you reckon I came up wit’ dat? From my own money, nonetheless… Wit’ da help of Daddy’s bloodsucking lawyah, ‘couhse." She found that her hands were resting upon her hips, so she threw them at her sides and looked around for something to busy herself with.

He opened the sheet of paper and read a few lines, then landed on his knees when he fell onto them. "Oh, my God!" He shouted as he read on. "It’s da deed! It’s da…" It was the deed to the old firehouse, which meant he was no longer homeless. He looked up at Riffraff who looked rather pleased with herself and especially her father’s lawyer. "How-no…Why?" he asked.

She let her eyes sparkled playfully at him. "I know dat you were tryin’ ta come up wit’ it for awhile. You’re such a goody-two shoe, go-wit’-da-law kinda pehson," she told him.

"But… Do you have any idea how much dis was?"

She nodded and gave a grin. "Of couhse, I paid for it," she replied, looking at a picture on the wall that was unusually crooked, delighted with finding a fault.

Ratface rushed over, angry with himself for insulting her earlier, and embraced her strongly in an emotional state from the pleasant surprise. He found his mouth so close to her long, swan-like neck and her ear and felt something in him that made him rub his lips across her skin. He changed his position and rested his cheek against her hair, where he inhaled the scent of the auburn colour that smelt like green apples and cinnamon, when he had before thought that she smelt like smoke and whiskey. He weakly let his hands travel down to her waist, which he was nearly able to fit both his large hands around and his fingers dwelled on the feeling of the soft, cotton fabric it was touching.

Trying to control his awkward temptations, he pulled slightly apart and looked down at her face, allowing her to look up at him. Large, hazel eyes starred affectionately back into his, and she bit her lip with newfound apprehension. He couldn’t kiss her, he told himself-she had too many years beneath him. But still, the only movement he made was to get her body closer to his so he could feel the warmth of her bosom pressing against him. He finally decided to take a risk and lowered his lips to hers, where they were immediately accepted with delight. He couldn’t remember if he had ever felt so indubitably about anything, and so he grabbed her waist closer.

Ratface stopped worrying about everything and lived in the moment. He no longer cared about their six-year age difference and the thought that before that moment, he had regarded her as more of a sister than anything else, especially as he felt Riffraff delicately embracing him in return as she kissed.

After a few minutes of passionate movements and velvety-sounding breaths, Ratface picked her up into his arms and carried her over to her bed where he laid her gently as if she was made of glass, looking deeply in her eyes to see if she agreed with what he was doing, making sure that she felt the same way as he did, and she gave all signs that she did. He passionately covered her neck, cheeks, and lips with a flurry of soft, wet kisses that left her skin feeling cold afterwards. They tugged each other’s clothes off eagerly, then he knelt his body over her, letting her legs drape behind him like a warn blanket. He ardently ran his hands down her waist as he leaned into her and watched her eyes flutter with painful bliss, and as the snow began to blow down from the skies outside the window, they began to make love until they both sprawled tiredly within the bed’s sheets.

Riffraff rested her head upon his chest as he playfully undid her upswept hair with one of his hands. He leaned his head to hers and inhaled pleasantly. He chuckled to himself about what had just come to pass as it was so unbelievable, yet the most fantastic thing that had ever happened to him.

They spoke to each other in quiet murmurs for about an hour and made love twice within the time frame, but after the second time Riffraff asked with a tired sigh as she stretched her arms in back of her, "What time is it, Jordan?"

Ratface strained to see his pocket watch that was down on the floor, hanging from his vest pocket. "Half after," he replied.

She quirked an eyebrow and kissed his chest while she chuckled. "Half after what?" She kissed his chest again.

"Five o’clock," he replied after stealing a kiss from her lips with his own.

Her mouth suddenly hung open and she sat up in the bed. "Shahks is comin’ home!" she squeaked as if the thought was painful. "He should be home now if it’s half aftah!"

Ratface lowered his brows with confusion. He trusted the girl completely that she would come to him completely, leaving her lover behind with understanding. "Why’d dat mattah?" he had to ask.

She bit her lip then came up with an excuse. "Well… Jordan, he could kill you, for stahters, and foh seconds he has about ten friends that will also be comin' home to kill you. I mean, he’ll muhdah ya if he finds up heyah like dis!" She paused. "Hell, he’ll muhdah me! Hurry! Leave!"

He took the warning quite literally and slowly sat up and reached down to grab his clothes on. He was struggling with his shirt when he heard a noise from downstairs. She, who was just buttoning her own blouse, rushed to help Ratface with his shirt, dubbing his exit was more important than her own. "Renny, I’m home," came a deep voice from the next room, muffled by her closed door.

Her hands fumbled over the buttons until Ratface took her hands into his own very gently. "When can we meet again?" he asked in a low murmur.

"Hopefully soon," she replied softly, an actual smiling enlightening her face.

He grinned softly in return and bend down and tilted his head as they engulfed yet another ardent kiss.

"What the hell?!" said a stunned voice from the doorway which caused Riffraff and Ratface to pull apart and turn to the side where they saw a dismayed Sharks O’Malley.

"Oh, shit! Run!" Riffraff stammered aloud.

Ratface did just that. He ran right past Sharks, who, at the moment was unable to move until Ratface whirled past him. He turned around and began chasing him through the bar and out the door onto the streets. Ratface could fortunately run faster, but that fact certainly didn’t come out until he crossed the Manhattan Bridge, when Sharks, trying to catch his breath, turned back.

"What the fuck was dat?!" Sharks demanded as soon as he reentered his bedroom, where Riffraff sat stiffly on the bed, wanting to put her head under the pillow, but knowing that if her back’s apparent, hitting it was going to be first on the man’s agenda.

"Nothin’," she replied, trying to sound casual about it. "He’s jus’ an ol’ friend ‘a mine and I was… I was givin’ him an eahly Christmas present."

"Yeah," he spat. "That’s what it looked like." He eyed her over and, shaking with fury, said, "I got a few things to ask you. One, why was he in our bedroom?"

"I wanted… The gift to be a…Surprise?" She bit her lip and lowered her brow, for some reason doing that really didn’t sound like her.

"Right," he said untrustingly, looking at her with disgust. "Second, why is your hair undone? Why is your collah unbuttoned? You tryin’ to look like a whore, or what?! Huh?" He starred at her accusingly.

"I… He came when…" she said after a moment of thought. "I was just commin’ outta the bath, you see…"

"Right," he said in the exact same way as before. Finally he shouted, "WHY WERE YOU KISSING HIM?!"

"Oh! No, no," she chuckled tautly, waving her hands about like it was all a big misunderstanding. "That’s where you’re confused! You see, he was kissing me, not me kissing him. I mean, did you look at him? No, no! He’s not half as handsome as you… And…Or… Nice?" She backtracked to her first lie. "Okay, well, see, I think because my hair was down and my blouse was unbuttoned he just got the wrong idea, that’s all, my deah. You know how men can be... Anyways, after I gave him a small gift, he was so delighted by it, he up and kissed me!" She gave a couple of nervous laughs, then looked to see if her lie would work. "Besides, you can’t expect a woman like me to fend of f such a tall lad as that!"

Sharks seemed to be thinking of what to do. His jaw was set tightly and a glare made his face look cold.

She walked up to him and carefully wrapped her arms around him, seeing that he let her. She kissed his neck and tugged on his earlobe with her teeth. As she watched his expression go into another train of thought, she leapt onto it and steered it in a helpful direction and said softly into his ear, "And you can’t blame us woman, anyway. We’re constantly givin' off the wrong impression…"

Sharks kept looking forward, trigged into anger the way she had planned. "Dat asshole!" he said, and then turned lover and told her sternly, "An’ as for you, I don’ want ya to think ya can jus’ walk around like dat. Not my goyl!" He stepped forward to make her step backward until she hit the bed and fell backwards on it. He, like using something he owned, began to tear open her blouse with a protective sense while grumbling, "Don’t worry-I’ll show ‘im that you’re my gihl. I’ll make it nice and cleah dat if he tries to take advantage of you evah again, he wont have a prick left to do it with."

Riffraff, relieved that his wrath would not be taken out on her, laid back as comfortable as possible as the boy impatiently tugged off her clothing.

 * * *

 Ratface nearly was dancing all the way back home, hypnotized with thoughts of love and happiness. He couldn’t believe that he had known her for so many years and still did not know that she was the one until simply moments before.

Riffraff was not perfect, he knew, but he also know that he himself was not perfect, either. Riffraff was all he wanted for a wife; she was realistic clean, creative, talented, young, and beautiful. Together, he planned; they would leave their childish things behind them and focus on work to earn themselves a real home and bringing up Zoey properly. His mind was full of new, futuristic ideas.

Nothing could have possibly spoiled his day except what was about to happen. He opened up the door to the old fire station, went up the staircase and into the main room then crossed over to a second flight of stairs that led up to the attic. "Zoey!" he called as his feet came up the stairs. "Zoey! Home yet?" He opened the room to the attic. Alas, she was not there.

He immediately turned heal and sped quickly down the stairwell and called out again, "Zoey? Zoey?" He waited a moment to get a reply, but there was none. Promptly, he barged into his brother’s room, who was suppose to be watching her that day but at the moment was trying to take an afternoon nap on his bed. "Where’s Zoey?" Ratface inquired cautiously from his groggy relative.

His brother sat up immediately and snapped into attention at the question. He bit his lips awkwardly and stood up, looking at Ratface sympathetically.

"Charlie… Where is she?" Ratface repeated, looking rather frantic.

Rocks gently put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. "It’s really bettah dat she’s not hehe," Rocks told him. "Not just for us! For you! I mean… You scahed us las’ night, buddy. You jus’ got way too protective ovah dat kid. It ain’t healthy!" Before he finished his sentence, Ratface began to pace around the room angrily and helplessly.

"Where is she?!" Ratface finally shouted, looking like he was ready to kill somebody, particularly Rocks.

"Spot took ‘er back to da orphanage," the boy admitted.

"You let Spot take MY DAUGHTAH to an orphanage?!" Ratface screamed, grabbing onto his brother’s shirt.

Rocks’ body paused. "Huh? You’re what?" His shirt was let go.

"What? I spoke in English! She’s my DAUGHTAH, Rocks!" Ratface replied with a roar.

"But.. But.." he stammered. "How? Since when? Why didn’t you tell us?"

"She’s Celeste Walkah’s kid. We did it an’ den we broke up. She had da kid in the convent before she joined… She… Called her Zoey… The Mother Superior at her ol’ orphanage tol’ me everyt’in’. Nobody told me befohe. An’ I was jus’ waitin’ ta tell you guys! It’s all been really stressful dese past few months, Charlie." He put a hand on his forehead as if to keep his eyes from popping out of his head. "I trust you to watch ‘er and what do ya do? Ya let Spot take ‘er to da orphanage?"

"I... Didn’t know…" Rocks squeaked, overcome with guilt and shame. He frowned at himself then grabbed his jacket from a hook on the wall. "Come on, maybe we can catch ‘im in time if we run," he offered.

Ratface was running out the door before his brother was. They belted down the narrow stairs and out the door where they flew through the streets so fast they would have left a trolley chocking on the cloud of dust they made behind them. Spot being a Protestant didn’t make Ratface think that he was going to take her back to forth street, so he ran towards the orphanage on the east side of Brooklyn.

Ratface saw Spot up ahead and sped up even faster so it didn’t even feel like his feet were touching the ground any longer. Zoey was in tears, obviously knowing where she was going, and was tugging desperately against Spot to get away, but Spot gruffly tugged her along, growling something in her direction. Ratface flew up and jumped, landing on Spot’s back and forcing him to the ground as if he was a panther in attack, yelling "You bastahd!" Spot gave a smothered sound with surprise.

Ratface quickly got to his feet, out of breath, and wrapped his arms lovingly around Zoey, who squealed with surprise and joy.

Spot stayed on the ground for a moment in shock and in deep thought about how kicking Ratface’s ass was actually going to feel good this time. He got up, brushed himself off, looked in Ratface’s direction for a few moments and then prepared to yank the child out of his arms.

Rocks who, while catching his breath, grabbed Spot’s arm and dragged him back to spoil his plan.

Spot spun around, looking at the traitor for what he was. "What da fuck is goin’ on heyah?!" He ordered as if he was out of the loop completely, only the verge to kill.

"Don’t touch him," Rocks panted, clutching his knees with his hand. "She has ta say… She’s Ratface’s…" He paused a moment and made squeaking moments as he stood up into his full height.

"I’ll tell ya back at da house, dis streets too busy," Ratface bud in, not looking too happy with either of them. He then kissed his child on the side of her neck.

Spot gave Ratface the benefit of the doubt like he always did, and trudged along behind him as the little girl showed Ratface how grateful her stuffed bunny was at being rescued and how she knew that Ratface would come. She was then concerned with whether or not she was in trouble. When she was told she wasn’t, of course, she went through many words, which described how Spot should be in trouble.

Ratface walked up the stairs, followed by his friend and brother, and set his daughter on the floor. "Go wash up befoh suppah, Zoey, would ya?"

"Awe," the child whined, but turned around and made her way to the washroom nonetheless.

Spot watched as both of the boys turned towards him as he asked, "Now will ya tell me what da hell’s goin’ on?"

Ratface told him everything. His words were slow and steady, but point-by-point he got across until Spot fully understood and was now sighing, wiping his hand over his brow with frustration. "Why didn’ ya tell me oyliah?" he asked.

Ratface kept his silence and looks down. He was obviously not proud of what he did, and showed it enough so that he didn’t have to answer.

Spot sighed and turned slowly around and shrugged. "Well, den I guess she can stay," he clucked as if his permission mattered in the slightest.

And it did to Ratface, shown by a toothy smile. He clapped his friend on the shoulder and said, "An’ I made you her Godfathah."

Spot turned around and looked at Ratface with his expression showing how flattered her was. "Really? Why?"

Ratface shrugged. "Who else, Spot? You’re my bes’ friend. Like a bruddah ta me."

Rocks broke between them with his mouth opened wide with jealousy. "I am your bruddah!" he cried. "What about me?" He paused and pointed to himself to exaggerate, "An’ Fool likes me bettah!"

Rat looked expressionless in the direction of Rocks. "She’s my daughtah, Rocks, and you’re my bruddah…" He waited to see if Rocks would make the connection on his own, but alas, it never happened. With a sigh, Rat answered, "You’re her uncle."

Rocks paused a moment then smiled. "I am?! That’s great! Weird, but great! Wow! An uncle! Me! Uncle Rocks! Uncle Charlie!" He looked prepared to jump excitedly around the room.

The excitement was broken when the door swung open and Fool scampered in, waving her rag-doll rabbit wildly about.

Ratface turned his head and said with a grin, "Whassa mattah, Princess?"

"Mistah Hoppity’s bweeding!" Fool exclaimed with a cry, showing how stuffing was coming out of the rabbit’s arm. "Can ya fix it?"

"I can," Spot and Rocks said at the same time. They drew back, looked at each other, and reached for the rabbit, however, Rocks pulled it away a second before Spot. "You can’t sew anyways, Conlon," replied Rocks as he left the room in triumph.

Ratface picked up his daughter and hugged her, then turned to Spot. "I have ta talk to ya aftah dinnah," he said, looking a bit more solemn. "It’s about Riffraff…"

 * * *

 Riffraff took extreme care to not get caught with Ratface. She couldn’t really choose between them yet-they both had their qualities. Ratface was cool and logical. Sharks was enthusiastic and brilliant.

She was beginning to grew weary from her position because she had feeling the the priest that heard ger weekly confession was filling tin the nun’s need for gossip, and they gave her several crude looks and sneers as they walked by her.

Riffraff giddily told Ratface of her latest adventure. "And so, Shahks asked me what he should do to ‘im." She grinned a cheshire-cat smile. "So I had ‘em kock da kid ovah da head wit’ a woodan board. I know it ain’t much, but I tell ya, it gave me a thrill!"

Ratface gave her a stern look. "I don’ undahstand dat Shahks fellah, Riff." He glared at nothing for a second and then said, "I don’t want you to be around him anymo’."

He looked at her expression-an expression that only meant to argue, and that made Ratface jealous beyond belief. He didn’t know that Riffraff would like to him about sharing a bed with Sharks, which she assured that she hadn’t done since she and Ratface first joined.

You can’t play both of us, Rathnait," he warned her, walking through the light snow flurries. He embraced her as they came to stand underneath a large oak tree in the middle of Central Park. "But don’t choose him."

"I’ll choose you, Jordan," she said lightly, avoiding her guilt and acting as if the conversation was just like all their others.

She couldn’t help seeing Sharks., He was forbiddan fruit that she couldn’t help picking., The nights were cold I, and Sharks and her would embrace through the night as the snow blew down in strong gusts of wind just outside their window.

In the mournings or late at night (when she wasn’t at work) she would make Sharks, her cousin, Blue Jay, and the rest of the boys steaming coffees with some milk and strong liquors in it, guaranteed to warm them up and when Sharks drank even the smallest amount of alcohol he would end the night’s socialization by rushing her up to bed with him.

It Jordan "Ratface" McMicheals in the day, and Dameon "Sharks" O’Malley at night, and Riffraff had never been happier.

As she buried her cold face into Ratface’s warm chest, he took the opportunity to smell the sweet scent of her hair and said, "The time’s commin’ soon." He looked down and kissed her lightly on the lips before he continues. "I’m plannin’ on movin’ upstate, if you’ll come wit’ me…. You said youh faddah jus’ quitten his bookkeepah, so maybe I can take up the jo."

Riffraff looked up with a confused expression. She remained silent.

"We could go up deyah wit’ Zoey and settle down," he put in with a nervous grin. "We could get a great big ol’ house to raise Zoey up in, and maybe another if luck prevails. We’d put a big piana in da livin’ room an’ leave all dis behind us." He gently put a finger under Riffraff’s chin, tilting it upwards at him. He then put his hand to his pocket, where he pulled out a bit of silver, which she quickly remembered him showing to her after his mother died. It was his mother’s ring. "Marry me, Renny," he implored so sincerely it nearly made her fall backwards.

She broke away from his embrace, unsure of what to do or say.

He let her deal with the shock then softened his eyes. "I know you’he a bit young, but I love you, Renny. I reallydo. An’ you love me too, don’t ya?"

Riffraff gave a sigh and looked up at him to search for faults or ome reason to say y no to him, but she couldn’t find any. Yes, it was love, she she decided. There wasn’t a thing about Jordan she didn’t like. She came close to him again and, getting on her tipetoes to do it, hugged his neck. "Of couhse I love ya, Jordey." She grinned and nodded. "Le’s do it. The whole plan. Le’s get married."

Ratface’s eyes looked as if he was never happier, quickly put the ring about her thin finger and glove, then wrapped his arms tightly around her and kissed her mouth deeply. "Le’s do it, then. A week from now. We’ll pick up da train tickets, go upstate an’ find a place. Ahe ya wit’ me?"

She bit her lip. "It’s a bit fast, don’t ya think?" she answered unsurely.

"Well, dat’s da way dese t’ings ahe done," Ratface explained. "Da fastah, da bettah." He especially wanted her to get away from Sharks as soon as possible and that much was clear.

"She nodded her head. "I’m wit’ you, den, Jordy," she replied.

He kissed her neck and then took her hand, encrusted with his family heirloom "Good, den le’s get gone. It’s cold out hehe." He grinned and wrapped his arm around her waist, and then he and his future bride walked down a snowy path, the stars beginning to twinkle in the setting sky above them.

 * * *

 Sharks’ body sweated over hers, his quick, skillful movements causing her eyes to stay closed. Tomorrow she was to meet Ratface, and so this was probably going to be the last time Sharks and her were to join. Just knowing that gave her a high and a reason to go on with her present sin.

She couldn’t wait to see the joyous expressions on her mother and father’s face when she told them that she was Ratface’s fiancée, and how her mother was probably going to make her an extravagant wedding dress, as it was her mother’s gift to make beautiful clothes. Zoey wasn’t going to be a problem at all. She had met the kid before, and beside the fact that the child was obviously a bit stupid, she was delightful, and Riffraff normally hated children with a vengeance.

She felt a painful yet delightful sensation in her loins from a powerful thrust and murmured through her lips, "Oh, Jordan!"

Unfortunately, that wasn’t Sharks’ name. His movements stopped and he starred down at the girl who was now pail-faced, her eyes wide open. "What?!" Sharks growled, his mind connecting what mistake Riffraff had made. "Who’s Jordan?"

"I... I… Don’t know. It jus’ came out," she lied right through her teeth. Her eyes fluttered a bit nervously.

"Don’t lie to me," he snapped. He knew when Riffraff lied, as well as he should since he had known her for nearly a full year now. "It’s dat guy, Ratface, isn’t it? Dat guy I saw you kissin’ a few months ago?" He paused and hissed, "You fucked him?"

She began stuttering. She did that when she lied-she either stuttered or repeated things an awful lot. "I…I… I did not! I…I would never!"

He got out of bed and began to tug his clothes on. "I’ll kill him," he muttered through his teeth.

"You wouldn’t," she gasped.

He would.

"Don’t!" She ordered with a snap. "I love him!" She blushed as the shame of what she did fell upon her like a wet blanket.

There was a considerate pause as Sharks choked down the information before he started tying his boots. He couldn’t believe that. "An’ you’ll love me too jus’ as soon as I get him out of the way." He dodged a fist coming at his head and as fast as a bullet he flung her body onto the bedpost, shaking the walls. He struggled her onto her back, his anger giving him the strength she thought he never had. He pinned her arms down and tied her hands to the four-post bed then hid her body away from the world and the cold by putting their heaviest blanket over her body.

She struggled against them but found it hopeless for everybody finds consequences from eating forbidden fruit. She heard the door slam and then a click of the lock from the outside. After that, all she had to listen to was her own mind and attempt to bite the bindings loose.

 ~ ~ ~

 "Whehe is he, Conlon?" spat Sharks, approaching Spot Conlon at his usual "beat".

"Whehe’s who?!" Spot snapped back, glaring at his opponent. "Whehe da hell do you t’ink you ahe? You lost?"

"Shut up, Conlon," Sharks ordered. "Tell me whehe Ratface is! Da fuckin’ bastahd. He fucked my gihlfriend!"

Spot knew how he felt. "Ah, dat goyl of yours would spread her legs to all a’ New York if deyah was enough hours in da day!"

Sharks, who was vengeful and without any humour, attacked with his eyes flashing like fire. Rocks ran down from his beat, which was a block away, where he saw the conflict begin, so did a few others. Rocks watched with interest until he saw the flash of what could only be a knife. He focused in, and saw Spot Conlon struggling against the weapon with all of his strength. Rocks turned his head from side to side, looking for somebody to do something, because he was deathly afraid of knives.

"Come on, Princess," Ratface ordered with a friendly smile as he took his child by the hand to stop her from running off in the same direction that a crowd of children all ran, which was to a nearby toy shop. "There’s a lot to do by tomarrah."

The child sighed and walked quickly along his side. She looked to the side down the street and saw before the beginning of the Brooklyn Bridge She pointed toward a grouping of boys and saw Spot’s head for a moment, then heard a loud swearword, which made her sure it was Spot. "Look, Daddy! It’s Uncle Spot!" she cried excitedly.

His head turned about quickly and saw what Zoey was seeing, but Zoey didn’t have the quickest eyes; Rocks had spotted them first and was already running up to Ratface, shouting, "Sharks found out an’ he’s fightin’ Spot! Hurry! He’s not a knife!" he cried as he approached.

Ratface’s eyes widened and he nodded to his brother, who waited impatiently for Ratface. Ratface turned to Zoey, panicking a bit yet instinctively worrying about her safety, made her grab onto a horse hook that was about a foot away. "I want you to stay right deyah, okay?"

The child nodded.

"Don’t move from deyah until I come back."

The child nodded more.

"Not a foot."

The child nodded thrice.

Ratface finally turned around, nodded to his brother, said, "Let’s go," and then ran towards the fight.

Ratface hustled over to where the trouble was, his heart pounding since he heard the awful word "knife" in the same sentence as the name of his best friend.

Where he came upon the scene, Spot and Sharks were rolling about by the side of a busy street, each trying to hold the knife away from each other’s neck, hissing out God-awful swears and curses towards each other.

Ratface looked towards his brother who looked too helpless to think and so was awaiting orders. "Hold him!" Ratface shouted, and they darted out into the fight. Rocks used all of his strength to hold. Sharks back and Ratface ripped the knife away from both their hands and snapped the switchblade into place then placed it away into his pocket. Spot tried to strike Sharks, who was now trying to pound his fists at Rocks, who tried to shield himself with his arms, but Spot was help back by Ratface and so instead they both jumped at Sharks and pinned him down onto the ground. It took the help of all three of them.

"What’s youh problem?" Ratface yelled at his arch nemesis through gritted teeth as he tried to keep his hold on the raging boy.

"You’he fuckin’ my gihlfriend!" Sharks retorted with a hiss. "That’s what my problem is!"

Ratface’s body froze for a moment and looked around. He was pleased to discover that the only people that heard such an improper truth were a few strangers he didn’t care for and the people that he already told.

"Well, now ya know how it feels!" Spot retorted coldly, holding Sharks’ arms down to avoid getting punched in the face.

Sharks gave Spot a thoughtful look after that, then decided to go on trying to attack Ratface. "We was perfectly happy ‘fore you came along! You asshole! You lousy bum! Ya bloody bastahed!" Sharks felt bad that he didn’t punch Ratface harder after he went after him the day after he caught Ratface and Riffraff kissing up in his bedroom.

"I’m sorry, Sharks," Rat replied sincerely, feeling the utmost sympathy for the guy. "But I love ‘er, too." He paused and gave a grin to herself. "An’ she loves me back. She shoulda’ told ya soonah."

"Tol’ me? I found ou-" Sharks tried to correct, but was cut short because Ratface had just turned his head and noticed that his daughter had moved and was standing in the middle of a trolley track surrounded by a crowd quickly flowing around her.

"Zoey, move!" Ratface shouted at the top of his lungs.

A trolley was quickly coming forth, dinging a bell at the crowed, trying to move move past the mast quickly. Zoey, however, was oblivious to the trolley and was trying to free her rag-doll rabbit from the trolley tracks, where it was stuck.

"Daddy! Mistah Hoppity’s stuck! Help Mistah Hoppity!" the child whined faintly over the mumbles of the Brooklyn crowd.

"Zoey!" Move! Now!" he had gtten off of Shakrs and was running quickly towards his child.

"Daddy-he’s stuck!" the child cried simply. The trollet was coming close now, not that Zoey saw it, and the last of the crowed moved out of the way.

Ratface noticed that he might not get there in time, but he ran as fast as he could. Oh, why had he left her alone? He asked himself the question over and over again in his head. "Zoey, MOVE! Please!" he screamed.

At that moment the trolley driver slammed on the breaks, just noticing the small thing in it’s way, but it couldn’t possibly sop in time.

Zoey looked up and saw the large, mechanical beast and gave a shrilling scream and hid her face behind her rabbit, which ironically had just become unstuck She squinted her eyes as if that could shield her from the blow.

But she didn’t feel the train hitting her -she felt the ground. She heard the screeching of breaks loudly behind her as well as the shrieking of Rocks’ and Spot’s feet coming to the tracks behind her.

She held her rabbit close to her and turned around, only to gasp loudly in horror. "Daddy!" she finally cried quietly as she found some of her voice through a painful throat. She crawled over to the limp figure behind her, who had been hit by the massive thing in her stead.

Spot leaned over the dying boy who was sputtering out words that no one could understand. Blood was flowing into his lungs and he was drowning to death. "No, no… Don’t talk, Buddy. Don’t talk. We’re gonna get you some help. You’he gonna be okay. Jus’ relax." The trolley driver was running for a police officer or a docter already.

Rat sputtered something else and looked frantically around for Zoey. She came forward next to Spot, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Oh, Daddy, why?" She creied as if she was being punished. "Daddy… Daddy, don’t die!" she pleaded desperately, seeing the matter’s reality for what it was. "You caon’t I love you! Don’ die, Daddy." Her lips quivered and her voice broke into sobs.

Ratface help up a shaking arm and put it on Zoey’s cheek, rubbing away her tears for the last time. "Don’t cry, honey," were words outlined by his lips, but he couldn’t make a singly sound.

He looked at Rocks, his little brother, and gave him a look that explained his mortal stance. Rocks couldn’t stand it. "No! Jordan! Don’ die on me. Please don’ die on me, bro."

Ratface passed Rocks a look of pity and helpless remorse, then turned to Spot and passed him a worried look.

Spot bit his lip and nodded. Ratface looked like he was in so much pain. "Don’ worry, Rat. We’ll be okay. Zoey will be okay. Don’t worry." He patted his friend on the hand with another nod of his head. "You can go. Everything will be okay." Spot tried to give Ratface a comforting smile.

Ratface’s eyes softened with relief and thankfulness. He looked up at his best friend one last time and exhaled the rest of his last breath.

"Good bye, Rat," Spot bade quietly as his best friend closed his eyes.

Then Jordan McMichael’s pain was over, and he was gone forever.

Sharks O’Malley looked upon the scene with a dry mouth and a heavy heart, then went to embrace the love that he still had and to tell her the news.

 * * *

 That night everyone chose to flop around with their misery alone and quietly. Everybody seemed to enjoy this time to think about the past events and to mourn their good friend’s death.

But Zoey was still just a child and could not mourn in the same way as the boys downstairs. She laid in Ratface’s bed with her rag-doll rabbit and cried crocodile tears into his old pillow, but afterwards she just wanted to be held and sympathized with. She missed having her father wrap his strong arms around her and would rock her back and forth to soothe her when needed, calling her his "Princess" and kissing her on the forehead. He would then read her a story which she didn’t understand a word of and would fall asleep tp but would still wake up in her own bed with Mr. Hoppity positioned carefully in her arms.

She needed someone to give her attention if only to make her feel normal inspite of everything, so she went down the old, rickety stairs into the main bunkroom below where a fire was lit in the fireplace and a full room of boys quietly looked into it.

She considered the silence for a moment, and when she spoke, it seemed louder than it really was. "Uncle Rocks?" she said, rubbing her toe onto the ground awkwardly as she broke the silence. Rocks stayed in his chair, unmoving. "Uncle Rocks?" she repeated, but got no answer. Rocks was ignoring her purposely.

She turned to Spot, standing pigeon-toed with nervousness. "S-Spot? Will you… Uhm… Read… A-uhm…" She gulped and lowered her voice to a whisper. "me a book?"

Spots head slowly turned to his side and let his angry steel-coloured eyes peer upon Zoey. Unable to control his anger, he stood up as he hissed, "You moved! He tol’ ya not to, but you moved." Rocks had obviously told everyone what Ratface’s last real words to his daughter were. "It’s all youh fault, you little wench!"

Her eyes quickly began to water, then she looked at the ground and began to sob pitifully from the power of his words.

He couldn’t stand her pathetic sounds and so he picked her up and rudely began to shake her. "Stop cryin’! Ya lil’ brat! Stop cryin’ now!"

The shaking startled her and, blinded by tears, her hand darted out wildly and slapped Spot on the nose. She was instantly dropped back onto the floor where she tried to scamper off and hide, but didn’t make it but a few steps before she was grabbed by the arm and dragged back the few steps of distance she had traveled.

Spot looked vengeful as he dragged the pleading child into him room that was oh-so close to where he was first standing. "You’ve had dis commin’ fer a long time!" he growled, yanking the struggling child into the room and slamming it behind him

In another moment, the main room was filled with heavy, yet muffled, cracks of a belt followed by a child’s shrilling screams, cries, and begs. The boys all just stared down at the ground grudgingly, then after they watched Spot come triumphantly out of his bedroom, looping his belt back through his loops, they returned unto sleep, one by one.

Spot and Rocks stayed awake until Rocks finally starred at his best friend and said with a heavy sigh, "She’s only a kid."

Spot nodded with an expressionless face. "I know, an’ dat’s why I’m lettin’ ‘er stay. Now dat Rat’s dead, we’re stuck wit’ da responsibility, ya know?" He took a cigar from his pocket and lit it.

"I know, but… She didn’ mean..."

Letting out a large puff of smoke, he continued as if Rocks didn’t interrupt him at all. "Da responsibility to clothe ‘er, feed ‘er, keep a roof ovah ‘er ‘ead, while we ain’t bahely got any money ta do dat fer ouhselves. So, if she does somthin’ wrong-she gets punished. All right? Le’s agree on dat, Rocks, ‘cause it ain’t faih ta me ta be da bad guy all da time."

Rocks bit his lip a bit. "I don’ know if dat’s what Rat would wanted… But… You’re right, I guess…" He suddenly shook his head. "Naw, Spot. I don’ have da heart. Neidah did Rat."

Spot shrugged simply. "Rat was very weak about it. He thought she could do no wrong. I ain’t gonna worry about you none, though, ‘cause you’ll change youh mind jus’ as soon as she stahts drillin’ holes in youh flooh wit’ a switchblade," he predicted wisely.

There was a loud silence that lasted awhile.

"She had Rat’s eyes, Rocks!" Spot finally said with a shiver as it had been on his mind all night. "Exactly like ‘em! She took a lot off a’ him, but when I was getting’ my belt off, she gave me dat look, ya know? Da look Rat would give whenevah he wasn’t happy wit’ somethin’? Fer a second I t’aught I was looking right at ‘im."

Rocks stood up to go to his room and patted Spot on his shoulder with a sad energy. "G’night, Spot."

"G’night," he returned then went back to his cigar and took another big puff.

As his head began to disappear into a big cloud of smoke, he heard the floorboards SQUEAK behind him. He turned his head and saw a pair of wide, familiar eyes looking back at him.

"Uhm… Uh… Spot?" a quite voice began shyly.

"Yeah?" he responded, talking rather gently compared to his usual self.

"Is… Is it weally my fawlt?" the voice asked meekly.

Spot let out a heavy sigh. "C’mere," he said, motioning her forth with his index finger.

The little orphan came forward with extreme caution and was picked up under her arms then gently set onto Spot’s lap where she gave a small wince at the painful landing.

He put a comforting arm around her. "I should ‘a nevah said it was youh fault. It wasn’t. It was everybody’s."

Zoey looked up at him. "So awe ‘oo mad at me?" she asked in her unproduced child’s voice.

Spot shook his head. "No, not anymohe."

She gave a relieved look, but then put in, "I’m sowwy I moved… I didn’ mean ta! Mistah Hoppity-"

"Ya see, Fool," he began with a grin. "Sometimes we gotta take responsibility foh what ouh kids do-including your rabbit."

Fool nodded sadly. "I know," she sniffed, even though she didn’t know at all previously. She rested her head against him tiredly and asked. "Spot? Awe you sad?" She thought it was impossible for Spot to be sad about anything. He seemed invincible.

Spot nodded. "Ob cohse I’m sad.. Saddah den I evah was befoh… But it’ll pass." He grinned as she quickly began to dose off. "It’ll pass."

 * * *

 The funeral was the saddest event of all. It lasted two days and just about everyone that had ever heard of Jordan "Ratface" McMichaels came with their hats tipped, even though it was held mostly outside and it was a the last snowy day of the year.

One by one people would come and pay their last respects, but when Riffraff McColley came (who, as the girlfriend of Sharks O’Malley, she was getting to be quite popular), it was a surprise, especially as she played the piano all through the wake, not talking to a single soul except to Spot when he came near. "Now maybe you’ll move up in da wohld, Spot. Ya can do wild an’ crazy t’ings wit’ out anyone holdin’ ya back," she said, forcing herself to be humorous. She even passed him a wink.

Spot knew that pretending not to be bothered was how she chose to morn, and gave her his own sympathies. "He loved you, Riffraff," he assured her in a quiet voice.

She looked up, passing Spot a bit of a smile, and said, "I know. Ya always knew whehe ya stood wit’ Johdan." And she left it at that. And when the priest asked if anybody wanted to share a few words, Riffraff raised herself from where she sat alone and presented herself before the crowed. "This was my best friend, mentor… And everythin’ else that is deah to me," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I can’t mourn for ‘im, ‘cause if ya ask me, Johdan has mo’ chance of goin’ ta heaven den da Pope." She smiled sadly to herself. "But I wont say he left us completely. He was all-good in my eyes, an’ he even lef’ some a’ dat goodness in me, jus’ like everybody else he knew and touched. He was unmistakably a good man. Let him rest in peace." And with that, she put a single crimson rose upon the coffin, touched the exposed face of her dead lover gently, then walked off into the falling snow as she twisted her fingers sadly over the ring on her right hand, never to see him again.

 * * *

 Spot sighed. It was a hot summer day, and the splashing sounds his boys were making around him while they jumped into the Hudson River were becoming repetitive. He was also angry that Zoey was with Riffraff McColley today and not with him, where he and Rocks could have used to for an excuse to by some ice cream. He didn’t even like Riffraff spending anytime at all with Zoey, even though Riffraff was claiming to teach her the piano. Every time he went to pick her up he would see that Riffraff had taken the opportunity to dress Fool up like a doll, looking nearly like a small Riffraff. Spot would make Fool change right away, of course--kid hated looking like that anyway. The last thing he needed was a replica of Riffraff McColley running around his (since Ratface had left it to him) place.

However it was turing out to be a good thing he didn’t have to worry about Fool today. He had enough to worry about. He had been hearing of news of somesort of newsboy strike from some boys in Harlem, Queens, and some other boroughs and neighborhoods, and it must have been somewhat true because looked like he was on his way to see him. He hadn’t seen Jack since Ratface’s funeral that winter, but wasn’t glad to see him about anti-business.

"Well, if it ain’t Jack be nimble, Jack be quick," Spot teased haughtily as Jack, what looked like Boots from Manhattan, and some other boy Spot hadn’t met before.

Jack caught sight of Spot as he and his boys walked through the piers. "Hey, Spot. Heard you’ve moved up in da woyld." He looked around. "Got a rivah view an’ everythin’?" Jack teased in return.

He rolled his eyes and stepped down from the pier he sat on, putting his cane in his belt loop. Jack must have been talking to Riffraff McColley lately, and her prediction was true. Since Ratface’s death, Spot had moved up in the world, taking his place and taking risks, and because of that he was made into the most well known newsboy and gang leader-a title he held with pride and he walked about as if he was the king of the world, since now no one had any strong influence over his ideas.

He had thought about Ratface frequently and paid his respects as constantly as he could. Ratface was a fool, but he was fortune’s fool, and as Riffraff McColley said-a little good from Ratface will go a long way.