Bowery Girl Read Online Free PDF Page A

spades.”
    Seamus lit a cigarette, and then cuffed Hugh on the head.
    â€œWhat the hell was that for?” Hugh’s voice cracked; he was just that age. He picked his derby up off the sticky wood floor and jammed it on his head.
    â€œGo get us another pail of beer,” Seamus said.
    â€œBut I won.”
    â€œBut I’m thirsty, see? It was the queen of hearts, dummy.” Seamus rolled his lip in a sneer. “You need a little more practice. And your jacket’s hurting my eyes.” He glanced at Tommy for approval.
    â€œI won,” Hugh whined. “You lost. It was the three of spades. Mollie, it was the three of spades, right? Seamus is conning me.”
    Poor Hugh. It was a good trick; Mollie knew it herself and used to play it with the newsboys in the alley. “Try it again,” she said to him.
    â€œForget it, I’m bored,” Seamus said. “Go get the beer.”
    â€œYou get it.”
    Seamus smiled, then flicked open a switchblade. He jabbed it into the table, piercing the card.
    Hugh glared at Seamus. “You don’t scare me. I’m saying you don’t scare me. No matter how hard you try, you’ll never scare me, Seamus Feeney.”
    â€œGo get the beer,” Seamus said.
    â€œNo.”
    Seamus threw his cigarette in the floor, stood, and bent close into Hugh’s face. “Oh, yeah?”
    â€œYeah.”
    Hugh flinched as Seamus grabbed him around the collar and twisted his shirt up tight. “Get the beer.”
    â€œYou get it!” Hugh’s breath spluttered, and his face turned a purplish red.
    With his free hand, Seamus pulled Hugh’s ear. Hugh’s arms flailed around and his feet could not find the ground.
    â€œAll right! All right.”
    Letting go, Seamus watched Hugh fall in a heap on the floor. Hugh coughed and spat. He wiped at his ear with the rag he kept as a handkerchief. He snaked out a hand and yanked Seamus’s knife from the table.
    Seamus held out his hand. The knife was still open; Hugh knew it and Seamus knew it. The thin blade shook in Hugh’s grasp. He stared at Seamus’s spread hand, taking in the nicotine yellow between his first and middle fingers, the calluses across the top of his palm, the soft skin below.
    Seamus did not blink and did not move. He felt Hugh’s eyes and he knew Hugh wanted to cut him.
    The girls on the stage twirled in circles; the yellow of their silk petticoats set the men in the dancehall to cheering.
    â€œGive him the knife, you bastard,” Tommy said.
    Hugh folded the blade into its sheath and gave the knife over. Seamus raised a hand at him, and then sat back down.
    â€œGet us some beer,” Tommy said.
    â€œBut—”
    All Tommy McCormack had to do was rise slightly from his seat, and Hugh grabbed the empty pail and scuttled away.
    Seamus shook his head and laughed. “Little bastard, thinks he can . . .” His voice lost energy under Tommy’s angelically cold stare. He swallowed hard.
    â€œWas it the three of spades?” Tommy asked.
    â€œWho cares what it was?”
    â€œThere’s enough people to cheat without cheating your friends.” Tommy glanced toward the bar, which curved like a horseshoe between the front doors. “Calhoun’s here.”
    Seamus looked. “What’s he doing here?”
    â€œFuck,” Tommy said. “His boys are at each door.”
    Heavy feet thumped toward them. “Sorry I’m late. It was my sister’s birthday. Ma had cake.” Mugs Dennehy was huge, with a flattened nose and a box head that sported a hat a size too tight. “So what’s with the Rum Runners paying a visit?”
    Tommy slipped his knife back up his sleeve. “Goddamn Calhoun wants the saloon.”
    â€œWell, he’s not gonna get it. He ain’t getting anything on this block,” Seamus said.
    Tommy narrowed his eyes. He let go of Annabelle.
    â€œNot tonight. I only