Thick As Blood

Luciano hadn’t tried to touch Cecelia again since she’d been here. He had left her a black eye, while she had been sure to leave her mark on his handsome face. Luciano had always had a thing for Cecelia, as apparently he did for all the Darmody girls. He seemed to almost take pleasure in dragging her through the hotel so she could practice her new routine. His fingers left faint bruises as he kept her close. His irritation with her since the other night had left him more than unhappy. He almost wanted to see her suffer now that she couldn't do anything about leaving - she was no where near leaving, nor being rescued.

From a distance, Luciano kept a watchful eye while he leaned against a large beam on her old stage smoking a cigarette while she was sitting, listening.

Cecelia sat in a wooden chair dressed in a heavy outfit that glittered like diamonds. She was practicing her new routine, one that Rothstein had quite a bit of input on. And input that implied that her sparkly outfit would be littered on the stage once it was over. Something she rarely did even before, but was now a part of her nightly act. She wasn’t an entertainer anymore; this was whore-like behavior.

Her relationship with Rothstein was still somewhat hostile, and her relationship with Luciano, awkward. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much she missed Richard, or she would start to cry.

Her first nights here she had cursed Jimmy Darmody for selling her out to New York’s richest gangster. She hadn’t done that much to her own brother, but apparently their blood did not run thicker than water. She eventually blamed Gillian for rising letting two siblings grow up poorly and separately. Cecelia had wanted to forgive her, but for some reason she knew she’d never be able to.

Now Cecelia was here, sick all the time.

The bad stopped, someone’s instrument was out of tune, Cecelia just sat there, and if you saw her face, it was read pure pain.

“You ain’t gonna win the hearts of hundreds with a face like that.” Charlie told her.

“Well fuck you Charlie.” She said.

“You gotta mouth, just like yer mother.” Charlie said, “She was just as sweet as you.”

“You’re a sick pig.” Cecelia spat back, she got up and made her way around him even though he tried to stop her. She had to untie the back of her dress, she was sick, and she couldn’t breathe.

Luciano had watched her deteriorate since the moment she got here, she put on a smiling face for the show and as soon as if was over she was back to this. She was obviously upset about something, and what exactly, no one was really sure.
________________________________________

Richard’s had been staring at his poorly papered ceiling for over an hour now. He had been losing sleep it seemed. Falling asleep usually meant dreaming about Cecelia. Sometimes they would be nice, her next to him, usually naked stroking his chest with her finger nails, others she would get up and leave. But he always seemed to find that his heart ached more each time he thought about her, so he had grown accustomed to not sleeping.

Richard stood up unable to shake the empty feeling that had been beside him in that bed. He drew a hot bath, and while he sat there, his one eye kept drawing towards his rifle. Too many times before Cecelia had he dreamt of putting it between his teeth. The same thought had crossed his mind again, but he quickly decided that it might be better used between someone else’s. Jimmy had left him along for this past week, letting him cope and adjust – but now Richard needed something to do, someone to do in.

What Jimmy had said kept relaying in his mind, Jimmy had been eager to teach her a lesson. Richard was still instinctively protecting her, despite her betrayal – perhaps he was never really going to stop loving her.

She had treated him so warmly, and for a short while, made him immensely happy. He wanted to try and not dwell on it being over, rather than it had happened to someone like him. Yet the feelings she’d left on his sleeve were a little harder to shake off.

He dressed in a lazily fashion. Usual brown suit, it fit him best, a blue shirt with yellow strips and a red tie. He was slightly unaware of what he was really doing. He was dressing to leave, not exactly sure what to expect once he did.

Jimmy was slightly surprised when Richard knocked on his door. Although his face looked tired behind his mask, Jimmy treated him no differently.

“Rich. Long time no see.” Jimmy said.

“I figured you had some work. Mm. Something I could do?” Richard asked.

“I’m going to Philly today, you can drive me.” Jimmy said.

“When do we leave? Richard asked.

“After breakfast.” Jimmy said.

Richard spent the rest of the day in Jimmy’s shadow, protecting him, following him, obeying him. By the end of the day they were still in Philly, drinking, it didn’t look like they were going to make it home than night. With a drunken stumble they were barely able to make it to a hotel. Richard felt better with Jimmy, he felt somewhat whole this way. That plus the warming alcohol in his belly made him feel slightly better about missing Cecelia. But even then his mind still dreamt about her once he was finally asleep.

He woke up before Jimmy, with an incredible thundering in his head and a sickness in his belly. Not only had the alcohol had a negative effect on him, but so did his dreams – like every night he slept. Last night he had slipped away unaware of what was in store for him, he wished he’d been sober, then he could’ve stayed awake.

His dreams with drift from the war to Atlantic City, but he would find Cecelia in either of them. Whether it was her beside him while he had been laying bleeding after that shrapnel had hit his face or beside him in a soft bed where they were safe.

His mind never seemed to let him escape. It was always there nagging him, never letting him have a moment of peace. All the torment for the war was enough on his shoulders, but now the turmoil of a broken heart had become to much – and his rifle once again sounded good between his teeth.
_________________________________________________

Cecelia too struggled from day to day life. Not only was she expected to pretend like everything was fine, they also expected her to hide her bruises. When she was left alone she wasn’t allowed to go very far because they would shackle her ankle to a nearby heater and any attempt at getting free caused an obscene amount of noise. Other than that, Luciano or Lansky would have the lovely privilege of taking her about the hotel to parties or performances where she did not have a choice in the matter of what she did.

She had spent time wondering why Richard hadn’t bothered to try to see her or find her. But these men were mobsters, they got in deep with smugglers, killers, gamblers, and she had to remind herself that Richard wasn’t any different. He probably thought she was happy here, or respected that she ‘belonged’ to Rothstein. But she still had hoped he would've tried.

She also prayed that he wasn’t hurt. She actually hoped that he believed she was happy over thinking he was hurt. He was so fragile, and to her, he was everything – she couldn’t bare to see him broken.

Cecelia had begun to think that running wouldn’t be as stupid as she thought. She knew that her father was the most distasteful company she would ever come across. But letting Rothstein scare her with him was something she had started to ignore. If Richard still cared for her like she thought he did, she could run right into his arms and Richard would protect her.

But this thinking was all before Cecelia’s illness had taken a turn for the worst.

She could no longer stand the smell of Charlie’s cigarettes, Lansky’s bourbon, or even her own perfume. Rothstein had a doctor promptly visit and diagnose her pregnancy within the hour. To which Rothstein was angered by.

She had kept her skirt so tight nit to be sure not to let anyone near it, but hearing that she had for someone, made not only Rothstein mad, but Charlie as well. That night had occurred so quickly only flashed still resided in Cecelia’s mind.

She remembered being called a whore, a damn cat, cheap, ignorant and several other very distasteful words. But the one comment she only truly cared about was:

“Get rid of it!” Rothstein said, “She can’t perform!”

“Well doc, can you do that?” Charlie asked.

“Of course, not without the proper tools, but it can be done.” The doctor said.

That was when Cecelia dropped to her knees and began to beg.

“Please! NO!” she screamed, she knew that she must look like an unpleasant mess with tears covering her face, pale and ill. “Don’t take it from me!” she begged.

“You seemed to have lost a bit of your integrity in Atlantic City, I was a fool to let you stay so long.” Rothstein said, seething.

“Who’s to say we gotta’ listen to come whore about what she wants?” Charlie said.

“I’m not a whore!” she cried, “please don’t do this, I won’t fight you anymore, I won’t!”

“And all that money I lose waiting for you to have some bastard child?”

“I’d pay you! I’d earn every cent I cost you, but please do not do this!” Cecelia cried even harder.

“Do you have any idea what you make me now? A new show, same pretty face?”

“I’d earn every scent of it back.” She said while swallowing hard, “I’ll do anything you want. Please!”

There was a long strenuous pause through out the room. Rothstein softened his gaze, “You won’t fight, you’ll work, give me everything?” Rothstein asked.

“Yes, every bit of it!” she said.

“Then perhaps a bargain can be arranged.” Arnold said. He motioned for the three men to follow him, leaving Cecelia behind, ending their conversation.

Luciano gave Arnold a look like he was crazy, like it was a bad bet.

But Arnold already knew it was.

“Charlie, indulge her fantasy of being some sort of mother.” Arnold said, “Doc, in a few weeks time we’ll need your services again, although you’ll need to bring the right tools.”

“Yes sir,” was the Doctor’s response.

“So we ain’t letting her… you know have the thing?” Charlie asked awkwardly.

“Of course not Charlie let’s not be dumb now.”

“Who’s to say she won’t get worse when we… ya know?” Charlie asked.

“You kill the dream, you break her spirit Charlie. She’s afraid of you, afraid of me, all of us. That’s why she’s still here.”

“So you think she’ll just go back to normal, dancin’ at night?”

“She’ll do more than that Charlie, she’ll make us more money than ever.”

“Alright, you want me here tonight or do think she’ll be fine all locked up?”

“No Charlie, you have business to attend to in Atlantic City, go find out all you can about Cici’s time there, I want to do something about the bastard you thinks he can play with my property.”