Tommy had lost and recovered plenty of money over the course of his life. The losses were always paralyzing, at least for a while. But this time, when he gave Pearl money he’d earmarked for his family, he was empowered, his anger at someone hurting her propelling him to action. At first he started running toward Rupert’s boardinghouse, but he forced himself into long, even paces to tamp down his rage, not wanting to run blind into the barrel of a gun.
When he reached Rupert’s, he took the stairs by two and banged on the door. A scrawny old man wrenched it open and spit. “What the hell?”
Tommy drew deep breaths, assessing what he saw, telling himself this man was physically small and harmless looking. Tommy dwarfed him by a foot and probably sixty pounds. This couldn’t be the right man.
“Looking for Rupert.”
The man lifted his chin, his nose crooked from being broken several times. He pulled a shot gun from behind the door and leveled it on Tommy.
He began to sweat. “I’m here to collect Pearl’s things.”
“Don’t know no Pearl.” He started to shut the door. Tommy jammed his foot into the gap, ready to duck away if he saw a glimpse of the man’s trigger finger moving.
“Give me her book and anything else that’s hers. And if she paid ahead, give me that, too.”
The man scoffed. “She owes me, that trampy thief.”
Tommy kicked the door open, making Rupert stumble back and drop the gun. Tommy caught the man before he fell and set him back on his feet. “Pearl’s not that.”
The man slapped Tommy’s steadying hand away. “She’s got a thief’s heart. Wouldn’t be long ’fore she—”
“Does not.” Tommy kicked the gun away, his voice lifting the rafters in the shabby room. As dirt covered as Pearl’s skin often was, her heart was as bright and pure as the sun rising on a clear summer morning. He thought of how she’d warned Tommy away from bad deeds. She was as far from a thief as anyone he could name.
Rupert crossed his arms and smirked. “Well you do, don’t ya? No other type would take up with a girl like Pearl. Boys!”
As Tommy surveyed the space, moving toward the gun, boys of all ages crept out of hiding spots and down the front steps as though being lured by a sudden tilt of the earth toward Tommy and Rupert. Two boys carried baseball bats, and suddenly Tommy fully understood Pearl’s bruises.
“Give me Pearl’s bag now. Her book. Whatever else is hers.”
“She don’t own nothin’ but worthless words on paper. Owes me and I’m takin’ payment in her stupid papers until that tramp—”
Tommy took one stride toward Rupert and lifted him by his collar.
A war cry rose up and someone hopped onto Tommy’s back. Another boy jammed a bat into his stomach. Tommy dropped Rupert and turned just in time to catch a second bat in the midsection. He bent forward, the wind knocked out of him. The boys leapt all over him, pounding away. Tommy curled into a ball to recover his air, and once he had, he unfolded his limbs with a grunt, sitting up, tossing them all across the room. He lumbered to his feet and ripped the bat out of the hands of the last one rushing toward him. He held it up as though waiting for a pitch, still barely able to breathe.
Rupert’s face registered fear, and that caused the boys who were cowering or finding their way to their feet to realize that one Tommy Arthur could do more damage than a handful of them.
Tommy grabbed the rifle and held it, realizing why none of the boys had made a move for it.
The trigger was missing. He tossed it aside and pointed the bat at a slip of a boy who hadn’t been in the tussle but trembled on the stairs. “You. Show me Pearl’s room.”
Tommy followed the mop-topped boy upstairs, the steps creaking as they went.
“Leon,” Rupert said. “He harms a single thing up there you crack ’im in the head.”
One full riser near the top was missing. Tommy finally took in the full extent of the smell—the stale body odors—and his heart broke to know that this was where Pearl had been living. The boy led him to a small room at the end of the hall. It was cold and crowded with mattresses strewn across the floor. “Pearl slept near the closet. Bag’s in there.”
“Get it, Leon. That’s your name, right?”
He nodded and stepped across the mattresses, making Tommy cringe as his filthy shoe bottoms touched where people laid at night. “Where’s the other girls? They all right?”
Leon leaned into the closet and pulled a bag out along with the book of fairy tales Tommy had given her. He stepped back across the mattresses. “What girls? Pearl’s it for girls. Other than her female dog. But that’s it. No girls.”
Tommy’s breath caught at the thought she had to sleep in the same room with unrelated boys. She never mentioned pets that he could remember. “Where’re the pets now?”
Leon shrugged. “And we ain’t ever hurt her. Not us boys. Rupert’s son. He done it. Pearl’s dog wet the floor, and his son went crazy.” The boy’s voice quivered. “She ain’t got no thief’s heart neither. Most generous I know.”
Tommy nodded, studying the emaciated boy. “She’s a good soul.”
Leon shivered through his thin undershirt and signaled toward the fairy-tale collection. “She reads me stories from this here boulder of a book. Can’t even believe all the ideas locked up tight inside of it.”
Tommy smiled feeling bad for Leon, pleased that Pearl had shared her stories, knowing that doing so would have been satisfying to her. “Where’s your shirt?”
The boy appeared confused and looked down. “This is my shirt.”
Tommy exhaled, wanting to give Leon something that would help keep him warm as winter neared. He set Pearl’s things down. The boy flew back into the closet.
“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Tommy took off his coat and plaid work shirt. “Here. It’s too big for you, but hide it away so Rupert doesn’t see it’s from me. Then trade for something that fits.”
The boy’s mouth fell open, and he reached for the shirt. He held it against him, gasping. He finally met Tommy’s gaze. “Thank you.”
Tommy yanked his coat back on, blanching from pain. “Welcome.” He buttoned it up on the off chance someone might notice his shirt had gone missing.
Tommy stuffed Pearl’s book into the bag, jammed it under one arm, and picked up the bat.
“Tell her see-ya for me.” Leon’s voice cracked.
Tommy nodded. “I will.” Tommy touched the boy’s shoulder and he got a distinct sense of goodness from him, despite his current situation. “You’d better come down so Rupert doesn’t suspect you have a sweet spot for Pearl or were nice to me. Might use it against you somehow.”
Leon balled up the shirt, stuck it into the back corner of the closet, and followed. Tommy swung the bat as he descended, hiding the pain that came with each stairstep. The other boys had mean, strong swings and bony fists, and Tommy could feel the broken vessels spilling into bruises.
Tommy hoped he wouldn’t have to hit his way out of the boardinghouse, but he wanted to be clear. He raised the bat. “Don’t ever bother with Pearl again.”
Rupert pressed his back up against the wall near the door and lifted the other baseball bat in response. “Sure thing, Prince Charming. Best not’ve lifted anything from up there. Leon? He take anything not Pearl’s?”
The boy shook his head and squared his shoulders, trying to make himself look big, as though to repel any sense of alliance that may have formed while Tommy retrieved Pearl’s things.
“Prince Charming?” Tommy stared at Rupert.
“Pearl always squawkin’ ’bout life with princes and fairies and men who rescue girls.” Rupert scoffed. “Told her a million times I’m her prince. Good as it gets.”
Tommy wanted to strangle the man.
“But here you are. First, that nosy battle-axe Hillis in her fancy coat and feather hat. Now you. Prince. Rescue. Whole goddamn thing.”
Tommy shook his head, not knowing if Pearl found a nice room at the women’s hotel, but sure wherever she was, had to have been a million times better than this.