MICKEY AND MUTZIE AVOIDED ALL EYE CONTACT and Irish muttered curses to himself. A few miles from Gorlick’s Irish parked next to phone booth near a country store and without a word got out to make a call.

Only then did Mickey maneuver himself to get the envelope that he had tucked into the space between the seat and the back-rest of the leather seats.

“Don’t ask,” Mickey whispered as his tied hands moved the envelope to Mutzie’s bound hands. She managed to lift her skirt and with effort stuffed the envelope in the rear of her panties.

“What better place,” Mickey whispered. “Call it mad money.”

She didn’t laugh.

“Maybe it will come in handy,” he said, shrugging. He was thinking in miracles again. “That was dumb what you did before, telling him about the money,” Mickey said.

“Where you go I go,” Mutzie said. “Whatever happens. It really wasn’t any of your business in the first place.” She softened her voice. “But I’m not sorry, Mickey. I just think we have a better chance together than apart.”

“I wonder if we have a prayer either way,” Mickey said glumly.

They were quiet for a few moments, looking at each other.

“Close your eyes,” Mutzie whispered.

“What for?”

“I want you to imagine me kissing you and I’ll imagine the same.” She watched him close his eyes and she closed her own. “Imagining?”

He nodded.

“We kiss deeply. I’m in your arms.”

“I’m there.”

“Yum,” she said.

“Yum yum.”

“Because I care about you, Mickey. I care a lot about you. And I know how you feel about me. So please, no more sacrifices. If you were smart you would have bought yourself out. Not try for me.” She paused and smiled at him knowingly and nodded. In a way it was an old issue and they both knew it. “The least you could do now, Mickey, is promise me: No more acts of martyrdom on my behalf. It’s too late for that.”

Mickey thought for a moment, then nodded and blinked moist eyes.

“Maybe I was just trying to get rid of you,” Mickey said.

“Not that cheap.”

“Remember what the circus manager said to the human cannon ball when he wanted to quit?” Mickey smiled.

“You can’t quit,” Mutzie shot back. “I’ll never find another person of your caliber.”

“So you know that one.”

“You taught me,” Mutzie said. Despite everything, she felt oddly happy.

By then, he saw Irish make another call. He hung up, went into the country store and came out with a paper bag. He was eating a Milky Way.

“Pep hadda good idear.”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” Mickey muttered.

“Two boids wid one stone.”

Mickey contemplated the cryptic remark. What was in store for them was ominous.

“I’m really scared, Mickey,” Mutzie said.

“No talkin. I heard enough a yaw lip already. Woise, I fell faw it. How da hell would you guys geta holda two grand?”

When they reached Gorlick’s it was nearly four in the morning. Most of the help and guests were still asleep. Irish parked the car in the parking lot, then turned around brandishing his gun.

“Heahs the deal. I untie ya and ya do as I say or I got pumission from Pep ta blow holes in ya heads. Unnerstand?”

“Who’s arguing?” Mickey said. Remembering Swan Lake, Mickey doubted he would have the guts, but this was no moment to take chances. Irish came around to the back seat and untied them. Mickey helped Mutzie out of the car. They could barely stand and had difficulty walking, but after a struggle they managed to mount the back stairs.

Irish led them to the room Mutzie had shared with Pep. He held the brown bag he carried from the store.

“Not there, please,” Mutzie begged. Irish manhandled her through the door, threw in some candy bars he had bought at the store, then locked it with a key. Mickey’s heart lurched.

“You mustn’t hurt her.”

“Hoit huh? I jes give her some eats,” Irish guffawed.

“Such a humanitarian,” Mickey sneered.

“Ya do anyting stupid, she gets big trouble. Capish?”

Mickey nodded. His heart was breaking with fear for Mutzie and for himself. He couldn’t imagine what was in store for them, but it certainly did not augur well. His memory was seared with the threats made against them by Pep during the horrendous episode at Swan Lake.

Irish led Mickey to his old room and pushed him inside, then threw in the remainder of the candy bars.

“Gotta feed da monkeys.”

“Now the apes are in charge of the zoo.”

“Heahs da game plan, schmucko. Albert and his top goombas are comin here lata for a sit down with some of ow boys. Dere’s sumpin goin down, but da ting is dat ya gotta be dere to make ’em laugh. Da boys want Albert and da rest ta be happy, unnerstand?”

Mickey was more interested in Mutzie’s fate than his own. “And Mutzie?”

“Ya do good, dats all I know. Pep takes care a Mutzie. Da idear is ta make Albert and his boys happy. Get my meanin?”

He felt sick to his stomach. Terrible images of Mutzie being used and abused by those monsters flashed through his mind.

“So go ta sleep, schmucko and we discuss this lata.”

He heard the door lock from the outside. For a long time, he paced the room, his head spinning with ways to evade the fate that seemed to await Mutzie. And himself. Finally, exhausted, he lay on his bed and tried to sleep, only to be interrupted by terrible dreams.

Sometime in the afternoon, Irish appeared at his door.

“Ya gotta see Gawlick,” Irish said.

“First Mutzie,” Mickey said.

“Feget it. And watch yawself with Gawlick. All he knows is ya gotta make Albert laugh. Ya open ya trap bout anyting else, ya start prayin for yaw lady friend.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Ya ain’t got no choice.”

Gorlick was in his office which, as usual, was filled with cigar smoke. Irish left them alone.

“You remember what I told you, boychick, about a schmuck with a schmuck. Do I need this tsouris?”

“So why am I here, Mr. Gorlick?”

“Because you are a not bad tumler. Sometimes funny. Do I know? You make people laugh.”

“Especially certain people. Right, Mr. Gorlick?”

“Especially,” Gorlick agreed. He stuck the cigar in his mouth and puffed, then chomped down on the sucking end that stained his teeth brown. “Which is why I have decided—against my better judgment, Fine, but because I am a man with a big heart—I am going to give you a gift of one more chance.”

“I’ll say this, Mr. Gorlick, when you give a gift you’ll stop at nothing.”

Mr. Gorlick took a deep puff from his cigar and blew out a perfect smoke ring. “I hope you learned your lesson, if you get my meaning.”

Mickey nodded. But his mind was elsewhere as a plan of action began to take shape. All he could think about was how he could help Mutzie.

“Absolutely,” Mickey said.

“Remember, it’s only a trial period.”

Mr. Gorlick pointed his cigar at Mickey as if it were the barrel of a pistol.

“Lock up that schmeckel, tumler. What’s in another man’s bloomers is not your business.”

“A wise saying, Mr. Gorlick. God couldn’t have said it better to Moses.”

Gorlick looked at his watch.

“So go start to tumel. You’re back on the payroll.”

It crossed Mickey’s mind to refuse. After all, he did have the upper hand. Gorlick had found no replacement. But his new plan was contingent on his acceptance.

“You’re a one-man royal family, Mr. Gorlick. A prince of man.”

“Only a prince?” Gorlick said with a Cheshire cat grin.

Irish was waiting for him outside of Gorlick’s office.

“Ya should kiss my tuchas, tumler. I got yaw job back. I should getta cut.” He laughed. “That is, if Pep leaves anything left to cut.”