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Born Under A Bad Sign	By : LilLolaBlue Category: DC Verse Comics > Watchmen Views: 1341 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I don't own Watchmen, and I make no profit from writing this story.

Chapter List
- 2
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Chapter Three: Every Dog Has Its Day

New York City, 1948

III: Sally

Behind the closed door of her bedroom in her swank Manhattan townhouse, Sally Jupiter got dressed in an expensive black and yellow gown for New York’s third annual dinner in appreciation of its superheroes.

Holding the gown in front of her, she stood before her mirror in her stockings, garters, and underwear, looking for the cellulite Larry had been complaining about.

Not that it bothered him, personally, but he had her career to think about.

Her career.

Her career was being the Silk Spectre, masked hero.

Larry thought her career had to do with action figures and underwear ads.

She didn’t see any. Maybe a little tiny bit under her ass, but there wasn’t a woman in the world who didn’t have a little bit of cellulite under her ass.

As she put the dress on, it occurred to her that she had arrived in the place she had been looking to be when she started. She had money, and fame, indeed, thanks to her picture being painted on B-52 bombers, she was an American icon. Not to mention a nice house, a healthy bank account, a stable, educated husband, and she could go to sleep every night knowing she had done something good for the old city, which was a reward that was greater than the film stardom she had once dreamt of.

The world of a superhero was kinder than Hollywood; as long as you were fit enough to fight, you were alright.

But even so, on her wall, in a simple wood and metal frame, she had a picture of the Minutemen’s Christmas party in 1938.

She looked happy, and young, smiling on Rolf’s arm, with Eddie kneeling right in front of her.

Sally remembered that she had been thinking about him, Eddie, when they took the picture, he’d been grinning at her all night, and she wondered what he was up to.

Why didn’t you just let him do it?

She banished that thought from her mind.

Under the picture was a dresser drawer, which contained the only proof that Eddie Blake had a heart, albeit one as black as midnight in a coal mine, the letters he had written her during the war.

She pulled the drawer out and looked at them, then closed it, again, and looked back at the picture.

“Well, Eddie, here we are. Another year older. That one went fast, didn’t it?”

Sally had fallen into the habit of talking to Eddie’s picture; they had better conversations than she and Larry did, much less arguing about sex and money.

Despite what she told Hollis Mason a few years before, Sally had never quite been able to let it go, even after all these years.

Of course, if she really wanted to, she could have talked to the genuine article.

He still had a house in Bensonhurst, and a swanky apartment uptown, according to the New York Post, and she saw him, here and there, in the course of business, from time to time.

Today, Sally had Eddie on her mind because she knew she was going to see him.

He hadn’t been at the 1947 dinner, because at the 1946 dinner Eddie showed up with his crazy off-again, on-again girlfriend German Jewish resistance heroine Sophie Kauffmann.

They both got drunk and started to fight and she pulled out a gun from under her dress and took a pot shot at him.

She missed, on purpose, she was a crack shot, and Eddie seemed to find it amusing, but after that, Miss Kauffmann was not welcome back.

But, she’d left town about six months before, to go join the Israeli army, so as she wouldn’t be around, Eddie would probably show up.

Sally came out of her bedroom, ready to leave, and there was Larry, in his customary white shirt and khakis, sitting, as usual, in front of the TV.

“Aren’t you a little underdressed?”

“I’m not going.”

“What? You want me to go by myself? Why?”

Larry turned around.

“Because I always feel like a first-class schmuck at these affairs. You get drunk and flirt with everything in a mask, and I have to stand there and smile like an idiot while all those big lummoxes look at me like ‘why the hell did a girl like her marry a guy like you?’ If anybody asks about me, tell them I got the flu. I doubt they will.” He said.

“Yeah, but aren’t you worried I’ll do something to damage my precious image?”

“Sally, your image is set in stone as the woman on the side of the B-52. Nobody but me and your mask buddies know that you’re turning into a drunken Polack fishwife, and they’re not likely to tell. As long as you keep yourself in good shape and smile for the camera when you’re supposed to, no one else will find out. Besides, your career is pretty close to over, anyway.”

“You know, Larry, I know you think those kinds of comments hurt my feelings, but they don’t. You know why not?”

“No, but I think you’re going to tell me.”

“Because they come from you. And which one of us had their picture painted on the side of every bomber in Europe, and which one of us is a fuckin’ weasel parked in an easy chair who doesn’t have enough goddamn balls to take his wife to a dinner? Have a nice night, Larry. I plan to.”

“I’ll bet.”

Sally stormed out and slammed the door.

On her way over in the car, though, she realized she wasn’t mad because Larry didn’t go, she was mad because he always treated her with a mixture of admiration and contempt.

If he wasn’t fawning all over her, then he was sniping and backbiting, like a woman who was about to get the curse.

When she got home, she knew he’d be sorry sorry sorry and after her for the next two or three days to forgive him, it was just the thought of her being around all those guys that were so much better looking than he was it drove him crazy, please forgive me, baby, and then he would be extra super nice-nice until something else happened for him to have one of his mean little fits over.

And she’d tell him, well, Larry, I married you and not one of them, didn’t I, which might make him feel man enough to do his duty, which, while not a stellar experience, was something, and something she didn’t have to go out to a bar and look for, like usual.

Usually at these affairs the masks came in formal dress with their masks and headpieces on, except Superman always had his costume on and Batman never showed.

Clark was that rare specimen among people, a genuinely good man. He came over and asked her where her husband was, and Sally told him the truth.

“Sally, that man is no good for you. He’s been exploiting you and living off your hard work for years. You never should have married him, and you really should divorce him. You deserve better.” He told her.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

Good old Hollis. He had been in her corner from the start and he wasn’t likely to leave it, anytime soon. She supposed when she decided to marry somebody, she should have picked Hollis instead of Larry, but she didn’t care about running around on Larry and what he thought about it, but she had never wanted to break Hollis’ heart.

And she knew she would have.

Sally just wasn’t a one-man woman.

Clark politely excused himself as Hollis followed Sally over to the bar.

“Sally, please. You can’t sit here all night and drink.”

“Watch me.”

“Clark is right. You deserve better than that self-serving, money-grubbing weasel you married.”

“No I don’t, Hollis. I drink too much, I smoke too much, I swear too much and I like to run around with men. If I had a decent guy, I’d feel bad about it. With Larry, I don’t give a shit.”

“You run around with men because you’re looking for the right one, that’s all. It’s his fault. He did this to you. You know who I mean.”

“Hollis, please. I was taking my clothes off for strange men because it was a good way to make money and I didn’t mind their company a long time before I met Eddie and that night in the trophy room. I can’t spend the rest of my life blaming all my problems on the fact that he was a mean, impatient, no-good little shit about a hundred years ago.” Sally protested.

She had a few drinks, and she danced with Hollis a little and walked around, socializing with her fellow masks.

It felt good to be in the company of people who understood and respected her, and she actually started to have a good time.

Of course, then, Eddie showed up in full armor, with his guns on and everything.

But that was alright, she wasn’t feeling angry with him, tonight.

Hell, she was almost happy to see him.

She was at the bar as she watched him check his shotgun with the coat check girl, but there he was, yet in his black leather and steel and his stars and stripes, with his guns on his hips like he was Jesse James.

Bad like Jesse James, that was Eddie. He probably loved that song. Eddie always did like the blues and Dixieland jazz, and the places you went to hear it, places where you could get into a lot of trouble and have a real good time.

Eddie in a nutshell.

A lot of trouble and a real good time.

Sally caught herself staring hungrily at him, running obscene scenarios in her mind.

Following him to the john.

Or to his car.

Getting him alone long enough to see if he was still interested.

She had pride when he used to know her, and why shouldn’t she? She was young and the possibilities of her exciting life seemed endless.

But now, with thirty looming on the horizon, and ten years of getting dressed up like a two-dollar whore to go smack criminals around and not a lot to show for it, she was older and wiser and usually drunker and she wasn’t as picky as she used to be.

Eddie, I’m not the girl you used to know. I’m an old drunk, now and I’m not much better than a two-dollar whore and I guess I’d take what I can get.

She was staring into the bottom of her glass, thinking about it.

Maybe outside.

It was dark, nobody would see them.

She was thinking about Eddie pressing her shoulders against the wall with the warm, heavy weight of his strong body, kissing her furiously, running his hand up over the tops of her stockings to touch the sliver of naked thigh between her stockings and garters, when he unexpectedly came and stood beside her at the bar.

“Hiya, Sal.”

She jumped a mile.

“Get lost, Eddie. You’re drunk.”

Sally had no idea why she was telling him to get lost while she was still thinking about screwing him, maybe she just wanted to preserve a little of what was left of her dignity.

“Yeah. And you ain’t?”

“Of course I’m drunk. It’s a party, ain’t it?”

“With you in that dress you’re almost wearing, it sure is.”

Sally was suddenly furious with him.

That was the way she was about Eddie, one minute she was thinking about screwing him, the next she wanted to break his face.

“Who asked you to look?”

“Everybody’s lookin’, Sal. Except that stiff you married. Where’s he? Cryin’ in the john cos when you wear a dress like that, he knows he ain’t man enough for youse?”

Same old Eddie.

Mean, loud, sarcastic and crude.

“And you are, is that right, Eddie? Jesus Christ, will you forget about me? What part of get lost didn’t you fuckin’ hear?”

“Jesus, Sal, how many times do I hafta tellya I’m sorry? I was just a damn kid, what the fuck did I know?”

Sally jabbed her finger into the middle of his breastplate, angrily.

“You knew you wanted me to fuck you and you didn’t care if I wanted to or not, you knew that! You want me to break your face?” she demanded, angrily.

He looked a little surprised.

Sally was surprised herself that she’d said it.

“Yeah, Sal, if that’s what you want, go ahead. Hit me. I deserve it. I admit it, I was a rotten kid. I did a terrible thing to youse. Youse and a lotta other people. Only difference is, I’m sorry for what I done to youse. Fuck the rest of ‘em. I mean, whaddya want me to do about it? Chop my cock off and send it to youse in a box with a pretty fuckin’ bow?”

“Hell, I don’t know, Eddie. We shouldn’t be talking about it, here. I’m just drunk. Don’t mind me.” Sally muttered.

“That’s your problem, Sal. Nobody’s minding you. You and me both know if that fuck you married wanted to have a cock he’d have to buy a rooster. What do you do with him for fun? Beat him up when he mouths off to you?”

Sally laughed, in spite of herself.

“Same old Eddie. Why dontcha go fuck yourself, ya rude bastard?”

“You mind if I think about you while I do it?”

Sally found herself at a loss for words, and Eddie laughed, pausing to light a cigar.

“Yeah. Yeah I do. I mind.” She replied.

“What? Me and every other guy in America, right?”

“Shit, I don’t think they even remember me, anymore. I’m well on my way to being an old married has-been. Now let me get blotto in peace.”

“He stood youse up, didn’t he? Whatta you lookin’ at, pal? Gimme whatever she’s havin’, an go take a fuckin’ powder, willya?”

The bartender got them both a couple of drinks and scurried away.

Sally looked into her glass.

“Yeah. Larry stood me up. But I don’t care. I’m havin’ a better time without him.”

“Jesus Christ, what a fuckin’ asshole. Why the hell did you marry that pencil-necked fuckin’ weasel, anyway?”

“I don’t know. Prob’ly ‘cause I knew I wasn’t the marryin’ kind and I didn’t care if I broke his heart. Hey, Eddie, you wanna dance?”

He gave her a funny look, but then he just grinned, that wicked Eddie grin of his.

“Sure, doll.”

***

The rest of the night passed by in a blur, as Sally got really drunk, but then again, a lot of masks got really drunk at these dinners.

She was somewhat aware that she was getting some funny looks, especially from the likes of poor Hollis that she was spending the whole night dancing and drinking with Eddie, laughing it up like they were 17 and 20 again and the trophy room had never happened, but Sally was too drunk and having too much of a good time to care.

She got too drunk to drive home and she realized she was making something of a spectacle of herself, hanging on Eddie Blake’s arm because she was too sloshed to walk on her own, but he put her in a taxi and paid the driver and told her to go home and sleep it off.

Larry had waited up for her; he was extremely contrite. He apologized a million times while he was helping her get undressed and get to bed, blaming himself and his meanness for her going out and getting drunk and he was indeed sorry sorry sorry and acting very nice-nice.

As for Sally, she was drunk and she was sleepy and she went out almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

That night she had the stupidest dreams for a woman almost thirty, an ex-stripper from Red Hook who hadn’t been a virgin since she was 14, who beat up criminals for a living and spent a good bit of her free time either hanging around with other masks and telling war stories or looking for appreciative male fans in bars.

She dreamt about the evening that had just past, the one she spent dancing with Eddie to slow jazz music, in a proper dress like a real woman, in a real man’s arms.

***

A few days later she was having an argument with his picture.

She often had arguments with Eddie’s picture, especially in the wake of meeting up with him.

This time, she was especially furious at him for awakening yearnings in her for real genuine affection, for a little kindness, a little tenderness, that she thought she’d buried deep a long, long time ago.

The fact the first glimmer of either she’d had in a long time came from Eddie was especially infuriating.

“Goddamn it, Eddie! This is your fuckin’ fault! I’m in this mess causa you! You junkyard dog waterfront rat bastard, you! I guess I married Larry cos he was everything you weren’t. Stable. Educated. Respectable. And did I say boring? Boring! Shit, he’s boring all day long, and worse, boring all night. So maybe I wanted it from ya? So sue me? Was that a crime? I didn’t want it then, not with everybody waitin’ in the other room, and I sure didn’t want it the way ya tried ta give it to me! Ya rotten bastard, couldn’tcha wait? Didn’tcha know any goddamn better? Now, I gotta find this out? I gotta find out that you, ya low-down, two-tone son-of-a-bitch might be the only man in this rotten world who really gives a damn about me, as a woman? Why din’cha act like this ten years ago, instead of beatin’ the shit outa me and throwin’ me on the floor! It’s your fault, Eddie! All your fault!”

Of course, most of the time Sally knew that everything she didn’t like about her life wasn’t all Eddie’s fault, and that he wasn’t worth the powder it would take to blow him to Hell, and half the time she didn’t even think about him.

Most of the time.

But she was thinking about him, now and when she spent time thinking about him, sometimes she even missed him, sort of.

One thing about Eddie, until he decided to try and beat her half to death so he could rape her, they always had a good time.

And the motherfucker remained a real good-lookin’ son of a bitch, too.

Helluva man.

Leave it to him to show her that he still had good in him; leave it to her to still be able to see it.

It was the worst of times for Sally to remember she had a heart, because the mask game was becoming less and less of a real vocation to eradicate crime and more and more of a stunt to sell underwear and action figures, because she knew she was getting to the point where she couldn’t do it, anymore.

And her marriage got worse with every passing day.

Every day was a bad day and a drunken day, and on one bad, drunken day, she decided to get even with Eddie Blake.

For everything.

***

It started out a pretty normal day.

She got out of bed around noon with every muscle in her body hurting from a fight the night before and took a long shower.

Larry was at his office that she paid the rent on, negotiating a deal for her to model for another action figure or sell dish soap, or something, so Sally got dressed and went to a bar she knew of for lunch and drinks.

It was a nice place, a lounge, really, not some kind of dive; she hadn’t yet degenerated into hanging around in sleazy dives trying to pick up men, she figured that would be in another ten years, or so.

She met a guy, a former GI who had flown 42 missions in the belly of an airplane with her likeness painted on it.

He seemed like a nice guy, he looked one hell of a lot more manly than Larry did, and he remembered who she was.

She asked him if he wanted to go to the Biltmore to have another drink.

Sally always took the guys she picked up to the Biltmore, a girl she went to school with and had danced with worked the front desk on weekdays, and she knew how to keep her mouth shut.

He was a nice guy. Idolised her. He was starstruck that she was drinking with him, and he was starstruck that she wanted to get a room for the afternoon for them, but he wasn’t too starstruck to be able to do his duty.

He wasn’t bad, but he wasn’t great.

Then again, that’s the way it was with most men. Sally had learned not to expect a whole hell of a lot from them, if she had her fun and they had theirs, that was good enough.

You weren’t going to meet someone every day who drove you to heights of screaming, sheet-ripping ecstasy.

She was polite to him when she left.

He didn’t want her to go, and he tried to make a date for another meeting, another drink, an address or a phone number.

He tried to tell her he was a nice guy, a good guy, which meant, in the end, he wouldn’t be too happy with her.

Sally had the room for the rest of the day and she didn’t mind if the guy stayed in it, she was going home.

She didn’t want to get attached to any of these guys; it was easier, this way.

When she was sober enough Sally despaired that this was what her life had come too. Trapped in a loveless marriage to a man who saw her as a combination meal ticket and cash cow who would have had to buy a rooster to have a cock, whiling away the days drinking and picking up men for anonymous sex in hotels, then prowling the streets or going to the old hangout at night.

She was supposed to be retired but she didn’t know what else to do with her life but be a superhero.

Drink, screw, fight, sleep, yell at Eddie’s picture once in awhile. Pose for happy pictures in magazines with a plastic smile on, sign papers, read agreements for underwear ads, make sure Larry wasn’t fucking her out of her hard-earned money.

But Sally didn’t like to think about it, that’s why she tried not to stay too sober for too long.

On her way home from her afternoon assignation, she had a few more drinks, in another bar, and it occurred to her that most of the guys she had her afternoon dates with, the younger ones and the older ones and the guys around her own age, the ex-GI’s and the starstruck young fans, and the good-looking older guys who seemed to understand her more than the rest, they all had one thing in common.

They were all generally the same height and build as Eddie.

They were all of them Eddie but not Eddie, over and over again.

That realization made her mad.

No, it made her furious.

He was like a bad penny that wouldn’t stop turning up. No matter what she did or where she turned, Eddie was always just around every bend, at every corner, behind every door, always and everywhere, since she was 20 years old, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.

Well, if that was the way it was going to be, then she was going to have to resolve things between them.

She looked at her watch.

If any of those kids were still at school, they wouldn’t be home yet.

That gave her plenty of time to go and do what she had to do.

In a white-hot fury, Sally got in her car and lead-footed it to Bensonhurst.

She parked a block away from the house where Eddie had lived and went pounding on the door.

He still lived there, the son of a bitch, and it was an hour until the youngest of those kids got home from school and he was still in his goddamn bathrobe.

He was sure as hell a man, now, a full-grown man, six four and two-forty, but no sooner did he let her in the door than she got that first punch in, hit him as hard as she could, harder than she had ever hit anybody before, and she knocked out a couple of his teeth.

That gave him something to think about.

Eddie hit her back. Not the first time she hit him, or the second, but he had to, because Sally was beating on him like she meant it, like he was some shitheel in the street she was trying to bring down, and when he hit her she hardly felt it, she just kept fucking hitting him, it felt goddamn good to hit him, and hit him, and hit him again.

She was screaming at him the whole time.

“…ya lousy, rotten, no-good shanty Mick cocksucker! Ya ruined my life, and ya fucked yours up pretty good too! Ya goddamn mad dog sunnuvabitch…”

He didn’t go down, though, until she kicked him right in the balls, like she was punting a football, and that was it.

That was it.

“I hope you ain’t thinkin’ about gettin’ up and hittin’ me back, Eddie, because I’ll snap your fuckin’ neck.” She told him.

And just then, she was mad enough that she had the strength to do it.

He didn’t say anything and he didn’t move; but considering how hard she’d just tried to drive his nuts back into his stomach, she figured he couldn’t do either.

The fight was over almost as soon as it started, and then whatever had got into Sally in that bar just left her as fast as it possessed her.

It was like coming to after being knocked out, and there she was, with blood on her hands and blood on her coat, and Eddie’s goddamn front door was still open and he was in a daze on the floor, eyeballing one or two of his teeth, holding onto his nuts with both hands and swearing into the carpet and bleeding all over the place.

And Sally couldn’t figure out how the fuck that had happened.

She was suddenly sorry.

Sorry she hit him, sorry she showed up at all, because now that her rage had passed she didn’t feel any better and nothing at all had changed.

She slammed the door shut, bent over, and picked his teeth up for him.

“I can’t believe I did that. You conscious, Eddie?”

“Mostly. Fuck, that hurts! I ain’t even got my shorts on, fa Chissakes! Are you done, Sal?” he finally croaked.

“Yeah. I’m done. That makes us even, now.” She told him.

“Yeah, but didja have to kick me in the balls? Fuck, I can’t even fuckin’ move! There goes my whole night.”

“Considering what you tried to do to me, yeah, I think kickin’ you in the balls is appropriate! I gotta be losin’ my mind. What the fuck am I doin’ here, anyway? Look, I got yer goddamn teeth. I’ll put ‘em in a wet towel for ya. Your dentist can put ‘em back in, if you get there in a hurry.”

He dragged himself to his feet and she realized she’d beat him pretty bad; anybody else wouldn’t have got off the floor until the ambulance came with a stretcher.

“Yeah, you’re retired. Retired, my ass.”

He staggered into the kitchen to use the phone.

“Hey, Edie? Can you get Jimmy and Allie from school? I dunno, use Ivan’s truck, I’ll bet he ain’t workin’. No, I’m fine, I just had a coupla girls over and I lost track of time. I gotta clean up the place. No, I ain’t hurt, I’m just tired. Really. Look, Edie, just go get the kids before they leave and walk back here. You feed ‘em tonight and I’ll come get ‘em, later. Okay? Bye.”

Eddie stumbled into the can, swearing, and Sally wondered what she should do, now.

She stood in the kitchen for awhile, listening to the water running in the bathroom.

She wasn’t sure why she wasn’t leaving, so she washed the blood of her hands and her coat and by then Eddie came out of the bathroom.

He didn’t bother to put a towel around his waist, he just walked into his bedroom, naked, and came out a few minutes later in fatigue pants and boots and a fatigue A-line undershirt.

He had cleaned up his face pretty well, and put a few clips on the cut over his eye; after he washed all the blood off his face it looked a little better.

Not much.

Still it wasn’t his face she’d been looking at.

“Well, youse drivin’ me to the hospital, Sal?”

“Jesus, Eddie, did I beat ya up that bad?”

“Naw. I just can’t drive, I’m seein’ double. An’ my dentist don’t work on Wednesdays.”

“Sure. I’ll drive ya. Then maybe we can go have a drink.”

***

After they got through at Brooklyn General, Eddie stopped at a phone booth and told his sister to keep the kids for the night; he was out with an old friend.

Then, they went out and got blind, stinking drunk, and complained to each other.

“You’re goddamn lucky that your girl Sophie, or any of those other broads you run with ain’t the marryin’ kind. Hell, I ain’t the marryin’ kind. I wish I never got married. At least not to Larry. Jesus, Eddie, why is it whatever I do in my life, it always seems to lead to you?”

“Because we got unfinished business together, Sal. An’ you didn’t finish it kickin’ my ass all over the place, although, I gotta admit, I had it comin’.”

“You did, you son of a bitch! I really used ta like you, yunno? I mean I kept all your secrets. I still do. Why’d you have to go and do a thing like that to me? Dontcha know you broke my fuckin’ heart?”

Eddie looked into his glass and then looked back at her.

“Yeah. I know. I got no excuse, Sal. I was young, dumb, and full of come, and ya drove me crazy. I ain’t sayin’ it was your fault, but, Jesus, I’d take one look at youse and my pecker would get so hard my balls hurt for a week. Then, you told me how youse was changin’ your clothes and…”

He stopped talking, finished his drink and swore under his breath.

“…I had it all figured out that was the night, and when you socked me one, I lost it. I know youse don’t believe me I’m sorry about it, because I ain’t never been sorry for anything in my life, hardly, but I’m sorry for what I done to youse, Sal. I’m sorry every fuckin’ day. I had one fuckin’ minute in my life where I acted like Pop, an’ it was enough to fuck up my whole fuckin’ life. But it’s my fuckin’ fault, so who am I gonna cry to? You? Yeah, right.”

He got up and got another drink, and as he was raising it to his lips, Sally just said it.

“I forgive you, Eddie.”

He dropped his glass on the floor.

It broke.

“You what?”

“I forgive you, Eddie. It was a long goddamn time ago. You were just a dumb kid and so was I, and we’ve both been paying in spades ever since. I forgive you. I really do. If I don’t forgive you, this thing is gonna ruin what I got left of my fuckin’ life.”

Sally waited for him to say something, but Eddie just got this look on his face, this very strange sort of look and he stared at her like he had never met her before in his life.

“How the fuck can you forgive me for doin’ what I did?” he asked

“Well, for starters, Eddie, you didn’t do it. And, sure, maybe Rolf cut you off at the pass, but you know where I lived, you knew where I worked, you knew what kind of car I drove. You coulda tried again. That’s what that rotten father of yours woulda done, because he was a vicious, evil, criminal son of a bitch. But you ain’t him, so you didn’t do it.”

They were both quiet for awahile.

Neither of them knew what to say, but then again, neither of them wanted to just get up and leave.

“So, how’d your life turn out, Eddie? I mean, really, not just the shit from the papers.”

“Alright. The kids are almost all grown up. I got money to burn and I don’t have to wear shoes with newspaper in the toes and on the bottom anymore, right? You know what my cover is? I’m a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. I walk by, everybody says, there goes Eddie Blake. He’s some kinda G-man. And look at me, shit, I’m as big a hero as Cap was and Supes and the Bat are. I have lunch with Nick Fury and dinner with Harry Truman. But it doesn’t matter. They can put my ass in Life magazine, cigar and all, and I’m still the goat. Because I still end up doing all the dirty work. Eddie, your country needs you. That’s how it starts, and it never ends up pretty. But they ask me to do it because they know I can and they know I will. What a fucking joke. And on top of it, Sophie skips town on me. Not that I was madly in love with the broad, but I liked her. She was the only broad I ever knew who was crazy enough to stick with me. Does Max Grossmann care if she sees me on the side? No. He’s an understanding guy. How do you like that? I save her life, I put up with her crazy Jew ass for three years, and Max, he fuckin’ marries her even though she’s still fuckin’ me oncea week, an’ what does she do? She skips town on both of us. Crazy Jew bitch. But whadda I gotta say about it? Nothin’ in my life is mine. My kids are my Ma and Pop’s, Sophie’s Max’s wife. All I got’s my work. And when what I do slips out, all these fuckin’ Commie egghead longhairs are waving their fingers at me sayin’ I’m a bad guy. I like that. I bust my ass every day and risk my life so they can have the right to live in a free country and call me an asshole and what do I get? Jacked off. In one breath they say I’m a hero, in the next they say I’m a menace, and every third mask I know gives me dirty looks. Did I say what a fucking joke it all is? Lemme say it again.”

“At least you got a life, Eddie. At least you got work. You know what I got? Shit, that’s what. You know what’s a fucking joke? My marriage. And so is my job. The Minutemen are on their way out, our day has come and gone. Pretty soon I’m gonna be thirty. I’m goin’ to pot. I’m on my way out. It’s all downhill from here. Things didn’t turn out like I was sure they would, but I sure as hell can’t blame you for most of it. I mean, the only thing I got goin’ for me is that I got my money, and my house and my car and they’re mine. Nothin’ has Larry’s name on it. I did that for myself, at least. But what happens next? I dunno. Maybe I got a few years of B movies and underwear ads in me, yet, but I wake up every morning and I’m in pain from ten years in the street. If I don’t retire for real and leave it all behind, soon, I’ll end up some kinds cripple. I could take pills, but, Jesus, who wants to be all hopped up on goofballs alla time? The last thing I need is to turn into a goddamn junkie. So, I guess I drink too much. I’m not what I used to be. You seen my legs. They look like hell. I got that cellulite shit under my ass. I never had any of that shit. You can feel it. It’s disgusting. At least that’s Larry’s excuse. I mean, is it that bad? Go ahead. I wanna know.”

Eddie had his hands under the table in seconds, flat.

She expected him to grab at her, awkwardly, but he wasn’t a goddamn kid anymore; he knew what he was doing.

He had good hands, strong hands, and the way he was touching her made her feel good all over.

Maybe that was the only thing that mattered.

So Eddie had been a rotten kid and he was a bad man, so she drank too much and ran around with men and liked being a mask more than being some Hollywood bimbo.

If they could still get along, if they could make each other feel good, what did the rest of it matter?

“I think ya legs look great, doll. I didn’t see nothin’ wrong with them. An’ ya ass feels pretty good, too. You’re still pretty as you were when they took that picture of you they made into the pinup. I got one on my wall. In my bedroom. Where I can see it when I’m lyin’ in my bed at night, Alone. Now let’ see about you bein’ on your way out…”

“Jesus, Eddie, we’re in public, getcha thumb outa the cookie jar! You wanna ‘nother drink? I wanna ‘nother drink. Hey, waiter! ‘Nother round over here.”

She didn’t insist again on Eddie getting his hands out of the cookie jar, and he didn’t right away, and that was alright with her.

Although when he did get his hand out from under the table and licked his fingers, Sally almost found herself diving under the table.

The only thing that really stopped her was that she was too goddamn drunk, and if she made any sudden moves, she probably pass out.

They were both plenty goddamn drunk.

“You got no shame, Eddie. You’re a dirty bastard. Look, next weekend, Larry’s goin on a business trip. Trying to get me a cereal ad, or somethin’. He’ll be leavin’ Friday morning, and coming back Saturday night. Why don’tcha come over on Friday, around noon.”

“Are you drunk, or somethin’?”

“Hell yeah, I’m drunk. But I mean it, Eddie. So, whaddya say?”

“What do I say? I say, you think I’m a dirty bastard? You bet your ass I am. An’ nex’ week when Mr. No-Dick ain’t home, I’m gonna show youse just how dirty I am.”

***

They leaned on each other as they left the bar, and Sally almost crashed her car a few times on her way to Eddie’s place and then home.

She couldn’t believe what she’d done that day, when she went back home it looked like a foreign place to her.

She also hardly noticed she had a shiner until Larry brought it up.

He might not have said anything to her if she hadn’t walked past the TV.

“What the hell happened to you?”

“I’m a superhero. What do you think?”

“Are you sure it wasn’t a bar fight?”

“Fuck you, Larry! I put the food on the goddamn table around here, I’m entitled to go out and have a good time if I want to. I sure as shit can’t have one at home with you.”

He didn’t say anything.

Larry was a lousy arguer.

He’d say something snotty and yell a little but if she got really mad, he’d just back down.

It wasn’t so much that he believed her or didn’t, it was just that as long as she was still pulling in the big bucks and nobody was taking her picture tomorrow, Larry didn’t care.

“I’m goin’ ta bed. You and Milton Berle have a wonderful evening.”

***

The next week was the longest week of Sally’s life.

Larry was sorry sorry sorry and nice-nice the morning after she came home with the shiner, which made her really want to hurt him, to smack him around, good.

It crawled by, day after interminable day and left her thinking about Eddie at the party in his costume, and Eddie at the bar, licking his fingers and that Eddie had a picture of her, on his wall, in the bedroom, a poster, hung where he could see it while he was lying in bed at night.

Sally sat there in her apartment, wearing make-up and earrings and a low-cut dress and her best nylons, on a Friday afternoon high above bustling midtown Manhattan, thinking about Eddie Blake lying in his bed, looking at her poster, getting off.

She crossed her legs and uncrossed them, really thinking about it. He practically told her that he would look at her picture and whack off, the dirty SOB. He had big hands, Eddie did and he was a big son of a bitch, she wondered if his pecker was as big as his hands, as big as the rest of him, lying there in his bed in one of his crummy undershirts with his hand down the front of his crummy shorts, looking at her on the wall.

It looked pretty goddamn big sitting lying there asleep on his leg when he came out of the bathroom, naked.

The big bastard came strutting out of the john like he knew she was going to be eyeing him up the way a junkyard dog eyes up a nice, fresh, juicy steak.

Goddamn Larry didn’t fucking look like that, naked, no he goddamn well didn’t.

Sally shook her head, disgusted with herself.

“What the fuck is the matter with me? What am I, some bobby-soxser with Eddie’s picture on her bedroom wall? Christ!”

She looked at her watch and she was nervous.

What the hell she was nervous about, she didn’t know, but she jumped a mile when the heavy knock on the door came.

Sally cursed herself for feeling weak in the knees as she got up and answered it.

It was Eddie, and he had a goddamn suit on, and his hair combed back with oil.

His face had healed up fast, and his teeth had stayed put.

“Hiya, Sal.”

“Hiya, Eddie.”

She looked both ways before she shut the door, and closed the blinds.

“I don’t think anybody’s gonna see us this far up in the air.”

“You never know. I don’t wanta take no chances. Get your fuckin’ dogs off my table, fa Chrissakes!”

He was sitting there with his feet on her expensive table, leaning back on her expensive chair, smoking his stinky cigar and smirking, same old Eddie.

“You gonna make me?”

“Fuck it. It’s Larry’s table, anyway. I was gonna cook something, but then I remembered, I’m a lousy cook.”

“That’s okay, Sal. I ain’t hungry.”

He got up out of the chair.

The last time he had touched her, the only time he had touched her except for that shameful drunken grope in the bar, he was brutal and rough and terrifying, and it scared her to think he was maybe some sicko, always brutal and rough and terrifying.

Maybe he was going to try and beat her up again, maybe that was how he got his rocks off.

As much as she wanted him, she was afraid for him to touch her again and she stiffened up as he approached her, closing her eyes and biting her lip.

“Hey, Sal?”

He was talking to her in the tone of voice he’d used, all those years ago, when he was putting his kid sister to bed.

Sally opened her eyes.

“Ya still afraid of me?”

“A little.”

“Sal, I ain’t gonna hurt you. I promise. I ain’t no sick freak.”

“I believe you, Eddie.”

“I never meant ta hurt youse in the first place.”

“I know.”

He held her hard, and he held her fast, and he kissed her almost desperately, but there was no brutality in it.

Eddie’s shoulders were broader than his suit, and she could feel the muscles in his back and his arms through the fabric, along the strained seams.

And although he had washed and washed and washed she could still smell him, cigar smoke and beer and sweat, honest sweat and this deep musky smell that had been making her feel molten since 1940.

He felt like a man should feel, smelled like a man should smell, and she could feel the heat rising into her face.

Lust rushed in where from where fear had suddenly gone.

“Jesus, Eddie, what a fuckin’ man you are.” She told him.

He didn’t say anything but he had this look on his face, this very un-Eddie sort of look.

They had both worn complicated clothes and wished they hadn’t, because they had to be removed carefully.

Eddie was so careful, very careful as he laid her down on the bed with its usually cold sheets and he still had that very un-Eddie look on his face when he said what he said.

“I’m sorry I hurt ya, Sal. I love you, ya know that, don’tcha?”

“Say it, again.”

“I love you.”

“Do you really, Eddie? I mean, really?”

“Yeah. Really. Honest to God, Sal, if a guy like me can still swear on His name, I love you.”

He was about to kiss her again, and then she said the word he least wanted to hear.

“Eddie, wait.”

“Sal, Jesus, don’t do this to me!”

“I gotta tell you something first, Eddie. I’m not the girl you fell in love with. Maybe you were a rotten kid and you grew up to be a bad man, but I became a dirty, drunken fuckin’ whore. I drink all the goddamn time. An’ I cheat on Larry with other guys. Lots of guys. Guys I don’t even know. Just because they’re fans of mine. You still love me, Eddie? Even though I’m a rotten, lousy, dirty…”

Sally couldn’t help it, she started to cry.

Tenderly, gently, Eddie held her in his arms and comforted her.

“Don’t cry, Sal. Jesus, don’t cry. Ya didn’t do nothin’ wrong. Jesus, it’s just fucking. You know the kinda things I done in my life? The kinda things it’s my job to do? My God, Sal, I killed my own father with my bare hands, and a whole lotta criminal pieces of shit like him the same way since. And during the war, Jesus, if it was a Kraut or a Jap and it moved you killed it, or else it woulda killed you. An’ even after all that, even after what I tried to do to youse, you lemme have another chance, an you think because you did a little fucking and drinking, I ain’t gonna love you no more? Jesus, Sal, you’re the only good thing ever happened to me in my whole piecea shit fuckin’ life. I’ll love you till the day I die.”

Sally’s mind was reeling.

After all these years, was this love?

Real love?
From a man like Eddie Blake?

Why not?

Some people go their whole life without ever really loving anyone, or really being loved.

“I love you, too, Eddie. I must be out of my fucking mind, but I love you, too.”

She reached for him to kiss him, again, and she didn’t feel like she was doing something horrible or shameful, anymore, because she forgave him, and now, everything was alright.

He was kissing her neck, and cupping her breasts in his hands; rolling her nipples between his long fingers.

“Show me Eddie. Show me all the ways you love me.” Sally moaned.

She tangled one hand in his thick, dark hair and put her arm around his broad shoulders, arching off the bed as he kept kissing her, sucking her nipples and teasing them with his tongue, he was so hungry for her, she’d never been with a man who was so hungry for her.

Then he was kissing her rounded belly that she was so damned ashamed of, and then her thighs.

She drew herself up higher onto the pillows, trying to guide his head with her hand.

He laughed.

“Please Eddie, please…”

“You think you gotta beg me, doll?”

She wanted to open her eyes and look at him but she just couldn’t, and she knew she was moaning, shamelessly and all kinds of terrible, dirty things were on the tip of her tongue while he was, well, he was doing that thing to her.

“Don’t…don’t, Eddie…stop. I’m going to…to…”

“You’re gonna what, baby? You’re gonna come in my mouth? That’s what I want. Come for me, baby…c’mon…”

Did he really say that?
Could she really just give herself up to such shameless lust?

You bet your ass.

She let go of him and grabbed a fistful of sheet in either hand, arching off the bed with a veritable roar.

Her eyes were open now, and she was looking at Eddie, reaching for him, running her hands all over his body, pulling him down on top of her.

Shamelessly.

She reached between them and put her hand around his cock, and it was long and thick and hard, like she thought it would be and she soaked up the growling, rumbling moan he made like it was music to her ears.

“Oh God, I want you. I want you to fuck me.” She moaned.

“Do you, baby?”

“Yes…oh, yes.”

He kissed her again and she didn’t care where his mouth had been as he slowly pushed his cock into her, almost hesitantly, like he was afraid he was going to hurt her.

That reminded her too much of Larry.

He was so awed by her he could hardly ever get it up for her and when he did he screwed her like he was a guest in an expensive hotel trying not to make too much of mess in the room he couldn’t afford.

“More, Eddie…more…not like that.”

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Sal.” He gasped.

“You won’t. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“I mean it, doll…Like this?”

He thrust into her, hard, fast and deep.

Sally gasped.

“Like that! Like that! Don’t stop! Don’t stop!” she fairly screamed.

He wasn’t about to.

She had her arms around him, she had her legs around him, and she was moaning and keening and gasping and the headboard of the bed was knocking against the wall and she pushed back against him and squeezed him inside her, she was willfully, shamelessly fucking Eddie Blake for all she was worth, sweating like a pig and howling like a beast and coming like a freight train, and she didn’t care, she didn’t care at all.

“Oh shit, honey, you are so fuckin’ hot, you’re gonna make me come so hard…”

She had her legs almost around his shoulders and Eddie had one arm under her and he grabbed hold of one of the slats on the bed with the other and pushed into her harder and faster, a rumbling groaning roar building up in his deep chest that he let out as he let go, taking her over the top with him, one more time.

Sally collapsed into the mattress and Eddie collapsed on top of her, briefly, before rolling over onto his back.

“Fuck me, that was worth the wait. God damn, woman, no wonder your bush is red! Shit!” he exclaimed.

Sally wondered if he would want her close to him, she nudged over a little, hesitantly, and Eddie hauled her into his arms.

“You know something, Eddie? I feel better than I have for years. I’m happy and I don’t give a damn.”

He yawned.

“Me too, doll.”

“Hey? You mean after all these years all I get is one screw and you’re going to sleep?”

Eddie laughed so hard he almost fell out of bed.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Sally insisted.

“You are. Sal, you fucked my goddamn brains out. Lemme close my eyes for a few minutes, willya? Don’t worry. I ain’t done with you. Shit, I have not yet begun to fuck. I may be a bad man and an evil sunnuvabitch, but when I go to bed with a woman, she goes to bed tired and wakes up smilin’.”

“You better not just be blowing your own horn, Eddie.”

“Naah, that’s up to you, Sal.”

***They did end up having dinner, later, much later, Eddie went into the kitchen and cooked something and they didn’t even get dressed to eat and ended up back in bed.

He wasn’t just blowing his own horn, the man was relentless, and inexhaustible, built like a bull and hung like a stallion, and he was very, very good and she liked it.

So much she was knew she should have been ashamed how much she liked it, but she wasn’t.

“Ya want me to stay, tonight?”

What the hell am I doing, naked in bed with Eddie Blake, lying here with my head on his chest and his arms around me, after what he tried to do to me? What right does he have, after what he tried to do to me to be so goddamn good in the sack, to make dinner for me, to ask if I want him to spend the night?

My own husband never told me he loved me, and I sure as hell don’t love him.

“That would be nice, Eddie. Nobody else does.”

“Does what?”

“Stay the night with me. Like I toleja, I sleep around on Larry alla time. I have to. Not here, though. In hotels. I make ‘em go out and buy rubbers cos I don’t trust ‘em, my fans, and when I’m done, I leave.”

She felt Eddie shrug.

“So? I do the same thing. But with broads. I mean, like I said before, that prick you married, it’s obvious he wouldn’t have a cock unless he bought a fuckin’ rooster. And when ya got people pantin’ after you and they want it, they want it bad, they want it alla time, whaddya gonna do? Be like fuckin’ Superman and light and a candle inna church an’ pray for deliverance, or take cold showers or whatever he does? I wouldn’t touch the kinda broads who run after me without a rubber, that’s for fuckin’ sure. And I sure wouldn’t bring ‘em into my house. I got kids livin’ there, yunno? Except I gotta place uptown where I take ‘em. You oughta look into it. It’s cheaper than always goin’ to hotels.” He replied.

Sally laughed.

“You gotta funny way of seein’ things, Eddie.”

“I see things the way they really are. The funny thing is the way everybody else sees ‘em. You oughtta getta divorce, an just go enjoy your life. Ya only live once, Sal, and you’re dead a long time.”

“So, I guess you still got your brothers and sister at home.”

“Not all of ‘em. Ruth’s a teacher now, at PS 142. This is her first year. She left right after the war. Mickey moved out this year, he became a cop. In the neighborhood, in Bensonhurst. He don’t live too far away. Jimmy’s probably goin’ to college, he’s still in high school, an’ he’s still at home. So’s Ellie. She’s only in the seventh grade.”

“Eddie Blake, family man. What about your older sisters?”

“They’re still with the Russian. He never married either of ‘em, but, hey, who gives a fuck, right? As long as they’re all saying on the straight and narrow. Edie’s pregnant this year with their first kid, Aggie tells me next year it’s her turn. Soon, I’m gonna be Uncle Eddie. Everybody’s happy.”

“You did good, Eddie.”

“I did the best I could, considerin’ the way we came up. None of us went to jail. None of us is a piece of shit criminal. None of us ended up in the bughouse.”

“Like I said, you did good, Eddie.”

“Yeah. I guess I did.”

***

Eddie rallied for one more encore in the morning, and he made one more meal for her, and then he took a shower and put his suit back on.

He lingered as long as he could, and then, around noon, he left.

“Hey, don’t be a stranger for the next eight years, Eddie. Call me, okay?”

“Sure, Sal. I’ll callya.”

He got that look on his face, that un-Eddie look, again.

He opened the door, he kissed her goodbye and he was gone.

Sally Jupiter closed the door, and for the first time she counted up how many times she and Eddie went at it, and she realised she didn’t have her diaphragm in, and she didn’t make Eddie wear a rubber.

She trusted him.

Even before the curse didn’t come at the end of the month, even before she started whoopsing her cookies every morning, even before her waistline started to thicken and the doctor told her to stop smoking and quit drinking for a few months, she was going to be a mother, Sally knew.

Eddie came to her retirement party, despite the dirty looks, and there was a picture of that party that said it all.

Sally was standing up, her six-month belly sticking out in front of her, and Eddie sat beside her, looking at her with a proud smirk on his face and his smoldering stogie in his mouth, with Larry on Sally’s other side, looking pissed-off as Sally ignored him.

While they were eating, under the table so nobody could see, Eddie kept putting is hand on her belly and patting her.

It almost made her cry.

They had a few moments before everybody left, just a few moments of Eddie in his mask and his frayed fatigue pants and his army undershirt, a moment where he put his big hand on her big belly and left it there.

“I can feel her movin’ around, Sal. She’s gonna be a real spitfire. Just like you. An’ me. I mean, I did do, that, right?”

“Well, it sure as fuck wasn’t Larry. How do you know it’s gonna be a girl?”

“You can tell by the way she lies. My Ma spent her whole life pregnant, I know about this shit. So, whaddya wanna do? Y’wanna ditch pencil-dick, and move in with me an’ the kids?”

Sally just looked at him.

He was serious.

Sally wanted to say yes.

He would probably never marry her, or quit fucking around with other women, or drinking, and they’d probably scream at each other all the time and she’d end up throwing things at him every night while he laughed at her, but then again Sally wasn’t so sure she liked Larry and quiet and the pretence of monogamy, anyway.

Eddie had raised his family to turn out pretty well; he kept his brutality and his violence out of his home; he might not have been the Father of the Year, but, then again, she wasn’t exactly Little Miss Housewife, either.

And every night they were together could be like that day in her apartment.

And she loved him, she really did, and he loved her.

But that thing he did, that terrible, unforgivable thing, maybe she could forget about it for a day.

But to bear Eddie’s weight, and the weight of his love and his craziness, to bear it every day?

To ask their child to do the same?

For a lifetime?

“Eddie, I’d like to say yes. But, we’d never make it.”

“Yeah, I thought so. It’s prob’ly for the best. I mean, the kids, after what they came up with, I’m not so bad. They got a house and a dog and clean clothes and food on the table and whatever else they gotta have. I never hit ‘em with my fist, or with my hands, even. The old wooden spoon for when they get outa line. But they all smoke, and they all curse, and they’re a pretty rowdy bunch, even the girls. I’m alright, but I ain’t no Father of the Year. Kid’s better off without me.” He said.

“It’s not that, Eddie. It’s me. You and me, if we lived together…I dunno.”

“Yeah, I know, Sal. Hey, don’t be a stranger. Call me, okay?”

“I will, Eddie. I will. I promise.”

“Hey Sal?”

`“Yeah, Eddie?”

“Ya know I still love you, right?”

He still had his hand on her belly.

“Yeah, Eddie. I know.”

Sally put her hand over his hand, and smiled.

“She’s gonna be just like us when she grows up. Only better.” Sally promised.

“Yeah. Better.” Eddie replied.

Afterword: Bensonhurst, 1949

I: Sally

Sally didn’t call him, first.

She just dressed Laurie and packed her into the car and drove to Bensonhurst.

It was the middle of the day; and when Eddie came to the door he was still in his bathrobe.

“Hiya, Eddie. I…I thought you oughta get to see her.”

Laurie was almost a year old; she had started walking at six months, and Sally hadn’t been able to stop her, since.

As soon as she unstrapped her from the stroller, Laurie pushed herself out and started to make a beeline for the kitchen, but Eddie expertly headed her off at the pass.

“Whoa, there, Laurie! Where are you going?”

He had that look on his face, again, that un-Eddie look.

He picked her up, and Laurie just looked at him, fascinated.

“Thirsty.” She told him, and pointed at the kitchen.

“She talks already. A lot.” Sally explained

“Yeah, we’re like that in my family. You don’t wanna know what my first word was. C’mon, kid. We’ll getcha a glass of milk.”

Sally was nervous, with Laurie in Eddie’s arms; her heart was in her mouth.

She reminded herself that he had helped to raise his entire family; he was no stranger to babies, or small children; but Sally knew just how violent Eddie was and what an animal he could be.

Let him go.

This is all the time with his daughter he’s going to get.

Sally went into the kitchen, and Laurie was sitting on the counter, drinking a glass of milk, staring at Eddie with big brown eyes.

She finished her milk and put the glass down.

Eddie picked her up again.

“You know who I am, honey?” he asked.

Laurie shook her head.

“I’m your Daddy.”

“Eddie!”

“What? She’s not gonna remember any of this.”

Laurie gave her father a quizzical look, and turned to her mother.

“Give her back, Eddie.”

“Here yuh go. Lemme get dressed. We’ll go to the park.”

***

It was a nice little park, within walking distance, with a nice, clean playground and plenty of benches.

Lots of little kids playing on the playground; women with babies in strollers, that kind of thing.

One of them looked pretty familiar.

Eddie’s sister, Edie.

The baby boy in her stroller looked to be about the same age as Laurie, and whenthe baby he saw Eddie, he smiled and reached for him.

“Hiya Edie. Sal brought Laurie to the park. I seeya Paulie. I ain’t lettin’ you out. You’ll run alla way to Manhattan.”

The first thing Sally blurted out to Edie Blake was an apology.

“What? Oh, don’t worry about it. Is this my niece? She looks just like you.”

Sally didn’t stop Edie from picking Laurie up.

“I think she looks like Eddie.”

“No, my Paulie looks like Eddie. He’s only a year old, and he makes the same goddamn faces. How old’s Laurie? About ten months?”

“Eleven.”

They all sat on the bench together, all three of them, talking about nothing in particular.

Laurie was trying to get out of her stroller, and Paulie showed her the latch.

They were both off like a shot, and Eddie caught them both, one with each hand.

He gave Paulie back to Edie, but held onto Laurie.

“You gotta watch these two. Well, I gotta coupla things I gotta do, today. I’ll see ya later, Edie. Paulie too. Hey Paulie, stay outa trouble, huh, kiddo? Thanks for bringin’ Laurie around, Sal.”

It was hard for Eddie to hand his daughter over, harder still for Sally to watch, as Laurie’s little fist detached from where she was clinging to his coat.

Did she know who he was?

Eddie looked like he was going to say something, but then he just turned around, lit a cigar, and started to walk away.

“Bye-bye!” Paulie yelled after him.

“Bye-bye!” Laurie echoed.

Sally felt her heart breaking; it was killing her, watching him walk up the street in his usual way, playing it off like it was nothing.

You know he has a heart.

You think his heart isn’t breaking, right now?

Goddamn you, Eddie, how come you have to hide that glimmer of gentleness under being such a bad, mean, rotten son-of-a-bitch.

Sally wiped the tears from her face, angrily.

“Edie, I…”

“Don’t tell me about it. I know my own brother.”

“Yeah, but, look, I don’t have any other family. Neither does Laurie. Just you, Eddie’s family. It doesn’t seem right that Laurie shouldn’t know her family. Even if she doesn’t know they are her family. Her and your little Paulie seem to get along. It’s a nice park. I think I’ll bring her here.”

“That’s a good idea. So, who cleans your house?”

“Me. And I’m a lousy housekeeper.”

“Well, I work for a lot of masks. I don’t put my nose where it don’t belong, and I can get you references. And, if you gotta go out, I can sit for Laurie. I don’t work nights.”

“I don’t need references. Thank you, Edie.”

Edie shrugged.

“Least I can do. He’s not all a bad man, you know.”

“I know, Edie. So, you wanna get the kids some ice cream? I feel adventurous, today.” Sally said.

Edie Blake laughed.

“Sure. Why not?”

The two women stood up, and pushed their strollers away from the park, and across the street to the ice cream truck.

Author's Note: Want to know what happens next? Look for the sequel, I Can't Quit You Baby, under Comics-Watchmen- Edward B./Sally J.
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Born Under A Bad Sign