Quagmire: Day 5

Word Count: 30,024

Summary of Events:

Jesse wrote a long piece for the paper, and so decided to take it in early; the only other person awake was Georgia, whom he brought along — which caused his mother to react angrily, and that led him to get upset in return. Jesse was wandering around looking for a story and decided to check out that house he'd ended up meeting the gangster in front of the first time; he went around to the backyard and had to hide under the stairs when one of the gangsters came outside, but they discovered his hiding place . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Three guns cocked.

"Get out of there, and don't try any tricks," the first voice ordered.

Jesse slowly crawled out from under the stairs and looked at the man to whom the first voice belonged. His face was severe and hard-edged. He had blue eyes almost as light as Ma's and a jagged scar running down his right cheek.

"What is your name?" he demanded.

"Of no consequence to you," Jesse replied.

He smirked. "That's a good one."

Jesse kept his expression set and said nothing.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Standing in the rain staring at you," Jesse replied.

"You're pretty witty aren't you?" he asked.

Jesse said nothing.

"How'd you get in?" he asked.

"How do you think?" Jesse asked.

"You reached over the fence and opened the gate," he said.

"No, I flew over," Jesse replied.

He exhaled almost like a chuckle. "Do you know who I am?"

"No, but I can tell you're Irish," Jesse replied.

"Oh really?" he asked, looking annoyed. "And what do you have to say about that?"

"Nothing," Jesse replied. "No one says anything nice to me about it."

"And what does that mean?" he asked.

"I'm Irish too," Jesse replied. "Mostly."

"And what's the rest of it?" he asked.

"English," Jesse replied.

"I'd like to know how that happened," he said.

"A tryst," Jesse replied.

"That explains why you don't look terribly Irish," he said.

Jesse shifted his jaw and glared at the man, but said nothing. The fact that he didn't have red, or even reddish, hair spared him a lot of prejudice — as did the lack of an O' in front of his surname — and being as the prejudice he suffered was bad enough, he wasn't going to complain.

"But common nationality aside, I am Redmond Fylan," he said.

Jesse waited for him to say more.

"That name doesn't strike fear into your heart," Redmond said.

"Why should it?" Jesse challenged. "I said I don't know you."

"You haven't even heard of me?" Redmond asked.

"Obviously not if your name doesn't frighten me," Jesse replied. "Not to say that I'm easily frightened or anything."

"Well, I am one of the toughest men in the city of Chicago," Redmond said. "I even shot and killed my own father in cold blood."

Jesse said nothing. He felt more reviled by that than frightened.

"I have killed so many men that even I have lost count," Redmond said. "And I don't spare my fellow Irishmen either."
Jesse still said nothing.

"The only men I don't kill are the men that don't cross me," Redmond said. "You have crossed me. However, if you have some legitimate reason for coming down here and hiding behind those stairs I might be inclined to spare you."

Jesse kept his gaze fixed on Redmond's eyes. He really had no idea what to say to get himself out of it."