Chapter Text
Chapter One
The rain bore down mercilessly upon the heart of the city, pounding on the rooftops and turning the cobbled streets of the Downtown District into a warren of slick stones and muddy waters. Hard rain triggered memories of the night Cole Phelps was washed away, the terrored look in his eyes, mimicking that terrified stare the same man had on top of Sugar Loaf Hill. It was painful to think about, many of the men Jack Kelso served with were now dead. Cole’s death hit him especially hard, still thinking that perhaps had he done something different Jack could have spared the one good cop in the LAPD.
The click of a lighter brought him back to reality. Where he stood beneath a canopy to protect himself from the rain. A man beside him taking a long drag of a recently lit cigarette turned his gaze to Jack.
“We can’t go after the Suburban Redevelopment fund, Jack --” the man spoke, raising his voice over the downfall of rain and thunder overhead.
Jack returned a skeptical, sideways glance, and his jaw tightened,
“I mean no disrespect, Peterson,” Jack started out, doing his damnedest to keep his composure. “But this city is corrupted, and you’re keeping it that way with some lousy deal?” Jack spoke with disbelief and anger. “You’re collaborating with the very source you desperately wanted to stop, What would Cole Phelps think?”
There was a long sigh, “You were one of the good ones. I thought that maybe you could stay that way.” Bitterness dripped from his tone, he was never really good at concealing how he was feeling.
“You became the District Attorney, congratulations. Now what the hell are you going to do with that power, Leonard.” Cole’s death did nothing to change the town, hell with him alive they could have at least stood a chance against the corrupt cops, the mayor... if they were going to be able to do anything. If he was going to be able to do anything, he’d have to get the new District Attorney back on his side. Which albeit is a lot easier said than done.
“What did they promise you, Leonard?” Jack hissed out above the sound of rain and cars. Eyes glaring back at his recently promoted boss. “Was it money, power?”
Jack didn’t wait for an answer, staring down Peterson with a cold gaze full of distaste and distrust, “You and I both know this isn’t want you wanted. You can’t keep the lid on the drug cartel forever. If this city has any chance, you need to take Mickey Cohen out of the picture, and you know you need to bring down the Vice squad to do that.”
“Kelso-” the man started, his previously lit cigarette, disposed for another. Flicking the lighter a few times before finally getting a decent flame. Obviously taken aback by Jack’s sudden outburst.
Removing the cigarette slowly from his lips after taking a long smooth drag, “I can’t --” Peterson was immediately cut off by Jack,
“Can’t, or won’t?”
There was a long silence in between them, the sound of rain pattering against the plastic canopy filled the air between them. It felt as though the silence lasted for well over a few minutes, when in reality it was merely a couple seconds.
“Even if I did want to help,” Leonard Peterson started again, now ignoring his previously lit cigarette that was held limp between two fingers. “I made a deal with them, if I go back on it now, who knows what will happen to me.” He shot Jack a hard look, dropping the cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his shoe,
“Leonard, if we get enough dirt, you won’t need to worry about all that. All I want from you is your help. If I bring in the evidence, I need you to back me up.” It was now Jack’s turn to stare him down, “We don’t have to save the entire city, Leonard. But if we can fix what’s been wronged maybe that’ll give this city a push in the right direction.” Jack shuddered, taking a mental note that he needed to stop sounding like Cole Phelps.
The silence returned from Leonard was enough for Jack to know that at least he could be reasoned with.
“We’ll take down Vice, and Mickey Cohen,” Jack Kelso placed a hand on Leonard’s shoulder, “maybe that will convince you to actually do your job.”
“I’ll see you in the morning, Peterson,” with that Jack left heading through the rain to step into his car. The rain pounded on the roof as he looked at the time on his wrist watch, squinting in the dark, the only light came from the streetlight that flickered above him. It wasn’t too late, a stop by to check on Elsa seemed like the best way to end the night.
Cole Phelps wasn’t his friend, but they certainly weren’t enemies. Elsa was a beautiful woman and Jack couldn’t bring himself to announce his feelings for her let alone try to be with her. She was Cole’s girl and he respected him and her too much for that.
The Blue Room was just as the name implied, it was blue. Jack had only been there once or twice before, he wasn’t too fond of the atmosphere. It was however just his luck that Elsa was on stage singing by the time he had arrived. Which meant it would be awhile before he’d finally be able to talk to her. Letting out an exhausted sigh as he took a seat at a table after graciously being offered one by one of the servers. He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his hair, eyes scanning the club. About to return his attention back to Elsa, he spotted a familiar man; and he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
Roy Earle.
Their first interaction with one another, Jack had been taken into the back of Roy’s vehicle in front of his apartment like a common criminal, and needless to say their relationship didn’t take off in the right direction.
By the looks of it, the Vice detective was a little preoccupied with something else to take notice of Jack sitting there. Taking a drink from the glass of scotch he had ordered, he watched the detective with a cool gaze, even more intrigued when a man approached him. Someone who didn’t fit into the atmosphere, something about him was off and Jack only grew more and more curious.
The squeak off a bar stool and they were off, walking through the tables towards the back. Jack watched carefully as though not to be obviously watching them. They took a turn into the bathroom, and soon after a man came rushing out. Whose face was pale with fright, fingers barely finishing doing up the zipper on his pants.
Jack furrowed his eyebrows, placing money on the table to pay for his drink. A quick smile to Elsa when she made eye contact before he followed after them.
Maneuvering through the tables looked a whole lot easier when the two men had done it. Maybe due to Jack’s lack of sleep or the few drinks he had prior; but he managed to not bump into anyone’s table. Only near misses and quick apologies. However he didn’t make it too far when a loud bang went off. Like a car backfiring, but Jack knew better. And it was very apparent that the sound came directly from the bathroom where the man and Roy had entered not moments ago, his pursuing interrupted by screaming patrons as many of them made a mad dash for the exit.
“Jesus christ, what the hell did he do?”
Roy swished the ice in his glass and took a swig. He grimaced tasting more water than alcohol. Since when had they started watering down the drinks? Regardless one thing was for certain, once a joint started killing the booze, it wasn’t long before the whole place went tits up.
He slid the empty glass down the bar.
“Hey Louis, another Manhattan, this time give it some backbone would ya?” Roy watched as the bartender nodded and topped up his drink.
“Here you go Mr. Earle”
Roy smiled but it held little warmth and less sincerity.
He Looked around and took in the idle chatter, he wasn’t sure when it had happened but the Blue Room had changed and it wasn’t just the watered down booze, but the mood as well.
Maybe the club had changed owners?
Whatever the reason he wasn’t used to being stuck on a bar stool. Normally they’d take him to a table, a nice dark corner with a good view of the stage. Roy Earle never got stiffed at any bar on the Hollywood strip, at least if they knew what was good for them.
If he planned on sticking around and kicking up his feet, he would’ve made damn sure Alfons got him his usual booth. However he wasn’t here to unload or relax, so the bar stool only seemed fitting for tonight’s visit.
“You Roy Earle?”
Roy swiveled around in his seat. “Depends who’s asking, I could be Carey Grant for all you know”
The man shifted on his feet, visibly thrown back by his retort. “Cut the crap, I put my neck on the chopping block to get here tonight”
“So you’re Ronnie Bednarski, the snitch” Roy placed his glass back on the bar, eyeing the man up again. “Sure as hell look like a rat”
“Would you shut your mouth!”The man hissed but his voice was hushed.
Roy rose and stood, his shoulders and head coming a few inches above the other man’s “ I’d watch yours Bednarski, a snitch is no good dead” He let the threat sink in and watched Ronnie’s pupils dilate. “You want to negotiate a deal? Let's go someplace private”
He led him away from the bar and through a path of zigzagging tables,a few glances were cast their way at their odd dynamic. But Roy kept his posture calm and confident as he swung open the men’s restroom door.
The room was empty with the exception of one locked stall, the last in the row. Roy discreetly leaned forward to find a pair of feet greeting him just beneath the door. He paused for a moment, than in one fully bodied motion, kicked the thing so hard it swung off its hinge. “Beat it chump”
It didn’t take long for the legs attached to the feet to scurry out of the now broken stall, fumbling with belt loops and zippers on their way out the bathroom door.
“Alright Bednarski, let's talk business”
“I know what you did with the broad”
Roy leaned against one of the porcelain sinks beside him. “What broad? There’s a hundred of them in this club tonight”
”You know exactly who I’m talking about Mr. Earle”Ronnie was pointing his finger now, inching closer and closer to Roy. “And I’ll bet you and and half of LAPD would pay a pretty penny to keep that dame under wraps”
“And what makes you think you can threaten me huh?” Roy straightened himself, squaring his shoulders as he did. “I wonder where you got the balls?”
But Ronnie didn’t back down, the shorter man clenched his fists, knuckles turning white. “Enough talk, you tell the rest of your boys that they better pay up or I’ll blow this whole thing wide open” “I want my money Mr. Earle”
Roy sneered and brought his hands up to the inside lining of his sport jacket. “It’s cute really that you’d think I’d stand here and listen you run your mouth, but to tell you the truth, I don’t give a damn”
“Don’t fuck me around, Roy!” Ronnie’s face contorted with anger as he suddenly launched his left fist at Roy, hooking him right in the jaw.
Instantaneous Roy felt the connection and stumbled back into the bathroom wall. His tongue swiped his lip feeling the split the punch had made. “You Rat son of a bitch” Without hesitation Roy drew his colt, aimed and pulled the trigger.