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“Any minute now that carriage will round the corner and we can begin,” Sticky Fingers whispered to Moody Blues.
They were both knelt behind a boulder a little ways from the road. The setting sun provided long, dark shadows to hide two grown men from passersby. Not that it truly mattered, not a soul had traversed this road for many hours. There wasn’t a more perfect setup for a robbery.
But still, something could go wrong at any time. “Remember, if this starts heading south, you need to high-tail it out of here. Don’t wait for me and don’t look back.”
Moody Blues scoffed at him. “And remember what I said: I’m not leaving without you. I won’t let you die standing up, and besides…you’re the only one I got.” A slight blush crept up from under his black bandana and he looked away. “Now pull your mask up, don’t need you gettin’ recognized.”
Sticky Fingers did just that, appreciative of the cloth covering the small smile brought on by his heart skipping a beat. He didn’t have time to think about its meaning. He had a robbery to focus on, their first as a team, and he couldn’t let this go wrong.
“There!” Moody Blues whispered to his partner.
Rounding the corning was an ornate carriage with two well groomed horses pulling it. Even in the fading light, the gold plated B shone brightly. No doubt that these were the rich folk they were after.
“Hope you’re ready for a show,” Sticky Fingers whispered before moving to his place. He cocked his hat sideways to hide his face and stumbled out of the woods. “Help!” he groaned, holding onto his bloody looking side. “Please, I need help.”
The coachman looked at Sticky Fingers before calling back to his master. “Mr. Brando, sir, there’s an injured man on the road. Permission to stop?”
The curtains of the carriage were thrust aside and a man with golden hair and eyes to match, stuck his head out to see. “No. Keep going.”
“Mr. Brando, he’ll bleed out if we leave him here.”
“Father–” A young voice from the inside tried to reason, but was quickly quieted.
“Hush. And what do I care?” Mr. Brando leered. “Leave him. The footman has already been lost, we have no room for stragglers.”
Sticky Fingers was ready to run in front of the carriage to make it stop, but the coachman seemed to be of a better heart than the man within. It pulled to stop before Sticky Fingers.
“Sir,” the coachman called out to Sticky Fingers while he hopped down from his seat, “are you alright? What happened to you?”
Mr. Brando scoffed at the audacity of his driver before flinging the curtains shut again.
Sticky Fingers fell to the ground, like he had no strength left to stand. “A beast attacked me–killed my * hoss . Barely got out of there…”
The coachman kneeled next to Sticky Fingers, but the man didn’t have a chance to check the seriousness of the injuries before a revolver was pressed to his skull.
“Don’t try anything funny or you’ll regret it,” Moody Blues threatened.
The coachman froze. “P-please, don’t hurt me. I-I’m just a coachman.”
“Don’t worry,” Sticky Fingers said and repositioned his hat. “As long as you listen to us, we won’t hurt you. You’re not who we’re after.”
The coachman nodded while Sticky Fingers tied him up quickly.
Moody Blues marched to the golden door and tapped on it with his revolver.
“What! What is going–” Mr. Brando stopped mid sentence, half out of the door and Moody Blues’ gun in his face.
“You’re gonna sit back down now,” Moody Blues commanded.
“Y-yes.”
Mr. Brando glared while he took his seat, positioning himself so that he was between his young son and Moody Blues.
With the coachman tied to the carriage, Sticky Fingers sauntered over to the door. Moody Blues moved just enough for him to slide into the carriage on the opposite side of Mr. Brando and his son.
“Oh my, now don’t you look fancy there, Mr. Brando. Got your * best bib and tucker on! Your boy too. Where are you two fine gentlemen headed?”
“ Sticky Fingers ,” Mr. Brando growled.
“I’m flattered, Mr. Brando, my reputation precedes me.”
“Sticky Fingers?” the young Brando whispered in awe.
Mr. Brando glanced down at his son with a concerned look. “Hush, Haruno.” He turned his glare back to the two hijackers. “Get out of my carriage if you know what’s good for you.”
Sticky Fingers tsked and shook his head. “Oh, Mr. Brando, it’s rather adorable that you think you’re in charge here. Do you forget who has a revolver pointed at ‘em?” Sticky Fingers chuckled.
“What do you want?”
“Straight to the point, I like that. You’re a busy man with places to be. My partner– in crime –and I will be taking everything of value on your person. So, please just make this easy for us and hand it all over. Sound good?”
Moody Blues pulled out a brown burlap sack and motioned his revolver from Mr. Brando to the sack.
“Come on now,” Sticky Fingers encouraged.
“Filthy low-lives,” Mr. Brando grumbled. He loosened his sapphire encrusted bolo tie and dropped it in the bag.
“Is that a Yogo sapphire all the way from Montana? That must have cost ya a pretty penny! It’ll catch a fine price.”
Sticky Fingers watched in glee as Mr. Brando dropped rings, money, and the shiny cufflinks from his suit. He was worried for a moment when the oil baron started undoing his belt, but when Sticky Fingers’ eyes landed on the rhinestone belt buckle, it took everything in him to keep from drooling.
The golden buckle had ‘DIO’ spelled out in rhinestones.
“A little conceited,” Sticky Fingers teased.
Mr. Brando scoffed and crossed his arms. “That’s all I have. Now leave my son and I alone.”
Sticky Fingers paused for a moment before bursting out in laughter. It was a warm laugh, although it was heavy with mockery. “I know you’re lying to me, Mr. Brando. What do you have in those chests on the back–”
“Touch those only if you want to lose your hands.”
“Easy now, Mr. Brando–”
“No! I’ve had enough of you and your * bad egg of a partner. Get out of my carriage and away from my son.” Both of Mr. Brando’s hands were fists at his side and he seemed only moments away from springing on Sticky Fingers.
Moody Blues was quicker. He pressed the gun to Mr. Brando’s temple and leaned in close. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Mr. Brando gulped and sat back, which gave Moody Blues a clear shot to the younger Brando who’s eyes still sparkled with fascination.
“Hey kid,” Moody Blues said with a hidden grin. “If you know what’s good for ya, you’ll tie up your father.” He tossed a coil of rope to the dark haired boy.
The young boy held the rope carefully and looked back up at Moody Blues.
“Haruno, put down the rope.”
“Go ahead kid, tie ‘im up. It’ll be fun.”
There was only a moment of hesitation before Haruno took the rope and wrapped it around his father. The kid even seemed to be excited to do it, although he was doing his best to suppress the glee in his eyes.
“Your son is a mighty fine listener,” Sticky Fingers said.
Mr. Brando grumbled while Moody Blues tested the ropes. “I’ll be a * bally fool , kid tied him up nice and tight. Mr. Brando won’t be causing us much of a problem.”
“Perfect! I’m going to go look through the trunks in the back, keep an eye on them for me, will ya Moody Blues?” Sticky Fingers winked as he slid past the other outlaw.
Their faces came close, if they hadn’t been wearing their masks, they could have kissed. Or at least that was the thought that passed through Sticky Fingers’ mind as he stared into Moody Blues’ beautiful eyes.
“Sticky Fingers?” he whispered.
He gulped before saying, “Yes?”
“We, uh, better get a movin’ before someone wanders this way.” Moody Blues’ voice was soft, but had a sense of urgency to it.
“Right.” Sticky Fingers shook his head, pulling himself out of his dreamy thoughts. “Right, I’m going.”
He was thankful for the mask, besides keeping his identity a secret, it had the blush. He bit his lip as he made his way around to the back of the carriage.
The lock was easy to pick and finding all the valuables within it was even easier. Sticky Fingers made sure to leave Haruno’s stuff alone, just to upset Mr. Brando even more. He wasn’t a fan of the oil baron for a number of reasons.
“Well,” Sticky Fingers said while strapping the final bag on, “I think that’s everything. What do you think, Moody Blues?”
Moody Blues kept his revolver on Mr. Brando’s head while he glanced around. “Looks like you picked everything shiny.”
“Let’s head out then?”
“We better * get our wiggle on .”
“Mr. Brando, you truly do belong to * the first water. You have a good night now, hopefully no one will be too upset that you're late to the shindig you was headed to.” Sticky Fingers mounted his horse and gave her a pat.
Moody Blues followed suit.
Sticky Fingers had to tear his eyes away from his partner, for someone reason the way he hopped on a horse was even attractive–
“Good evenin’ then, Mr. Brando. Haruno.” Sticky Fingers winked to the young boy before he spurred his horse.
“You * chiseler !” Mr. Brando called after. “I will get my revenge on you, I swear it. I’m telling the world that Sticky Fingers is not some Robin Hood anymore, but a lonesome thief with some would-be outlaw.”
Sticky Fingers smiled as he and Moody Blues rode into the woods, that was exactly what he wanted.
The ride back seemed to take forever. Bruno wanted to yell, whoop, anything– anything –to express the feeling of pure excitement. They did it! All the scenarios, the planning, the worry that things would go wrong, but it went perfectly.
Bruno was smiling under his bandana, he hoped Abbacchio was too. It was too dark to see his partner’s face, so Bruno could only imagine what his smile looked like. This was a moment to truly celebrate. Rarely did anything go so well to plan. Hopefully, it was a sign that their future together was promising.
Finally, they crossed the creek that put them on Bruno’s ‘property’. It was a small bit of land that one of the previous gang leaders owned and happened to leave the deed just laying around for Bruno to find one day. It was two acres with a small two bedroom home and a barn. The cellar was just big enough to keep some crates and barrels, but not much else.
It was perfect.
A place for the horses and a roof over his head. Bruno hadn’t lived in something so nice since his father was alive.
Abbacchio led the way to the barn. He slid out of his saddle and opened the creaky barn door for the both of them. Bruno followed and grabbed the reins for his horse and Abbacchio’s, leading them into the barn and to their shared pen.
He’d learned the hard way to not separate Sugar and Biscuit unless he wanted to end up with a broken gate. They were inseparable from the start. Bruno was almost jealous–
The barn door closed behind Bruno. Abbacchio lit a lamp and brought it over, hanging it from the metal hook before he took of his mask. He stared at it and then back to the horses before letting out a sigh of relief.
“We did it.”
Abbacchio’s voice felt loud after the silence, but Bruno finally realized he could speak.
“Abbacchio we did it!” Bruno ripped his bandana off and threw it up. He’d find it later, he just needed to throw something. “Yeah!” Bruno yelled into the darkness of the barn, he knew they were safe from being found.
While Bruno yelled his excitement, Abbacchio handled the horses. They’d work hard today and deserved to rest. He took the saddlebags off first and hid them away under a loose board in the barn.
Bruno was still dancing around in the barn, hootin’ and hollerin’ the whole time. Abbacchio had never seen this side of the outlaw, so carefree and happy. It was a nice break from the serious man who had big dreams.
“Quite the hall we got,” Abbacchio said as he returned to the horses.
Bruno finally reigned in his excitement enough to help Abbacchio. “There’s some real nice things in there. They’re going to catch a fine price.” Bruno plopped Sugar’s saddle on the rack and grabbed her brush. He was so excited that his hands were shaking.
“Do you know where to sell these without causing, uh, problems?”
“I do.” Bruno smirked while brushing Sugar. “Some old contacts from my Passione days–even after I left they still trade with me. They liked my principles.”
“Helping those who need it more?”
“That’s it. And I can’t wait to see how much we can help.”
Abbacchio looked at Bruno from around his horse, a solemn look on his face. “I can finally repay those who have helped me. Miss Higashikata gave me Biscuit because I shoveled the muck out of her barn. She deserves something better than my thanks.”
Moments like this always caught Bruno off guard, Abbacchio didn’t open up often, but when he did it was a beautiful moment. The sharp edges of his face softened and his eyes lit up and Bruno became a pile of mush.
“And Mr. Trussardi for making sure I didn’t go hungry–and the owners of the general store, Mr. and Mrs. Hirose, I wouldn’t have made it very far without ‘em.” Abbacchio paused and glanced at Bruno before continuing in a soft voice. “And you, Bucciarati, I wouldn’t be breathing without you. I don’t even know how I’ll repay you, but I’ll find a pay. I promise.”
“Abbacchio…” It had been many years since Bruno had another person he could trust wholeheartedly. The last person he’d trusted was his father, but Abbacchio sparked a similar feeling within Bruno. But this one felt different–warmer and usually made him feel like he was going to throw up.
Bruno’s heart felt so full that he thought it was going to explode. If he didn’t do something soon, it just might.
So he did.
Bruno grabbed Abbacchio’s dirty, sweaty face and kissed him.
Abbacchio’s lips were softer than Bruno would have guessed, they weren’t sunburned and cracked like his own. The paint on his lips was more protective than Bruno thought, and it had the slightest taste of honey and fruit.
Bruno was sure that his heart had exploded now.
It brought it back to reality and he pulled away. His face burned as the realization hit him like a train.
“Abbacchio–I–” Bruno covered his mouth as he tried to think of an apology or something that could save him from his mistake. “I’m sorry–I think uh–I may be a bit * roostered from the heist still. I acted without thinking–let’s just forget it happened.” Bruno refused to make eye contact with Abbacchio.
During his days with Passione, Bruno saw many people get punched after kissing someone unprompted. He was just waiting for Abbacchio’s fist to hit him, but the blow never came.
Instead, Abbacchio mumbled, “Ya dumb son of a gun,” before he grabbed Bruno’s hat and threw it into the dark. His voice was light and teasing when he wrapped his arms around Bruno and kissed him.
There was barely any room from Bruno to wiggle let alone get away, not that he really wanted to. This was heaven. Especially when Abbacchio cradled Bruno’s face.
Bruno felt more treasured than their bounty under the floorboards. The shock of lips meeting his instead of a fist left him stiff where he stood. The shakiness of the hand on his face let him know he wasn’t the only one who was nervous. He finally let himself lean into the kiss and wrap his arms around Abbacchio’s neck.
It felt all too soon when Abbacchio broke the kiss, but he didn’t pull away. He still held Bruno’s face as he rested their foreheads together. Bruno licked his own lips, enjoying the last bit of taste of Abbacchio on them.
An airy chuckle came from Bruno as he took in the situation.
“What’s so funny?” Abbacchio’s voice was deeper and heavier than usual and Bruno felt the deep base in his soul.
“This–you and I. I…thought you were going to punch me.”
“Punch you?”
Bruno hummed in response. “I’ve seen women hit men for the same. And rightly so.”
“Those were unwanted.”
“So…you wanted to kiss me?” Bruno pulled away just enough to look into Abbacchio’s eyes.
“Did I not make that obvious enough? I can give it another go if you need more convincing.”
Bruno chuckled and bit his lip. “I wouldn’t say no to another.”
His partner in crime had no hesitations about giving in, making Bruno smile into the kiss.
“How long have you felt this same feeling?” Bruno asked between kisses.
Abbacchio paused for a moment, almost like he was nervous about giving his answer. “Pretty much since the beginning.”
“Pardon?”
“You accepted me as I was, never doubting I’d come through for you. It made me feel relaxed–at ease.”
Sugar huffed, as if to remind the two that they weren’t alone in the barn, before she settled right next to Biscuit.
“Would you like to “come be at ease” with me in the house? I think Sugar is telling us to get out.” Bruno wasn’t leaving much room for Abbacchio to disagree. He laced their fingers together and tugged him from the barn.
“Only if you’re promising to make that house a home,” he teased.
Bruno couldn’t hold the laugh in, Abbacchio’s words made him want to make a home with him.
“In our home I’m picturing a brick fireplace, top notch kitchen, and a large, comfy bed. Do those put a *bee in your bonnet ?”
“It’s a good start.”
“Only a good start? I hope you’re ready to join me on a wild ride then, because on top of that I want to get enough money to buy a big ol’ farm away from here. A place where you and I can raise some animals and crops and sell them. Leave the stealing and thievin’ behind us.”
“A place to grow old?”
“Old and happy.”
Abbacchio stopped Bruno on the porch and kissed him once more. “Bruno Bucciarati, you are one hell of a * flannel mouth . I’ll be by your side to achieve that dream.”
And though the moon was high in the sky and he knew he was exhausted, Bruno didn’t catch a wink of sleep that night.
Old West to Modern English
Taradiddles – Lies, myths, or tall tales
Hoss – Horse
Best bib and tucker – Nice clothes
Bad egg – A mean or untrustworthy person
Bally fool – Damned fool
Get our wiggle on – To hurry
Of the first water – Elegant; first class
Chiseler – A swindler or conman
Roostered – To be or to get drunk
Bee in your bonnet – A good idea
Flannel mouth – A smooth talker