Joey doesn't sneak out to meet AJ, because he doesn't like sneaking, and it's not like Alex' boys aren't monitoring everything, anyway, but he definitely walks stealthily.
He left Baby sleeping on JC's chest. JC didn't ask him where he was going. Joey's worried about JC. He's worried about Chris, too; Chris was just pacing his room, muttering to himself, and it took over half an hour of cajoling before he sat down and let JC clean the deep scratches on his knuckles.
He's worried about Justin, too, and that's why he's standing in a side tunnel so low he has to duck his head, and he's left a message for AJ on the number AJ told him to never use unless he wanted his balls cut off.
He wishes he was limber enough to kiss his balls goodbye.
He's ready to start pacing, himself, but he leans against the wall and relaxes. He blinks and turns his head, and AJ's standing not ten feet from him.
"Talk fast, Joe-Bob," he says.
"Look, I'm sorry--" Joey starts, but AJ holds up a hand.
"Don't be sorry, talk fast. Time's a-wasting."
"Right. Uh. This friend of mine got busted a few weeks ago, and I wouldn't have come to you, but it's starting to look sort of--"
"So what makes you think I'd help you?"
Joey figures this is where it counts, and he tries his best to look unfazed, but AJ's outlined against the dirty orange light streaming in dusty rays from the larger tunnel behind him, and even though Joey's never been afraid of him, he's always known to walk soft and stay non-confrontational.
"You're the only one I could turn to on this," he says. "Had to give it a shot."
"Who got busted? Mean that much to you, he your boy or something?"
"Chris' boy," Joey says, "Justin. Someone sold him out. It might be too late already."
There's a silence, and then AJ relaxes minutely, chuckles roughly. "Don't think your Chris' gonna want his boy back, anyway."
Joey bites his teeth together for a second, takes a deep breath and says, "Chris will always want him back."
AJ quirks an eyebrow, reaches for the pack of cigarettes he has in his chest pocket.
"You can't light that in here," Joey reminds him; this is standard. He's said that a million times, and every time, AJ shrugs and puts the cigarette back in the pack.
This time he puts the cigarette in his mouth, instead, almost nervously. Not nervous, Joey thinks, not nervous; pissed off.
"I guess Chris is a sucker."
Joey thinks about Chris, about Justin, about how Chris gets nervous when Justin's not in the room, about Chris without Justin: cranky, edgy, so very, very angry. "He's gonna try anyway. He's gonna kill himself trying. You gotta--"
He's forgotten, somehow, just how fast AJ moves, panther-sleek and so fast Joey can only blink in helpless surprise, even though he's hardly surprised once he gets a second to think about it. He jerks backwards and bangs his head against the wall, and AJ's a coiled spring of deadly intent, and Joey knows what AJ can do with that switchblade; he's been around to wash the stains away more than once.
"I don't think you should demand things of me, Joe-Bob," AJ says softly, no more than a cigarette-roughened whisper in Joey's ear. Joey closes his eyes and stays absolutely still. He doesn't think AJ wants to kill him, but then again, AJ's never been predictable.
"Chris is my friend," Joey says slowly.
"This is where you lose me, buddy."
"Who do you think makes sure there's food for Baby? We take care of each other."
AJ backs off as quickly as he'd attacked, click of the switchblade retracting and then he's standing three feet away and Joey sags against the wall, lets out a breath.
"One day I'm gonna light this here and we'll all blow sky high," AJ says and replaces the cigarette in his mouth. Joey can't say where he kept it while he was pressing a knife against Joey's throat. AJ's just full of little tricks like that. "Okay, Fatone. Just give me a good reason."
Joey shrugs helplessly. AJ cocks his head; with his sharp eyes fixed on Joey, he looks a little like a curious blackbird. "It could be fun," Joey says.
When he gets back, JC's asleep on his bed with his arm around Baby. Joey lets them be; neither wakes up when he turns and goes outside again.
"Who did you meet?" Chris asks him. He's standing in the tunnel outside, pinched face and dark-ringed eyes, but humming like a live wire, brimming with nervous energy. And anger. Always the anger. The bandaged hand is curled into a tight fist that must hurt like hell.
"Family," Joey says and gives Chris the slip of grimy paper AJ wrote the coordinates on. "He'll arrange a distraction."
He doesn't tell Chris that AJ laughed gleefully and said, "It's time for some bloodshed, anyway. Rape, riot, rage, revolution, baby." Or that he added, just before he left, leaning down over Joey, eyes still a little post-coitally glazed, "I don't take responsibility for the kid's condition. You know how it goes."
"A distraction?" Chris says.
"We'll just walk right into the basement and pick up the kid, walk right out."
It sounds really simple. "Walk right out," Chris says.
"Yeah," Joey says.
"Are you gonna-- You don't have to come."
Joey looks around, back towards his room, sleeping JC and sleeping Baby curled together like a stray cat with her kitten.
"I'm going even if you don't come--" Chris says, and Joey says,
"What about him?"
"He'll come, but."
Yeah, but. JC is less scary than a stray cat; there are pedigree lapdogs more threatening. "I guess. I have to, um."
Baby whimpers in her sleep, gurgles and whimpers, and JC hums softly and she falls silent again. Joey wants to lift her out of JC's arms, because she's his, she's a part of him, and JC can't keep her safe.
Chris is staring at him. Joey can meet his eyes because he knows no one else can take care of Baby; if he didn't love her and protect her, nobody would. Not Chris, with his pretty, strange obsession; not JC with his uptown boy.
"Yeah, okay," Chris says. "It's okay. D said he'd help. Whatever that meant. It's not like we're going to war."
"Okay," Joey says and goes to wake JC.
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