When Tony first walked into Marcel's, the velvet tones of the singer drew him through the hazy air and directly to the stage. The intensity of the voice's expression compelled him to watch the face that portrayed such emotions, and when he cleared the fog, he could see Doris's lovely smile. As usual, Leonard sat staring dumbly at his beautiful fiancée.

"Hey, Leonard!" Tony grinned, and Marcel's eldest son turned to greet his friend.

"You come to steal my girl?" Leonard teased, and Tony responded with an ambiguous look that, if the two had known each other less well, would have engendered a good amount of jealousy in the fiancé.

Before Tony could offer a smart reply, Jerome tapped him on the shoulder.

"So, I guess you've seen it?" Jerome seemed highly tense, and Tony couldn't restrain a bit of compassion.

"Who hasn't?" Tony replied.

"You realize this can't be left alone. If this happened in our neighborhood, we would take care of this ourselves, but we need your help on this one. If Marcel's name is dragged through the mud by association with his brother, my campaign will lose credibility."

"If you're concerned about Marcel's family, then I understand, but your opponent had more acquaintances on the list than you, and I'm pretty sure the public will recognize that fact. Besides, the author writes the story with such sympathy – it was honestly a beautiful piece of work. Surely, that will alleviate a little bit of the fallout."

"Maybe," Jerome agreed, "but my opponent has resources that I can't and won't utilize to counteract any negative publicity."

"Won't?"

"You know as well as I that my opponent's campaign is restrained by few moral objections. They're pretty much willing to use whatever method necessary to get elected. And they have help, because there are some powerful people who need him elected."

"Powerful people," Tony huffed, "Just say what you mean. Your opponent is in bed with - "

"You bite your tongue, boy," Jerome stopped him. "My campaign will not name names. Plus, you never know who's listening, even in here."

At this, Tony glanced around him, not fully believing that anyone in Marcel's would willingly turn against Jerome. Still, Tony had little experience with politics, so he couldn't claim sure knowledge.

"And," Jerome lowered his voice, "what happened to Barry will seem mild in comparison to what could happen if I start playing the same game as the paper: naming names.

Leaning on a bar stool, Tony tried to hear over the romping jazz number that now blared from the many instruments on the nearby stage. Though he could concede to Jerome on politics, he didn't know exactly what to think about the little paper that had caused such a stir. He had seen the list just like everyone else in every neighborhood around the university. No doubt some radical student had gotten in over his head and, through misguided idealism, had named names.

Certain names made Tony's skin crawl, not because he feared the names, but because he feared for the fool who had so publicly linked the Rats to the political powers of St. Louis. Of course, Tony knew of the associations, and so did anyone who kept track of the black-market dealings around town. Still, to state the obvious in print? It cried out for retribution, both from the Rats and from other sources.

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The first part of the paper though? It stirred his own pain, brought back memories that he generally kept suppressed, and it compelled him to help in whatever way he could. Tony already had his mode of upending the establishment that perpetuated damaging policies, but the first few pages of the paper – the story – promised to tug others out of their complacency. Could he really fault the writer? It was as if the paper existed for the writing but someone had stuck the list on the back as an afterthought. Still, the list stole the limelight, which honestly saddened Tony.

"How do you think I can help?" he continued, pulling himself from his thoughts. Though he sympathized with Jerome's frustration, Tony didn't particularly know how he could do anything about it.

"Well, for one," Jerome gazed up at the stage as he spoke, "you can downplay the charges against Barry with the people you know. You know: PR. In my neighborhood, everyone trusts Barry, but he does business outside of this neighborhood, and those people might shun an association with him now."

Tony shook his head. “I don't know the right people to make any difference. My pop might know some people, but he doesn't like to get too involved in politics."

"We don't need him to talk to everyone or to play politics, just converse with some key people." Jerome still didn't meet Tony's eyes, a sure sign of nervousness, and Tony didn't like his friend's evasion. "But you're right. We need you for something more than politics, more in line with your talents. We want you to snoop around a little, see who might be printing this paper. We need to stop them."

The anger in Jerome's tone shocked Tony, and he leaned back to look at his friend. "Stop them?" Tony inquired, not liking the intimations. "I'm not a hired thug, Jerome. I'm not stopping anyone."

If Tony had held any doubt of Jerome's intentions, the surprise on the older man's face eradicated Tony's concern. The older man looked almost hurt by the accusation.

"I would never ask you to do that, Tony. The fact that you would think so makes me wonder how well you know me."

Tony sighed, guilt mixing with relief. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"I just want you to find out who is doing this and see if you can talk some sense into them."

Though he didn't particularly look forward to it, Tony felt competent for the assignment, and he nodded his head in agreement. "I don't know how fast I can get this done, but I'll try, Jerome. Nothing printed in those papers was untrue, and it's hard to persuade some people to withhold the truth."

Jerome pinned his companion with a cold gaze. "There's true, and then there's true. They didn't print the whole truth, and that almost equals telling a lie. If they were going to tell the whole truth, they would have to give a lot more information. They would need to explain how much of a stranglehold the local gangs have on our community. They would have to tell people that Barry Johnston deals with those gangs so that he can fund the underground resistance, use their own funds against them."

Shrugging, Tony conceded the point.

"And, if the people who wrote these articles have good motives, which they seem to have, they wouldn't want to cause damage to innocent men," Jerome continued.

"Fine, Jerome," Tony agreed. "You know I'll help anyway. I'm committed to this thing. I just needed to know what you wanted me to do."

When Jerome looked relieved, Tony smiled.

"I have some ideas," Tony encouraged. "We'll figure this out, and then you'll be elected, and everything will be as it should."

Now it was Jerome's turn to smile. "Thanks, Tony. I can always count on you to help. That's why I accepted you into my campaign."

Tilting his head, Jerome squinted at Tony as if in deep thought. "You're awfully young to be so responsible."

"I'm not responsible," Tony smirked at the characterization. His father and brothers would have actually laughed at the thought. "I just have sense, and I know when I see what's right."

When the trumpet blared only a few feet from Tony's right ear, both he and Jerome turned to watch the band, the men's conversation having drawn to a natural close. Jerome patted Tony on the back before spinning to search for Marcel in the crowd. For Tony, the next few days would no doubt prove interesting whatever he found.