A New Way of Living

Chapter Twenty

Riff walked towards the street on which Doc's sat. From the other side he could already see that the rest of the Jets waited for him to act out their plan to disturb the PR territory. 

He seemed to be floating - floating from the night he had spent with Vivienne. He was sure now that she had made her choice, and had chosen him. It was a choice that flooded him with relief and joy. 

When he reached the Jets, he knew it was time to turn on his senses and redirect his attention to the task at hand. He was doing this for them, because the truth was simple: Riff was no longer sure why they were trying to get a rise out of the Sharks.

Things had shifted for Riff since the rumble. Since waking up from what should have been a sleep that lasted forever threw things out of whack for him. The Jets had been gunning for revenge since Riff had been able to stand and walk again. They were desperate to get their hands on the Sharks, especially Bernardo.

After the Sharks had showed up at the gym, it was all they could talk about. Even Riff had to admit, they seemed to be getting a little too comfortable creeping back past the boundaries. 

But the problem was that Riff wasn't sure what he wanted. He was alive, and that seemed enough, at least for now. What the Jets didn't understand, and probably never would, was that it all seemed quite small to Riff now. Perhaps what he wanted was just to exist now - exist with the Jets, with Vivienne, and leave the damn Sharks alone as long as they did the same.

And quite frankly, the further away he could get from Bernardo, the better. 

But of course, he could never say that. The idea of exacting revenge on the Sharks often seemed like the thing that kept the rest of the guys going. All Riff could do was try and temper their rage, try and keep them distracted or limited to small fights, small victories that seemed to quench their thirst. 

But he knew it couldn't last forever. They would want to do something big at some point. Whether that was another rumble or something bigger would remain to be seen, but Riff knew he would cross that bridge when they came to it.

At least tonight, they could focus on the task at hand.

When he reached the Jets, he noted the excitement on their faces as they lingered on the corner.

"Evenin', boys," he greeted. "We all game?"

"Sure thing, Riff."

"Let's do it."

He led them with instructions - they would split up and cover the PR territory quietly and quickly, removing their signage where they could and dumping the evidence in the river. It was a small thing, but sure to throw them off enough over the next few days.

As the Jets split up, he kept Baby John beside him. He had noted Baby John's growth and enthusiasm over the past few months. He wanted him to grow confident and feel that he was earning his place, but he also felt the added responsibility. He wanted to watch out for him.

They made their way through the street, exchanging hushed voices as they climbed up and took down hanging signs, cutting off awnings, and peeling the letters off storefronts. Each time they heard a passing car, or distant sirens, they would freeze in place - waiting for some sign of police intervention.

When an hour or two passed, Ice came up behind him.

"Seems weird, right?" he asked, his voice low. "Was expecting to have ta' make a run for it by now."

"Yeah," Riff agreed. "Maybe Shrank's got some other business to be worryin' about tonight."

"Works for us."