The Celts (West Side Story: Riff X Reader)

Chapter 10

(This chapter is back in Liza's first person perspective.)

At exactly noon, the entire Celt gang marched onto Jet terf to meet Riff and his guys, who were already there waiting for us. When we approached, Riff took a puff from his cigar and met us in the middle of the area. 

"You keep coming back." Riff said in a tired though threatening voice, nose-to-nose with Ronan. "Are you in love with me or something? I mean, no judgement, but I already got a girl."

"Shut up, Riff." Ronan said. "You know why we're here."

"You just can't get enough, can you?" Riff asked, taking a draw from his cigar. With the smoke still in his lungs, he rubbed the foot of his cigar in the dip that fell between Ronan's collarbones and the base of his neck. Ronan did not show any sort of reaction despite the sudden heat, but he grimaced in disgust when Riff blew the smoke back into his face. 

"Are you done?" Ronan asked, obviously stifling a choked cough. Both gangs then watched as Riff leaned into Ronan's hear and breathe something that caused all the color to drain from Ronan's face and sent the Irishman's fist into the New Yorker's gut. Riff did not immediately retaliate. A grin twisted across his face and he flexed his shoulders.

"Okay, so we're doing this." Riff said with a strained laugh in his voice. Without another moment of thought, he swung and landed his knuckles square in Ronan's face, sending him reeling. Blood splattered against the dusty ground and a huge fight ensued. Dave pushed me and Nettie to the left of the brawl, since the Jets—including me, since I did pull a knife on Riff himself just days prior—are notorious for carrying sharp weapons. And that was disturbingly correct. In fact, I had not noticed the handle of a dagger sticking out of his pocket. The dagger ended up piercing the space above Ronan's abdomen and just below his ribcage. He fell to the floor, blood pooling around him. Riff spat on Ronan's dying body and slammed the heel of his foot into the Celtic man's groin and twisted it into the floor. Ronan's face, which was already plagued with pain, soured in utter agony. The fight lulled and Ronan died. All but three Celts fled the brawl. Me, Nettie, and Dave stayed. Upon seeing Ronan's dead body, all the Jets slunk away. Riff stayed.

"This was not supposed to be a real fight." I said to Riff, face pale with anguish. My fist landed on Riff's chest, but he didn't move. His face was dark and empty. 

"Elizabeth," He said in a quiet voice.

"Riff, you just killed our guy." I said sharply, throwing another punch at him.

"Elizabeth." Riff repeated, voice firm this time. He grabbed both of my wrists

"What?" I asked. I was shrill. Riff brought his face to my own and whispered in my ear.

"Liza, if you had seen what that man did to your sister this morning, you would have done it yourself." He hissed.

"What do you mean?"

"Ronan defiled Nettie in an alley this morning." Riff said, eye stone-cold and face stoic. "I saw it."

"You saw it?" I gaped. I then turned toward my sister, who's face was drained of color though taut. She and Dave were tightly holding hands. 

"You know what?" She said in a surprisingly bright voice. "We're going to go so that you guys can duke this out, yeah?" Without any input from me, Dave, or Riff, she turned and left with the boy in tow. 

"Come on." Riff said, grabbing my own hand and taking me to his place below the deserted deli. A single lightbulb lit the entire room up. "Ask away."

"Why didn't you stop it?" I asked.

"Because he could have panicked and done something even worse to her."

"Why didn't you find him when he left her alone?"

"Because punishing him for what he had done would be more painful if it was done in front of people who trusted him than in private, where nobody would know about his crime."

"The Celts are probably gonna be disbanded now that Ronan's out." 

"Yeah, I like how that worked out." Riff said as he held a metal lighter to a new cigar. "That wasn't my intention, but it ain't the worst thing ever."

"I should go and find Nettie." I said after a moment of pondering. I stood up and he followed the movement.

"Hold on." He said before wrapping me up in a short kiss. We then left the old deli and headed towards the abandoned apartment building. Rather than slinking along in the shadows of the alleyways like we had previously done, we walked out in the open. This was definitely not done to make a statement, but just because we would reach the general terf of the Celts.

We got to the entrance of the apartment building in a matter of about ten minutes, which was when Riff and I crashed right into Clanner, who was storming out of the building with a white bag slung over his shoulder. 

"Where are you going?" I asked sharply, taken aback by his abrupt departure.

"Why do you care?" He asked, venom dripping from his raw voice.

"We're friends."

"You're a traitor, Liza." Clanner said. He held my eye contact for an scathing amount of time. Of course he was hurt, my Friend™ just killed the man that took us all away from the trouble we faced in Ireland. 

"Clanner—" I started.

"My name is Declan." He said before pushing past me and walking in a pointless direction, disappearing into the dull shadows of a nearby alleyway.

"Well, it looks like you were right about the Celts being disbanded." Riff said quietly. I nodded and the two of us continued inside the apartment building. 

It was absolutely devoid of life. Everybody had already left, including my sister, who had left a a note on the cracked countertop:

Dear Liza,
I am going to New Jersey with Dave, Fifi, and Vinnie. New York just really wasn't the place for us. I will be safe and in touch. My understanding is that Riff lives under a deli, so please ask him to look out for letters addressed to you. That is where I will be sending them. You're going to make a great Jet. Be safe, Liza. I've heard that those Sharks are brutal.
Yours truly,
Yours, truly.
~Antoinette.