Who Knows || Riff (West Side Story 2021)

Chapter 34

𝟹. 𝙼𝚊𝚢 𝟷𝟿𝟻𝟽

After making a quick stop at their apartment, Rose and Riff were all dressed up for the dance. Though she knew exactly what was happening, she couldn't help but be nervous. These sorts of things were never easy.

"You haven't met Tony before have you, lil' darlin?" Riff asked as they strolled towards Docs.

Rose shook her head, and paused. "Once." It had been a long time ago, perhaps too long for for her to remember the specifics. "Remember the post office?"

"How could I forget? That Allen bugging you all o' the time." He sighed, dancing around a little bit on the street.

Rose leant into his chest. "He's harmless, really."

"Nothing like me, huh." Riff scoffed a little. "That's gotta be why you love me."

"One of the many reasons." She pushed back his mousy hair from his face, and pressed their foreheads together. He freckled nose pushed against her. Then, Rose kissed him, softly.

"What'd I do t' deserve that, Rosie?"

"What didn't you do?"

     Almost immediately, they were lead down to the basement by Valentina. She wanted as little of Riff in her shop as possible. He had sticky fingers, and a habit of not hiding the fact.

     It was dark, and dingy, and cold. Rose didn't like it very much. It felt like a bunker, rather than a home. But this was where he was living. Perhaps, for an ex-convict, it was the best he could do.

    "Rosie, this is Tony." Riff gestured to the very tall man in front of them. He patted his back, and held out his hand for the woman to join them. "Tony, this is Rose."

  "It's nice to meet you, Rose." He shook her hand, delicately.

  Riff smirked. "My wife." 

  "What? She made you honest?" He scoffed, shaking his head.

  "What's so odd about that?"

  "Nothing, I just- It's weird to see you with someone, you know."

  "Yeah, alright."

The girl roamed a little, wiping the dust from shelves as her husband threw cans to Tony. He was reluctant, however, still unsure of how his friend would react to everything. Eventually, Riff stopped.

"Can."

"Come on." Riff pouted like a child. "Just for an hour, only a little hour. You used to like dancing. No monkeyshines."

"Come on, Riff," Tony wasn't having any of it. "Can."

Reluctantly, he picked the final one up, the layer of grime sticking to his skin. "Christ almighty. You know, there's dust on everything. Ever since..." As he edged closer, he moved swiftly, so the can was just out of reach, and attention was on him. "Hey, I swear on everything that's holy, it is just girls sipping punch and music..."

"And the sharks."

"And the spics."

"And a rumble."

Riff sighed. "Which all you gotta do..."

"You're on your own, pal-o-mine." Tony backed away.

"Is help me haggle over the terms of the rumble."

It wasn't the worst thing he could do. His parole office need never know. It wasn't like the Jets would say anything. They would have his back as long as he had theirs. Riff just needed to know. He needed Tony.