Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow

Original Sin-November 1920

"She's basically my sister," Jimmy tells the assorted gathering. "What happened to Clara can't be allowed to stand."

"I think the deal between Mr. Rothstein and myself addresses the violence against Clara," Nucky retorts.

"Gentleman, no one in this room wants our enemies to believe that going after daughters, sisters, mothers, wives is acceptable. We all have things we do not wish to lose," Arnold Rothstein said smoothly. The other men in the room nodded. "In fact, Mr. Thompson, I would like to apologize to the young lady personally for my part in her ordeal."

"That won't be necessary," Nucky replied.

"I'm afraid I must insist," Rothstein said.

Nucky nodded. It wasn't worth arguing over. He rang the bell, and when Eddie appeared asked him to fetch Clara and Harrow.

Minutes later the most interesting pairing Arnold Rothstein had ever feasted his eyes upon-and he was a man who sought out the interesting, the absurd, and the unusual the way most men seek out breakfast-walked into the room. The girl was lovely. The man...it struck Rothstein that the man had been lovely. That mane of dark hair, the chiseled jaw, the height, the build. But the strange metal mask he wore destroyed the illusion, and something made the uncovered part of his mouth pull strangely. The war, he presumed. What else could destroy such a young man? He barely looked older than the girl. For all their differences-his cheap but immaculate clothing, her simple but expensive dress; his destroyed beauty versus her lovely wholeness-the electricity between them was almost palpable.

"Frankenstein! How ya' doin'?" The tubby little man from Chicago called from his corner, Al...Something. Rothstein couldn't recollect. He hadn't seemed important enough to commit to memory. Torrio shook his head at Capone's inability to control his mouth.

Rothstein was busy watching the main event. Clara Thompson walked into the room wearing a carefully composed social face, one he assumed she had honed since childhood. One Rothstein imagined rarely slipped. Yet when the Chicagoan spoke for one moment the mask fell and the look Miss Thompson shot him was pure ice. She also took the smallest of steps towards the man in the mask. Their hands weren't touching, Rothstein noted, but they could be.

"My apologies, I don't believe anyone has ever referred to me in that way?" Clara said, refusing to break eye contact with the odious little man with the potato face.

The man in the mask spoke. "He knows me. From Chicago. He calls me. Frankenstein." The low growl was almost inhuman, made worse by a clicking noise that followed some words, Rothstein thought.

Jimmy looked down at his feet. Nucky had once told Jimmy to stop fighting at school (Gillian was having an affair with the father of one of their schoolmates; Jimmy couldn't walk down the hall without someone saying something about his ma). One kid, though, one kid needed it. Jimmy had been considering risking Nucky's wrath one afternoon on the playground when the kid wouldn't shut his mouth, but before he could act Clara jumped down from the top of the monkey bars on top of the little bastard and proceeded to blacken his eye before anyone could pull her off. She had the exact same look on her face now.

"He thinks you a mad scientist, or simply a physician?" Clara asked, and slightly turned her body so she was making eye contact with the masked man's good eye. Ah, Rothstein saw, she still thinks him lovely and it grieves her that others don't see it.

Rothstein snorted out loud, saw Meyer Lansky and Jimmy Darmody fight to hide laughter, and Thompson briefly close his eyes at his daughter's retort. The girl's literary critique went over the heads of the rest. The masked man allowed himself a slight smile, or what Rothstein assumed was a smile.