Throughout It All

11 | A Trip To The Saloon ... Kind Of | July 20, 1914

Ooh, *so creative* of a title haha.

Anyway, this is where things start to pick up.

I had to change the title from just The Saloon because I did some research before starting writing this chapter so my plans have slightly changed haha.

Hopefully it's still interesting nonetheless.

Enjoy! :)

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Maybe it was because they were all hungry that the food at Lombardi's tasted so good. Or maybe it was because they were all laughing and smiling together as they talked about everything and nothing, having fun together. They all missed stuff like this. No matter what tangible/intangible elements were involved, they are all satisfied after their meal.

Now they just need to find the saloon that Al Capone was talking about, and maybe they will find Big Jack O'Brien, and then finally find Kid Griffo.

And so they resume their search.

They look for the saloon Race said Al Capone told him about. But up and down this street, there's no saloon anywhere.

"Could he have been lying?" Jack asks Race.

Race shakes his head. "He believed what he was saying. He didn't have the expression of someone telling a lie, of leading someone in the wrong direction."

Spot thinks for a moment. "What exactly do you mean by an expression of leading someone in the wrong direction?"

Race shrugs. He tries to find words to describe it. "There's just a certain feel to it. Like it's supposed to sound authentic, to make the other person believe it's authentic. I don't really know what else there is to it. It has the same appearance as someone telling the truth, except it's based on lies. I just ... have figured out how to read people, I guess. And I could tell that Al Capone believed in what he was saying. Even if it's not true, he believed there was a saloon here."

"And how can you tell that?" David asks curiously.

"There's an earnestness to it," Race answers. "Like he's willing to help, trying to matter. Saying his truth, to spread knowledge to others. This was authentic trying to help point us in the right direction."

"That's very cool, Race," Mush murmurs. "That you can tell that much about a person."

"Even if he does believe it's true," Jack says, "that doesn't help us if there's no saloon here."

"Yeah, I know," Race responds. Then he stops. "The Dump."

Except it was so quiet no one else heard what he said. They all stop walking. "What?"

Race smacks his forehead. "Of course!"

No one knows what's happening. "What?"

"The Dump used to be a saloon here," Race explains, "but it closed down four years ago. He was telling the truth, there was a saloon here-"

"-But now it's something else," Jack completes the thought.

"Exactly."

"That's brilliant, Race!"

A smile tugs at the corner Race's lips. "I know."

"So, do you know where this former saloon is?" David asks.

Race shrugs. "No idea. Chuck Connors was there; so I stayed out of it."

"Wait." Jack's mind is reeling. He's heard that somewhere. "Who?"