Chapter Text
This new Luna Park place on Coney Island was flashy. It was flashy and exciting and more expensive than any dancehall, when you put the train ride and ferry ride and amusement rides together, along with snacks and admission. Rose and Essie had been silently lamenting their lack of funds for weeks, so it came as a surprise when one mentioned it on a walk through a nearby park one Friday evening after candlelighting, and Little Ash said, sounding a smidgen too motivated for his own good:
“What is this Coney Island like?”
“What isn't it like?” Rose huffed out a half-laugh. “There's enough sweets to give one a sore jaw, a submarine ride inside of a building, one that simulates taking a strange automobile-like ship to the Moon—”
“Hm, as if that will ever happen,” Little Ash grinned like he knew something everyone else (except perhaps Uriel) didn't.
“And a boat ride in a tunnel, and something called a roller coaster. And a Ferris Wheel too,” she added.
“Everyone's going,” nodded Essie, hand-in-hand with Rose Cohen.
“I wouldn't mind a small something sweet,” Uriel hummed, “but between what you're sending back home to your families, and the fact Ashel and I both lack work, none of us have the necessary money, do we?”
“Maybe you don't,” Little Ash shrugged, “but I’ve got enough fare to cover four.”
“I'm so sorry— what?” Essie stopped in her tracks, leaving Rose tugging her hand as the Demon kept walking ahead. Uriel stopped in its own tracks too, sighing and nervously twisting its tziszis.
There hadn't been too many times since coming to America that they hadn't been together, but there were days it’s dear chevruta would go for a late night stroll while (though Ashel was the more cat-like one, they'd been told), it simply couldn't resist curling up by the fireplace like some kind of small, furry thing. And of course, they'd run through whatever cash from the vile mobster’s kettle Little Ash had pocketed for his own use. So, considering wherever this new money had come from, Uriel’s mind couldn't help but venture into the most sickly yet expected of places.
“I said,” Little Ash turned, beaming, bending at the waist with his hands shoved sneakily and proudly into his pockets, before he pulled one out to display a couple dollars fanned between his fingers, “I’ve got fare for four.”
Rose’s jaw dropped. Essie laughed incredulously. Uriel put its head in its hands.
“Where did you get that,” it spoke as more of a statement than a question.
“I care for you, but as the Americans say: that's truthfully “none of your beeswax,” isn't it?”
“It’s very much my beeswax,” Uriel exasperatedly countered.
“How’s this: if I tell you that explaining it would require Lashon Hora, would you let sleeping dogs lie?”
Uriel pressed its lips together and grumbled, unable to say yes for the fact it was an Angel, and unable to say no for the fact that, as happened so often, it didn't believe a single word its dearest, demonic friend said but wasn't keen to argue over anything that wasn't Torah. Their arguments had gone sour too many times in the span of recent events.
Rose shrugged, “for once, I don't care how he came into possession of it. I'm just excited to go to Coney Island on darling Essie’s day off.”
“You're the darling one. Or the daring one, thinking about going on a Ferris Wheel.”
“Oh, come on. It can't be that tall.”
“Are you actually kidding me? Is God pulling my leg?! How can it be that tall?”
Little Ash’s funds had gotten them on the train and the short ferry ride, and now here they stood, at the gates of Luna Park, with the debatably imposing shadow of the rides and ornamental roofs towering over them. In particular, the Ferris Wheel stood above all else, at a staggering 264 feet.
“I would say They weren't,” Uriel spoke pointedly, “but They’ve been known to do that. You know, Job and Jonah, and that whole Akhnai debacle.”
Rose had half a mind to say she wasn't asking literally, but instead chose to hide her face in Essie’s shoulder and murmur, “there had better be other good rides, because I am not going on that thing. I might be daring, darling, but I’ve got sense.”
“We’ll see,” Essie shrugged, smiling into her lover's soft hair, freshly-washed and styled that she might look her best among the crowds. “They say riding it at night is supposed to be romantic.”
All Rose could do was grumble, which (quite luckily enough) covered up Little Ash’s Yiddish-equivalent of That's What She Said, which made Uriel utterly red in the face as it lightly smacked him to be decent in public.
It was when Rose shook off the nerves and headed for the admissions booth that Little Ash’s shoulders jumped. That being said, he certainly let her go up to the serious man in the silly uniform and ask for four tickets allowing admission to the base set of rides— only for her to look back at the undercover demon, who avoided her eyes with practiced skill.
“You've got the cash, don't you?”
Little Ash pressed his lips together into a thin line and rocked back and forth on his heels.
“Ashel…” Uriel sighed, always the one to reveal truthful information, even when it stung. “No. I can tell that he doesn't. It's in the face. That's his I'm Admitting To Lying But Don't Want To Say So face. All he’s got is a couple pennies.”
Rose stomped over to him, and Essie had to more-or-less hold her back from grabbing Little Ash’s lapels and shaking him back and forth like a bobblehead or a limp, grinning doll.
“Look, it's alright, it's alright!” He threw up his hands defensively and took a wise (and wide) step back. “Places like this are crawling with scammers begging to be scammed back, and people who could use someone with the ability to spot them! That's a mitzvah! Right, Uriel?”
“Debatably,” it mused with all serious consideration, “Samuel 22:27: with the pure, You act in purity, and with the perverse You behave with cunning.”
“Look. Circuses never came to Shtetl on account of its size, but you're from Belz, aren't you? You should know they came to nearby cities on important market days on occasion, and what scum of the earth crawled along on their bellies after the Big Top! If I’m right, it's the same here! Stop giving me the Ayin Hora!”
When Rose finally relented, Little Ash snapped his fingers and left them pointing outward as if instructing, keen to explain his plan.
“It’s a two-part plan. I’ll go around, scamming the scammers back, being particularly noisy and nosy about it. I expect someone working here will notice me— that, or I’ll give them some money, a portion of the money, and say it belongs rightfully to Luna Park. They'll be so elated, they'll let us all in for free, and the rest can be spent on what rides cost a bit extra, and all the sweets you could imagine.”
And so, that was what Little Ash did.
He used his demonic sense to understand the lies of the scammers and determine what course of action would yield the best results. In a game of Thimblerig, he lost on purpose several times, to allow the game-master to raise the bet higher and higher and higher. When he was satisfied, Little Ash easily determined the cup under which the marble sat and won back all of his cash, and then some. In one case, with a faux do-gooder asking for signatures and donations on a petition, he somehow convinced the person to donate half of the money to him— for what cause? Who could say. Even Uriel wasn't sure how Little Ash managed that one.
And then, putting on own best do-gooder act, Little Ash presented the money to the admissions booth with the claim that he'd taken it from the scammers, that it rightfully belonged to the Park.
Everything went as planned.
The staff of the Park were relieved, and the lower-level administrative staff with whom they met were simply as elated as expected. They granted the four of them basic access for the entire day, leaving Little Ash with the extra cash, enough for those rides with supplementary fees and plenty of food (not all of it would be Kosher, of course, but there were enough booths run by immigrants that they would do more than just scrape by).
“I can't believe you did it, but you actually did,” Rose laughed as they walked through the gates.
“How you like them apples?” the demon grinned from a nearby stall, turning around to reveal he was (someway, somehow) balancing enough candy apples for each of them.
They had the wonderful, whole day ahead.