“Relax,” Riff said to the frightened counterman as he held up a dollar bill. “Coffee all around. Anybody been here looking for us?”

The counterman shuffled toward the tall urn which had not been polished in years. “Nobody, Riff,” he replied. “Look, fellows, just stayin’ alive gives me all the trouble I can stand. So don’t give me any more.”

Riff snapped his fingers impatiently. “We want coffee—no cream, no sugar, no gas.”

“I want sugar,” Baby-John said. “I like sugar.”

Ice elbowed Baby-John into the counter and the youngest member of the Jets rubbed his upper arm and slid onto a stool. Then he removed a comic book from his pocket, opened it and began to read with interest. As a junior member he had to learn to be patient and keep his mouth shut; and what he was doing now would prove to Ice that he wasn’t too stupid to have got his message.

“Where the hell are they?” Ice asked as he pointed to a clock over the cash register. “If we’re havin’ a war council tonight they oughta be here by now.”

Riff flicked his eyes toward the startled counterman who had turned toward them sharply. “You’re a comedian, Ice. The coffees,” he prodded the counterman. “What the hell takes you so long?”

“It’s comin’,” the counterman said. “I can only pour one cup at a time.”

“Superman could fill all the cups so fast you couldn’t even see them.” Baby-John spoke like the authority he was. “You know somethin’ else about Superman? He doesn’t use knives. He doesn’t even have to use an atomic ray gun. He leaves that for his enemies. All he uses is this.” He showed a hard fist.

“You don’t say?” A-Rab was interested. “He knocks down walls and everything?”

“I do so say,” Baby-John replied. “He’s got it all over Batman.” He pointed at the door, “Hey, lock it before Mrs. Haunted House gets in.”

“I heard you, stinker,” Anybodys said as she slammed the door behind her. “I got as much right here as you. And I’m willin’ to prove it.”

“Go back there and sit down,” Riff ordered. He was too busy tonight to run her ass out on the sidewalk. “Give her some coffee,” he told the counterman.

“Sure, sure,” the counterman said, and looked nervously toward the street. Damn the cops, they were never around at the right time. “I’m closin’ up soon.”

Gee-Tar shook his head. “It’s against the law to throw out cash customers. What’s the matter, bud, you don’t like our manners? Now finish serving those coffees and get back to your sink until we call you.”

“I’m not lookin’ for trouble,” the counterman pleaded, “so why pick on me?”

“We’re not pickin’ on anybody,” Riff said as he looked at the clock again. He had been unable to find Tony, and Action had said nothing, just looked, which was worse. “Meetin’ here was Bernardo’s idea. You know Bernardo?”

“Sort of,” the counterman said.