[h1]New Jersey[/h1]
[h2] Long Branch[/h2]

“Now, you see that over there?” Calloon gestured, leaning over the side of  the bus to point down into the street with one hand as another held against his knee a bottle of beer. His jeans were cleaner at least this day, or were a cleaner more orderly pair. He also wore a starched white T-shirt tucked into his pants complete with a light summer jacket.

Alex followed his hand and looked  down at the passing street. Things were clean in Long Branch, the sidewalks swept clean and broken glass windows replaced. The reflection in them of the bus was waving and distorted betraying the home-made quality of panes made from melted down beach sand. But more importantly at the corner of the street they now galloped through was a clean family-style restaurant. A sign hung over the door with the words, “All Come, All Serve. Pay if you may, help if you can.”

“How do you keep it running?” Alex asked, turning to The Boss.

They rode with an entourage atop an old school bus that had been painted and retrofitted to tour the streets, doubtlessly for profiles as high as he. The roof had at one point been cut away and replaced with a flat deck. A team of horses pulled it along the street. The ride provided a view, but the neglected shocks were either hardly working or nonexistent and every bump and pothole was exaggerated at their passing.

“I buy or receive donated farm produce from the countryside to feed to the people here in the city.” The Boss explained with a gentle smile, “In the case of donations I send a few boys out to do some work out around the area to pay them back. Not all of it goes to my restaurants, my Soul Houses; I keep a little, mostly to pay back the men I send to return the favors.”

“Seems like a lot of effort to keep some diners open.” Alexander said.

“Oh hardly.” The Boss replied, taking a swig at his warm beer, “A little bit of food can go a hell of a long way. It's hard shit, I ain't going to fucking lie about that. But the appreciation people have towards someone seeing them through another day is a pound of gold in your pocket. Besides, for the most part I don't hardly have to worry about keeping these places up and running, just see they get supplied with what they need: either that day or later people pay back what they owe in volunteer work and I don't have to do much.”

“I see.” Alex nodded as they rode along.

The two weren't the only ones on the bus. A few odd others came with, a representative from the Factory across the bay and individuals best described as courtiers to the Boss. Several were armed, with the faintest hints of handguns showing underneath light jackets or underneath the legs of their jeans.

“I can tell your not exactly impressed.” The Boss remarked.

“I can tell these don't really stop the Federalists down south.”

“They don't.” The Boss said, a little different, “But they served me something more important than armed thugs and cannons ever had or ever will. You see, when your people destroyed the regional government in Atlantic City it was these diners that saved my skin, and my people's skin from the threat of violence. While the whole rest of the country-side went into revolution once local government lost the support they needed to hold on I held on.” he leaned in close to Alex, a dour look on his face, “It was hard, but I fed my people and gave them a pillar of stability in trying times and I will be that pillar.”

“As you will remain.” Alex said with a polite smile.

The Boss took the compliment, smiled and nodded his appreciation.

“So really, what made you keen to do something like this? Or anything down here? I don't think in my whole knowing you I was ever told.”

“There was a good man in the past.” nodded The Boss, “He was renowned nation-wide so it was said and spoke to the common man as a common man himself. He was born here, in this city. Not in any big white house or mansion, but a set of tenement buildings long lost to us. With a guitar and his voice he went out to talk about America and to do good by your brothers and each other. And he did so too, doing good by him self by doing good upon each other.

“It wasn't no easy fight, but when I found the legacy he left behind and picked it back up I knew I had the long hard fight ahead. But it was the good fight all the same. And now...” his voice trailed off.

“And now you're standing on the edge again?”

“Damn straight. So why doesn't New York come down, and do right for people for once?”

“A good question, and one I'm not directly able to answer.” said Alex, looking passed The Boss to the town life around him.

“Though, I have one small question to ask.” Alex continued as they rode away from the diner. He nodded towards it for emphasis, “How is the food situation in these parts of New Jersey to keep these going?”

The Boss hesitated a bit, staggering for a moment as he began to speak, “Well, we do well enough.” he said, his voice straining, “Or I suppose well enough on peas and  cabbage to be honest, pal. But to tell the truth I have to import a fair bit from the Amish. We make ends meet by refining most of it abroad.”

“Like to us.” Alexander said with a thin smile, “Yeah, but I don't get involved with that directly as you remember. But, ah-...” he stopped, a chill shiver rattling the men and his posture dropped and he thumbed at his bottle. Alex could tell in that moment not all was well in Jersey. “Wait until you see our clam divers though!” The Boss announced proudly, “Them boys can hella work.”