November, 1898
Two-bit cursed her small stature as she strained against the crowd. "Goddamnit!" she swore. "Pardon me," she snapped, neatly elbowing the man next to her in the ribs. That's more like it, she thought, as her view of the fight finally cleared.
Murphy took a hit in the jaw and doubled over. The crowd booed and hissed. "Come on, Murph," Two-bit bellowed reproachfully, waving a fist. She threw all her energy into it: "Break 'is face!" The exertion practically knocked the dusty silver eyeglasses from her face. She pushed them back up and continued to watch eagerly.
A few of the older dogs peered curiously down at the loudmouthed girl in baggy pants, no doubt wondering why she wasn't at home sewing or cooking for her income like their wives and daughters. Two-bit delighted in their curiosity. "Hey, I got big money ridin' on this fight," she informed whoever would listen, then turned her attention back to the makeshift ring, located off the side of an abandoned warehouse.
Murphy, as if heeding her encouragement, picked himself up again and delivered a neat blow to Ripken's gut. He followed it up with a flurry of punches to the face, sending Rip to the corner. "That's a good lad!" someone shouted in a thick brogue on Two-bit's left. "Give 'im some o' that Irish charm! Yes!" A great cheer went up from half of the crowd, and once again Two-bit's vision was obscured. "Great bloody hell," she muttered impatiently, scurrying under the sweaty, affectionate headlocks of the fightgoers and searching desperately for a hole to peep through.
" 'Ey!" Two-bit didn't see the great bulk of a man until she'd plowed directly into him. She didn't even have to look up to know that it was the Irishman who'd been shouting.
" 'Scuse me," she hollered, and spotted a packing crate a few feet away. She scampered over and climbed on top of it, scanning the crowd for Frisco. "That shit," she growled. He'd put a whole dollar on Ripken, and she was ready to collect. Frisco, though, was nowhere to be found.
"Lookin' for someone?" Two-bit felt a tap on her back and whirled.
"Frisco, I'm gonna—heyyyyy!" She jumped down from the crate and punched Midnight O'Connell affectionately on the shoulder. "Whaddya doin' down here, Middy? This ain't your scene."
Midnight shrugged. "Thought I'd come check it out. That nosy copper on 38th was givin' me looks, so I beat it. Figured no one'd find me in dis crowd." She gestured to the madness around them. As if to illustrate her point, a wayward spectator tripped over Two-bit, sloshing half of his beer out onto her shirt. " 'Ey, watch it!" Midnight yelled after him. "You okay?" she asked, turning back to Two-bit.
"Aw, Christ," Two-bit swore, shaking some of the beer from her front. "Yeah, I'm okay, I'll just smell like a pub till I can get this out good," she complained, yelling to make herself heard over the noise. "Hey, you haven't seen Frisco anywhere, have you?"
Middy shook her head. "Nope, sorry. Why? Got a hot date?" she nudged Two-bit with a smile, and Two-bit rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, right. More like a hot tip. He owes me for this fight," she explained. "I tried to tell 'im, bettin' against Murphy's like throwin' money in the sewer! The man is a rock."
Middy laughed. "Hey, I'm gonna split. Wanna get a drink or somethin'?"
"Yeah, I'll tag along. Frisk can't hide forever. I'll bust 'is head when we get back to the house."
A group of noisy Irish spectators were migrating in the same direction as Two-bit and Middy, which was towards the Four Horses tavern. "This oughta be interesting," Two-bit murmured to Middy. Middy just snorted in return.
Once they got inside, the only free space was at the bar. The girls hopped onto adjacent barstools and dug into their pockets for money. Two-bit fished out a few pennies and slid them across the counter. "Sarsaparilla," she managed to bark out over the hubbub of the drunken Irish crowd. "Make it two," Middy said, and added her money to Two-bit's.
Two-bit snickered into her glass as the rowdy patrons struck up a less-than-chaste song.
"Something tells me these guys picked a winner," Middy commented, two inches from Two-bit's ear. It was the only way to make herself heard. They exchanged a grin and continued to nurse their drinks.
Midnight and Two-bit were about to hop down from their stools when a burly pair of hands landed on their shoulders. "You two lasses wouldn't be leavin' wivout givin' us the pleasure of a dance, now would ye?" one of the tipsy Irishmen rasped.
Two-bit refrained from making eye contact and instead shot a look at Middy. "Actually, we would," she announced curtly, and tried to duck around him, but he caught her by the middle.
"Aw, now dun be coy," he slurred laughingly.
"Let me go, you horrible ass!" Two-bit snapped, looking to Middy for help. Middy scowled at Two-bit, but kicked the man in the shins.
"You heard her," she cried. She grabbed Two-bit's arm and hauled her to the door. "This is the last time I come into a crowded tavern with you," she muttered. "I could get myself killed trying to save your ass."
The man drained his Guinness and lurched after them. "Aw, shit," Two-bit seethed. "The bastard's not givin' up."
She and Middy finally made it through the crush of people and emerged onto the street. The sun was going down, giving the air a slight chill. Two-bit shuddered. "The brute. If I didn't like it so much, I'd say beer oughta be outlawed." Middy chuckled stiffly, still unnerved, and brushed off her clothes.
"Race ya back to the house?" Two-bit exclaimed, and Middy rolled her eyes.
"I don't wanna have to kick your ass, Two-bit," she replied loftily.
Two-bit smirked. "Don't worry, you—hey!"
The drunkard had burst out of the pub and grabbed Two-bit roughly by the collar. Two-bit let out a little cry of surprise. "Looks like I'm going to have to show ye some manners, little girl," he growled. "And yer stinkin' friend, too!" Two-bit tried to wrench his arm away, but he hung on.
"Stop it! Let me go!" she yelled. Middy skirted the man's lunge and punched him in the side, but stumbled and was caught by the wrist.
"Shit," Two-bit hissed, her eyes darting desperately for a way out.
A shadow fell across them. "You won't want to be doin' that, sorr," someone said softly, almost kindly. Two-bit tried to loosen her collar, which was pressed uncomfortably against her windpipe, and peered up at the speaker.
But he's no more than a—"Boy," their assailant slurred, "Ye'll wanna stay outta this one." He was obviously amused by the baby-faced, curly-headed kid's assertion.
"I'm afraid I can't, sorr. Ya see, it's my job, and Brian's, to keep some bit of order here. This"—he gestured to Two-bit and Middy, who had frozen into resistant stances—"ain't order. I think you've had quite enough to drink, and if ye'll just be on yer way—" He made a move as if to free Middy, who was closest. Two-bit noticed the ragged apron around his waist and deduced that he must work at the bar.
"Why, ye're nothin' but a pipsqueak," the drunk barked, and yanked Midnight away.
"Ouch!" Middy yelped indignantly.
"Oh, that I may be," the boy replied benignly, stepping back. "But I don't believe you've met my colleague—oy, Brian, come 'ead." An enormous, burly specimen stepped forward and folded his arms, gazing steadily at the drunkard.
"Ye'll want to let the ladies go," he said with a concerned nod.
Two-bit's eyes darted back to the drunk, who seemed pitifully undersized compared with the ox of a barhand. He frowned and swore a bit under his breath, then reluctantly shoved the girls from him. Two-bit stumbled, then set to massaging her neck. "What a gentleman," she murmured sarcastically to Middy. Middy glared at Two-bit, who quickly looked back to their attacker.
"Brian, if ye'd be kind enough to escort our friend to the curb," the curly-haired boy said shortly.
"Uh—thanks," Middy said to him, then quickly added, "—sir. Thanks, sir." She and Two-bit were about to take off home when Two-bit felt a light thump on her shoulder. She turned.
The boy leveled a stony gaze at her. "I've no patience for the likes of you two, stirrin' up trouble for its own sake. I've got quite enough to take care of wivout a coupla ratty girls provokin' the payin' customers. See that ye steer clear of us now on, hear?"
Two-bit's mouth dropped open. "You're blamin' us?" she screeched.
"Two-bit," Middy said warningly as she tried to pull her friend away by the elbow, but Two-bit resisted.
"For your information buddy, we're payin' customers too. And a fine job you're doin', tellin' us not to fill yer own damn pockets!" He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed, and let his blue eyes stray impatiently to the tavern door.
"Yeah, fine, go back to keepin' the peace, we'll steer clear," Two-bit spat. "But don't think it's because we're scared of your hired goon, ya pansy showoff."
"Two-bit!" Middy yanked on Two-bit's hand.
"God in heaven, Middy, I'd rather I'd blown my money on Ripken than spent it in that goddamned pub," Two-bit muttered. The boy paused for a moment, looking after them, then disappeared into the noise and warmth of the pub.
"Yeah, I wish you had, too," Middy replied, as they started at last for the lodging house.
The lodging house that night was unusually quiet. Luna Morgan, from the Bridge house, was staying the night ("On business," she proclaimed enigmatically), which meant Katie and Mouse were hanging on her every word, which meant, Luna felt more obligated than usual to keep up her steady stream of outrageous stories. A group of newsies, including Katie, Mouse, Rayne, a bored-looking Frisco, and Sugar, was gathered around her in a ragged circle, listening to Luna's current episode of derring-do.
"So it was me, Hastings, an' Hastings' gun, face-to-face," Luna was saying in a low voice as Two-bit and Middy dragged in. "All I had wit me was me slingshot"—her hand automatically strayed to her pocket, where the slingshot lived—"an' me wits." She pointed to her head, then leaned in closer. "An' ya know what I did?"
"What?!" Katie burst out, looking nerve-wracked.
Two-bit and Middy exchanged a knowing glance and walked to the table, where Angles and Stubby were sitting.
"Hey guys," Angles greeted them. "Whatcha been up to? You're late."
"We were unavoidably detained," Middy said.
"Pssh. Just because she works for the newspaper she thinks she's smarter than the rest of us," Two-bit growled to Angles and Stubby.
"Well, she sure talks prettier than the rest of us," Stubby replied with a smile for Middy. "Seriously, where were you two?" She pushed a thick swath of hair over her shoulder and leaned her elbows on the table. "Sellin' was good today."
"Maybe for you," Middy muttered.
"I took a day off," Two-bit replied earnestly. "Come to think of it, I'll be takin' another day off about this time next week..." she smiled.
"Oh, honestly, Two-bit. Where do ya get the money to slack off so much?" Angles asked, unceremoniously picking her teeth.
Two-bit shrugged and scratched her head. "As long as Murphy keeps winnin' and I keep gettin' hold'a saps like Frisco…I'll be livin' like a Vanderbilt."
"That is, unless you finally get yourself killed," Middy interjected dramatically.
Stubby frowned. "Why would Two-bit get killed?" she asked. Something occurred to her, and her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, Two-bit, don't tell me you're mixed up with the mob—"
"No, no, no," Two-bit interrupted quickly, waving her hands. "Middy's just mad because some drunken ass tried to get a little something at the Midtown fight."
"Well, if you hadn't egged him on," said Middy.
"Oh, please. It was self-defense. I'm just a poor, helpless little orphan girl…" Two-bit put her hand to her forehead in a mock swoon. "…and me mouth's me only weapon."
"Too bad it can't shoot to kill," Middy muttered. Angles snickered. "I can't believe you called him an ass to his face."
Two-bit banged her elbows onto the table. "Well, whose brilliant idea was it to go for a drink in the first place, Middy?"
Middy glared at Two-bit. Two-bit glared back. Middy growled and showed her teeth. Angles and Stubby giggled.
They heard an exasperated sigh from Luna's group. Sugar Valenci sucked her teeth impatiently and stood up. "Well, I, for one, think that this story is ridiculous," she said loudly, with a haughty toss of her head, and flounced off to the boys' bunks, no doubt to have a little entertainment of her own sort.
Luna blinked and pretended to fire a gun at Sugar's retreating figure. Then she continued in her deep, suspenseful voice: "I ducked, kicked the bastard's feet out from under 'im, grabbed the gun where he dropped it, an'—"
"Shot him! I knew it!" Katie exclaimed.
"Katie!" the rest of the group chorused, exasperated.
"Sorry, guys," she said meekly.
Luna laughed, then stood up to stretch, snapping her suspenders into place. "Well, kids, I'm about storied out," she declared, her eyes twinkling. She was quite obviously pleased by all the attention she was getting.
"Who you callin' kid, kid?" Frisco asked her, tugging a long raven lock playfully.
Rayne rolled her eyes. "Careful, Frisco, your unbridled passion is showing," she teased him. Frisco scowled at her.
Katie sighed. "Luna, will you tell me more about Spot?"
Luna ruffled Katie's hair. "We'll see about dat," she said. "But fer now I tink it'd be best if we all hit the sack, okay?" She smiled at the group at the table and walked over. The rest of the newsies dispersed to their respective wings of the lodging house, creating a pleasant rumble of laughing conversation as they went.
Luna sat down at the head of the table and glanced at Two-bit and Middy. "So you two finally decided to join the party, huh?"
"Actually, we just came from one," Middy said sweetly, with an acerbic glance for Two-bit. "Two-bit's great at starting parties, aren't you Bitkins? Hmm?"
"Oh, lay off," Two-bit grumbled, pushing her glasses up on her nose. "It wasn't my fault he was drunk."
Luna raised her eyebrows and leaned forward in her chair. "Sounds thrilling. Is it somethin' I oughta hear?"
"Nah. We ran into a little trouble with a mick at the Four Horses in Midtown. But we got out with our skin," Two-bit looked pointedly at Middy, "so I say we can forget it ever happened."
"The Four Horses, huh?" A thoughtful look had come over Luna's face.
Two-bit nodded. "Yeah, the little place over by the old Packard-Mooney warehouse on 49th."
"They make a pretty penny during the fights then, I'm sure," Stubby commented. Two-bit nodded.
Luna closed her eyes, her brow furrowed. "Used ta know a guy by the name of Grady," she said. "In Brooklyn, years ago. Owned a crappy little waterin'-hole…anyway, I seem to recollect him sellin' an' comin' out here to start a place called the Four Horses." She shook her head. "Selfish bastard, he was."
"An attitude he makes sure he passes on to his employees," Two-bit added bitterly.
"That is, if he still owns it," Luna clarified.
Two-bit looked at Middy. "You saw how that dandified girly boy tried to pin it all on us, didn't ya?"
"I was there, Two-bit," said Midnight placidly.
Two-bit ignored this. "I swear, the way he talked you'd think we'd started an all-out brawl and burned the place down!"
Luna chuckled. "You'll kick his ass someday, Two-bit," she said encouragingly, then stood up and yawned. "It was good talkin', but I guess I'll turn in. See youse guys in the mornin'…I got a little business to take care of in da neighborhood, but I oughta be around for breakfast."
"Breakfast?" Angles barked. "You mean, watered-down coffee and corn cakes?"
"If dat's what ya got," Luna replied.
"I think Mrs. Winkler is on strike," Angles said with a frown. "Either that or she's gone to the poorhouse. We ain't had nothin' good here since April."
"Ah, quit yer whinin'," Stubby said good-naturedly. "At least it's food, right?"
"I need my money," said Two-bit suddenly, standing up so fast that her chair wobbled precariously.
The others got up as well, and meandered towards the girls' bunkroom, Luna singing softly to herself.
Two-bit headed down the hall in the opposite direction and paused outside of the boys' room, peering in surreptitiously. The boys were all in various states of undress, but seeing as no one was completely starkers, Two-bit pushed the door all the way open and went in.
"What's yer business, Two-bit?" Leo asked, sounding a little wary. He'd just emerged from the water closet.
"I've come to collect," she replied, scanning the room for Frisco and locating him sitting cross-legged on his top bunk.
"Heya, Frisk," Two-bit said conversationally, ambling over to Frisco with a grin. He was in the process of slipping his suspenders off over his shoulders.
"Ah, hey, Two-bit," he said quickly. "What brings you in here so late?"
"Oh, nothin' much," she replied, casually leaning against the bedpost. "I just seem to remember you puttin' down a good buck on Ripken earlier, an' seein' as Ripken didn't win…that means you're out and"—she hoisted herself up to stand on the edge of the empty bunk below him—"I want my money." She paused. "That was a pretty nasty trick you pulled, Frisco old boy, disappearing right after me man won. Tsk tsk."
"Uh-oh, Frisk," B Hamilton called mockingly from across the room. "Hey, Two-bit, do we get another fight right here?"
"Only if he doesn't pay up," Two-bit said, maintaining an exaggeratedly solemn face. She held out her hand. "Right here, Frisk. Lay it down. Get it over with, huh?"
Frisco glowered at her, then reluctantly fished a crumpled bill from his pocket. "There, now get out of here," he snapped.
"Don't gotta tell me twice," Two-bit muttered as she hopped back down to the floor and strolled out of the bunkroom.
"Come on, Frisco!" Two-bit whined the following week, hanging onto the side of his bunk. "You're the only one here who knows boxin'! Ya gotta come—Murphy's takin' Geoff Robinson this week."
Frisco shook his head and snorted. "Uh-uh, Two-bit, no way. Last week you conned me out of a whole dollar—I ain't up for losin' any more."
"Ya stupid git, maybe if you bet on the right guy for once, you'd—"
"Insulting me will get you nowhere," Frisco snapped. "Now if you don't mind," he said, coming down from the bunk, "I've got a job to go to. You might try lookin' into one."
"I have a job," she snapped. "But look, man, I can't make anythin' off this fight if I ain't got someone to bet with, or at least someone to put me money in. Nobody's gonna trust a fifteen-year-old girl to bet."
He pushed past her, out of the bunkroom.
"Killjoy," Two-bit muttered after him.
She dragged into the common room a few minutes later, glancing around at the newsies desperately for someone who might help her.
The girls were automatically out. No one took a girl seriously at the fights, least of all teenaged girls like the lodgers. Frisco was being maddeningly uncooperative. Mouse was far too young. Leo didn't condone gambling. Two-bit wasn't terribly friendly with London. This left Risk and B. Two-bit was hesitant to ask Risk, afraid that he might laugh at her. So, she sauntered over to B and presented him with a broad, friendly smile.
He was perched on the stool in front of the furnace, tying his bootlaces.
"Heya, B," she greeted him, plopping down next to him. He smiled back, but looked a little confused at her sudden warmth.
"Uh… hey, Two-bit," he replied. "What's up?"
"Let's cut the chit-chat, B," she said, lowering her voice an octave. "I need a favor."
A look of dread passed over B's face. "What…kind of favor?"
"Hey, come on, don't look so scared. I jus' need somebody—a boy—to place me a bet at a fight in Midtown this afternoon."
B looked skeptical. "How long do you need me there for?" he asked.
"Couple hours, around noon."
B sighed, looking torn. He was really a nice guy, Two-bit thought. And handsome, too.
What she wouldn't give to hear he was a fight fan.
"I'm really sorry, Two-bit," he said finally. "But I gotta sell. I do mornings and afternoons, and that would cut into my sales."
Two-bit's face fell. "Damn," she whispered, and leaned back on her hands, feeling defeated.
B finished tying his boots and nudged Two-bit. "Hey…you said the fight's in Midtown?" he asked, trying to sound cheerful.
"Yeah," she mumbled.
"Well, I don't wanna make any promises…"
"But?" Two-bit prompted, having perked up considerably.
"I got a friend who works on 49th, he's about our age," B said thoughtfully. "Tommy Ryan. He might be able to help out."
"Really?" Two-bit exclaimed. "Hey, that's perfect! The fight's behind the warehouse on 49th."
B grinned. "Great," he said. "I'll go over there with you on my break and hunt him up."
Two-bit smiled happily. "Thanks, B, you're an angel!"
That afternoon was warm, for November. There was a barely perceptible chill in the air, and Two-bit had left her coat at the lodging house. It felt wonderful to go about in shirtsleeves again.
She met B at the corner of 49th and Fifth Avenue, at a quarter to twelve. She'd kept her hand safely closed around the three and a half dollars in her pocket ever since she'd gotten there, but removed it when she caught sight of him, in order to wave madly.
"Sorry it took so long, Two-bit," B apologized. "I tried to take a shortcut, but…erm…well, anyways. I'm here."
Two-bit bit her lip. "Hey, B, what if your friend ain't here?" she asked.
"He works here, Two-bit," B replied, starting off down the street.
"I know, but…well, when was the last time you saw him?" she persisted, trotting to keep pace.
B shot her a look, and she shut up, but was still a bit worried. There was no way Murphy could lose to Robinson, and she'd hate to let an opportunity like this slip through her fingers.
B slowed as they approached the Four Horses. Two-bit gave him a questioning look, but he didn't notice. "His uncle owns this place," he explained, standing on tiptoe to scan the milling crowd that had already gathered for the fight. "He works here all the bloody time, it's a shame he can't find some other job."
Two-bit remained silent, but there was a growing feeling of nausea in the pit of her stomach. "Uh, B," she said quietly, but he didn't hear her. It couldn't be the same guy, she told herself. How could a nice guy like B get in with a rat like that barhand?
"There he is," B said decisively, grabbing Two-bit's hand and pulling her through the mob. Two-bit closed her eyes, expecting the worst.
When she opened them, she was standing next to the open tavern doors. "Wait here," B said, then jogged up to a boy…Two-bit strained her neck, but couldn't see his face. His back was turned.
"Oh, cripes," she muttered when she saw his curly hair. "It is him." She saw him nod swiftly to B, and as they turned to walk back to her, Two-bit did the first thing that came to her mind—she ducked behind the large slate menu by the door, trying to hide herself. For all her talk, she really wasn't too keen on getting in trouble with him again.
"Two-bit?" she heard B call. "Where'd she go?" he murmured. Two-bit held her breath.
"Here she is," B announced, easily peering over the sign. "What are you doing down there?" he asked curiously.
Two-bit straightened. "Er—I dropped my money," she lied lamely, trying to casually look in the opposite direction as B's companion. "I, ah, got it now."
"Good," said B. "Two-bit, this is Tommy." he shoved her in his direction. She winced and, taking a deep breath, looked up into his face.
"You're not—!" she exclaimed, pointing at him rather rudely.
Tommy looked confused. "I'm not…?"
Two-bit laughed with relief. "Oh, crimony. I thought you were somebody else," she explained. "Neva mind." She held out her hand to shake. He took it, still looking a bit confused, but he seemed to get over it quickly.
"Brock says ye need a bit of help?" Tommy said, phrasing it as a question. Two-bit noticed he had the same clipped brogue as the barhand, and come to think of it, they did look remarkably alike. It had been an honest mistake, confusing the two.
Two-bit nodded. "I need ya to place a bet for me," she said.
He nodded swiftly. "That I can do," he said.
B waved for their attention. "I'm just gonna..." he motioned towards the street.
Two-bit smiled. "See ya later, B. Thanks again!"
"Sure," he replied modestly, and punched Tommy affectionately on the shoulder as he left.
"Anyway, like I was sayin'," Two-bit continued, focusing her attention again on Tommy. "I got three-fifty in my pocket. I want it all on Murphy."
Tommy grinned. "Aye, that's the way to go. Murphy'll have Robinson on his back in nothin' flat."
Two-bit smiled back. "You bettin' too?" she asked.
He shook his head. "It's takin' all I got not to bet me savings, though," he added wistfully.
"Pretend this is yours, then," Two-bit told him, putting her money in his hand, "An' I'll split with you."
"Aw, that's all right," he said quickly. "It's yours."
"An' you're helpin' me double it," she answered. He started to protest. "Shut up," she snapped. "Let's split sixty-forty an' call it even."
"Seventy-thirty," he insisted.
"Oh, Christ. Fine. Look, ya gotta do this quick or the fight'll be over." Two-bit was trying hard not to smile. What a loon he was turning out to be.
"All right, all right. I'll meet ye back up there," he replied, pointing to a spot outside the makeshift ring. Two-bit nodded and fought her way over as he disappeared in the opposite direction.
A copper had planted himself watchfully, with arms folded, a few yards from where she stood. She tried to ignore him, in spite of the dim anxiety that had settled in the pit of her stomach.
Murphy stepped out to tumultuous cheers. Two-bit recognized a few of the faces on her side of the ring from the previous week's fight. She rolled her eyes—this time she would know to stay away from them.
Robinson spent the first three rounds rushing Murphy as the champion easily dodged him, but now Murphy had knuckled down—a sharp blow to Robinson's face brought a steady stream of blood from his nose and a collective groan from his supporters.
"Reckon it's broken?"
Two-bit whirled. "Hey," she shouted to Tommy. "Yeah, didn't you hear the crack?"
"I did," he replied. "Great fight, yeah?"