Only In Dreams
Black Star Riley lived a simple, but not happy, existence. That was, until Rivers Cavanagh came along, turning her life, and the Brooklyn Lodging House, upside down.
Pushing strands of long, dark hair off her face, Black Star Riley grimaced and pushed her black bowler hat back a little so it didn't mask her face as much as she usually liked it to. July in Brooklyn had brought its usual hot, muggy weather making selling papers not the most desirable pastime.
"DEAD CORPSE FOUND IN GUTTER SUSPECTED TO BE RICH MANHATTENER!" Black Star called out loudly. Usually quiet and reserved, Black Star could be fairly loud when it came to selling papers. . . . anything helping her to get food on the table for herself was fair play, after all.
"Hey Star, how's da headlines?" Turning in the direction of the voice and squinting against the bright sunlight she saw it was Finch McCully. Finch was a Lower Manhattan newsie, lived with Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins, Mush Meyers, and the whole gang down there. So naturally, seeing him in Brooklyn was a rather unusual sight.
"Alright, I guess. Why aren'tcha hawking da headlines ya self?" Black Star questioned.
"I missed ya." Finch said with a sheepish grin.
"Oh?" Black Star could see where this was going. She and Finch had been "seeing" each other on and off ever since she'd been introduced to him, three months after she'd first moved into the Furman St. house. They were the epitome of the odd couple, Black Star Riley being the quiet, sad type and Finch McCulley being the loud, optimistic kind. This had caused much conflict between the two and they were always breaking up and getting back together.
"Yeah, and I was wonderin' if maybe you'd let me take you out tanight." Finch said with a charming smile.
"Depends." Black Star shrugged.
"On what?" Finch demanded.
"On. . . . t'ings." She replied. This argument went on for a few more minutes, resulting in Finch winning over her of course, mostly because it was just easier to give in.
"So, how is Mr. Finch McCully, anyway?" Was the first question Black Star heard once she came home that night from dinner with Finch.
"Mind ya own business, Hawk." She scowled.
"You two back togedda again?" Spot rolled his eyes.
"Ain't none a' ya goddamn business." She snapped, trudging upstairs to the bunkroom and ignoring the looks she was getting from the other newsies. They should have been used to these kind of reactions by now, she hated when people pried about anything in her life what-so-ever.
Throwing herself onto her bunk she buried her face in her pillow. So yes, Finch and her were together again but it didn't bring happiness to her life. It never had. He was just another element to her everyday occurrences. Everyday she woke up, got ready, sold papers, went to lunch, sometimes with Finch or by herself, sold the evening edition, and then went back to Furman St. It was routine. Life was simple. But stopping to think now, she wondered if she really wanted a simple life. Excitement and chaos hadn't brought anything good in the past, but still. . . . she pushed these thoughts away though and began to drift into a dreamless sleep.
Author's Note: So far, short I know. If things get confusing later on with characters in the Lodging House, it's probably because this story was originally written for a Lodging House that Monday Crivelli and I ran and all the necessary profile information is on that page. Oh, and by the way, for any old "listies" out there, this is West. Figured it was time I posted in this section again, but with my in-use penname.
Black Star Riley lived a simple, but not happy, existence. That was, until Rivers Cavanagh came along, turning her life, and the Brooklyn Lodging House, upside down.
Pushing strands of long, dark hair off her face, Black Star Riley grimaced and pushed her black bowler hat back a little so it didn't mask her face as much as she usually liked it to. July in Brooklyn had brought its usual hot, muggy weather making selling papers not the most desirable pastime.
"DEAD CORPSE FOUND IN GUTTER SUSPECTED TO BE RICH MANHATTENER!" Black Star called out loudly. Usually quiet and reserved, Black Star could be fairly loud when it came to selling papers. . . . anything helping her to get food on the table for herself was fair play, after all.
"Hey Star, how's da headlines?" Turning in the direction of the voice and squinting against the bright sunlight she saw it was Finch McCully. Finch was a Lower Manhattan newsie, lived with Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins, Mush Meyers, and the whole gang down there. So naturally, seeing him in Brooklyn was a rather unusual sight.
"Alright, I guess. Why aren'tcha hawking da headlines ya self?" Black Star questioned.
"I missed ya." Finch said with a sheepish grin.
"Oh?" Black Star could see where this was going. She and Finch had been "seeing" each other on and off ever since she'd been introduced to him, three months after she'd first moved into the Furman St. house. They were the epitome of the odd couple, Black Star Riley being the quiet, sad type and Finch McCulley being the loud, optimistic kind. This had caused much conflict between the two and they were always breaking up and getting back together.
"Yeah, and I was wonderin' if maybe you'd let me take you out tanight." Finch said with a charming smile.
"Depends." Black Star shrugged.
"On what?" Finch demanded.
"On. . . . t'ings." She replied. This argument went on for a few more minutes, resulting in Finch winning over her of course, mostly because it was just easier to give in.
"So, how is Mr. Finch McCully, anyway?" Was the first question Black Star heard once she came home that night from dinner with Finch.
"Mind ya own business, Hawk." She scowled.
"You two back togedda again?" Spot rolled his eyes.
"Ain't none a' ya goddamn business." She snapped, trudging upstairs to the bunkroom and ignoring the looks she was getting from the other newsies. They should have been used to these kind of reactions by now, she hated when people pried about anything in her life what-so-ever.
Throwing herself onto her bunk she buried her face in her pillow. So yes, Finch and her were together again but it didn't bring happiness to her life. It never had. He was just another element to her everyday occurrences. Everyday she woke up, got ready, sold papers, went to lunch, sometimes with Finch or by herself, sold the evening edition, and then went back to Furman St. It was routine. Life was simple. But stopping to think now, she wondered if she really wanted a simple life. Excitement and chaos hadn't brought anything good in the past, but still. . . . she pushed these thoughts away though and began to drift into a dreamless sleep.
Author's Note: So far, short I know. If things get confusing later on with characters in the Lodging House, it's probably because this story was originally written for a Lodging House that Monday Crivelli and I ran and all the necessary profile information is on that page. Oh, and by the way, for any old "listies" out there, this is West. Figured it was time I posted in this section again, but with my in-use penname.