Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or any of its characters, they belong to Disney. I do not own Floaty, she belongs to DimensionalTraveller. I own Laurie and Victoria and the Boarding House, and the name Josiah Kingston.
(A/N: Hi everyone, thank you all so much for the great reviews and the story/author adds. :-))
Pulitzer's party began at eight o'clock sharp and ended a few minutes before midnight. The attendees had mainly been newspaper tycoons, though there were two big named reporters, and a general who was visiting New York for him and his wife's honeymoon. Floaty had been on her feet all night, serving drinks and appetizers; taking away dirty cups, silverware and plates; and making small talk with the guests. After everyone had left, she had gathered all the dirty china plates and bowls, silverware, cups, and silk napkins into a large wicker basket lined with an old patchwork blanket. She folded the blanket over the bundle of eatery and carried it out to Pulitzer's carriage; it was well known by all of Pulitzer's personal employees that Mrs. Pulitzer became a very, very angry woman when it came to destroyed dishware…and Pulitzer was terrified of her when she was angry.
"Hey, nice night."
Floaty jumped and gave a small cry of alarm that was cut short when the back of her head hit the upper threshold of the carriage. She placed her hand at the back of her head and gave a small moan before turning towards the voice.
Spot Conlon leaned against the carriage with his arms crossed, a smirk plastered on his face.
"Don't do that! What are you doing here?" Floaty hissed in annoyance as she sat down on the step of the carriage.
"It's just little bump," Spot replied as he sat down on the cobblestone street in front of her. When she glared at him he shrugged, twitched and muttered, "Are ya ok?"
"Yes, I'm fine….No thanks to you, of course."
"Hey, if ya had passed out ya would be thankin' me! I would've brought you to a hospital!"
"Well….Thank you," Floaty replied. She was still wary around the Newsie King; however, at the moment, she was considering him more of a nuisance than a feared leader. "Why were you out here this late? Shouldn't you be in Brooklyn?"
"Everyone in Brooklyn's asleep, da lodgin' house is filled with snores, snorts, and farts. Why be there when I can be doin' something interesting?"
Floaty raised her eyebrow, she was used to human body functions, but it was nice to hear the word 'farts' instead of 'poofs.' "So you decided to come to the World Building….because…."
"To see you! This afternoon's conversation was interestin' and I thought another conversation would be interestin' too."
Floaty stared at him, her face expressionless.
Spot's face contorted with surprise, "If I told some other woman I had come to see her, she'd be blushin', messin' with her hair, and all those other weird things you girls do; then she'd giggled and be honored. You just stare at me, not even the least bit grateful for a well-needed break from the hoity-toities. You break me heart, Floaty."
"Get over it," Floaty quipped, "Do you know how much trouble you could get us both into right now? Pulitzer could have you thrown into the refuge for trespassing! He could fire me, and make sure no boarding house in this area will take me in!"
Spot shrugged, "First of all, the World Building is a public building. So it don't matter whose around, it's for the public."
"Not during the night it's not. It's for employees only."
Spot smirked, "Sure it is! I'm a World employee; I sell ole Joe's papes!"
Floaty shook her head, "Never mind."
"And if you were so concerned with your job, you would've run back into that building without so much as lookin' at me. Eh? Eh?" He smiled triumphantly as her loss of words.
Floaty crossed her arms, "I am concerned for my job, I'm just tired. I've spent all night catering to…" She stopped and stared at Spot took a small finger sandwich out from his pocket.
He stared at her, "Well, keep goin'."
"How did you get that?"
"Cause ya catered it to me!"
"I did not! You weren't in there!"
"Yeah I was! I was Mr. Kingston, the reporter from Queens who wrote about the Cowboy who jumped on Roosevelt's carriage and escaped the refuge a few months ago." Spot's face was filled with pride.
"Wait….That was you! You're the reporter, Josiah Kingston?"
Spot smirked, "See, I got a day job when I want one! The World just don't know it, I sneak any articles I write to a cute little secretary who types it up and makes sure it's published into the papes."
"Great, now you're getting a secretary in trouble," Floaty muttered.
Spot laughed, "You're excited about all this action and adventure, but you're tryin' to be lady like and ignore what ya hear. Yeah, I know a newsgirl a lot like ya. Her names Alley, she's called 'The Heart of Brooklyn,' cause I found her when I was a kid, she's like a sister to me. You two would get along real well."
"Emmalyn, Mr. Pulitzer wants you back inside now so stop resting and start walking!" Jonathan, Mr. Pulitzer's accountant, huffed as he walked back into the building and shut the door behind him.
"See! You are glad I came! Ya needed a break, and ya got one….Plus it was interestin'."
Floaty started to stand and Spot grabbed her wrist, "Ya got a minute more….In that time answer these questions: Where were ya born? How come I haven't seen ya around? And how do ya feel about Brooklyn?"
Floaty glanced back at the window; Spot gently shook her hand and arm.
"C'mon, girl, tell me. Forget the hoity-toities for a minute!"
Floaty sighed, "Then will you just go so I can keep my job?"
"I swear on me heart; I'll run back to Brooklyn without lookin' back!" The wide mischievous smile on his face made Floaty doubtful he'd fulfill that promise.
Giving him the benefit of a doubt she sighed, "Fine. I was born in Claddagh, Ireland; I only go into Brooklyn maybe two to three times each week and its mainly to the World Distribution Center – between paper buying times – and to Angelina's Bakery, so there's little chance you'd see me; and….Brooklyn's a dangerous town, but I…kind of like it." The moment she said she liked Brooklyn she knew she had made a mistake. Spot's grin had widened (which she thought was impossible).
"See ya in the mornin', Floats….Oh, and ask Sykes in the mornin' why the Brooklyn Bridge is an eighth wonder."
"Emmalyn!" Jonathan shouted from the door once again, "Now!"
"I'm on my way!" She exclaimed as she stood and walked quickly and braced her left arm.
"What's wrong with your arm?" Jonathan stared at her left arm and backed away from it, as if at any moment the appendage would become a snake and bite him.
"I fell and when I landed, I twisted my arm."
Morning came early to the Annalise Boarding House for Women; the factory girls, teens, and women woke and got ready at the same time Floaty did. All around her people hustled past one another as they prepared for the morning ahead of them. Unlike the Manhattan Newsies Lodging House, which was always friendly and inviting, the atmosphere was dark. The women were almost constantly grouchy, and never once did anyone break out into song. The first morning Floaty had spent in the boarding house, she had begun singing and everyone shouted at her to be quiet. No, the Annalise Boarding House for Women was not a friendly place what so ever.
However, it wasn't completely unbearable; there were a few nice people. The little girl who slept in the bunk bed above Floaty's was kind. Her name was Victoria Tanya MacDunn. She was a sweet little girl with golden blonde hair and wide brown eyes; she had an oval shaped face and she always reminded Floaty of an angel. Then, there was Laurie Whittaker, a plump middle aged woman with constantly frizzed gray hair. Laurie had a square shaped face, blue eyes, and a smile that could melt the iciest heart (Floaty hoped Laurie's smile could melt Pulitzer's heart).
"G'morning, m'darlings, how are ye this fine mornin'?" Laurie questioned as she helped Victoria out of her night dress and into her old and worn blouse which was stained black, gray, and brown in some places from machinery oil, rust, and dust.
"I had a dream about a pony!" Victoria beamed. "And on the pony was my mommy and daddy and they came here to take me home to the castle!"
"Really? Y'don't say? Well, then, do me a favor, love, when your parents come to take ye to the castle, bring me with ye, yes?" The Scottish woman beamed and pinched Laurie's cheek.
"Okay!"
"And how about ye, Miss Emmalyn? Ye sleep alright, lass?"
"Yes, though….If you have time….I really need to talk to someone," Floaty replied as she pulled her brown skirt up to her waist and buttoned it.
"Of course, love. Victoria, y'go brush your teeth now, and remember use the…"
"I know…I know…the icky tasting stuff you call toothpaste," Victoria grumbled as she stomped off. People didn't used to brush their teeth a few decades ago, however Civil War soldiers were instructed to brush their teeth in hopes in spread the habit around. After the War Between the States had ended, many people in America were beginning to brush their teeth, except for people out west and Indians.
"Well, then, what do ye need to talk to me about?"
"I met a boy who's around my age…maybe a little older….His name is Spot Conlon."
"Spot Conlon?" Laurie questioned wide eyed, "Ye don't say. All the girls in the factory are always abuzz about him. They call him the Newsie King; it even sounds as if a few adults are afraid o' him."
"I've heard the same thing….But have you heard stories of Spot….Not leaving a person alone?"
Laurie paused, "Ooh, he's not leavin' ye alone, ye say?" A wide smile crossed her face, "It sounds to me like this Spot Conlon likes ye very much. Oooh, just ye wait to until I tell people in the factory! The girls will be green with envy, they will! Ole Laurie isn't as washed up as they thought!"
Floaty was about to ask the older woman not to tell anyone, but Victoria came stomping back over to the older woman. She opened her mouth and showed off her teeth.
"See! Their brushed," she pouted, "And now they taste icky!"
Laurie laughed, "Well, they'll taste good after breakfast this mornin'. Emmalyn, love, go with your heart on this. If it feels right….Follow the current; if not for yourself, then for Victoria and m'self. We want to see you happy, love."
"I want to see you both happy as well," Floaty smiled as she hugged Laurie and Victoria.
"Oh, one day this ole woman will have enough money to find herself a new job, and I'll take Victoria with me." Laurie smiled, "Now, ye best go. This employer of yours is such a mean one!"
"Amen," Floaty laughed before she turned and grabbed her messenger bag. As she walked out of the boarding house she was met with scowls and stares from a few of the girls around her age. Obviously they had overheard her conversation with Laurie.
"Stay away from Spot Conlon," one of the girls hissed, "He doesn't like whore-trash like you, Irish girl!"
Floaty shrugged past the girl and ignored her. Unlike these girls, she wasn't chasing after Spot, if anything she was trying to get him to leave her alone. It was Spot who was chasing her!
The gates of the World Distribution Center looked lonely without Jack hanging off of them; Oscar and Morris Delancey even appeared to be upset.
"Good morning," Floaty reluctantly greeted the two brothers. Each morning before going to the World Building, she always stopped by the Distribution center to see if Weasel or the Delancey's needed anything delivered. "Do you have any messages for Mr. Pulitzer?"
"No," Morris grumbled.
"Yeah, I got one," Oscar sneered, "Lower the prices so the newsies will come back. This place is borin'!"
"Why Oscar, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you missed Jack." Floaty beamed as Weasel handed her an envelope. She deposited it into her bag, "Alright guys, one last time: Any letters? It's now or never."
"I don't miss Cowboy," Oscar snarled, "I miss seein' the money, now get outta our faces!"
Floaty rolled her eyes and left the Distribution Center and walked over to the World Building. On her way she kept her eyes out for Jack and the newsies, however the streets were bare. She bit her lip, she had to agree with Oscar, without the newsies, life in New York was rather dull.
"Morning, Emmalyn, did you think about what we talked about yesterday?" Agatha questioned from her desk.
"Yes, and I gave you my answer," Floaty retorted as she knocked on Pulitzer's door.
"Well, I happen to know you're still talking to the newsies," the secretary sniffed, "My beau, Morris, told me so."
"Morris Delancey is courting you?"
"Yes, why?" Agatha tensed, and for a moment she reminded Floaty of an angry wildcat.
"You two deserve each other," Floaty smiled. "Behind every good man is a good woman," she chided before Jonathan swung open the door and she entered the office. For a moment Floaty wondered if Agatha had picked up on her sarcasm, but doubted it.
"Emmalyn," Pulitzer nodded, "Your messages are in the usual place."
"Yes, Mr. Pulitzer," she nodded and took the message out of her bag, then handed it to him. "From Mr. Wiesel, sir."
"Thank you, get your messages. Be back no later than mid-afternoon….Oh, and," he handed her three pennies, "For your time last night."
Three pennies, whoop-dee-doo! Floaty thought to herself but forced herself to smile, "Thank you, sir."
He nodded as he opened the letter, "Emmalyn, wait."
"Alright sir…" she paused near the door and watched as Pulitzer read the note. What was it about she wondered? She glanced across the room to Sykes, who was sitting on a sofa, his attention focused on Pulitzer.
"Emmalyn, hand me the letters I just gave you."
"Yes, sir," she replied and handed him back the pile of letters. Floaty's stomach twisted, was Pulitzer about to fire her? Did Weasel find out that she was helping the newsies? How could he have found out so soon?
"My reporter, Josiah Kingston, has a good headline but he can't get it to me without another reporter getting hold of it. Go to Brooklyn right away and get it and bring it back here, then take these messages and deliver them." Pulitzer ordered as he waved her off.
"Yes, sir," she glanced at Sykes, who stood and walked her towards the door.
"I know what you're going to ask," Sykes muttered to her, "Here's the answer: Brooklyn's the eighth wonder because he'll meet you on the eighth dock." When she walked out of the room, he once again shut the door in her face.
"Have a nice time!" Agatha exclaimed with a mock-wave, she had obviously picked up on the earlier sarcasm.
Floaty groaned as she walked out of the World Building, and paused for a moment to stretch her legs to get herself ready for the run. She took off in a sprint a moment later, her skirt flapping around her ankles and the breeze pushing her hair back. She had learned long ago as a child that when one ran, they needed to inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth. This kept her from having to stop so often to catch her breath. As she ran past the statue of Horace Greeley she was pleasantly surprised to see the newsies singing and dancing.
"….Nothing can break us, no one can make us give our rights away, so arise and seize the day! Neighbor to neighbor, father to son….." They sang as Racetrack played his harmonica.
She continued on her run and paused when she reached the beginning of the bridge. She leaned against the railing and took a minute to catch her breath. The morning sunlight cast a gentle warmth on her body, and reminded her of her father's hugs. She stood a moment later and began her run to Brooklyn once again. As she ran past a few women stepped out of the way, disgust on their faces; why is a young woman doing a man's job? Their faces seemed to ask. Other women smiled and nodded towards her, they had seen her for years. Men rarely paid her attention, they were usually focused on their work or business meetings; once in a blue moon Floaty had trouble with one, but not often.
Floaty skidded to a halt in front of the eighth dock and was greeted by Spot walking calmly towards her with a muffin and cup of coffee in hand.
"You….had…me…run…all…this…way….for…THIS?" She panted and hunched over, she glared up at him. "My job….Is…Hard….Enough….With…Out…You…complicating…things!"
"Quit talkin'," Spot ordered, "Ya need to catch your breath. Runnin' around like that all the time ain't healthy ya know!" He wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her over to a fisherman's rest. She climbed atop two pilings to reach it and sat down; she gave him a nod of thanks.
"Here, ya gotta be starved," he placed the food and drink into her hands and climbed up on the Fisherman's rest beside her. "So, what are Jacky-boy's newsies doin'?"
Floaty glared at Spot long and hard, debating with herself on whether she could eat the muffin and drink the coffee. Her stomach growled. Sometimes, Floaty really hated her stomach. She took a small sip of the barely warm coffee and swallowed it.
"I saw them singing and dancing, I believe they're rallying together and getting into the spirit of things. They're stronger and more courageous than you think."
"Well, if Jacky-boy's serious about this strike, I'll know soon enough. So wanna know what the headline is?"
"I'd love too, Mr. Kingston. I know why you chose that name, Kingston. Because it implies 'King'."
"Nothin' gets past you, does it?" Spot smirked with a sparkle in his eye. He hopped of the fisherman's rest and helped her down onto the dock when she finished her breakfast.
"Thank you for the breakfast, you didn't have to do that and shouldn't have."
Spot shrugged, "I didn't mind, you'd do the same for me."
"And how do you figure that?" Floaty replied as she followed him down the dock.
Spot glanced behind her shoulder at her and smirked, "Because in the end I'd be irresistible to ya, like a little lost puppy dog beggin' ya for help. You couldn't turn me down. I've got a way with women, ya know."
"So I hear. What's this marvelous headline Pulitzer is so worked up about?"
"That," Spot replied and pointed towards a capsized boat. Floaty leaned forward and stared at it, suddenly a flashback raced through her mind.
She was sitting on her father's shoulders, beside them stood a tall man with a brown haired little boy on his shoulders.
"Look, papa, it's Amery-ca!" He shouted with a joyful smile.
The flashback ended and Floaty blinked.
"….That's the same boat that brought me and me pop over to America."
"Really?" Floaty asked in surprise, "That's the same boat I was on with my father….I remember my father was standing next to a tall man with black hair. He had a little boy with brown hair and blue eyes on…his…shoulder…." She stopped and glanced at Spot and almost groaned at seeing the huge smile on his face.
"I know, when ya said you were from Ireland I began ta wonder about that. I saw the ship capsize last night." Spot paused, "You used to live in Claddagh, Ireland?"
"Yes….You too?"
Spot nodded, "We were neighbors, I was wonderin' where I saw ya from the first time when Jacky Boy brought ya here. I got the article all written up," he placed the sheet of paper in her hand, "There ya go."
"Wait a second….A hello, a quick breakfast, you give me this surprise, then hand me this article and send me on my way?" Floaty stared at the paper then at Spot. "I ran all this way…"
"To do your job, you did it with a reward, so now ya go back to Pulitzer and deliver it. Ya can thank me later," he smirked as he walked past her.
"Where are you going?" She stared at the newsboy king in exasperation. Spot was enough to drive anyone insane!
He bent down and grabbed a pile of newspapers, "To make a livin'!"
"Spot Conlon!"
Spot turned, "Yes, Floats," he beamed, "I'll see ya for dinner at eight o'clock at Tibby's."
"What? I said no such thing!" Floaty shouted after her and ran towards him; Spot looked over his shoulder, laughed, and ran off. Floaty stopped a few minutes later when she reached the base of the bridge. Spot had outrun her! "Oooh….Darn you anyway, Spot Conlon!"