Uhhhhh I'm back! Hopefully i can upload chapters every other week, but bls don't kill me if i fuck up or anything,,,,,,,.,..,,.,. Also to the guest who asked, it'll have some of that spicy jatherine. Hopefully I can finish this and not just fuckin abandon it but I mean,,,,, uh just some notes Dave (along with being a newsboy) works at Jacobi's, which is the equivalent of the diner Chloe works at, Darcy is a lawyer and makes a small cameo, we introduce Morris, and Katherine has a relationship with all the boys bc they've been delivering her papers for a long time and she knows all of them, including jack, who usually delivers her papers.
(ohalsoDaveybreaks-and-entersjustaquickheadsupokbyyyee)
Katherine slows as she approaches the small counter in the large, imposing courthouse, the smell of grease and yeasty bread welcoming her like a warm quilt. She leans against the counter, listening to the quiet, agitated murmurs of Davey from his place in the back room.
She could be considered a regular, sneaking away during her father's many business meetings and grabbing a quick meal or just some conversation.
But this time, she was here for a different reason. Sure, she always came for food, so many times that she didn't even have to order, it was usually just made, but she had a different order.
Spot had mentioned something about craving a certain sandwich from Jacobi's, and Katherine, happy to get out for a bit, had eagerly written down and gone to fetch his order.
She perks up when Davey walks out of the small back-room, wiping his hands on his apron and muttering under his breath about bread and tomatoes.
"David Jacobs, were you aware that last time I ate here, you didn't pay me my full amount of change?"
The boy in question laughs quietly and rubs his eyes in fake exhaustion. He shrugs apologetically and starts preparing a salad.
"Sorry, Kath. The usual?"
"Actually, Davey, I'm gonna try something different today. Can I get a," she glances down at the small note in her hand, skimming over the few reminders of things she needed to do today, and reads off the sandwich Spot requested, "pastrami on rye?"
Dabids eybrows raise at her request, but he assembles the sandwich anyway. "That's usually Jack and the boys' usual orders. How much tiemhave you been spending with them recently? Oh my god-" he stops, pretending to be frantic, glancing up at her with fear in his eyes, "are they rubbing off on you? Talk, I need to know if you have an accent."
When she doesn't say anything, he starts shaking her shoulders, panicked. "Speak, Katherine, speak!" She shrugs him off and laughs heartily.
"As if I would spend my free time with them. Seeing them for five minutes a day is enough for me, thank you very much."
Davey hands her sandwich over and starts ringing her up. She hands him a random amount of money and stands up straighter, running the sore spot on her side from leaning against the counter.
The door at the far end of the courthouse opens, and countless lawyers and businessmen spill out. She waves at Darcy as he trudges out, looking tired. The men stride confidently over to the benches spread around, intending to spend their short lunch break by themselves, savoring their tiny amount of freedom from the stuffy rooms they stay cooped up in. At least, that what Katherine would do. She wasn't sure she could spend all day in those tiny offices like that, with only a few windows letting in minimal amounts of daylight.
Just the thought makes her claustrophobic. She may stay in her house all day, but at least she has a fire escape to climb out onto to get fresh air, the boys, and now Spot, to talk to. It could be worse.
She's snapped out of her horrific daydream when the cash register dings and Dave hands her the change, plus three extra cents. "Is that all, because I have to get back to stocking shelves," he says, wiping his hands on his apron again and backing towards the door. Katherine stops him.
"Actually, I have one little favor. Get comfortable and write this down, it might take a while."
Davey looks at the house looming in front of him, sighing and hiding his face in his hands. His head shoots up when Katherine knocks on his window and he unlocks the door. She climbs in, wrinkling her nose at the water bottles littering the floor and the Pop-Tart wrappers glittering metallic in the dim sunlight.
"Davey, this thing is a pigsty. Do you even clean it?" Davey waves his hand in a dismissing motion, taking a swig from of the mentioned water bottles. He grimaces when he notices the backwash swirling around the bottom. Definitely not his water, he realizes all too late.
"You can thank Les for all that. He likes to shove all the food in his mouth at once on the way to Newsie Square, thinks it's cute or cool or somethin', all because Jack saw him do it once, and just about laughed his ass off."
Katherine doesn't pay any mind to him, gazing at the house they were parked in front of.
"Okay, here's the plan. You go in, get the box, and make it fast. Father's business meeting ends in thirty minutes, and if I'm late, I'll never leave that house again."
Davey nods and dutifully climbs out of the car. The door slams shut behind him and he glaances one more time at Katherine in the car. She gives a thumbs up and an enthusiastic grin, then locks the doors.
He glares at her.
Starting up the sidewalk, he glances at the house warily. There are fallen leaves, a yard that looks like it hasn't been tended to in a long time, because there are beer cans and cigarette buds and unmowed grass.
He makes it to the front porch and looks in the screen door. Despite it being the beginning of winter, with hints of snow along the way, the front door is wide open and the inside is worse than the outside.
It's a small house, shabby, worn furniture, and there's trash everywhere. Davey doesn't want to know what Katherine needs in this house, and why he has to retrieve it, but he might as well get it over with.
He slowly slinks in the house, making sure the door doesn't slam behind him. He looks around at the small living room he's in and his breath hitches, stops completely, his lungs apparently don't work anymore, that's fun, but he has a good reason for that.
There is a man sleeping on the couch.
Davey runs down the hall as silently and as fast as he can, wasting no time in swerving in the first room he can. He slowly closes the door behind him, wincing as it clicks in to place.
He slides down and flops on the floor, resting his chin in his hands, heart beating wildly. Then he realizes, he's in a bedroom.
He sees a closet with the door slightly ajar and crawls on his hands and knees over to it. He opens it and it creaks, making him wince.
Inside there are boxes sickened on to of each other, labeled with illegible things, but he can occasionally make out words like 'race', 'spot', and 'kitchen'. He grabs a random one, with what he thinks is labeled with 'spot and-'. He can't read the last words, but the box is heavy, and he wants to get out of there as quickly as fast as he can before that guy wakes up and-
And he hears a creak.
Footsteps shuffling down the hallway.
A door opening.
The soft patter of footsteps in the room beside him.
David wastes no time in picking up the box and hightailing it out of there. He opens the door quickly, running down the hallway, praying nothing fell out of the over-filled box, into the living room.
He faintly hears a toilet flush.
He hears a door open.
He hurries out the front door and down the walk, kicking a beer can out of the way. He prays the door doesn't make a loud noise, but of course, he hears the tell-tale slap of the screen door against the frame, and then the creak of it opening again.
He looks behind him and sees a handsome man, clean-shaved, with dark hair, a tie hanging loose around his neck, and-is that a bowler hat? hanging off his head.
"Hey!" He calls, leaning against the door frame, "whataya doin'? Is that my stuff?"
Davey ignores him, nearly running to the car. He hears the car doors click, telling him the doors are unlocked. He shoves the box in the back and climbs in the front seat.
He ignores Katherine's confused looks and questions, instead putting the car in gear and backing out. He heads for the restaurant, because Katherine's car is still there, and they dont talk for the rest of the ride.
Katherine checks her clock for the third time in five minutes. 10:16.
Her father should be sleeping by now, if tonight went the same way they always do.
She peaks her head out the door and sees that all the lights in the hallway are off, besides the little bit of light pouring out her room. She whispers a quick "be right back" to Spot, then tiptoes out into the hall.
Halfway down the stairs, Hannah peeks her head around the corner and shines a tiny flashlight on her. Katherine stops and turns, smiling sheepishly at her. Hannah nods understandingly and goes back to her room, turning the flashlight off, and Katherine breathes a sigh of relief.
She tiptoes down the rest of the stairs and out the door. She curls her toes against the freezing pavement and runs to the car, opening the door quietly and grabbing the heavy, bulky box in the back.
She creeps up the stairs into the house again, thanking whoever was in the sky that her father didn't hear her.
"Wha's that?" Spot asks, craning his head to see what was in the bag. She drops it on the floor with an unceremonious thump.
"Ta-daa! I got you some stuff from your house. Now you don't have to spend your free time looking at my clothes and trying to type on my typewriter. You're welcome."
Instead of being grateful, Spot glances up at her. He was no longer soaked, and his face was clean, but there's still a faint scent of water and tobacco surrounding him.
"You what? Ya went inta m' house?"
Katherine blinks, confused. She knew he probably wouldn't have been outright ecstatic, but she assumed there would be a little more enthusiasm to it. "Uh, yeah. There was a weird guy at the door, but he didn't say anything, I don't think."
"Delancy." Spot spits.
"You know him?"
He snorts. "Know him? I hate the guy. Hate that he's livin' in m' house. That were me an' Race's house. We was gonna sell it fer a nice little one on the opposite side o' town."
As fast as the grim moodlet is brought on, it disappears. Spot opens the box and looks inside. "Hey, ya even got th' right box! This was me an' Race's stuff, 'fore I left."
Katherine sits on her bed, fiddling with the hem of her loose t-shirt. "Oh, I didn't get the box. Davey did."
Spot lets out an obvious breath of relief. "O' thank god. I was worried there for a sec."
"Why? He didn't seem too bad."
Spot laughs a breathless, humorless laugh, not looking up from his box of trinkets and memorabilia. "He's a womanizer. And a pretty bad one, at that. Don't stop 'till he gets what he wants. Don't think I gotta go inta' much detail."
Katherine nods. The tension in the air was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Thankfully, Spot finds something funny and waves Katherine over. "C'mere, ya gotta see this, I forgot it existed..."
They spend the next hour like that, laughing over old shirts and similar things, notebooks filled with notes and sketches of Race and Spot, with their proportions so out of wack only a professional (read: Jack) could have drawn them.
Sometime around then, Katherine remembered the sandwich and mentioned it to Spot, who refused to take it.
He let her eat it.
Jkghdfgkfkjg guys im sorry this chapter is so short, I didn't know where it was going and couldn't find a good spot to end it uuggghh.,,, uh yeah, Davey broke into house and im so proud of my him for it. I actually dont have a lot to say surprise surprise, but i watched the tuck everlasting bootleg earlier and was sobbing like a baby if that news. (Its not, i cry abt everything) uhhh, follow, favorite, and review, lemme know what you think, they genuinely make me (almost) sob every time i get a review!
have a great day/night, wherever you are!