III.

And then end life when I end loyalty

Race preferred selling at Sheepshead, where he could see the horse races and place his bets, but the betting was the reason he was in trouble in the first place. It seemed like he owed money all over the city these days, which didn't make him very popular at the races or the gambling tables, no matter how friendly he was, and there was no way he could pay off his debts on paper selling alone.

It was a good thing he ran into all sorts of interesting characters thanks to his hobbies, and Flower in particular was a stroke of good fortune. She claimed her love potion really worked, but she could have filled her little bottles up with ginger ale, for all Race cared. It didn't matter, as long as he had a good selling campaign and people put pennies in his pockets.

He wasn't lying when he told Jack those little bottles sold like hot cakes. By the time morning wore away and headed towards noon, all the love potions had been bought up by eager young men and women and schoolkids with coins to spare. At five cents a bottle, a dozen of those potions earned him sixty cents, which was equal to selling sixty papers in a day. If Race could sell off another dozen, he would be on his way to becoming rich. He knew he would probably lose his impromptu bet with Jack, but what was five cents when he could earn five dollars?

"Hey, kid." Race spotted a younger newsie, one from his own lodging house, who only had several papers left in his hands. "Kid, how many papes did ya sell today?"

"Twenty," said the kid.

Race pushed his own dwindling stack of papers into the boy's hands. "Here's twenty more as a gift. Pretend it's your birthday or somethin'."

At the rate he was going, Race wouldn't need to sell papers for a whole week, but only if Flower agreed to give him more bottles. She was real unpredictable at times, especially if she had been sampling some of her uncle's brew, but when she was in the mood to be generous she was one of the sweetest girls Race had ever met.

If only it wasn't for that spooky grandmother of hers. The old lady gave Race the shivers, but he could tolerate her company if it meant gaining more potions to make a profit.

Carrying his empty potions crate, Race made his way down the street until he reached a pub called Malone's and slipped in through the side entrance, up a flight of stairs that led to the home right above the pub. Fighting down his craving for a cigar, Race kept his hands out of his pockets and knocked twice upon the front door. "Hey, Flower! You in?"

Several seconds passed, and then the door creaked open to reveal a redheaded girl. "Not so loud," she said. "Nana fell asleep recently."

Race tried to hide his relief. "So am I allowed in? I got business to discuss with ya."

"You always got business to discuss. You never come around just to see me, do ya, Race?"

"I'm lookin' at ya right now, doll," Race replied with a wink. "Lemme in, will ya? I got good news."

Flower hesitated, looking Race up and down, but at last she smiled and moved aside so he could enter. "Good news, eh? Did the streets of New York treat you well this mornin'?"

"You get a share of the profits, just like I promised. I even got those shiny nickels ya love so much."

That was the appealing part about Flower; she liked money just as much as Race did. The two of them moved through the apartment quietly, careful not to wake the old grandmother, and Flower led Race into the back room where the bottles of love potion were kept. With her light skin and untamed red hair wisping about her head, she looked a bit like a flower as she stood in the middle of the room, looking at Race with eyes that could change expression at the drop of a hat.

Her real name was Letitia Malone, but only her family called her that. Living with an aunt and uncle who owned their own pub gave her access to spirits at any hour of the day or night, and she often peddled the goods within the gambling circles Race frequented. "So," she said, holding out a hand to Race. "I'll have my thirty cents, if ya please."

Race frowned at her. "How'd ya figure thirty?"

"I know me numbers, Race. A dozen bottles at five cents makes sixty cents, and half of sixty makes thirty."

"Yeah, but who says you're gettin' half? I'm the one who braved the streets for ya."

"And I'm the one who made the stuff."

"How 'bout twenty cents and a kiss from yours truly here? That's a good deal, eh?"

Flower glared at him. "Thirty cents."

"Aw, come on. You never let me kiss ya. And I ain't even had a single cigar yet to boot."

"Well you can kiss your cigar instead. I want half the profits or I ain't givin' you any more bottles to sell."

Race knew a defeat when he saw it. Losing ten cents wasn't so bad if he could earn it back a few times over, but if he kept arguing he wouldn't get a chance to earn it back and Flower might demand more than half her share for his insolence. He never knew with a girl like her, and his usual gambler's instincts never worked in this case, so he grudgingly pulled his earnings out of his pocket and handed thirty cents to Flower.

"There. Ya happy now?"

Flower's stony expression melted away into contentment as she looked down at the coins gathered in her palm. "You're a dear, did ya know that, Race?"

"Hard to tell when you're cursin' me one moment and praisin' me the next," Race muttered.

"Oh, I don't really mean half the things I say. You know that, don'tcha?" Flower pocketed her money and stepped closer to Race, hooking a finger beneath one of his suspenders. "Come on, let's get ya some more of those little moneymakers, shall we?"

She dragged him by the suspender towards an open trunk filled with identical bottles, all filled and closed up with pink stoppers. "You clever girl," said Race. "You figured we'd make good business and got your product all prepared ahead of time. How's about we open a couple of those bottles and drink to good fortune?"

"Absolutely not," said Flower.

"Aw, why not? I know you got liquor or somethin' harmless in there."

"Liquor? Why would I fill these bottles up with liquor, Race? Are you callin' me a liar?"

"Course I ain't callin' you a liar. But you and I both know that there ain't no such thing as love potion. I just tell folks it's the real deal so they'll buy it."

"So you don't believe in magic."

"I believe in doin' what you gotta do to make a buck," said Race. "And I think you believe it too."

"You haven't watched your customers after givin' em the potion, have ya?" said Flower. "You never bothered to see if the stuff actually works, did ya? I know how much you like makin' deals, Race, and I'll make you a deal right here: if I hand over more potions to sell, ya gotta promise me you'll stick by at least one of your customers, just to see if it works."

"Sounds fair enough," said Race. "But this ain't a bettin' kinda deal. You already robbed me of ten cents, and I prob'ly owe five to Jack Kelly, unless you really did put liquor in those bottles and he gets some dame drunk enough to fall in love with him."

"It ain't liquor," Flower said firmly. "You'll get your five cents on that bet, guaranteed."

"You gonna give me five cents of your own if that proves to be false?"

"I thought this wasn't a bettin' kinda deal."

"All right, all right. The deal's on, no bettin.' But I get the last laugh if your little potion here is fake." Race took his empty crate and handed it to Flower. "Fill 'er up."

Flower didn't argue and placed a dozen bottles into the small crate, then put the whole thing into Race's arms. "Remember," she said, moving in close so she could speak in Race's ear. "I get half the profits. Thirty cents, or I'll tip some of that potion into your drink when you ain't lookin' and have you fall in love with a stray dog."

"You ain't gonna settle for twenty cents and a kiss then, are ya? Even though ya flirt with me somethin' scandalous sometimes?"

"When have I ever flirted with you? Get on with you now, and make us a profit, will ya?" But before she moved away from him, Flower squeezed Race's shoulder and gave him a smile that made Race want to strangle her for teasing him so.

Shaking his head over the mystery of girls, Race left the apartment with the goods in his arms and went off to find more victims.


Blink found himself selling more papers when Henrietta was at his side. All she had to do was flash her charming smile, or make her eyes look pitiful, depending on the type of customer, and the pennies came pouring in. Of course, it wasn't all fun and games selling with Henrietta, because he was afraid somebody would recognize her and march her back to her father, and he kept wanting to pull her into alleys and kiss her at the worst moments, but all in all it was an interesting experience. At the rate they were going, Blink would have all his papers sold in no time and could take Henrietta to the lodging house, where the two of them would figure something out.

In the meantime, Blink was getting hungry. The nuns had given him breakfast before he started out for the distribution center, but that was hours ago and the nuns couldn't provide a hearty breakfast when they had countless boys to feed. Henrietta was probably hungry too, though she hadn't complained at all, and Blink promised himself he would stop for something to eat once he earned a few more pennies.

It was hard enough taking care of himself during a long day of work, but now he had an extra person who depended on him.

"Gettin' tired at all?" he asked.

"Tired?" Henrietta echoed. "Why, Blink, I'll never be tired as long as you're here, even if you have to sell papers till nightfall."

"Sometimes I do sell 'em till nightfall. Ya sure you don't wanna go back to your pop?"

"I'll never go back," Henrietta declared, and that was that.

For the first time Blink started to have second thoughts about helping Henrietta run away from home. Sure, he loved being with her all day long and the thought of defying her father was exciting, and he thought everything was going fine until she made that comment about selling until nightfall. Henrietta may not be afraid of anything, but she lived a comfortable life with her father and didn't know anything about working hard day in and day out, or going hungry because of bad headlines, or sleeping outside in the cold because a meal was more important than paying rent on a bunk. She didn't know anything about being judged for being poor and ragged, and she certainly didn't know anything about what it was like to walk the streets and wonder if she would run into her drunken father or her runaway mother.

No, Henrietta wasn't the kind of girl who was made for the streets. She was made for the schoolroom, for the well-furnished parlor, for a boy who could raise her up instead of drag her down. A girl like Henrietta was made for a boy like David Jacobs, and yet she had chosen Blink instead of David, so maybe Blink's sudden misgivings were kind of foolish after all.

If she wasn't meant to be out on the streets with him, then she wouldn't be out here, would she?

Feeling slightly better about the situation, Blink resumed selling papers in earnest while Henrietta helped him reel in the customers. Nobody asked why a girl like Henrietta was tagging along after a newsie, but then again, nobody really bothered much about newsies or the people around them. Blink was like part of the scenery, practically invisible aside from the papers he carried, and the only ones who really paid him any attention were fellow newsies.

Like Racetrack, who wasn't selling at his usual spot over at Sheepshead for some reason.

"Hiya, Blink," Race said the moment they were in speaking distance of each other. "How's the sellin?"

"Not bad," said Blink. "You, uh, ever meet Henrietta at all?"

Blink hadn't bothered to keep Henrietta a secret from the other fellows, mainly because it was almost impossible to keep a girl a secret, and somebody would be bound to find out sooner or later. Nearly everyone in the lodging house knew that Blink had a girl he went and saw most evenings, though none of them had been properly introduced to her. Race's eyes widened with interest the moment he saw Henrietta, and he put on that charming smile he always used when he wanted to strike a deal with someone.

"Aw, so here's the little lady we've all heard about," said Race. "Nice to meet ya. The name's Racetrack Higgins."

"Henrietta Fairbanks," said Henrietta, smiling prettily in return. "Where are your newspapers?"

"Sharp girl ya got here, Blink," said Race. "I ain't got any papes, Miss Henrietta, 'cause I've gone into a new business on the side. I've got an amazing miracle draught here that'll boost your health after just a few sips."

"You're pullin' our legs," said Blink. "I don't believe ya."

"Oh yeah?" Race took one of the little bottles out of the crate with him and pressed it into Blink's hand. "I'll let ya have a sample, free of charge. Take that when you're feelin' tired and I swear you'll feel like a million bucks afterwards."

"That sounds like a good deal to me, Blink," said Henrietta.

"Oh, you don't know this joker, Henrietta. Race will do anything if he thinks he can win somethin' off it."

"Why, that's a bit hurtful, Blink," said Race. "I coulda charged ya five cents for that bottle, but did I? Nah, I let you have it for free, so take it and be grateful. And lemme know how it works, will ya? 'Cause I may not have any deals with you, but I do got a deal runnin' with the girl who supplied the stuff."

Personally Blink didn't care who had a deal with who, or what exactly was in the bottle Race handed him. He just wanted to sell off all his papers, find something to eat, and get Henrietta safely to the lodging house. "Yeah, all right. I'll take your miracle draught and tell you how it works. Henrietta and I gotta get goin' now."

"It was nice meeting you," Henrietta told Race. "Hopefully we'll meet again!"

"I hope so too, darlin.' Lemme know when you get tired of One-Eye over there." Race waved farewell to the two of them and continued down the street, carrying his crate of mysterious bottles.

Blink linked his free arm through Henrietta's and carried on towards the lodging house.