Disclaimer: I do not own "Newsies" or any of the genius associated to them. Disney owns them, no infringement intended. I am not making money from this in any way, I claim no rights to the characters mentioned from the movie, but I do claim the plot and the ideas surrounding this story. I don't own Spot, I own Mary and Snaps, and Ireland owns herself. Don't steal, don't sue, and I'm sure we will all be grand friends.
A/N: Yeah, so now I am focusing on this story I guess. Ah well, I'll get to Blind Spot when I get to it. Sorry all, I just really like this story right now. Note: This story is from a first person point of view, but the point of view changing nearly every chapter. As I change the point of view, the words I use the way I describe things alter slightly. This is because I am not going to use ten-dollar words for a girl or boy who haven't been as educated as an upper-class girl does. So keep that in mind.
Warning: PG-13 (language)
Chapter 4: Repercussions
He had always watched out for me in a way which grew more distant the more powerful he became, but I had always known that I could count on him. I understood why things were the way they were. I may not be book-learned but I'm not stupid.
He treated me just like he treated every other boy in the group. He expected me to pay my own way and fight my own battles, and I did. I could always count on him to be there if a boy was too forceful, but so could every other girl in the borough. Spot had a low tolerance for all things nonconsensual, even more so since Mary. I didn't expect special treatment, but sometimes I missed having a brother instead of the cocky Brooklyn leader we all knew.
Good old Spotty – we all loved to hate him. Hate was probably a term a bit too strong, but no one really loved him. At times I wondered if I did. Everyone had a respect for him. The respect was rooted in a deep fear that some of the awful rumors about him might be true and we would find out their truth the hard way. Others envied him, and that was understandable. He wasn't the best looking mug in the group but the ladies didn't seem to mind. He was a strange character, just the right blend between power, charm, brains, and brawn. By no means was he the biggest or the best in anything really, but he was good enough at everything that he managed to beat everyone every time.
Don't talk to anyone about any of this. I remembered the harsh, commanding words. Don't think of it as telling – think of it as ordering.
Everyone that was anyone in the newsie rings already knew the story of Spot and Mary, or at least enough to let it be. There were a lot of stories about the Mary and Spot. Most of them I'd made up with Ireland or Jack to save my Spot's ass. What could it hurt to tell some random girl that had fallen victim to my half-brother's charm? It was true that he might beat the hell out of me if he found out that I had told this girl anything it would almost be worth it.
I had defended him in the diner when that dame had been asking so many damn questions. I had covered his drunk ass when he'd come back to the lodging house time and time again three sheets to the wind because of Mary. I'd kept my distance and made sure that others did the same. I'd spread the rumors about the boys that left the lodging house as being kicked out from crossing Spot. I'd kept my side of the bargain even when it wasn't easy, so for my goddamn half-brother to go around ordering me to do something, like a child, like I'd ever let him down before, pissed me off.
Ordering me! Of course he was the leader, of course he was in command, but this was a personal matter! A personal matter that I never betrayed at my own discomfort, and hell, I am a newsie! My job is to tell stories and make interesting headline. Who really gave a rat's ass about whether or not some broad was asking about Mary besides my egocentric half-brother?
The blue sky was clear as the sun sank down towards the horizon. Night would come within a few hours and I was glad for not swimming this day mid-August day. I wouldn't have time to dry out and I'd be miserable all night. Unlike the boys I couldn't just strip off my wet clothes and let them dry on the docks. Well, I could – but Spot would drown me. Looking back towards the long span of boards covered with crates and fishing supplies. Some of it was long abandoned, but made great perches for the swimmers. I could still barely make out Spot still sat like a king atop the crates. Sometimes his cane glinted in the afternoon sun. Even though he was little more than a shadow against the backdrop of the sky I could tell that his back was much more rigid than his normal pose and I smiled inwardly. He was mad.
"Snaps!" I heard someone call my name just as I walked off of the docks.
"What do ya want, Ireland?" I asked without waiting for her to catch up to me, without looking to see her. I knew her voice. I also knew that she'd be after me the second after she knew I'd had an audience with the great Brooklyn leader.
I was not in the mood for small talk as tall girl approached me. She was just as tall as I was, but curvier. Her skin was as white as one of those hoity-toity dames of society. When she had first come around these parts, her hair had been shorter then it was now. I figured she'd cut it to blend in with the boys, but now the locks of thick dark blonde hair hung a bit past her shoulders. I'd always hated her for being pretty.
"What didja do to cheese off Brooklyn so badly?" Ireland asked, her cornflower blue eyes flashing with curiosity. I smirked and kept walking.
"Is he pissed?" I returned casually, but inside I smiled. "Didn't notice," I leant against one of the lampposts that were positioned on the corners of the streets and scanned the late afternoon crowds.
"Ya didn't notice?" Ireland looked at me skeptically as she folded her long arms across her chest. Shoving my hands in my pockets I looked at her indignantly.
"Should I have?" I quirked up one eyebrow.
She eyed me suspiciously. Ireland was one of the few people I'd call a friend in the borough, but sometimes she was thick. I wasn't even playing hardball. She was one of the few that I could actually be candid with about the exchange on the dock because she knew as much as I did about Mary. Well, almost.
"Yous the one that talked to him." She accused. I rolled my eyes at her and tucked my tongue into my cheek.
"Yeah, I am." Nodding slowly and I agreed to her statement. Would she understand what I was trying to tell her without spelling it out? Probably not. She already was taking the long way like she always did. Hadn't she heard the talk amongst the boys?
"Now he's pissed." Ireland pried and I nodded again.
Shoving my weight off of the lamppost I started to walk away when she came after me. Matching my lazy pace she followed as I lead her away from the docks. The way she had responded made me think that she thought I was going to run off without giving her an answer. I wasn't looking to run from her - I was just leading her along as far as I could. It was all about getting a reaction. Just like Spot – I lived for the reaction.
"Snaps." She nearly whined. "What is going on?"
People were out and about this afternoon. Mainly it was children fortunate enough not to work playing in the streets. Their cries of joy filled the air along with the sounds of every day life. The sound of a horse's hooves on the cobblestones blended with the sound of a mother calling out to her child. I focus in on these things instead of focusing on Ireland.
"Dammit Snaps, are ya going to tell me or not?" That was the reaction I had been waiting for.
I knew that I had to work pretty hard to get a sweet girl like Ireland to lash out like that. She was a bit of a prude in her language. She preferred what she called 'more romantic words'. She was a rare breed of idealist in a world of idealism had no place. Turning to her with a knowing smirk I tucked my tongue into my cheek before fastening my eyes on the road ahead of me once more.
I could feel Ireland's blue eyes burning holes in my skull and I knew she wanted an answer. She had always been real possessive of Spot and worried when he was upset in any way. I guess that happens when to you once you fuck a guy and are his girl.
Ireland used to be Spot's girl. She wore a key matching his around her neck, which Spot had given her, along with some strange Irish emblem. As far as I knew she never took it off. To me it was nothing but an unneeded reminder of the past. A newsie doesn't want a past. A newsie doesn't want to have anything that could make them weak. Again this is where the idealist in Ireland shone through. She really was a sentimental thing, but no one ever told her that. They were too scared of her temper. She had been with Spot before Mary, and I knew she wanted him back now.
What Ireland saw in Spot – I'd never know.
"Ya know how Spot gets after a long day." I pointed out. "He's a mean bastard if I'se ever seen one." I chuckled to myself, but Ireland didn't seem to share my humor.
I didn't force the issue in an attempt to divert her Irish temper away from me. I wasn't scared of it. I had one of my own to match. Today was just not the day I wanted to deal with it.
"What did ya say to him?" She demanded and I sighed inwardly.
The girl wasn't going to let it go.
I shrugged and looked up at the sky, "I brought up Mary. That's all."
Ireland literally stopped in her tracks. I kept going. Her disbelief tasted good.
"What?" She said a little too loudly as she jogged to catch up. "You did what?" She repeated in a much more hushed tone. It was as though she was asking a great and terrible question and was afraid that anyone would hear it.
"I brought up Mary." I spoke plainly, as if it was an every day occurrence, and I swear her large blue eyes doubled in size. Delivery really is important.
"You what?" Her voice hissed like steam. "Why in the blue hell did ya do that?" Her temper began to seep into her tone.
Her anger struck me as strange. The phenomenon of her over protection of my brother pricked at my jealousy. Friend or not, it irritated me that she was closer to my brother than I ever could be, and I considered not answering her. I thought of holding the rest of the secret close to my chest just to spite her for the intimacy she had and I didn't, but that wouldn't be as fulfilling as defying Spot's orders. The chances of Spot finding out about my disobedience were infinitely better if Ireland was the one I told. She always looked for reasons to approach him, comfort him, it could be perfect. It could be one of the stupidest things I'd done to date.
"A broad came around asking about Mary. I think she was one a Spot's whores, a nosey little bitch." I spat on the ground and saw my saliva mix into the dirt and stones as we walked past.
Ireland said nothing for a short time. I knew it probably hurt her that Spot entertained other women freely now and hadn't gone back to her, but she couldn't control him any more than I could. I wiggled my fingers in my pockets wishing that I would find a cigarette to feed my burning nicotine craving. The few puffs on my last one which Spot had tossed into the water only served to increase my desire.
"Does she know – about Mary that is?" Ireland's voice sounded concerned. As if some girl knowing that Spot had girls before her would hurt him. As if Ireland knowing exactly what happened was the most crucial thing to Spot's happiness.
"Why should she?" I scoffed up at the sky. I flipped my long dark braid over my shoulder. My hair was going to be as hot as hell this summer.
"Cause you told her." It was an accusation and a question tied together.
I shot her a cold look. "All I told her was to mind her own damn business."
Ireland held her hands up as if to deflect the dagger in my gaze. "So how did she know about Mary in the first place? What do ya think she wants to know about her for?"
Ireland pried and now I started to get annoyed. How in the hell was I supposed to know? I'm not a mind reader. I don't even know why this girl would want to be with my brother in the first place. I wracked my brain for an answer, any answer, which might cover her questions.
"The same reason yous asking all these questions." I shot back with a smirk. "Ya care about him." It made sense, and it made Ireland go quiet for a moment.
"Ya don't think…" She started after the pause and then hesitated.
I waited. We were almost back at the lodging house. If she wanted to keep up this conversation she'd better think faster. There was no room for discussions like this in the mixed company of bunk rooms. You never knew how alone you actually were in those thin walls.
We turned onto the lodging house street when she asked a question I hadn't expected.
"Ya don't think that Spot's going to hurt the girl for asking questions, do ya?" She brought up and my mind froze.
I had expected a question wondering if Spot was in love with this girl or if the girl was prettier than she was. I expected a little more jealousy and a lot less compassion and forethought. This question showed honest concern and I scowled slightly. Things Ireland said rarely caught me off guard and even more rarely made me think.
Would he?
Spot was a mean bastard at times, and a jackass to boot, but he wasn't abusively cruel. He wouldn't just hit a dame for no reason. He'd hit me but everyone knew I deserved it. I'd seen him land a punch on girls who challenged him the borough. As far as I knew he'd never hit Ireland but that didn't mean he hadn't. He always had a reason, though. That's what made him different. I'd seen the carnal glow in my half-brother's eyes during a fight, feeding on raw adrenaline, but it never controlled him the way it did some men. He always had a reason.
My silence was my response.
Ireland didn't push the matter because I think she understood. I couldn't give her any reassurance. I had none. I knew Spot knew exactly which girl it was, too. I'd seen it in his eyes. I wouldn't put it past Spot to be aggressive towards that poor girl, but that was what you got for poking your nose where it didn't belong. Maybe she didn't understand that now, but thanks to me the chances are she would soon.
If something were to happen to this girl it would be partly my fault. Spot never would have known if I hadn't felt like getting a reaction from him, if I hadn't been so driven to make him squirm, to pull some sort of response from him. Any other newsie would have kept their gob shut, but I didn't. I pushed him a little further, prodded a little too hard. Hell, he could get carried away and kill her and it would be on my head as well as much as his. I groaned inwardly as Ireland and I pushed into the lodging house.
I was such a damn idiot, sometimes.
Now I really had to find that girl and make sure that she would shut up. Ireland could say what she wanted. I'd handle Spot, and maybe get a few solid punches in on my own, but this girl didn't know the rules. She didn't know the history or the reasons for what we did. Chances were even higher that she never imagined the possible fallout from her curiosity.
I stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading to the bunkroom. Ireland passed by me and paused only once to look back and give me a questioning look.
"I'm not ready to settle in." I shove my hands deep into my pockets, rocking onto my toes.
Ireland gives me a look that lets me know she picked up on my lie, but is too preoccupied to call me out on it. That made me glad because the last thing I needed was to hear myself say my mission out loud. It was ridiculous enough tucked away. I didn't need the judgment, or the company, or the potential blabbing to my brother. What I needed was to find that girl and warn her. How I was going to do that, I wasn't quite sure, but I knew that I had to.
Damn it.
I hated having a conscience.
A/N: *smile* obviously this chapter is dedicated to my friend Ireland O'Reily and I added her into it just because she is such a loyal reviewer. Ha. Moral: Review loyally and I will put you in my stories. Ha. She didn't know I was going to do this, I hope I captured her character in a way she likes. Yeah, anyway, so –uh - REVIEW!
Priscilla2: Heh, yeah, theories are dangerous things. I can normally pick out a plot, but while I was writing this, my whole idea for the chapter had changed by the end. Yeah, I am a dork. Ah well, I have absolutely no idea where I am going with this story, but I hope you continue to enjoy it.
Lucky: I'm glad you like this story and I am so flattered that you think it is original. I like to aim for that in a world of clichés. Thank you much and I hope you continue to enjoy.
Mismatch Quinn: I hope that you continue to enjoy this story as much as I enjoy writing it! Thanks for the compliments.
