April 2, 1891
She stood outside the unassuming little tavern, staring at it like the building itself was her enemy. Arms crossed over her chest, hip stuck out to one side, she waited, watching for any sign of movement from inside. She'd taken the time that morning to wet down and oil her curls before braiding them, and the smell of violet and sandalwood wafted out as the sun warmed her as she stood in her best clothes. Her papers sat beside her boot in a neat pile while she watched, at first only selling to those who came to her, lost in her thoughts as she was. She wondered if she could stand to spend all of her free time in the hovel in front of her. Could she and Scat really be happy in this life? At that moment she couldn't see how they could have any future at all if he was going to hide decisions that would change everything from her but the thought of a future without him made her sick.
As the city woke up and more and more people began to move around the streets, she had to pick up her papers and actually sell them, but it was easy pickings. The neighborhood made quick work of her stack of papers leaving her time to stand, leaning against the corner of a building, staring across the square at The Fox's Lair until a boyish but deep voice growled, "Pape please," as a huge, square hand held a penny out to her. She ignored him, pretending he wasn't talking to her since she quite obviously had no papers to sell to him.
"Sorry Mister," she said without looking his way, "sold me last a while ago." The proper speech that was drilled into her at school always caught the attention of boys like him and just then she was in no mood to deal with being flirted with.
"Names Niko, Sweetheart. How 'bout you forget about this place and lemme take you out for dinner?" She snorted derisively, chuckling under her breath at him. He growled at her rejection and moved in closer. "Then you's best be moving along. There ain't nothing for a sweet thing like you in there." His gruff voice, still pitchy with youth went from flirtatious to unpleasant and moody in an instant.
She raised her well-arched, tawny eyebrows, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. "Its a free country, I can stand here if I like." His body was squat, stocky and square, just like the rough hand that he handed her the penny with. He looked at her with eyes so dark they were nearly as black as the hair that peaked out from under his oversized bowler hat, falling in oily curls behind his ears.
"Move along before someone thinks you's casing the joint."
For the first time, she looked the Greek full in the face, and smiled up through her eyelashes, soft and seductive. "You gonna call the bulls on lil ol' me?" she teased.
He laughed making her stomach and all her bravado drop. "You seen any bulls since you been here? You been here all damn day, you seen a single copper in all that time?" He leered at her discomfort. "They know better than to come 'round here. You shoulda known better too." He grabbed her, his square hand wrapping around her bicep and digging into the meager flesh there.
"You're doing me a favor. Take me on inside, Dollface," she smirked, "I'd like an audience with your boss." She swaggered in beside him, swallowing the yelp pressing its way up her throat as his thick fingers pressed toward her bone.
The room was dim and the gas lights did little to chase away the gloom. Men lounged and drank everywhere even though Kisser hadn't seen a single person go in or out all day. A haze of thick, sweet cigar and pipe smoke hung over the tables and the vapor of cheap whiskey in the air was so potent that it made her throat tickle and her eyes water. The same brown, sweaty boy smell that she tried to ignore in the bunk room every evening was also there, but it was different, thicker and more bitter. Niko kept his hand firmly on her upper arm as he led her between the clunky tables and chairs and to the middle of the room. She held her head high, looking down her nose at the room full of crooks and thugs.
On a small stage at the back of the room, half a dozen girls in ochre yellow corsets made of silk trimmed with black lace at every edge, jet buttons in the front and black satin ribbons lacing them in the back over scarlet knee length pettiskirts, lush and full with draping and layers danced. Their rouge stained faces and coal rimmed eyes looked dead behind the smiles they plastered on as they pranced in unison, kicking their heels back behind them and then their toes up in front and shaking their precariously contained bosoms at the drooling men at the tables. An old man played rinky dink piano music at one side of the stage for them to dance to, mopping his face with a handkerchief from time to time.
"What have you got there, Niko?" A deep, smooth, almost charming voice cut through the room, stopping all of the other low rumbling voices mid sentence. The place went silent and all eyes went either to the leader, lounging in an arm chair in front of the great stone fireplace or to her and Niko in the center of the room. Her breath caught in her throat as she took him in. He was a beautiful man, with his dark hair and deep skin, but his eyes were a startling, light, golden hazel that had no business glowing out of his dark complexion. He was older, somewhere above thirty five, but there was and undeniable appeal to his face. The air of unapologetic arrogance and class that held him above every other man she ever met intrigued her a bit.
"Found her outside, selling her papers, staring at the place like she was up to something," Niko answered with a smirk in his voice. He leaned down, his breath hot on her ear, "She's a beauty, ain't she Mick?" She squirmed away from the heat, ducking her ear to her shoulder. "Got a mouth on her, though. Demanded to see my boss."
The man in the chair smiled, steepling the thick fingers of his wide hands and giving Niko a nod to bring her closer. "And what would the boss want with a sickly looking, mouthy, little street urchin like her?" The man propped his feet up on a footstool and watched her, his eyebrows raised in amused curiosity. His dark hair was touched with silver at the temples. His clothes were much like Niko's, store bought, clean, but nothing fancy. He barely glanced at her, carrying on like she was a statue or a mannequin in a dress shop and her anger flared. She found herself wanting his attention desperately.
"If you think I'm going to let this ugly troll speak for me, you've got another thing coming," she snapped, finally freeing herself from Niko's grasp. She turned quickly and punched her, first in the gut with her right hand, then in the teeth with her left. The satisfying "oof" he let out and the slice of pain as his teeth cut her knuckles sent a rush of air to parts of her brain that had gone dormant under the blanket or responsibility and worry. The room burst into laughter. She stared Mick in the face, the smirk never wavering on her lips. She was in control of this situation and it was exhilarating. A whole room of adult men was hanging on her every word.
The boss smiled at her, and again it was almost charming, but this eyes gave her pause. Now that he finally was looking at her she wanted him to look away, to let her go. "You caught a live one there, Niko. Now what can I do for you, Miss…"
"My name is Kisser, and I'm the leader of the Brooklyn newsboys." She willed her hands and voice not to shake or stutter. "My partner, Scatter, and I share the responsibilities and make all decisions together. You can't have one of us without the other. I'm the brains, he's the brawn and the charisma, you'll find him a disappointment on his own." It killed her to say that, no matter how true it was or how mad at him she was. He wasn't a disappointment to her, he made sense in her life, but on his own, in this world of fights and threats, debts and under the table deals, he would be nothing but a lackey. "The kids of Brooklyn thrive because of me, and because I have him to back me up."
"I hear a proposal coming on," the man teased, "do please get on with it."
She smiled, sweet as sugar laced with arsenic, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't talk business out in the open nor with people who don't have the manners to introduce themselves."
"Mickelson. Donovan Mickelson." He stood and bowed low to her, it was an act meant to patronize, but that ended up giving her a reputation that saved her life more than once. "If your Majesty will follow me, I'll find someplace more intimate in which to entertain the Queen of Brooklyn herself."
She lifted one arched brow looking sour and displeased as he stood. "A firm handshake goes much farther with me than mocking," she advised holding her hand out. He smiled the same sly smile and took her hand and brought it to his lips. "I see we're not going to work past this issue of my being a girl so easily," she grumbled. "Lead on, Mr. Mickelson. I'd like to get this over with, the whole rest of my life depends on it."
He led her up a set of back stairs to a dark hallway full of doors. By smell alone, she knew what the room he took her to was used for, the lingering whiffs of human musk and cheap perfume spoke volumes as to what the sparse furnishings and bare mattress were regularly used for. He flopped down on the bed, letting the springs bounce him as his fingers laced leisurely behind his head. "Here we are Miss Gatcyk." Her eyes flew wide and he smirked at her surprise. "Yes, I know who you are, I knew who you were the moment Niko dragged you in, otherwise I would have let him drag you up here on his own, and I promise you," his voice dropped to a sinister whisper, "he wouldn't have been so polite. Now, you have your privacy, you have my name and my attention, so what can I do for your highness?"
She sneered, crossing her arms over her chest like the boys did when they wanted to appear bigger and more intimidating, forcing her shoulders to look more square and wide than they did. "I want my life back the way it was before you and your goons entered it. I want those ingrates downstairs to keep their hands off of Scatter and for you to never threaten my younger boys again."
"What's so precious about the life you had two weeks ago? A dime a day, a smelly bunk house, stolen kisses outside a convent and a couple of brats trailing behind you…are they really worth sacrificing yourself?" He grinned, rising from the bed as her eyes blazed and her chest began to heave with anger. He was good and he knew too much about her. She wasn't used to anyone having the boost on her when it came to information. She prided herself on knowing everything that went on in her streets, but she didn't know as much as he did. "That's right, I have 'little birdies' too, and I pay mine so they tend to get what I ask them for."
"Family," she growled, her body rigid and unwavering from the aggressive boy stance. She was afraid that any movement would betray her weaknesses to him since he already knew too much for her taste. "The first one I've ever had, and freedom, Mr. Mickelson, neither of which am I willing to give up without a fight."
"So what do you propose, your Highness? State your terms and we'll see if we can't come to some kind of an agreement." He stood from the bed and leaned casually against the wall as if they were discussing the rules for a stickball game, not hashing out details that could change the course of her whole life. Then again, her life was a just a game to him, and she was just a toy.
"I want the same deal the boys get when you haul them in off the streets against their will," she answered simply not allowing her face to betray her annoyance at his continued teasing and mockery. She wasn't the a queen anymore than Scat was a king and she knew that if the tables were turned and Scat was standing in her shoes now, Mick would not be teasing him in the same way. "I want what I earned as the leader of Brooklyn, the option to join or fight my way out. I won't be pushed to the side because I'm just a girl."
"Given that choice would you join or fight?" He quirked an eyebrow and she cursed herself for the stirring of desire in her gut. Why was he affecting her like that?
She smiled, that poison laced smile, "I think you already know the answer to that."
He nodded, curt and disappointed, but covered it quickly. "So if you win, you want freedom from us for both you and your little boyfriend. But what if you lose? What makes this little deal of yours worth my while?"
"The way I understood the terms for the boys, if I lose, I'm dead," she replied, confused by the question.
"Yes, but you're asking me for a favor and in return, I expect a few concessions."
She shrugged, "I have named my terms, Mr. Mickelson. Name yours."
"If you win, your freedom and Ted Painten's will be granted, my boys will not bother you again, but the rules for your challenge will be different than they are for the boys because you, my dear, are different." She rolled her eyes and he chuckled darkly, running a rough finger down her cheek. "It's not every day that someone barges in here demanding an audience and a gauntlet from me, and I want to make sure everyone involved learns a valuable lesson from this experience." He paused again, checking her face for a reaction, but she remained blank, listening intently. His voice held the same bemused, patronizing lilt that grew to a menacing growl as he continued. "The boys won't be out for blood, just for you to beg them to stop. They will be allowed to use any means necessary to make you plead for mercy. Any cry for help will be deemed as failure on your part. Just like for the boys, they will queue up to challenge you, and if you make it through all of them, your final challenge is to take on me before you see daylight again."
"And if I fail?" Her voice was the low whisper that commanded more attention from the boys than any yell because they listened to her words not just the volume of her voice.
"If you fail my collection of Scatter goes on as planned, both of your prized pets will be collected and roomed for life in Dockside and you, my beauty," he paused, closing his eyes lustfully and all of the erotic energy that she felt radiating off of him, but didn't want to acknowledge was blatant, raw and out in the open. The lust was plain in his incongruent eyes that looked almost right in his face once they were darkened by his dilated pupils. "Oh, I have such plans for you. You will live with me as my personal companion." She grimaced, trying to contain her urge to retch theatrically. He chuckled in an unpleasant way and her heart stopped for a beat. "And if you try to run from me or if that darling mouth of yours gets tiresome, then I will dress you like my other dolls downstairs and you will dance and entertain the men until the light goes out in those fiery eyes of yours. And if you still feel the need to cause trouble, I'm sure I can find a nice opium den or brothel looking for a two bit whore that I can sell you to." He grinned, all the charm drained from his handsome face and with it all the air rushed from her lungs in a single breath as if she'd been sucker punched.
He prowled around her in circles as she considered, a bemused smirk quirking his at his well formed lips. She couldn't ignore the fact that, even as he was threatening to sell her to a brothel, she was attracted to him. But as she watched him leer at her she remembered why she came, why she was in his presence in the first place and Scat's wide wonderful grin, beautiful despite or maybe even because of the gap left by the tooth she knocked out filled her mind's eye. She couldn't even remember what he did that made her angry enough to strike him anymore. The warmth of his soft, tanned skin filled her and the smell of his clothes and his hair sparked that feeling of life in the pit of her stomach. No matter how the man in the prostitute's room intrigued her and beguiled her, he would never make her feel full and right the way Scatter could without ever touching her. If the looks on the faces of those girls on the stage meant anything, his attention would bring nothing but emptiness. Her short life had already seen enough sad, empty days.
Scat said that if he came quietly they could still be together, things wouldn't have to change. If she took Mick's deal and lost, she would have to see Scat every day, but she wouldn't be able to to touch him or kiss him. Her hands would never be allowed to tangle themselves in that unruly mass of of chocolate brown hair. The way Mick looked at her, the way no one downstairs in the tavern dared to speak once he raised his voice a fraction of a decibel told her he wouldn't share her, especially not with the likes of Scatter. "Time to make a choice, Majesty," he said, his teasing but seductive voice pushing her anger to the limits of her control. "Are you going to run home and pretend this little meeting never happened, or are you going to accept my challenge? If you leave now, you"ll probably be home in time for supper. If you stay, we can have you patched up and ready for business by tomorrow night."
She looked up at him, meeting his eyes that held more cruelty than she could ever imagine existing, but something else too, over confidence and that pulled the corner of her lip upward as hope filled her. She was always at her best when the odds were at their worst. "You're so sure I'll lose," she mused. She already knew what she would do, and knew that he did as well.
His dark, groomed eyebrow raised. "Does that mean we have a deal?"
"Scatter goes free and the little boys are left alone?" she asked, repeating the terms before agreeing to them.
"Along with your own freedom," he agreed, but raised a finger, "providing that you win, of course."
"Of course," she agreed.
"If you do not win, you are mine and Scatter is collected as planned, you will be taken immediately to my home and your boys, your brothers, will be taken elsewhere to be trained. Painten will get here just in time to see you make your debut on the stage if you choose not to cooperate." His grin was cruel, but still beautiful. His teeth straight and white, his eyes crinkling debonairly at the corners.
Her palms were drenched as she rubbed them together, going over the terms again and again in her head. Finally, she wiped her right hand off on her skirt and held it out to him, "Deal."
He shook her hand firmly, the shake he refused to give her downstairs in front of the men, and strode out of the room without another word to her. She took a deep, shuddering breath before trailing behind him back down to the hushed but still busy room below. The piano man was no where to be seen and the girls were dispersed throughout the crowd as the two reached the bottom step. "Boys!" he greeted loudly, drawing their attention back to him. "We have ourselves an unexpected challenger! Lock the doors." Hands ensnared her arms and steered her to a cellar while her head swam with panic and remorse. At that moment she knew that she would never again be the girl that she was when she left the lodging house only a few hours ago, pissed as hell at Scatter. Those days were over, and darker days were ahead.