"Jacky-boy!" A thin, lanky boy of 16 exclaimed as he saw the older boy enter the Brooklyn warehouse with his friends. "Looks like you'se finally decided to show."
"Conlon, long time no see." Jack responded with a friendly slap on the back. Spot in return nodded his head and smirked up to his long time friend. He let his sharp hazel eyes scan the crowd of newsboys and girls. Several were playing the usual game of poker, some were trying their best on the dance floor, and a few were just lounging, smoking and conversing about their lives. A few younger boys were busy playing old and discarded instruments; plucking fiddles and beating on drums. The sound was a melodious Celtic and classical mix which never ended. A few brave souls were busy prancing around the dance floor, kicking their legs around and every now and then shouting to each other. It was quite a site to see.
"Looks like a nice turn up." Spot remarked, pulling his gold tipped cane out of his belt loop. He wouldn't be caught without his favorite heirloom.
Jack grinned and nodded his head in response. He was leaning against a column in the Brooklyn newsboys' lodging house; the scene of the party. There was a lot of noise coming in from outside on the docks, as well.
"Jack!" A voice called from the dance floor. Davey, the curly, brown haired boy and best friend was waving his hands madly in his direction, his boyish grin flashing in a wild manner. "Come over here!"
Jack laughed, slapping Spot on his back in a farewell before carefully making his way through the crowd towards Davey. He tried modestly not to notice that everyone made a way for him as he came towards them. "Whatcha want, Mouth?" He asked once he reached him. Davey rolled his eyes at the mention of his nickname. He still hadn't warmed up to the term.
"What are you doing in the corner all by yourself, Cowboy?" Davey asked, winking slightly. "Wouldn't you rather dance with a pretty girl?"
"If I see one, I'll letcha know." Jack retorted, reaching nonchalantly in his pocket for a cigarette.
"Well," Davey replied with a slick grin. "Don't look now, but..." He whirled Jack around in the opposite direction, his face a mask of surprise with his cigarette hanging carelessly from his moist lips. In the back of the warehouse Jack saw a vision of a dame.
"We came late!" Davey shouted in his ear in order to be heard over the series of groans and hoots of triumph that arose from the poker table. "She's been waiting for you."
Jack retrieved his unlit cigarette from his mouth and placed it back in his pocket. He lightly squeezed Davey's shoulder in thanks. His eyes were glued on his girl who was looking awkwardly around the space. With a confident deep breath, he made his way towards her. When he was a few feet in front of her, she raised her eyes to look at him, a sudden flush in her cheeks.
"Hi," He said with a slight wave.
"Hi," She replied, running a hand over her hair. "Do you, umn, wanna dance?"
"Ain't I supposed to be the one to ask that?" Jack asked with a raised eyebrow, laughing slightly. Before she could respond, he grasped her around her waist and led her onto a spare space in the center of the warehouse. She took his hands and began to sort of jig, her eyes watching his carefully. They were spinning, spinning around and many eyes were on them. They laughed as other couples followed their lead, not caring if they fell down or if they tripped over each other's feet.
~*
The night drew on slowly, people coming and going as the stars tried in vain to peek out from the smog like sky. Sarah had gone with a promise of coming back later, so Jack now took refuge along with a couple of his friends at the poker table, cigarette butts littering the lopsided table on which they played on.
"I meet your nickel, and I raise you a dime." Racetrack Higgins proclaimed as he tossed his money on the slight pile. There were slight "oohs" and "ahhs" as the onlookers of the table glanced in Jack's direction. Race, the short and highly driven gambler grinned in an imp like manner at Jack, waiting for a response.
Jack frowned at his cards, wanting to draw out the suspense. He loved to watch Race sweat. Just as he was about to reply, a hand fell on his shoulder.
"Hey, um, Jacky-boy," Spot said, tipping his cap up off of his eyes with the brass top of his cane. "I need ta have some woids with you."
Jack raised his eyebrows at his cards that he held closely to his body as he regarded Spot. "Can't dis wait, Spot? I'm in da middle of a game."
"Somethin' like dis can't wait." Spot replied in a hushed tone. He leaned forward, placing one hand on the poker table as he brushed his tightly pursed lips against Jack's ear. "Now."
With a quick glance back at the serious expression on the smaller boy's face, Jack slapped his cards down on the table with a quick cut motion to his throat with his hand. He then stood up and followed Spot to the back of the warehouse where no one had taken station.
"What's dis all about, Spot?" Jack asked as he pulled a smoke out of his pants pocket. He offered one to Spot, but the other just smirked lightly as he fit his cane back into his pants loop.
"It's about an unexpected visitor we have in our midst, Jacky-boy." Spot said. "I think you bettah leave, 'fore things get ugly."
Jack's eyebrows flew up at the leader tone that Spot was pulling on him. Usually, the two boys could kid with such "important" manners that they conducted. Yet, this was something that scarcely happened. "Who?" He asked, his tone dropping slightly.
With a slight nod to the door of the warehouse, Spot replied: "Jab."
The hair on the back of Jack's head bristled as he turned towards the direction in which Spot nodded towards. "Jab?" He tried to seek the other out, and then he saw him. A tall and lanky older boy with long black hair stood in the doorway, staring straight at him. Jack frowned and scratched his nose slightly. "Damn it," he swore. "How'd he get here?"
"It's a free country, Jack. Dat boys got da right to walk into Brooklyn as much as you do." Came the response.
"Yeah, but I didn't kill nobody." Jack whispered to himself. Jab was well known to the upper east side as the one who wasn't afraid of the law. Newsies broke laws because they had no other choice. Jab and his gang broke laws because they felt like it; because they felt they had the right. They stole. They murdered. They were beasts.
Spot nodded slightly and clapped his hand lightly on the back of Jack's back. "You should go 'fore he finds dat you'se here."
"I'se not running from anyone." Jack said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Dat's what cowards do, and I ain't a coward."
"Jack, stop being a dumb ass." Spot replied tiredly. Jack noted that the younger boy's lips were twitching slightly and his hands were shaking. A cold sweat covered his brow, and his forehead was knit with worry. He was scared.
It was not the first time that he had seen Spot, the fearless Conlon, frightened. Six months ago Jab had reaped havoc upon Harlem. His goons set up secretly and slowly made their way into the community, being excepted. Jab himself had his eye on the quiet, reserved girl named Dot. A lovely girl with light brown hair and illuminating blue eyes, who Spot had known forever. She was a friend of the newsies, and a frequent visitor in Brooklyn. Known by everyone (even by Jab) Spot was quite taken with this girl. Secretly in love with her, in fact. Jack remembered the night when Spot stormed into the lodging house in Manhattan, demanding that all of the older boys follow him to Harlem in order to kill Jab. Earlier that night Jab had captured Dot and had come close to killing the young woman. She was taken to the woman's shelter, broken and delirious. Spot never left her bedside. While Spot spent many a restless night with Dot, Jack and some of the toughest men from all over the city ran Jab and his gang away from the area. They made it quite evident that he wasn't welcome. This was the first time that Jab had reappeared since then.
"Spot?" Jack asked softly, noting the faraway look in his friend's eyes.
"Sorry, just... just gettin' some flashbacks, dat's all." Spot murmured, running a hand through his light brown hair. The image of Dot's sad, feverish blue eyes remained imprinted on his memory. She was fine now, but a fear for Jab's return never left him.
Jack nodded and watched as Spot mustered his strength. The smaller boy cleared his throat and tossed his head slightly.
"Please, Jack." Spot pleaded, his eyes averted as to not look directly at Jack. He didn't want to revert back to the past, for fear of the pain. "Leave here. I don't want... I don't want ta come close to losing anyone I love, again." With that, he walked stiffly to the back of the lodging house where the door to the bunks where hidden, disappearing from sight.
Jack sighed deeply, exhaling the pent up fear he was holding for Spot's sake. He looked in the direction of where Jab had last been, seeing the empty space. He then scanned the sparsely populated warehouse, not seeing the raven haired boy.
"Hey! Cowboy!" Jack heard Race shout from the poker table. "You ever coming back?! I ain't done cleaning you out, yet!"
Jack shook his head and turned away from the table. He knew Spot had a point. Jab had it in for both of them. He would have his revenge because it was his character. Whatever he wanted, he would get no matter the price. With his mind made up, Jack began to walk towards the back door of the lodging house, trying to be as conspicuous as possible.
"Hey, where're you going, Jack?" A young voice asked from behind him. Les was close on his heels, grinning up at him with his cowboy hat slipping off his head to one side. Jack reached out and steadied the hat, smiling down at him.
"Looks like I'se got to make a surprise getaway, little man." He said. Les' eyes opened in shock as he began to protest. "Hey, hey, now." Jack cut in before Les could say anything to any effect. "We'se got a little bit of a problem. Understand? No questions?"
Les shoved his dirty hands into his pockets and shrugged in disappointment. Suddenly his eyes lit up with excitement. "Can I got witcha? Huh, Jack, can I? Davey wouldn't care!"
Jack grinned down at him and slapped Les on the back lightly. "Sure, Les. Go get yer stuff." With the sparkle back in his eye, Les ran as fast as his little legs could take him to where his jacket and wooden sword were situated. Jack could feel a knawing at the back of his mind. He knew that there was something wrong, something not exactly right with him. As Les ran wildly back to him, running into people and knocking some younger boys down, Jack couldn't help but laugh. Surely nothing was the matter. He would take the back alleys back to Manhattan, where Les and him would sleep soundly until the noisy return of the other newsboys woke them up. Jack led the younger boy to the back door, opening it and letting the cool night air into their lungs. Les' dark brown eyes shone up into his, and a moment of pure happiness and peace passed between them. Then they stepped outside, not knowing what the future held for them.
"Conlon, long time no see." Jack responded with a friendly slap on the back. Spot in return nodded his head and smirked up to his long time friend. He let his sharp hazel eyes scan the crowd of newsboys and girls. Several were playing the usual game of poker, some were trying their best on the dance floor, and a few were just lounging, smoking and conversing about their lives. A few younger boys were busy playing old and discarded instruments; plucking fiddles and beating on drums. The sound was a melodious Celtic and classical mix which never ended. A few brave souls were busy prancing around the dance floor, kicking their legs around and every now and then shouting to each other. It was quite a site to see.
"Looks like a nice turn up." Spot remarked, pulling his gold tipped cane out of his belt loop. He wouldn't be caught without his favorite heirloom.
Jack grinned and nodded his head in response. He was leaning against a column in the Brooklyn newsboys' lodging house; the scene of the party. There was a lot of noise coming in from outside on the docks, as well.
"Jack!" A voice called from the dance floor. Davey, the curly, brown haired boy and best friend was waving his hands madly in his direction, his boyish grin flashing in a wild manner. "Come over here!"
Jack laughed, slapping Spot on his back in a farewell before carefully making his way through the crowd towards Davey. He tried modestly not to notice that everyone made a way for him as he came towards them. "Whatcha want, Mouth?" He asked once he reached him. Davey rolled his eyes at the mention of his nickname. He still hadn't warmed up to the term.
"What are you doing in the corner all by yourself, Cowboy?" Davey asked, winking slightly. "Wouldn't you rather dance with a pretty girl?"
"If I see one, I'll letcha know." Jack retorted, reaching nonchalantly in his pocket for a cigarette.
"Well," Davey replied with a slick grin. "Don't look now, but..." He whirled Jack around in the opposite direction, his face a mask of surprise with his cigarette hanging carelessly from his moist lips. In the back of the warehouse Jack saw a vision of a dame.
"We came late!" Davey shouted in his ear in order to be heard over the series of groans and hoots of triumph that arose from the poker table. "She's been waiting for you."
Jack retrieved his unlit cigarette from his mouth and placed it back in his pocket. He lightly squeezed Davey's shoulder in thanks. His eyes were glued on his girl who was looking awkwardly around the space. With a confident deep breath, he made his way towards her. When he was a few feet in front of her, she raised her eyes to look at him, a sudden flush in her cheeks.
"Hi," He said with a slight wave.
"Hi," She replied, running a hand over her hair. "Do you, umn, wanna dance?"
"Ain't I supposed to be the one to ask that?" Jack asked with a raised eyebrow, laughing slightly. Before she could respond, he grasped her around her waist and led her onto a spare space in the center of the warehouse. She took his hands and began to sort of jig, her eyes watching his carefully. They were spinning, spinning around and many eyes were on them. They laughed as other couples followed their lead, not caring if they fell down or if they tripped over each other's feet.
~*
The night drew on slowly, people coming and going as the stars tried in vain to peek out from the smog like sky. Sarah had gone with a promise of coming back later, so Jack now took refuge along with a couple of his friends at the poker table, cigarette butts littering the lopsided table on which they played on.
"I meet your nickel, and I raise you a dime." Racetrack Higgins proclaimed as he tossed his money on the slight pile. There were slight "oohs" and "ahhs" as the onlookers of the table glanced in Jack's direction. Race, the short and highly driven gambler grinned in an imp like manner at Jack, waiting for a response.
Jack frowned at his cards, wanting to draw out the suspense. He loved to watch Race sweat. Just as he was about to reply, a hand fell on his shoulder.
"Hey, um, Jacky-boy," Spot said, tipping his cap up off of his eyes with the brass top of his cane. "I need ta have some woids with you."
Jack raised his eyebrows at his cards that he held closely to his body as he regarded Spot. "Can't dis wait, Spot? I'm in da middle of a game."
"Somethin' like dis can't wait." Spot replied in a hushed tone. He leaned forward, placing one hand on the poker table as he brushed his tightly pursed lips against Jack's ear. "Now."
With a quick glance back at the serious expression on the smaller boy's face, Jack slapped his cards down on the table with a quick cut motion to his throat with his hand. He then stood up and followed Spot to the back of the warehouse where no one had taken station.
"What's dis all about, Spot?" Jack asked as he pulled a smoke out of his pants pocket. He offered one to Spot, but the other just smirked lightly as he fit his cane back into his pants loop.
"It's about an unexpected visitor we have in our midst, Jacky-boy." Spot said. "I think you bettah leave, 'fore things get ugly."
Jack's eyebrows flew up at the leader tone that Spot was pulling on him. Usually, the two boys could kid with such "important" manners that they conducted. Yet, this was something that scarcely happened. "Who?" He asked, his tone dropping slightly.
With a slight nod to the door of the warehouse, Spot replied: "Jab."
The hair on the back of Jack's head bristled as he turned towards the direction in which Spot nodded towards. "Jab?" He tried to seek the other out, and then he saw him. A tall and lanky older boy with long black hair stood in the doorway, staring straight at him. Jack frowned and scratched his nose slightly. "Damn it," he swore. "How'd he get here?"
"It's a free country, Jack. Dat boys got da right to walk into Brooklyn as much as you do." Came the response.
"Yeah, but I didn't kill nobody." Jack whispered to himself. Jab was well known to the upper east side as the one who wasn't afraid of the law. Newsies broke laws because they had no other choice. Jab and his gang broke laws because they felt like it; because they felt they had the right. They stole. They murdered. They were beasts.
Spot nodded slightly and clapped his hand lightly on the back of Jack's back. "You should go 'fore he finds dat you'se here."
"I'se not running from anyone." Jack said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Dat's what cowards do, and I ain't a coward."
"Jack, stop being a dumb ass." Spot replied tiredly. Jack noted that the younger boy's lips were twitching slightly and his hands were shaking. A cold sweat covered his brow, and his forehead was knit with worry. He was scared.
It was not the first time that he had seen Spot, the fearless Conlon, frightened. Six months ago Jab had reaped havoc upon Harlem. His goons set up secretly and slowly made their way into the community, being excepted. Jab himself had his eye on the quiet, reserved girl named Dot. A lovely girl with light brown hair and illuminating blue eyes, who Spot had known forever. She was a friend of the newsies, and a frequent visitor in Brooklyn. Known by everyone (even by Jab) Spot was quite taken with this girl. Secretly in love with her, in fact. Jack remembered the night when Spot stormed into the lodging house in Manhattan, demanding that all of the older boys follow him to Harlem in order to kill Jab. Earlier that night Jab had captured Dot and had come close to killing the young woman. She was taken to the woman's shelter, broken and delirious. Spot never left her bedside. While Spot spent many a restless night with Dot, Jack and some of the toughest men from all over the city ran Jab and his gang away from the area. They made it quite evident that he wasn't welcome. This was the first time that Jab had reappeared since then.
"Spot?" Jack asked softly, noting the faraway look in his friend's eyes.
"Sorry, just... just gettin' some flashbacks, dat's all." Spot murmured, running a hand through his light brown hair. The image of Dot's sad, feverish blue eyes remained imprinted on his memory. She was fine now, but a fear for Jab's return never left him.
Jack nodded and watched as Spot mustered his strength. The smaller boy cleared his throat and tossed his head slightly.
"Please, Jack." Spot pleaded, his eyes averted as to not look directly at Jack. He didn't want to revert back to the past, for fear of the pain. "Leave here. I don't want... I don't want ta come close to losing anyone I love, again." With that, he walked stiffly to the back of the lodging house where the door to the bunks where hidden, disappearing from sight.
Jack sighed deeply, exhaling the pent up fear he was holding for Spot's sake. He looked in the direction of where Jab had last been, seeing the empty space. He then scanned the sparsely populated warehouse, not seeing the raven haired boy.
"Hey! Cowboy!" Jack heard Race shout from the poker table. "You ever coming back?! I ain't done cleaning you out, yet!"
Jack shook his head and turned away from the table. He knew Spot had a point. Jab had it in for both of them. He would have his revenge because it was his character. Whatever he wanted, he would get no matter the price. With his mind made up, Jack began to walk towards the back door of the lodging house, trying to be as conspicuous as possible.
"Hey, where're you going, Jack?" A young voice asked from behind him. Les was close on his heels, grinning up at him with his cowboy hat slipping off his head to one side. Jack reached out and steadied the hat, smiling down at him.
"Looks like I'se got to make a surprise getaway, little man." He said. Les' eyes opened in shock as he began to protest. "Hey, hey, now." Jack cut in before Les could say anything to any effect. "We'se got a little bit of a problem. Understand? No questions?"
Les shoved his dirty hands into his pockets and shrugged in disappointment. Suddenly his eyes lit up with excitement. "Can I got witcha? Huh, Jack, can I? Davey wouldn't care!"
Jack grinned down at him and slapped Les on the back lightly. "Sure, Les. Go get yer stuff." With the sparkle back in his eye, Les ran as fast as his little legs could take him to where his jacket and wooden sword were situated. Jack could feel a knawing at the back of his mind. He knew that there was something wrong, something not exactly right with him. As Les ran wildly back to him, running into people and knocking some younger boys down, Jack couldn't help but laugh. Surely nothing was the matter. He would take the back alleys back to Manhattan, where Les and him would sleep soundly until the noisy return of the other newsboys woke them up. Jack led the younger boy to the back door, opening it and letting the cool night air into their lungs. Les' dark brown eyes shone up into his, and a moment of pure happiness and peace passed between them. Then they stepped outside, not knowing what the future held for them.