1 Warning! Slight nudity in this chapter! Rated R for a reason! You've been
warned!
2
Author's Note: I still don't own any of the original newsies, as much as I'd like to, but I do own Singah, Fidget, Trolley, and Bacon- and need I remind you of the dire consequences of messing with MY Spot? He's mine, you hear me? MINE!
3 Chapter Eight
Jack was doing the hardest thing he had ever done in his life that night- he was admitting he was wrong. He had decided that, after sleepless nights and aimless days, he had to get Singah's forgiveness. He was still mad as hell at Spot for disobeying him, but Singah had done nothing wrong. Spot had been right about one thing- it wasn't Singah's fault. So he was on his way to Brooklyn.
"Blink, I can't do dis no more. I'se gotta get her back. I was wrong, and I'se still loves her like a sistah. I'se is goin' ta Brooklyn. You comin'?"
"I ain't done nottin' wrong. I ain't beggin' dat bitch ta fergive me for sumting I didn' do."
"Don' call me sistah a bitch, you one-eyed bastard!"
"I'se gonna call that little whore anyting I damn well wanna. Nobody dumps me like dat!"
"You take dat back or I'll…"
"Or you'll what, Jack? You ain't worth shit as a leader if dis is how you behaves ovah a goil."
"Look around, Blink! Dere ain't no body to be da leader of! Ain't you see dat?"
"I see what you done, Jack, you and dat bitch." With a feral shout, lunged at Blink, his fists pistoning into his stomach. Blink retaliated by grabbing Jack's shirt and hurling them both bodily into the nearest bunk, then managed to connect his fist with the side of Jack's face. Yelling in pain and anger, Jack butted his head into Blink's stomach, knocking him back into the bunk. Moaning, Blink raised his hands in a sign of defeat. Ignoring them, Jack ensured with a well-placed kick that he wouldn't be hampered by Blink's pigheadedness. Hearing him emit a muffled groan, Jack straightend and dusted off his clothes, and left.
***
An hour later, Jack was kicked out of a bar near the newsies Lodging House. He had gotten cold feet, and was currently trying to see how drunk he could get. He stumbled into the street, and down into the next bar, acting as sober as possible. Three hours and 4 bars later, Jack had made his way into Brooklyn. Drunk as a sailor, he crossed Brooklyn Bridge. The walk that normally would have taken 15 minutes had taken him four hours. He was bruised from his fight with Blink and angry with himself and the world.
Jack was near collapse from alcohol when he finally reached the Brooklyn Lodging House. Hearing laughter and seeing lights still on, he decided through his drunken stupor that he would be welcome, and that Spot and Singah would welcome him with open arms. Staggering up the stairs and into the building, he ran into Racetrack.
"Jack…" Race started. Noticing how Jack was acting, he asked, "Jack, you'se ok? You ain't lookin' to good."
"Yeah," Jack muttered thickly. "I wanna see Spot and Singah. Where are dey?"
"Umm, dey is upstairs in dere room. But you'se don' wanna go in dere…" The last half was in vain, though, as Jack had already climbed the stairs as fast as he could. "…Dey's busy."
Upstairs, the newsies in the hall were growing quiet as they saw Jack staggering through. He was obviously drunk, but no one wanted to mess with the Cowboy, no matter how inebriated he was. When it was realized that he was trying to get to Spot and Singah's little room, attempts were made to waylay him, but he shrugged them off. Reaching the door, Jack was blocked by Fidget, who tried to hold him off.
"Jack, you really don' wanna go in dere right now- can't it wait?"
"No, Fidg…" Jack pushed her aside. "I'se gotta talk ta dem right away!" He turned the nob on the door and threw it open. All the newsies in the hall ducked out of sight of the door. Spot and Singah sat up with a start- they had been asleep after their latest bout of lovemaking. Clutching the sheet to her chest, Singah shrieked.
"Jack!" Flushing, she dove beneath the sheets again, hiding her face.
"Get out! I'se gonna murder who evah let you'se in here!" Spot was furious- the last person he wanted to see had just walked in on him and his girl. Reaching for his pants and cane, Spot was yelling at the top of his lungs. "Out, you'se hear me! Get out!" Finding his clothes, he pulled them on, and brandishing his cane like a sword, he forced Jack out of the room and slammed the door. Shocked, Jack pulled back. He was taken aback that Spot was still with Singah after more than 2 days. He realized that maybe a mistake, that Spot really did love her. However, that thought was drowned out by the screaming voice in his head saying –Soak him, da bastard! He's usin' yer sistah!-
While Jack's alcohol-saturated brain ponderously turned, on the other side of the door, Singah was getting ready to face Jack. Spot was had finished dressing, pacing and fuming, suddenly feeling the need for a fight. Singah turned to him. She didn't want a big fight- she wanted it to all be over, so she could go see her friends in their house.
"Spot, don' hurt him too bad- he may be a asshole, but he's like me bruddah."
"I promise, Singah- but if he tries to hurt you or any a da newsies, he's in fer it."
"Fair enough," she said, and kissed him. She was trying so hard not to cry- she hadn't wanted Jack to see them together, and it was going to make it that much harder to reconcile. They opened the door to their little room, and walked out. Spot went first, just in case Jack was there and tried anything. He was sitting on the floor across the hall, head between his knees.
"Jack?" Singah asked softly. "You'se alright?" He looked up at her, tousled and tear-stained. She looked so sad, yet happier than he had ever seen her.
"Yeah. Look, I'se sorry fer what I said. I don' want you guys to be mad at me no more. Come back?"
"Jack, I can't. I live here now. But the others will go back if you'se is sorry. You can have da newsies, Jack, but I lives here now."
"No! You'se is comin' wid me. I ain't lettin' you stay here wid dat son-of-a-bitch!"
"Jacky-boy, you heard her. Now if you'se ain't gonna let her go, get lost. We don' need yous no more!" Spot's temper was getting the better of him. He shut up at Singah's nudge.
"Look, Jack, I'se sorry, but I'se stayin' here." She turned from him and walked slowly back to the room she shared with her lover. Looking back, she said, "Jack, I fergives you." With that, she stepped out of sight.
"Jacky-boy, if dis makes you happy, you is one sick fuck. Leave before I has me boys make you go." Spot turned and followed Singah into their room. She was going to be devastated.
***
Blink was in massive amounts of pain. He hadn't been hurt ths badly since he lost his eye when he was seven- he could still feel the piece of coal going in at the mines. That didn't hurt nearly as bad as he felt now- Singah had left him for Spot Conlon. The thought kept running through his head, -gotta get her back-gotta get Conlon.- Blink decided it was time to use some of his contacts in Harlem. He was gonna get them good for what they did to him. He was gonna make them pay.
Blink had first met the leader of Harlem, Bacon, when he was running away from the coal mines of Pennsylvania, right after he lost his eye. They became friends on the train- sitting in the cold baggage car, hiding from the porters. When they reached New York, Bacon left for Harlem to meet his family, and Blink went to Manhattan to meet his fate. The two kept in contact, and now it was time to use those. Bacon was gonna help him tear down the almighty Spot Conlon- and get him back Singah.
***
The Manhattan newsies gathered around their fallen leader. He was crying- they had never seen him cry before- not even when Sarah had left him for someone more "stable." Maybe it was the drink- or maybe he was broken. They looked around at each other, unsure of what to do. Racetrack took charge, ordering two of the biggest newsies to help him. Gently, they picked Jack up and carefully started the long walk back to the Manhattan Lodging House. The second newsie strike, the one that would never go down in the history books, was over. They were going home. A couple of the newsies stopped at the door of the lover's room, as if unsure about saying good bye, but continued on with the flow of children.
2
Author's Note: I still don't own any of the original newsies, as much as I'd like to, but I do own Singah, Fidget, Trolley, and Bacon- and need I remind you of the dire consequences of messing with MY Spot? He's mine, you hear me? MINE!
3 Chapter Eight
Jack was doing the hardest thing he had ever done in his life that night- he was admitting he was wrong. He had decided that, after sleepless nights and aimless days, he had to get Singah's forgiveness. He was still mad as hell at Spot for disobeying him, but Singah had done nothing wrong. Spot had been right about one thing- it wasn't Singah's fault. So he was on his way to Brooklyn.
"Blink, I can't do dis no more. I'se gotta get her back. I was wrong, and I'se still loves her like a sistah. I'se is goin' ta Brooklyn. You comin'?"
"I ain't done nottin' wrong. I ain't beggin' dat bitch ta fergive me for sumting I didn' do."
"Don' call me sistah a bitch, you one-eyed bastard!"
"I'se gonna call that little whore anyting I damn well wanna. Nobody dumps me like dat!"
"You take dat back or I'll…"
"Or you'll what, Jack? You ain't worth shit as a leader if dis is how you behaves ovah a goil."
"Look around, Blink! Dere ain't no body to be da leader of! Ain't you see dat?"
"I see what you done, Jack, you and dat bitch." With a feral shout, lunged at Blink, his fists pistoning into his stomach. Blink retaliated by grabbing Jack's shirt and hurling them both bodily into the nearest bunk, then managed to connect his fist with the side of Jack's face. Yelling in pain and anger, Jack butted his head into Blink's stomach, knocking him back into the bunk. Moaning, Blink raised his hands in a sign of defeat. Ignoring them, Jack ensured with a well-placed kick that he wouldn't be hampered by Blink's pigheadedness. Hearing him emit a muffled groan, Jack straightend and dusted off his clothes, and left.
***
An hour later, Jack was kicked out of a bar near the newsies Lodging House. He had gotten cold feet, and was currently trying to see how drunk he could get. He stumbled into the street, and down into the next bar, acting as sober as possible. Three hours and 4 bars later, Jack had made his way into Brooklyn. Drunk as a sailor, he crossed Brooklyn Bridge. The walk that normally would have taken 15 minutes had taken him four hours. He was bruised from his fight with Blink and angry with himself and the world.
Jack was near collapse from alcohol when he finally reached the Brooklyn Lodging House. Hearing laughter and seeing lights still on, he decided through his drunken stupor that he would be welcome, and that Spot and Singah would welcome him with open arms. Staggering up the stairs and into the building, he ran into Racetrack.
"Jack…" Race started. Noticing how Jack was acting, he asked, "Jack, you'se ok? You ain't lookin' to good."
"Yeah," Jack muttered thickly. "I wanna see Spot and Singah. Where are dey?"
"Umm, dey is upstairs in dere room. But you'se don' wanna go in dere…" The last half was in vain, though, as Jack had already climbed the stairs as fast as he could. "…Dey's busy."
Upstairs, the newsies in the hall were growing quiet as they saw Jack staggering through. He was obviously drunk, but no one wanted to mess with the Cowboy, no matter how inebriated he was. When it was realized that he was trying to get to Spot and Singah's little room, attempts were made to waylay him, but he shrugged them off. Reaching the door, Jack was blocked by Fidget, who tried to hold him off.
"Jack, you really don' wanna go in dere right now- can't it wait?"
"No, Fidg…" Jack pushed her aside. "I'se gotta talk ta dem right away!" He turned the nob on the door and threw it open. All the newsies in the hall ducked out of sight of the door. Spot and Singah sat up with a start- they had been asleep after their latest bout of lovemaking. Clutching the sheet to her chest, Singah shrieked.
"Jack!" Flushing, she dove beneath the sheets again, hiding her face.
"Get out! I'se gonna murder who evah let you'se in here!" Spot was furious- the last person he wanted to see had just walked in on him and his girl. Reaching for his pants and cane, Spot was yelling at the top of his lungs. "Out, you'se hear me! Get out!" Finding his clothes, he pulled them on, and brandishing his cane like a sword, he forced Jack out of the room and slammed the door. Shocked, Jack pulled back. He was taken aback that Spot was still with Singah after more than 2 days. He realized that maybe a mistake, that Spot really did love her. However, that thought was drowned out by the screaming voice in his head saying –Soak him, da bastard! He's usin' yer sistah!-
While Jack's alcohol-saturated brain ponderously turned, on the other side of the door, Singah was getting ready to face Jack. Spot was had finished dressing, pacing and fuming, suddenly feeling the need for a fight. Singah turned to him. She didn't want a big fight- she wanted it to all be over, so she could go see her friends in their house.
"Spot, don' hurt him too bad- he may be a asshole, but he's like me bruddah."
"I promise, Singah- but if he tries to hurt you or any a da newsies, he's in fer it."
"Fair enough," she said, and kissed him. She was trying so hard not to cry- she hadn't wanted Jack to see them together, and it was going to make it that much harder to reconcile. They opened the door to their little room, and walked out. Spot went first, just in case Jack was there and tried anything. He was sitting on the floor across the hall, head between his knees.
"Jack?" Singah asked softly. "You'se alright?" He looked up at her, tousled and tear-stained. She looked so sad, yet happier than he had ever seen her.
"Yeah. Look, I'se sorry fer what I said. I don' want you guys to be mad at me no more. Come back?"
"Jack, I can't. I live here now. But the others will go back if you'se is sorry. You can have da newsies, Jack, but I lives here now."
"No! You'se is comin' wid me. I ain't lettin' you stay here wid dat son-of-a-bitch!"
"Jacky-boy, you heard her. Now if you'se ain't gonna let her go, get lost. We don' need yous no more!" Spot's temper was getting the better of him. He shut up at Singah's nudge.
"Look, Jack, I'se sorry, but I'se stayin' here." She turned from him and walked slowly back to the room she shared with her lover. Looking back, she said, "Jack, I fergives you." With that, she stepped out of sight.
"Jacky-boy, if dis makes you happy, you is one sick fuck. Leave before I has me boys make you go." Spot turned and followed Singah into their room. She was going to be devastated.
***
Blink was in massive amounts of pain. He hadn't been hurt ths badly since he lost his eye when he was seven- he could still feel the piece of coal going in at the mines. That didn't hurt nearly as bad as he felt now- Singah had left him for Spot Conlon. The thought kept running through his head, -gotta get her back-gotta get Conlon.- Blink decided it was time to use some of his contacts in Harlem. He was gonna get them good for what they did to him. He was gonna make them pay.
Blink had first met the leader of Harlem, Bacon, when he was running away from the coal mines of Pennsylvania, right after he lost his eye. They became friends on the train- sitting in the cold baggage car, hiding from the porters. When they reached New York, Bacon left for Harlem to meet his family, and Blink went to Manhattan to meet his fate. The two kept in contact, and now it was time to use those. Bacon was gonna help him tear down the almighty Spot Conlon- and get him back Singah.
***
The Manhattan newsies gathered around their fallen leader. He was crying- they had never seen him cry before- not even when Sarah had left him for someone more "stable." Maybe it was the drink- or maybe he was broken. They looked around at each other, unsure of what to do. Racetrack took charge, ordering two of the biggest newsies to help him. Gently, they picked Jack up and carefully started the long walk back to the Manhattan Lodging House. The second newsie strike, the one that would never go down in the history books, was over. They were going home. A couple of the newsies stopped at the door of the lover's room, as if unsure about saying good bye, but continued on with the flow of children.