Timmy Michelson sat at the round table in the corner of the pub with five of his closest friends. The skinny waitress took their orders and came back within minutes to distribute their drinks. He felt somewhat superior being a part of this family, they certainly got better service than everyone else. To his right, she handed Sergio his bourbon on the rocks, then Georgie his vodka cocktail, Mutsy and Danny-boy their brews, and Spot his gin and tonic. As she set Timmy's quart of beer in front of him, he leaned over and smacked Sergio's face for grabbing the waitress' ass.
"I `pologize for my friend here, his mother never taught him how to treat a lady." Timmy winked at her and stuffed a dollar into her hand. "Notice the poor boy is still single," he said as he grabbed Georgie by the wrist and forced up his ringless hand. Georgie was the token pretty boy in the group, dark hair, dark eyes, and dark complexion. He was also the local lady-killer. The waitress just smiled, took the money, and retreated.
Mutsy grunted, which was his way of announcing that he planned on speaking. "So, we's gonna take out that butcher shop tonight if'n he don't pay aw fee?" Timmy smiled half-heartedly, he knew Mutsy was just iching to smack someone around. He had the body of a gorilla, and some would say the brain as well.
"You'se know," Sergio put in, "that we `ave been `dere five times fer it. Dis `ere IS our territory. If'n `e don't like it, `e can move on er get soaked." Sergio was the boss' son. The big joke was why he had a Greek name and he belonged to the most feared and respected Irish family in New York. The boys mostly faked Greek accents when they saw him, and his face would go as red as his hair, and he would attack them every time. His Irish temper never failed, and the boys never grew tired of the joke. Danny-boy was his little brother, and they pretty much resembled each other physically, but Danny's personality was much quieter. He was a listener. Timmy suspected that Danny-boy was planning on taking over the family some day.
Spot was the other quiet one. He was new to the group, but he came with raving reviews about his tomfoolery before he met up with the Mannigan family. Apparently, he was the leader of a tight-knit group of child thieves in Brooklyn, or so the legend went. He never said whether or not it was true. He just smiled his wicked smile, and no one questioned him further. But when he did speak, people jumped, and that's what got him into the band. Spot changed the subject. "Does any a you'se got money on this next match? I'se got anoda tip.." He smiled that wicked grin again. Immediately all five of the others started shouting and calling bids about the next boxing match.
The shouting stopped just as abruptly as it had started. In fact, the whole bar went silent when the tall redhead stepped out of the brilliant light outside and materialized inside the tavern where they could see her. Her done-up hair and lace blouse set her apart from the other women in the bar.
"Looks like somebody's wife is out to get `im," Timmy mused.
"Too bad it's not mine," said Sergio playing with the gold claudah on his ring finger.
The lady looked around. "Stop ya starin'! It ain't like ya's never seen a woman before!" She yelled. "Bring me sumpthin strong," she ordered the bartender and plopped down in a flimsy wooden chair. Once they heard her accent, and saw her fiery temper, they realized her not as a threat, but one of them, and everyone went back to conversation.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sadie slouched over her - whatever it was they gave her to drink--and fumed. Where would she go now? Could she find enough money to return home? Or could she even hope to find another position as a governess?
How was it possible that she lost one job for sleeping with her boss, and another for refusing him? That disgusting bastard!
She was seeing red even when the new man approached her. "What do you want?"
"G'day," he offered her his hand. She ignored it. "Me name is Timmy Michelson. I jus' noticed that you seem a lil' out of sorts. I may be able to help you."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I got invited to a party, Race!" Ophelia was practically floating. "A real classy party at that! A COUNT'S party!"
Race couldn't help but be impressed. But he and his fellow newsies all knew firsthand that the rich were not necessarily the most honorable people. " `At sounds like fun. Maybe me er Mush `ere could escort ya. Ya know, ta be safe."
"Safe? There'll be tons of people there, an' servants an' stuff. I'll be fine," she assured him.
"What's this count's name?" Race asked. Maybe he'd follow her, just in case.
"The Count de Castellane," she answered trying to mock a French accent.
Mush froze. "Heya guys, I... I gotta run. See you'se lata!" And with that he took off out of the racetrack.
"I `pologize for my friend here, his mother never taught him how to treat a lady." Timmy winked at her and stuffed a dollar into her hand. "Notice the poor boy is still single," he said as he grabbed Georgie by the wrist and forced up his ringless hand. Georgie was the token pretty boy in the group, dark hair, dark eyes, and dark complexion. He was also the local lady-killer. The waitress just smiled, took the money, and retreated.
Mutsy grunted, which was his way of announcing that he planned on speaking. "So, we's gonna take out that butcher shop tonight if'n he don't pay aw fee?" Timmy smiled half-heartedly, he knew Mutsy was just iching to smack someone around. He had the body of a gorilla, and some would say the brain as well.
"You'se know," Sergio put in, "that we `ave been `dere five times fer it. Dis `ere IS our territory. If'n `e don't like it, `e can move on er get soaked." Sergio was the boss' son. The big joke was why he had a Greek name and he belonged to the most feared and respected Irish family in New York. The boys mostly faked Greek accents when they saw him, and his face would go as red as his hair, and he would attack them every time. His Irish temper never failed, and the boys never grew tired of the joke. Danny-boy was his little brother, and they pretty much resembled each other physically, but Danny's personality was much quieter. He was a listener. Timmy suspected that Danny-boy was planning on taking over the family some day.
Spot was the other quiet one. He was new to the group, but he came with raving reviews about his tomfoolery before he met up with the Mannigan family. Apparently, he was the leader of a tight-knit group of child thieves in Brooklyn, or so the legend went. He never said whether or not it was true. He just smiled his wicked smile, and no one questioned him further. But when he did speak, people jumped, and that's what got him into the band. Spot changed the subject. "Does any a you'se got money on this next match? I'se got anoda tip.." He smiled that wicked grin again. Immediately all five of the others started shouting and calling bids about the next boxing match.
The shouting stopped just as abruptly as it had started. In fact, the whole bar went silent when the tall redhead stepped out of the brilliant light outside and materialized inside the tavern where they could see her. Her done-up hair and lace blouse set her apart from the other women in the bar.
"Looks like somebody's wife is out to get `im," Timmy mused.
"Too bad it's not mine," said Sergio playing with the gold claudah on his ring finger.
The lady looked around. "Stop ya starin'! It ain't like ya's never seen a woman before!" She yelled. "Bring me sumpthin strong," she ordered the bartender and plopped down in a flimsy wooden chair. Once they heard her accent, and saw her fiery temper, they realized her not as a threat, but one of them, and everyone went back to conversation.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Sadie slouched over her - whatever it was they gave her to drink--and fumed. Where would she go now? Could she find enough money to return home? Or could she even hope to find another position as a governess?
How was it possible that she lost one job for sleeping with her boss, and another for refusing him? That disgusting bastard!
She was seeing red even when the new man approached her. "What do you want?"
"G'day," he offered her his hand. She ignored it. "Me name is Timmy Michelson. I jus' noticed that you seem a lil' out of sorts. I may be able to help you."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I got invited to a party, Race!" Ophelia was practically floating. "A real classy party at that! A COUNT'S party!"
Race couldn't help but be impressed. But he and his fellow newsies all knew firsthand that the rich were not necessarily the most honorable people. " `At sounds like fun. Maybe me er Mush `ere could escort ya. Ya know, ta be safe."
"Safe? There'll be tons of people there, an' servants an' stuff. I'll be fine," she assured him.
"What's this count's name?" Race asked. Maybe he'd follow her, just in case.
"The Count de Castellane," she answered trying to mock a French accent.
Mush froze. "Heya guys, I... I gotta run. See you'se lata!" And with that he took off out of the racetrack.