New York City ~ 1898 ~ Chapter Four
Kat O'Hara was running around the backstage are of Medda Larkenson's place trying to find one of the props that had mysteriously disappeared an hour before the opening act. She had been working for Medda for almost four years now but she had refused to take the stage even though she could sing because she had terrible stage fright. Along the way she had met some newsies from Queens and the Bronx but so far she hadn't met any from Manhattan. One of her closest friends, Legs O'Conner was an ex-newsie and had along the way of their friendship given her a nickname, Irish Fury. Now everyone mostly called her Fury but Medda insisted on calling her Kat.
In the midst of trying to find the prop she ended up getting her legs tangled in some sort of cord on the ground and fell flat on her face. She growled and stood up and looked at what it was, rope that looked like a lasso. "Medda!! What is dis stupid rope doin here?" After living awhile in New York she had begun to get it's accent but still had a tinge of a Chicago accent too.
"What rope?"
"Dis," She said picking it up.
"Oh it must be Kelly's he probably left it here by accident."
"Yeah well da trash is where it's goin if he isn't here ta claim it. What's 'is name?"
"Jack Kelly," Irish stormed up the stairs and threw the curtain open and stomped across the stage to the center. Normally all these people would have given her the creeps but she was to angry to care. She tried getting everyone's attention but they weren't paying her any attention so she whistled shrilly and it pierced the air turning everyone's head in her direction. "Thank you! Now who da hell is Jack Kelly?"
You could tell just by looking at her that whoever it was, was going to get one hell of a tongue lashing. The guy in question stood up tall and brave, "I'se Jack Kelly, what's it to ya?"
She quickly jumped off the stage and walked over to where he was standing, "Well Jack Kelly I assume dat dis rope here is yours."
He looked at what she held, "Yeah, where'd ya find it?"
"Backstage now the ting I'm wonderin is why it was back dere to begin wit. I mean if it is yours den why did you'se jist leave it back dere for anyone to trip over? Because common sense says dat you'se wouldn't leave dis on da ground-"
"Well it ain't like I put it dere purposely ta trip someone." Irish's temper quickly flared and she turned and pinned him with a glare.
"Don't interupt me! Like I was sayin you'se wouldn't jist leave dis on da ground because dat would be stupid and make you'se look like a jack ass but den again dat's exactly what you are ain't it?"
"Look I'se don't need dis jist give me da rope and I'se promise not to leave it-" He was cut off when she punched him.
"I'se told you'se not ta interupt me, but look at dat I'se gotta go nice chattin wit ya ya bummer here's ya rope." She quickly threw it on the floor and walked back to the stage and jumped up and walked behind the curtain, leaving Jack to stare after her.
Just then two guys walked into the place, one with a cowboy hat on and a red bandana around his neck and the other was shorter and had a cigar sticking out of his mouth. They walked to the table and glanced at the newsie who was still staring back at the stage. "Hey uh Blink?"
He turned and frowned at Jack, "You'se bettah be grateful Jack I'se jist took a punch for you'se."
"Who punched ya? I'll soak da scab!"
Blink picked up the rope and handed it to Jack, "You left dis backstage and dey are back dere." Jack headed towards the stage and behind it, where he saw Medda talking with a girl with curly blonde hair and green eyes, something about her tugged his memory.
"Medda!" Medda turned around and smiled warmly and gave the girl a warning look, to which she rolled her eyes and then studied the guy. He was tall and had on a cowboy hat and a red bandana around his neck.
"Why Kelly what are you doing back here?"
Irish's jaw dropped and she stepped forward in front of Medda, "You'se are Jack Kelly?"
"Da one and only."
Irish started laughing and looked back at Medda, "Oops punched da wrong newsie."
"You'se da one dat gave Blink da shiner?"
"Da one and only," She said mocking his earlier statement.
"Do I know you'se?"
She looked at him closely and strangely her mind flashed back to her first night in New York City in which she spent in the refuge. She then smiled, "Frankie Sullivan is dat you?"
His jaw dropped and then he smiled, "Kat O'Hara? So how was it da rest of you'se stay?"
"Not bad, defiantly not eventful as da first night." He stepped forward and they hugged and began talking, catching each other up on what had happened since they'd seen each other last.
Kat O'Hara was running around the backstage are of Medda Larkenson's place trying to find one of the props that had mysteriously disappeared an hour before the opening act. She had been working for Medda for almost four years now but she had refused to take the stage even though she could sing because she had terrible stage fright. Along the way she had met some newsies from Queens and the Bronx but so far she hadn't met any from Manhattan. One of her closest friends, Legs O'Conner was an ex-newsie and had along the way of their friendship given her a nickname, Irish Fury. Now everyone mostly called her Fury but Medda insisted on calling her Kat.
In the midst of trying to find the prop she ended up getting her legs tangled in some sort of cord on the ground and fell flat on her face. She growled and stood up and looked at what it was, rope that looked like a lasso. "Medda!! What is dis stupid rope doin here?" After living awhile in New York she had begun to get it's accent but still had a tinge of a Chicago accent too.
"What rope?"
"Dis," She said picking it up.
"Oh it must be Kelly's he probably left it here by accident."
"Yeah well da trash is where it's goin if he isn't here ta claim it. What's 'is name?"
"Jack Kelly," Irish stormed up the stairs and threw the curtain open and stomped across the stage to the center. Normally all these people would have given her the creeps but she was to angry to care. She tried getting everyone's attention but they weren't paying her any attention so she whistled shrilly and it pierced the air turning everyone's head in her direction. "Thank you! Now who da hell is Jack Kelly?"
You could tell just by looking at her that whoever it was, was going to get one hell of a tongue lashing. The guy in question stood up tall and brave, "I'se Jack Kelly, what's it to ya?"
She quickly jumped off the stage and walked over to where he was standing, "Well Jack Kelly I assume dat dis rope here is yours."
He looked at what she held, "Yeah, where'd ya find it?"
"Backstage now the ting I'm wonderin is why it was back dere to begin wit. I mean if it is yours den why did you'se jist leave it back dere for anyone to trip over? Because common sense says dat you'se wouldn't leave dis on da ground-"
"Well it ain't like I put it dere purposely ta trip someone." Irish's temper quickly flared and she turned and pinned him with a glare.
"Don't interupt me! Like I was sayin you'se wouldn't jist leave dis on da ground because dat would be stupid and make you'se look like a jack ass but den again dat's exactly what you are ain't it?"
"Look I'se don't need dis jist give me da rope and I'se promise not to leave it-" He was cut off when she punched him.
"I'se told you'se not ta interupt me, but look at dat I'se gotta go nice chattin wit ya ya bummer here's ya rope." She quickly threw it on the floor and walked back to the stage and jumped up and walked behind the curtain, leaving Jack to stare after her.
Just then two guys walked into the place, one with a cowboy hat on and a red bandana around his neck and the other was shorter and had a cigar sticking out of his mouth. They walked to the table and glanced at the newsie who was still staring back at the stage. "Hey uh Blink?"
He turned and frowned at Jack, "You'se bettah be grateful Jack I'se jist took a punch for you'se."
"Who punched ya? I'll soak da scab!"
Blink picked up the rope and handed it to Jack, "You left dis backstage and dey are back dere." Jack headed towards the stage and behind it, where he saw Medda talking with a girl with curly blonde hair and green eyes, something about her tugged his memory.
"Medda!" Medda turned around and smiled warmly and gave the girl a warning look, to which she rolled her eyes and then studied the guy. He was tall and had on a cowboy hat and a red bandana around his neck.
"Why Kelly what are you doing back here?"
Irish's jaw dropped and she stepped forward in front of Medda, "You'se are Jack Kelly?"
"Da one and only."
Irish started laughing and looked back at Medda, "Oops punched da wrong newsie."
"You'se da one dat gave Blink da shiner?"
"Da one and only," She said mocking his earlier statement.
"Do I know you'se?"
She looked at him closely and strangely her mind flashed back to her first night in New York City in which she spent in the refuge. She then smiled, "Frankie Sullivan is dat you?"
His jaw dropped and then he smiled, "Kat O'Hara? So how was it da rest of you'se stay?"
"Not bad, defiantly not eventful as da first night." He stepped forward and they hugged and began talking, catching each other up on what had happened since they'd seen each other last.