Past Secrets and Present Times
Chapter 31
By Hotshot
Though several of the Brooklyn newsies started selling in her neighborhood Hotshot couldn't get used to her lifestyle. Her father wanted her to stop being a newsie and act more like a respectable young woman. He wasn't near as bad as Pulitzer, but she couldn't go out with them near as much as before. It wasn't that he didn't allow her to; he merely frowned upon it. She didn't want to disappoint him.
Within the first week she was getting bored and impatient. As a newsie there was always something to do, or something exciting going on. She loved being at home and seeing her father and brother every day but she couldn't take having nothing to do.
Every afternoon she and Pickpocket talked about everything that was going on. Thankfully Spot wasn't mad at her, and neither were most of the Manhattan guys. He asked her about some information concerning the leaders meeting. It was a yearly occurrence that Pickpocket and Hotshot had been dragged along to every year since Spot had become leader.
"I know we complained every year but I think I'm gonna miss being there." Hotshot said.
Pickpocket lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply, "That's only 'cause you ain't gonna be there. I'd gladly let you go for me."
She pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and tossed it on the ground, "Don't smoke. It'll kill you one day."
"Yes, Mother."
"Don't start with me Kyle."
"Hotshot," he whined, "Don't call me that." He stood and pulled on his cap, "How long you been back here for?"
"Week and a half, maybe a little more."
"Good luck, I gotta go back and catch up wit' some of the guys. I'll talk to you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," she nodded. As he trotted down the street she started inside. Blackjack was out with some of his friends. She picked up Specs' book from the end of her bed and opened it. She'd had so much free time over the past few days so most of it was finished. Of course reading out her in a trance until supper and after that she was right back in her room. By the time she finished Blackjack was home and she could hear him in his room, which was again right next to hers.
The book, and talking to Pickpocket had made her think. The idea of going back to the newsies was growing in the back of her mind and spreading. She just wanted someone to back her up on the idea. She walked out of her room and a little ways down the hall to where her brother's bedroom door was. She knew he had a guest but didn't really care who it was. She opened the door to find him sitting in a chair by his desk and Rebel stretched out on the bed.
"Hey kiddo," he said in greeting, "What've you been up to today?"
"Andres, you're not my father so stop talking like you are," she muttered crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe.
"Sorry, you wanna come in?" he apologized.
"Nah, but I need to ask you sumthin'. Reb, I'd appreciate and answer from you too."
"Alright, what is it?" Rebel rolled onto his stomach and looked at her.
"Do you think I made the wrong decision in coming back here?"
"Maybe," Rebel said, "I mean Specs is in love wit' you and youse obviously in love wit' him, so I really think you shoulda stayed wit' him."
"For the last time I am not in love with Specs!" she cried.
"Really?" Rebel asked, "Well for two people who ain't in love you sure was kissin' him an awful lot at that party. You'd think you mighta chosen a place not so close to the closet."
Hotshot stood there in shock for a moment; she'd completely forgotten that Rebel and Lily had been in there.
"I think you'd be better off with the newsies than you are here, but that's just my opinion. I really gotta go Black," he nodded to her brother, "Work starts early. I'll talk to you tomorrow night."
Blackjack grinned watching his friend use the window instead of the door. Even after knowing them for over ten years he still liked the window better.
"So Blackjack," she turned to her brother, "Do you think I made the right decision?"
Her brother stood and leaned against his desk. "I think that's a decision you need to make on your own." His face held a serious expression, "But I also think that Dad and I could have made it just as well on our own. If you decide you want to go back you've got me behind you one hundred percent."
Without a word she turned and walked back to her room. She decided to sleep on it, knowing she'd give herself a major headache if she didn't.
Pickpocket wasn't around to talk to the next day, seeing as the meetings in Manhattan had started. All the same Hotshot sat out on the front steps. She listed to herself he pros and cons of going back to the newsies and staying with her father. She thought of almost every thing that could go wrong and reasons for staying in either one. By the time the sun set she had reached a decision.
She was on her way downstairs as Blackjack and Rebel made their way up, laughing about some younger newsies who'd gotten into a fight near Rebel's apartment. Both of them quieted a little when they saw her but no one said anything. They continued on their way starting up a conversation again. She walked down and entered the sitting room where her father was sitting, "Dad, can I talk to you?"
The older man took off his glasses and placed the pile of papers he was reading onto a table. "Sure, what about?"
"Dad, I want to go be a newsie again."
He raised an eyebrow, "Absolutely not."
"Why not!"
"Because a young lady does not need to associate with dozens of teenage boys every day."
"You ain't my legal guardian anymore. I can do this with or without your approval, but I want you to be behind me on this."
"Brooke, I know the way those boys think and act-"
"Exactly, c'mon Dad, why'd you stay a newsie so long if it wasn't a good way to live?"
"Brooke?"
"Just tell me why you were a newsie dad." She said, "I won't complain if you don't see my point."
"Alright," he agreed.
~*~*~Flashback~*~*~
His parents had always sent him to the public school so he would associate with different kinds of people and not just the rich. His best friends were the sons of those men who could barely afford to pay rent on their tenements, not the rich upper class boys. Normally a few of these boys could be found around the house, which is where his father overheard a lot of information.
One day the boys were lounging around and talking about their jobs. One of them delivered packages, another worked in a restaurant, and yet another worked in a shoe factory.
"So why don't you got a job Chris?" one of them asked.
"Don't need one," Christian commented, "When my dad retires I'm going to take over his firm. We have money so I don't need to gat a job."
It was this information that his father confronted him with several nights later. "I want you to learn how to take care of yourself," he said, "I am handing the firm down to you but I do want you to have some kind of work experience. Since you turn 14 at the beginning of next month I'm going to make you get that experience. You will leave in the morning and support yourself for one month. You'll need to get a job and supply yourself with food, clothes, and shelter. At the end of that month come and see me. You've got until then to find something you can do.
A few days later Christian was walking the streets wondering what kind of job he could possibly do. His clothes were layered with dirt, seeing as he'd just played a game of baseball with several friends at the park. High society members of town looked at him as nothing more than a street rat when he dressed that way. He was so lost in his train of thought that he didn't notice the boy in front of him. The two fell to the ground as they collided, papers fell to the ground in a heap from the older boy's hands.
"I'm sorry," Christian apologized quickly, "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going."
The boy picked up his papers and stood, "Don' worry 'bout it. I wasn't either." Her went on his way.
Christian pushed himself up and stood where he was for a minute, hairs on the back of his neck sticking up. The boy he had just collided with was yelling out headlines. That was it; he'd be a newsie!
"Hey," he called catching up with the boy, "Who should I talk to about becoming a newsie?"
The newsie finished selling a paper to an elderly gentleman. "The leader," he said, "That is if you wanna sell here in Brooklyn."
"Do you know where I can find him?"
The newsie spat in his hand and extended it, "They call me Rusty. You wanna be a newsie, meet me tomorrow at the distribution center over on Stockwell Road."
Christian was at the distribution station early the next morning dressed in some of his less formal clothes. Rusty introduced him around and bought him some papers. For the next few days he personally took the younger boy around selling. In a few short days he had already earned the nickname 'Brains' for winning an argument with Smarts, a newsie who was always ready with a sarcastic comment, and a for quoting Shakespeare to a few young ladies.
He left home confident on the day his job search was supposed to start. Having made many friends among the Brooklyn newsies he was welcomed at the lodging house. He was taught fighting techniques as well as ones for selling. He claimed a spot near his father's office but made sure to stay out of his father's sight.
During weekend poker games he began joining the fights. Two boys would start by throwing insults at one another and then a fistfight would eventually start. He nearly always won. By the time the month was over he was selling over a hundred papers a day and looked more like one of the newsies. His skin was tanned from spending so much time outside and his muscles showed more from fighting and exercise. He'd also managed to pick up the street accent of New York.
One morning he rose early and made it to the front steps of his house just as his father was leaving for work. "Buy a pape mista?" he asked.
At first his father didn't notice who it was but as he looked up to pay he recognized his son's face. That night he moved home and celebrated his success with his family.
After school he continued to work with the newsies and often spent weekends and vacations at the lodging house. His fighting improved, as well as his accent. Sometimes it was enough to bother his father. How did he look with a son who spoke in street dialogue at his dinner parties?
Christian had just barely graduated and was seventeen when Rusty announced he was leaving. No one was surprised by the news seeing as Rusty was nearly twenty-three and too old to be selling. They were more surprised, however, when Rust picked Brains to take his place as leader. Some of the newsies who had resented Brains for his rich parents argued but Rusty pointed out that Brains was tougher and smarter than most of them. He'd keep the Brooklyn territory from being invaded.
Brains moved into the lodging house permanently because of this. He visited his mother's small dress shop every afternoon and went to dinner with them once a week but spent most of his time with the newsies. He was a natural at being leader. All of the boys respected him and followed his orders. New newsies were trained and years passed. When he was eighteen Brains met a young woman who had just arrived from Spain. He spent time with her and she often came by the lodging house so everyone knew her. Christian was reluctant to leave the newsies after they were married but decided it was for the best. He left a younger newsie named Dock in charge.
Even though he was married and working at the firm Brains couldn't stay away. He found time to go visit the newsies on weekends and left his office door open to any of them. If Dock sent for him he tried to make it down to the docks later with advise. Once when he was there he noticed two young boys who were new to the newsies. The two didn't look alike but he could tell they were close. He didn't realize that he was looking at the two future leaders of Brooklyn. As time passed the visits grew less frequent, as did Dock's visits to his office. He thought they might have forgotten him. At the trial for Alexander Thomas' murder, however, there were dozens of newsies sitting outside and all of them screamed headlines that proclaimed he was innocent.
~*~*~End Flashback~*~*~
"So you see why I have to go back!" Hotshot yelled.
"Brooke, I don't want you being a newsie again."
"Dad, the entire time we were growing up you told me an' Andres about how great it was being a newsie. I lived it for the past ten years Dad, and it was even better than you described it. You were twenty-one before you left. Why should I be any different? I want to enjoy it as long as I can."
Her father sighed, "Alright, you can sell in Brooklyn."
"No, it has to be in Manhattan." She spoke calmly.
"Why?" her father asked, "If you sold in Brooklyn you could stay here."
"Dad I don't want to stay here. I want to take care of myself and not depend on you for everything."
"What else?" he asked, seeing there was something more behind her decision.
"There's this guy Specs there. I really like him Dad. Blink, Rebel, Pickpocket, an' Andres all say I love him. I don' know if I love him, but I really like him. It killed me to tell him I wasn't going back to Manhattan after the trial ended."
Her father sighed and thought for a moment, "Alright, but I want you to come back here and visit your brother and I occasionally."
"I will. I'll spend the day here tomorrow, but I wanna be back there by Friday morning."
She hugged her father and the two spent the rest of the night going over 'the rules'. He wanted her to visit the house often, be there on holidays, and to not get I trouble. She agreed with his facts and in return asked that the newsies be allowed to hide there when the bulls were after them and that the kitchen door would stay unlocked. There was also a small series of other things that needed to be done. But in the end they agreed on everything and a plan was set up.
She walked upstairs to find her brother and Rebel still sitting in his room, in a similar arrangement to the previous night. She leaned against the wall near the door with a smirk on her face; one similar to the one Spot usually wore.
"Don't plot," Blackjack told her, "Leave that to the professionals. We got an idea about how to get you out and selling, alright?"
"Forget it," she muttered.
"What!? We'se been up here all night tryin' ta think of these!" he exclaimed, "You don' even wanna hear them!"
She rolled her eyes and glanced at Rebel, as if to ask 'is he always like this?'.
Rebel laughed and nodded. As he stopped he kept his gaze on her and became serious. With a grin he spoke, "He said you could go back, didn't he?"
She nodded.
"You're going back. Good Brooklyn needs more people like you…" Andres rambled off about how much fun she'd have in Brooklyn.
"Shut up Andres, she's goin' back to Manhattan."
Hotshot nodded in agreement with Rebel as the older boy opened the window to leave. "Goin' back Friday morning."
"I'm glad youse goin' back." Her brother said once Rebel was gone, "You seem depressed around here. You'll do better with the newsies anyway."
"I guess I will." She agreed.
As she lay in bed that night Hotshot had new things to think of. She hadn't seen Specs on the streets in the past several days. There was no way of telling if this was a good or bad sign. It could mean that he was angry with her for what she said, personally she couldn't blame him. On the other hand he could just want to give her time to think. She hoped it was the latter of the two reasons. No one had brought her news about him so there was no way to know.
The next morning Rosa took her shopping again. With her leaving her father wanted to be sure she had the proper clothes for the oncoming winter. She already had enough shirts and pants. She picked up a jacket, a few pairs of socks, some gloves that she would probably never use, and a new pair of boots.
While Hotshot complained that she would never dress up Rosa insisted on buying a nice blouse and a simple skirt. Rosa complained that she should at least look a little more ladylike if she went to Irving Hall or somewhere else nice with any of the boys.
Hotshot tried to explain that they expected her to dress like them but the woman would not hear of it. Hotshot reluctantly tried on a few and settled on one similar to the color of her dress for the party. She warned the older woman that it was the last thing that was going in her bag and was only returned with a glare.
She'd expected to spend the night with her father, but it seemed he had other plans. He described them to her and she made her way up to her brother's room before releasing her surprised laughter.
"What's so funny?" Andres asked, for the first time all week his Room was not occupied by Rebel.
"Blackjack, When do you think the last time Dad was on a date was?"
"When he was going with Mom." Blackjack said.
Hotshot leaned on his desk smiling; "He and Rosa are going to dinner tonight."
Blackjack grinned, "They're going on a date."
"So do you like Rosa?" she asked her brother seeing as he had not known her for very long.
He nodded, "So far. She reminds me of Mom a little, you know, before Pulitzer. That and she got you out of Joe's house a bunch of times."
Hotshot laughed, "She's almost as bad as me, you, or Mom used to be when she gets mad though. Screaming in Spanish. I think she's staying here since she quit at Pulitzer's. Maybe we'll have a mom again."
"Maybe," her brother agreed, "Shouldn't you be getting to bed? You need to be up early enough to catch them at the lodging house tomorrow."
She rolled her eyes but left the room. She made her way slowly to her room and pulled everything she needed out of her closet. The bag for her personal belongings was the same one she'd brought to Manhattan from Brooklyn so it was small enough. She put the skirt and blouse in to make Rosa happy, then two pairs of pants and sets of shirts, socks, etc. Pictures and her pocket watch were slipped into a small bag that she was bringing along for her savings. By this time there was barely any room left in her bag. She dropped the gloves in to give to one of the boys and a deck of cards she'd bought the previous day.
Another tomorrow to think about. Was Specs mad at her or thinking she was mad at him? How did the other guys feel? Was Blink even out of the hospital? She'd have to tell Spot she was staying in Manhattan too. Oh, that would be a fun task. She'd explain to them why she was back, and why she left them for that matter. As these thoughts flooded her mind it became harder and harder to try to sleep. She played a few games of Solitaire as she would at the lodging house. At the end of the second game she remembered one last thing she had to bring back. She quickly pulled a book out of her bookcase and forced it into the bag. The book Specs had lent her to read, The Three Musketeers. He'd probably want it back. Once she was sure the book was safely tucked away she lay back down.
Tomorrow was going to be a long day.
A/N: I probably won't have much of an author note for this one and I don't have the time or energy to see who reviewed and do shout-outs. For those people who did, thank you. Again feel free to IM me if you see me online.
The next few chapters are gonna have a lot of ups and downs in them. I know how this is gonna end but I need to work out a few things first. I would, as always love your input especially in the form of a review. My stupid school board is making us all go back to school and I am being forced to go out and look for a job so I may not have as much time anymore.
Though I love this story dearly and do not want it to end I am trying to finish it quickly for you. I would love to break one hundred reviews before I do so. At this point I only need 20 more reviews to do so. And I promise shout-outs in the next few chapters if you do review. Hope you all are having a happy new year! And that you liked this chapter!
~Hotshot~~~