Warning: This story contains adult language, graphic violence, attempted
rape, attempted suicide, and sexually explicit themes. Reader's discretion
is advised.
Rating - R.
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. Apollonia, Giselle, Checkers, and other miscellaneous characters are all mine.
Chapter 27: The Sound of Silence
The red-light district was full of activity in the night splendor of Manhattan. The johns and pimps were quite busy soliciting and selling their women of the night. Bums and various men were saturated with the stench of their alcohol; their state of derangement only overtaking their brains. Opium-taking addicts sat around in the front room smoking their pipes as they laid around, eyelids closed, eyes rolled back until one only saw the whites of their eyes. It was a ghastly sight as one man looked as if he was about to kill over. Absinthe-soaked men and women drank to their hearts content as they delighted in the enjoyment of each other's company.
Banner spoke to a shady gentleman behind a counter briefly. He gave him directions, pointing his finger upwards. Banner nodded to the knave and signaled to his associates to follow him.
Once they reached the top of the stairs, they walked to room 21. Opening the door, Banner and Wainwright walked into the drab accommodations. They were met by sounds of moaning and groaning from a woman and two men. There were two beds in the room, each with a couple occupying it. The entrance of three men didn't seem to bother the duos involved in a serious screw session. One of the women, the one being quiet as she was being mounted, yelped at the sight of the menacing trio. Morris looked over his shoulder, shocked to be met by an audience.
"Oscar, we have company!" He said as Oscar stopped humping the prostitute. They were both surprised to see Snyder walk into the room, like a landlord coming to collect the rent. Oscar's eyes damn near popped out of their sockets at the sight of his past ally. The woman being paid for his services made no move to cover her exposed breasts, as opposed to the other who hid as much as she could beneath Morris.
"Jesus, Snyder! If ya wanted ta watch all ya had ta do was ask!"
"There's no need to be startled, Oscar. I'm just here on a little business."
"Well, can da business wait? Me and Oscar were kinda busy here."
Snyder smirked at the horny cads as he took a seat in a dilapidated chair. "Don't worry, fellows. I'm not here to cut in on your action. I'm just here to gather a little information from you two. It involves the whereabouts of Francis Sullivan, otherwise known as Jack Kelly."
Morris' erection went down at the mere mention of the name. Oscar ran a hand through his greasy hair, exhaling liberally. They could have thrown Snyder out by the collar for interrupting a perfectly good fuck to discuss the location of a handsome scoundrel that put them and their uncle out of the newspaper business.
"Alright, Snyder. I'll tell ya what I know. Last time I checked he lived in da Manhattan area doing God knows what, and is burning up a sweat fucking some dame for all I know."
"You've seen him around, you have?"
"Not for a while now. I used ta see him coming out of Brady's Bar with a woman on his arm. Usually some whore he met there for some bedroom fun."
Snyder smiled evilly, hoping that he was getting closer to capturing his prey with the report he had just received.
"Any idea where he lives, specifically? An apartment? A brownstone?"
Both nodded their heads no. Snyder looked at both cads. Casually, he put his hand in his left coat pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. Holding it up between his index and middle fingers, he then dropped the money onto the foot of Morris' bed.
"I think that the incentive speaks for itself if either of you is able to obtain Kelly's current location."
Morris' eyes widened greatly as did Oscar's. Greasing the palms of two dregs would definitely increase Snyder's chances of finding Jack he thought. Unhurriedly, he rose from the chair. He tipped his hat to both the guys and the women. He sauntered out of the room, with Banner and Wainwright following suit. Oscar exhaled when they closed the door behind them. Morris smiled at his brother, signifying to him that they had just helped a former collaborator get one step closer to catching the enemy.
"'Bout damn time! I didn't spend all dis money on dese two sluts just ta have Snyder come in and interrupt our flow."
Oscar smiled at Morris before going back to their business of getting off on the women who were patiently waiting beneath them.
~
On the ranch, Jack was going over with Señor Sandoval the plans for the house, stables, and fencing arrangements for the ranch. Sandoval had provided generously his help towards helping Jack build his ranch. He felt truly indebted to Jack for saving his daughter's life; therefore, he provided every amenity that Jack asked for. Sandoval put Jack in touch with the best ranch builder that he knew. Alejandro Gonzalez, a very handsome and respectable designer, arranged a meeting with Jack for the plans of their future estate.
Apollonia also had a hand in the activities. She took the initiative to decorate the house that the two of them decided to call home. It was a stately villa of typical Spanish design with fancy wrought-iron railings, reminiscent of some of the structural designs she grew up around in New Orleans. It was once occupied by a wealthy businessman who moved back to Mexico and Sandoval took it upon himself to play guardian to the abandoned house. Since it was available for occupancy, Sandoval offered it to Jack and Apollonia. They immediately fell in love with the property. They decided to call their home Belvedere, which in Italian means "beautiful view." She found it appropriate to name their ranch such, with the mountains standing right behind their house, almost like a protective wall guarding the new hacienda and the blue sky that hovered above them like a layer of paint coloring the clear canvas of a breathtaking atmosphere.
She constantly thumbed through catalogs trying to come to a decision on what furniture they should have, which rugs should cover the floors, what painting they should hang on the walls. Since she grew up in a higher socio- economic class than Jack and had an eye for such luxuries, he let her make all of the decisions of what should and shouldn't dwell in their home. Jack, being a man, did not necessarily take an interest in beautifying their house. He would have been happy with four walls and a roof over his head. But being in a relationship, he knew that women always had the upper hand in matters of domestic bliss. Besides, he trusted Apollonia's taste.
Gonzalez discussed in heavy detail what the stables would look like and where they should be located. Jack whipped out his old copy of Western Jim comic book and showed the draftsman an illustration of what he wanted the stables to look like. Gonzalez studied the picture carefully. After a few minutes of mental debate, he turned to Jack.
"Señor Kelly, sometimes I wonder if you are meant to be a vaquero or a shrewd businessman." He laughingly said with his heavy accent. Jack just smiled at him. He never fancied himself as a sharp capitalist. That was all different now. He was now a hacendado, an owner of a substantial estate. If only his friends could see him now.
They quickly got down to the transaction of having lumber brought in from town with the help of numerous men and boys to assist in transferring the logs of wood to Jack's property.
"Enrique, vamos! Poco Pronto!" Jack heard a man yell to his adolescent son who was sitting on the sidewalk chewing on some beef jerky. He quickly got up and ran to the scene of men loading the wagons to the hilt. As soon as they were filled, they drivers whipped their horses to transport the goods all the way to Belvedere. The activities went on for hours on end, with everyone taking occasional breaks.
Around six o'clock, Jack and Gonzalez decided to wrap up everything and pick up from where they left off the next day. Exhausted was the word of the day by this time. Jack felt that he accomplished almost as much in a day as he did in a lifetime. This kind of strenuous work seemed worth it. He got a greater high off of completing his ranch than from printing a newspaper. He felt that it was because he was working with his own two hands to carry out his dream.
He slept soundly and peacefully once he got back to the hotel. Tonight the room was exceptionally cold. Apollonia kept muttering about her discomfort, punching her pillow noisily, sighing. Finally, drowsily and irritated, Jack woke up.
"What's da matter, baby?"
"I can't sleep. It's too cold."
"Well, I know a good way to keep you warm." He said smiling salaciously as he turned over to his side to face her, running his hand up and down her leg. Apollonia gave a him smirk.
"Can't you keep that thing in your pants for five minutes?" She asked rhetorically.
"With a woman like you at my side? Nevah!" He said, his strong Manhattan accent clearly evident in his speech. Needless to say, Apollonia wasn't going to get much sleep that night anyway.
~
In the middle of this New York night, much had been accomplished. Businesses closed, bars were open late, brothels were busy, and thieves were running through the hours of darkness continuously committing crimes. On the Brooklyn Bridge, corruption was invading its scene.
"Alright, you filthy excuse for human existence, we are not going to play with you much longer. Don't make us do something we'll regret." Stated Banner, who was in no mood to interrogate anybody forever. He wanted to get the information out as quickly as possible.
"Listen to me you half-human, frizzy-haired piece of shit. You are not going to get away with protecting your friend this time around. You fucked up once by inadvertently identifying your lawbreaking pal, but now you are going to gladly give me the whereabouts of Mr. Sullivan or, as you filthy tribes of the New York underworld like to call him, Jack Kelly."
The two roughnecks held Crutchy tight by his ankles, dangling him over the bridge the entire time. Crutchy, screaming and crying, pleaded helplessly for the criminals to let him go unharmed. They would not listen. He saw the darkness of the river right below him. It didn't even seem like water, until he saw his crutch floating in the waves of the watercourse.
"Please, please, Mr. Snyder. I never meant anything I ever said to ya before. Dat comment I made about da rats was just a joke. Can't ya take a joke? Oh, God, Mr. Snyder, please, please let me go .... PLEASE!!!!!!!!"
"That's just like a cripple; always trying to use their pitiful pleas to gain sympathy. Do you think anybody's going to miss a half-witted, orphanage mentoring gimp that can't walk? You probably can't even piss straight, you physically-challenged, limp dick freak." He menacingly said as he leaned in toward Crutchy, whose tears were streaming down his forehead as he found it quite hard to breathe being suspended upside down.
Wainwright and Banner stood nearby, with Wainwright smoking a cigarette. He looked on lightly smiling at Snyder harassing a poor, disabled man just to gather a little information on the current whereabouts of a past juvenile delinquent.
"I'm going to ask this one more time. Where's Sullivan?"
"Mr. Snyder, I swear I don't know where he is. He lived on the Lower East Side in some apartment building. He would come to da orphanage to visit sometimes, and he would go to da brothels on da edge of town. Dat's all I know!"
"That's all?"
"DAT'S ALL, I SWEAR!" Crutchy screamed.
"Come on, Snyder. Obviously the gimp doesn't know anything about where your little friend is. Let's just go." Wainwright said as he flicked ash from his cigarette before taking another drag.
The men who held him looked over to Snyder as he nodded to them. Walking to the carriage, Wainwright smirked at Snyder for his evil exploits. The other men entered the carriage right after him. Snyder looked back at the two men who were still holding Crutchy by his legs.
"Oh, by the way, the rats and I have very much in common." On that note, Snyder was met with the screeching sound of a thin, handicapped man plunging to his death.
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. Apollonia, Giselle, Checkers, and other miscellaneous characters are all mine.
Chapter 27: The Sound of Silence
The red-light district was full of activity in the night splendor of Manhattan. The johns and pimps were quite busy soliciting and selling their women of the night. Bums and various men were saturated with the stench of their alcohol; their state of derangement only overtaking their brains. Opium-taking addicts sat around in the front room smoking their pipes as they laid around, eyelids closed, eyes rolled back until one only saw the whites of their eyes. It was a ghastly sight as one man looked as if he was about to kill over. Absinthe-soaked men and women drank to their hearts content as they delighted in the enjoyment of each other's company.
Banner spoke to a shady gentleman behind a counter briefly. He gave him directions, pointing his finger upwards. Banner nodded to the knave and signaled to his associates to follow him.
Once they reached the top of the stairs, they walked to room 21. Opening the door, Banner and Wainwright walked into the drab accommodations. They were met by sounds of moaning and groaning from a woman and two men. There were two beds in the room, each with a couple occupying it. The entrance of three men didn't seem to bother the duos involved in a serious screw session. One of the women, the one being quiet as she was being mounted, yelped at the sight of the menacing trio. Morris looked over his shoulder, shocked to be met by an audience.
"Oscar, we have company!" He said as Oscar stopped humping the prostitute. They were both surprised to see Snyder walk into the room, like a landlord coming to collect the rent. Oscar's eyes damn near popped out of their sockets at the sight of his past ally. The woman being paid for his services made no move to cover her exposed breasts, as opposed to the other who hid as much as she could beneath Morris.
"Jesus, Snyder! If ya wanted ta watch all ya had ta do was ask!"
"There's no need to be startled, Oscar. I'm just here on a little business."
"Well, can da business wait? Me and Oscar were kinda busy here."
Snyder smirked at the horny cads as he took a seat in a dilapidated chair. "Don't worry, fellows. I'm not here to cut in on your action. I'm just here to gather a little information from you two. It involves the whereabouts of Francis Sullivan, otherwise known as Jack Kelly."
Morris' erection went down at the mere mention of the name. Oscar ran a hand through his greasy hair, exhaling liberally. They could have thrown Snyder out by the collar for interrupting a perfectly good fuck to discuss the location of a handsome scoundrel that put them and their uncle out of the newspaper business.
"Alright, Snyder. I'll tell ya what I know. Last time I checked he lived in da Manhattan area doing God knows what, and is burning up a sweat fucking some dame for all I know."
"You've seen him around, you have?"
"Not for a while now. I used ta see him coming out of Brady's Bar with a woman on his arm. Usually some whore he met there for some bedroom fun."
Snyder smiled evilly, hoping that he was getting closer to capturing his prey with the report he had just received.
"Any idea where he lives, specifically? An apartment? A brownstone?"
Both nodded their heads no. Snyder looked at both cads. Casually, he put his hand in his left coat pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. Holding it up between his index and middle fingers, he then dropped the money onto the foot of Morris' bed.
"I think that the incentive speaks for itself if either of you is able to obtain Kelly's current location."
Morris' eyes widened greatly as did Oscar's. Greasing the palms of two dregs would definitely increase Snyder's chances of finding Jack he thought. Unhurriedly, he rose from the chair. He tipped his hat to both the guys and the women. He sauntered out of the room, with Banner and Wainwright following suit. Oscar exhaled when they closed the door behind them. Morris smiled at his brother, signifying to him that they had just helped a former collaborator get one step closer to catching the enemy.
"'Bout damn time! I didn't spend all dis money on dese two sluts just ta have Snyder come in and interrupt our flow."
Oscar smiled at Morris before going back to their business of getting off on the women who were patiently waiting beneath them.
~
On the ranch, Jack was going over with Señor Sandoval the plans for the house, stables, and fencing arrangements for the ranch. Sandoval had provided generously his help towards helping Jack build his ranch. He felt truly indebted to Jack for saving his daughter's life; therefore, he provided every amenity that Jack asked for. Sandoval put Jack in touch with the best ranch builder that he knew. Alejandro Gonzalez, a very handsome and respectable designer, arranged a meeting with Jack for the plans of their future estate.
Apollonia also had a hand in the activities. She took the initiative to decorate the house that the two of them decided to call home. It was a stately villa of typical Spanish design with fancy wrought-iron railings, reminiscent of some of the structural designs she grew up around in New Orleans. It was once occupied by a wealthy businessman who moved back to Mexico and Sandoval took it upon himself to play guardian to the abandoned house. Since it was available for occupancy, Sandoval offered it to Jack and Apollonia. They immediately fell in love with the property. They decided to call their home Belvedere, which in Italian means "beautiful view." She found it appropriate to name their ranch such, with the mountains standing right behind their house, almost like a protective wall guarding the new hacienda and the blue sky that hovered above them like a layer of paint coloring the clear canvas of a breathtaking atmosphere.
She constantly thumbed through catalogs trying to come to a decision on what furniture they should have, which rugs should cover the floors, what painting they should hang on the walls. Since she grew up in a higher socio- economic class than Jack and had an eye for such luxuries, he let her make all of the decisions of what should and shouldn't dwell in their home. Jack, being a man, did not necessarily take an interest in beautifying their house. He would have been happy with four walls and a roof over his head. But being in a relationship, he knew that women always had the upper hand in matters of domestic bliss. Besides, he trusted Apollonia's taste.
Gonzalez discussed in heavy detail what the stables would look like and where they should be located. Jack whipped out his old copy of Western Jim comic book and showed the draftsman an illustration of what he wanted the stables to look like. Gonzalez studied the picture carefully. After a few minutes of mental debate, he turned to Jack.
"Señor Kelly, sometimes I wonder if you are meant to be a vaquero or a shrewd businessman." He laughingly said with his heavy accent. Jack just smiled at him. He never fancied himself as a sharp capitalist. That was all different now. He was now a hacendado, an owner of a substantial estate. If only his friends could see him now.
They quickly got down to the transaction of having lumber brought in from town with the help of numerous men and boys to assist in transferring the logs of wood to Jack's property.
"Enrique, vamos! Poco Pronto!" Jack heard a man yell to his adolescent son who was sitting on the sidewalk chewing on some beef jerky. He quickly got up and ran to the scene of men loading the wagons to the hilt. As soon as they were filled, they drivers whipped their horses to transport the goods all the way to Belvedere. The activities went on for hours on end, with everyone taking occasional breaks.
Around six o'clock, Jack and Gonzalez decided to wrap up everything and pick up from where they left off the next day. Exhausted was the word of the day by this time. Jack felt that he accomplished almost as much in a day as he did in a lifetime. This kind of strenuous work seemed worth it. He got a greater high off of completing his ranch than from printing a newspaper. He felt that it was because he was working with his own two hands to carry out his dream.
He slept soundly and peacefully once he got back to the hotel. Tonight the room was exceptionally cold. Apollonia kept muttering about her discomfort, punching her pillow noisily, sighing. Finally, drowsily and irritated, Jack woke up.
"What's da matter, baby?"
"I can't sleep. It's too cold."
"Well, I know a good way to keep you warm." He said smiling salaciously as he turned over to his side to face her, running his hand up and down her leg. Apollonia gave a him smirk.
"Can't you keep that thing in your pants for five minutes?" She asked rhetorically.
"With a woman like you at my side? Nevah!" He said, his strong Manhattan accent clearly evident in his speech. Needless to say, Apollonia wasn't going to get much sleep that night anyway.
~
In the middle of this New York night, much had been accomplished. Businesses closed, bars were open late, brothels were busy, and thieves were running through the hours of darkness continuously committing crimes. On the Brooklyn Bridge, corruption was invading its scene.
"Alright, you filthy excuse for human existence, we are not going to play with you much longer. Don't make us do something we'll regret." Stated Banner, who was in no mood to interrogate anybody forever. He wanted to get the information out as quickly as possible.
"Listen to me you half-human, frizzy-haired piece of shit. You are not going to get away with protecting your friend this time around. You fucked up once by inadvertently identifying your lawbreaking pal, but now you are going to gladly give me the whereabouts of Mr. Sullivan or, as you filthy tribes of the New York underworld like to call him, Jack Kelly."
The two roughnecks held Crutchy tight by his ankles, dangling him over the bridge the entire time. Crutchy, screaming and crying, pleaded helplessly for the criminals to let him go unharmed. They would not listen. He saw the darkness of the river right below him. It didn't even seem like water, until he saw his crutch floating in the waves of the watercourse.
"Please, please, Mr. Snyder. I never meant anything I ever said to ya before. Dat comment I made about da rats was just a joke. Can't ya take a joke? Oh, God, Mr. Snyder, please, please let me go .... PLEASE!!!!!!!!"
"That's just like a cripple; always trying to use their pitiful pleas to gain sympathy. Do you think anybody's going to miss a half-witted, orphanage mentoring gimp that can't walk? You probably can't even piss straight, you physically-challenged, limp dick freak." He menacingly said as he leaned in toward Crutchy, whose tears were streaming down his forehead as he found it quite hard to breathe being suspended upside down.
Wainwright and Banner stood nearby, with Wainwright smoking a cigarette. He looked on lightly smiling at Snyder harassing a poor, disabled man just to gather a little information on the current whereabouts of a past juvenile delinquent.
"I'm going to ask this one more time. Where's Sullivan?"
"Mr. Snyder, I swear I don't know where he is. He lived on the Lower East Side in some apartment building. He would come to da orphanage to visit sometimes, and he would go to da brothels on da edge of town. Dat's all I know!"
"That's all?"
"DAT'S ALL, I SWEAR!" Crutchy screamed.
"Come on, Snyder. Obviously the gimp doesn't know anything about where your little friend is. Let's just go." Wainwright said as he flicked ash from his cigarette before taking another drag.
The men who held him looked over to Snyder as he nodded to them. Walking to the carriage, Wainwright smirked at Snyder for his evil exploits. The other men entered the carriage right after him. Snyder looked back at the two men who were still holding Crutchy by his legs.
"Oh, by the way, the rats and I have very much in common." On that note, Snyder was met with the screeching sound of a thin, handicapped man plunging to his death.
