Chapter Two: Scenes From An Italian Life (Racetrack)

Ever get the feeling that you're being watched? I do. And whenever I get that feeling I know that our favorite Brooklyn leader has come to pay us a little visit. Something he does more often in the last month than he ever did before. Gee, I wonder why. . .

He hates me. Wanna know how I know? Because whenever I'm around him he stares daggers right into my body. And I think given the chance he might try to put a real one in. What did I do to deserve all this hatred you ask? One small thing. I fell in love with the same guy as him.

I didn't mean too, honestly. You can't help who you fall for. And yet, he makes it seem like it's a sin for me to even THINK about loving Jack. Well, if that's the case than he's a sinner too. Besides, he's got no one to blame but himself. He's the one that drove Jack away. Who couldn't bring himself to allow a "weakness" like love to tear him down. Even if he felt it with every fiber of his being.

Back then I knew something was going on between them. I saw the body language (or lack of therefore) and knew something was up with them. It was so painfully obvious. But I never said anything because I couldn't be a hundred percent sure. Until I saw them.

I'd out stayed my welcome at the races and was forced to walk home in the nighttime. There wasn't anyone else around on the streets that I could see and had I not heard the moaning I probably would've passed by them without a second thought. However, being the curious boy I am, I went to investigate.

Stupid. Very stupid.

I stayed locked in the shadows so I wouldn't be seen. And as I went deeper into the alley the moaning just got louder. Finally I saw two figures pressed up against the side of a building. They were also in quite the sexual position. (If you can imagine) The taller one had the other pinned beneath him with one hand up against the side wall to keep from crushing the smaller one. I couldn't see the other hand so I can only imagine what that one was doing. I couldn't make out either faces, since they seemed to be attached there. Only when the smaller one threw his head back was I able to see that it was Spot. He was panting (Yes, I know. I was surprised too) and clawing at the back of the still unknown person.

"Oh fuck, Jack!" He moaned loud enough that I was sure his boys back in Brooklyn couldn't heard him. But it was the name that he said that startled me into some kind of reality. Sure, even if I had suspected it was true, that didn't prepare me for actually seeing it. And let me tell you, after the realization sunk in I got the hell out of there. I ran all the way back to the lodging house.

When Jack came strolling in an hour later I acted as if I didn't know, but I couldn't quite bring myself to look him in the eye. The memory of what I'd seen scorched into my mind was enough to keep me up the rest of the night. And every day after that I pretended I had no idea where Jack left too every night. I just sat there shuffling and dealing the cards as the others gossiped and guessed. All I could think was how he was out in some alley or something, screwing Spot senseless. And for some reason that made my stomach drop enough to feel the very beginnings of jealousy working it's way through my whole body.

He didn't need to tell me what happened. I knew the moment I walked into the bunkhouse and saw him sitting there crying. No one else was around. I took this as my chance to confront him and if possible help a little.

"What's wrong Jack?" I asked (although as I said I pretty much already knew) walking over to him. He tensed up at first but when he realized it was only me he slouched over again, but wiped his eyes furiously. People like us don't cry. At least, not in front of anyone else.

"It's nuthin Race. Don worry bout it," He said, his voice already back to normal. Like he hadn't cried at all. Jack's pretty good at hiding his emotions when he needs too.

"Aw, come on. Youse can tell me. Jack Kelly don' cry without a damn good reason," I commented, lighting up a cigarette and offering him one as well.

He took it gratefully but didn't ask for a light, he just put it between his lips and bit on the end a little, getting the nicotine any way possible. He sighed heavily and turned to face me. My breath caught in my throat as I gazed into his darker than night eyes which were still rimmed in red. The outlines of his forgotten tears still streaking his face, visible enough to see if you were sitting as close to him as I was. He looked horrible. And yet, in some weird way, beautiful.

"Hows you know I was cryin at all?" He asked, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

"I'm not dumb. And I ain't deaf. Youse know dat," I said, narrowing my eyes at him. He rolled his and turned his eyes back to the window he had been staring out of before I came in.

"Yeah, Yeah," he chuckled and threw the basically unused cigarette out the window near us. I bit my lip then gathered the courage I needed to ask him the question that had been burning on my tongue since I saw him.

"So. . . did, uh, Spot break up wit 'chu?" I asked softly.

He snapped his head around to look at me in utter confusion and shock. He didn't say anything at first and I knew exactly what he was thinking so I answered for him.

"I just know alright? Let's not get inta how I'se do," I didn't particularly want to tell him what I had seen that night, and thankfully he didn't pry. Maybe he was as embarrassed as I felt. He laughed again though this time it was hallow and bitter.

"Naw. . . I broke up wit 'im," He said to my surprise.

"Wanna talk about it?" I asked, supplying a line to make sure no strange silences lapsed between us.

He raised an eyebrow at me and stole the cigarette out of my mouth sucking down the smoke himself. He let it out in a real thin line and nodded with only the slightest bit of movement with his head. I just waited, as patiently as a gambler can, for him to began talking.

"One whole year. Dat's how long we'd been sneaking around and such. I'se got sick of it, sick of him. Well, not sick of 'im but rather da way 'e was. Ya know how his eyes are dat icy blue color?" He asked looking in my direction but not really at me. I nodded and he did too.

"Well, da rest of 'im is jist as cold."

He didn't say anything for a few moments, and he looked like he was thinking about some things that had probably happened between the two of them. Some things I figured I'd be better off not knowing about. He shook his head briefly and took another drag off the short white stick in his hands.

"Did you love 'im?" I asked, also not turning to look at him. I did, however, see him frown slightly from beneath my eyelids as I gazed from the corner of my eye.

"No," He stated firmly. "I still do."

"Den why'd ya throw 'im away?"

"I didn' throw 'im away. 'E was never really 'dere anyways. It was all about da sex ta 'im. Jist some. . . fun," He added bitterly, his eyes clouding over in anguish and hostility.

"But if youse love 'im. . ."

"You don' get it. I'm not as strong as everyone thinks I am Race. Youse don' know what's it like ta fall in love wit someone who is as cold as da river water in winter or has as many emotions as da Bridge dat separates our territories," He explained a somewhat wistful look on his eighteen year old face.

I remained silent. What could you possibly say too that? He was right, I didn't know. I wasn't the one stupid enough to fall in love with the likes of Spot Conlon. (Not that I'd ever say that too his face) And as for the way he described Spot. . . he was probably right about all of it. Spot never let anyone touch him, except Jack, and for a long time now he hadn't even allowed that. Most of the time he just looked at Jack in complete contempt, like he was a dumb child. Maybe Spot knew Jack loved him and thought, just like me, that that was pretty stupid in itself.

"Do yerself a favor Race, don' eveah fall in love," He said breaking my thoughts and finishing off my cigarette with one last inhale.

"I ain't in the mood ta do myself no favors," I grunted and he laughed, a genuine laugh, at what he figured was my sarcastic humor shining through. Even if the comment hadn't been said to make fun of the situation or anything.

"Yer something else Race. Outta dis woild," He said between laughs and slapped him on the back. He stood up then and smiled down at me. "Come on Racey, dere's gotta be some sort of trouble wese could be scarin up."

I smiled in return and followed him out of the stuffy bunkhouse. Jack has this captivating charisma about him that makes everyone like him. Seriously, I ain't joking. (I even saw Oscar Delancy smirk at something he said once) He can capture the attention of any living person and can keep it. People are naturally drawn to him, and it's not just because of his youthful good looks and charm. He has this. . . presence when he walks in anywhere. He's just as respected as Spot is, only people are more quiet about their respect for him then they are for Spot. Jack doesn't need all that showing off, (although he can be as cocky as anyone) he's content just listening to stories one of the guys has to tell over a beer at Tibby's. And he's just intimidating enough that people know not to mess with him too much.

I can't tell you when I first fell in love with Jack. Because, quite frankly, even I don't know. It could have been far before any of this mess or it could be the exact moment I realized it. I can't be positive about that. I mean, I always looked up to him and he's been my best friend since he found me and brought me to the lodging house, but somewhere in-between the feelings changed.

We were in Tibby's at the time. Well, actually we were leaving, but that wasn't the point. The point was we were walking out together and laughing about some stupid comment Mush had made earlier and I noticed how much I liked his laugh. Jack doesn't smile, or laugh, a whole a lot. Never did really. But he's got a nice laugh. Nice smile too, and surprisingly white teeth for a poor street kid. I could on and on about his smile and/or teeth.

And if I could go on about those, just think about how long I could talk about his eyes and face. Back before Jack was the leader, when Jinx ruled Manhattan and I had barely hit puberty, they used to call him 'pretty boy' just to get on his nerves. But if you think about it, he really is a pretty boy, or at least he used to be. Now he's more like a beautiful man or something.

Boy, have I got a way with words huh? I ramble a lot when I'm on the subject of Jack, so bare with me on this. Back to the original topic.

We were leaving Tibby's and walking about towards the lodging house. It was one of those lazy days ya know? We had sold our papers early enough to get some good quality 'do whatever the hell you please' time in the afternoon, so we were lounging wherever we felt fit too.

"Race," He said slinging a arm around my shoulders, "Happy birthday."

I looked up at him in question. It wasn't my birthday, I knew it and he knew it. So obviously something was being cooked up in that complicated mind of his and since I seemed to be the subject of it I wasn't sure if I liked what might happen. But he was grinning like ghost. (Not that I've ever seen a ghost) So, I let him lead me to the bunkhouse and over to his bunk, but in caution. You could never really tell with Jack.

He handed me a box which was hidden inside a paper bag. I eyed it (and him) suspiciously.

"You know it ain't me birthday right?" I asked him, as I kept the box in my hands.

He shrugged but didn't say anything just sat down on the bunk. I was the one with the present and yet he was the one who looked like a child on Christmas. I swear, sometimes I wonder how I understand him at all.

I took the box out of the bag and turned it over when I saw it was upside down. There was some rolling from inside the box and I read the label when it was in view. Then, I am happy to report, I did not faint. It was a small box with 100% Havana Cigars scrawled on the top. It said there was half a dozen in the box, and you could smell them already. I love the smell of cigars, especially new ones. But I still had the decency to look surprised, Havana cigars were imported and that meant money. Money that Jack didn't have.

"Jack. . . how's youse get dese?" I asked in open mouthed shock. He laughed at the expression on my face.

"Bought 'em," He said mysteriously.

"Obviously. But how? Dese is a lot a money Jack!" I exclaimed, peering down at the package then back at my friend.

"Normally, yeah. But dey was on sale. It was only a buck fifty," He said shrugging as if the money was nothing.

"A buck fifty! Jack I can' take dese! I mean -

He cut me off mid sentence. "Youse are takin dem. It was left over from me Santa Fe money. An' since I ain't needin dat no more. . . besides, when is dis opportunity gonna come around again?"

I shut my mouth and looked back down at the small yellow and blue box in wonder. He had gotten this for me. Without a second thought. I looked up at him (as I was now sitting on the bunk across from his) and watched his eyes as they watched me. His eyes are kind of hard to tell as far as color goes. Some days they look brown to me, other times green, and once even blue. But right then they were brown. This deep fudge color that about made me drown. His smile was reaching his eyes (for the first time in what seemed like forever) making them light up like the lights in Medda's after dark. And I'm not sure what I was thinking at the time, but I remember flinging my arms around his neck and hugging him because I couldn't find the words 'thank you' in my vocabulary.

He hugged me back and that's when I fell. Him holding me, no matter how brief of time, just seemed right to my body and mind. I'll admit it scared the hell out of me. I mean, Jack was a guy. And so was I. But then again, Spot had been too and Jack loved him once upon a time, so I figured there might be some shred of hope for me as well.

At least that's what I hoped.

* * *

I have horrible nightmares. Nightmares that bring back my memories from years and events passed, from before I came to where I am now. From before Jack and Bonus (another one of the past Manhattan boys) found me huddled on the edge of a nasty damp alleyway half starved and looking five years younger then my actual eleven years. Memories of my parents and my brother before they were killed in the fire. They haunt me all the time. Whenever I wake up from the dreams I try to collect myself, but if I can't calm down right away I leave the bunks and go up on the roof to sweat it out.

That night I had one of the worst nightmares ever. I was walking through the apartment building we used to live in (my family and I) and I walked right into them. They were like these zombies or something, all flesh eaten and scarred. Blood matted at their features and bones sticking out. And they were yelling at me. Telling me it was my fault because I had knocked over the lamp. That I was a murderer who killed them. It scared me so much I went straight for the night air and roof without a second thought.

"You okay Race?" A voice asked me. I knew it was Jack, but I didn't turn to look at him. I hoped my ignoring him would send the right impression and he would leave me alone. I didn't want him seeing my like this. But, stubborn and stupid are his middle names, and when I didn't answer he crawled up the fire escape and over to where I was standing.

"Don' youse know when you ain't wanted?" I growled at him. He didn't say anything, just shook his head and leaned down next to where I was leaning.

"What about dem scares you enough that youse gotta get out of dare?" He finally asked. I knew he meant the nightmares. But it was beyond me how he knew about them in the first place. I'm a pretty good actor most of the time.

"Dare nuthin Jack. Jist go back ta bed," I mumbled using one last ditch effort to get him to leave.

"Uh-uh. You is gonna stand dare and tell me what is goin on in dat head of yers," He said forcefully. Another thing about Jack is that he will rarely take 'no' for an answer.

"Dare jist dreams about me family. Dat's all," I answered.

"Dreams don' make youse toss and turn all night like youse in agony Race," He pointed out softly. I blinked that he knew me that well but nodded.

"So, what about yer family. You ain't never told me what 'appened ta dem," He began casually, what in reality was a plea for me to talk to me.

"Dey died. What's ta know."

"Race don' do dis. I'm yer friend right? An' if I mean anyt'ing to ya you'll tell me what's eatin at ya."

'If only you know how much you do mean to me.' I shook that thought out of my head and started in on the story of my pre-newsie life with a sigh. I covered almost every detail of some events, of their personalities and of that last night. I got so into telling him that I didn't realize I was crying til the tears were rolling down my face and I couldn't stop them, so I tried brushing them away, but he stopped me.

"It's alright, youse saw me cry, now I'll see you." His voice was steady and he looked down at me, before pulling my sob racked body to his in a comforting embrace. One meant to try an calm me down.

I sat there in his lap and cried like the child I knew I still was, but would never allow myself to be. He was rubbing small circles in my back and whispering soothing words into my ear as his other hand was running through my hair. We stayed like that for a little while until my sobs quietly to dry, shuddery breaths. I still clung to him, holding fists full of his sleeping clothes. He leaned out of the embrace just a little to look at me and make sure I was okay. I sniffled a little, trying to think of something to say.

"Thanks."

"Don' mention it."

"Youse betteah not either. Or I'se 'ill tell everyone about you and Spot," I countered, I felt him laugh genuinely at my small threat because he knew I had no intention of ever saying a word about Spot to the other boys. And I knew that he'd never tell them I was crying like baby on his shoulder (or chest I guess) tonight. It was like an unspoken rule between us.

"Uh Jack?"

"Yeah?"

"You can let go of me now."

He appeared to think of this for a few moments before shaking his head and actually pulling me a little closer. "Nah. . . I kinda like how dis feels."

"Oh. Okay."

He smirked at me lack of speech and looked down at me. I couldn't have had a coherent thought then if I tried too. All I could see was his eyes, his hair, his lips. . . and the next thing I know I'm kissing him like it was something totally natural for me to do. And not wrong or disgusting or anything. It was just Jack and me. And he was actually kissing me back with full vengeance. He lowered his one hand to where the other was clasping them together behind my back and pulling me full against him. I kept my hands in his hair, letting my mouth pour out all of the emotions I was feeling.

Their was liquid fire in my stomach and the cool night air might as well have been the midsummer sun as far as I was concerned. He tasted exactly how I imagined, fresh and slightly sweet, it was totally intoxicating. I couldn't get close enough to him or taste him quite enough and his small moans from deep in his throat only ignited that fire further. If he hadn't be able to pull away then god only knows what would've happened.

"Wow. . ." He breathed, panting slightly. His lips were moist and swollen as well as his face being flushed from the combination of heat and cool air around us. The look suited him and I wondered what he'd look like in an after glow if he looked his good after a few kisses.

"Yeah. . ." I replied my hands resting on his shoulders, our noses were almost touching and I could feel his breath on my face.

He shifted under me uncomfortably and muttered a small curse before looking at me again. "Youse should, uh, probably get up now," He said. I looked at him a bit strangely until I felt exactly why I was suppose to be moving. Immediately I stood, not noticing my own whimper at the lack of body heat I had now. Jack wasn't the only one with a slight problem though. And we just stayed in our spots on the roof. Catching our breath and thinking over what had just occurred.

"Um. . .Jack, I didn't mean too, well, I mean -

"Race it's alright. I was kind of kissing you back if you remember right," He said smirking again. The colors were coming back to his face and he stood from the ground where he had sunk minutes earlier.

"Yeah, but youse ain't mad or nuthin?" I asked. My brain was working over time, thoughts bouncing off walls inside there that I didn't even know I had.

"Should I be? Do ya regret it er somethin?" He countered and looked at me for a reaction. From his blank expression I couldn't even began to think about what he was thinking or how he wanted me to answer, so I went with the truthful approach.

"No. I'se been wantin ta do dat fer awhile."

He nodded. "Good. Cause I'se don regret it either."

I smiled at him, a gesture he reciprocated. We didn't say anything else for what seemed like hours and probably was because when Jack finally broke the silence the sun was just starting to peek out from behind the tallest buildings in the city.

"Wese bettah be getting back to our bunks before people start whispering," He motioned for me to follow him and I chatted animatedly, occasionally making him laugh, all the way down the fire escape. I get rather chatty when I'm in an exceptionally good mood. I was about to duck back into the window which led to the bunks but Jack pulled me over to the side and kissed me again, this wasn't hurried though, just slow like we had all the time and space to our own.

"Sorry," He murmured when he broke from me again.

"Don' be sorry. Youse can do dat anytime ya's want," I said sighing. He smiled one last time then went through the window with me following him like a lovesick puppy.

Yes, I know, I'm pathetic. You've had yer laugh, now get over it.

* * *

I'm not sure how Spot found out, or when he did, but I remember him glaring at me so hard one day that the whole world could've been set on fire from his eyes. I think he was trying to make me explode or something. Which at the time didn't make sense too me. Jack had told me all about his and Spot's relationship and how he had left eventually because Spot didn't love him and never would. So why Spot suddenly hated me was beyond my rational thought.

Jack was wrong. Spot did love him, I found that out by just watching the small Brooklyn leader. By seeing the look in his eyes and the soft barely visible pleading in his voice whenever he spoke to Jack, though Kelly somehow was able to always remain indifferent. And definitely by the death glares he's sent me of the last month. I get tapped in his hard stares and the only way I can escape is if I look away, but it's hard to do that.

If you knew Spot you'd understand that.

I wasn't scared of myself mind you, I was Jack's friend above all else and Spot wouldn't hurt me because of that very reason, but what I was scared of was that Jack would just look at Spot and have his own blinds lifted. That he would finally notice that Spot did, indeed, love him. That he was wrong. And then I figured he'd go back to Spot because after all he loved Spot right? Not me. No matter what I felt for him.

"He knows ya know," He said to me one night as he held me tightly. I froze slightly as his mentioning this. Maybe this was where everything ended for me.

"I know. He, uh, doesn't like me too much no more," I replied cautiously.

"I noticed."

I felt that I owed Jack to tell him. Tell him that Spot loved him back the way he had wanted him too for over a year. Even if he broke out in smiles, thanked me and dashed for Brooklyn without a backward glance. I owed him my life, and as my best friend I owed him that.

"He loves you. I don' know if youse noticed dat or not. But I did. An' I'se 'ill understand if youse wanna go back ta 'im ya know? Because youse love 'im an'-

"Loved him. Loved. Ya know, as in past tense. An' know I hadn't noticed it," He said cutting me off mid rambling.

"Ya sure? Because like I'se said I'se 'ill understand if youse -

"Race, shut up fer a minute would ya?" He said and turned me around to face him so he was talking directing to me. "I don' care if Spot is in love wit me. I don'. Sure a few months ago if youse 'ad told me dat I would've crawled on me hands and knees across dat bridge to go ta him. But ya see, I'se 'ave kinda changed over dis time. I ain't gonna leave ya Race. My heart's 'ere in Manhattan, it left Brooklyn a while ago."

I could feel the tears stinging my eyes and I quickly swallowed them before they had a chance to reach the surface. I answered his little heart warming speech with the only thing that I could think.

"I love you."

The smile he gave me was reward enough for me. It was bright enough to light up the semi-dark room we were sitting in. He pulled me closer to him and rested his hands on my hips gently.

"I love you too."

He kissed me then, and if I were to describe the rest of the night to you, some would probably have their eyes fall out of their heads. Just know that I found out why Spot was so vocal why I saw them (I was the same way) and that I woke up the next morning with Jack's arms wrapped around me and our faces about four inches from each other. I love watching him sleep. He doesn't look like the leader Jack Kelly then, he just looks like a simple teenage boy. The look suits him.

Oh, and the whole after glow thing I was wondering about earlier? I could definitely get used to that.

Definitely.

* * *

A/N: I honestly didn't think my Race muse would talk that much, I apologize for that. But I want to thank a couple people first.

Thistle: Thank bunches for the review, Jack/Spot is normally my fave too, but my friend has kind of poisoned my mind for the time being. I also wanna express how much I enjoy YOUR stories. You're excellent writer and the positive review from you means a lot to me.

anUNDERCOVERnewsie: You follow me wherever I go!!! Just kidding, you're a faithful reader and I thank you for it. And of course I'm updating, why wouldn't I? Oh, and that sequel for 'Leaving You Behind' I'm almost done with the first chapter to look out for that.