HEY ALL!!! I'm back.I know it took me forever to update, but here is 1
update! "I don't know" will be updated sometime soon.I've gotten through
half of the chapter already! The wrong way to run.well..let's just say I
need to doctor it up a tad bit b4 I put anymore up! Hell is Waiting is
coming soon too! Don't is halfway done! Hehe.so read review and enjoy this
one! I think you'll find it interesting.the plot thickens.dun dun dun!
Much love to Chalyce! Go read her stories.they are great!
Anna
Chapter 2
"Cally, this is ridiculous!"
Christine's yell traveled through Cally Plenar's room in very accusing and uninviting tones. Cally looked up from her vanity where she had been happily applying slight rouge to her cheeks. It had little effect on her already astonishing features, but it was not the effect that had drawn her to it. It had been the absolute pleasure of finally being of age in the Plenar household. This coming of age had been everything she had awaited for the first fifteen years of her life. Finally, on her sixteenth birthday, her father had finally passed on the age old trust and reliance that allowed her to do such things as stay up all the way through the parties, to wear slight makeup, and even to begin her courting. She smiled happily again, quite forgetting Christine's existence for a moment (something she enjoyed practicing quite often).
"Oh, Cally, would you look at me! You're making me fret so!"
Cally finally raised her gaze, several russet, curled pieces of hair falling about her face with the movement, and saw the form of her plain sister in the doorway. Christine looked certainly frightful! Her hair was only pulled up halfway, the rest of it hanging in very odd places, and she was adorned in only her undershirt and petticoats.
"Christine, what is it? You can't just come running in my room like this when I'm getting ready! I don't do that to you, and-"
"Don't tell me what to do!" was Christine's shrieked order. "And anyway, I just found my pink dress, Cally. Don't give me that look, I know you wore it-"
"Did not!" Cally yelled, standing up to give a better sense of defense that her short frame could not offer. The light green dress she wore fell onto the floor in beautiful jade swells.
"It's stained, Cally! You stained it and I want to wear it tonight!" Christine hissed, the fury becoming visible throughout her face in red splotches.
Cally rolled her eyes, unspeakably miffed.
"I don't know what you were drinking the last party, Christine, but if I remember correctly, you stained it with some sauce from dinner because you wore it!"
The noise that escaped Christine's lips sounded quite like some dying animal's last wishes.
"Mark my words! One day I'll catch you, Cally Plenar!" she shouted.
Snorting, Cally replied, "I wouldn't wear your dresses anyway. You have no taste."
The two sisters would have squawked until they had no breath, had not their mother walked into Cally's room, wondering what the fuss was about. Of course, the blame was to be put on Cally, for she was the youngest and the most mischievous. Cally finally lifted her hands up in despair:
"Mama! I did not wear her dress! It wouldn't fit me anyway and I don't like the color!"
"Enough," her mother said shortly to Cally, then, gently touching Christine's arm, said smoothly, "Christine, finish dressing. Both of you need to be down in twenty minutes."
As Christine left the room in a huff, Cally turned to her mother, excitement in her eyes.
"Momma, are Caroline and Marilyn coming tonight?" Cally whispered, clasping her mother's beautiful pale hands in her own.
Angelle Plenar stared at her youngest daughter, Cally's excitement making her smile as well.
"Oh, dear, how could either of them miss it? It's the biggest party of the year!"
The southern drawl was more than convincing.
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
The sordid condition of the bar Cal sat at, late into the night was only one of the many things that gave her a look of ill humor. Her eyes, usually green and lively, stared dully in front of her, eyebrows furrowed in spite and a slight case of wonder. Her mouth was turned as far down as it possibly could be, the frown so obvious a person a mile away could have suspected foulness from it.
A girl sat next to Cal, staring at the squalor in her partner's position. The girl's fiery, straight red hair traveled all the way down her back, in a long thick line. Her very risqué attire would cause any man to stare, but she paid that little mind. Her brown eyes were wide with the lack of ability to compose herself against Cal's disgust. This was her friend and something was irking her deeply.
"Oh, Cal, I hate it when you look so! Something terrible has happened, hasn't it?"
It seemed as if Cal had not heard the girl, for her eyes remained fixedly staring at the drink upon the table in front of her. The girl obtained an anxious look on her already descriptive features when Cal did not respond.
"Cal-"
"I heard you, Lucille. I always hear you. It's damn hard not to."
Lucille stared shocked for a moment, but only a moment. This was Cal's usual speech. It was her as always, blunt shocking and coarse tone that she used with everyone she met. Lucille just happened to be one that never let it get to her. For some reason she imagined Cal to have some compassion, some humanistic quality that would make her a wonderful person, but she had yet to find it.
Cal was as hard as stone and she wasn't cracking anytime soon.
"Cal, what's wrong?"
Slowly but surely, Cal removed herself from the position she had been stationed in for several hours now at the table in the only bar she knew for refuge. She turned her head several times, hearing the delightful crack of unused muscles. She rolled her shoulders back, immediately enjoying the restoration of her blood flow. Then she took off the cap that had been stationed on her head for nearly 3 days, and pushed back her unruly hair.
She had not feigned to take off the cap after she had left the Brooklyn docks three days ago. She seemed slightly attached to the cap Spot had given her a year ago. She had only used it as an instrument to free herself from the blasted hair that had haunted her being since she was old enough to realize it. For the three days that she had entered this bar at 7:00 sharp, she had felt the immediate regret with her decision to leave Brooklyn. Although her days there had been filled with secrets and late night wanderings through the city, she still looked upon them fondly. Spot had been a hard leader, yet still fair and he had never asked questions until that day.
That's just it, Cally, she reprimanded silently. The questions meant it was time to go. She knew that from long ago. Whenever she was questioned it was time to leave, no questions asked.
She laughed slightly at the irony of it all. The youngest daughter and the most wanted. Oh, how sweet it all turned out.
She was suddenly jerked back to reality by Lucille's clearing throat exercises.
"I hear you," Cal said disgustedly. "What is it you want?"
"God, Cal! I want to know what's wrong? You never usually come into this bar every day. I usually see you once a week if that. Newsie life takes up all that time-"
"Well, there you go. I'm not a newsie anymore. That should answer everything."
The silence that followed was partly from Lucille's shock and partly from Cal's unsociable tendencies of the evening.
"Not exactly," Lucille said after the pause had made a sufficient impression upon Cal.
Cal sighed, an excruciating sound that made Lucille look in great wonder.
Some may wonder why Lucille put herself through the jaded comments and wistful, malignant replies Cal offered to her. It was a very unfeasible thing that only Lucille understood completely. Sometimes even Cal wondered why this girl still sat beside her, worrying and fretting over her as if she actually cared.
However, Lucille was deeply connected to this girl, not because she acted sweet and treated her like a decent friend, but because, at one point Cal had been the only arm there was to help lift her up and put her back on her feet. Cal had stood by her through thick and thin throughout the three years they had known each other. She even didn't mind being seen with Lucille in public, never mind the scandalous job she now possessed.
Cal had a charming heart, deep down through too many struggles to be compromised and Lucille knew this (though not at all about the struggles she was facing) and still believed in her. Cal still didn't seem to realize how fortunate she was to have even a handful of close people who truly cared for her. Some would not show their faces until much later.
"Cal," Lucille gently prodded her with her finger, again making Cal wake up from her senseless daydreaming. No money.no place to stay.nothing to do.
"What?"
The sharp reply was quietly uttered though forcefulness was still perceived.
"Why aren't you with the newsies still? You said you loved it there!"
Oh, how much Lucille loved to display emotion when there ought be none! Cal rolled her eyes only finding sense enough to mutter,
"Correction, I said I liked being with the newsies. And to the part of why I'm not." Cal drifted off trying to find words to fit her meaning shortly and sweetly. "Basically, they pried too much for my liking, and I disrespected Spot Conlon enough to make him demote me. So, seeing the situation, I left."
Lucille was shocked into silence. It was so unexpected. It almost seemed insane, but then again, it was Cal who this was happening to.
Cal seemed to have a very bleak background from what Lucille understood (and that was very little.) Cal never brought up her past, and Lucille had upon occasion dared to ask, but she never seemed to find a response. Every once in a while though, she had let off little tadbits that made Lucille start. The name "Caroline" had escaped her lips on more than one occasion and the name "Christine". It was all so strange.
If only Lucille had known that Cal was only trying to protect her.
"Cal, what are you going to do about money?" Lucille asked softly after another several moments of silence, filled with her deep and worried stare, and Cal's swirling her finger in her drink.
Cal looked up from her prior activity. "I don't know."
"Cal, I think you should go back to the newsies. That was the best job you've ever had and almost respectable too." A pause emitted as each realized the condition of Lucille's clothing. "I'm sure if you apologize, they'd take you back."
"No, I promise you, they wouldn't," Cal stated in a low tone. Her eyes became an even darker shade of green and her frown became even more obtrusive, as if someone had taken her mouth and pulled it down harshly.
It perhaps would have been a sharp-witted idea for either girl to have noticed the strange man that walked into the musty, dark restaurant at that moment. He was nicely dressed, with expensive looking gray pants and a tie (A definite sign of formality). However, his face was blockaded with blackness for a very significant looking hat rested upon his head.
Nevertheless, the girls did just the opposite and chose not to notice the newcomer, even though his searching eyes were knowingly noticing every inch of them.
Surprisingly though, the next person who made their presence known in the restaurant was noticed much more fluently. As he walked through the door, Lucille gasped and Cal turned and looked on with deep disgust and agitation. Jack Kelly took no time in walking toward the table that Cal and Lucille now took up.
"Ain't it a pity dat I gots ta meet yous heah!"
Cal and Lucille looked up into Jack Kelly's usually warm and compassionate face, finding it flushed with anger and unforgiving splotches brushing his cheeks.
"You never had to meet me here," Cal replied evenly, "I never asked you to come, and even if you wanted to come in here to enjoy yourself you didn't have to come see me."
"Just lookin' at ya makes me sick," Jack verbalized harshly.
"Right back at you, big boy."
Her callous reply made him start. She was even harsher than he could ever be, and that gave him an intimidating sense of unknowing. Her tongue was dangerous and her words were lethal.
"Damn you, Cal." Had not Jack already discovered that this would be a losing battle of words?
"I believe that I need no such thing. I'm already in a fiery hell just looking at your face. Maybe you're Satan."
It was strange, listening to the two previous friends bicker. They had always gotten along in the past. Jack had been easy to talk to and always friendly. Cal had not opened up much, but had at least trusted him enough to talk at all. It had ended however, when she had cursed his best friend. It was as if it had been a pride wound to his own heart.
All the while the man with the dark face looked on, watching, absorbing.
Jack's fist hit the table with a loud splat! Cal's unused mug sloshed at the sides, finally tipping over completely. Luckily, the contents splashed on no one around. Cal remained staring fixedly at Jack, her gaze never leaving his sweaty, angry face. He breathed heavily for a moment and Lucille put her hands to her mouth, not doing very well at covering up her scared face and loud shriek.
The bar seemed to not notice at all the troubled atmosphere around the table. Everyone continued talking and mumbling and serving drinks as if nothing had happened. Nothing out of the ordinary anyway.
"What is it you want, Kelly? Why in the hell are you here? I'm not going to sit and let you waste another one of my drinks like that. They aren't cheap you know."
Lucille could still not move. It seemed dangerous to even breathe loudly. These two were about to have it out in the bar. She pushed her chair back slightly, steadying herself for another blow.
Contrary to what Lucille thought; however, Jack simply shrugged, pushing his hair away from his face, a sarcastic smile touching his lips.
"Ain't heah ta fight witcha, Cal. Simply heah ta tell ya ta give Conlon 'is cap back. E's outside waitin' fer ya ta hand it ova-"
"I may be close to drunk, Kelly, but I'm not stupid. I'm not walking outside like an idiot to be pounced on by Conlon and your ridiculous entourage!"
Again, Jack shrugged at Cal's coarse words, though he stared at her a little more agitated.
"Ain't heah ta pounce on ya eider. Conlon wants 'is cap back is all!"
To both the surprise of Jack and Lucille, Cal pushed her chair back harshly, wood screeching against wood, and stood up facing Jack. She placed her emerald, filthy cap on top of her head and defiantly glared at Jack's tall figure.
"Tell him to come and get me then. Its not his friggin cap anymore! As far as I'm concerned, him and his following dumbass cronies can go shove themselves into a God-forsaken garbage pile!"
Fury-filled and completely blind to the fact that the dark gentlemen had left only seconds before, Cal stomped past Jack, giving him a ruthless shove and then walked out into the late night dimness.
She breathed heatedly as she walked away from the restaurant, away from Kelly and Lucille. She wanted to be alone, she wanted to smolder in peace.
As she sneakily rounded around a corner to avoid the infamous Spot Conlon's notice, who happened to be standing nearby (but she knew for a fact that he could not see well at night. His near-sightedness was alright during the day, but at night it was useless. He was nothing.) and finally, after several more seconds of a fast-paced walk found herself sinking against a wall, huffing and muttering bitter words under her breath.
After all, this was ridiculous. It was a cap, a piece of cloth that she used to pull up her hair and shield her eyes from the sun. What was so difficult about letting her keep it? He most likely had many more. As a matter of fact, she knew he had more where this one came from. She'd seen them with her very eyes! That demanding bastard- (A/N: Bec your word! Lol)
"A little late for a young woman like yourself to be out. Alone, Ms. Cally Plenar."
Cal felt her head smack against the hard, cold wood of the wall she leaned against, as the voice slowly, yet decidedly so, slithered into her range of hearing. She stood backing away from the voice, her eyes wide in apprehension. She did not even notice the stinging pain her head was now in, or the soreness whiplash had caused her neck.
Again, the voice slyly skulked through the darkness; "I guess your precious newsies can't protect you now, though I highly doubt they would anyway."
Cal backed up further, finally recognizing the voice for what it was. This was not any normal vagabond on the streets. This was someone she knew very well. She had heard this voice many times before, through threatening and harshness, and also sneaky kindness that made her wonder. This voice was the connection to her past. It had been one of the reasons for her secrecy, her running.her constant lies.
"What are you doing here?" Her hoarse tone quietly made its way to the dark- faced man's ears and he smiled. Oh, how deliciously good this was.
Much love to Chalyce! Go read her stories.they are great!
Anna
Chapter 2
"Cally, this is ridiculous!"
Christine's yell traveled through Cally Plenar's room in very accusing and uninviting tones. Cally looked up from her vanity where she had been happily applying slight rouge to her cheeks. It had little effect on her already astonishing features, but it was not the effect that had drawn her to it. It had been the absolute pleasure of finally being of age in the Plenar household. This coming of age had been everything she had awaited for the first fifteen years of her life. Finally, on her sixteenth birthday, her father had finally passed on the age old trust and reliance that allowed her to do such things as stay up all the way through the parties, to wear slight makeup, and even to begin her courting. She smiled happily again, quite forgetting Christine's existence for a moment (something she enjoyed practicing quite often).
"Oh, Cally, would you look at me! You're making me fret so!"
Cally finally raised her gaze, several russet, curled pieces of hair falling about her face with the movement, and saw the form of her plain sister in the doorway. Christine looked certainly frightful! Her hair was only pulled up halfway, the rest of it hanging in very odd places, and she was adorned in only her undershirt and petticoats.
"Christine, what is it? You can't just come running in my room like this when I'm getting ready! I don't do that to you, and-"
"Don't tell me what to do!" was Christine's shrieked order. "And anyway, I just found my pink dress, Cally. Don't give me that look, I know you wore it-"
"Did not!" Cally yelled, standing up to give a better sense of defense that her short frame could not offer. The light green dress she wore fell onto the floor in beautiful jade swells.
"It's stained, Cally! You stained it and I want to wear it tonight!" Christine hissed, the fury becoming visible throughout her face in red splotches.
Cally rolled her eyes, unspeakably miffed.
"I don't know what you were drinking the last party, Christine, but if I remember correctly, you stained it with some sauce from dinner because you wore it!"
The noise that escaped Christine's lips sounded quite like some dying animal's last wishes.
"Mark my words! One day I'll catch you, Cally Plenar!" she shouted.
Snorting, Cally replied, "I wouldn't wear your dresses anyway. You have no taste."
The two sisters would have squawked until they had no breath, had not their mother walked into Cally's room, wondering what the fuss was about. Of course, the blame was to be put on Cally, for she was the youngest and the most mischievous. Cally finally lifted her hands up in despair:
"Mama! I did not wear her dress! It wouldn't fit me anyway and I don't like the color!"
"Enough," her mother said shortly to Cally, then, gently touching Christine's arm, said smoothly, "Christine, finish dressing. Both of you need to be down in twenty minutes."
As Christine left the room in a huff, Cally turned to her mother, excitement in her eyes.
"Momma, are Caroline and Marilyn coming tonight?" Cally whispered, clasping her mother's beautiful pale hands in her own.
Angelle Plenar stared at her youngest daughter, Cally's excitement making her smile as well.
"Oh, dear, how could either of them miss it? It's the biggest party of the year!"
The southern drawl was more than convincing.
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
The sordid condition of the bar Cal sat at, late into the night was only one of the many things that gave her a look of ill humor. Her eyes, usually green and lively, stared dully in front of her, eyebrows furrowed in spite and a slight case of wonder. Her mouth was turned as far down as it possibly could be, the frown so obvious a person a mile away could have suspected foulness from it.
A girl sat next to Cal, staring at the squalor in her partner's position. The girl's fiery, straight red hair traveled all the way down her back, in a long thick line. Her very risqué attire would cause any man to stare, but she paid that little mind. Her brown eyes were wide with the lack of ability to compose herself against Cal's disgust. This was her friend and something was irking her deeply.
"Oh, Cal, I hate it when you look so! Something terrible has happened, hasn't it?"
It seemed as if Cal had not heard the girl, for her eyes remained fixedly staring at the drink upon the table in front of her. The girl obtained an anxious look on her already descriptive features when Cal did not respond.
"Cal-"
"I heard you, Lucille. I always hear you. It's damn hard not to."
Lucille stared shocked for a moment, but only a moment. This was Cal's usual speech. It was her as always, blunt shocking and coarse tone that she used with everyone she met. Lucille just happened to be one that never let it get to her. For some reason she imagined Cal to have some compassion, some humanistic quality that would make her a wonderful person, but she had yet to find it.
Cal was as hard as stone and she wasn't cracking anytime soon.
"Cal, what's wrong?"
Slowly but surely, Cal removed herself from the position she had been stationed in for several hours now at the table in the only bar she knew for refuge. She turned her head several times, hearing the delightful crack of unused muscles. She rolled her shoulders back, immediately enjoying the restoration of her blood flow. Then she took off the cap that had been stationed on her head for nearly 3 days, and pushed back her unruly hair.
She had not feigned to take off the cap after she had left the Brooklyn docks three days ago. She seemed slightly attached to the cap Spot had given her a year ago. She had only used it as an instrument to free herself from the blasted hair that had haunted her being since she was old enough to realize it. For the three days that she had entered this bar at 7:00 sharp, she had felt the immediate regret with her decision to leave Brooklyn. Although her days there had been filled with secrets and late night wanderings through the city, she still looked upon them fondly. Spot had been a hard leader, yet still fair and he had never asked questions until that day.
That's just it, Cally, she reprimanded silently. The questions meant it was time to go. She knew that from long ago. Whenever she was questioned it was time to leave, no questions asked.
She laughed slightly at the irony of it all. The youngest daughter and the most wanted. Oh, how sweet it all turned out.
She was suddenly jerked back to reality by Lucille's clearing throat exercises.
"I hear you," Cal said disgustedly. "What is it you want?"
"God, Cal! I want to know what's wrong? You never usually come into this bar every day. I usually see you once a week if that. Newsie life takes up all that time-"
"Well, there you go. I'm not a newsie anymore. That should answer everything."
The silence that followed was partly from Lucille's shock and partly from Cal's unsociable tendencies of the evening.
"Not exactly," Lucille said after the pause had made a sufficient impression upon Cal.
Cal sighed, an excruciating sound that made Lucille look in great wonder.
Some may wonder why Lucille put herself through the jaded comments and wistful, malignant replies Cal offered to her. It was a very unfeasible thing that only Lucille understood completely. Sometimes even Cal wondered why this girl still sat beside her, worrying and fretting over her as if she actually cared.
However, Lucille was deeply connected to this girl, not because she acted sweet and treated her like a decent friend, but because, at one point Cal had been the only arm there was to help lift her up and put her back on her feet. Cal had stood by her through thick and thin throughout the three years they had known each other. She even didn't mind being seen with Lucille in public, never mind the scandalous job she now possessed.
Cal had a charming heart, deep down through too many struggles to be compromised and Lucille knew this (though not at all about the struggles she was facing) and still believed in her. Cal still didn't seem to realize how fortunate she was to have even a handful of close people who truly cared for her. Some would not show their faces until much later.
"Cal," Lucille gently prodded her with her finger, again making Cal wake up from her senseless daydreaming. No money.no place to stay.nothing to do.
"What?"
The sharp reply was quietly uttered though forcefulness was still perceived.
"Why aren't you with the newsies still? You said you loved it there!"
Oh, how much Lucille loved to display emotion when there ought be none! Cal rolled her eyes only finding sense enough to mutter,
"Correction, I said I liked being with the newsies. And to the part of why I'm not." Cal drifted off trying to find words to fit her meaning shortly and sweetly. "Basically, they pried too much for my liking, and I disrespected Spot Conlon enough to make him demote me. So, seeing the situation, I left."
Lucille was shocked into silence. It was so unexpected. It almost seemed insane, but then again, it was Cal who this was happening to.
Cal seemed to have a very bleak background from what Lucille understood (and that was very little.) Cal never brought up her past, and Lucille had upon occasion dared to ask, but she never seemed to find a response. Every once in a while though, she had let off little tadbits that made Lucille start. The name "Caroline" had escaped her lips on more than one occasion and the name "Christine". It was all so strange.
If only Lucille had known that Cal was only trying to protect her.
"Cal, what are you going to do about money?" Lucille asked softly after another several moments of silence, filled with her deep and worried stare, and Cal's swirling her finger in her drink.
Cal looked up from her prior activity. "I don't know."
"Cal, I think you should go back to the newsies. That was the best job you've ever had and almost respectable too." A pause emitted as each realized the condition of Lucille's clothing. "I'm sure if you apologize, they'd take you back."
"No, I promise you, they wouldn't," Cal stated in a low tone. Her eyes became an even darker shade of green and her frown became even more obtrusive, as if someone had taken her mouth and pulled it down harshly.
It perhaps would have been a sharp-witted idea for either girl to have noticed the strange man that walked into the musty, dark restaurant at that moment. He was nicely dressed, with expensive looking gray pants and a tie (A definite sign of formality). However, his face was blockaded with blackness for a very significant looking hat rested upon his head.
Nevertheless, the girls did just the opposite and chose not to notice the newcomer, even though his searching eyes were knowingly noticing every inch of them.
Surprisingly though, the next person who made their presence known in the restaurant was noticed much more fluently. As he walked through the door, Lucille gasped and Cal turned and looked on with deep disgust and agitation. Jack Kelly took no time in walking toward the table that Cal and Lucille now took up.
"Ain't it a pity dat I gots ta meet yous heah!"
Cal and Lucille looked up into Jack Kelly's usually warm and compassionate face, finding it flushed with anger and unforgiving splotches brushing his cheeks.
"You never had to meet me here," Cal replied evenly, "I never asked you to come, and even if you wanted to come in here to enjoy yourself you didn't have to come see me."
"Just lookin' at ya makes me sick," Jack verbalized harshly.
"Right back at you, big boy."
Her callous reply made him start. She was even harsher than he could ever be, and that gave him an intimidating sense of unknowing. Her tongue was dangerous and her words were lethal.
"Damn you, Cal." Had not Jack already discovered that this would be a losing battle of words?
"I believe that I need no such thing. I'm already in a fiery hell just looking at your face. Maybe you're Satan."
It was strange, listening to the two previous friends bicker. They had always gotten along in the past. Jack had been easy to talk to and always friendly. Cal had not opened up much, but had at least trusted him enough to talk at all. It had ended however, when she had cursed his best friend. It was as if it had been a pride wound to his own heart.
All the while the man with the dark face looked on, watching, absorbing.
Jack's fist hit the table with a loud splat! Cal's unused mug sloshed at the sides, finally tipping over completely. Luckily, the contents splashed on no one around. Cal remained staring fixedly at Jack, her gaze never leaving his sweaty, angry face. He breathed heavily for a moment and Lucille put her hands to her mouth, not doing very well at covering up her scared face and loud shriek.
The bar seemed to not notice at all the troubled atmosphere around the table. Everyone continued talking and mumbling and serving drinks as if nothing had happened. Nothing out of the ordinary anyway.
"What is it you want, Kelly? Why in the hell are you here? I'm not going to sit and let you waste another one of my drinks like that. They aren't cheap you know."
Lucille could still not move. It seemed dangerous to even breathe loudly. These two were about to have it out in the bar. She pushed her chair back slightly, steadying herself for another blow.
Contrary to what Lucille thought; however, Jack simply shrugged, pushing his hair away from his face, a sarcastic smile touching his lips.
"Ain't heah ta fight witcha, Cal. Simply heah ta tell ya ta give Conlon 'is cap back. E's outside waitin' fer ya ta hand it ova-"
"I may be close to drunk, Kelly, but I'm not stupid. I'm not walking outside like an idiot to be pounced on by Conlon and your ridiculous entourage!"
Again, Jack shrugged at Cal's coarse words, though he stared at her a little more agitated.
"Ain't heah ta pounce on ya eider. Conlon wants 'is cap back is all!"
To both the surprise of Jack and Lucille, Cal pushed her chair back harshly, wood screeching against wood, and stood up facing Jack. She placed her emerald, filthy cap on top of her head and defiantly glared at Jack's tall figure.
"Tell him to come and get me then. Its not his friggin cap anymore! As far as I'm concerned, him and his following dumbass cronies can go shove themselves into a God-forsaken garbage pile!"
Fury-filled and completely blind to the fact that the dark gentlemen had left only seconds before, Cal stomped past Jack, giving him a ruthless shove and then walked out into the late night dimness.
She breathed heatedly as she walked away from the restaurant, away from Kelly and Lucille. She wanted to be alone, she wanted to smolder in peace.
As she sneakily rounded around a corner to avoid the infamous Spot Conlon's notice, who happened to be standing nearby (but she knew for a fact that he could not see well at night. His near-sightedness was alright during the day, but at night it was useless. He was nothing.) and finally, after several more seconds of a fast-paced walk found herself sinking against a wall, huffing and muttering bitter words under her breath.
After all, this was ridiculous. It was a cap, a piece of cloth that she used to pull up her hair and shield her eyes from the sun. What was so difficult about letting her keep it? He most likely had many more. As a matter of fact, she knew he had more where this one came from. She'd seen them with her very eyes! That demanding bastard- (A/N: Bec your word! Lol)
"A little late for a young woman like yourself to be out. Alone, Ms. Cally Plenar."
Cal felt her head smack against the hard, cold wood of the wall she leaned against, as the voice slowly, yet decidedly so, slithered into her range of hearing. She stood backing away from the voice, her eyes wide in apprehension. She did not even notice the stinging pain her head was now in, or the soreness whiplash had caused her neck.
Again, the voice slyly skulked through the darkness; "I guess your precious newsies can't protect you now, though I highly doubt they would anyway."
Cal backed up further, finally recognizing the voice for what it was. This was not any normal vagabond on the streets. This was someone she knew very well. She had heard this voice many times before, through threatening and harshness, and also sneaky kindness that made her wonder. This voice was the connection to her past. It had been one of the reasons for her secrecy, her running.her constant lies.
"What are you doing here?" Her hoarse tone quietly made its way to the dark- faced man's ears and he smiled. Oh, how deliciously good this was.