All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind.
-Aristotle
"God if this day ever ends, I'll be a church-goin' woman again," Chord whispered, sweat pouring from her wayward brown hair. She broke from her work just long enough to peer around the busy room. Most of the windows were covered in filthy tan shades, preventing the girls from being distracted by the outside world. The soot on the floor hadn't been swept clean in weeks, leaving a haphazard pattern of footprints to design the floor instead of the wood underneath. There was only one exit on this fourth floor of the building, and that exit was guarded by one of the foreman's apprentices at all times. Women were not allowed to take breaks until their scheduled time, and the foreman made sure to enforce that rule in its entirety.
"It's never been this hot before," Chord griped.
"Aw pipe down ya ninny," Athena scowled, narrowing her dark, hazel eyes. "Ya say that everyday. The next is always hotter than the previous. I've never heard anyone complain as much as you."
"Both of ya hush up!" Whisper scolded. Her eyes scanned the dank room, setting themselves on the foreman in the corner, preoccupied with paperwork. If he caught them chatting whilst on the job, they'd be out on their bums in no time at all.
Silently complying, the girls wiped the sweat from their brows with callused hands and went back to work. The life of a factory worker was never easy – the girls rose earlier than most and returned home after dark. Not many knew of a workday less than 12 hours long.
Chord eyed an uncovered window with a sigh – the sun was barely setting and already her hands felt numb. She wished nothing more than to be rid of this job and home with her family for good. If only it had been that easy.
Onyx's reflection bounced off the window, her olive skin displaced in the window by the uneven glass before her. As the clock stroke four, Onyx knew it was time to leave for work. Sighing, her long, dark lashes blanketed her black eyes once more before daylight took its hold. She stood from her place by the window and made for the mirror, adjusting her faded white blouse and tan skirt in the reflection. Without further hesitation, Onyx grabbed her brown cap and strolled out the door of the small apartment she shared with a few gals. The family-owned restaurant she waitressed at was a few blocks from the apartment in Queens and she was very glad to have the fortune of knowing the owner. One's connections in the city could lead to prosperity, just as it could lead to poverty. Onyx was sure to use her connections with caution and so far the waitress job had proved to be a good choice.
A slight wind caught Onyx on her way out the door causing a brief frown to cross her face as she readjusted her cap. Once satisfied that her cap was indeed slightly to the right, Onyx plucked a cigarette from her skirt's pocket and scanned the street corner for a friendly face. While she had pilfered enough cigarettes to last her the week, matches were something she reserved for her friends to provide her with. Onyx was one to make acquaintances fast and she was proud of that little attribute.
"Spades, got a light?" she called to a black-haired newsboy across the street. As he nodded quickly, Onyx grinned. This particular afternoon was on her good side – so far.
Celtic quickly rubbed the grime from what seemed like her hundredth plate and noticed her reflection quietly shining back into her hazel eyes. Her fair skin appeared rather ghostly in the off-white plate, her mouth curled slightly downwards as she stared into the dish.
"Cel, we need more dishes. It's like the President came ta town. Every table is full! Stop admirin' yaself and hurry!" Firecracker pestered. Groaning as she picked up a pile of newly clean dishes, Firecracker carried them to the kitchen and set them down just in time to pick up three completed dinner plates. She pushed her curly red hair behind her ears and set out into the main dining area of Tibby's once more.
Both girls lived under Filly's watch at the boarding house on Chamber and Greenwich, but chose not to be newsies, unlike most of the others. A restaurant called Tiibby's had been offering employment with pay that rivaled what a newsie would make, and both felt the job might be easier on them in the long run. Instead of what Celtic thought her job might entail, she came to find out that her hands were just as beat up as a newsie's, if not more, and the lewd gestures the male cooks gave her were a very unwelcome addition to the position of dishwasher. On the other hand, Firecracker nearly enjoyed her position as a waitress. The extra tips she received for minor flirting with the guests were what kept her going – more money in her pocket meant three meals a day, instead of her usual two. While the thought of degrading herself crept into her mind every now and then, she knew her job wasn't nearly as bad as what gals dealt with in the factories – or even worse, at Medda's.
Long, auburn hair and a very loud, pink dress crowded the petite figure sitting in the makeup chair. Three girls were flitting about around the pink dress, making sure the hair was as high as it could go and the makeup was as bold as it could be. They hurried to finish, loudly reminding each other that the show would be starting any minute. Once finished, the clouds of powder slowly subsided as the girls took off to ready the next performer, leaving a wide-eyed female by her lonesome. Puck, as she nicknamed herself, sat quietly as she mentally reviewed her impending performance.
You chose this job, now you have to stay with it, she told herself over and over again. Standing, Puck delicately walked out of the makeup room and up the stairs. As she approached the second level, she cringed at the sound of the male voices in the crowd. Just as unruly as the night before, the men chanted for the next act, eagerly awaiting another female body to devour with their hungry eyes.
Puck reached the last step and took hold of the banister. Closing her eyes, she envisioned the spotlight upon her smooth, white dress – her hair done in beautiful, bouncing curls, her face glowing with pride. She cleared her throat and began to sing as a hush flew over the audience – their ears fixated on every sound emanating from her lungs.
"And now we have a special treat for you boys!" Medda grinned. The audience hooted and hollered, men eagerly awaiting fresh meat to cast their eyes upon. "Please welcome Ms. Sugar and Spice!"
At the last words, Puck was awakened from her fantasy. Opening her eyes, she saw Medda rushing towards her, motioning for her to get on stage. Puck hated that name, Ms. Sugar and Spice, and all that it entailed. But this was her life and that stage held the means to feed her later on. Nodding to Medda, Puck took the stage, her nose wrinkling from the smoke-filled hall, and started the show.
Fingering the smooth, worn key around his neck, Spot watched his newsies take their afternoon break by the waterside. The scene was one of relaxation – boys diving into the cool, refreshing water, girls dangling their bare feet over the edge of the dock, watching as the boys swam by.
Brooklyn looked at things differently than Manhattan. The boys' reputation of ruthlessness and fierce competition was not entirely exaggerated, much to the dismay of the other boroughs. While Manhattan did have Five Points, Brooklyn had Brooklyn. There wasn't just one small vicious area – the entire borough was not meant for the weak-hearted.
It was in their eyes – a certain look. That look of passion, of years of peace and war, of loving and losing, of loyalty and mistrust. Every Brooklynite had a version of that look in their eyes - every man, woman, and especially every street rat. It was what made those newsies notorious – they worked themselves to the bone to maintain that image.
"Spot!" Relic shouted. "Spot! I can't keep pickin' up after you!" She raced towards the edge of the pier, her eyes ablaze with both frustration and anger.
Spot lowered himself from his famed perch and slowly strode to the edge of the dock, ignoring the loud shouts directed at his very figure. This entire week had been bad news for the short Brooklynite – news was buzzing around about a feud in Queens. The new leader wanted more space for his newsies to sell and his arrogant eyes were on Brooklyn.
Massive, rolling clouds in the sky floated effortlessly above the city's buildings, blocking the sun from reigning over the afternoon. A breeze sailed past Spot's chiseled features, sending a chill down his bruised spine. He'd been in three fights this week alone, and things in his body were beginning to weaken before his time. His mind wasn't where it should have been. Instead of planning Brooklyn's defense against the Queens, he was planning his way out of running the operation for a few days – or forever.
"Spot!" Relic repeated, pushing the wind-swept brown hair from her face. Skidding to a halt beside the leader, Relic cocked her head, noticing the strange gleam in Spot's eye.
"Spot?" Her voice had since lost its haste and was replaced with uncertainty.
Spot gave a small smile, as if he' d just finished a long conversation with an old friend. He turned to Relic with that same smile, his eyes full of life after the silent decision he had just made within himself.
"What is it Rel?"
Shaking her head, Relic couldn't remember what she'd run to him for. His strange acts greatly puzzled his head spy, and she had to search her mind for the reason she'd come.
"Um, yer birds… All over town they're actin' as if a war is brewin'." She blinked several times. There was more, only what was it she needed to tell him? How could his actions bring forgetfulness to her list of traits?
"I know. Is that all?" he questioned, uneasy with her sudden lack of cohesiveness.
"No, that's not all," Relic spat, regaining her senses. "Sneaks been up in Manhattan all day and her brother found out – he's fixin' to call out Jake if he doesn't keep his hands off her. And Maverick decided it'd be a good idea to take Skinflint up to the Queens border. Two of 'em figured those scabby boys wouldn't mess with a couple of Brooklyn gals. I told them not to go too far – Lord knows I ain't gonna go after them if they get caught. And speakin' of gettin' caught, Blue and Charles were found in a fight with some Queens boys over by Grand Street. How they got there nobody knows. Yer birds are slippin', Spot. And ya ain't given me the resources to recruit new blood. "
Spot took in the information, his body showing no signs of discontent over the news. "And what of Greenpoint? Heard anything from them?" he asked. Greenpoint and McGuinness was a lodging house near the northern border of Queens and Brooklyn. The number of boys there were miniscule as compared to the ones right under Spot's watch.
"Brass can't keep hold of his house if ya don't send some more scouts his way."
Nodding, Spot inhaled deeply, the sweet smell of his terrain invading his senses. Time bore on, and Relic's patience grew thin.
"Well?" Relic asked, tapping her boot against the dock.
"I'm going to Manhattan in the morning. Tell Leadpipe to take over watch for a few days."
"Yer leavin' us now? After what I just told ya?" she asked, astonished.
Spot stared her down, his blue eyes daring her to question him once more. "Yes, now. Go find Leadpipe. I'll be gone within the hour."
"Lute! Lute dear we need you!" called a voice behind the high counter.
Lute McDonaghey sighed and peered beyond the book that had intrigued her interest for the past half hour. She hadn't noticed the recent spurt in attendance at her father's bar, nor that the amount of drinks being served was not enough to keep the crowd at bay. Quickly she slipped the book into her bag and shoved her belongings out of the way of any interested parties.
"You and those romance novels." Bliss shook her head. She held her stomach briefly, mimicking the action of throwing up a nasty meal.
"I wouldn't be caught dead reading such trash," Lute insisted as she tied the last knot in her apron. "Besides, with a name like Bliss, I'd think you'd be the one into that sort of story."
Scowling, Bliss pushed back her wavy blonde hair and went back to tending to the newest thirsty crowd. Lute and Bliss had long since had a relationship of taunting each other, and it worked for the both of them. Lute had never forgiven her father for hiring another girl around her age to tend the bar, and Bliss had never forgiven Lute for a little escapade involving an entire bottle of scotch and Bliss' rather embarrassing drunken dance on one of the tables.
Lute pranced from one end of the establishment to the other, smiling as she handed out drinks to her favorite regulars. Her short brown hair followed her steps, never missing a beat as she spun through the crowds. Lute enjoyed the work. She enjoyed the customers that treated her like their own daughter, and furthermore she enjoyed the haughty ones, for it allowed her wit to shine through. While her father had kept her in school during the day, Lute was free to sell newspapers or tend the bar in the afternoons, and on occasion she endured both jobs in one day, eager to earn that extra fifty cents to help purchase another drawing pad or pencil set.
Mr. McDonaghey stepped back from the counter with a drink in one hand, eager to take a well-earned break. He sat in his favorite booth and smiled as he watched his daughter in action. His kin was so full of life and so keen on embracing new challenges – and rather stubborn about anything that came her way. He saw so much of himself in his daughter and hoped beyond hope itself that he had prepared her for the road ahead. His aging eyes took in the small bar with its rustic appeal and cluttered walls, full of memorabilia collected over the years and his daughter's drawings. His fingers drew circles in the moisture from his glass as his mind drifted in a sea of its own thoughts. This was his dream and he'd fulfilled it, though the road was one of despair and wrong turns. Would his daughter's life be any easier? One could only hope.
I know, took me long enough to get this chapter out... but school started and there just wasn't time! Big thanks to Relic for helping me every step of the way and the girls over at the NJL for giving me some new profiles to work with!
Also thanks to Filly, Smalls, Ember, Cyanne, Socks, Whisper, Sneaks, Puck, Gip, Emu, Stretch, Firecracker, Slick, and Soaker for their reviews!
