Part III
After the kiss that seemed to last for an eternity and a half of a second at the same time finally ended and Lily pulled away, she could taste nicotine on her lips. The first thought to enter her mind was indescribable. In fact, had she tried to put it into words, it would have sprung from her mouth as a loud, high pitched, girlish squeal, composed of only vowels. Her next thought came just ask quickly as the first, riding on the curtails of the jubilation as she licked her lips and tasted the distinctive taste of cigar. However, this thought she could put into words.
"Great Josephine," she thought, "Just spectacular. A chain smoking, alcoholic newsboy with an anger management problem that has seduced more than half the females in New York City. Wonderful. Splendid showing."
"So, uh.."Spot began to speak.
"No, Spot Conlon, no," she was screaming to herself in her mind, "I know what you are about to ask, and your answer is no. You are not going to bed with me. Did you hear that? You are not bedding this girl! I am not going to be another one of your conquests. Not this girl! Never!"
Spot finished his sentence, but Lily did not hear it. Instead, she looked at him alarmingly, fire in her eyes, ready to give him a piece of her strong resistance.
"God, Jo, you ain't gotta gimme a crazy look like dat," he said, "it's jist a stinkin pahty. You ain't gotta go if ya don't wanna."
The angry look disappeared from Lily's face and was quickly replaced by a confused one. Party? Had he said anything about a party? She must have been to busy giving herself a mental lecture that she drowned out what he had said. "Party?" she questioned, "What party?"
"Ahhhh...so ya do wanna go. Come on," Spot's confident, smug look had returned to his face. After all, he was Spot Conlon. What girl could resist him? He grabbed Lily's arm and began to lead her in the direct of the window, his exit of choice.
"Wait, wait, wait Conlon!" Lily resisted, reclaiming her arm. "I never said I'd go with you to this party. Or anywhere else for that matter. It's late, and I've got rehearsals in the morning. And on top of that, I've got no idea where the hell you plan on taking me, or what you think you're going to do with me when you get me there."
"Hey it's jist a party. It ain't like I'se gonna take ya tah dah Bridge and trow ya off it or somethun.' And like I said, ya ain't gotta go if ya don't wanna." Spot shrugged and turned in the direction of the window to leave. He was pretending not to care if she decided to grace him with her presence or not, but he was secretly fuming. Apparently, he had been right in the first place. Who did this broad think she was refusing a night out on the town with Spot Conlon? Didn't she know that he was the most feared and respected newsie in New York and that she was violating an unwritten law by not accepting his offer? Hell, who needed her anyway? He could find someone who was a little less stuck up and a little bit more "willing" at the party.
Lily was mulling over the advantages and disadvantages of going somewhere alone with this kid, this urchin she had just met. It shouldn't matter how attractive his confidence was or how she felt when his steel blue eyes looked through her, or even how his kiss had made her melt. He was a stranger, and from the assessment of his visible weapons that she had made, and from the knowledge she had gained from his spurts of temper and Maggie's words of warning, she knew she should just shoo him out of the window and lock it behind him. But could she convince herself that this is what she wanted to do?
No, most likely not. Her heart had already said yes and was presently following Spot Conlon out of the window. And besides, the longest relationship he had ever had was a week. The affair they were obviously carrying on would only last a week. And here it was Tuesday already. By Friday or Saturday he'd be bored with her, and she'd be rid of him, free to carry out her life as planned.
She looked at her clock. It was only nine thirty two. Still early by New York standards. And she could just stay out for a little while. There was no need to be gone all night.
Spot was one foot out of the window and ready to throw his other leg over the ledge when he heard her call out behind him, "Alright, I'll go." He smiled and turned around to face her. "Now, dat's more like it," he said.
"Just let me get my shoes, and I'm only going on my conditions. One, I am only staying out as long as I want to. When I am ready to go, you will escort me back her, no questions asked. Two, you are not getting any favours of any kind out of me. So, if you were considering that sort of thing, kindly erase it from your mind this minute. And three, the knife is coming with us." As she said the last sentence, she pulled up her skirt and tucked the knife into a sheath that was strapped around her thigh. She fastened the buckles on her shoes, and headed in the direction of the window.
As she reached their egress, Spot offered her his hand to help her climb out, but she refused it with a shake of her head and a, "No thank you. I won't be needing it." With that statement, she swiftly and deftly climbed out of the window and began making her way down the fire escape ladders.
Spot smirked. This girl was something. He didn't know what kind of something she was yet. But she was definitely something he had never experienced before. His initial reaction had been one of delight. She aroused something within him with her fiery attitude and determination that made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and unmentionable thoughts come to mind. However, his instinct told him that this girl could be trouble. She was independent, and maybe too much so. He didn't want her questioning who was in charge. He was the boss, and if she was going to be his girl, she's better recognize that. His girl. To Spot Conlon, it was an interesting, almost tasty thought.
As Spot stood there, thinking, Lily had nearly reached the ground. He had to run to catch up with her. "Where are you taking me anyway?" she inquired of him.
"'S boithday party for one a me boys. Big tah do and everything. Dah woiks, ya know?" he responded.
~***~
They walked in silence, Lily following Spot's lead until he finally stopped. Lily looked up to see the building at which they had stopped.
"Whitewall Pub," Lily said, reading the sign, "It's a pub?"
"Yeah," Spot said nodding, "dah good ol'Whitewalla."
"So I read," she answered, almost in disbelief that 'dah woiks' would take place in a pub he called the "whitewalla." "Let me guess, does it have white walls?"
"Nah," said Spot, shaking his head. "Dey's brown. Now, you'se comin' in or ya gonna stay out heah talkin' all night?" He walked in the direction of the pub with the intention of heading in.
Lily stood there, staring at the building. She sighed. "It's only for one week. Only one week," she told herself. She shrugged her shoulders then ran off to catch Spot.
She was behind Spot when he opened the door to the pub, revealing an entire world almost unbeknownst to the outside. Lily's eyes opened wide to take in all that she saw around her. The walls, as Spot had said, were certainly brown, but the gaslight made them emit a glow that was near otherworldly. And everywhere, in every corner, lining every wall, everywhere her eyes could see were newsboys, easily over a hundred of them in the room. Dirty newsboys in clothes too big or small for them and holes in their pockets. They were talking and smoking, laughing and carousing. Some were dancing and even more were drinking. They carried on without stopping, but as Lily walked through the door, she could feel their eyes on her.
She followed Spot through the room as he parted a path through the see of boys. She heard some of them whistle. "Hey Conlon, whatcha got there?" she heard one of them yell, followed by another shout of "Looky, looky at Brooky dere!" Lily couldn't see Spot's face, but she knew, she just knew he was smiling that smug, satisfied grin of his. Suddenly, a boy jumped down from a table and landed in front of her. He was tall and blonde, from what she could tell through the smoky air, and he was wearing an eye patch. "Hey," he said, "you wanna dance?"
Lily wasn't sure how to answer this ragamuffin kid. She stuttered for a moment. "Uh, uh," looking around the room, before she smiled a confused sort of smile, and said, "Alright." Right then, the kid took her hand and whisked her onto the dance floor where the band was playing a lively jig.
While Lily was being swung around the floor, Spot made his way over to the bar where several boys were standing. "Heya Spot," said one who was sitting on a barstool, leaning back against the bar, an unhappy looking girl standing beside him. "Heya Jacky," Spot answered, pulling up a stool. "Hey Sarah," he addressed the girl. She forced a smile and nodded at him. Jack passed Spot a bottle, and Spot took a swig.
"I would uh, ax ya how it's rollin, but from dah looks o'dat dere, I t'ink I already know," Jack said, raising his eyebrows at Spot. Another boy with black hair, outfitted in a vest and a cigar, came up to them. "Heya Race," said Jack. "Dat dere's Lily Fox, ain't it?" Race asked. Spot smiled smugly again and answered with an equally smug, "Yup, it shoah is."
Race looked impressed. "Tell me somethun' Conlon," he said, "how did you get Lily Fox tah come heah?"
"I know how he got 'er heah," Jack said and both boys turned to face him as he went on, "he t'reatened 'er wid his stick." Jack and Race laughed.
"Hey, watch yer mout dere Kelly,"Spot threatened.
"Wha?" said Jack innocently, "Ya knows as well as I knows that dere ain't too many people you don't t'reaten wit dat stick."
"And if ya don't shut yer face," Spot retorted, "I'm gonna take dis stick and shove it up yer ass."
"Nah," said Jack to Race, "maybe he didn't need tah use dah stick dis time. Jis' look at 'is face." Jack grabbed Spot's face, turned it toward Race, and squeezed it to illustrate his point while he said, "Wit a puss like dis, ya don't need no stick."
"Get yer hands off me face Kelly," Spot angrily spat, pushing Jack's hand off of his face as Jack and Race erupted into laughter.
Out on the floor, Lily was still being whirled around to the lively beat of the jig. Her partner, she had found out in between desperate attempts to catch her breath, was named Blink. When the song finally stopped, Lily breathed a sigh of relief, thinking she was now free to rest. However, she found she was mistaken when another newsie immediately came up to take Blink's place. "Dance?" he asked.
Lily looked at him incredulously, but shrugged and said, "Why not?" The band struck up another fast paced tune, and Lily once again found herself being led all over the floor at rapid pace. "Name's Specs," he said. "I'm Li-" Lily started to say, but was interrupted. "I knows who ya are," Specs said. Lily started to question his statement, but decided not to. Better to save her breath for dancing instead of talking because, from the looks of it, she wouldn't be resting anytime soon.
Lily tramped all over the floor in the arms of one newsie after another. Blink, Specs, Skittery, Rock, Bumlets, Johnny, TJ, Stinga, Scrapper, Red, Big Moe, Ralphie..so many names, she was beginning to lose track. She was out of breath and her feet were aching from the steps and the occasional accidental stomp of a newsie's foot. As a slower song started to be played, she finally thought the break she'd been waiting for had come. She was ready to march over to the bar to get something to quench her dancing- induced thirst when she was approached by yet another boy.
He had black hair and was decked out in a cap and a vest. He threw the cigar he was smoking on the ground and snuffed it out with his foot before approaching her. When he reached her, he bowed. Lily, playing along, executed a deep curtsy. "Pahdon me," he said, "but would you do me dah honah of grantin me dis dance?" Lily laughed and held out her hand, "Now how could a girl refuse such an honor?"
Race took her hand and began to slowly lead her in sweeping circles. "Racetrack Higgins, pleased tah make ya acquaintance," he said.
"Well, Racetrack Higgins," Lily answered, "the pleasure is mine." The song suddenly began to speed up, causing Race to speed up. He led her from one side of the floor to the other, occasionally twirling her, with ease. Not one time did one of his deft feet come close to trampling one of Lily's. And for that she was grateful.
Spot looked out at Lily and Race's dance from his post at the bar. The girl hadn't gotten a chance to stop moving since she walked in. She was popular because all the newsies had heard of her, many of them patrons at her theatre. Spot knew the kind of reaction he'd stimulate by bringing her here. He felt empowered at knowing that Lily's popularity would raise his status and impress many of the boys. But watching her out there, seeing all of the boys' eyes on her, how they got to hold her when they danced, and the way she sparkled, he couldn't help but feel the jealousy rising up, as its heat traveled up the back of his neck.
Lily was glad when the song finally ended. She curtsied as Race bowed to her again, but she was determined to hold to her earlier decision. She was certainly stopping this time. If anyone asked for another dance, she'd tell them most sternly that they'd have to wait a few minutes.
She exited the floor and pushed her way toward where she'd seen Spot sitting from a blurred glimpse she caught of him while dancing. He as at the bar with another boy and a very cross looking girl. When she finally reached him, she noticed the smug look hadn't left his face.
"Had enuff?" he said to her, more of a statement than a question. She nodded, still trying to catch her breath. "Ya want somet'ing tah drink?" he asked her.
"Scotch," she said, and was almost immediately handed a glass. She drank it down immediately.
"Dis here is Jack Kelly," said Spot, motioning to the boy standing beside them with the red bandana around his neck, "and dat dere is Sarah. His goil."
Jack nodded and smiled, but Sarah's only reaction was a look of disdain. "Jack," she said in a quiet, almost pleading voice, "I'd like something to drink."
"Alright," he answered, "I'll get ya some water or somethun'." He began to motion for the bartender to come over.
"No," said Sarah, "I think I'll have what she's having."
Lily noticed her voice change to almost a hiss when she said the word "she." What was this girl trying to do? Match wits with her by out- drinking her? Was she jealous or something? Did she think that Lily was out to steal her little boyfriend and that she was going to show her who's boss by matching ever drink Lily took.
Jack looked surprised at Sarah's demand, but got when the bartender reached him, he simply said, "Scotch for dah lady."
When Sarah received her drink, she was shocked by it's taste. She wrinkled her nose at the first sip and started to put it down. But, she looked at Lily and remembered how she'd finished the entire drink without flinching and quickly gulped down the rest.
Lily was watching her the entire time. When she saw the look of satisfaction in Sarah's eyes after she'd finished the entire glass, she said, "I think I'll have another one." She watched Sarah's face to see what would happened.
Just as she had thought she would, "Yes, me too," said Sarah. Both girls were passed another glass. They drank them down, never taking their eyes off of each other. The other boys in the room had begun to notice what was happening and started to form a crowd around them.
"You wan' anudder one, Sarah," Jack asked. Sarah looked at Jack, then she looked at Lily, not sure how she should answer. No, she didn't really want another one, and she was hoping that she wouldn't have to choke one more down.
"Sure she does," Lily spoke up, now fully aware of what was taking place and wanting to see how far she could push Sarah. She wanted to see what would happen when the prissy little thing had her fill. She wanted to see how amusing it would be.
Again, both girls were passed another drink. Sarah took a sip of hers slowly, cringing in distaste yet again. But when she saw that Lily was steadily drinking her, she began to force it down. Though she had made it to the bottom of the glass, she was beginning to feel a little woosy.
Lily smiled at Sarah as the barkeep passed them another round. Lily took a sip of hers and watched Sarah shakily lift the glass to her mouth and drink some of the potent liquid. Sarah then put the glass down. "Jack, I don't- " she begun to say but didn't finish before she closed her eyes and started sliding off of her stool.
"Whoa!" Jack said catching her as the pub went up with newsboys' cheers. "I t'ink you'se had enuff dere Sarah."
Lily herself was beginning to feel a little sick, but her triumph had distracted her. She received even more of a distraction when she felt a hot and familiar voice in her ear say, "Dat dere is da greatest t'ing I'se seen in a long time."
She turned around, coming face to face with Spot. "I didn't know ya had it in ya,"Spot said. Lily smiled a sly smile. "Come off it, Conlon," she said, "you certainly didn't think I was that much of a sissy, did you?"
Lily jumped down from her stool, but as her feet hit the ground, she began to feel a little woozy. The room spun a little, but she was able to steady herself and regain her composure before anyone noticed. She was lightheaded and giddy from her four glasses of Scotch, so she set out the rejoin the newsies on the dance floor before her happy tipsiness left her for the nausea that was sure to follow.
She had not gotten far when she heard Spot's voice call out to her, "Excuse me, Miss Fox." She turned around to face him, awaiting the continuation of his sentence. "I, uh, was jis' wonderin' just when ya planned on dancin' wit dah fella dat brought ya."
"Why?" Lily questioned, trying to get a rise out of him, "Does the fellow who brought me want to dance."
Spot stood up and walked over to her, "Yeah, ya might say dat."
"Well, then," Lily replied, "the fellow should ask, now shouldn't he?"
"Lily Jo Fox," Spot grandly said, deliberately trying to act overly sophisticated, "Would ya do me dah honah of havin' dis dance."
Lily smiled. "Maybe," she said. Spot's answer to her "maybe" was a narrowing of his blue gray eyes and a scowl. Lily laughed, then took his hand to lead him out onto the floor.
From that point on, the two shared dances with no one else. The night was growing later, and the floor was emptying. There were just a handful of couples left on the floor when the band began to play a slow song. It had a ¾ signature, a rhythm Lily knew well: a waltz. The beat was so familiar, one two three, one, two, three..she hadn't heard one in years and as it played, she felt a pang of nostalgia. "Spot," she asked as she swayed in his arms to the music, "do you know how to waltz?"
"Waltz?" he questioned, "No. What's a waltz."
"Well, it's this really," Lily said. "It's got three beats. One, two, three, one, two, three. Hear them? The way that you waltz is - well, here let me show you. But you'll have to let me lead."
Lily took the lead and Spot tried to follow. He stumbled a few times, but after he caught on, they were swiftly moving in an elegant circular pattern.
"Alright, alright," he said, "I'se got it. Lemme lead now. A goil ain't no good at leadin."
Lily let him take the lead. She closed her eyes as their feet slid over the floor. The song even sounded familiar. The tune was very close to a song she had heard many times in her childhood. She knew the words by heart. She began to hum the tune as she danced, her eyes still closed. Then, the humming turned into words as Lily sang in French the song she had learned as a child.
Spot noticed her humming and then her French singing. He was surprised that she spoke French, but did not interrupt her to question how she did. She looked as if she were in a trance, as if she were somewhere else and not in the room at all. She looked happy. Spot smiled, and decided not to interrupt her.
~***~
On the walk home, the Scotch had taken its full effect. Lily wasn't walking back to the theatre, she was floating. Floating and chattering without ceasing.
She hummed and danced while she walked down the street. "I'm gonna take it dat you had yaself a good time," Spot said, smiling at her giddiness.
"Oh, yes," said Lily, "it was perfectly lovely. And that song at the end, that was a beautiful song, didn't you think?" She began to hum more of the song.
"Yeah, beauty-ful," Spot said, "and hey, I didn't know ya spoke French."
"Yes," answered Lily, "I learned when I was very young."
"So, ya speak French, ya waltz, ya drink Scotch. Is dere anyt'ing ya can't do?" he asked.
Lily thought for a moment. She spread her arms, "Hmmmm, I can't fly. Although I tried once when I was about seven, and it didn't end well. I can't..I can't knit. And I was never very good at archery. I can't - "
Spot interrupted, "Alright, I get it. What are ya? Are ya a richie or somethun?"
Lily stopped in her tracks and was silent. The smile disappeared from her face. After a second or two, she slowly began walking behind Spot. Spot noticed the tension that the last subject had seemed to caused and quickly searched his mind for something with which to break the silence.
"So, uh," he stared, "ya shoah showed dat Sarah back dere. Drinkin her undah dah table like dat. She had it comin to 'er. She's a whiny, little priss of a bitch and she don't like me for some reason."
Lily laughed. "I might have 'shown her' back there, but I am going to be such a mess in the morning. Four glasses of scotch." She sighed.
They came up on the theatre and walked to the side where Lily's window was. They climbed up the fire escape to her room.
"So, this is my stop," said Lily giving Spot a slight smile. "I had a lovely time. I didn't think I would, but I had a lovely time. So, uh, thank you and goodnight."
She turned to climb back through her window, but Spot stopped her. "Wait," he said in a low voice, "ain't you forgettin' somethun?"
Lily looked somewhat embarrassed, but she smile again, cleared her throat, walked over to Spot, and gave him a shy kiss on the cheek. She turned to leave once more, but Spot stopped her again - this time by grabbing her wrist. He pulled her too him and kissed her passionately on the lips. A long, slow, wanting kiss.
When their lips finally parted. Lily climbed into her window. Spot started to follow her, hoping for more, but she stopped him, gently placing her hand on his chest. She smiled sweetly, and softly said, "Goodnight Conlon."
With that remark, she closed the window and the curtains and walked away. Spot lingered on the platform for a few seconds, smiling widely, before taking a deep breath and sighing. He shook his head, still smiling, and began to walk down the stairs.
~***~
To be continued...
After the kiss that seemed to last for an eternity and a half of a second at the same time finally ended and Lily pulled away, she could taste nicotine on her lips. The first thought to enter her mind was indescribable. In fact, had she tried to put it into words, it would have sprung from her mouth as a loud, high pitched, girlish squeal, composed of only vowels. Her next thought came just ask quickly as the first, riding on the curtails of the jubilation as she licked her lips and tasted the distinctive taste of cigar. However, this thought she could put into words.
"Great Josephine," she thought, "Just spectacular. A chain smoking, alcoholic newsboy with an anger management problem that has seduced more than half the females in New York City. Wonderful. Splendid showing."
"So, uh.."Spot began to speak.
"No, Spot Conlon, no," she was screaming to herself in her mind, "I know what you are about to ask, and your answer is no. You are not going to bed with me. Did you hear that? You are not bedding this girl! I am not going to be another one of your conquests. Not this girl! Never!"
Spot finished his sentence, but Lily did not hear it. Instead, she looked at him alarmingly, fire in her eyes, ready to give him a piece of her strong resistance.
"God, Jo, you ain't gotta gimme a crazy look like dat," he said, "it's jist a stinkin pahty. You ain't gotta go if ya don't wanna."
The angry look disappeared from Lily's face and was quickly replaced by a confused one. Party? Had he said anything about a party? She must have been to busy giving herself a mental lecture that she drowned out what he had said. "Party?" she questioned, "What party?"
"Ahhhh...so ya do wanna go. Come on," Spot's confident, smug look had returned to his face. After all, he was Spot Conlon. What girl could resist him? He grabbed Lily's arm and began to lead her in the direct of the window, his exit of choice.
"Wait, wait, wait Conlon!" Lily resisted, reclaiming her arm. "I never said I'd go with you to this party. Or anywhere else for that matter. It's late, and I've got rehearsals in the morning. And on top of that, I've got no idea where the hell you plan on taking me, or what you think you're going to do with me when you get me there."
"Hey it's jist a party. It ain't like I'se gonna take ya tah dah Bridge and trow ya off it or somethun.' And like I said, ya ain't gotta go if ya don't wanna." Spot shrugged and turned in the direction of the window to leave. He was pretending not to care if she decided to grace him with her presence or not, but he was secretly fuming. Apparently, he had been right in the first place. Who did this broad think she was refusing a night out on the town with Spot Conlon? Didn't she know that he was the most feared and respected newsie in New York and that she was violating an unwritten law by not accepting his offer? Hell, who needed her anyway? He could find someone who was a little less stuck up and a little bit more "willing" at the party.
Lily was mulling over the advantages and disadvantages of going somewhere alone with this kid, this urchin she had just met. It shouldn't matter how attractive his confidence was or how she felt when his steel blue eyes looked through her, or even how his kiss had made her melt. He was a stranger, and from the assessment of his visible weapons that she had made, and from the knowledge she had gained from his spurts of temper and Maggie's words of warning, she knew she should just shoo him out of the window and lock it behind him. But could she convince herself that this is what she wanted to do?
No, most likely not. Her heart had already said yes and was presently following Spot Conlon out of the window. And besides, the longest relationship he had ever had was a week. The affair they were obviously carrying on would only last a week. And here it was Tuesday already. By Friday or Saturday he'd be bored with her, and she'd be rid of him, free to carry out her life as planned.
She looked at her clock. It was only nine thirty two. Still early by New York standards. And she could just stay out for a little while. There was no need to be gone all night.
Spot was one foot out of the window and ready to throw his other leg over the ledge when he heard her call out behind him, "Alright, I'll go." He smiled and turned around to face her. "Now, dat's more like it," he said.
"Just let me get my shoes, and I'm only going on my conditions. One, I am only staying out as long as I want to. When I am ready to go, you will escort me back her, no questions asked. Two, you are not getting any favours of any kind out of me. So, if you were considering that sort of thing, kindly erase it from your mind this minute. And three, the knife is coming with us." As she said the last sentence, she pulled up her skirt and tucked the knife into a sheath that was strapped around her thigh. She fastened the buckles on her shoes, and headed in the direction of the window.
As she reached their egress, Spot offered her his hand to help her climb out, but she refused it with a shake of her head and a, "No thank you. I won't be needing it." With that statement, she swiftly and deftly climbed out of the window and began making her way down the fire escape ladders.
Spot smirked. This girl was something. He didn't know what kind of something she was yet. But she was definitely something he had never experienced before. His initial reaction had been one of delight. She aroused something within him with her fiery attitude and determination that made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck and unmentionable thoughts come to mind. However, his instinct told him that this girl could be trouble. She was independent, and maybe too much so. He didn't want her questioning who was in charge. He was the boss, and if she was going to be his girl, she's better recognize that. His girl. To Spot Conlon, it was an interesting, almost tasty thought.
As Spot stood there, thinking, Lily had nearly reached the ground. He had to run to catch up with her. "Where are you taking me anyway?" she inquired of him.
"'S boithday party for one a me boys. Big tah do and everything. Dah woiks, ya know?" he responded.
~***~
They walked in silence, Lily following Spot's lead until he finally stopped. Lily looked up to see the building at which they had stopped.
"Whitewall Pub," Lily said, reading the sign, "It's a pub?"
"Yeah," Spot said nodding, "dah good ol'Whitewalla."
"So I read," she answered, almost in disbelief that 'dah woiks' would take place in a pub he called the "whitewalla." "Let me guess, does it have white walls?"
"Nah," said Spot, shaking his head. "Dey's brown. Now, you'se comin' in or ya gonna stay out heah talkin' all night?" He walked in the direction of the pub with the intention of heading in.
Lily stood there, staring at the building. She sighed. "It's only for one week. Only one week," she told herself. She shrugged her shoulders then ran off to catch Spot.
She was behind Spot when he opened the door to the pub, revealing an entire world almost unbeknownst to the outside. Lily's eyes opened wide to take in all that she saw around her. The walls, as Spot had said, were certainly brown, but the gaslight made them emit a glow that was near otherworldly. And everywhere, in every corner, lining every wall, everywhere her eyes could see were newsboys, easily over a hundred of them in the room. Dirty newsboys in clothes too big or small for them and holes in their pockets. They were talking and smoking, laughing and carousing. Some were dancing and even more were drinking. They carried on without stopping, but as Lily walked through the door, she could feel their eyes on her.
She followed Spot through the room as he parted a path through the see of boys. She heard some of them whistle. "Hey Conlon, whatcha got there?" she heard one of them yell, followed by another shout of "Looky, looky at Brooky dere!" Lily couldn't see Spot's face, but she knew, she just knew he was smiling that smug, satisfied grin of his. Suddenly, a boy jumped down from a table and landed in front of her. He was tall and blonde, from what she could tell through the smoky air, and he was wearing an eye patch. "Hey," he said, "you wanna dance?"
Lily wasn't sure how to answer this ragamuffin kid. She stuttered for a moment. "Uh, uh," looking around the room, before she smiled a confused sort of smile, and said, "Alright." Right then, the kid took her hand and whisked her onto the dance floor where the band was playing a lively jig.
While Lily was being swung around the floor, Spot made his way over to the bar where several boys were standing. "Heya Spot," said one who was sitting on a barstool, leaning back against the bar, an unhappy looking girl standing beside him. "Heya Jacky," Spot answered, pulling up a stool. "Hey Sarah," he addressed the girl. She forced a smile and nodded at him. Jack passed Spot a bottle, and Spot took a swig.
"I would uh, ax ya how it's rollin, but from dah looks o'dat dere, I t'ink I already know," Jack said, raising his eyebrows at Spot. Another boy with black hair, outfitted in a vest and a cigar, came up to them. "Heya Race," said Jack. "Dat dere's Lily Fox, ain't it?" Race asked. Spot smiled smugly again and answered with an equally smug, "Yup, it shoah is."
Race looked impressed. "Tell me somethun' Conlon," he said, "how did you get Lily Fox tah come heah?"
"I know how he got 'er heah," Jack said and both boys turned to face him as he went on, "he t'reatened 'er wid his stick." Jack and Race laughed.
"Hey, watch yer mout dere Kelly,"Spot threatened.
"Wha?" said Jack innocently, "Ya knows as well as I knows that dere ain't too many people you don't t'reaten wit dat stick."
"And if ya don't shut yer face," Spot retorted, "I'm gonna take dis stick and shove it up yer ass."
"Nah," said Jack to Race, "maybe he didn't need tah use dah stick dis time. Jis' look at 'is face." Jack grabbed Spot's face, turned it toward Race, and squeezed it to illustrate his point while he said, "Wit a puss like dis, ya don't need no stick."
"Get yer hands off me face Kelly," Spot angrily spat, pushing Jack's hand off of his face as Jack and Race erupted into laughter.
Out on the floor, Lily was still being whirled around to the lively beat of the jig. Her partner, she had found out in between desperate attempts to catch her breath, was named Blink. When the song finally stopped, Lily breathed a sigh of relief, thinking she was now free to rest. However, she found she was mistaken when another newsie immediately came up to take Blink's place. "Dance?" he asked.
Lily looked at him incredulously, but shrugged and said, "Why not?" The band struck up another fast paced tune, and Lily once again found herself being led all over the floor at rapid pace. "Name's Specs," he said. "I'm Li-" Lily started to say, but was interrupted. "I knows who ya are," Specs said. Lily started to question his statement, but decided not to. Better to save her breath for dancing instead of talking because, from the looks of it, she wouldn't be resting anytime soon.
Lily tramped all over the floor in the arms of one newsie after another. Blink, Specs, Skittery, Rock, Bumlets, Johnny, TJ, Stinga, Scrapper, Red, Big Moe, Ralphie..so many names, she was beginning to lose track. She was out of breath and her feet were aching from the steps and the occasional accidental stomp of a newsie's foot. As a slower song started to be played, she finally thought the break she'd been waiting for had come. She was ready to march over to the bar to get something to quench her dancing- induced thirst when she was approached by yet another boy.
He had black hair and was decked out in a cap and a vest. He threw the cigar he was smoking on the ground and snuffed it out with his foot before approaching her. When he reached her, he bowed. Lily, playing along, executed a deep curtsy. "Pahdon me," he said, "but would you do me dah honah of grantin me dis dance?" Lily laughed and held out her hand, "Now how could a girl refuse such an honor?"
Race took her hand and began to slowly lead her in sweeping circles. "Racetrack Higgins, pleased tah make ya acquaintance," he said.
"Well, Racetrack Higgins," Lily answered, "the pleasure is mine." The song suddenly began to speed up, causing Race to speed up. He led her from one side of the floor to the other, occasionally twirling her, with ease. Not one time did one of his deft feet come close to trampling one of Lily's. And for that she was grateful.
Spot looked out at Lily and Race's dance from his post at the bar. The girl hadn't gotten a chance to stop moving since she walked in. She was popular because all the newsies had heard of her, many of them patrons at her theatre. Spot knew the kind of reaction he'd stimulate by bringing her here. He felt empowered at knowing that Lily's popularity would raise his status and impress many of the boys. But watching her out there, seeing all of the boys' eyes on her, how they got to hold her when they danced, and the way she sparkled, he couldn't help but feel the jealousy rising up, as its heat traveled up the back of his neck.
Lily was glad when the song finally ended. She curtsied as Race bowed to her again, but she was determined to hold to her earlier decision. She was certainly stopping this time. If anyone asked for another dance, she'd tell them most sternly that they'd have to wait a few minutes.
She exited the floor and pushed her way toward where she'd seen Spot sitting from a blurred glimpse she caught of him while dancing. He as at the bar with another boy and a very cross looking girl. When she finally reached him, she noticed the smug look hadn't left his face.
"Had enuff?" he said to her, more of a statement than a question. She nodded, still trying to catch her breath. "Ya want somet'ing tah drink?" he asked her.
"Scotch," she said, and was almost immediately handed a glass. She drank it down immediately.
"Dis here is Jack Kelly," said Spot, motioning to the boy standing beside them with the red bandana around his neck, "and dat dere is Sarah. His goil."
Jack nodded and smiled, but Sarah's only reaction was a look of disdain. "Jack," she said in a quiet, almost pleading voice, "I'd like something to drink."
"Alright," he answered, "I'll get ya some water or somethun'." He began to motion for the bartender to come over.
"No," said Sarah, "I think I'll have what she's having."
Lily noticed her voice change to almost a hiss when she said the word "she." What was this girl trying to do? Match wits with her by out- drinking her? Was she jealous or something? Did she think that Lily was out to steal her little boyfriend and that she was going to show her who's boss by matching ever drink Lily took.
Jack looked surprised at Sarah's demand, but got when the bartender reached him, he simply said, "Scotch for dah lady."
When Sarah received her drink, she was shocked by it's taste. She wrinkled her nose at the first sip and started to put it down. But, she looked at Lily and remembered how she'd finished the entire drink without flinching and quickly gulped down the rest.
Lily was watching her the entire time. When she saw the look of satisfaction in Sarah's eyes after she'd finished the entire glass, she said, "I think I'll have another one." She watched Sarah's face to see what would happened.
Just as she had thought she would, "Yes, me too," said Sarah. Both girls were passed another glass. They drank them down, never taking their eyes off of each other. The other boys in the room had begun to notice what was happening and started to form a crowd around them.
"You wan' anudder one, Sarah," Jack asked. Sarah looked at Jack, then she looked at Lily, not sure how she should answer. No, she didn't really want another one, and she was hoping that she wouldn't have to choke one more down.
"Sure she does," Lily spoke up, now fully aware of what was taking place and wanting to see how far she could push Sarah. She wanted to see what would happen when the prissy little thing had her fill. She wanted to see how amusing it would be.
Again, both girls were passed another drink. Sarah took a sip of hers slowly, cringing in distaste yet again. But when she saw that Lily was steadily drinking her, she began to force it down. Though she had made it to the bottom of the glass, she was beginning to feel a little woosy.
Lily smiled at Sarah as the barkeep passed them another round. Lily took a sip of hers and watched Sarah shakily lift the glass to her mouth and drink some of the potent liquid. Sarah then put the glass down. "Jack, I don't- " she begun to say but didn't finish before she closed her eyes and started sliding off of her stool.
"Whoa!" Jack said catching her as the pub went up with newsboys' cheers. "I t'ink you'se had enuff dere Sarah."
Lily herself was beginning to feel a little sick, but her triumph had distracted her. She received even more of a distraction when she felt a hot and familiar voice in her ear say, "Dat dere is da greatest t'ing I'se seen in a long time."
She turned around, coming face to face with Spot. "I didn't know ya had it in ya,"Spot said. Lily smiled a sly smile. "Come off it, Conlon," she said, "you certainly didn't think I was that much of a sissy, did you?"
Lily jumped down from her stool, but as her feet hit the ground, she began to feel a little woozy. The room spun a little, but she was able to steady herself and regain her composure before anyone noticed. She was lightheaded and giddy from her four glasses of Scotch, so she set out the rejoin the newsies on the dance floor before her happy tipsiness left her for the nausea that was sure to follow.
She had not gotten far when she heard Spot's voice call out to her, "Excuse me, Miss Fox." She turned around to face him, awaiting the continuation of his sentence. "I, uh, was jis' wonderin' just when ya planned on dancin' wit dah fella dat brought ya."
"Why?" Lily questioned, trying to get a rise out of him, "Does the fellow who brought me want to dance."
Spot stood up and walked over to her, "Yeah, ya might say dat."
"Well, then," Lily replied, "the fellow should ask, now shouldn't he?"
"Lily Jo Fox," Spot grandly said, deliberately trying to act overly sophisticated, "Would ya do me dah honah of havin' dis dance."
Lily smiled. "Maybe," she said. Spot's answer to her "maybe" was a narrowing of his blue gray eyes and a scowl. Lily laughed, then took his hand to lead him out onto the floor.
From that point on, the two shared dances with no one else. The night was growing later, and the floor was emptying. There were just a handful of couples left on the floor when the band began to play a slow song. It had a ¾ signature, a rhythm Lily knew well: a waltz. The beat was so familiar, one two three, one, two, three..she hadn't heard one in years and as it played, she felt a pang of nostalgia. "Spot," she asked as she swayed in his arms to the music, "do you know how to waltz?"
"Waltz?" he questioned, "No. What's a waltz."
"Well, it's this really," Lily said. "It's got three beats. One, two, three, one, two, three. Hear them? The way that you waltz is - well, here let me show you. But you'll have to let me lead."
Lily took the lead and Spot tried to follow. He stumbled a few times, but after he caught on, they were swiftly moving in an elegant circular pattern.
"Alright, alright," he said, "I'se got it. Lemme lead now. A goil ain't no good at leadin."
Lily let him take the lead. She closed her eyes as their feet slid over the floor. The song even sounded familiar. The tune was very close to a song she had heard many times in her childhood. She knew the words by heart. She began to hum the tune as she danced, her eyes still closed. Then, the humming turned into words as Lily sang in French the song she had learned as a child.
Spot noticed her humming and then her French singing. He was surprised that she spoke French, but did not interrupt her to question how she did. She looked as if she were in a trance, as if she were somewhere else and not in the room at all. She looked happy. Spot smiled, and decided not to interrupt her.
~***~
On the walk home, the Scotch had taken its full effect. Lily wasn't walking back to the theatre, she was floating. Floating and chattering without ceasing.
She hummed and danced while she walked down the street. "I'm gonna take it dat you had yaself a good time," Spot said, smiling at her giddiness.
"Oh, yes," said Lily, "it was perfectly lovely. And that song at the end, that was a beautiful song, didn't you think?" She began to hum more of the song.
"Yeah, beauty-ful," Spot said, "and hey, I didn't know ya spoke French."
"Yes," answered Lily, "I learned when I was very young."
"So, ya speak French, ya waltz, ya drink Scotch. Is dere anyt'ing ya can't do?" he asked.
Lily thought for a moment. She spread her arms, "Hmmmm, I can't fly. Although I tried once when I was about seven, and it didn't end well. I can't..I can't knit. And I was never very good at archery. I can't - "
Spot interrupted, "Alright, I get it. What are ya? Are ya a richie or somethun?"
Lily stopped in her tracks and was silent. The smile disappeared from her face. After a second or two, she slowly began walking behind Spot. Spot noticed the tension that the last subject had seemed to caused and quickly searched his mind for something with which to break the silence.
"So, uh," he stared, "ya shoah showed dat Sarah back dere. Drinkin her undah dah table like dat. She had it comin to 'er. She's a whiny, little priss of a bitch and she don't like me for some reason."
Lily laughed. "I might have 'shown her' back there, but I am going to be such a mess in the morning. Four glasses of scotch." She sighed.
They came up on the theatre and walked to the side where Lily's window was. They climbed up the fire escape to her room.
"So, this is my stop," said Lily giving Spot a slight smile. "I had a lovely time. I didn't think I would, but I had a lovely time. So, uh, thank you and goodnight."
She turned to climb back through her window, but Spot stopped her. "Wait," he said in a low voice, "ain't you forgettin' somethun?"
Lily looked somewhat embarrassed, but she smile again, cleared her throat, walked over to Spot, and gave him a shy kiss on the cheek. She turned to leave once more, but Spot stopped her again - this time by grabbing her wrist. He pulled her too him and kissed her passionately on the lips. A long, slow, wanting kiss.
When their lips finally parted. Lily climbed into her window. Spot started to follow her, hoping for more, but she stopped him, gently placing her hand on his chest. She smiled sweetly, and softly said, "Goodnight Conlon."
With that remark, she closed the window and the curtains and walked away. Spot lingered on the platform for a few seconds, smiling widely, before taking a deep breath and sighing. He shook his head, still smiling, and began to walk down the stairs.
~***~
To be continued...