AUTHOR'S NOTE: Remember that this takes place a year later, in 1900.
Spot's a year and a half older, he's taller, and he's bigger and stronger,
not so skinny, flimsy, and flighty anymore. This is important to be aware
of, because if you are picturing Spot as he was in the movie, there's no
way the last scene could work.
So, with out any further ado,
Part V
The days began to fly. Seven days passed to become a week. One week became two, then three. As the fourth week drew to a close, the news of Lily's nighttime ventures with the now infamous Spot Conlon had spread around the theatre. Lily had been found out by nearly every one of her fellow performers. She could hear them giggle and whisper to each other behind her back as she walked through the hallways. Chatter would suddenly cease and a hush would fall over the room when she walked in, their questioning eyes following her every move.
The only person in the entire company ignorant to the affair was Mantovanni, himself. He was unaware because no one cared to talk to him or to tell him anything, and the girls dared not allow him to find out because they knew he would disapprove. He could not forbid or disallow any one of them to carry on external affairs, but he could very much frown upon it if he did not approve of their choice of company and punish them by denying them certain privileges. It was not unheard of for him to give a girl's solo to someone else, to re-choreograph a number so that a girl usually in the front of the kick line was given an unseen spot in the back, or to refuse an introduction to a rich, eligible bachelor that he was acquainted with to one of his girls who had done something he disapproved of.
He was especially harsh on any of his girls who, as he called, "flitted around with rubbish that she had allowed herself to become too attached to." Mantovanni, Jr. did not smile upon outside affairs with men who had nearly non-existent pocketbooks. For, as he so often reminded his troupe, the theatre thrived on patronage from admiring men. He encouraged them to see men, but only if they possessed a sufficient income from which the theatre could benefit. He had become infamous for the reminder that he offered the girls at least once a week, and they knew his oft-said line so well, they could repeat it with him in perfect unison. "Allow me to make you aware, if you weren't already, that if it were not for our benevolent male patrons that eagerly invest their money into our fine establishment, this theatre could not run. And if this theatre could not run, you lovely ladies who are employed here would be out of a job, causing you to seek your fortune out on the street, starving beside the rest of those desolate urchins. Therefore, I advise you to think twice before doing anything which may jeopardize your future and the future of your fellow performers at this establishment."
It was a trap and Mantovanni knew it. The code of conduct had been originally set in place by his father, and it had proved to be beneficial. The younger Mantovanni had seen this work and knew better than to mess with a good thing, so he left the rules in place. He was aware that he was trapping them, that the girls were all basically penniless and that they depended on their income from the theatre to survive. It was because of their extreme lack of wealth that he knew they would follow the rules, that they would live by his standards in order to continue receiving the comfortable housing, filling meals, and pleasant lifestyle that the theatre provided in return for their pretty faces and long range seduction.
Lily didn't care though. She was quite simply living in utter defiance of the Mantovanni code of conduct, but she did not worry herself over it for one second. She most certainly made sure to refrain from telling Mr. Mantovanni about her late night meetings, but she allowed the girls to think what they would and did nothing to convince them otherwise. The infatuation-induced euphoria that she was living in had placed a rosy glow over her demeanour, and her happiness caused her to be a more reckless than she usually would have allowed herself to be. She didn't mind if the other girls suspected anything. Her heart was on her sleeve and she knew it, but she wore it with a dash a pride and without a second thought, though she had never outwardly told anyone she was doing so. Spot was her secret, her private pleasure. Alone in the magic of the night, beyond the constraint of time or rules, they had created a world all their own. And Lily was not willing to share it with anyone.
However, on the third day of the fourth week of her affair, a Wednesday, just before the afternoon performance, she gave in. She was on her way to the dressing room, her shoes in her hand, humming as she walked. As she opened the door to go into the room, she noticed, yet again, that a hush had fallen over the room and that there were fifteen pairs of eyes now watching her. She looked up find those eyes still looking at her, and sighed. "What could it hurt?" she thought to herself, "It's not as if they don't already know." She looked around at them before sighing another deep sigh, and saying, "Yes." The room burst into laughter, applause, cheers, chatter, and even a few whistles. Lily rolled her eyes, executed a dramatically deep bow, and then, trying to silence them by waving her hands, walked over to her table.
~****~
"Heya Spot?" said a tall boy with a white shirt and a backward brown cap, lightly rapping on the door with his knuckles. He stood hesitating at the doorframe of Spot's room, awaiting Spot's permission to come in.
"Yeah, Quints?" Spot was sitting backward in an old, armless, wooden chair, polishing the head of his cane. He didn't look or even raise his head before he answered. He'd recognized the voice of Quints, one of his boys.
"I'se jis wonderin' if you'se goin to dah pokah game dey's havin ova dere in Queens t'night?" Quints asked, tentatively stepping into Spot's room.
"Nah, I don't t'ink so, Quints," Spot answered, continually polishing the cane and still not looking up.
Quints still stood in the doorframe, looking confused. "Hey, Spot, can I ax-" he started to say, but stopped himself, "Nah, nevamind." He turned to leave, but Spot stopped him.
"What is it? What was ya goin' tah say?" Spot had stopped his polishing and turned around toward the door.
"Well, I" Quints said, hesitating, "I,uh, uh, was, uh, jis goin tah, tah ax ya a question."
"So ax already and stop ya stutterin' in me door."
"Well I'se was goin tah ax ya, uh, well, what's wrong wit ya, Spot. Ya ain't neva heah no more, an' ya don't go tah dah pokah games or nuttin no more. Whatcha been doin?"
Spot returned to his previous position in the chair, his back toward Quints, and resumed original activity of polishing the cane. "I t'ink," he slowly said, "dat what I do or what I don't do ain't none o'ya business."
Quints could detect the tones of the quiet, but growing anger in Spot's voice. He knew better than to cross Spot, so he immediately began apologizing. "Hey, I'm sawwy. I didn't mean nothin' by it, ya know, didn't mean tah offend ya or nuthin. It's jis dat, well," he paused, a little nervous about saying the next part, "people been talkin' round heah and dere. An' I been hearin some rumours, and what dey sayin ain't nuthin' too nice."
Spot slowly raised his head, no longer polishing the cane, but gripping it tightly. His blue eyes flashed and narrowed as he gave a menacing look to the wall in front of him. His upper lip curled a little to reveal a sliver of teeth. He wet his lips with his tongue, and swallowed as though he had tasted something utterly disgusting. Though he was still silent, Quints could detect the rage rising up by the colouring slowly crawling up the back of his neck, colouring it a shade of red. When Spot finally spoke, his voice came out in a low growl. "And jis who are dese people wit dah flappin lips, Quints, huh? Who are dey?"
~***~
"Sugar Pie Why don't you just Come on over here tonight And we can do Whatever you like Just tell me that you Love me."
Lily was onstage for her afternoon performance. There was a good crowd today, more than usual, she noticed. She was gliding across the stage, her steps keeping in time with the rest of the girls as they went through their song,
"Because oh I miss you so Don't you know I'll never let you go"
Lily smiled at one of the men in the audience that had been screaming her name since the number had begun. She then looked down and noticed a young boy in the front row, a newsie most probably, she could tell from his attire and the black ink on his hands. She winked at him as she walked to the front of the stage for her solo.
"You are my only one Under the sun To you I'll be true So don't make me blue Just promise to Love me"
She began stepping back into the formation of girls to continue the routine. As she did, she looked offstage to her left and noticed Spot standing there, hanging on one of the ropes. She was quite surprised to see him back there and almost lost her place. She continued to sing, but raised her eyebrows as she caught Spot's eye, conveying a "what are you doing here" with her eyes.
"Because, oh I need you so Don't you know I'll never let you go"
The chorus had ended again, and it was time for another solo. Lily moved the front, and sang her part- "So, come on over to my place And hold me in your warm embrace We can take a carriage through Central Park And ride around until it gets dark And promise me that you'll always Love me"
When she had finished, and as she was choreographed to do after this part, she glided offstage while the other girls sang the next three bars. However, instead of exiting to the right as she usually did, she went left, in Spot's direction.
As she approached him, she didn't say a word. Spot tried to greet her with a "Hey," but she cut him off. She walked directly to him, threw her arms around him, and kissed him. When the kiss ended, she spoke. "What are you doing here?!?" she asked incredulously.
"Hanging on yer every woid," he answered, smiling and trying to be charming.
"Alright, but you're usually do that from the balcony, not backstage. Why are you backstage?" she asked again.
"Oh yeah, dat," he said, his smile fading. "I had tah talk to ya bout somethun. I ain't gonna be comin' by t'night. I, uh, got some business I gotta take care of."
"Oh, alright," Lily said, trying to conceal her disappointment and wondering what the business could be, but she dared not ask. Instead, she looked over her should to see if her cue was coming up, and noticed that it was rapidly approaching. "Well, um, I have to be getting back out there, now. You can stay if you want."
"Shoah," said Spot.
Lily began to leave, but turned around. "One more thing," she said, walking over to him.
"What's dat?" he asked.
"Oh, just um -" she began to say, but ended her sentence in another kiss. When it was over she calmly walked back onstage to finish her number as though nothing unusual had ever happened.
"Cause I can't stand it anymore I want to see you smiling at my door It's getting late Don't make me wait
Because, oh I need you so Don't you know I'll never let you go
Simply promise me That you'll always Love me."
As the song ended, Lily and the rest of the dancers were greeted by wild applause and cheers. They smiled, waved, took their bows, and then walked offstage to change for the next number.
~***~
It took some time before Lily finally fell asleep that night. As she lie in bed, she couldn't help but thinking what business Spot was taking care of. Though she tried to control it, she couldn't help but feeling the little tinges of jealousy. What could Spot be doing that was more important than being with her? Couldn't he have done it some other time? Why did it have to infringe on their time, their nights, the only time they had?
She sighed a sigh of frustration and turned over in her bed to face the window. Suddenly, her resentment turned into sadness. She missed him, and her desire for him to be there with her outweighed any bitterness she harboured against him. As she gazed at the window, she desperately wanted to see him climbing through. She closed her eyes and tried to will it into being, hoping that he'd maybe changed his mind, or that he'd taken care of his business and was now on his way to her. She forced all of her mind power into somehow telepathically transporting him there. She concentrated and wished with all of her might, frightened to open her eyes at the possible disappointment of him not being there. When she finally did, the disappointment was waiting for her because, of course, he was not there. She sighed again and told herself that she was an idiot for thinking she could transport him there with her mind, and that she was an idiot for waiting for something that was not going to happen. She rolled over to face the wall, instead and tried hard not to think of him, not to miss him, but she failed. Until she finally fell into slumber, she missed him and hated his absence every second.
~***~
Night had turned into the early hours of morning when Spot reached the Mantovanni Theatre. As quietly and as quickly as he could manage, he scaled the familiar fire escape that led to a window above the left wing of the stage.
As he climbed through the window she'd left open out of habit and wishful thinking, he saw that she was already sleeping. Her back was turned to him, the soft moonlight filtering from the window onto her back and hair. He took a deep breath, still standing at the window, and just looked at for a moment, his eyes tracing the hilly landscape her sleeping body made.
He took off his hat and set it on the windowsill. As he walked over toward her, he took the slingshot out of his back pocket and placed it on the nightstand, and then took the cane out of his belt loop and did the same. Silently and making an effort to not wake Lily, Spot undid his suspenders and tossed them on the floor. He took of his shoes, first his left, and then his right, and also placed them on the floor. His socks came off, and his shirt he pulled over his head, both finding resting places on the floor. Then, as noiselessly, and as gently as he could managed, he lifted the covers and crawled into bed with her.
She moaned and turned over, awakening. Her eyes still heavy and blurry with sleep, she at first could not make out what was happening. When she could distinguish a tall, thin shadowy figure climbing into bed with her, her heart leapt and then soared. She smiled sleepily and said in a soft, hoarse voice, "Spot." He smiled back at her. She yawned and placed a hand over her mouth to stifle it. "I thought you weren't coming."
He smiled again, and took the yawn-stifling hand in his as he brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Well, I gotta surprise ya every now and den."
His hand came to his throat as he reached for the key on a string that hung there. He pulled it over his head and went to place it on the nightstand. As he turned to do so, his face came into full moonlight, and Lily could see his face. His right eye was blackened, and his bottom lip cut and swollen. Lily reached over and let her hand graze his face. He turned back toward her, knowing that she had noticed his injuries. He shrugged and said, "Ah, it ain't nuttin."
Lily raised her left eyebrow. "I believe I already know the answer, but I'll ask anyway," she said, "Might this be somehow related to the business that needed taking care of?"
Spot's voice was stern and evasive as he looked away and replied, "Don't you worry yaself about dat."
She brought her hand up to gently touch his right eyebrow. He winced slightly, trying not to let her see. "Does it hurt?" she asked.
Spot took a deep breath and moment before he looked her in the eye, and answered most seriously and most assuredly. "Hey," he said, "Right now, I'm here wit you. I can't even feel it. Ain't nuttin in the woild hoits right now."
Lily's face softened, her lips growing into a soft smile, as she pulled Spot downward toward her. Spot let himself fall into her warm embrace. He kissed her cheek, and inhaled deeply, letting the scent of her enter his body, as a soft moan escaped his lips. With his right hand, he began to undo the buttons on her nightgown. Lily felt her body begin to tense up at this action. She could feel herself start to object, but as she looked into his eyes and felt the warmth of him overtake her, no power on earth, much less her own, could make her stop him.
Spot finished unbuttoning her collar and pulled on one side of it until her shoulder was bare. He then kissed it and began to trace her collarbone and then her neck with kisses. She tilted her head back as he kissed her chin. She could feel her entire body come alive as her heart began to race. When he reached her mouth and their lips met, Spot suddenly recoiled. He reared back and sucked air into his mouth as if in pain. "Oh, Spot, I'm sorry.."Lily began to say, but he stopped her with a shake of his head and a whisper of "nuthin hoits." With that, he held her faced in his hands, and came toward her, kissing her fully and deeply.
Still kissing her, Spot began to rise until he had led Lily into a sitting position. He undid the rest of her buttons and pulled the gown over her head and onto the floor. Soon all remaining clothing articles had been discarded and tossed onto the floor, leaving only bare skin between them. "Are you shoah? Tell me dat you want dis. Tell me yes," Spot whispered to her, his voice a little uncertain.
"Yes," she replied, "yes." Closing her eyes, she surrendered herself to Spot's control. She became lost to the outside world and could only feel his hands brush across her body and his kiss her on neck. When he finally became one with her, Lily opened her eyes to see his head drop as he breathed a deep sigh. Her first thought was to be alarmed, and she almost spoke to question whether anything was wrong. Instead she stopped herself, realizing that it was quite the opposite. Spot Conlon, the mighty leader of Brooklyn and seducer of a thousand women, was faltering, quivering in her presence. She smiled, pulled him closer to her, and kissed him.
In the midst of their bodies' silent communication, lost somewhere in the tangles of embraces, kisses, and warmth, it happened. Lily wasn't sure if it had, for she at first couldn't distinguish it from much more than a moan or a sigh from the quietness of it and possibly from the disbelief of hearing it. Nonetheless, it had actually occurred, and though she had at first doubted it, it was the very thing she had believed it to be, the very thing she wished it to be, and the very thing dared not hope for. There, as they mingled in the throes of passion, Spot leaned over, and into her ear and uttered a faint whisper: "I love you."
Hours later, after everything was said and done, she watched him sleeping silently. Sleep, as usual, did not come easy to her. However, this night she did not mind. She was content to watch his peaceful slumber, to softly laugh at his unconscious facial expressions, and to think of the dreams he must be having. The moonlight illuminated him fully now, and she for the first time that night, she was able to see him clearly. She pulled the sheet back a little and noticed bruises on his chest and side. They matched his black eye and his cut lip. She cringed at the thought of what he must have done to acquire them. "That's some business you took care of, Spot Conlon," she whispered to his still sleeping, unhearing body.
~***~
When day broke and sunlight filtered through the window, Spot was already awake. His internal clock was set to awaken him with the dawn. He had gotten out of bed and was half dressed. He finished buttoning his shirt and pulled his suspenders onto his shoulders. He went to the nightstand and picked up the shoelace with the key. Slipping it over his head, he looked at Lily and smiled. Leaning over the bed, he kissed her on the cheek. She moaned and turned over in the bed to face him, but remained asleep. He reached for his slingshot and put it in his back pocket. The cane he picked up and slipped into his belt loop. Grabbing his hat and heading for the window, he turned around once more to glance at Lily before putting it on his head and climbing out of the window.
About an hour later, Lily awoke. Still in a sleep-induced haze, she reached over to where Spot had been, but found nothing there. Turning toward the empty side of the bed, her hand found a note on the pillow. Rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes, she saw that it was written on her personal stationary, with the monogrammed L.F. at the top. She began to read the scrawling, scratched writing of Spot's hand. It said,
"You didn't think I'd leave without sayin goodbye, did you? You look so peaceful sleeping there that I didn't want to wake you up. I wouldn't be setting no good example for me boys if I drag meself up to and go to work with the rest of them. But you should know that I wanted to just stay in bed with you. So, think of me while I'm out here working me bum off and miss me or something too. And what I said last night - I meant that. Don't you forget that.
S."
~***~
Later that day, after the morning's selling, Spot was walking the streets of Manhattan. He had just been "finishing up" the business of the previous night that he had told no one about. Noontime was drawing near, so he decided to drop into Tibby's to grab a bite to eat with the other newsies that were certain to be there.
Much as he expected, he was greeted with familiar voices as he pushed open the door to Tibby's and walked inside. "Hey Spot," said Skittery in between bites. Spot returned Skittery's greeting, and patted Boots' shoulder as he walked by him. He headed toward a booth in the corner that he had seen Race, Blink, and Mush sitting at.
"Heya Spot," said Race, as Spot slid in next to him.
"Heya Race," Spot replied, "Blink, Mush."
The other two nodded and returned Spot's greeting as Spot ordered. He listened to Race tell his latest story of his day at Sheepshead and the poker game the other night in Queens as he waited for his food to come. In the middle of retelling how his big hand had beat ol' Red Stevens, Race stopped. "Hey, uh, Spot," he said, "how come you'se wasn't at dah game last night? Ya nevah miss a big pokah game, 'specially one wheah you'se got a chance o' beatin dose ol' queenies clean out of a few bucks."
Spot shrugged as his plate of food was placed down in front of him. "I, uh, jis' had some stuff tah do," he said.
"Our Spot heah is a very busy man. He's got lots o'stuff tah do, ya know. He can't be wastin his time wit us at some pokah game," said a voice coming up behind him.
Spot recognized the voice, but looked over his shoulder to make sure. "Heya Jacky-boy," he muttered.
"Hey Spot," Jack said. "So, uh, why dontcha enlighten us by telling us what important stuff ya had to take care of."
Spot said nothing in response. He was annoyed, but he was trying not to let it show. He continued eating, still not speaking. "Oh, come on, Spot," Jack pushed, "Ya ain't gonna tell us? Wait, I know what it is. It's dat goil. Ya been spendin' all ya time wit her."
Spot stopped eating, but did not turn to face Jack. "Yeah," he muttered in a low tone, "at least I ain't spendin' all me time wit a prissy bitch like Sarah."
Jack didn't immediately respond. He stood silently, thinking. "Yeah, well," he finally said, "ya got me dere." He paused again. "So, uh, Spot, tell me, dis goil o'yours, Lily, you been wit her for what, four weeks now? That ain't like you, Spot. You tryin' to set some record or somethin'?"
"She must be somethin' real special, huh, Jack?" Blink spoke up.
"Yeah," Mush chimed in, laughing.
Spot was silent. He kept eating and tried to ignore them, yet he could feel the back of his neck beginning to burn as anger worked its way through him. In order to not lose his cool and in Lily's defense, he felt he had to say something. "Yeah, well, ya know, dis goil ain't like the udders. She's different. She's better dan all dem udder goils. She's better den us even."
Jack laughed. "Yeah, Spot," he said, sniffing, and scratching his nose with his thumb, "I'm shoah she is. An' since she's so special, dat must be some mighty fine ass you been getting'."
Jack's comment was all it took to push Spot over the edge. He threw his fork down, jumped up from his seat and grabbed Jack by the collar. "You take back dem words, Kelly," he growled through his teeth, or I'm gonna force em' back down ya damn troat and make ya eat 'em!"
Spot had begun to shake Jack when Race, Blink, and Mush scrambled up from their seats to come to Jack's rescue. "Hey, hey, Spot, stop!" Mush said, and "Let 'em go, Spot," chimed in Blink. "Easy, Spot, easy, calm down!" said Race. The boys were all speaking at the same time, frantically trying to prevent a fight from breaking out between two of their friends.
They managed to pull Spot off of Jack and sat him down. "Dat's it," Race said, "jis' calm down dere. Jack didn't mean nothin'."
"Yeah, Spot, sawwy. I didn't know ya'd get so offended. I didn't mean nothin' by it, honest." Jack said. He spit in his hand and offered it out to Spot.
Spot didn't move. He stared at Jack's outstretched hand for what seemed like eternity, still fuming. Finally, he spit in his own hand, and shook Jack's.
Spot took two more bites of his food, threw some change on the table, and then stormed out of the restaurant.
"S'matter wid him?" Jack asked, still a little shook up from Spot's attack.
"Ya didn't heah?" Specs asked coming up to Jack. "Spot, dere got into a little scrap with a guy from dah Bronx las' night. Messed 'em up real good. Heard dah guy could barely walk when he got trew wid 'em."
"Ova what?" Jack asked.
"I dunno," Race said, joining them, "but I bet ya it's got somethin' tah do wit dat goil."
~***~
To be continued....
So, with out any further ado,
Part V
The days began to fly. Seven days passed to become a week. One week became two, then three. As the fourth week drew to a close, the news of Lily's nighttime ventures with the now infamous Spot Conlon had spread around the theatre. Lily had been found out by nearly every one of her fellow performers. She could hear them giggle and whisper to each other behind her back as she walked through the hallways. Chatter would suddenly cease and a hush would fall over the room when she walked in, their questioning eyes following her every move.
The only person in the entire company ignorant to the affair was Mantovanni, himself. He was unaware because no one cared to talk to him or to tell him anything, and the girls dared not allow him to find out because they knew he would disapprove. He could not forbid or disallow any one of them to carry on external affairs, but he could very much frown upon it if he did not approve of their choice of company and punish them by denying them certain privileges. It was not unheard of for him to give a girl's solo to someone else, to re-choreograph a number so that a girl usually in the front of the kick line was given an unseen spot in the back, or to refuse an introduction to a rich, eligible bachelor that he was acquainted with to one of his girls who had done something he disapproved of.
He was especially harsh on any of his girls who, as he called, "flitted around with rubbish that she had allowed herself to become too attached to." Mantovanni, Jr. did not smile upon outside affairs with men who had nearly non-existent pocketbooks. For, as he so often reminded his troupe, the theatre thrived on patronage from admiring men. He encouraged them to see men, but only if they possessed a sufficient income from which the theatre could benefit. He had become infamous for the reminder that he offered the girls at least once a week, and they knew his oft-said line so well, they could repeat it with him in perfect unison. "Allow me to make you aware, if you weren't already, that if it were not for our benevolent male patrons that eagerly invest their money into our fine establishment, this theatre could not run. And if this theatre could not run, you lovely ladies who are employed here would be out of a job, causing you to seek your fortune out on the street, starving beside the rest of those desolate urchins. Therefore, I advise you to think twice before doing anything which may jeopardize your future and the future of your fellow performers at this establishment."
It was a trap and Mantovanni knew it. The code of conduct had been originally set in place by his father, and it had proved to be beneficial. The younger Mantovanni had seen this work and knew better than to mess with a good thing, so he left the rules in place. He was aware that he was trapping them, that the girls were all basically penniless and that they depended on their income from the theatre to survive. It was because of their extreme lack of wealth that he knew they would follow the rules, that they would live by his standards in order to continue receiving the comfortable housing, filling meals, and pleasant lifestyle that the theatre provided in return for their pretty faces and long range seduction.
Lily didn't care though. She was quite simply living in utter defiance of the Mantovanni code of conduct, but she did not worry herself over it for one second. She most certainly made sure to refrain from telling Mr. Mantovanni about her late night meetings, but she allowed the girls to think what they would and did nothing to convince them otherwise. The infatuation-induced euphoria that she was living in had placed a rosy glow over her demeanour, and her happiness caused her to be a more reckless than she usually would have allowed herself to be. She didn't mind if the other girls suspected anything. Her heart was on her sleeve and she knew it, but she wore it with a dash a pride and without a second thought, though she had never outwardly told anyone she was doing so. Spot was her secret, her private pleasure. Alone in the magic of the night, beyond the constraint of time or rules, they had created a world all their own. And Lily was not willing to share it with anyone.
However, on the third day of the fourth week of her affair, a Wednesday, just before the afternoon performance, she gave in. She was on her way to the dressing room, her shoes in her hand, humming as she walked. As she opened the door to go into the room, she noticed, yet again, that a hush had fallen over the room and that there were fifteen pairs of eyes now watching her. She looked up find those eyes still looking at her, and sighed. "What could it hurt?" she thought to herself, "It's not as if they don't already know." She looked around at them before sighing another deep sigh, and saying, "Yes." The room burst into laughter, applause, cheers, chatter, and even a few whistles. Lily rolled her eyes, executed a dramatically deep bow, and then, trying to silence them by waving her hands, walked over to her table.
~****~
"Heya Spot?" said a tall boy with a white shirt and a backward brown cap, lightly rapping on the door with his knuckles. He stood hesitating at the doorframe of Spot's room, awaiting Spot's permission to come in.
"Yeah, Quints?" Spot was sitting backward in an old, armless, wooden chair, polishing the head of his cane. He didn't look or even raise his head before he answered. He'd recognized the voice of Quints, one of his boys.
"I'se jis wonderin' if you'se goin to dah pokah game dey's havin ova dere in Queens t'night?" Quints asked, tentatively stepping into Spot's room.
"Nah, I don't t'ink so, Quints," Spot answered, continually polishing the cane and still not looking up.
Quints still stood in the doorframe, looking confused. "Hey, Spot, can I ax-" he started to say, but stopped himself, "Nah, nevamind." He turned to leave, but Spot stopped him.
"What is it? What was ya goin' tah say?" Spot had stopped his polishing and turned around toward the door.
"Well, I" Quints said, hesitating, "I,uh, uh, was, uh, jis goin tah, tah ax ya a question."
"So ax already and stop ya stutterin' in me door."
"Well I'se was goin tah ax ya, uh, well, what's wrong wit ya, Spot. Ya ain't neva heah no more, an' ya don't go tah dah pokah games or nuttin no more. Whatcha been doin?"
Spot returned to his previous position in the chair, his back toward Quints, and resumed original activity of polishing the cane. "I t'ink," he slowly said, "dat what I do or what I don't do ain't none o'ya business."
Quints could detect the tones of the quiet, but growing anger in Spot's voice. He knew better than to cross Spot, so he immediately began apologizing. "Hey, I'm sawwy. I didn't mean nothin' by it, ya know, didn't mean tah offend ya or nuthin. It's jis dat, well," he paused, a little nervous about saying the next part, "people been talkin' round heah and dere. An' I been hearin some rumours, and what dey sayin ain't nuthin' too nice."
Spot slowly raised his head, no longer polishing the cane, but gripping it tightly. His blue eyes flashed and narrowed as he gave a menacing look to the wall in front of him. His upper lip curled a little to reveal a sliver of teeth. He wet his lips with his tongue, and swallowed as though he had tasted something utterly disgusting. Though he was still silent, Quints could detect the rage rising up by the colouring slowly crawling up the back of his neck, colouring it a shade of red. When Spot finally spoke, his voice came out in a low growl. "And jis who are dese people wit dah flappin lips, Quints, huh? Who are dey?"
~***~
"Sugar Pie Why don't you just Come on over here tonight And we can do Whatever you like Just tell me that you Love me."
Lily was onstage for her afternoon performance. There was a good crowd today, more than usual, she noticed. She was gliding across the stage, her steps keeping in time with the rest of the girls as they went through their song,
"Because oh I miss you so Don't you know I'll never let you go"
Lily smiled at one of the men in the audience that had been screaming her name since the number had begun. She then looked down and noticed a young boy in the front row, a newsie most probably, she could tell from his attire and the black ink on his hands. She winked at him as she walked to the front of the stage for her solo.
"You are my only one Under the sun To you I'll be true So don't make me blue Just promise to Love me"
She began stepping back into the formation of girls to continue the routine. As she did, she looked offstage to her left and noticed Spot standing there, hanging on one of the ropes. She was quite surprised to see him back there and almost lost her place. She continued to sing, but raised her eyebrows as she caught Spot's eye, conveying a "what are you doing here" with her eyes.
"Because, oh I need you so Don't you know I'll never let you go"
The chorus had ended again, and it was time for another solo. Lily moved the front, and sang her part- "So, come on over to my place And hold me in your warm embrace We can take a carriage through Central Park And ride around until it gets dark And promise me that you'll always Love me"
When she had finished, and as she was choreographed to do after this part, she glided offstage while the other girls sang the next three bars. However, instead of exiting to the right as she usually did, she went left, in Spot's direction.
As she approached him, she didn't say a word. Spot tried to greet her with a "Hey," but she cut him off. She walked directly to him, threw her arms around him, and kissed him. When the kiss ended, she spoke. "What are you doing here?!?" she asked incredulously.
"Hanging on yer every woid," he answered, smiling and trying to be charming.
"Alright, but you're usually do that from the balcony, not backstage. Why are you backstage?" she asked again.
"Oh yeah, dat," he said, his smile fading. "I had tah talk to ya bout somethun. I ain't gonna be comin' by t'night. I, uh, got some business I gotta take care of."
"Oh, alright," Lily said, trying to conceal her disappointment and wondering what the business could be, but she dared not ask. Instead, she looked over her should to see if her cue was coming up, and noticed that it was rapidly approaching. "Well, um, I have to be getting back out there, now. You can stay if you want."
"Shoah," said Spot.
Lily began to leave, but turned around. "One more thing," she said, walking over to him.
"What's dat?" he asked.
"Oh, just um -" she began to say, but ended her sentence in another kiss. When it was over she calmly walked back onstage to finish her number as though nothing unusual had ever happened.
"Cause I can't stand it anymore I want to see you smiling at my door It's getting late Don't make me wait
Because, oh I need you so Don't you know I'll never let you go
Simply promise me That you'll always Love me."
As the song ended, Lily and the rest of the dancers were greeted by wild applause and cheers. They smiled, waved, took their bows, and then walked offstage to change for the next number.
~***~
It took some time before Lily finally fell asleep that night. As she lie in bed, she couldn't help but thinking what business Spot was taking care of. Though she tried to control it, she couldn't help but feeling the little tinges of jealousy. What could Spot be doing that was more important than being with her? Couldn't he have done it some other time? Why did it have to infringe on their time, their nights, the only time they had?
She sighed a sigh of frustration and turned over in her bed to face the window. Suddenly, her resentment turned into sadness. She missed him, and her desire for him to be there with her outweighed any bitterness she harboured against him. As she gazed at the window, she desperately wanted to see him climbing through. She closed her eyes and tried to will it into being, hoping that he'd maybe changed his mind, or that he'd taken care of his business and was now on his way to her. She forced all of her mind power into somehow telepathically transporting him there. She concentrated and wished with all of her might, frightened to open her eyes at the possible disappointment of him not being there. When she finally did, the disappointment was waiting for her because, of course, he was not there. She sighed again and told herself that she was an idiot for thinking she could transport him there with her mind, and that she was an idiot for waiting for something that was not going to happen. She rolled over to face the wall, instead and tried hard not to think of him, not to miss him, but she failed. Until she finally fell into slumber, she missed him and hated his absence every second.
~***~
Night had turned into the early hours of morning when Spot reached the Mantovanni Theatre. As quietly and as quickly as he could manage, he scaled the familiar fire escape that led to a window above the left wing of the stage.
As he climbed through the window she'd left open out of habit and wishful thinking, he saw that she was already sleeping. Her back was turned to him, the soft moonlight filtering from the window onto her back and hair. He took a deep breath, still standing at the window, and just looked at for a moment, his eyes tracing the hilly landscape her sleeping body made.
He took off his hat and set it on the windowsill. As he walked over toward her, he took the slingshot out of his back pocket and placed it on the nightstand, and then took the cane out of his belt loop and did the same. Silently and making an effort to not wake Lily, Spot undid his suspenders and tossed them on the floor. He took of his shoes, first his left, and then his right, and also placed them on the floor. His socks came off, and his shirt he pulled over his head, both finding resting places on the floor. Then, as noiselessly, and as gently as he could managed, he lifted the covers and crawled into bed with her.
She moaned and turned over, awakening. Her eyes still heavy and blurry with sleep, she at first could not make out what was happening. When she could distinguish a tall, thin shadowy figure climbing into bed with her, her heart leapt and then soared. She smiled sleepily and said in a soft, hoarse voice, "Spot." He smiled back at her. She yawned and placed a hand over her mouth to stifle it. "I thought you weren't coming."
He smiled again, and took the yawn-stifling hand in his as he brought it to his lips and kissed it. "Well, I gotta surprise ya every now and den."
His hand came to his throat as he reached for the key on a string that hung there. He pulled it over his head and went to place it on the nightstand. As he turned to do so, his face came into full moonlight, and Lily could see his face. His right eye was blackened, and his bottom lip cut and swollen. Lily reached over and let her hand graze his face. He turned back toward her, knowing that she had noticed his injuries. He shrugged and said, "Ah, it ain't nuttin."
Lily raised her left eyebrow. "I believe I already know the answer, but I'll ask anyway," she said, "Might this be somehow related to the business that needed taking care of?"
Spot's voice was stern and evasive as he looked away and replied, "Don't you worry yaself about dat."
She brought her hand up to gently touch his right eyebrow. He winced slightly, trying not to let her see. "Does it hurt?" she asked.
Spot took a deep breath and moment before he looked her in the eye, and answered most seriously and most assuredly. "Hey," he said, "Right now, I'm here wit you. I can't even feel it. Ain't nuttin in the woild hoits right now."
Lily's face softened, her lips growing into a soft smile, as she pulled Spot downward toward her. Spot let himself fall into her warm embrace. He kissed her cheek, and inhaled deeply, letting the scent of her enter his body, as a soft moan escaped his lips. With his right hand, he began to undo the buttons on her nightgown. Lily felt her body begin to tense up at this action. She could feel herself start to object, but as she looked into his eyes and felt the warmth of him overtake her, no power on earth, much less her own, could make her stop him.
Spot finished unbuttoning her collar and pulled on one side of it until her shoulder was bare. He then kissed it and began to trace her collarbone and then her neck with kisses. She tilted her head back as he kissed her chin. She could feel her entire body come alive as her heart began to race. When he reached her mouth and their lips met, Spot suddenly recoiled. He reared back and sucked air into his mouth as if in pain. "Oh, Spot, I'm sorry.."Lily began to say, but he stopped her with a shake of his head and a whisper of "nuthin hoits." With that, he held her faced in his hands, and came toward her, kissing her fully and deeply.
Still kissing her, Spot began to rise until he had led Lily into a sitting position. He undid the rest of her buttons and pulled the gown over her head and onto the floor. Soon all remaining clothing articles had been discarded and tossed onto the floor, leaving only bare skin between them. "Are you shoah? Tell me dat you want dis. Tell me yes," Spot whispered to her, his voice a little uncertain.
"Yes," she replied, "yes." Closing her eyes, she surrendered herself to Spot's control. She became lost to the outside world and could only feel his hands brush across her body and his kiss her on neck. When he finally became one with her, Lily opened her eyes to see his head drop as he breathed a deep sigh. Her first thought was to be alarmed, and she almost spoke to question whether anything was wrong. Instead she stopped herself, realizing that it was quite the opposite. Spot Conlon, the mighty leader of Brooklyn and seducer of a thousand women, was faltering, quivering in her presence. She smiled, pulled him closer to her, and kissed him.
In the midst of their bodies' silent communication, lost somewhere in the tangles of embraces, kisses, and warmth, it happened. Lily wasn't sure if it had, for she at first couldn't distinguish it from much more than a moan or a sigh from the quietness of it and possibly from the disbelief of hearing it. Nonetheless, it had actually occurred, and though she had at first doubted it, it was the very thing she had believed it to be, the very thing she wished it to be, and the very thing dared not hope for. There, as they mingled in the throes of passion, Spot leaned over, and into her ear and uttered a faint whisper: "I love you."
Hours later, after everything was said and done, she watched him sleeping silently. Sleep, as usual, did not come easy to her. However, this night she did not mind. She was content to watch his peaceful slumber, to softly laugh at his unconscious facial expressions, and to think of the dreams he must be having. The moonlight illuminated him fully now, and she for the first time that night, she was able to see him clearly. She pulled the sheet back a little and noticed bruises on his chest and side. They matched his black eye and his cut lip. She cringed at the thought of what he must have done to acquire them. "That's some business you took care of, Spot Conlon," she whispered to his still sleeping, unhearing body.
~***~
When day broke and sunlight filtered through the window, Spot was already awake. His internal clock was set to awaken him with the dawn. He had gotten out of bed and was half dressed. He finished buttoning his shirt and pulled his suspenders onto his shoulders. He went to the nightstand and picked up the shoelace with the key. Slipping it over his head, he looked at Lily and smiled. Leaning over the bed, he kissed her on the cheek. She moaned and turned over in the bed to face him, but remained asleep. He reached for his slingshot and put it in his back pocket. The cane he picked up and slipped into his belt loop. Grabbing his hat and heading for the window, he turned around once more to glance at Lily before putting it on his head and climbing out of the window.
About an hour later, Lily awoke. Still in a sleep-induced haze, she reached over to where Spot had been, but found nothing there. Turning toward the empty side of the bed, her hand found a note on the pillow. Rubbing the drowsiness from her eyes, she saw that it was written on her personal stationary, with the monogrammed L.F. at the top. She began to read the scrawling, scratched writing of Spot's hand. It said,
"You didn't think I'd leave without sayin goodbye, did you? You look so peaceful sleeping there that I didn't want to wake you up. I wouldn't be setting no good example for me boys if I drag meself up to and go to work with the rest of them. But you should know that I wanted to just stay in bed with you. So, think of me while I'm out here working me bum off and miss me or something too. And what I said last night - I meant that. Don't you forget that.
S."
~***~
Later that day, after the morning's selling, Spot was walking the streets of Manhattan. He had just been "finishing up" the business of the previous night that he had told no one about. Noontime was drawing near, so he decided to drop into Tibby's to grab a bite to eat with the other newsies that were certain to be there.
Much as he expected, he was greeted with familiar voices as he pushed open the door to Tibby's and walked inside. "Hey Spot," said Skittery in between bites. Spot returned Skittery's greeting, and patted Boots' shoulder as he walked by him. He headed toward a booth in the corner that he had seen Race, Blink, and Mush sitting at.
"Heya Spot," said Race, as Spot slid in next to him.
"Heya Race," Spot replied, "Blink, Mush."
The other two nodded and returned Spot's greeting as Spot ordered. He listened to Race tell his latest story of his day at Sheepshead and the poker game the other night in Queens as he waited for his food to come. In the middle of retelling how his big hand had beat ol' Red Stevens, Race stopped. "Hey, uh, Spot," he said, "how come you'se wasn't at dah game last night? Ya nevah miss a big pokah game, 'specially one wheah you'se got a chance o' beatin dose ol' queenies clean out of a few bucks."
Spot shrugged as his plate of food was placed down in front of him. "I, uh, jis' had some stuff tah do," he said.
"Our Spot heah is a very busy man. He's got lots o'stuff tah do, ya know. He can't be wastin his time wit us at some pokah game," said a voice coming up behind him.
Spot recognized the voice, but looked over his shoulder to make sure. "Heya Jacky-boy," he muttered.
"Hey Spot," Jack said. "So, uh, why dontcha enlighten us by telling us what important stuff ya had to take care of."
Spot said nothing in response. He was annoyed, but he was trying not to let it show. He continued eating, still not speaking. "Oh, come on, Spot," Jack pushed, "Ya ain't gonna tell us? Wait, I know what it is. It's dat goil. Ya been spendin' all ya time wit her."
Spot stopped eating, but did not turn to face Jack. "Yeah," he muttered in a low tone, "at least I ain't spendin' all me time wit a prissy bitch like Sarah."
Jack didn't immediately respond. He stood silently, thinking. "Yeah, well," he finally said, "ya got me dere." He paused again. "So, uh, Spot, tell me, dis goil o'yours, Lily, you been wit her for what, four weeks now? That ain't like you, Spot. You tryin' to set some record or somethin'?"
"She must be somethin' real special, huh, Jack?" Blink spoke up.
"Yeah," Mush chimed in, laughing.
Spot was silent. He kept eating and tried to ignore them, yet he could feel the back of his neck beginning to burn as anger worked its way through him. In order to not lose his cool and in Lily's defense, he felt he had to say something. "Yeah, well, ya know, dis goil ain't like the udders. She's different. She's better dan all dem udder goils. She's better den us even."
Jack laughed. "Yeah, Spot," he said, sniffing, and scratching his nose with his thumb, "I'm shoah she is. An' since she's so special, dat must be some mighty fine ass you been getting'."
Jack's comment was all it took to push Spot over the edge. He threw his fork down, jumped up from his seat and grabbed Jack by the collar. "You take back dem words, Kelly," he growled through his teeth, or I'm gonna force em' back down ya damn troat and make ya eat 'em!"
Spot had begun to shake Jack when Race, Blink, and Mush scrambled up from their seats to come to Jack's rescue. "Hey, hey, Spot, stop!" Mush said, and "Let 'em go, Spot," chimed in Blink. "Easy, Spot, easy, calm down!" said Race. The boys were all speaking at the same time, frantically trying to prevent a fight from breaking out between two of their friends.
They managed to pull Spot off of Jack and sat him down. "Dat's it," Race said, "jis' calm down dere. Jack didn't mean nothin'."
"Yeah, Spot, sawwy. I didn't know ya'd get so offended. I didn't mean nothin' by it, honest." Jack said. He spit in his hand and offered it out to Spot.
Spot didn't move. He stared at Jack's outstretched hand for what seemed like eternity, still fuming. Finally, he spit in his own hand, and shook Jack's.
Spot took two more bites of his food, threw some change on the table, and then stormed out of the restaurant.
"S'matter wid him?" Jack asked, still a little shook up from Spot's attack.
"Ya didn't heah?" Specs asked coming up to Jack. "Spot, dere got into a little scrap with a guy from dah Bronx las' night. Messed 'em up real good. Heard dah guy could barely walk when he got trew wid 'em."
"Ova what?" Jack asked.
"I dunno," Race said, joining them, "but I bet ya it's got somethin' tah do wit dat goil."
~***~
To be continued....