Part VI
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
The ticking of the clock penetrated the silent, still dark in the room. Lily was unable to sleep. She lay in Spot's arms and watched the ambiguous, nighttime shadows dance across her walls. He had not stirred in some time, and his gentle, even breathing suggested that he had already entered into a state of peaceful slumber. Lily dared not to move for fear of waking him. Instead she remained at his side, still and unmoving, lost in her thoughts.
A wind blew through the window that Spot was accustomed to leaving open. Lily shivered. "Dammit, Spot," she mouthed, almost silently, "why can't you for once just close the damn window?" She pulled the covers around her more tightly, and returned to her thoughts. Realizing that she was no closer to sleep than she was an hour ago, and pressing ideas weighing heavily on her mind, she spoke. "Spot?" she said softly.
He stirred slightly and moaned, but did not reply. Thinking that he must still be asleep, she tried again. "Spot?" she said more loudly.
He moaned once again, but this time he opened his eyes. "Mmmmmm, whaddya want?" he asked groggily, his annoyance at being awakened showing in his voice.
She paused, now thinking herself silly for having woken him up. She bit at the skin around her thumbnail before finally speaking. "Spot, do you ever think of leaving?"
"Whah, like leavin' Brooklyn?" he said, his voice still heavy with sleep.
"Yes, like leaving Brooklyn. Like leaving New York, even. Going to, oh, I don't know... Paris, or Italy, or...Pennsylvania, even. Somewhere better than here."
"Nah."
"Never?"
"Nah."
Lily was silent again. "I don't think we should see each other for a while," she finally said.
"You, you what?" Spot questioned, as awake as he could manage and propping himself up on one arm so that he could see Lily's face. "Did I do somethin'? Cause ya'd tell me if I did, right? Right? Ya'd tell me?" He had begun to sound a bit panicked in his confusion.
"No," she replied, "It's not that you did or didn't do anything. It's just that, well, you know, well....the girls are beginning to talk..and, and then there's this new girl, Eva, and I don't think she's very fond of me...no, fond would definitely not be the word I'd use. She's seems a bit, um, how can I say this, well, she's seems like she's got some hidden agenda become the star of New York in two weeks, flat. And well, since I'm standing in her way a bit, and from the way that she looks at me, I can't help but think that she's harbouring some kind of secret plan to ruin me. So, if she found out about us, since you know, I'm not exactly allowed to see you.... if she found out about us, then she'd surely go and tell Mantovanni and then, of course, that would be the end of my career, and I'd have to take up residence on the street or get some horrid job in a factory making not nearly enough and everything would just end very, very badly. So, as I said before, I think it best if we don't see each other for a while. Just for a few days, to try to maybe lessen the chances of me being found out, and being thrown out onto the street, and then having to live in the gutters, and general tragedy ensuing by-"
"Wait, wait, hold on, yer makin' me head spin. Now, lemme see if I got dis straight - you'se sayin' dat we can't see each udder for a few days cause some goil who don't like ya too much might go an' tattle on ya, and den you might get thrown out on dah street?"
"Yes, that's basically what I'm saying."
Spot narrowed his eyes. "Alright, so one more time, lemme see if I understand dis.you ain't allowed to see me and if dah big shot boss guy 'round heah finds out dat you are, he's gonna throw ya out?"
Lily nodded.
"An' why dah hell didn't ya tell me dis befoah? Dat you seein' me could get ya in trouble..."
"Well," Lily began, "it's not as if I'm technically not forbidden to see you or anyone else for that matter. It's just that.." She sighed and closed her eyes, realizing how silly and superficial her next words would sound. "Mr. Mantovanni," she began, "doesn't... particularly like for us to see men, if the men we are seeing are not able to financially invest in the theatre. Let me put this another way - this theatre thrives on its male patrons, especially the patrons that infatuated with any of us. Mantovanni prefers that we either remain unattached so that we can appear more available to the throngs of men, or that we attach ourselves to wealthy men. For, in either case, money will come into the theatre, either by admission to shows, or donations. And as you can probably see, this works out to both his and our advantages. He pockets a good deal of it, and we who are dependent on the theatre for, well, everything get to continue living a fairly comfortable lifestyle. Now, in my years of being here, he's never thrown a girl out on the street, but I would not put such a thing out of his reach. He's got ways of punishing those who disregard his code of conduct, and the punishments are not very nice. So, either way, it's quite important that I stay in his good graces in order to continue working here. And I cannot let a silly, ambitious little girl ruin it because I wasn't behaving intelligently enough to watch my step and prevent such a thing from happening."
"Jo, why didn't ya just tell me dis befoah?"
"Why should I have? It's such a silly, stupid thing, and it's not as though telling you could have actually changed anything."
"Still, it ain't right for ya tah go witholdin' stuff like dat from me." Spot was becoming annoyed.
Lily scoffed. "Well, it's not like you tell me every little thing either...." Spot groaned. "..and don't you make that face, Conlon, you know it's true. There's so many things that you haven't told me."
"Like what?"
"Oh, you want me to name one?"
"Yeah, I do. Go 'head and name somethun'" Spot challenged.
"Well, like your name for one. What is your real name anyway?"
"It's Spot."
"Oh, I don't believe you. You're so incredibly full of shit, Conlon. You really expect me to believe that at birth your mother actually named you Spot?"
"Yeah."
"Liar."
"Shaddup. Me name is Spot. Period." He paused. "Whaddabout you? Ya ain't told me yer last name eithah."
She laughed. "No, I'm not telling you. You're not getting out of this. I asked you first."
"Why do we gotta be talkin' bout dis now? I ain't talkin' no more. Leave me alone, and lemme sleep fuh Crissakes." He laid back down on his side and turned away from her.
"You're just evading the question. You never tell me anything, and then you get mad, no, you get all caught up in a full blow murderous rage when I don't tell you every little detail about every little thing."
"Shaddup, Jo," he warned, his voice muffled by the pillow.
"Fine, have it your way. I just won't talk to you at all." With a huff, she laid back down angrily, but did not close her eyes. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, silently fuming at Spot's stubbornness.
After what seemed like eternity, she heard Spot say quietly, without turning around, "Nathaniel."
"August," was her reply.
Suddenly, Spot sat up and looked at her. "Yer name's Josephine August?"
"Yes. Josephine Margot August. Why?"
"Nutthin, it just sounds like somethin' out of a book or something. Josephine August."
Lily shrugged.
Spot's mood suddenly changed as a sly smile came over his face. "Hey, uh, Josephine August, since we ain't gonna be seein' each udder for a little while, how's about you and me...."
~***~
A few days later, Lily was sitting in the private sitting room of the theatre in between shows reading Tess of the D'urbervilles again, when an envelope was dropped into her lap. She looked up from her book to see Mantovanni standing in front of her. Picking up the envelope and eyeing it, she asked, "What's this?"
"It's an invitation," he said straightening his glasses, "to a dinner party that the 42 Street Brannicks are having Thursday night. They like to consider themselves patrons of the arts, especially the performing arts. Vaudeville they find the most entertaing. It seems as though they, or I should probably infer that it's Mr. Brannick, have been longtime admirers of yours and are wishing to make your acquaintance. They're new money and probably most undoubtedly looking for something or shall I say, someone, which to spend it on. Therefore, I suggest that you do attend."
"A dinner party," Lily said with fake enthusiasm and a forced smile, "how lovely."
"Now, Miss Fox, do you have something appropriate to wear or shall you be needing to purchase something?"
"With all due respect, I do believe, Mr. Mantovanni, that I can manage."
"Very well," said Mantovanni, turning to leave. He was almost out of the door, when he stopped to add one last thing. "Oh, Miss Fox, you will notice that the invitation states that you may bring a guest. Might I suggest that you bring another female...For, you see, the Brannicks have three sons of marrying age, who, I am sure, are seeking a wife."
"I shall take your opinion into consideration. Thank you."
Mantovanni nodded and proceeded out of the door. As soon as he was out of sight, Lily rolled her eyes and sighed.
She opened the cream-coloured envelope to find another cream-coloured card inside. It had gold embossed writing, and read:
Mr. and Mrs. Edward Brannick
Of 1187 42 Street
Request the honor of your company
At their home
On Thursday, October 11, 1900
At 7 o'clock pm.
"Grand, just grand," Lily thought to herself. She didn't want to go to some dinner party thrown by some rich old couple putting on airs as though they had been born into luxury. She didn't want to meet their three equally rich and equally eligible sons. She knew what would happen. They would meet her and act as though they were delighted to partake in an "intelligent" conversation with her involving the weather and how poor of a job the mayor was doing. Then, at the first available opportunity, they'd lead her to a piano and ask her to sing a few songs for them. After the songs, they'd offer her a glass of wine and then introduce her to their sons after she was a bit tipsy. Yes, she knew how it would go. And though everything in her screamed in protest against it, she knew she would go, because she was obligated to.
Sighing deeply, she closed her book, rose from her chair, and headed upstairs. When she arrived at Faye's door, she knocked and awaited her answer.
She heard Faye's usual, "Entre!" and swung open the door to find her sewing lace onto the collar of an old blouse. Faye's favourite thing in the world was clothing. She spent every minute of her free time making new outfits or improving upon her old ones.
"What do you think?" Faye asked, holding up the blouse to show Lily her handiwork, "Is it too much?"
"It looks just like you, Faye," Lily answered, still standing in the doorframe.
"Good," said Faye returning to her sewing, "that was my intention."
"Listen Faye," Lily began, "I know that you are just dying to do this, so I'm going to ask you right now and spare you the agony of waiting. Would you like to come to a dinner party with me Thursday night?"
"No," said Faye, not looking up.
"But, oh, Faye, you have to go. Because I have to go. A few minutes ago, Mantovanni waltzed by and flung this invitation to the Brannicks' dinner party in my lap, and he basically demands, without actually demanding, that I attend and that I attend with another girl so as not to jeopardize meeting their three rich, creepy sons! So, please Faye, don't make me go alone. I'll just die! Please, you have to come with me. Faye, please! I'm begging!"
"Oh, alright, fine! Just stop groveling, will you?" Faye said, sounding annoyed. "Well, at least it will give me an opportunity to wear that blue dress I've just finished working on." She looked up at Lily, and said, "That is, assuming that my 'date' approves.."
"Oh, Faye, I don't give a damn what you wear. I'm just so happy right now that I could kiss you!" Lily replied.
~***~
Ting, ting, ting.
"Excuse me everyone," Mrs. Brannick called out as she tapped a knife on the side of her champagne class several more times, "we have some newcomers to our little gathering tonight. Please join me in welcoming Miss Lily Fox and Miss Faye Monroe!"
"Hear, hear!" someone bellowed, as the room erupted in chatter and the clanking of glasses.
Lily and Faye had been standing in a corner of the large, ornately decorated room, in an attempt to go unnoticed and perhaps escape the frivolous small talk with the upper class strangers gathered there that night. They both softly groaned at Mrs. Brannick's announcement, but donned wide, winning smiles when everyone in the room raised their glasses to toast them.
Out of the corner of her eye, Faye saw Mrs. Brannick heading over to where they were standing. She had three young men closely following behind her. "Don't look now," Faye said under her breath, "but over your left shoulder, something wicked this way comes. And it's looks as though she's bringing her three sons with her. I'm sure we'll soon be hearing a discourse on what fine husbands they will make." Lily only had time to curl her lip in disgust before their hostess was upon them.
"Oh, Miss Fox!" Mrs, Brannick squealed upon reaching them, "Miss Fox, I'd like you to meet my sons. This is Edward Jr, he's the oldest. Henry, and then Tom, Thomas our youngest. Edward is a lawyer, quite a successful one at that, I might add.and our Tom's at Havard studying..."
Lily tuned out what Mrs. Brannick was saying to her. Still smiling and nodding as though she were paying attention, she became lost in her own thoughts and her mind wandered back to Spot. The past week had felt like an eternity as she constantly tried to find things to do, to busy herself so that she might take her mind off of him. She'd been through six books, tidied her room several times, mended the tears in her clothing, and sewed lace on collars and sleeves with Faye. Despite all of that, rehearsals (several in which she had to teach Eva, the new bitch of a girl a few routines), and performances, her efforts to become forgetful failed. She found herself thinking of Spot at every possible, and sometimes every quite inopportune, moment, and wondering what good this separation could be doing. Of course, it was accomplishing her stated purpose of keeping herself out of trouble, but it didn't seem as though she were in any danger. Eva was quite content in bettering herself though constant rehearsals and general brown-nosing toward Mantovanni that it didn't seem that she'd noticed Lily's illicit affair.
Her unspoken motive had been accomplished also. She'd kept this reason from Spot, but it was her foremost reason for suggesting time apart. She was afraid, deathly and terribly afraid that he would get tired of her. From his past, Lily knew that Spot did not possess a particularly long attention span when it came to girls. It seemed to her as though she were just waiting for him to lose interest in her also. She didn't like the ominous feeling of dread that she got while waiting for her "turn" to go, and she though that if she could do something to prevent it, she would. So, she had. And where had it gotten her? The answer was a resounding nowhere. She had gotten nowhere but miserable. Was it even worth it? Was her self- imposed misery and longing for him worth trying to save the bond between them that she was not even sure was in jeopardy?
"...sing for us after dinner. Won't you dear?" Mrs. Brannick had finally finished her long winded monologue and was now addressing a question to Lily. She hadn't heard the first part, in fact, she hadn't heard very much of what Mrs. Brannick had said at all. However, she did not need Mrs. Brannick to repeat what she had previously said in order to know what was asked. Lily had heard the request time after time.
"I'd be very happy to," she responded, "and I'm certain that Faye would love to accompany me." Lily didn't need to turn around to picture the look of disgust plaguing Faye's face as she aimed bolts of lightning from her eyes Lily's head for being volunteered to participate in the wretched act of schmoozing that they both hated so much.
"Wonderful, then it's settled. I'll inform my dear cousin, Jonathan, that his piano playing expertise will be showcased tonight. I'm sure he'll be delighted!" Mrs. Brannick skipped off in utter joy to inform her cousin that of his appointment.
"I hate you," Faye growled at Lily.
"Oh, go to hell," Lily responded cheerily.
~***~
After the dinner party was over, and the two captives were released from the Brannick home, they hurriedly set off for the theatre. Faye chattered away about the awfulness of the event and everyone there, but Lily was quiet, an idea forming in her mind.
"And did you see that Miss Chapman's dress? Oh, it was hilarious! She looked like a peacock!" Faye exclaimed, laughing.
They had reached the theatre and Faye and Lily turned and went into the lobby.
Lily emerged a moment later, calling out over her shoulder, "Yes, Faye, I'm sure. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine!"
She pulled her cloak tightly around her and began walking.
~***~
Lily was about halfway to her destination when the sky that had been threatening rain for days finally opened up and poured its contents down upon her. She shivered as she put the hood of her cloak over her head and pulled it closer and more tightly around her body.
Her attempts to keep herself dry failed completely. For, by the time she had reached the door of the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House and pushed it open, she was completely soaked. As she entered the dimly lit room, the old man at the desk looked up at her, his surprise to see a soaking wet girl wandering into the lodging house at such a late hour evident on his face. Lily removed her hood, found her voice, and murmured, "Spot Conlon?"
"Upstairs," the man replied, pointing.
Lily looked left, where the man had pointed, and her eyes fell upon a dark staircase. "Thank you," she said softly.
As Lily walked up the creaking staircase, she realized how silly she must have seemed. How many times must other girls come through that door to inquire about Spot's whereabouts, just as she had done? How many times must the old man have directed those same girls up the stairs, just as he had done for her?
The old wooden planks of the stairs creaked under her step as she climbed higher. Her heart began to race as she pushed wet strands of hair off of her face. When she reached the top, she could see a light coming from a room down the hall to her left. Nervousness suddenly took over her as she paused at the top and she began to bite at her thumb's cuticle. Resolving that she'd never leave her current position if she did not overcome her now overwhelming fear, she gathered up every ounce of her courage and began to walk toward the lighted room.
When she pushed open the door, every boy's face in the room turned toward her. They were mostly all sitting on the floor in a circle, the ragged group of them, smoking and drinking, cards and various items in the middle of the circle. A few were sitting on the surrounding bunks, watching the ones on the floor. Lily had obviously interrupted their poker game and now they were all turned toward her, the frightened looking girl standing mute, soaking and dripping in their doorway, awaiting to find out the reason for the sudden interruption.
She looked around at all of their unfamiliar faces before her eyes finally lit on a recognizable one. To the far right, leaning against and almost hidden by a bunk bed sat Spot, wearing only trousers and an unbuttoned shirt. His unused suspenders were still attached to his pants and a cigar hung from his lips. His face was as startled as the other boys,' but a slight smile played on his lips. He threw his hand into the middle of the pile. "Deal me outta dis one fellas," he said, rising to his feet and walking toward the door.
Realizing what a mess she must be, Lily quickly pushed the wet, matted curls off of her face and straightened her skirt in an attempt to pull herself back together before Spot reached her. When he did reach her, he said nothing, but gently pushed her out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. It was dark, but Lily could see Spot's right eyebrow rise as his expression questioned her silently. She opened her mouth to speak, but Spot silenced her with a "Ssh," and a wave of his hand. "Not heah," he whispered, "dere all listenin at the door."
He nodded in the direction over her left shoulder. Taking her elbow, he led her past one door, and onto the second, which he opened, went into, and then shut behind them. The room was completely pitch black. Lily stood in one place so as not to trip over anything. She heard Spot fumble around for something, then the sound of a match being stuck as Spot lit a lamp, which he hung from a hook in the ceiling.
Lily squinted her eyes, letting them focus. She could now make out that she was in a bedroom that contained one set of bunk beds, though the top bunk seemed to be never used. There was a chair and a dresser with a cracked mirror and a few assorted objects on the top, one of them being a slingshot, another an empty alcohol bottle. Beside the dresser, was a very rugged looking square trunk with a pair of worn shoes beside it. A few newspaper clippings and pictures lined the walls. It was Spot's own private room, she deduced. Her conclusion was reinforced when her eyes fell on the cane lying on the floor beside the bed. The air in the room was musty and smelled of cigar and old wood.
Spot walked over to the dresser and snubbed out his cigar in a tin cup. He turned back to face Lily and finally spoke, his voice low and gravelly, " So, whaddaya doin' heah?"
Lily started to answer the question. "Well, I-," But as she began to speak she noticed a picture, clipped from a paper, no doubt, pinned to the wall behind Spot. She walked over to it to inspect it more carefully. Inspecting it, she smiled as her suspicions were confirmed. She had thought she had seen Spot in the right hand side of the picture, and sure enough, it was actually he. As she scanned the picture once more, she recognized Jack, Race, Blink, and many other boys that she had met at the party in the pub weeks ago. "Spot, is this you?" she asked, knowing the answer.
"Yeah," he replied, coming over to her.
"I thought so." She laughed, "Look at you, you're so small here, and skinny!" She read over the accompanying article that detailed the strike of last year. "Oh, I remember hearing about this," she said.
"Look, Jo, I know ya didn't come all dah way ovah heah in the pourin' rain to talk about dah strike last yeah and how skinny I was."
"No. You're right," Lily said quietly. She took off her wet cloak and draped it on the back of the chair.
"That's some dress," Spot said, "ya been at some pahty or somethin'?"
"Yes, actually. That's part of the reason why I'm here." She paused to look at Spot, who was seated on the bottom bunk, watching her every move. "I, um..,"she cleared her throat and looked at the floor, her reason for being there suddenly seeming silly and weak - so much so that she became embarrassed and did not want to tell him. She could feel her cheeks start to burn, for she knew he was still staring at her, awaiting her answer. "You see," she began again, "I went to this dinner party given by the Brannicks. Have you heard of them? No? Well, they're horribly rich, of course, and invited me to the dinner party, as I've said already. Mr. Mantovanni thinks it is a good career move, for both my career and his, so I went. And it was, well, it went fine, you know, as fine as dinner parties can be -," she stopped and looked up at him, looked into his blue eyes and suddenly felt that she had to tell him the truth, she had to give him the reason why she'd trudged all the way in the rain and why she'd go even more if she had to. "Spot, I'm lying. It was horrid. It was horribly boring and uncomfortable. And I know that I said that we needed to spend some time away from each other and everything, but the entire time, the only thing I could think of was you, and how much I would have rather been in my room, lying in your arms, instead of eating any fabulously prepared, decadent seven course meal with any rich persons who could further my career!"
Spot didn't answer her. He remained seated and silent, continuing his stare.
"God," started Lily again, embarrassed and hating herself for appearing so dependent and weak, " now you think I'm pathetic. Pathetic and silly. And stupid. Bloody hell. I should have just..I shouldn't have come." She turned away from him so that she he couldn't see her face.
Spot quietly rose from his seat and came up behind her. When he put his hands on her shoulders, she turned around to look into his eyes. Still saying nothing, he enveloped her in an embrace and kissed her. As their mouths touched, she could taste the cigar and the faint remains of alcohol...gin, she guessed. She could always pick out the distinct taste of the drink, for it reminded her of Christmas, tasting of evergreen trees.
As she pulled away, she looked into his blue-gray eyes and knew what he wanted. She turned her back to him and pulled her hair to the side. He began to undo the line of buttons of her dress.
~***~
Afterward, she lay on her side facing wall, Spot was behind her, sleeping. She was uncomfortable, the bed hard and lumpy, much unlike her own was making her side ache and her arm underneath the pillow had long fallen asleep, but she refrained from moving in order to not disturb Spot. She turned her head slightly to smell the pillow and sighed. The entire bed smelled of sex, perfume, and smoke. She heart suddenly lurched and dropped into her stomach as she thought of all the other girls that had been there before her. Spot began to move, he moaned softly and tightened his hold around her waist, pulling her into him.
With his slight motion, she forgot about all the other girls and the discomfort of her body. She could feel no pain anymore, and it was as he once said, "I'm here with you, nothing hurts." She felt her heart swell and her love for him grew inside of her, so much so that for the first time, it journeyed to her lips and passed through. "I love you," she whispered to him, knowing that he couldn't hear her, but hoping that he would have subconsciously have heard and know. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.
Just as she had finally begun to doze off, Spot awoke. "Jo," he whispered in his still sleep-laden voice, "shouldn't we be gettin' ya home now? S'late."
"No, I think I'll just say here tonight."
"Ya shoah?" he asked, "I don't wanna get you in trouble or nothin'."
"Yes."
"Alright," he said, kissing her cheek and lying down to go back to sleep.
~***~
The next morning, Spot offered to walk her back, but she refused. She wanted to walk by herself, to take in and reflect everything that had happened the previous night. She took her time walking back, her feet seemingly not touching the ground as she floated down the sidewalks.
She came across a newsie of only about 9 or 10. "Buy me pape, Miss?" he asked her, and though Lily never bothered reading any newspaper, she bought one from the boy, paid him a nickel and told him to keep the difference.
When her leisurely paced step finally led her back to the theatre and she went in, she was greeted by Eva, the new girl. Eva was smirking and had a smug, satisfied look on her face. "Mr. Mantovanni wants to see ya right away," she said, still smiling smugly, "He's in his office." Her tone indicated that something wonderful could not possibly be in store for Lily.
"Alright," Lily said, making her way to the office. As she walked away, she could feel Eva's eyes on her, boring holes into the back of her head.
~***~
To be continued...
Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.
The ticking of the clock penetrated the silent, still dark in the room. Lily was unable to sleep. She lay in Spot's arms and watched the ambiguous, nighttime shadows dance across her walls. He had not stirred in some time, and his gentle, even breathing suggested that he had already entered into a state of peaceful slumber. Lily dared not to move for fear of waking him. Instead she remained at his side, still and unmoving, lost in her thoughts.
A wind blew through the window that Spot was accustomed to leaving open. Lily shivered. "Dammit, Spot," she mouthed, almost silently, "why can't you for once just close the damn window?" She pulled the covers around her more tightly, and returned to her thoughts. Realizing that she was no closer to sleep than she was an hour ago, and pressing ideas weighing heavily on her mind, she spoke. "Spot?" she said softly.
He stirred slightly and moaned, but did not reply. Thinking that he must still be asleep, she tried again. "Spot?" she said more loudly.
He moaned once again, but this time he opened his eyes. "Mmmmmm, whaddya want?" he asked groggily, his annoyance at being awakened showing in his voice.
She paused, now thinking herself silly for having woken him up. She bit at the skin around her thumbnail before finally speaking. "Spot, do you ever think of leaving?"
"Whah, like leavin' Brooklyn?" he said, his voice still heavy with sleep.
"Yes, like leaving Brooklyn. Like leaving New York, even. Going to, oh, I don't know... Paris, or Italy, or...Pennsylvania, even. Somewhere better than here."
"Nah."
"Never?"
"Nah."
Lily was silent again. "I don't think we should see each other for a while," she finally said.
"You, you what?" Spot questioned, as awake as he could manage and propping himself up on one arm so that he could see Lily's face. "Did I do somethin'? Cause ya'd tell me if I did, right? Right? Ya'd tell me?" He had begun to sound a bit panicked in his confusion.
"No," she replied, "It's not that you did or didn't do anything. It's just that, well, you know, well....the girls are beginning to talk..and, and then there's this new girl, Eva, and I don't think she's very fond of me...no, fond would definitely not be the word I'd use. She's seems a bit, um, how can I say this, well, she's seems like she's got some hidden agenda become the star of New York in two weeks, flat. And well, since I'm standing in her way a bit, and from the way that she looks at me, I can't help but think that she's harbouring some kind of secret plan to ruin me. So, if she found out about us, since you know, I'm not exactly allowed to see you.... if she found out about us, then she'd surely go and tell Mantovanni and then, of course, that would be the end of my career, and I'd have to take up residence on the street or get some horrid job in a factory making not nearly enough and everything would just end very, very badly. So, as I said before, I think it best if we don't see each other for a while. Just for a few days, to try to maybe lessen the chances of me being found out, and being thrown out onto the street, and then having to live in the gutters, and general tragedy ensuing by-"
"Wait, wait, hold on, yer makin' me head spin. Now, lemme see if I got dis straight - you'se sayin' dat we can't see each udder for a few days cause some goil who don't like ya too much might go an' tattle on ya, and den you might get thrown out on dah street?"
"Yes, that's basically what I'm saying."
Spot narrowed his eyes. "Alright, so one more time, lemme see if I understand dis.you ain't allowed to see me and if dah big shot boss guy 'round heah finds out dat you are, he's gonna throw ya out?"
Lily nodded.
"An' why dah hell didn't ya tell me dis befoah? Dat you seein' me could get ya in trouble..."
"Well," Lily began, "it's not as if I'm technically not forbidden to see you or anyone else for that matter. It's just that.." She sighed and closed her eyes, realizing how silly and superficial her next words would sound. "Mr. Mantovanni," she began, "doesn't... particularly like for us to see men, if the men we are seeing are not able to financially invest in the theatre. Let me put this another way - this theatre thrives on its male patrons, especially the patrons that infatuated with any of us. Mantovanni prefers that we either remain unattached so that we can appear more available to the throngs of men, or that we attach ourselves to wealthy men. For, in either case, money will come into the theatre, either by admission to shows, or donations. And as you can probably see, this works out to both his and our advantages. He pockets a good deal of it, and we who are dependent on the theatre for, well, everything get to continue living a fairly comfortable lifestyle. Now, in my years of being here, he's never thrown a girl out on the street, but I would not put such a thing out of his reach. He's got ways of punishing those who disregard his code of conduct, and the punishments are not very nice. So, either way, it's quite important that I stay in his good graces in order to continue working here. And I cannot let a silly, ambitious little girl ruin it because I wasn't behaving intelligently enough to watch my step and prevent such a thing from happening."
"Jo, why didn't ya just tell me dis befoah?"
"Why should I have? It's such a silly, stupid thing, and it's not as though telling you could have actually changed anything."
"Still, it ain't right for ya tah go witholdin' stuff like dat from me." Spot was becoming annoyed.
Lily scoffed. "Well, it's not like you tell me every little thing either...." Spot groaned. "..and don't you make that face, Conlon, you know it's true. There's so many things that you haven't told me."
"Like what?"
"Oh, you want me to name one?"
"Yeah, I do. Go 'head and name somethun'" Spot challenged.
"Well, like your name for one. What is your real name anyway?"
"It's Spot."
"Oh, I don't believe you. You're so incredibly full of shit, Conlon. You really expect me to believe that at birth your mother actually named you Spot?"
"Yeah."
"Liar."
"Shaddup. Me name is Spot. Period." He paused. "Whaddabout you? Ya ain't told me yer last name eithah."
She laughed. "No, I'm not telling you. You're not getting out of this. I asked you first."
"Why do we gotta be talkin' bout dis now? I ain't talkin' no more. Leave me alone, and lemme sleep fuh Crissakes." He laid back down on his side and turned away from her.
"You're just evading the question. You never tell me anything, and then you get mad, no, you get all caught up in a full blow murderous rage when I don't tell you every little detail about every little thing."
"Shaddup, Jo," he warned, his voice muffled by the pillow.
"Fine, have it your way. I just won't talk to you at all." With a huff, she laid back down angrily, but did not close her eyes. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, silently fuming at Spot's stubbornness.
After what seemed like eternity, she heard Spot say quietly, without turning around, "Nathaniel."
"August," was her reply.
Suddenly, Spot sat up and looked at her. "Yer name's Josephine August?"
"Yes. Josephine Margot August. Why?"
"Nutthin, it just sounds like somethin' out of a book or something. Josephine August."
Lily shrugged.
Spot's mood suddenly changed as a sly smile came over his face. "Hey, uh, Josephine August, since we ain't gonna be seein' each udder for a little while, how's about you and me...."
~***~
A few days later, Lily was sitting in the private sitting room of the theatre in between shows reading Tess of the D'urbervilles again, when an envelope was dropped into her lap. She looked up from her book to see Mantovanni standing in front of her. Picking up the envelope and eyeing it, she asked, "What's this?"
"It's an invitation," he said straightening his glasses, "to a dinner party that the 42 Street Brannicks are having Thursday night. They like to consider themselves patrons of the arts, especially the performing arts. Vaudeville they find the most entertaing. It seems as though they, or I should probably infer that it's Mr. Brannick, have been longtime admirers of yours and are wishing to make your acquaintance. They're new money and probably most undoubtedly looking for something or shall I say, someone, which to spend it on. Therefore, I suggest that you do attend."
"A dinner party," Lily said with fake enthusiasm and a forced smile, "how lovely."
"Now, Miss Fox, do you have something appropriate to wear or shall you be needing to purchase something?"
"With all due respect, I do believe, Mr. Mantovanni, that I can manage."
"Very well," said Mantovanni, turning to leave. He was almost out of the door, when he stopped to add one last thing. "Oh, Miss Fox, you will notice that the invitation states that you may bring a guest. Might I suggest that you bring another female...For, you see, the Brannicks have three sons of marrying age, who, I am sure, are seeking a wife."
"I shall take your opinion into consideration. Thank you."
Mantovanni nodded and proceeded out of the door. As soon as he was out of sight, Lily rolled her eyes and sighed.
She opened the cream-coloured envelope to find another cream-coloured card inside. It had gold embossed writing, and read:
Mr. and Mrs. Edward Brannick
Of 1187 42 Street
Request the honor of your company
At their home
On Thursday, October 11, 1900
At 7 o'clock pm.
"Grand, just grand," Lily thought to herself. She didn't want to go to some dinner party thrown by some rich old couple putting on airs as though they had been born into luxury. She didn't want to meet their three equally rich and equally eligible sons. She knew what would happen. They would meet her and act as though they were delighted to partake in an "intelligent" conversation with her involving the weather and how poor of a job the mayor was doing. Then, at the first available opportunity, they'd lead her to a piano and ask her to sing a few songs for them. After the songs, they'd offer her a glass of wine and then introduce her to their sons after she was a bit tipsy. Yes, she knew how it would go. And though everything in her screamed in protest against it, she knew she would go, because she was obligated to.
Sighing deeply, she closed her book, rose from her chair, and headed upstairs. When she arrived at Faye's door, she knocked and awaited her answer.
She heard Faye's usual, "Entre!" and swung open the door to find her sewing lace onto the collar of an old blouse. Faye's favourite thing in the world was clothing. She spent every minute of her free time making new outfits or improving upon her old ones.
"What do you think?" Faye asked, holding up the blouse to show Lily her handiwork, "Is it too much?"
"It looks just like you, Faye," Lily answered, still standing in the doorframe.
"Good," said Faye returning to her sewing, "that was my intention."
"Listen Faye," Lily began, "I know that you are just dying to do this, so I'm going to ask you right now and spare you the agony of waiting. Would you like to come to a dinner party with me Thursday night?"
"No," said Faye, not looking up.
"But, oh, Faye, you have to go. Because I have to go. A few minutes ago, Mantovanni waltzed by and flung this invitation to the Brannicks' dinner party in my lap, and he basically demands, without actually demanding, that I attend and that I attend with another girl so as not to jeopardize meeting their three rich, creepy sons! So, please Faye, don't make me go alone. I'll just die! Please, you have to come with me. Faye, please! I'm begging!"
"Oh, alright, fine! Just stop groveling, will you?" Faye said, sounding annoyed. "Well, at least it will give me an opportunity to wear that blue dress I've just finished working on." She looked up at Lily, and said, "That is, assuming that my 'date' approves.."
"Oh, Faye, I don't give a damn what you wear. I'm just so happy right now that I could kiss you!" Lily replied.
~***~
Ting, ting, ting.
"Excuse me everyone," Mrs. Brannick called out as she tapped a knife on the side of her champagne class several more times, "we have some newcomers to our little gathering tonight. Please join me in welcoming Miss Lily Fox and Miss Faye Monroe!"
"Hear, hear!" someone bellowed, as the room erupted in chatter and the clanking of glasses.
Lily and Faye had been standing in a corner of the large, ornately decorated room, in an attempt to go unnoticed and perhaps escape the frivolous small talk with the upper class strangers gathered there that night. They both softly groaned at Mrs. Brannick's announcement, but donned wide, winning smiles when everyone in the room raised their glasses to toast them.
Out of the corner of her eye, Faye saw Mrs. Brannick heading over to where they were standing. She had three young men closely following behind her. "Don't look now," Faye said under her breath, "but over your left shoulder, something wicked this way comes. And it's looks as though she's bringing her three sons with her. I'm sure we'll soon be hearing a discourse on what fine husbands they will make." Lily only had time to curl her lip in disgust before their hostess was upon them.
"Oh, Miss Fox!" Mrs, Brannick squealed upon reaching them, "Miss Fox, I'd like you to meet my sons. This is Edward Jr, he's the oldest. Henry, and then Tom, Thomas our youngest. Edward is a lawyer, quite a successful one at that, I might add.and our Tom's at Havard studying..."
Lily tuned out what Mrs. Brannick was saying to her. Still smiling and nodding as though she were paying attention, she became lost in her own thoughts and her mind wandered back to Spot. The past week had felt like an eternity as she constantly tried to find things to do, to busy herself so that she might take her mind off of him. She'd been through six books, tidied her room several times, mended the tears in her clothing, and sewed lace on collars and sleeves with Faye. Despite all of that, rehearsals (several in which she had to teach Eva, the new bitch of a girl a few routines), and performances, her efforts to become forgetful failed. She found herself thinking of Spot at every possible, and sometimes every quite inopportune, moment, and wondering what good this separation could be doing. Of course, it was accomplishing her stated purpose of keeping herself out of trouble, but it didn't seem as though she were in any danger. Eva was quite content in bettering herself though constant rehearsals and general brown-nosing toward Mantovanni that it didn't seem that she'd noticed Lily's illicit affair.
Her unspoken motive had been accomplished also. She'd kept this reason from Spot, but it was her foremost reason for suggesting time apart. She was afraid, deathly and terribly afraid that he would get tired of her. From his past, Lily knew that Spot did not possess a particularly long attention span when it came to girls. It seemed to her as though she were just waiting for him to lose interest in her also. She didn't like the ominous feeling of dread that she got while waiting for her "turn" to go, and she though that if she could do something to prevent it, she would. So, she had. And where had it gotten her? The answer was a resounding nowhere. She had gotten nowhere but miserable. Was it even worth it? Was her self- imposed misery and longing for him worth trying to save the bond between them that she was not even sure was in jeopardy?
"...sing for us after dinner. Won't you dear?" Mrs. Brannick had finally finished her long winded monologue and was now addressing a question to Lily. She hadn't heard the first part, in fact, she hadn't heard very much of what Mrs. Brannick had said at all. However, she did not need Mrs. Brannick to repeat what she had previously said in order to know what was asked. Lily had heard the request time after time.
"I'd be very happy to," she responded, "and I'm certain that Faye would love to accompany me." Lily didn't need to turn around to picture the look of disgust plaguing Faye's face as she aimed bolts of lightning from her eyes Lily's head for being volunteered to participate in the wretched act of schmoozing that they both hated so much.
"Wonderful, then it's settled. I'll inform my dear cousin, Jonathan, that his piano playing expertise will be showcased tonight. I'm sure he'll be delighted!" Mrs. Brannick skipped off in utter joy to inform her cousin that of his appointment.
"I hate you," Faye growled at Lily.
"Oh, go to hell," Lily responded cheerily.
~***~
After the dinner party was over, and the two captives were released from the Brannick home, they hurriedly set off for the theatre. Faye chattered away about the awfulness of the event and everyone there, but Lily was quiet, an idea forming in her mind.
"And did you see that Miss Chapman's dress? Oh, it was hilarious! She looked like a peacock!" Faye exclaimed, laughing.
They had reached the theatre and Faye and Lily turned and went into the lobby.
Lily emerged a moment later, calling out over her shoulder, "Yes, Faye, I'm sure. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine!"
She pulled her cloak tightly around her and began walking.
~***~
Lily was about halfway to her destination when the sky that had been threatening rain for days finally opened up and poured its contents down upon her. She shivered as she put the hood of her cloak over her head and pulled it closer and more tightly around her body.
Her attempts to keep herself dry failed completely. For, by the time she had reached the door of the Brooklyn Newsboys Lodging House and pushed it open, she was completely soaked. As she entered the dimly lit room, the old man at the desk looked up at her, his surprise to see a soaking wet girl wandering into the lodging house at such a late hour evident on his face. Lily removed her hood, found her voice, and murmured, "Spot Conlon?"
"Upstairs," the man replied, pointing.
Lily looked left, where the man had pointed, and her eyes fell upon a dark staircase. "Thank you," she said softly.
As Lily walked up the creaking staircase, she realized how silly she must have seemed. How many times must other girls come through that door to inquire about Spot's whereabouts, just as she had done? How many times must the old man have directed those same girls up the stairs, just as he had done for her?
The old wooden planks of the stairs creaked under her step as she climbed higher. Her heart began to race as she pushed wet strands of hair off of her face. When she reached the top, she could see a light coming from a room down the hall to her left. Nervousness suddenly took over her as she paused at the top and she began to bite at her thumb's cuticle. Resolving that she'd never leave her current position if she did not overcome her now overwhelming fear, she gathered up every ounce of her courage and began to walk toward the lighted room.
When she pushed open the door, every boy's face in the room turned toward her. They were mostly all sitting on the floor in a circle, the ragged group of them, smoking and drinking, cards and various items in the middle of the circle. A few were sitting on the surrounding bunks, watching the ones on the floor. Lily had obviously interrupted their poker game and now they were all turned toward her, the frightened looking girl standing mute, soaking and dripping in their doorway, awaiting to find out the reason for the sudden interruption.
She looked around at all of their unfamiliar faces before her eyes finally lit on a recognizable one. To the far right, leaning against and almost hidden by a bunk bed sat Spot, wearing only trousers and an unbuttoned shirt. His unused suspenders were still attached to his pants and a cigar hung from his lips. His face was as startled as the other boys,' but a slight smile played on his lips. He threw his hand into the middle of the pile. "Deal me outta dis one fellas," he said, rising to his feet and walking toward the door.
Realizing what a mess she must be, Lily quickly pushed the wet, matted curls off of her face and straightened her skirt in an attempt to pull herself back together before Spot reached her. When he did reach her, he said nothing, but gently pushed her out into the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. It was dark, but Lily could see Spot's right eyebrow rise as his expression questioned her silently. She opened her mouth to speak, but Spot silenced her with a "Ssh," and a wave of his hand. "Not heah," he whispered, "dere all listenin at the door."
He nodded in the direction over her left shoulder. Taking her elbow, he led her past one door, and onto the second, which he opened, went into, and then shut behind them. The room was completely pitch black. Lily stood in one place so as not to trip over anything. She heard Spot fumble around for something, then the sound of a match being stuck as Spot lit a lamp, which he hung from a hook in the ceiling.
Lily squinted her eyes, letting them focus. She could now make out that she was in a bedroom that contained one set of bunk beds, though the top bunk seemed to be never used. There was a chair and a dresser with a cracked mirror and a few assorted objects on the top, one of them being a slingshot, another an empty alcohol bottle. Beside the dresser, was a very rugged looking square trunk with a pair of worn shoes beside it. A few newspaper clippings and pictures lined the walls. It was Spot's own private room, she deduced. Her conclusion was reinforced when her eyes fell on the cane lying on the floor beside the bed. The air in the room was musty and smelled of cigar and old wood.
Spot walked over to the dresser and snubbed out his cigar in a tin cup. He turned back to face Lily and finally spoke, his voice low and gravelly, " So, whaddaya doin' heah?"
Lily started to answer the question. "Well, I-," But as she began to speak she noticed a picture, clipped from a paper, no doubt, pinned to the wall behind Spot. She walked over to it to inspect it more carefully. Inspecting it, she smiled as her suspicions were confirmed. She had thought she had seen Spot in the right hand side of the picture, and sure enough, it was actually he. As she scanned the picture once more, she recognized Jack, Race, Blink, and many other boys that she had met at the party in the pub weeks ago. "Spot, is this you?" she asked, knowing the answer.
"Yeah," he replied, coming over to her.
"I thought so." She laughed, "Look at you, you're so small here, and skinny!" She read over the accompanying article that detailed the strike of last year. "Oh, I remember hearing about this," she said.
"Look, Jo, I know ya didn't come all dah way ovah heah in the pourin' rain to talk about dah strike last yeah and how skinny I was."
"No. You're right," Lily said quietly. She took off her wet cloak and draped it on the back of the chair.
"That's some dress," Spot said, "ya been at some pahty or somethin'?"
"Yes, actually. That's part of the reason why I'm here." She paused to look at Spot, who was seated on the bottom bunk, watching her every move. "I, um..,"she cleared her throat and looked at the floor, her reason for being there suddenly seeming silly and weak - so much so that she became embarrassed and did not want to tell him. She could feel her cheeks start to burn, for she knew he was still staring at her, awaiting her answer. "You see," she began again, "I went to this dinner party given by the Brannicks. Have you heard of them? No? Well, they're horribly rich, of course, and invited me to the dinner party, as I've said already. Mr. Mantovanni thinks it is a good career move, for both my career and his, so I went. And it was, well, it went fine, you know, as fine as dinner parties can be -," she stopped and looked up at him, looked into his blue eyes and suddenly felt that she had to tell him the truth, she had to give him the reason why she'd trudged all the way in the rain and why she'd go even more if she had to. "Spot, I'm lying. It was horrid. It was horribly boring and uncomfortable. And I know that I said that we needed to spend some time away from each other and everything, but the entire time, the only thing I could think of was you, and how much I would have rather been in my room, lying in your arms, instead of eating any fabulously prepared, decadent seven course meal with any rich persons who could further my career!"
Spot didn't answer her. He remained seated and silent, continuing his stare.
"God," started Lily again, embarrassed and hating herself for appearing so dependent and weak, " now you think I'm pathetic. Pathetic and silly. And stupid. Bloody hell. I should have just..I shouldn't have come." She turned away from him so that she he couldn't see her face.
Spot quietly rose from his seat and came up behind her. When he put his hands on her shoulders, she turned around to look into his eyes. Still saying nothing, he enveloped her in an embrace and kissed her. As their mouths touched, she could taste the cigar and the faint remains of alcohol...gin, she guessed. She could always pick out the distinct taste of the drink, for it reminded her of Christmas, tasting of evergreen trees.
As she pulled away, she looked into his blue-gray eyes and knew what he wanted. She turned her back to him and pulled her hair to the side. He began to undo the line of buttons of her dress.
~***~
Afterward, she lay on her side facing wall, Spot was behind her, sleeping. She was uncomfortable, the bed hard and lumpy, much unlike her own was making her side ache and her arm underneath the pillow had long fallen asleep, but she refrained from moving in order to not disturb Spot. She turned her head slightly to smell the pillow and sighed. The entire bed smelled of sex, perfume, and smoke. She heart suddenly lurched and dropped into her stomach as she thought of all the other girls that had been there before her. Spot began to move, he moaned softly and tightened his hold around her waist, pulling her into him.
With his slight motion, she forgot about all the other girls and the discomfort of her body. She could feel no pain anymore, and it was as he once said, "I'm here with you, nothing hurts." She felt her heart swell and her love for him grew inside of her, so much so that for the first time, it journeyed to her lips and passed through. "I love you," she whispered to him, knowing that he couldn't hear her, but hoping that he would have subconsciously have heard and know. She closed her eyes and tried to fall asleep.
Just as she had finally begun to doze off, Spot awoke. "Jo," he whispered in his still sleep-laden voice, "shouldn't we be gettin' ya home now? S'late."
"No, I think I'll just say here tonight."
"Ya shoah?" he asked, "I don't wanna get you in trouble or nothin'."
"Yes."
"Alright," he said, kissing her cheek and lying down to go back to sleep.
~***~
The next morning, Spot offered to walk her back, but she refused. She wanted to walk by herself, to take in and reflect everything that had happened the previous night. She took her time walking back, her feet seemingly not touching the ground as she floated down the sidewalks.
She came across a newsie of only about 9 or 10. "Buy me pape, Miss?" he asked her, and though Lily never bothered reading any newspaper, she bought one from the boy, paid him a nickel and told him to keep the difference.
When her leisurely paced step finally led her back to the theatre and she went in, she was greeted by Eva, the new girl. Eva was smirking and had a smug, satisfied look on her face. "Mr. Mantovanni wants to see ya right away," she said, still smiling smugly, "He's in his office." Her tone indicated that something wonderful could not possibly be in store for Lily.
"Alright," Lily said, making her way to the office. As she walked away, she could feel Eva's eyes on her, boring holes into the back of her head.
~***~
To be continued...