Part VIII
Lily pushed Spot away abruptly and quickly wiped the tears that had begun to fall from her eyes and face. A sudden feeling of utter embarrassment had attacked her. Spot was a bit startled at the abruptness of her withdrawal. "Oh, God, there I go being pathetic and overly emotional again. I'm sorry..I didn't mean to be so dramatic and woe is me...Ugh, I am such a mess!" She stood up and walked around the room, running her fingers through her hair and trying to shed the humiliation she had caused herself by outwardly being a basket case. She paused to yawn and stretch. "God, it's late isn't it?" She made her way back to the bed and Spot. "We should getting back to bed."
"Um, actually Jo," Spot said, rising, "I think I'm just gonna, uh, go back to dah house and sleep dere tonight instead."
A confused look came over her face, and she wrinkled her brow. She was amazed at his sudden transformation. One moment he was loving and gentle, tending to her and trying to comfort her, and now, in an instant, he had changed to cold and distant, indifferent and almost uncaring. Was it her? Had she done something wrong, said something wrong? Did her outward display of emotion turn him off and make him think she was nothing more than a whiny pathetic little girl? She wanted to object and question him, but she knew how Spot could be. He'd start off acting a little strangely, and then at any moment, he was liable to suddenly blow up, especially if the wrong thing were said to him. "But-but it's raining," she stuttered, "Are you sure you want to go out in that?"
"Ah, what's a liddle watah?" he shrugged, as he put on his right shoe and then stood to pull his suspenders up. He placed his cap on his head and leaned over to kiss Lily's cheek, and her face fell as he did so. He was really leaving. He was actually going to climb out of the window and leave now, and there was nothing that she could do. She had just bared her soul to him, told him everything, and he was just going to leave her. She struggled to think of something subtle and suitable to say, something that would keep him there with her without him feeling as though she were begging him to stay.
"And I won't be comin' round tomorrah eiddah. I got a few liddle things that need takin' care of," Spot said, as he walked to his open window. He turned around to look at Lily and smile goodbye. "Aw Jo," he said, noticing the upset look on her face, "now don't gimme dat look, not dat sad face."
"I can't help it," she answered, still sulking, "it's the only face I've got."
Spot laughed, a snorting, little laugh through his nose. He walked back over to her and used his index finger to tip up her chin. "Cheer up, sweetface," he said, "dah woild ain't cavin' in on ya." Lily cringed at the word "sweetface" and Spot smiled and exhaled a little snort-like laugh in response. With another slight smile, he'd turned and disappeared out of the window.
Lily's lip curled in disgust. She hated when he called her "sweetface." He only did it when he'd wanted to get the best of her, and when he said it, he'd only use that patronizing tone. She grabbed for the nearest thing that she could reach, which happened to be a book, and flung it violently against the wall. "Damn you, Spot Conlon!" she said in anger, "damn you for making me pour my heart out to you and then leaving me directly after! Aargh. If I didn't like you so much, I'd swear I hate you." She paused. "And damn you for making me like you!"
She crossed her arms, furrowed her brow, and glared at the book she'd thrown that was now resting on the floor, half open. As she continued to glare at the book, her expression softened. She stood up, went over to the book, and stooped down to pick it up. Returning it to its previous place, she flopped down on the bed and buried her face in her hands.
"Why did you do that?" she asked herself, "Why? You didn't have to tell him anything! He didn't make you tell him anything! But no, you go and let your little sad, sob story come spilling out of your mouth and you cry and make yourself look like a fool! And then you wonder why he leaves! Damn you, Josephine! I hate you!"
She could feel the hot tears stinging her eyes again, and she angrily wiped them away. "No!" she said, "Not that again! Get ahold of yourself!" Two years ago, she'd spent nearly every waking moment sobbing until her chest ached and her eyes were dry. After that she'd swore she'd never cry again, and she'd kept her promise faithfully. Now was not the time to break it. "God, you don't have any reason to cry! Now, just calm down. Breathe. There is nothing wrong. He just wanted to go back to the house. There's nothing odd about that. That's no reason to get upset. Everything is fine. Tomorrow will be better. You just need to go to sleep until tomorrow. That's right, go to sleep."
Knowing quite well that there was no way that she could possibly fall asleep immediately if she simply laid in bed and shut her eyes, she walked over to her desk to grab her current favourite book, Tess of the D'Urbervilles, so that she might re-read it. She crawled into bed and pulled the covers up around her. After lighting the lamp on her bedside table, she opened the book and began to read. "On an evening in the latter part of May a middle-aged man was walking homeward from Shaston to the village of Marlott, in the adjoining Vale of Blakemore or Blackmoor..." She'd barely made it past the opening lines before she stopped reading and scowled. No, Tess was not doing its job. Though she'd loved it the last three times she had read it, tonight it didn't feel right.
Turning in the direction of the lamp, she spotted a book on her bedside table. The spine read The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. It was the book she'd thrown earlier. "Nathaniel," she said to herself and laughed. Nathaniel - Spot's name. How fitting. She'd been meaning to read it for some time, but hadn't found the desire to do so. Perhaps now was the perfect time to begin it. Sighing and shrugging, she picked up the book. Opening it, and thumbing past the first few pages, she reached the opening lines of the novel: "A throng of bearded men, in sad-colored garments and gray, steeple-crowned hats, intermixed with women, some wearing hoods, and others bareheaded, was assembled in front of a wooden edifice, the door of which was heavily timbered with oak, and studded with iron spikes."
~***~ "Spot! Hey Spot! Wait up!"
Spot stopped in his tracks and looked behind him to see Jack running up to him.
"Hey, s'mattah? You deaf or somethin'? I been hollerin' at ya for the last two blocks!" Jack said, out of breath.
Spot shrugged and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. "Sorry Cowboy. I must notta hoid ya," he answered with an air of indifference.
"Whattaya doin' round dese parts anyway?" Jack asked.
"I dunno. Walkin,' I guess." In truth, Spot had just been walking. He'd been walking since eleven that morning. After he'd sold his last of 50 papers, he'd started without knowing where exactly he intended to go or for how long. He had just walked and walked and somehow, he'd ended up in Manhattan.
"Hey, ya hungry?" Jack asked.
"Nah," he replied. "Sides, I ain't got hardly any money anyway. Been blowin' nearly every last penny on dese damn things." He gestured toward the cigarette in his right hand. It'd been days since he'd last left Lily. In those days, he'd hardly done anything except sell his papers, eat a few bites every now and then, and smoke.
Spot offered the cigarette to Jack. Jack accepted it and took a drag. Handing it back to Spot, "Hey, what's wrong wit you dese days, Spot?"
"Whattaya mean?"
"Well," Jack began, "I'se seen you tree times in dah last week, and ev'ry time all you do is mope. Mope and smoke and sit dere wit dat sour look on ya face. And den, dere's dat one liddle incident dat I don't particu'ly like tah tawk about, but, uh, a few weeks ago ya practically tried tah kill me fuh no good reason. Yah remembah dat one, Spot? Huh? An' so anyways, I was just wonderin' if dere was anytin' you'd like to, I dunno, get off ya chest, maybe."
Spot stared at Jack for a moment before a short and direct, "Nah" came from his lips.
It's that girl, thought Jack. It had to be. Since he'd become entangled with her, Spot hadn't been the same. He wasn't the same, old fun loving Spot he was used to: the Spot that was always up for a game of poker or getting drunk with the boys, the Spot that could always win the prettiest girl in the room and be done with her in one week, then go back to looking the next. True, he did have quite a temper and could sulk and fume better than anyone Jack knew, but these last few weeks he'd never seen Spot so reclusive, so quiet and private, and perhaps so blatantly unhappy.
Jack could recognize the look in Spot's eyes. It was a familiar one. Jack had seen it in his own eyes after Sarah's betrayal two months ago. It was the mark of hurt and confusion, masked by an air of indifference. Yes, it had to be that girl.
"It's dat goil, ain't it?" Jack's attempt to hold his tongue failed as the words flew past his lips before he had realized what he'd done.
Spot turned around to face him. He raised his right eyebrow and stared at Jack. Jack braced himself for an explosion of Spot's temper or something of the sort. Instead Spot laughed. "Yeah, maybe," he said. Jack faked a small laugh, though he couldn't manage to see the humor.
"Hey Jacky-boy," Spot said. He was smiling - it was a devilish grin that was familiar to Jack and he was glad to see it. Spot finished his sentence, "You wanna go back to Brooklyn and see a liddle show? There's one I been meanin' to check out."
"Shoah, Spot," Jack replied, smiling genuinely this time, "Shoah."
~***~ "Lil, you almost ready? It's time to go." Annabel stood in the doorway, fully dressed and ready as she waited for Lily to join her and the rest of the girls.
"Almost," Lily replied. She leaned over the dressing table and took one last look in the mirror as she pushed a curl back off of her forehead and rubbed off a bit of lipstick that had strayed outside of the lines. Examining herself once more in the mirror, she wrinkled her nose in displeasure and sighed. "Oh, I give up," she said and walked swiftly out of the door.
By the time she'd reached the stage, she could hear the announcer's voice begin to boom. She quickly climbed up the stairs and joined the other girls, taking her place at the back of the line. Eva still wasn't nearly up to taking Lily's place, so she still did a few numbers with the rest of the girls and performed her solo act directly after. With the rustle of skirts and the clatter of high-heeled shoes, the girls shimmied out onto the stage and began their first number.
Lily breezed through the numbers she performed with the rest of the girls. They were old and familiar. She was comfortable with them, so they came easily to her. When it had reached the time for her solo performance, she could feel her stomach tying herself in knots as the nervousness set in. She'd been performing alone for only a week, and she was still vastly frightened that she would hit a wrong note, forget the words to the song, or stumble without the other girls there to mask her error. She wrung her hands as she waited backstage during the break in between performances. Mentally, she was rehearsing the words to her song, a new song that she'd never performed.
Faye came up behind her. "Are you ready?" she asked.
"Oh Faye, don't make me do it! I can't go out there!" Lily pleaded with her best friend.
"You can and you will!" Faye responded, "Oh, come on. It's not that bad. You've done it five times already-"
"Six," Lily interrupted.
"Alright, six. You've done it six times already and each time it's gone beautifully."
"So far," retorted Lily, "But Faye, what if this time I forget the words..or, or I trip or something..or what if they boo me and then the entire audience climbs up onstage and riots!"
"Then you just go with it. Whatever happens, smile and keep going," Faye said reassuringly, "and just for the record, I highly doubt that the audience will climb onstage or riot, so you can forget about that."
The band had started up again, signaling that the time for Lily to go back onstage had come. The announcer's voice started her introduction. Faye smiled at her and said, "Go get 'em."
Lily plastered a fake smile on her face and tried to convince herself that she wasn't going to vomit as she sauntered out onto the stage. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She had done this six times already, as Faye had reminded her - six times. Yet she'd never felt this panicky before any of the other performances. Not even before her very first had such a feeling of nervousness and dread filled her. She paused in the middle of the stage as she waited for the piano's cue. "Calm down," she told herself, "just keep breathing. You will be fine!"
She heard three distinct notes that signaled the slow intro to her song and opened her mouth to sing,
"I want a man to love me
Oh, someone to hold me
Softly, sweetly, gently, tenderly
Someone who'll care of me
Never leave me and be strong
When everything's gone wrong."
As she glanced up, her eyes wandered to the right balcony, where a familiar set of stone blue eyes met hers. Spot. Her Spot. He was there. He'd been gone for nearly a week and a half, but her was there now, watching her. Her heart jumped and the knots in her stomach turned to the flutter of butterflies. Her smiled widened as she continued to sing, now more confidently,
"Oh, I want a man to kiss me
How I need a man to miss me
All the day through
But let me say, in this way
That I prefer a man who lives
to give expensive jewels."
The music quickened, and Lily began to feel more comfortable. Everything was going along swimmingly. She just had to keep going.
"Oh I want a man to love me
A man with lots of money.."
Spot watched her as she sang. Jack was sitting beside him, smiling, tapping his foot, and clearly enjoying himself, but Spot hardly noticed him. She was beautiful. Yes, that was undeniably obvious. He felt riveted to her, as though he couldn't take his eyes away from her for one second. Watching her down there, shining and shimmering, he'd felt as though he'd begun to fall in love with her again, as though nothing could possibly go wrong with a girl like that. No man could want for anything more with a girl like Lily on his arm, right? His eyes still following her every move, he'd forgotten that he'd ever had any doubt or any inkling of a problem. Almost.
As Lily stopped singing for the instrumental break in her song, she noticed something move out of the corner of her left eye. As she turned to investigate the motion, she saw a neatly dressed man, probably a student at the university, climbing onto the stage. Her panicky feeling immediately returned and intensified. "Oh, God!" she thought, "They're rioting!"
The man must have not saw the fear in her eyes, for he walked right up to her, bowed, and offered her his hand. Lily didn't know what to do. Faye's words immediately came to mind. "Whatever happens, smile and keep going," she had said. "Alright Faye," Lily thought, "I'll smile and keep going." She smiled and took the young man's hand. He took it and began to dance with her onstage.
A few other men, following the first's lead, suddenly climbed on the stage and began to take turns dancing with Lily. Lily laughed as they approached her one by one, taking each's hand and letting them lead her around the stage. The crowd cheered and applauded as they became part of the act themselves. The band took a cue from the audience's delight and extended the originally short instrumental break. "What the- " Spot exclaimed from high in his balcony seat as he learned over the railing to observe the swarm of men now dancing with his girl. He was about to laugh, but the humor faded from the situation when Spot saw one of the men lean over and kiss Lily on the lips. She gently pushed him away and wagged her finger to scold the bold youth, but it was too late. The audience stood up to cheer and clap wildly at the man's gall and bravery, but Spot could not do so. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, and his face fell into an utterly disgusted scowl. He opened his frowning mouth to let a single, whispered, "Bitch," fall from them before he abruptly stood up from his chair, knocking it over in the process, and left.
"Hey, Spot, where ya-" Jack began, as he watched his friend leave. For a moment he considered following him, but shrugged off the idea and thought, "Nah, Spot can take care of himself." He returned his attention to the stage as he laughed and watched the spectacle that Lily's act had become.
She had stopped dancing and the audience had quieted as the band's music softened for the last part of the song. Lily smiled coyly and she batted her eyes as she sang to one of the men on the stage,
"Oh I believe that love is grand
Especially with the right man
But oh, it's so much better you see
When he's. got.. money."
She laughed as she finished, and watched the audience get to their feet as the theatre was enveloped with cries and cheers. Two of the men on stage grabbed her and hoisted her up. She waved to the audience enthusiastically. As she brought her eyes to the balcony where Spot had sat and saw only Jack, her smile faded. Where had he gone? She was able to convince herself that he would return momentarily, but as the audience died down and she began her next number, he still had not returned.
After her act was over, her curtseys taken and she was just about to leave the stage, she took one more glance into the right balcony. Spot was still absent. She was able to hold her disappointment and confusion in for the time it took to walk offstage, but once backstage, her face fell.
~***~
Lily sat at her dressing table, unpinning her hair. All of the other girls had finished undressing and left. Lily sat alone in the empty room, staring at herself in the mirror. She began to remove her make-up, the lipstick first, with a white handkerchief.
She'd wiped away half when the image of Spot's empty chair flashed before her eyes again. "It's over," a voice inside of her head told her. "No," she said outloud, but the voice had responded with a "Yes" before she could finish her utterance. It wasn't what she wanted to her or believe, but somehow she couldn't escape the eerie feeling that it was true. She buried her face in her hands. She suddenly felt her skin prickle, and the small hairs on the back of her neck stood up. As, she started to look up to find out why, she felt a strong hand come to rest on her shoulder. Her head shot up. In the mirror, standing behind her was a man with a face that was not familiar.
Looking closer, she recognized him as one of the men who had been onstage with her earlier. She smiled, "You know that you're not supposed to be back here."
"Yes," he said, smiling. It was a smile that showed his teeth, and something in it suddenly made Lily very afraid.
She tried to smile back at him. "Well, I think it's best that you go now, before someone finds you here. So, leave, um, please." She stumbled over her words, trying her hardest to remain calm and composed.
His hand began to move from her shoulder. It slid to her neck and then caressed her face as she turned her head to face him. "No need to be coy anymore," he said in a frighteningly soft voice, "I saw the way you were looking at me. It's obvious - the way that you feel about me. I can see it in your eyes."
Lily lowered her eyes. "No, sir," her voice wavered as she spoke, "I'm sorry, but I believe you were mistaken." She slowly moved her hands to her thigh and felt for the knife that she kept there. Damn. It was not there. Doing her best not to become frantic, she moved her right hand behind her to feel around the dresser for the weapon as she continued trying to ward off the man vocally. "And if there was anything about my nature or my actions that caused you to believe something that is not true, then I am sorry. For that I feel I must apologize." Where was that damn knife?!?
His hand grasped her arm and pulled her up to standing. The hold he had on her was tight and Lily could feel the bruise that must have been forming. Now both of her hands searched the dresser for anything sharp or hard, anything that she could stab or bludgeon him with, anything that would injure him long enough for her to save herself. "Um, um, sir," she stuttered again, this time her panic beginning to show, "I am going to ask you again to leave. Please sir, leave. Now." She was pleading with him, her desperation evident in her eyes.
He laughed. "No," he said, "I don't think so."
Lily began to breathe heavily, the only thought on her mind now was to free herself - to free herself and run. She gathered up all of her strength and courage and with a violent twist of her torso, she managed to wrench herself free of his grasp. She began to run for the door, but his strong hands caught her. They grabbed her more tightly and pulled her back.
Her attacker slammed her against the wall, her head striking it with a dull thud. "Come on now," he said, "don't make me beg. Just be a good little girl and everything will be fine."
~***~
Spot quickly walked a straight path down the sidewalk, noticing nothing and no one, bumping into others and pushing past them. He was furious, utterly enraged, and determined. His mind was made up now. It was set and nothing would deter him. He fumed at the thought of the time and worry that he'd wasted on such a back-stabbing whore.
~***~
Lily squirmed and flailed with all of her might. She screamed for help, but he covered her mouth with her hand, smothering her cries. Her hands grabbed at the man, hitting him, pulling at his flesh. Her fists beat at his breast and her fingernails tore into him as she tried anything and everything to stop his advancements. "Not again," she thought, "This can't be happening again!"
Her assailant pulled at her dress, ripping it at the breast. He pinned her to the wall with his body as he began to undo his pants. Lily still fought him, though she was utterly exhausted and her head and body were consumed with pain. As she continued to assault him with her fists, tears began to fall from her eyes. She closed them, thinking that if she must succumb to this, then she would certainly not watch it happen to her.
The man had successfully undone his pants and was not reaching under Lily's dress and pawing at her undergarments when she heard a "Click." Lily opened her eyes and the man turned around to find a handgun's barrel placed on his temple. It was Mantovanni. "Excuse me, Sir," he said calmly, but sternly, "I fear I must request that you leave right this moment and never frequent this establishment again. For if you do, you shall find yourself in the position that you are in now, and next time, I will not be so kind."
Lily closed her eyes and slid down the wall as her attacker released her and slinked out of the room.
~***~
Lily waited up for Spot that night. She wasn't certain if he would come, but hope wouldn't let her give up on him. She needed him. She needed him to come and to be as loving and caring as he could be. She needed to tell him what had happened to her, and she needed him to become enraged and swear that he would have all of Brooklyn after that man and that neither he nor any of them would sleep until the assailant was dead. Yes, she needed her Spot.
She'd waited up for hours and still, no Spot. She rested her arms on the footboard of her bed and then laid her head in her arms. Within moments, she'd fallen asleep.
She was immediately awakened by the clatter of haphazard footsteps on the fire escape. Through her sleep-laden eyes, she could see Spot climb through her window.
"What time is it?" she mumbled.
"I dunno," he answered, shrugging, "late."
As soon as she sat up, the smell of alcohol and smoke hit her nostrils. "Do you want to sit down?" she asked him, careful to choose the correct words.
"Nah," he said leaning against the wall.
Alright, Lily thought to herself, so he's in one of his moods. She decided then that to run into his arms and pour our her heart to him about what had happened to her earlier would probably not be the best thing to do at that time.
Spot took note of her carefulness. "She's walkin on eggshells," he thought to himself, "she knows that I know. If she wasn't guilty, she'd be a little bit more glad to see me. Hmph. Look at her still sittin' there. Why doesn't she just come over here and beg for my forgivness or somethin'?"
"So, Spot," she said softly and hesitantly, "I noticed that you were at the theatre today. Why did you leave so suddenly?"
"I wanted tah," Spot returned, "You got a problem wit dat or somethin'?"
"No, I was simply wondering," Lily said defensively. Her desire to run into his arms had faded. She thought for a moment. She knew what she wanted to say, but did she dare? Yes, perhaps she did. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to speak to me a little more nicely, Spot."
"Hey, I can do whatevah I want tah do. I ain't gotta do nothing if I doan wanna," he retorted.
"God, you're drunk," Lily said, shaking her head in disgust.
"Well I gotta do somethin' besides just sit around. An' anyway you think I like dis? Do ya? You think I like waitin' around for you all dah time for you to get done with doing who knows what kinda shit behind me back? Do you know what a fool dat makes me look like? Do you know how stupid dey think I am?"
"Why do you care what they think? Damn, Spot. All you ever care about is your pride! Your damn reputation! You don't care about me!"
"Now, hold on a minute dere sweetface..."
But Lily didn't hold on. She became even more inflamed by Spot's use of the word "sweetface" the patronizing "sweetface." Nothing could stop her now and she lit into him without mercy. "And God forbid you lose your status. God forbid you're not the king of Brooklyn and the rest of the world for that matter! You're the infamous fucking Spot Conlon and that's all that matters to you!"
"Oh yeah? And who da fuck do ya think you are? Huh? Miss Lily Fox! Ya think you're betta dan me? You think yer betta than any o' us, Jo? Jis cause you was some liddle rich goil who had one liddle bad ting happen to 'er? Lemme jus tell ya then, lemme let ya know that dat ain't nothin' special round heah. Dere's a lot of us who ain't got no family an' ain't got nothin' and we'se a lot woise off dan you. You wit you're prissy little job where ya prance around in your pretty little dress and get paid to let old men put dere doity hands all ovah ya!"
"Shut up, Spot! Shut up!" Spot's comments struck her deeply and re-opened the wound that she had suffered earlier that day.
"What? Did I hit a noive Jo? Did I? Was dere some truth in what I said dat you doan wanna admit?" he taunted.
"How dare you? How dare you talk to me like this?!? You've got no right.."
"Oh, I got every right. See, you'se seemed to forget something. You forgot dat you'se my goil, Jo. Mine! Dat means I can talk to youse howevah I want!"
"God, Spot, you don't have any concept of reality. You just don't get it! You've got everything mixed up in that twisted little head of yours. You can't fucking own people, Spot. People aren't property, damn it! You don't own me!"
Spot suddenly became quiet, momentarily at a loss for words. He lowered his hand to his side. Then a little sneer appeared over his face. In a low, spiteful voice intended to stab through Lily's heart, he snarled through his teeth, very slowly and very directly, "Yeah, dat's right. Hey, maybe ya right, Jo. I don't own you. Everyone owns you. You're just a whore."
At that comment, Lily became enraged. She flew at him, the palm of her hand striking his face. Spot held his stinging jaw for a moment, surprise at her boldness. Then, in retaliation, he lifted his hand, poised as if to strike her as she had done him, but harder and with more violence.
"Hit me, I dare you!" Lily uttered in an injured, but still threatening voice, "Hit me!"
He lowered his hand, his jaw clinched and his eyes burning blue-white with rage. Curling his lip, he turned on his heel and headed for the window.
"You just scared!" Lily called after him as he climbed out of the window, "God, Spot! You're so fucking afraid that you can't see anything! But what do you know anyway? You don't know anything. You're just a fucking kid!"
He was gone. Perhaps he was gone forever. He would never again climb through that window, and Lily knew it. She stood staring at it, as if in disbelief, for a few moments before she threw herself onto her bed. Curling into a ball, she began to cry. She cried deep sobs that resounded through her and shook her entire body. "It's over," the voice told her yet again, "Over."
~***~
Lily was stubborn, though, and though she knew that the voice inside of her head was probably right, she'd refused to believe it. From birth, she'd been giving the gift of eternal hope, and it was this hope that she clung to night after night, staying awake for hours, waiting and hoping that maybe, just maybe Spot would come back.
While she sat up, endless waiting, she had a multitude of time to do nothing but think - to replay the events of the last month through her mind, to analyze, to rationalize. And as time took its toll on her, her feelings toward Spot and the horrible argument that had taken place began to change. Perhaps it really wasn't as horrid as she was making it out to be. The words that were spoken that night were hard and meant to hurt, yes, but everyone gets angry from time to time. Spot was intoxicated could he have meant what he was saying, or even known that he was verbally assaulting her? Did he remember that he had done it the next day? And maybe Spot was not entirely to blame. She had attacked him also, turned on him, blamed him, and even struck him. Perhaps she was faulting Spot too greatly, and instead, she should have been blaming herself.
On the sixth night of keeping vigilance for Spot, Lily had decided that she had gained her fill of sitting and waiting for hours on end. Enough was enough. She'd come to a decision: how could she expect anything to get done if she simply sat and waited for things to happen. She'd have to take matters into her own hand. She'd have to see Spot. She felt that she owed him an apology, if nothing else, and she hoped that somehow, her apology could start a chain of events that would lead to the mending of the bonds they'd severed.
As she was putting on her coat and making ready to leave, Faye appeared at her doorway. "Oh, no," she said, knowing exactly what Lily was intending to do, "please tell me that you're not about to do what I think you're about to do."
"I can't do that Faye," Lily responded.
"Lily, dear, I really don't think that this is the best idea," Faye warned, "You know what could happen, don't you? Are you certain that you want to do this?"
Lily laughed. "No, Faye, I'm not, actually. But I can't just sit here night after night and not know, can I?" She buttoned the last button on her coat and walked past Faye and out of the door.
"Lil," Faye called out after her, "I know that you're hoping for the best. No. I know that you're expecting the best. But please, do not let your world come to an end if things do not turn out that way." Lily paused, considering Faye's warning, but continued on her way.
As she walked to the Lodging House, she rehearsed the words she would say to Spot again and again in her mind. Nothing sounded right. Nothing sounded proper or particularly convincing. When she arrived at the door of the House, she still had no idea what she would say to him. Taking a deep breath, she decided she would have to just say whatever came to mind, and hope that it came out right. She pushed open the door and went inside.
As she entered the dimly lit room, she observed several boys seated on and around the desk. They're eyes widened as they recognized who she was, but Lily did not let their surprised looks deter her. Nor did she have to ask for directions this time. Her feet knew the way as they took her up the creaky staircase.
When she reached the top, she veered right, in the direction of Spot's room. She could see a light coming from under the door, so she knew that he was inside. The door was opened to a crack, and as Lily drew nearer she could hear voices inside. As she got closer, she recognized one voice - Spot's, but the other she'd never heard before. It was a female voice. Lily's heart sank into her stomach.
She didn't want to go on, she didn't want to find out who was inside, but her curiosity got the better of her. She walked to the door, trembling, her heart pounding in her chest and looked though the crack. Inside she could see Spot, wearing nothing but his long underwear bottoms, his shirt thrown somewhere, and his pants discarded at his feet. He was smiling at a girl with long red curls, who continued to chatter and giggle. She, like him, was wearing only her underwear. Lily swallowed hard as she watched the girl sit on Spot's lap as Spot took her in his arms and kissed her. With the kiss, Spot had broken her heart into a million pieces. She'd had enough. She couldn't bear to watch anymore.
Lily's hand went to her mouth, and she slowly backed away from the door. Not watching where she was going, her hip collided with the stair handrail with a loud thud. The noise startled her and she jump in shock, her hip bruised and aching. "What the hell?" She heard spot's voice say from inside the room. Determined to not let him see her there, she turned on her heel and ran down the stairs as fast as her legs could possibly carry her.
Spot came out of his room to investigate the noise just in time to see Lily reach the bottom of the stairs. "Jo?" he questioned, "Jo! Wait! Stop!" But Lily did not stop, nor did she even turn around. She ran out of the door onto the street. Spot ran down after her, trying to catch up with her. He'd reached the door just in time to see that she was a good ways down the street, her pace not slowing. "Jo!" he called out once more, and then gave up. He stood at the door and watched her, wondering why the hell he'd done what he done. How much it must have hurt her to see him there with that girl. God, what had he done?
Lily pushed Spot away abruptly and quickly wiped the tears that had begun to fall from her eyes and face. A sudden feeling of utter embarrassment had attacked her. Spot was a bit startled at the abruptness of her withdrawal. "Oh, God, there I go being pathetic and overly emotional again. I'm sorry..I didn't mean to be so dramatic and woe is me...Ugh, I am such a mess!" She stood up and walked around the room, running her fingers through her hair and trying to shed the humiliation she had caused herself by outwardly being a basket case. She paused to yawn and stretch. "God, it's late isn't it?" She made her way back to the bed and Spot. "We should getting back to bed."
"Um, actually Jo," Spot said, rising, "I think I'm just gonna, uh, go back to dah house and sleep dere tonight instead."
A confused look came over her face, and she wrinkled her brow. She was amazed at his sudden transformation. One moment he was loving and gentle, tending to her and trying to comfort her, and now, in an instant, he had changed to cold and distant, indifferent and almost uncaring. Was it her? Had she done something wrong, said something wrong? Did her outward display of emotion turn him off and make him think she was nothing more than a whiny pathetic little girl? She wanted to object and question him, but she knew how Spot could be. He'd start off acting a little strangely, and then at any moment, he was liable to suddenly blow up, especially if the wrong thing were said to him. "But-but it's raining," she stuttered, "Are you sure you want to go out in that?"
"Ah, what's a liddle watah?" he shrugged, as he put on his right shoe and then stood to pull his suspenders up. He placed his cap on his head and leaned over to kiss Lily's cheek, and her face fell as he did so. He was really leaving. He was actually going to climb out of the window and leave now, and there was nothing that she could do. She had just bared her soul to him, told him everything, and he was just going to leave her. She struggled to think of something subtle and suitable to say, something that would keep him there with her without him feeling as though she were begging him to stay.
"And I won't be comin' round tomorrah eiddah. I got a few liddle things that need takin' care of," Spot said, as he walked to his open window. He turned around to look at Lily and smile goodbye. "Aw Jo," he said, noticing the upset look on her face, "now don't gimme dat look, not dat sad face."
"I can't help it," she answered, still sulking, "it's the only face I've got."
Spot laughed, a snorting, little laugh through his nose. He walked back over to her and used his index finger to tip up her chin. "Cheer up, sweetface," he said, "dah woild ain't cavin' in on ya." Lily cringed at the word "sweetface" and Spot smiled and exhaled a little snort-like laugh in response. With another slight smile, he'd turned and disappeared out of the window.
Lily's lip curled in disgust. She hated when he called her "sweetface." He only did it when he'd wanted to get the best of her, and when he said it, he'd only use that patronizing tone. She grabbed for the nearest thing that she could reach, which happened to be a book, and flung it violently against the wall. "Damn you, Spot Conlon!" she said in anger, "damn you for making me pour my heart out to you and then leaving me directly after! Aargh. If I didn't like you so much, I'd swear I hate you." She paused. "And damn you for making me like you!"
She crossed her arms, furrowed her brow, and glared at the book she'd thrown that was now resting on the floor, half open. As she continued to glare at the book, her expression softened. She stood up, went over to the book, and stooped down to pick it up. Returning it to its previous place, she flopped down on the bed and buried her face in her hands.
"Why did you do that?" she asked herself, "Why? You didn't have to tell him anything! He didn't make you tell him anything! But no, you go and let your little sad, sob story come spilling out of your mouth and you cry and make yourself look like a fool! And then you wonder why he leaves! Damn you, Josephine! I hate you!"
She could feel the hot tears stinging her eyes again, and she angrily wiped them away. "No!" she said, "Not that again! Get ahold of yourself!" Two years ago, she'd spent nearly every waking moment sobbing until her chest ached and her eyes were dry. After that she'd swore she'd never cry again, and she'd kept her promise faithfully. Now was not the time to break it. "God, you don't have any reason to cry! Now, just calm down. Breathe. There is nothing wrong. He just wanted to go back to the house. There's nothing odd about that. That's no reason to get upset. Everything is fine. Tomorrow will be better. You just need to go to sleep until tomorrow. That's right, go to sleep."
Knowing quite well that there was no way that she could possibly fall asleep immediately if she simply laid in bed and shut her eyes, she walked over to her desk to grab her current favourite book, Tess of the D'Urbervilles, so that she might re-read it. She crawled into bed and pulled the covers up around her. After lighting the lamp on her bedside table, she opened the book and began to read. "On an evening in the latter part of May a middle-aged man was walking homeward from Shaston to the village of Marlott, in the adjoining Vale of Blakemore or Blackmoor..." She'd barely made it past the opening lines before she stopped reading and scowled. No, Tess was not doing its job. Though she'd loved it the last three times she had read it, tonight it didn't feel right.
Turning in the direction of the lamp, she spotted a book on her bedside table. The spine read The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne. It was the book she'd thrown earlier. "Nathaniel," she said to herself and laughed. Nathaniel - Spot's name. How fitting. She'd been meaning to read it for some time, but hadn't found the desire to do so. Perhaps now was the perfect time to begin it. Sighing and shrugging, she picked up the book. Opening it, and thumbing past the first few pages, she reached the opening lines of the novel: "A throng of bearded men, in sad-colored garments and gray, steeple-crowned hats, intermixed with women, some wearing hoods, and others bareheaded, was assembled in front of a wooden edifice, the door of which was heavily timbered with oak, and studded with iron spikes."
~***~ "Spot! Hey Spot! Wait up!"
Spot stopped in his tracks and looked behind him to see Jack running up to him.
"Hey, s'mattah? You deaf or somethin'? I been hollerin' at ya for the last two blocks!" Jack said, out of breath.
Spot shrugged and flicked the ashes from his cigarette. "Sorry Cowboy. I must notta hoid ya," he answered with an air of indifference.
"Whattaya doin' round dese parts anyway?" Jack asked.
"I dunno. Walkin,' I guess." In truth, Spot had just been walking. He'd been walking since eleven that morning. After he'd sold his last of 50 papers, he'd started without knowing where exactly he intended to go or for how long. He had just walked and walked and somehow, he'd ended up in Manhattan.
"Hey, ya hungry?" Jack asked.
"Nah," he replied. "Sides, I ain't got hardly any money anyway. Been blowin' nearly every last penny on dese damn things." He gestured toward the cigarette in his right hand. It'd been days since he'd last left Lily. In those days, he'd hardly done anything except sell his papers, eat a few bites every now and then, and smoke.
Spot offered the cigarette to Jack. Jack accepted it and took a drag. Handing it back to Spot, "Hey, what's wrong wit you dese days, Spot?"
"Whattaya mean?"
"Well," Jack began, "I'se seen you tree times in dah last week, and ev'ry time all you do is mope. Mope and smoke and sit dere wit dat sour look on ya face. And den, dere's dat one liddle incident dat I don't particu'ly like tah tawk about, but, uh, a few weeks ago ya practically tried tah kill me fuh no good reason. Yah remembah dat one, Spot? Huh? An' so anyways, I was just wonderin' if dere was anytin' you'd like to, I dunno, get off ya chest, maybe."
Spot stared at Jack for a moment before a short and direct, "Nah" came from his lips.
It's that girl, thought Jack. It had to be. Since he'd become entangled with her, Spot hadn't been the same. He wasn't the same, old fun loving Spot he was used to: the Spot that was always up for a game of poker or getting drunk with the boys, the Spot that could always win the prettiest girl in the room and be done with her in one week, then go back to looking the next. True, he did have quite a temper and could sulk and fume better than anyone Jack knew, but these last few weeks he'd never seen Spot so reclusive, so quiet and private, and perhaps so blatantly unhappy.
Jack could recognize the look in Spot's eyes. It was a familiar one. Jack had seen it in his own eyes after Sarah's betrayal two months ago. It was the mark of hurt and confusion, masked by an air of indifference. Yes, it had to be that girl.
"It's dat goil, ain't it?" Jack's attempt to hold his tongue failed as the words flew past his lips before he had realized what he'd done.
Spot turned around to face him. He raised his right eyebrow and stared at Jack. Jack braced himself for an explosion of Spot's temper or something of the sort. Instead Spot laughed. "Yeah, maybe," he said. Jack faked a small laugh, though he couldn't manage to see the humor.
"Hey Jacky-boy," Spot said. He was smiling - it was a devilish grin that was familiar to Jack and he was glad to see it. Spot finished his sentence, "You wanna go back to Brooklyn and see a liddle show? There's one I been meanin' to check out."
"Shoah, Spot," Jack replied, smiling genuinely this time, "Shoah."
~***~ "Lil, you almost ready? It's time to go." Annabel stood in the doorway, fully dressed and ready as she waited for Lily to join her and the rest of the girls.
"Almost," Lily replied. She leaned over the dressing table and took one last look in the mirror as she pushed a curl back off of her forehead and rubbed off a bit of lipstick that had strayed outside of the lines. Examining herself once more in the mirror, she wrinkled her nose in displeasure and sighed. "Oh, I give up," she said and walked swiftly out of the door.
By the time she'd reached the stage, she could hear the announcer's voice begin to boom. She quickly climbed up the stairs and joined the other girls, taking her place at the back of the line. Eva still wasn't nearly up to taking Lily's place, so she still did a few numbers with the rest of the girls and performed her solo act directly after. With the rustle of skirts and the clatter of high-heeled shoes, the girls shimmied out onto the stage and began their first number.
Lily breezed through the numbers she performed with the rest of the girls. They were old and familiar. She was comfortable with them, so they came easily to her. When it had reached the time for her solo performance, she could feel her stomach tying herself in knots as the nervousness set in. She'd been performing alone for only a week, and she was still vastly frightened that she would hit a wrong note, forget the words to the song, or stumble without the other girls there to mask her error. She wrung her hands as she waited backstage during the break in between performances. Mentally, she was rehearsing the words to her song, a new song that she'd never performed.
Faye came up behind her. "Are you ready?" she asked.
"Oh Faye, don't make me do it! I can't go out there!" Lily pleaded with her best friend.
"You can and you will!" Faye responded, "Oh, come on. It's not that bad. You've done it five times already-"
"Six," Lily interrupted.
"Alright, six. You've done it six times already and each time it's gone beautifully."
"So far," retorted Lily, "But Faye, what if this time I forget the words..or, or I trip or something..or what if they boo me and then the entire audience climbs up onstage and riots!"
"Then you just go with it. Whatever happens, smile and keep going," Faye said reassuringly, "and just for the record, I highly doubt that the audience will climb onstage or riot, so you can forget about that."
The band had started up again, signaling that the time for Lily to go back onstage had come. The announcer's voice started her introduction. Faye smiled at her and said, "Go get 'em."
Lily plastered a fake smile on her face and tried to convince herself that she wasn't going to vomit as she sauntered out onto the stage. She didn't know what was wrong with her. She had done this six times already, as Faye had reminded her - six times. Yet she'd never felt this panicky before any of the other performances. Not even before her very first had such a feeling of nervousness and dread filled her. She paused in the middle of the stage as she waited for the piano's cue. "Calm down," she told herself, "just keep breathing. You will be fine!"
She heard three distinct notes that signaled the slow intro to her song and opened her mouth to sing,
"I want a man to love me
Oh, someone to hold me
Softly, sweetly, gently, tenderly
Someone who'll care of me
Never leave me and be strong
When everything's gone wrong."
As she glanced up, her eyes wandered to the right balcony, where a familiar set of stone blue eyes met hers. Spot. Her Spot. He was there. He'd been gone for nearly a week and a half, but her was there now, watching her. Her heart jumped and the knots in her stomach turned to the flutter of butterflies. Her smiled widened as she continued to sing, now more confidently,
"Oh, I want a man to kiss me
How I need a man to miss me
All the day through
But let me say, in this way
That I prefer a man who lives
to give expensive jewels."
The music quickened, and Lily began to feel more comfortable. Everything was going along swimmingly. She just had to keep going.
"Oh I want a man to love me
A man with lots of money.."
Spot watched her as she sang. Jack was sitting beside him, smiling, tapping his foot, and clearly enjoying himself, but Spot hardly noticed him. She was beautiful. Yes, that was undeniably obvious. He felt riveted to her, as though he couldn't take his eyes away from her for one second. Watching her down there, shining and shimmering, he'd felt as though he'd begun to fall in love with her again, as though nothing could possibly go wrong with a girl like that. No man could want for anything more with a girl like Lily on his arm, right? His eyes still following her every move, he'd forgotten that he'd ever had any doubt or any inkling of a problem. Almost.
As Lily stopped singing for the instrumental break in her song, she noticed something move out of the corner of her left eye. As she turned to investigate the motion, she saw a neatly dressed man, probably a student at the university, climbing onto the stage. Her panicky feeling immediately returned and intensified. "Oh, God!" she thought, "They're rioting!"
The man must have not saw the fear in her eyes, for he walked right up to her, bowed, and offered her his hand. Lily didn't know what to do. Faye's words immediately came to mind. "Whatever happens, smile and keep going," she had said. "Alright Faye," Lily thought, "I'll smile and keep going." She smiled and took the young man's hand. He took it and began to dance with her onstage.
A few other men, following the first's lead, suddenly climbed on the stage and began to take turns dancing with Lily. Lily laughed as they approached her one by one, taking each's hand and letting them lead her around the stage. The crowd cheered and applauded as they became part of the act themselves. The band took a cue from the audience's delight and extended the originally short instrumental break. "What the- " Spot exclaimed from high in his balcony seat as he learned over the railing to observe the swarm of men now dancing with his girl. He was about to laugh, but the humor faded from the situation when Spot saw one of the men lean over and kiss Lily on the lips. She gently pushed him away and wagged her finger to scold the bold youth, but it was too late. The audience stood up to cheer and clap wildly at the man's gall and bravery, but Spot could not do so. He felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, and his face fell into an utterly disgusted scowl. He opened his frowning mouth to let a single, whispered, "Bitch," fall from them before he abruptly stood up from his chair, knocking it over in the process, and left.
"Hey, Spot, where ya-" Jack began, as he watched his friend leave. For a moment he considered following him, but shrugged off the idea and thought, "Nah, Spot can take care of himself." He returned his attention to the stage as he laughed and watched the spectacle that Lily's act had become.
She had stopped dancing and the audience had quieted as the band's music softened for the last part of the song. Lily smiled coyly and she batted her eyes as she sang to one of the men on the stage,
"Oh I believe that love is grand
Especially with the right man
But oh, it's so much better you see
When he's. got.. money."
She laughed as she finished, and watched the audience get to their feet as the theatre was enveloped with cries and cheers. Two of the men on stage grabbed her and hoisted her up. She waved to the audience enthusiastically. As she brought her eyes to the balcony where Spot had sat and saw only Jack, her smile faded. Where had he gone? She was able to convince herself that he would return momentarily, but as the audience died down and she began her next number, he still had not returned.
After her act was over, her curtseys taken and she was just about to leave the stage, she took one more glance into the right balcony. Spot was still absent. She was able to hold her disappointment and confusion in for the time it took to walk offstage, but once backstage, her face fell.
~***~
Lily sat at her dressing table, unpinning her hair. All of the other girls had finished undressing and left. Lily sat alone in the empty room, staring at herself in the mirror. She began to remove her make-up, the lipstick first, with a white handkerchief.
She'd wiped away half when the image of Spot's empty chair flashed before her eyes again. "It's over," a voice inside of her head told her. "No," she said outloud, but the voice had responded with a "Yes" before she could finish her utterance. It wasn't what she wanted to her or believe, but somehow she couldn't escape the eerie feeling that it was true. She buried her face in her hands. She suddenly felt her skin prickle, and the small hairs on the back of her neck stood up. As, she started to look up to find out why, she felt a strong hand come to rest on her shoulder. Her head shot up. In the mirror, standing behind her was a man with a face that was not familiar.
Looking closer, she recognized him as one of the men who had been onstage with her earlier. She smiled, "You know that you're not supposed to be back here."
"Yes," he said, smiling. It was a smile that showed his teeth, and something in it suddenly made Lily very afraid.
She tried to smile back at him. "Well, I think it's best that you go now, before someone finds you here. So, leave, um, please." She stumbled over her words, trying her hardest to remain calm and composed.
His hand began to move from her shoulder. It slid to her neck and then caressed her face as she turned her head to face him. "No need to be coy anymore," he said in a frighteningly soft voice, "I saw the way you were looking at me. It's obvious - the way that you feel about me. I can see it in your eyes."
Lily lowered her eyes. "No, sir," her voice wavered as she spoke, "I'm sorry, but I believe you were mistaken." She slowly moved her hands to her thigh and felt for the knife that she kept there. Damn. It was not there. Doing her best not to become frantic, she moved her right hand behind her to feel around the dresser for the weapon as she continued trying to ward off the man vocally. "And if there was anything about my nature or my actions that caused you to believe something that is not true, then I am sorry. For that I feel I must apologize." Where was that damn knife?!?
His hand grasped her arm and pulled her up to standing. The hold he had on her was tight and Lily could feel the bruise that must have been forming. Now both of her hands searched the dresser for anything sharp or hard, anything that she could stab or bludgeon him with, anything that would injure him long enough for her to save herself. "Um, um, sir," she stuttered again, this time her panic beginning to show, "I am going to ask you again to leave. Please sir, leave. Now." She was pleading with him, her desperation evident in her eyes.
He laughed. "No," he said, "I don't think so."
Lily began to breathe heavily, the only thought on her mind now was to free herself - to free herself and run. She gathered up all of her strength and courage and with a violent twist of her torso, she managed to wrench herself free of his grasp. She began to run for the door, but his strong hands caught her. They grabbed her more tightly and pulled her back.
Her attacker slammed her against the wall, her head striking it with a dull thud. "Come on now," he said, "don't make me beg. Just be a good little girl and everything will be fine."
~***~
Spot quickly walked a straight path down the sidewalk, noticing nothing and no one, bumping into others and pushing past them. He was furious, utterly enraged, and determined. His mind was made up now. It was set and nothing would deter him. He fumed at the thought of the time and worry that he'd wasted on such a back-stabbing whore.
~***~
Lily squirmed and flailed with all of her might. She screamed for help, but he covered her mouth with her hand, smothering her cries. Her hands grabbed at the man, hitting him, pulling at his flesh. Her fists beat at his breast and her fingernails tore into him as she tried anything and everything to stop his advancements. "Not again," she thought, "This can't be happening again!"
Her assailant pulled at her dress, ripping it at the breast. He pinned her to the wall with his body as he began to undo his pants. Lily still fought him, though she was utterly exhausted and her head and body were consumed with pain. As she continued to assault him with her fists, tears began to fall from her eyes. She closed them, thinking that if she must succumb to this, then she would certainly not watch it happen to her.
The man had successfully undone his pants and was not reaching under Lily's dress and pawing at her undergarments when she heard a "Click." Lily opened her eyes and the man turned around to find a handgun's barrel placed on his temple. It was Mantovanni. "Excuse me, Sir," he said calmly, but sternly, "I fear I must request that you leave right this moment and never frequent this establishment again. For if you do, you shall find yourself in the position that you are in now, and next time, I will not be so kind."
Lily closed her eyes and slid down the wall as her attacker released her and slinked out of the room.
~***~
Lily waited up for Spot that night. She wasn't certain if he would come, but hope wouldn't let her give up on him. She needed him. She needed him to come and to be as loving and caring as he could be. She needed to tell him what had happened to her, and she needed him to become enraged and swear that he would have all of Brooklyn after that man and that neither he nor any of them would sleep until the assailant was dead. Yes, she needed her Spot.
She'd waited up for hours and still, no Spot. She rested her arms on the footboard of her bed and then laid her head in her arms. Within moments, she'd fallen asleep.
She was immediately awakened by the clatter of haphazard footsteps on the fire escape. Through her sleep-laden eyes, she could see Spot climb through her window.
"What time is it?" she mumbled.
"I dunno," he answered, shrugging, "late."
As soon as she sat up, the smell of alcohol and smoke hit her nostrils. "Do you want to sit down?" she asked him, careful to choose the correct words.
"Nah," he said leaning against the wall.
Alright, Lily thought to herself, so he's in one of his moods. She decided then that to run into his arms and pour our her heart to him about what had happened to her earlier would probably not be the best thing to do at that time.
Spot took note of her carefulness. "She's walkin on eggshells," he thought to himself, "she knows that I know. If she wasn't guilty, she'd be a little bit more glad to see me. Hmph. Look at her still sittin' there. Why doesn't she just come over here and beg for my forgivness or somethin'?"
"So, Spot," she said softly and hesitantly, "I noticed that you were at the theatre today. Why did you leave so suddenly?"
"I wanted tah," Spot returned, "You got a problem wit dat or somethin'?"
"No, I was simply wondering," Lily said defensively. Her desire to run into his arms had faded. She thought for a moment. She knew what she wanted to say, but did she dare? Yes, perhaps she did. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to speak to me a little more nicely, Spot."
"Hey, I can do whatevah I want tah do. I ain't gotta do nothing if I doan wanna," he retorted.
"God, you're drunk," Lily said, shaking her head in disgust.
"Well I gotta do somethin' besides just sit around. An' anyway you think I like dis? Do ya? You think I like waitin' around for you all dah time for you to get done with doing who knows what kinda shit behind me back? Do you know what a fool dat makes me look like? Do you know how stupid dey think I am?"
"Why do you care what they think? Damn, Spot. All you ever care about is your pride! Your damn reputation! You don't care about me!"
"Now, hold on a minute dere sweetface..."
But Lily didn't hold on. She became even more inflamed by Spot's use of the word "sweetface" the patronizing "sweetface." Nothing could stop her now and she lit into him without mercy. "And God forbid you lose your status. God forbid you're not the king of Brooklyn and the rest of the world for that matter! You're the infamous fucking Spot Conlon and that's all that matters to you!"
"Oh yeah? And who da fuck do ya think you are? Huh? Miss Lily Fox! Ya think you're betta dan me? You think yer betta than any o' us, Jo? Jis cause you was some liddle rich goil who had one liddle bad ting happen to 'er? Lemme jus tell ya then, lemme let ya know that dat ain't nothin' special round heah. Dere's a lot of us who ain't got no family an' ain't got nothin' and we'se a lot woise off dan you. You wit you're prissy little job where ya prance around in your pretty little dress and get paid to let old men put dere doity hands all ovah ya!"
"Shut up, Spot! Shut up!" Spot's comments struck her deeply and re-opened the wound that she had suffered earlier that day.
"What? Did I hit a noive Jo? Did I? Was dere some truth in what I said dat you doan wanna admit?" he taunted.
"How dare you? How dare you talk to me like this?!? You've got no right.."
"Oh, I got every right. See, you'se seemed to forget something. You forgot dat you'se my goil, Jo. Mine! Dat means I can talk to youse howevah I want!"
"God, Spot, you don't have any concept of reality. You just don't get it! You've got everything mixed up in that twisted little head of yours. You can't fucking own people, Spot. People aren't property, damn it! You don't own me!"
Spot suddenly became quiet, momentarily at a loss for words. He lowered his hand to his side. Then a little sneer appeared over his face. In a low, spiteful voice intended to stab through Lily's heart, he snarled through his teeth, very slowly and very directly, "Yeah, dat's right. Hey, maybe ya right, Jo. I don't own you. Everyone owns you. You're just a whore."
At that comment, Lily became enraged. She flew at him, the palm of her hand striking his face. Spot held his stinging jaw for a moment, surprise at her boldness. Then, in retaliation, he lifted his hand, poised as if to strike her as she had done him, but harder and with more violence.
"Hit me, I dare you!" Lily uttered in an injured, but still threatening voice, "Hit me!"
He lowered his hand, his jaw clinched and his eyes burning blue-white with rage. Curling his lip, he turned on his heel and headed for the window.
"You just scared!" Lily called after him as he climbed out of the window, "God, Spot! You're so fucking afraid that you can't see anything! But what do you know anyway? You don't know anything. You're just a fucking kid!"
He was gone. Perhaps he was gone forever. He would never again climb through that window, and Lily knew it. She stood staring at it, as if in disbelief, for a few moments before she threw herself onto her bed. Curling into a ball, she began to cry. She cried deep sobs that resounded through her and shook her entire body. "It's over," the voice told her yet again, "Over."
~***~
Lily was stubborn, though, and though she knew that the voice inside of her head was probably right, she'd refused to believe it. From birth, she'd been giving the gift of eternal hope, and it was this hope that she clung to night after night, staying awake for hours, waiting and hoping that maybe, just maybe Spot would come back.
While she sat up, endless waiting, she had a multitude of time to do nothing but think - to replay the events of the last month through her mind, to analyze, to rationalize. And as time took its toll on her, her feelings toward Spot and the horrible argument that had taken place began to change. Perhaps it really wasn't as horrid as she was making it out to be. The words that were spoken that night were hard and meant to hurt, yes, but everyone gets angry from time to time. Spot was intoxicated could he have meant what he was saying, or even known that he was verbally assaulting her? Did he remember that he had done it the next day? And maybe Spot was not entirely to blame. She had attacked him also, turned on him, blamed him, and even struck him. Perhaps she was faulting Spot too greatly, and instead, she should have been blaming herself.
On the sixth night of keeping vigilance for Spot, Lily had decided that she had gained her fill of sitting and waiting for hours on end. Enough was enough. She'd come to a decision: how could she expect anything to get done if she simply sat and waited for things to happen. She'd have to take matters into her own hand. She'd have to see Spot. She felt that she owed him an apology, if nothing else, and she hoped that somehow, her apology could start a chain of events that would lead to the mending of the bonds they'd severed.
As she was putting on her coat and making ready to leave, Faye appeared at her doorway. "Oh, no," she said, knowing exactly what Lily was intending to do, "please tell me that you're not about to do what I think you're about to do."
"I can't do that Faye," Lily responded.
"Lily, dear, I really don't think that this is the best idea," Faye warned, "You know what could happen, don't you? Are you certain that you want to do this?"
Lily laughed. "No, Faye, I'm not, actually. But I can't just sit here night after night and not know, can I?" She buttoned the last button on her coat and walked past Faye and out of the door.
"Lil," Faye called out after her, "I know that you're hoping for the best. No. I know that you're expecting the best. But please, do not let your world come to an end if things do not turn out that way." Lily paused, considering Faye's warning, but continued on her way.
As she walked to the Lodging House, she rehearsed the words she would say to Spot again and again in her mind. Nothing sounded right. Nothing sounded proper or particularly convincing. When she arrived at the door of the House, she still had no idea what she would say to him. Taking a deep breath, she decided she would have to just say whatever came to mind, and hope that it came out right. She pushed open the door and went inside.
As she entered the dimly lit room, she observed several boys seated on and around the desk. They're eyes widened as they recognized who she was, but Lily did not let their surprised looks deter her. Nor did she have to ask for directions this time. Her feet knew the way as they took her up the creaky staircase.
When she reached the top, she veered right, in the direction of Spot's room. She could see a light coming from under the door, so she knew that he was inside. The door was opened to a crack, and as Lily drew nearer she could hear voices inside. As she got closer, she recognized one voice - Spot's, but the other she'd never heard before. It was a female voice. Lily's heart sank into her stomach.
She didn't want to go on, she didn't want to find out who was inside, but her curiosity got the better of her. She walked to the door, trembling, her heart pounding in her chest and looked though the crack. Inside she could see Spot, wearing nothing but his long underwear bottoms, his shirt thrown somewhere, and his pants discarded at his feet. He was smiling at a girl with long red curls, who continued to chatter and giggle. She, like him, was wearing only her underwear. Lily swallowed hard as she watched the girl sit on Spot's lap as Spot took her in his arms and kissed her. With the kiss, Spot had broken her heart into a million pieces. She'd had enough. She couldn't bear to watch anymore.
Lily's hand went to her mouth, and she slowly backed away from the door. Not watching where she was going, her hip collided with the stair handrail with a loud thud. The noise startled her and she jump in shock, her hip bruised and aching. "What the hell?" She heard spot's voice say from inside the room. Determined to not let him see her there, she turned on her heel and ran down the stairs as fast as her legs could possibly carry her.
Spot came out of his room to investigate the noise just in time to see Lily reach the bottom of the stairs. "Jo?" he questioned, "Jo! Wait! Stop!" But Lily did not stop, nor did she even turn around. She ran out of the door onto the street. Spot ran down after her, trying to catch up with her. He'd reached the door just in time to see that she was a good ways down the street, her pace not slowing. "Jo!" he called out once more, and then gave up. He stood at the door and watched her, wondering why the hell he'd done what he done. How much it must have hurt her to see him there with that girl. God, what had he done?