Racetrack and the others gave Spot and I curious looks as we walked
up to them,
both trying to act as if nothing had happened. I could still feel the hard press of his lips
against mine and I spat angrily onto the sidewalk. Looking up I saw him smirking at me a
knowing look in his eyes.
"Misery are you okay?" Racetrack had a worried look on his face and I schooled
my features into a pleasant mask aware that the disgusted look I must have been giving a
second before gave away too much. Nodding, I looped my arm through his and we swept
into Medda's dancehall. The light was dim as we made our way up a grand staircase
covered in plush red velvet carpeting. I made a sound low in my throat of wonder at the
beautiful chandelier that hung at the top of the landing. Racetrack smiled indulgently at
me and pointed his cigar up at it.
"Ain't that the best? Medda really knows how to furnish a joint." I agreed quietly
and he took me the rest of the way into a large room. There was a balcony with row after
row of seats and down below on the main floor there were tables with candles serving as
both decoration and a source of light in the center of each one. The room was more than
half full and bustling with activity. Men occupied both the balcony seats and tables
smoking, drinking, and talking. I saw groups of young men and women scattered here
and there and boys and girls who were dressed like the newsies flitting from group to
group. Jack and Spot both excused themselves to go talk to a broad shouldered boy with
a hideous scar down one side of his face who Racetrack told me was the leader of the
Midtown newsies.
"The boroughs each have their own section that they sit in when they come here,
but the kids go back and forth to talk to friends. That over there where Jack and Spot are
belongs to Midtown. Our section is up front along with Brooklyn's." Surprisingly there
were a few kids seated at the large table that belonged to Brooklyn. I saw Spot hightail it
over there after greeting Midtown and sit down next to a boy with the reddest hair I had
ever seen and a girl with brown hair that hung in a braid past her shoulders and a brown
tweed cap cocked jauntily on her head. I saw Spot point at me with his cane and suddenly
was under the assessment of three pairs of cool eyes. Stiffening, I looked down at my
feet. Racetrack gave a low whistle.
"Wow Spot just ain't letting you rest is he? You must really rub him the wrong
way for some reason."
"Maybe he's got the hots for her," Mush said pushing past us to flop into a seat at
the Manhattan table. Racetrack gave him a dirty look and I would have laughed at the
comical puppy-dog face Mush gave him back.
"Whadid I say?" Pistol cackled and gave Mush a wet willy which he yowled in
protest at and socked her on the arm. This brought about a scuffle that ended when Jack
came over and threw Pistol over his shoulder. Yelping in shock, she promised to behave.
"Christ, yer all animals I tell ya." Jack gave us an evil eye all around before sitting
down next to Racetrack and I. A waitress came over and everyone ordered pints as the
lights began to dim. I didn't notice that the Brooklyn newsies had situated themselves
closer to the side of the table I was sitting at. Our drinks came and then a spotlight shown
on the stage. The boys immediately began to clap and whistle as a woman appeared
wearing a black and red burlesque costume that left little to the imagination. Her hair was
red and her makeup immaculate. She began to trill a song in a rough Swedish accent
which amused the newsies around me to no end.
"The funny thing is she's from Queens, born and raised," Jack whispered to me
his voice dancing with amusement. The woman had danced close to the edge of the stage
and swept a large feather fan across Skittery, Mush, and Blink's faces to which they
replied with roaring cries and whistles. I hid a smile behind my hand as it was obvious
the boys were all enamored with her. By the time the woman, who I had been informed
was Medda herself had finished her first song, I was half-way through my second pint. It
worried me a little as I hadn't been drinking as much before I made my way to
Manhattan. I used to be able to drink even my brother's under the table and they drank
every day. After my mother died my father drank whiskey like it was water so alcohol
was nothing new to us. As Medda left the stage to be replaced by a line of chorus girls, I
was taken aback to see Spot sitting at my elbow, four of his newsies arrayed around him.
With shaking hands I accepted my third pint from the waitress and lit a cigarette.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Spot studying me again with that frosty,
unblinking stare.
"So you think you could out drink me?" I smirked at him arrogantly to which I
saw a flicker of surprise enter his gaze. Blowing a smoke ring I leaned close to him.
"Anytime." I saw his lips quirk up and he held out a hand silently which I took
into my own in a tight handshake.
"Good, I pick the poison. Whiskey," he commanded the waitress as she bent over
to take his order. I heard him order a whole bottle and two shot glasses and grimaced as
my stomach did a turn.
"Is there a reason that you feel the need to harass me?" He looked at me and
shook his head.
"I'll harass you for whatever reason I feel like and I sure as hell don't have to tell
you why." Hearing snickers I looked at the other newsies of his at the table. The red
haired boy was lean with a gawky appearance. He had hazel eyes and his face had bruises
that were faded to a dark yellow. The girl blinked back at me solemnly. She wore a white
shirt with green stripes and dark brown pants that had seen better days. I saw her dart
furtive glances in Jack's direction when she thought nobody was looking. She had a cute
face, one would never say she was a drastic beauty but she was by no means ugly. The
other two were hulking brutes with bruised knuckles and stoic expressions on their faces.
"Spot maybe you should lay off a little bit huh? Misery ain't done nothing to us."
Spot and I both looked at Jack stoically. I knew as not only a newcomer but a potential
threat that I had a lot to prove to them. More apparently to Brooklyn then my new home,
Manhattan. The Manhattan boys seemed to take outsiders in with open arms which
wasn't an altogether wise idea. Spot maybe felt threatened by the fact that I was from
Brooklyn and he had no idea who I was and I had showed up hiding at his docks a week
after one of his newsies had been murdered. It was a good assumption and one I felt was
more than likely true.
"We're just having a friendly little competition aren't we Misery?" Spot spread
his hands wide and raised his eyebrows in innocence that was feigned or I was the Virgin
Mary. I just nodded and clenched a fist as the waitress put the bottle of whiskey down
onto the table followed by two clean shot glasses. Medda had taken the stage again and
was singing a lively rousing number. As Spot and I began to down shot after shot of the
burning amber liquid I made my stomach muscles into a tight knot to combat any
nauseous feelings that would undoubtedly arise.
Half-way through the bottle I felt my head start to swim and I glanced at Spot to
see how he was faring. His pale face was flushed and he had a glint in his eyes. The
Manhattan newsies were half paying attention to the show on stage and the show here at
our tables. I felt slightly nervous as I realized that Spot was no stranger to the drink. He
wasn't even slurring his words and we still had a quarter of the bottle left. Suddenly he
belched and laughed and I knew by the pitch of his voice that he was intoxicated. I was
highly under the influence myself. His hand wobbling slightly he poured us out a shot
each and looked at the empty bottle.
"Ready?" I held up my glass and we tipped them back. This time I belched and I
heard laughter and saw Racetrack and Mush grinning at me. I held up my hands in
victory.
"Thank you, thank you." I then saw a half-empty pint glass on the table and
downed it without pause. Slamming the glass down I gave Spot a look.
"I do believe I just out-drank you sir." His mouth gaped open.
"No you didn't that wasn't yours and I don't have one to try to drink." I shrugged
and he glared at me.
"Enough you two, you guys are sauced." Jack's voice was strong and he thumped
a fist down onto the table. Spot looked at him ready for a fight, but then slumped his
shoulders and chuckled.
"Jackie-boy thinks he's tough," Spot hissed at me in what was supposed to be a
whisper but was rather loud. The both of us broke into peals of drunken laughter. I saw a
contemplative look on Racetrack's face as he hauled me up into a standing position.
"C'mon girlie it's time to get headin'." I nodded grinning foolishly and stole the
cigar out of his mouth. He looked at me warily but didn't make a fuss as I stumbled along
behind him puffing contentedly. Pistol slung an arm around my shoulders and this time
she had company singing her Irish fight songs.
"It hung above the kitchen fire. It's barrel long and brown And one day with a boy's desire, I climbed and took it down My father's eyes in anger flashed. He cried ""what have you done?! I wish you'd left it where it was, That's my old Fenian gun"".
I fondled it with love and pride. I looked it o'er and o'er I placed it on my shoulder And I marched across the floor My father's anger softened And he shared my boyish fun "Ah, well"" he said "'tis in your breed like that old Fenian gun".
I remember '67 well when lads like you and me All thought we'd strike another blow to set old Ireland free. But broken were our golden hopes I was long months on the run But it did good work for Ireland then that brown old Fenian gun.
I was down then in Killaluk t'was the hottest fight of all. And you can see he burned his arm there's a mark still on the ball I hope the young lads growing now will hold the ground we won And not disgrace the cause in which I held that Fenian gun
I placed it o'er the fire once more. I heard my father sigh I knew his thoughts were turning back on days now long gone by And then I vowed within my heart I'll be my father's son And if ever Ireland wants my aid I'll hold the Fenian gun.
That's years ago I've grown a man And I've weathered many a gale This last long year's been spent inside a gloomy English jail I've done my part I'll do it still Until the fight is won When Ireland's free she'll bless the men Who held the Fenian gun."
The boys hushed us after that song darting glances around on the
nearly empty streets. It wouldn't do for anyone against the fighting in
Ireland to catch us singing songs like that. I saw Spot and the girl
newsie from Brooklyn looking at me with respect in their eyes and I
smiled to myself before tripping and almost falling on my face.
Racetrack caught me and I smiled blearily up at him.
"Oh Race, such a nice boy you are. What would I do without you?"
His face burned in embarrassment and he slung me over his shoulder
after gently telling me to shut my yap much to the amusement of
everyone else.
"Racetrack's got a girl," Mush and Kid Blink danced around
shouting in sing-song voices. Racetrack growled at them and I giggled
bouncing against his back. The last thing I remember before I slid into
a blessed state of unconsciousness was the displeased look on Spot
Conlon's face.
A/N - I'm not sure when that song titled 'The Old Fenian Gun' was written but it's been done by various artists such as Sean Dunphy, Pat Daly and Willie Brady. -
Pokey7 - Hehe, I think everyone wants Race and Misery to get together but I may have other ideas for the both of them...
Erin Sailor Ditz - Who knows what could happen unfortunately I control these characters based on whims, muahah.. Fortunately for them my favorite newsies will not go unhappy.
Maybe I Don't Wanna Go - Patience m'dear all will occur in due time. That is a coincidence! I want to go to Ireland SO BAD!!! Someday I will.
We Built This City On Rock and Roll - Oh my god I want to hear Max Casella singing like Bugs Bunny, that sounds like a riot! Yes I'm hoping that the tension between the three adds something to the story because I'm sure diggin' it.
Cabby1 - Racetrack struck me as the kind of guy who would have a smart mouth but be very shy around girls, I dunno. That's how I'm writing him as. And yes Spot is very much going to be an obstacle. I'm still not sure who I want her with if either of them.
both trying to act as if nothing had happened. I could still feel the hard press of his lips
against mine and I spat angrily onto the sidewalk. Looking up I saw him smirking at me a
knowing look in his eyes.
"Misery are you okay?" Racetrack had a worried look on his face and I schooled
my features into a pleasant mask aware that the disgusted look I must have been giving a
second before gave away too much. Nodding, I looped my arm through his and we swept
into Medda's dancehall. The light was dim as we made our way up a grand staircase
covered in plush red velvet carpeting. I made a sound low in my throat of wonder at the
beautiful chandelier that hung at the top of the landing. Racetrack smiled indulgently at
me and pointed his cigar up at it.
"Ain't that the best? Medda really knows how to furnish a joint." I agreed quietly
and he took me the rest of the way into a large room. There was a balcony with row after
row of seats and down below on the main floor there were tables with candles serving as
both decoration and a source of light in the center of each one. The room was more than
half full and bustling with activity. Men occupied both the balcony seats and tables
smoking, drinking, and talking. I saw groups of young men and women scattered here
and there and boys and girls who were dressed like the newsies flitting from group to
group. Jack and Spot both excused themselves to go talk to a broad shouldered boy with
a hideous scar down one side of his face who Racetrack told me was the leader of the
Midtown newsies.
"The boroughs each have their own section that they sit in when they come here,
but the kids go back and forth to talk to friends. That over there where Jack and Spot are
belongs to Midtown. Our section is up front along with Brooklyn's." Surprisingly there
were a few kids seated at the large table that belonged to Brooklyn. I saw Spot hightail it
over there after greeting Midtown and sit down next to a boy with the reddest hair I had
ever seen and a girl with brown hair that hung in a braid past her shoulders and a brown
tweed cap cocked jauntily on her head. I saw Spot point at me with his cane and suddenly
was under the assessment of three pairs of cool eyes. Stiffening, I looked down at my
feet. Racetrack gave a low whistle.
"Wow Spot just ain't letting you rest is he? You must really rub him the wrong
way for some reason."
"Maybe he's got the hots for her," Mush said pushing past us to flop into a seat at
the Manhattan table. Racetrack gave him a dirty look and I would have laughed at the
comical puppy-dog face Mush gave him back.
"Whadid I say?" Pistol cackled and gave Mush a wet willy which he yowled in
protest at and socked her on the arm. This brought about a scuffle that ended when Jack
came over and threw Pistol over his shoulder. Yelping in shock, she promised to behave.
"Christ, yer all animals I tell ya." Jack gave us an evil eye all around before sitting
down next to Racetrack and I. A waitress came over and everyone ordered pints as the
lights began to dim. I didn't notice that the Brooklyn newsies had situated themselves
closer to the side of the table I was sitting at. Our drinks came and then a spotlight shown
on the stage. The boys immediately began to clap and whistle as a woman appeared
wearing a black and red burlesque costume that left little to the imagination. Her hair was
red and her makeup immaculate. She began to trill a song in a rough Swedish accent
which amused the newsies around me to no end.
"The funny thing is she's from Queens, born and raised," Jack whispered to me
his voice dancing with amusement. The woman had danced close to the edge of the stage
and swept a large feather fan across Skittery, Mush, and Blink's faces to which they
replied with roaring cries and whistles. I hid a smile behind my hand as it was obvious
the boys were all enamored with her. By the time the woman, who I had been informed
was Medda herself had finished her first song, I was half-way through my second pint. It
worried me a little as I hadn't been drinking as much before I made my way to
Manhattan. I used to be able to drink even my brother's under the table and they drank
every day. After my mother died my father drank whiskey like it was water so alcohol
was nothing new to us. As Medda left the stage to be replaced by a line of chorus girls, I
was taken aback to see Spot sitting at my elbow, four of his newsies arrayed around him.
With shaking hands I accepted my third pint from the waitress and lit a cigarette.
Out of the corner of my eye I could see Spot studying me again with that frosty,
unblinking stare.
"So you think you could out drink me?" I smirked at him arrogantly to which I
saw a flicker of surprise enter his gaze. Blowing a smoke ring I leaned close to him.
"Anytime." I saw his lips quirk up and he held out a hand silently which I took
into my own in a tight handshake.
"Good, I pick the poison. Whiskey," he commanded the waitress as she bent over
to take his order. I heard him order a whole bottle and two shot glasses and grimaced as
my stomach did a turn.
"Is there a reason that you feel the need to harass me?" He looked at me and
shook his head.
"I'll harass you for whatever reason I feel like and I sure as hell don't have to tell
you why." Hearing snickers I looked at the other newsies of his at the table. The red
haired boy was lean with a gawky appearance. He had hazel eyes and his face had bruises
that were faded to a dark yellow. The girl blinked back at me solemnly. She wore a white
shirt with green stripes and dark brown pants that had seen better days. I saw her dart
furtive glances in Jack's direction when she thought nobody was looking. She had a cute
face, one would never say she was a drastic beauty but she was by no means ugly. The
other two were hulking brutes with bruised knuckles and stoic expressions on their faces.
"Spot maybe you should lay off a little bit huh? Misery ain't done nothing to us."
Spot and I both looked at Jack stoically. I knew as not only a newcomer but a potential
threat that I had a lot to prove to them. More apparently to Brooklyn then my new home,
Manhattan. The Manhattan boys seemed to take outsiders in with open arms which
wasn't an altogether wise idea. Spot maybe felt threatened by the fact that I was from
Brooklyn and he had no idea who I was and I had showed up hiding at his docks a week
after one of his newsies had been murdered. It was a good assumption and one I felt was
more than likely true.
"We're just having a friendly little competition aren't we Misery?" Spot spread
his hands wide and raised his eyebrows in innocence that was feigned or I was the Virgin
Mary. I just nodded and clenched a fist as the waitress put the bottle of whiskey down
onto the table followed by two clean shot glasses. Medda had taken the stage again and
was singing a lively rousing number. As Spot and I began to down shot after shot of the
burning amber liquid I made my stomach muscles into a tight knot to combat any
nauseous feelings that would undoubtedly arise.
Half-way through the bottle I felt my head start to swim and I glanced at Spot to
see how he was faring. His pale face was flushed and he had a glint in his eyes. The
Manhattan newsies were half paying attention to the show on stage and the show here at
our tables. I felt slightly nervous as I realized that Spot was no stranger to the drink. He
wasn't even slurring his words and we still had a quarter of the bottle left. Suddenly he
belched and laughed and I knew by the pitch of his voice that he was intoxicated. I was
highly under the influence myself. His hand wobbling slightly he poured us out a shot
each and looked at the empty bottle.
"Ready?" I held up my glass and we tipped them back. This time I belched and I
heard laughter and saw Racetrack and Mush grinning at me. I held up my hands in
victory.
"Thank you, thank you." I then saw a half-empty pint glass on the table and
downed it without pause. Slamming the glass down I gave Spot a look.
"I do believe I just out-drank you sir." His mouth gaped open.
"No you didn't that wasn't yours and I don't have one to try to drink." I shrugged
and he glared at me.
"Enough you two, you guys are sauced." Jack's voice was strong and he thumped
a fist down onto the table. Spot looked at him ready for a fight, but then slumped his
shoulders and chuckled.
"Jackie-boy thinks he's tough," Spot hissed at me in what was supposed to be a
whisper but was rather loud. The both of us broke into peals of drunken laughter. I saw a
contemplative look on Racetrack's face as he hauled me up into a standing position.
"C'mon girlie it's time to get headin'." I nodded grinning foolishly and stole the
cigar out of his mouth. He looked at me warily but didn't make a fuss as I stumbled along
behind him puffing contentedly. Pistol slung an arm around my shoulders and this time
she had company singing her Irish fight songs.
"It hung above the kitchen fire. It's barrel long and brown And one day with a boy's desire, I climbed and took it down My father's eyes in anger flashed. He cried ""what have you done?! I wish you'd left it where it was, That's my old Fenian gun"".
I fondled it with love and pride. I looked it o'er and o'er I placed it on my shoulder And I marched across the floor My father's anger softened And he shared my boyish fun "Ah, well"" he said "'tis in your breed like that old Fenian gun".
I remember '67 well when lads like you and me All thought we'd strike another blow to set old Ireland free. But broken were our golden hopes I was long months on the run But it did good work for Ireland then that brown old Fenian gun.
I was down then in Killaluk t'was the hottest fight of all. And you can see he burned his arm there's a mark still on the ball I hope the young lads growing now will hold the ground we won And not disgrace the cause in which I held that Fenian gun
I placed it o'er the fire once more. I heard my father sigh I knew his thoughts were turning back on days now long gone by And then I vowed within my heart I'll be my father's son And if ever Ireland wants my aid I'll hold the Fenian gun.
That's years ago I've grown a man And I've weathered many a gale This last long year's been spent inside a gloomy English jail I've done my part I'll do it still Until the fight is won When Ireland's free she'll bless the men Who held the Fenian gun."
The boys hushed us after that song darting glances around on the
nearly empty streets. It wouldn't do for anyone against the fighting in
Ireland to catch us singing songs like that. I saw Spot and the girl
newsie from Brooklyn looking at me with respect in their eyes and I
smiled to myself before tripping and almost falling on my face.
Racetrack caught me and I smiled blearily up at him.
"Oh Race, such a nice boy you are. What would I do without you?"
His face burned in embarrassment and he slung me over his shoulder
after gently telling me to shut my yap much to the amusement of
everyone else.
"Racetrack's got a girl," Mush and Kid Blink danced around
shouting in sing-song voices. Racetrack growled at them and I giggled
bouncing against his back. The last thing I remember before I slid into
a blessed state of unconsciousness was the displeased look on Spot
Conlon's face.
A/N - I'm not sure when that song titled 'The Old Fenian Gun' was written but it's been done by various artists such as Sean Dunphy, Pat Daly and Willie Brady. -
Pokey7 - Hehe, I think everyone wants Race and Misery to get together but I may have other ideas for the both of them...
Erin Sailor Ditz - Who knows what could happen unfortunately I control these characters based on whims, muahah.. Fortunately for them my favorite newsies will not go unhappy.
Maybe I Don't Wanna Go - Patience m'dear all will occur in due time. That is a coincidence! I want to go to Ireland SO BAD!!! Someday I will.
We Built This City On Rock and Roll - Oh my god I want to hear Max Casella singing like Bugs Bunny, that sounds like a riot! Yes I'm hoping that the tension between the three adds something to the story because I'm sure diggin' it.
Cabby1 - Racetrack struck me as the kind of guy who would have a smart mouth but be very shy around girls, I dunno. That's how I'm writing him as. And yes Spot is very much going to be an obstacle. I'm still not sure who I want her with if either of them.