Part VIII

Lily pushed Spot away abruptly and quickly wiped the tears that had begun to fall from her eyes. A sudden feeling of utter embarrassment had suddenly come over 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 the house and sleep there tonight instead."

A confused look came over her face, and she wrinkled her brow. Lily 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 little water?" 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 tomorrow either. I got a few little 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 that look, not that sad face."

"I can't help it," she answered, still sulking, "it's the only face I've got."

Spot laughed, a 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, "the world 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! Damn you for changing my plans!"

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 once more. 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 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 though and rolled her eyes. In truth, 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 not have heard ya," he answered with an air of indifference.

"Whattaya doin' round these 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 these 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 his cigarette to Jack. Jack accepted it and took a drag. Handing it back to Spot, "Hey, what's wrong wit you these days, Spot?"

"Whattaya mean?"

"Well," Jack began, "I seen you three times in the last week, and every time all you do is mope. Mope and smoke and sit there wit that sour look on ya face. And then, there was that one little incident that I don't particularly like to talk about. But, uh, a few weeks ago ya practically tried to kill me for no good reason. Yah remember that one, Spot? Huh? An' so anyways, I was just wonderin' if there was anythin' 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.

"Is it Scotty? Cause if it is, jus' say the word and I'll soak 'em for ya. I'm getting pretty tired of him myself, and Blink don't like him none...Mush neither. With the three of us, we could get rid of him real easy."

"It ain't Scotty. I mean, he's a real pain in the ass, and there ain't never a time when he's not a problem. But no..." Spot shook his head.

"Oh," was Jack's response. It's that girl, he thought. 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 immediately go back to looking for 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 that girl, 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 little show? There's one I been meanin' to check out."

"Sure, Spot," Jack replied, smiling genuinely this time, "Sure."

~***~ "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. Despite the glory and rush she felt after her wildly successful performance, she felt overwhelmingly detached and disheartened. She was finally obtaining the gateway to the thing she wanted above all other things, yet she felt unfulfilled. But she could not understand why. How could such a good thing leave her feeling so empty? Where had she gone wrong in all of this?

She'd wiped away half of her painted face 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 out loud, 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. Though her eyes stung and the back of her throat began to burn, she choked back the insistent tears and tried to release the built up emotion with a deep sigh. All of her fame...all of her glory – it was all nothing without Spot. He was slipping away from her, she could feel it. And soon, he would be gone. Gone. She wouldn't be able tell him of the thrill it gave her to be performing on her own, she wouldn't have him hold her and tell her that she had done a brilliant job...she wouldn't have his reassurance, his comfort. But then, it was not as though she had those things from him anyway.

She had always possessed the comfort of his presence, but had never been able to attain approval from him with anything pertaining to her profession. He'd never told her she had performed wonderfully or that he was happy that she was prospering and on her way to something greater. At first, she'd been quick to assume that he was simply uncomfortable with the fact that she entertained men for a living. It would be a hard thing for any man to swallow, so she chalked it up as simply something that it would take him time to grow accustomed to. But as time went by and Spot did not become more accepting, she began to worry. She did not care if he believed in the validity of what she did, but she was saddened to think that he did not believe in her. She felt a droplet escaping from her eye and knew that it would soon leave a black staining line down her cheek.

Suddenly, she felt the short hairs on the back of her neck stand up as her skin began to prickle. Her flesh went cold though there was no draft in the room. She felt a presence, someone standing behind her. She looked up and in her mirror saw the shadowy reflection of a man – a man whose face seemed oddly familiar.

~***~

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. Jack had been right. Scotty had been right too, damn him. Hell, everyone had been right about her! Except Spot. As he thought about what an idiot he was and how much of a fool she had made him out to be, he grew even angrier. He hated being wrong, but even worse, he hated the powerless feeling that he had been left with.

~***~

"Who's there?" Lily called out shakily. Her voice wavered with a hint of panic.

"No need to worry, doll," a male voice said. As he stepped out of the shadows, she recognized him as the young man who had kissed her onstage. "It's just me...you remember me right?"

"Oh, yes," Lily said, forcing brightness into her tone. She was becoming very frightened, but knew that she could not let him see her. "I remember you."

The man smiled at her and came near. Lily's heart began to pound within her chest. A feeling of dread spread through her as she contemplated how she could take care of the possibly threatening situation politely and quickly. This skill was one that Mantovanni had never taught his performers. She would have to learn it on her own and from the looks of things, learn it quickly. She laughed nervously and did not turn to face him. Instead she communicated with him by speaking to his reflection in her mirror. "Excuse me for saying this," she blurted out, "But I really don't think you should be back here. It's against the rules, you know. And you wouldn't want to get me into any trouble." She flashed him a winning smile and hoped that she could convince him to depart from her by evoking his sympathy.

"Don't worry," he returned, smiling confidently at her reflection. "I won't get you into any trouble. We'll be quiet." He strode toward her slowly and placed a cold hand upon her shoulder.

Feeling his hand touch her the bare skin of her shoulder, sent chills of fear running through her entire body. Losing her hold on her composure, she quickly rose to a stand and whirled around to face the intruder, knocking over her chair on the transition. It fell to the floor with a loud clatter, it's noise resounding through the ominous silence that hung heavy in the room. "Um, sir, I do ask that you please leave this instant..." Lily began to back away from him, running into her dressing table and causing some items to fall from the top of it. She heard the breaking of the glass as each one hit the floor and shattered. As the vessels broke, so did her composure. She quickly backpedaled away from the man, but her pathway was blocked by a wall. As she bumped into it, her eyes grew wide with fear. She saw the man coming toward her and knew that she had nowhere to go. She tried to scream, to call for help – anything. But her voice only came out in raspy, whispery stutters. "I, I, oh, I.." Her assailant was now on top of her, pinning her to the wall.

"Oh, come on, I know you want to," he said, "I could tell by the way you kissed me. And if that wasn't enough, I see it in your eyes right now."

The man had reached a hand under Lily's dress and was attempting to paw at her undergarments when she heard a soft 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.

~***~

She waited up for Spot that night. She wasn't certain if he would come or what time it would be if he were to, but hope and her stubbornness would not 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 upon hours, butstill, no Spot. Lily rested her arms on the footboard of her bed and then laid her head in her arms. Within moments, she'd fallen asleep. But 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 to," Spot returned, "You got a problem wit that 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 whatever I want to do. I ain't gotta do nothing if I don't 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 this? Do ya? You think I like waitin' around for you all the time for you to get done with doing who knows what kinda shit behind me back? Do you know what a fool that makes me look like? Do you know how stupid they think I am?"

This was not the reaction that Lily had expected. Instead of the comfort she had expected, she now felt attacked. Not knowing which way to react, she did the only thing she knew how. She threw caution and gentility to the wind and fought back. "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 there sweetface....."

But Lily didn't hold on. She became even more infuriated by Spot's use of the word "sweetface".... the patronizing "sweetface." Her upper lip curled and her brow wrinkled. She didn't care about anything any longer. She only saw red. Spot was nothing to her, but her attacker.

".....I think it was you who doesn't care about me," Spot continued, "You always thought I wasn't good enough for you, Jo, didn't you? I could tell by the way you looked at me...by the way you acted 'round me. I wasn't in your plans then, and I ain't now. You think I care about my reputation? Well, I don't care near much about mine as you do about yours. Hiding me away from your boss! Not lettin' your friends know about me! Only seein' me at night and then takin' that away too!"

She spoke, her words intended to strike out at him and mercilessly pierce him in any way that they could. "Oh, but 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 the fuck do ya think you are? Huh? Miss Lily Fox! Ya think you're better than me? You think your betta than any o' us, Jo? Jus' cause you was some little rich girl who had a halfway unhappy childhood? Lemme jus tell ya then, lemme let ya know that ain't nothin' special round here. There's a lot of us who ain't got no family an' ain't got nothin' and we'se a lot worse off than 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 their dirty hands all over 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 nerve Jo? Did I? Was there some truth in what I said that you don't 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, ya seemed to forget something. You forgot that you're my girl, Jo. Mine! That means I can talk to ya however 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, that's right. Hey, maybe ya right, Jo. I don't own you. Everyone owns you. You're one marked woman, you know that? 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. "Hit me, I dare you!" Lily uttered in an injured, but still threatening voice, "Hit me!" When he stood firm and only stared back at her, not moving and not accepting her dare, she spat out another harsh verbal assault, aiming directly for his heart. "You know something, Spot Conlon? You're right. I am a marked woman. I am marked red everywhere you have touched me with your filthy....dirty...ink-stained hands! If I am what you say, then you made me into it! You dragged me down to your level!"

Spot stared at her in silence for a few moments before walking toward her. He lifted his hand, poised as if to strike her as she had done him, but harder and more violently. But, instead he lowered his hand, his jaw still clinched and his eyes burning blue-white with rage. Curling his lip in disgust, he spat on the floor, and then 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! You're nothing! I don't need you! You're just a dirty, stupid kid." Her voice was shaking with anger...and with hurt.

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. There's nothing more you can do. Let him go."

~***~

Lily was stubborn, 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 got angry and overreacted 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. As she began to stride towards them, her step was halted by a boy's voice.

"He's not up there," one of them called out.

She turned to see a boy clad in only blue suspenders and gray pants speaking to her. "Oh," she responded, "Well, may I ask where he is?"

The boy shook his head. "He ain't here at all."

"Well," Lily started, unsure of what she should say or do, "May I wait for him?"

The boy shrugged. "I don't care. Wait if you want. Don't know when he's comin' back though."

"That's fine," she responded quietly, and noticing a rickety wooden bench pushed up against that wall, carefully walked over to it. She could feel the eyes of other newsboys watching her every move as she walked. Lily took a seat on the bench and began to wait for Spot to return.

She had waited for what seemed like hours upon hours on that hard wooden bench, uncomfortable in the presence of the other newsboys. When once they welcomed her into their world during that birthday party at the tavern so long ago, they now stared at her harshly, distrusting of her intrusion into their territory. She felt horribly out of place and alone, sitting there waiting for something that may never come. In the duration of her wait, she thought about what she could possibly say to him when he arrived. Nothing particularly fitting came to mind, though. She had talked herself into and out of leaving several times, and when he finally marched through the door, she had her head in her hands and was on the verge of falling asleep.

He opened the door with a broad swing, and closed it behind him with a loud bang. The sudden noise had woken Lily from her sleep-like state. Her head sprung up and her eyes opened wide, alarmed. Spot had walked into the house, chattering vibrantly and laughing about something that was obviously delightfully humourous. She laid eyes upon him before he saw her. After he had strolled through the doorway, she noticed that in one hand he held a half-empty bottle and in the other, he held the hand of another girl. She was red-haired – her skin, flushed and virginal. She had a long straight nose and mere wisps for fingers. She wore a waistcoat of white and a skirt that was a soft cream hue. Her coat was a deep, rich green. Everything about her was fresh and elegant, and Lily's heart dropped into her toes as she watched her there, the girl's hand in Spot's, his eyes fastened upon her. Lily had hated her from the moment she laid eyes upon her. But she hated Spot even more.

When he finally turned his head to the left and noticed Lily sitting in the room, his face immediately fell. His happy expression turned to one of most unhappy surprise. When he allowed his eyes to meet hers, she stared into them, hoping to burn his faint blue eyes with her dark pools of fire. She rose ever so calmly from her seat and stood erect to face him. Her own words to him were a short biting remark. Through her teeth, she hissed, "Well, you're quick." And then, without word of warning, she made a dash for the door and stormed out of it.

Spot paused for a moment and looked from the bench to the redhead, and then back to the bench. He was not entirely sure of how to handle the situation. But as he looked to the bench and then to the copper-haired girl once more, he could not stop his feet from carrying him on the same path Lily had taken. He rushed to the door and swung it open wide.

"Jo! Wait! Stop!" he called out of it. But Lily did not stop, nor did she even turn around. She was already a far piece down the road, and her pace showed no signs of slowing or turning back. "Jo!" he called out once more, and but resigned to giving up. He stood at the door and watched her shrink into the distance, wondering why the hell he'd done what he done...why he'd moved so quickly. Why he'd run from her.

He didn't think he could fathom how much it must have hurt her to see him there, hand in hand with that girl. God, what had he done?