A/N – I don't own Pokey, she is owned by Pokey7, nor do I own Spitball she is owned by My Dog Ate My Penname. Man I'm starting to lose track of what stories I told people I'd use their characters in. Eep. If I told you I would use you in this one and I haven't, let me know!
When Spot woke up the next morning he had a pounding headache. Groggily sitting up in bed, the sheet he was tangled in slid off of his bare chest. Moaning and holding his head in between his hands he fumbled about for his pants lying on the floor. Bending over and then standing up didn't improve the way he felt at all. Putting his pants on awkwardly he slung the suspenders over his shoulders and shuffled out of his bedroom and down the hall.
Their lodging house manager, O'Malley was still in bed. Spot shook his head and taking a deep breath began hollering for the slumbering Brooklyn newsies to get up. More than one woke up the same way he had, groaning with pain and stumbling about. Spot poked a sleep-walking Pokey on the shoulder as she shuffled by and the girl blearily stuck her tongue out at him.
Monkey, a tiny newsie about six years old trooped by with his short brown hair sticking up all over his head like a porcupine. He had his lower lip stuck out and his suspenders were hanging down at his sides causing his trousers to droop so that he had to perform an odd little walk, one hand holding up each pant-leg, a step-pull-step-pull dance. Spot rolled his eyes and grinned broadly at the little boy as he determinedly continued on towards the washroom, pestering Pokey to help him get dressed.
Pokey was the surrogate Brooklyn mother, she did her best to take care of the wayward Brooklyn newsies, but she often had to go stay in Manhattan to get away from them. Plus, the fact that she was seeing Jack Kelly didn't hurt either. Spot lifted a foot and nudged at the sleeping form of Riddle. Riddle moaned in his sleep and swatted at Spot. Spot shoved him a little harder, and Riddle rolled off of his bunk and fell onto the floor.
Shooting up and slamming his hands down onto his messed up bunk, he wildly looked around his black hair sticking up, brown eyes blood shot, while Spot snickered into one of his dirty hands. Seeing that it was just Spot, he rolled his eyes and laid his head down onto his mattress, taking a few deep breaths before lifting his head again and blinking.
"God I wish I was dead, my head is killing me."
"You shouldn't drink so much then," his girl Bourbon replied as she walked by, hair neatly combed and clothing already in place. Riddle shot her a venomous look which Spot echoed before smirking at her.
"You should talk; you're nicknamed after the stuff." Bourbon smiled sweetly and gave him the finger before sauntering off out of the bunkroom. Spot shook his head which elicited an agonized groan from him when a jab of pain shot through his temple. Muttering under his breath he decided it was wise to finish his own morning routine, and ducking into the washroom elbowed some of his fellow newsies aside and splashed water onto his face and head.
Drying himself off with a rather haggard looking towel, he made a mental note to visit Old Mildred and see if she would do some laundry for them later. Heading back into his room he threw his suspenders off and pulled on an undershirt that lay over the back of a rickety chair. After that he pulled on the same dark blue shirt he had been wearing yesterday and rolling the sleeves up, only buttoned the front half way.
Leaving his suspenders dangling down by his sides he tucked his slingshot in his back pocket and his cane into one of his belt loops. Completing his attire with his gray cabby hat, he thundered down the stairway and out the front door, putting his fingers into his mouth he let out a piercing whistle. The response was immediate and automatic. Newsies began pouring out of the lodging house, and he counted them off as they walked, trotted, jumped, or dragged themselves out the door.
Living in Brooklyn was different than in Manhattan. The newsies here didn't dance and sing on their way to the distribution center. They stalked along, eyes always searching for trouble, or stumbled, bleary from last night's entertainment. Monkey had clambered up onto Pokey's back and the sleepy girl was doing her best to keep him perched there as he chattered away animatedly.
Finally feeling sorry for Pokey, he swept Monkey off of her back and holding the boy in the crook of his arm, swung him along, the little boy laughing merrily. Spot wasn't above playing with the littlest boys every now and again but he was definitely not going to give the boy a piggy back ride. With a gentle admonishment that Pokey was tired and for him to leave her alone, Monkey ran off to pester Loon, another younger newsie with blonde hair and tired gray eyes.
"Thanks Spot," Pokey said, arching her back and grimacing. The mattresses they used were lumpy and thin, and it was rough sleeping on them unless you were dead tired. Spot shrugged his shoulders in a nonchalant manner and they continued walking. The rest of the morning passed by with no incident, although Spot began to feel like he was being watched.
For the third time that morning he ducked into an alleyway and scanned the street beyond with sharp, blue eyes. Disgusted with himself when he detected nothing out of the ordinary he reappeared and went on his way down towards the waterfront and the tenement where Old Mildred lived.
A few old women sat outside on the front stoop, stripping peas out of their pods and gossiping. They fell silent as Spot swaggered up, then continued talking in a flowing chatter of what Spot thought was French as he trotted up the stairs and into the building. Old Mildred lived on the first floor, and he knocked on her door. He was surprised when the door swung open after only a few seconds, it usually took Mildred a few minutes to shuffle to the door from her rocking chair.
He was even more surprised to see the whore from the night before standing in the doorway, one hand perched on her hip, the other holding the door open. A glare spread onto her face, and she went to slam the door, but Spot stuck his cane in the way.
"You! What are YOU doing here?" The girl snarled nastily at him, her cheeks turning crimson, and eyes narrowing. Spot felt his own temper rise and sneered at her.
"I'm here to see Mildred, what are YOU doing here?"
"She's my grandmother what's it to ya?"
"Megan who's at the door?" The girl flinched and turned to look behind her where Mildred sat in her rocking chair, a pile of mending in her lap.
"Some boy who says he came here to see you."
"Gabriel is that you?" Spot's shoulders hunched up involuntarily at the use of his real name. Nobody called him that, but Mildred had been friends with his beloved grandmother before she died and he was nothing but Gabriel to her.
"Yeah Millie, it's me. Can I come in?" When she voiced her assent, he smirked victoriously at Megan and shoved his way past her into Mildred's apartment. The air was slightly stale and reeked like corned beef and cabbage. Spot felt his stomach growl and he put a hand over it self-consciously. Making his way over to where the old lady rocked back and forth, he kissed her proffered wrinkled cheek.
Mildred was a small lady with soft curly white hair that she wore in a braid wound around her head like a crown. Spectacles perched precariously on the tip of her nose and her fingers deftly poked a needle in and out of the clothing she was patching at a rapid pace. She wore a dress and shawl that had seen better days, and smoked a pipe.
"How have you been Gabriel? Megan go get him a plate of corned beef and one of those rolls. I think we still have some potatoes as well." Spot held up his hands and tried to tell her that he wasn't hungry, but the loud growl of his stomach made Mildred smile knowingly.
"You're a growing young man, you're always hungry." Megan stomped into the kitchen and Spot could hear her slamming things around until Mildred mildly told her to stop. Spot wondered if she knew about Megan's evening job and stopped himself from leering when she said that Megan was grouchy after working in a kitchen washing dishes at night.
The girl came out, and thrust a plate underneath Spot's nose, followed by a fork and knife that he almost had to dodge. Grimly eyeing her to make sure she wasn't trying to stab him to death with kitchen utensils, he tucked into the food, cleaning his plate in less than ten minutes. Mildred shook her head, and asked him when the last time he had eaten was. Spot shrugged, lit a cigarette and said that he thought it had been a few days ago.
"So what can I do for you Gabriel? More laundry or are you actually paying me a visit without an ulterior motive?" Spot gave her a sheepish grin and felt his cheeks flushing slightly. Mildred was like that, she could see through him like he was made of glass.
"You guessed it Millie. Same price as last time?" When she nodded, he counted out a handful of pennies and handed them over, promising to bring the laundry by later that afternoon. He visited with Mildred for a little while longer, ignoring the pointed looks that Megan shot at him. When he finally got up to leave, he was rewarded by hearing Mildred tell Megan that she would need her help with the newsie's laundry.
The girl immediately erupted into a loud string of curses and stomped out of the room. Spot winked at Mildred and collected his hat and cane.
"That girl sure has a temper," he said off-handedly. Mildred snorted and gave him her own wink.
"You don't know the half of it. Do me a favor and bring me a paper when you come by later." Spot promised that he would, and started his walk back to the lodging house. This time when he felt like someone was watching him, he ignored it for a while until the feeling got unbearable and he swung around just in time to see a figure duck down an alleyway. Frowning and gripping his cane tightly in his fist, he muttered a swear and continued on his way.
When he reached the lodging house, he saw a group of Manhattan newsies sitting on the front steps. Blink and Mush spit-shook with him, and he found himself smiling at Pistol as she swaggered up, chest puffed out and hocked a huge wad of spit into her little hand. Making a face, he shoved her gently when she stuck the hand into his face and waved it around.
"Shake my hand!" she hollered until he took her hand and swiftly wiped it onto her cheek. A look of utter disgust passed across her face and she immediately began leaping around squealing in horror. Les and Snipeshooter were chasing after Loon and Monkey, and Spot was taken aback to see David there.
"Heya Mouth what's shakin'?" David shrugged and nodded at Spot. He was back in school now that his father's arm had healed. He sold papers every once in awhile, but it was rare that the newsies saw him on a regular basis.
"So you fellas have something on your minds or is this just a courtesy call?" Spot kept a slightly watchful eye on Monkey and Loon as they darted off the sidewalk and into the street. He didn't take his leadership lightly.
"Just a courtesy call, Pistol was bored and managed to talk us into coming to Brooklyn." Blink's voice was full of laughter, but his eyes were veiled as he glanced over at Pistol swiftly. Spot rolled his eyes and grinned. The two were mad for each other but neither one wanted to do anything about it.
"Plus we're going to go annoy Misery'n'Race," Pistol piped up as she methodically wiped her face off onto her sleeve. Spot felt his chest give a funny little leap and he scowled. Pistol calmly looked at him and he shook his head at her.
"You wanna come?" was all she asked her voice even. Spot growled a 'No' at her and then softened his tone before adding that he had to take the Brooklyn newsie's wash over to Mildred. Pistol cracked a wide grin and asked him if she had been smoking her pipe. When he nodded, she giggled. Pistol liked Mildred very much, and the feeling was mutual. Before the Manhattan kids headed over to Racetrack's, Pistol lightly placed a hand on Spot's shoulder and told him softly that he should come over if he had the time.
"Maybe," was all he said before turning away and going inside the lodging house after calling Monkey and Loon to him. Flopping down at the table in the lobby, he joined a spirited card game between Lynch, Pick, Riddle, and two other Brooklyn newsies Squat and Pigeon. After winning a few dollars each from the other boys, he grabbed Pigeon's pocket watch and glanced at it.
Seeing that it was time to go back to Mildred's he hollered for anyone who was there and had dirty clothes to put it into the two laundry sacks that hung in the washroom. Pointing at Pigeon and Lynch he told them that they were going to help him take the clothes to Mildred's. They nodded, and although they looked like they'd rather be doing something else, they didn't say a word.
Spot smirked and sent them up to collect the sacks. He knew Pokey would have gone into his room and grabbed some of his clothes; she was one of the few he allowed to go into his room unattended. When Lynch and Pigeon came back downstairs, each with a sack over their shoulder, both bags bulging with clothing and towels, he rose from the table, pocketed his winnings and leaving Riddle in charge, headed back to Old Mildred's.
A/N – I'm sorry if this chapter seemed sort of boring, but things will begin picking up in the next one, I promise. This was sort of a filler chapter. Err..yeah I know I suck, haha…
SHOUT OUTS!
BrkLnLady – Hiya and thank you for reviewing!
Kays14 – I know they could have been something huh? sighs too Spot is my favorite newsie too and I modeled Misery after me so I don't know why she ended up with Race. Race is my other favorite and I think I just had to have her and Race end up together after awhile.
JamieBell – I know what you mean, I just think that with all the arrogance that Spot has in the movie that he would seem like the type to also be a ladies man. He just had that attitude to him or at least that's what I think. I think that since they did so little with him in the movie that leaves it open to make his character however you want it to be. I pretty much model him after one of my old best friend's when I write his character. A jerk, but with feelings who isn't really a bad kid deep down although he acts like a perfect hooligan all the time.
xxIrish Roverxx –- ::mysterious look:: Ya never know, ya never know ;D
Nada Zimri – ::hauls out her crystal ball:: I see…glass…and a reflection of a person…oh wait..that's just me. ::tosses crystal ball:: The world may never know what those girls were up to but chances are it was nothing good. ;D