Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot qui l'admire – "A fool can always find a greater fool to admire him."
(L'Art poetique – [1674] Nicholas Boileau – Despreaux [1636-1711] )
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Chapter 8: Drowning
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Dislcaimer: I do not own any of the Newsies or related to the Newsies
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Medda's voice lingered on the last chord as I played the last few notes, trailing off sweetly at the end, wincing as I did so. No offense to Medda or anything. She has a great singing voice…just…off key with the piano…for the whole song. (She was a little sharp) Despite this setback, her performance was received by loud cheers from her male audience. Rather obvious they weren't here to hear her sing. As she bowed and did her thing, I quickly gathered up my music and tottered off the stage. Barely noticed.
Barely noticed except for the somewhat sober Hoitans who pushed pass me coming up onto the stage. I winced, clutching my injured shoulder and made a face behind the old drunk's back. The old man settled down on the piano, where he waited for Medda's signal to play. And when she did, her male audience were immediately entranced, taking in her every word. I shook my head and headed for the bar.
"Hey," I greeted the barkeep. He smiled at me, "Hello. Can I get you something?" I checked my pockets before laughing, "Nope. Looks like I'm broke."
"C'mon, how about on me? For a job well done?" he offered, taking up a towel to clean another cup. I raised an eyebrow, suspicious.
"No joke. Just a drink. Besides, you did a good job," he told me with a smile. I laughed nervously, "Alright…but I don't really drink. Besides, it wasn't that good of a job."
"How about a sarsaparilla?" he offered. Before I can answer, he poured me a cup of the brown fizzy liquid and handed it to me with a comical expression, "I'm not going to take no for an answer."
I laughed before accepting the glass and raised it, "well…bottoms up." It tasted a lot like Pepsi.
"So what's your name anyways?" he asked, putting the clean glass down and leaned over the counter to take the weight of his feet. I glimpsed a small portion of his well defined chest through the unbuttoned shirt collar and gulped the sarsaparilla. Which led to me choking and coughing as the fizz in the liquid burned my nose.
"Ow…" I complained, clutching my burning nose. He laughed, "that's a strange name. Ow?"
"They call me Boy," I retorted back.
"And they call me Rich," was he reply.
I laughed, "Rich? You look pretty gawddamn poor to me." He laughed in reply, "Yeah, I did not know what my parents were thinking when they named me."
I grinned. I was starting to enjoy his company… his oh…so… sexy company. No… Bad! Bad! I'm attracted to Racetrack… Raaaaaacetrack. I glanced down his shirt again.
…
Well… no harm in looking, right?
"Boy!" a familiar voice broke through my fantasies, er… I mean, thoughts. Yes, thoughts. I broke my extremely good view and turned to see who called my name.
"Racetrack!" I greeted the Italian Newsie with enthusiasm. He grinned, clamping a hand down on my shoulder, "C'mon! The rest of the gang is already here!" After that, he proceeded to drag me off, away from the bar. I waved and looked apologetic in the Rich's direction then held up the glass of sarsaparilla in thanks. He smiled and raised his eyebrows and that was all I saw before I was swallowed by the crowd, guided by Racetrack who was pulling on my arm.
Soon however, we arrived to a table near the back corner where not only did we get a good view of Medda's performance but we weren't in anybody's view… which meant the ruckus goes pretty much unnoticed by the other patrons.
"'Ey! It's Boy!" Jack greeted me, followed by a perhaps rather unnecessary slap on the back. I winced and managed a, "Hi Jack." He pushed forward a rather pretty looking girl who looked very familiar.
"Boy, I'd like ya to meet Sarah," he proclaimed proudly, "Sarah? Dis is Boy." I greeted her with a grin and a handshake. Of course! The fabled Sarah. She certainly matured wonderfully. Unlike the movie counterpart in the real world, her hair was a little longer and she had a little more… chest.
"Jack's won't shut up about you," I told her, "It's rather quite annoying but it's nice to finally meet the infamous Sarah." She blushed at the compliment and smiled, "Thank you Boy. Is that your real name?" I shook my head and laughed, "Nope. If it was, I think I'll come up with something more original than that but since everybody's calling me by that name, you might as well." She smiled and nodded, "It's nice to meet you too Boy." After that, she returned to her seat beside the Cowboy.
I wondered if Jack told her I was a girl…
"Boy!" came a familiar sneer from behind me. I scowled, turning to greet the speaker.
"Conlon." The sight that greeted me made me sick to my stomach. There was the mighty Brooklyn Newsie himself, lounging in the back and surrounded by air headed bimbos, giggling and touching him. I rolled my eyes.
He's not THAT great.
"Care ta' join us?" he asked, a smirk gracing his features. I snorted before replying in a sickeningly sweet voice, "No thank you. I'd rather not steal your women away from you." He scowled. Hah! That got his attention.
"You'se makin' fun a' me Boy?" he demanded, standing up, resting his hand on his oh-so-famous cane. The bimbos around him gasped and tittered in worry among themselves.
"Boy…back down," Racetrack whispered to me urgently in my right ear. Now don't get me wrong. Under normal circumstances, I would've complied and turned into a puddle of goo if Racetrack was to whisper urgently in my ear… his warm breath against my cheek… his arms around me… and his body firmly –
I mentally slapped myself. CONCENTRATE YOU IDIOT!
"Yea, I'm making fun of you Conlon," I snapped. We glared at each other.
"You'se wanna take this outside?" he asked, narrowing his eyes in my direction. Okay, this was perhaps where I should have stopped pestering the midget boy from Brooklyn and I had three very good reasons why I should have. One, I did not know how to fight. Two, picking a fight with the most feared Newsie wasn't exactly smart… and three, I did not know how to fight.
But I'm guessing that cute bartender slipped a little something in my drink for my reply was not one that followed common sense.
"You wanna go? Let's go," I replied, glaring at him. He snorted, taking a sip from his cup, "I'se not gonna waste my time on a stupid lil goil."
"I'm not a stupid little girl."
"Watcha say?"
"I said I'm not a stupid little girl. If anything, I'm much smarter than you my little midget friend," I snarled. He scowled, "I'se ain't yer friend goil." I snorted, "My name's Boy, not Girl. Thus, proving your stupidity in remembering names." I noted he did not rebut against my midget comment.
The table was silent as attention fixed on the both of us.
"Yer know what?" he snarled, "I'se don't care 'bout what you'se say 'bout me because you'se ain't got nothin'. You'se ain't got nobody likin' you. You'se know why? 'Cause you'se got dat smartass mouth a' yers dat needs ta' be shut!"
"At least this smartass mouth is connected to a brain!" I snarled back.
"Yer think you'se so smart. If you'se so smart, why dun't yer back down from the famous Spot Conlon," he asked, glaring at me and stood up. As he did so, his cronies from Brooklyn stood up as well, some of them cracking knuckles and few looking apologetic in my direction. I took a hesitant step back but held my place when I saw a flicker of victory flashed in his eyes. I scowled and seconds later, the sarsaparilla found its way onto his face and shirt.
"What, Conlon? Too weak and stupid to fight your own fights?" I asked.
"No," he replied with a glare as his female companions proceeded to try and dry him, "too smart ta' waste my energy on you'se but I'se gotta keep my reputation. I'se don't pick a foight wid goils." He sat down and it was over.
Over in the sense that Racetrack had dragged me away from the scene and now led me outside where I paced and fumed. I wonder what it would feel like to punch his pretty little face in…
"Boy… Boy!" he shook me.
"What?!" I snapped, annoyed.
"That ain't smart. You'se coulda be killed!" he exclaimed. I scowled, "I don't see why everybody respects him. He's nothing but a little midget." Racetrack frowned, "Careful what you say Boy. 'e's dangerous that one is. He ain't called da leadah of Brooklyn fer nothin'."
"I know, I know," I muttered under my breath.
"You'se gonna be okay?"
"Yeah… Just give me a few minutes."
"I'se gonna be insoide. 'E may be the most feared Newsie in Man'atten but that don't mean he can't share 'is goils." With a silly grin, Racetrack raced back inside. I muttered a scalding comment about air headed bimbos under my breath then resumed pacing.
Well! It was official. Racetrack, though concerned for my well-being, saw nothing in me except for a friend. And judging from the way he raced back inside to share in Conlon's so called treasures, a friend who needed little attention. I muttered an oath under my breath.
"Hey Boy, you'se plannin' on stayin' dea' fer the whole noite?" a voice questioned from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and smiled.
"Hey Blinky."
"Blinky?" questioned the eye patch wearing Newsie with a grin, "That's new." He handed me a new glass of sarsaparilla and I muttered my thanks.
"Don't like Conlon huh?" he asked. I scowled again. He laughed, "Guess not." His laughing demeanor suddenly vanished as he draped an arm around my shoulder to whisper in my ear, "Best stay outta his way. Conlon's dangerous and have 'is loyal followers. They moight see yer as a threat to dea' leadah and attack without orders. Know what I mean?"
I rolled my eyes, "Yes. I get it. He's dangerous. Stay away. Blah, blah, blah." Kid Blink gave me a disapproving look.
"What? Besides, why are you all so concerned?" I muttered darkly.
"We'se don't want you'se tah be killed," he replied in a serious manner then proceeded to give me a fierce hug and disappeared back into the building. I stood standing where I was.
I was choking and sputtering on the sip of sarsaparilla I had taken.
I clutched my nose painfully. Fizzy liquid…should NEVER go up the nose.
But as I stood outside in the cold chilly wind I felt a shiver of fear travel down my spine. Blinky's words echoed through my head. 'We'se don't want you'se tah be killed…' Which would lead to the belief that Conlon had killed one of the Newsies before… which would be a great reason why the others fear him so. Or…it could be he possessed the strength to be able to kill a man… which would also be another great reason why the others fear him so. To hell with it. I'm not going near that psycho Newsie either way. He's an arrogant pompous little jerk who needs a good, hard, spanking.
Hmm…now there's a thought…
NO! NO, NO, NO, NO!
What the hell was wrong with me? Then I grinned… I would've paid to see that happen. Conlon getting scolded or lectured on. Just to see him writhe beneath the embarrassment and shame. Unorthodox? Yes, but I'm sure it gets the job done. Besides, it would also provide for a great deal of hilarity and entertainment. I snickered at the thought and drained the cup before heading back inside.
Only to bump into the girl I saved from the clutches of the Delancey brothers.
I groaned.
"Oh! Oh…I …I erm… I didn't… I didn't see you there," she stammered as her face flushed hotly. I stared at her, "Er…huh. It's alright." With that, I hastily walked off. That girl was really freaking me out.
"Oh! Wait!" she exclaimed and managed to grab a hold of my sleeve. I stared at her, "Yes?" then glanced at my shirt sleeve. She quickly apologized and let go. She wrung her hands in front of her nervously. My ears heard giggling in the background and I felt dread creeping up against me. She had her friends along with her.
Oh…crap.
"I…I…erm… I… I was j-j-just wondering… if… urm…" she stammered, "if…if…"
"If?" I asked with a raised eyebrow. She turned an even darker shade of red, "If… you might… urm… want to get…urm… s-s-something to eat… urm… tomorrow?" I stared at her blankly.
'I can't believe she's asking me out… CAN'T SHE TELL I'm a GIRL?! Damn… do I look that good as a guy?' was the direction of my thoughts.
"I'm…sorry. I'm actually kind of busy tomorrow," I replied with a forced smile and turned to leave but was again stopped by her hand which had yet again, caught my sleeve.
I need to find less baggy shirts…
"W-w-w-what about now?"
"It's…rather late to be going out to get something to eat isn't it?" Oh my gawd… she was persistent. Of all the women… why did she have to be the persistent one?
"W-w-what about the day after t-t-tomorrow?"
"Look…I… I don't know how to say this… but I'm not interested in a relationship," I replied. Hey, it had some truth to it.
"It doesn't have to be a relationship!" she exclaimed then grabbed me in a hug. I stiffened. What the hell is wrong with this girl? I tried to pry her off me and when I finally succeeded I saw that she was crying.
Great…now I feel guilty.
I grabbed her by the shoulders and sighed, "Look… I… I'm… I'm not interested in girls." She stared at me wide eyed then quickly withdrew. With a fearful look in my direction she rushed towards her friends. I had to smile ruefully at the comment she shouted back.
"FREAK!"
Oh look, no stammering that time. I sighed and rubbed my temples before making my way back to the bartender.
"Back so soon?" he asked with a grin. I grunted and placed the empty cup in front of him. He raised an eyebrow, "More sarsaparilla?"
I shook my head, "Give me something stronger." He raised an eyebrow and I shrugged, "You can take it out of my paycheck." He laughed and in a few minutes, a foamy mug of beer appeared in front of me. I observed the liquid carefully.
So this was how people drowned their troubles. A wave of misery swept me.
"You alright Boy?"
"Yeah, yeah…" I muttered and took my first sip of alcohol. It tasted nasty and burned my throat as it went down but I forced myself to drink it. I made a face. Rich laughed, "First time drinker?" I managed a rueful smile, "You know it."
"I remember my first time," he replied with a far away look in his eyes. He laughed, "Horrible, horrible experience."
"I could only imagine. Well I suppose after tonight, I might share that same horrible, horrible experience." Rich laughed, "Bottoms up?"
"Bottoms up," I replied with an affirmative. Half way through the mug, I became just as intoxicated as everyone else.
Hmm…guess I have a low alcohol tolerance.
I must've been quite a sight. There I was, slumped against the bar and having a conversation with the attractive looking Rich. The half drained mug was still clutched in my hand.
"Yer know what Richie me boy?" I slurred, pointing a finger in his direction. He looked amused, "What?" I laughed, "Wouldn't you like to know?" He shrugged and answered an affirmative.
"You…are so fucking shexy," I slurred. He blushed and I continued, "NO! Really. You…are shexy." I giggled, "Shexy… haha, now there's a funny word. Shexy."
"SHEXY!" I exclaimed then slumped back on the counter with a mindless giggle.
"Er…Boy? I think you've had enough," he told me with concern as he tried to pry my grip away from the handle of the mug.
"NO!" I exclaimed, "You give me more understand? More!" I downed the remaining contents and thrust it in his direction. He looked at me uncertainly.
"Dammit, wha' you waitin' for? Fill! Fill!"
"Boy? Boy is that you?" came a voice from behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and laughed, "'Ey! It's Racetrack!"
The Italian frowned, "Boy, you drunk?"
I tried to look innocent and sober, "Me? Drunk? NEVAH!" I collapsed on the counter in peals of laughter.
"Her room is upstairs, the last room on the left," Rich told him. I struggled up, "No! Nooooo. Don't make me go back. I don't wanna go back." Racetrack managed to pull me off the barstool and threw my arm over his shoulders so that he would be able to support me up the stairs.
"C'mon Boy," he told me, voice laced with concern, "best be gettin' you'se ta' bed now."
"I don't wanna go to bed," I replied in a whiny voice. I could feel him grin.
"You'se gonna hafta if you still wan' Medda payin' yer," he told me. After struggling up the stairs, he managed to drag me to the end of the hallway and propped me up against the wall.
"Boy, whea's da key?" he asked, frowning at the locked door. I giggled, "In my pocket." I fished it out and showed it to him, "Seeeeee?"
He snatched it away and I was about to let out a wail when he quickly shoved me inside as to not disturb anybody in the hallway. He directed me to the bed and set me down, panting.
"Do me a favor next time you'se wanna drink Boy. Don't," he muttered and stood up to leave. I let out a whimper and he turned to look at me, "What?"
"Please…stay with me? I'm afraid of that scary girl… she's going to come back again," I cried. He raised an eyebrow in my direction and a smile tugged on his oh so sexy lips, "scary goil?"
I looked at him tearfully, "Pweeeease?" He sighed and ran a hand through his hair then looked back at me, "Fine. But only until you fall asleep okay?"
I nodded eagerly, "Okay, okay." Then I shifted to make room on the bed for him. He looked at me hesitantly.
"Boy…you'se drunk."
"I'm not drunk!"
"Yes, you are."
"Please?"
With another sigh of defeat he settled down on the bed and I curled up against him in content.
"Thank you…" and then my world went black.
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End of Chapter 8
Sapphy: Now now, we don't want them cops to be on to us now would we?
Brownie/Melody: OMG… Pulitzer rape? Weasel rape? That's… just… so… horribly… wrong!
erisnymph: I know… and here's another update! Yaaay! Took a long time though… OO I'm not sure I'm digging what I'm doing to Mush either… Hmm… In any case, critique would be more than welcome. If I don't improve, shameless self-insertions would turn into mary-sues! Oh the horror! In any case, I hope you settled your desire to see Conlon and Racetrack to some degree… I think? And mucho thankies for the review
ember: And there's another update. Dance for meeeee!
shamrock rocker: And I shall write more! Bwahahahahaha! Thanks for the review!
Pencil3: Erm… actually I'm not American. Ahaha… sweatdrop And thanks for the review on my KA fic…which reminded me that I had this chapter to finish up… dies
SS 3EVR: Thanks! And here's your update.
Arroz: I present… the rest of the story! Or at least, the next chapter of it. Thanks for the review!
Martini: Thanks and I will!
erisnymph: Heeeey. I got another review from you! Awesome! And the problem was rather a combination of both… I lost my files because I was moving… TT Then my dad's friend reformatted my computer… then I lost the disk the chapter was burned on… and then there was school… but yes, I know, I'm only making excuses. Ahahaha… er.. yeah.
Chronicles Bailey: thanks for the review!
lena-jade: Now there's an over exaggeration. I'm sure there are quite a few mistakes in the fic. ;; My English teacher was always on my case with grammar. But thanks for the review!
TheAngryPrincess13: Racetrack is hotter!
Ow…hand cramp.