Disclaimer: I don't own Newsies or any other media references I may make throughout the duration of this fic.
Living in Suburbia
Starring: Bryan Denton, Patrick 'Spot' Conlon
Chapter 6: I'm a Newspaper Man
—Bryan Denton's PoV—
Life as a freelance newspaperman is interesting. I can write about anyone, anything, for any place. At times I will write for small, local papers in my hometown of Lindale, and at others on a higher scale for national papers, such as the New York Times.
The town of Lindale has always mostly been a nice, quiet place. It's a good place to raise a family and that's what most people have decided to do here. Lindale is a small town with a population of six thousand, two thousand in the slums, three and a half thousand in upper-middle class, and five hundred high-class members of our community. But behind these figures are people and stories I am waiting anxiously to document. You would never guess by their dull exteriors that the people of Lindale are full of secrets and stories, ready to be publicly unveiled.
One such case is in the house of Jeremy Conlon. Jeremy had and always has been a wonderful man and a loyal police officer. No person in his right mind would gave suspected that his own son, Alexander, was mixed up with the forever sought after drug circulation. Every officer in Lindale had tried to nail the illegal drug pusher, but he would elude him. He had to have been a resident for he knew who was who.
However, they must have forgotten Alexander's connection to the force and sold him bag-fulls of marijuana. Jeremy discovered Alexander's habit and turned him in. what else was he to do? If he protected his son he could be linked to it later. In an act of selfish pride and self-protection Jeremy Conlon turned in his own son for drug possession, forcing him to attend extensive rehabilitation.
Who told me all this? The mayor himself. Lord knows I could never resist a good story so the town of Lindale soon learned all about the Conlon struggle and failure.
==
The doorbell rang loudly and I hurried to it, not wanting to keep any potential visitors waiting. Outside stood a short boy with very light brown hair and piercing blue eyes.
"May I help you?" I asked him kindly, though still not opening the door in its entirety.
"Actually, sir, you can. My name is Patrick Conlon. Recently you wrote an article in the paper that concerned my brother, Alex."
He proceeded to tell me of the threat of Alexander Conlon losing his university scholarship and the looming shadow on his future.
You have to understand, no job can be done properly without altering someone's life. Whether it is done for the better or resulting in ruin, one cannot assume it was his fault. I had not written the article in reckless abandon, but instead in the thirst for the truth.
"Well son," I smiled sadly, putting on the most compassionate voice and face I could find. "I can't take back what's been done. That article is out and what's been done is done. Shall we call it at that?"
For a second Patrick looked utterly disgusted at my comment, but momentarily he shrugged it off and cleared his throat. "Sir, I'm not looking for even so much as an apology," I flinched. "But I would like your help with something."
==
"I'm sorry Patrick, I can't tell you who have me the information about your brother, part of something we call 'Journalists Code'. What you read in the paper about Sheriff Meyers is true though, but I guarantee he let it slip in a moment of unthinking and absence of thought."
He politely waited for me to finish talking before scoffing at me. "And it is not in this Code of yours to ask the permission or your...topics before disclosing personal information about them?"
True, the boy was surprisingly good at questioning the 'truth' and searching for the most believable answer in a virtual quilt of lies. He looked for every loose thread. Perhaps future journalistic material.
"I suppose that..." I sighed, realizing defeat. The story poured out of me, though changed to highlight and pinpoint the mayor for leaking Alexander's stay at Wincrest County.
With great respect and gratitude, Patrick rose, thanked me for my time, and headed for the door.
I never said I was perfect.
End Chapter
This is kind of the chapter marking the beginning of Spot's investigation into his brother's case and such. Please review. I think the chapter was a bit short, but hopefully you don't mind.
Shoutouts:
C.M. Higgins—I am convinced that everyone likes slash on some level.
Erin Go Bragh—my dad plays Queen on the way to soccer games to get us pumped up (esp. We Will Rock You, We Are the Champions and Another One Bites the Dust.) It works, I'm undefeated!
Icanreadncount—I just thought Virginia State sounded like a college. I didn't even know if it existed, I have nothing against Virginia Tech, honest. I live in Canada. We're sucking in the Olympics. I yell at the TV. That was random.