Tibby's was crowded for a Christmas Eve, full of mostly male patrons with nowhere else to go, or with a place they would rather not go to. The newsies walked in like they owned the joint, but Cook saw them coming and rolled his eyes, hoping they wouldn't be expecting too many handouts. Of course, handouts were all they were expecting, none of them having money to spend on a night out. Fortunately, there was one patron at Tibby's that night who had correctly assumed the newsies would be heading there after their show at Irving Hall, an old friend to the boys, and one with reasonably deep pockets, Brian Denton. He had come to see his old friends and to congratulate the New York Sun's newest reporter on her editorial debut.
"Well if it ain't the king of New York !" trilled Racetrack in his best hoity-toity accent. "To what do we owe the pleasure? Twice in one evening. What, are you hard up for story ideas too?"
"Well, I thought I'd buy a drink for the hardest working reporter in New York. I figured I could tell you guys about it, but you're too stingy to shell out the extra pennies to give a proper congratulations."
"Well Denton, I should probably get mad about that insult. I really should. But you know what?" Race paused for dramatic effect. "You're perfectly right."
Katie laughed an swatted him on the arm. "Well I guess I know who my friends are."
"Cook," yelled Denton to the unsavory looking man at one end of the small bar at the back of Tibby's. "Could we get a round of drinks for my friends here? Just put anything they need on my tab and I'll come by to take care of it tomorrow." He turned back to Katie and the crowd of boys. "Well, I really did just want to say congratulations again. It looks like you've got a bright future ahead of you Miss Smith. Now I don't want to be a damper on the fun you kids have planned here tonight. No sense throwing an old man into the mix to ruin the celebratory mood. You just order whatever you want and you can thank Katie here for my good will."
"Thank you so much Brian. Are you sure you don't want to stay for a bit?"
"Well Katie, it looks like you've got your hands full in the male admirer department," Brian said, smiling goofily. "But I hope to see you turning up at the office with another article for me sometime soon." He traded a few playful punches with Kid Blink before leaving the restaurant. It was obvious that Brian had gotten something more than a good story from the newsies, they made him feel like a young man again fighting the good fight rather than a struggling newspaper reporter rapidly approaching middle age. They took him away from his life and the problems in it, just as they took Katie away from her struggles with poverty and with her brother.
Katie was interrupted from her brief reverie as Mush handed her a drink, a glass of some cloudy foul smelling substance, probably what at Tibby's passed for gin.
The newsies were more than willing to take advantage of Brian Denton's good will, and the drinks flowed freely as they toasted Katie, Denton, Medda, there were even a few toasts offered to Pulitzer and his charity concert.
Late in the evening, Kid Blink, Racetrack, Mush, and Crutchy were huddled around a small table. Katie noticed Rat pacing around the densely packed table, trying to find a place to interject. Katie caught snippets of the boys' conversation, although she was sure it wasn't meant for her ears.
"…So I went to drop her at her place the next morning, and her pa was there with a shotgun!" This was followed by much laughter and back slapping among the four friends.
"Hey c'mon guys, what are you talkin' about? Hey guys, is there room for me?"
"Nah Rat, this kinda talk's got nothin' to do with you. Hell, its barely go anything to do with Race." Kid Blink tried to shoo Rat away.
Racetrack slapped Blink on the back of the head. "One more of those and you'll be getting a lot more than a smack on the head."
"Oooo, look at me, I'm shakin'."
Remembering Rat's desire to be a part of the older boys' "rowdy stories," Katie approached the table.
"Well hello boys. I certainly hope I'm not interrupting anything."
"Aw Niner, we was just getting' to the good stuff," whined Mush.
"Well I think that perhaps there's someone here who'd like to tell a story of his own." Katie smiled and scooped a struggling Rat onto the table top, scowling at being treated like a child. She whispered in his ear to keep him quiet. "Come on, I'll keep time, you sing!" She started stomping her heeled shoe on the rough boards of the floor and started Rat off with the first few words… "Une femme s'est assise dans sa cuisine…"
Rat's face brightened, and he picked up the melody from Katie.
"Son mari entrait tard de l'usine
Elle pouvait sentir la bière sur son souffle
Elle s'est enlevée doucement sa pantoufle
Elle lui a dit dans une voix très douce
« Tu doit prendre une décision mon pouce »
(Ben, si tes pensées ne sont pas trop floues)
Ma chaussure sur ta tête ou dans ton cul ? »"
As Rat sang and Katie kept time, she bent over and whispered the lyrics' meaning to Kid Blink, who promptly spit out the sip of drink he had just taken and started clapping along enthusiastically with Katie's beat. The translation made the rounds quickly, and by the time Rat had finished the song, all of the boys were clapping and stomping to encourage him. When he finished, he was absolutely beaming. The boys were quick to humor the youngest member of their bunch. There was some brief applause, and another round of drinks was ordered by all.
It was late when Katie stumbled out of Tibby's to find her way home. The frosty winter air went a long way to clear her head, and by the time she got to the apartment building she shared with Kevin, she knew enough to keep quiet as she turned her key in the lock. But no amount of stealth would have done her any good, for she found Kevin standing directly in front of the door, glowering. He took her by both arms and shook her roughly.
"Where have you been? That woman – " Kevin always referred to Medda as "that woman" as if what she did was so shameful, he couldn't even utter her name. "came here hours ago. Said she wanted to congratulate you for something. She didn't know where you were! So where have you been spending your nights?" He stepped back to get a better look at her. "All dressed up like some trollop wearing practically nothing with your face covered in make up like whore! What was she here to congratulate you for? A record number of Johns in an evening?"
He grasped her arms so tightly that Katie started crying, desperate to defend herself but unable to distract her brother from venting his thoughts about the dishonour she was showing their family.
"I knew, I knew the minute you got a job at that place that it was only a matter of time before you let them take advantage of you. How long did you wait Katie, huh? How long before you were taking those disgusting leering men back to your dressing room to show them what was under that cheap costume?"
She drew her hand back to deliver an angry slap at this last comment, but he grabbed her arm again, preventing any retaliatory blow. "How could you say such hurtful things?" she sobbed. "Don't you know I would never – "
"It doesn't matter now anyway."
"What do you mean it doesn't matter?"
"I mean the mill's hiring again. I went there this morning and got us both signed up. You start at 6, so clean that filth off your face and get to bed. And I should warn you, they won't tolerate any of your whorish ways there. I don't know if you remember what its like to do honest work for a living, but there'll be no back room where you can spread your legs for whatever foreman takes your fancy. Now get to bed." He pushed her away as if he couldn't stand to touch her for a minute longer and stormed out of the room.
Katie sunk to the floor in the middle of the room, too desperate to even find a chair. She took the folded newspaper from where it had been tucked under her jacket and held it up to the space her brother had just been. "Merry Christmas," she whispered.