I am back! And immediately updating, this fanfic thing is fun! Thanks tons for all the reviews, I really, really appreciate them! Anyways, this chapter examines some different stuff, so tell me what you think!
"Kyro, wake up, we have to go," Ugly was in the Lodging House Bunkroom standing over Kyro, who was sprawled across his bottom bunk. A few other boys were hanging around and watching Ugly attempt to rouse him. Ugly glanced around self consciously and kicked the bed softly. She always felt awkward communicating with Kyro in public, like everyone knew what happened behind closed doors. Kyro rolled over to face her, his eyes were glassy and she felt a strange chill. He mumbled incoherently in response.
"He's completely drugged out," Curlup commented. Ugly looked over at Curlup, sitting up on his bunk. She felt her face turn red. She was sure he knew that they fucked; that she fucked a practically mute, cold, drug addict. She looked back at Kyro who had rolled in on himself with his back to her. "I could go with you," Curlup offered. Ugly hated to do a job alone, but she definitely didn't want to go with Curlup. He was a phony, self-serving little asswipe.
She gave one last desperate look to Kyro. She always felt safer with him on a job, but he would be out of commission for a while. "Its fine," she told Curlup, "don't worry about it."
She set out into the dark Brooklyn Streets towards the East End of Jamaica Bay. She kept the cold metal of her knife beneath her fingers, counting on it to make her feel safe. The streets were crowded with nighttime revelers, but she didn't trust herself to take the more deserted alleys, not when she already felt so uneasy. She had forgotten her cowboy hat in her haste to avoid Curlup's offer, so she bowed her head slightly while still keeping her eyes open. She felt a strange sense of foreboding. Everything around her seemed high-pitched and feverish. The further she walked, the more she felt that she was being watched. She couldn't help stopping every now and then to scan the crowd. She found herself become more and more nervous as each search produced no results. She was sure she was being watched. She quickened her pace, felt sweat prickle on her brow. She fumbled into her pants pocket and pulled out a cigarette; stopping to light it beneath a lamp with shaky hands. What was wrong with her? She dropped the match.
"Jesus, you sure seem nervous," she heard a voice beside her and turned to see Spot Conlon soaked in the glow of the streetlight.
"Have you been following me?" She accused angrily.
Spot shrugged. "I didn't realize it'd get ya so worked up," He lifted the corners of his lips, his hands resting coolly in his pockets. "I thought you was Roan's rough and tough little girl," his superior smile was not doing well to calm her.
"I have a name, you know," she said. She absolutely hated being seen as Roan's little slave, perhaps because it rang so close to the truth.
"What is it, by the way?" Spot asked.
She took a deep breath. "Ugly." Spot smiled.
"You're right, that's a whole lot better," he commented. Ugly turned and walked off; Spot fell in next to her. "So, Ugly," he smiled at the name, "where is it that a little girl like you is going this time of night?" he stopped for a second to let a woman pass and then caught up again to walk beside her.
"None of your damn business," Ugly replied.
"Fine," Spot shrugged agreeably. He continued to walk beside her. She quickened her pace. He did too. She slowed and he followed.
She quickened again, sighing with exasperation. "Look," she said. "This is really cute and all. Maybe we could do a little vaudeville act or head down to the ice cream parlor later. But right now, I'm on a job. I might get sent to jail or killed or worse. It's not funny and it's not fun, so I suggest you get back to your honest paper peddling and leave me alone."
Spot looked a little taken aback, but continued walking. She stopped and looked at him. "I just don't think a girl should be alone in the city at night," he explained. Ugly felt a foreign emotion. She had never had anyone try to protect her before. She wasn't sure if she liked it.
"Fine, please yourself," she gave in and continued walking.
They walked in silence for a few blocks. The city buzzed with the usual nighttime activity. Ugly hated to admit that she felt calmed by his presence. It wasn't as frightening as being alone.
"So, do you think you could tell me where we're going?" Spot asked after they'd walked a ways.
"Don't push your luck." Ugly responded coldly. Spot fell silent and she regretted her comment. She must sound so strange to him. She wasn't used to communicating with normal people; she spit insults at Lewis, Curlup and the other boys, rarely spoke a word to the silent Kyro and took orders from the erratic Roan.
They approached the docks in silence. They left the meaningless bustle of the lighted world and traveled into the darkness of the underworld. As Spot followed her through the narrow, winding alleys of the slums close to the bay, she wondered what she was going to do with him. If he insisted on coming, obviously he would find out where she was going. Would Roan be angry? She wasn't sure how he felt about Spot; if he was in or out, so to speak. She could threaten him with her knife and make him leave, but she didn't feel sure about that. It was too risky, and besides, she didn't really want to be alone.
As they neared the desired location, she halted and took a deep breath. "Listen Spot, I don't mind you being here. I mean, you might be able to help me out and all. But I don't think Roan should know about it, just because…because I don't know if he'd like it, you understand?" she asked him, her teeth chilled by the cold bay air.
Spot regarded her stiffly. His pride was being called into question here. He certainly didn't feel he should have to hide things from anyone to avoid trouble.
Ugly recognized this. "It would really help me out, is all," she emphasized.
This was a better tact. Spot nodded. "Sure," he said, with his trademark smug smile.
"Good," she nodded briskly. She walked over to a wall and peered up a street, scanning for any sign of the bulls. The street was quiet, washed in bluish color.
Spot leaned over next to her. "So now can you tell me what exactly it is we're doing?" he whispered in her ear, peering over her shoulder down the deserted alley.
"Its just a routine case, easy, just gotta make sure the bulls ain't out and about," she explained.
"All my questions are answered," Spot mumbled, following behind her as she walked cautiously up the streets.
They reined in at a door below a sign that pronounced "Wicker Inn" in crusty black letters. Ugly scanned the streets a final time, nothing. "Follow me," she said, feeling a slight thrill. It was fun taking on a virgin, especially since he had no idea what was going on. She enjoyed holding that over a smug little boy like Spot. She carefully opened the door and he followed her into the lobby.
A bearded, dark-skinned man blinked awake in the dimly lit lobby. He sat at attention. "Who's there?" He demanded groggily.
"We're here to see one of your tenants," Ugly explained.
"What the hell you visiting tenants for, this time of night?" He questioned, obviously distressed at having been awakened from his nap.
Ugly sighed, he better not make this complicated. "One of your tenants in room 14," she clarified.
"Damn bitch," he grumbled, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet up. "Well, get on up there." He waved his hand, mumbling under his breath as he settled in.
Ugly and Spot headed up the narrow, twisted stairway and down a dark, eerie hall. They passed by room 10, 11, 12. A subtle light radiated beneath the door of room 14. Ugly knocked a rhythm on the door.
Spot's eyes darted around. He felt a strange thrill, he was ready for anything. The door curled open revealing a curvy Spanish woman in a white nightgown. Anything but this. She had thick, dark wavy hair and big, heavily lashed eyes. Her nipples were visibly beneath the gauzy material of her negligee. Ugly heard Spot's sudden intake of breath. She felt an inexplicable wave of jealousy. Ugly wasn't bad looking, but she certainly didn't cause the immediate visceral impact that this woman's beauty did.
The woman narrowed her brown eyes. "Roan sent you?" She asked.
Ugly nodded. "We looking for Manuel," she said. Spot was still gawking.
"Emmanuelle, that's me," she replied, motioning for them to come inside with a delicate hand. Ugly was ironically surprised. Ugly and Spot followed her into the poorly lit room. There was a mattress on the floor, a chair, clothing scattered about and a little stove in the corner where a kettle simmered. Emmanuelle walked over to the stove and removed the kettle, pouring a dark, hot liquid into a cup. "You want some?" She asked, turning to them. "Cafeza," she explained, "it is the only way I could stay awake to wait for you." Ugly and Spot both accepted her offer and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Spot was still looking at Emmanuelle in a strange way. Ugly choose to ignore him.
Emmanuelle sat down on the chair, crossing her legs. She stirred her cafeza with a wooden stick. Then she reached in her pockets and pulled out a little maroon satchel. She pulled out a leaf and crushed it between her fingers, letting the remains fall into her cup. "I have a long night," she offered as explanation, taking a trepid sip. "So, you are here for Roan, who are you? I didn't expect so young," she commented.
"Spot Conlon," Spot said proudly, as if she would be impressed by the name.
"Ugly," Ugly said. Emmanuelle nodded slowly. Ugly took a sip of the strong drink, anxious to leave. She'd thought this was going to be a simple in and out deal. She was annoyed by this woman, holding them up with coffee or whatever this was. She was annoyed with the way Spot looked as if he would stay forever.
"So," Emmanuelle began, staring distantly at the wall above their heads, "how is Roan?"
"He's fine," Ugly responded, before Spot could spit out some stupid response.
Emmanuelle sighed. "I though maybe he would come," she seemed disappointed and deflated. Ugly looked over at Spot, hoping he would notice this. Obviously, she was interested in Roan, not Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn newsies. Spot didn't look like as if that registered. Ugly was getting annoyed.
"Its late…we really ought to get going," Ugly said rudely.
"Of course," the women said, jarred from her repose. She already seemed buzzed off her drink. She walked over to a suitcase and bent over, shuffling beneath her clothes and pulling out a large sack. She dropped it at Ugly's feet. "You tell Roan that's straight from Colombia, the very best," she said. Ugly untied the twine around the mouth and opened the bag, revealing glowing white powder.
"Cocaine? Can't you get that everywhere?" Spot asked.
"Not like this," the girl replied defensively. "It is the best." She was starting to get wired. Her eyes were shining and her limbs seemed to snap as she moved. "And for Roan it is free. Tell him to come and say thank you. Tell him not to send children to me next time. Or he won't get anything." Ugly felt chilled at her high intensity. She seemed transformed. Ugly put down her drink and hopped off the mattress.
"We'd better go," Ugly said. Spot stood up behind her. Emmanuelle's eyes were shining and Ugly fingered her knife. "Thank you," she said quickly, heading for the door.
"You tell Roan to thank me!" She called after them as they exited. "You tell him to come down here and thank me! You tell him!"
Once they had walked for a bit in the cool streets, Ugly felt her nerves beginning unwind. "That lady was crazy," Ugly commented.
"She was pretty," Spot said. Ugly sighed. Fucking boys.
Will boys ever change?
Will Kyro sober up and spout philosophy?
Will Roan find out about Spot accompanying Ugly on her little adventure? Will he be overjoyed?
Will Spot kick ass?
Will poor Ugly ever find somebody to love?
Will I ever tire of their little dramas? Not likely…A bientot mes amis!