Author note: I am being lazy and not wanting to update, yet I do want to update. I'm just cool like that.
Four months passed increasingly, which led me to be five months pregnant. My stomach grew quickly, and my mood changed periodically. I could tell that Spot was restless from my pregnancy, but that doesn't matter.
Scout and Jack's relationship grew, which was a very good thing.
I awoke at 10 a.m. on January twentieth, and immediately jumped out of bed, rushing to the washroom. I leaned over the toilet and emptied my stomach. I hated morning sickness!
I washed up quickly and walked into the empty kitchen. Spot was long gone to work, so I sat down at the kitchen table and drank a hot cup of coffee. Spot still kept his title as King of Brooklyn, and visited his boys every chance he got. Now and then he'd sell papes, but not as much as he used to.
I scanned over the morning paper, not really interested in the articles. Cookie ran into the kitchen and barked a few times. A pounding then came upon the door.
I groaned and rose to my feet, wobbling to the door. I pulled it open and glared at Mrs. Peterson. She was one of the cranky old women who lived on our floor. Her hair was always in a tight bun on top of her head, and always had her lips pursed like she was better than you.
"Mrs. Peterson," I said coldly, not in the mood for her bitch fit.
"You need to control that beast in there. Woke me up it did," Mrs. Peterson said, her southern accent making me shudder.
"My dog isn't a beast!" I snapped. "And, he didn't wake you up because you couldn't have been sleeping; you're fully dressed!" Mrs. Peterson gasped.
"How dare you speak to me in such a rude manner!" she exclaimed.
"How dare you come to my door and piss me off!" I yelled. I then slammed the door shut in her face, and willed her to die! I could hear her fussing on the other side of the door, but ignored her completely.
I tidied up the apartment a bit, which wasn't much since Spot was good at cleaning after himself.
Just as it neared noon, yet, another knock came upon my door. I sent it a glare and wobbled over, cursing in my head. I pulled the door opened and stared surprised at Jack.
"Hey," he said, nodding to me. "Is Spot around?" I leaned against the doorframe and stared confusedly at him.
"No; he's at work," I said. Jack sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"Oh," he muttered. "What time does he get off?"
"Around six," I shrugged. Jack cursed, and sighed once again.
"A'right," he said. "Can ya give dis to 'im?" Jack handed me an envelope, and I simply nodded, taking it.
"I'll make sure he gets it," I said. Jack nodded,
"Thanks," he said before leaving. I watched him walk down the hallway, and then disappear down the stairs. I merely shrugged and laid the envelope down, which was labeled "Brooklyn" and left our apartment.
I wore a jacket tightly around me as a breeze made my hair dance to its rhythm. I cursed the cold weather and its evil winds of doom as I walked down the sidewalk.
It was nice taking a walk through one of New York's most dangerous cities. Okay, I had to admit, even though I've been living here for quite some time, it was kind of creepy. Everyday awaited a new danger, which was desperately plastered in the papers.
I inaudibly walked to the market to buy something to cook tonight. Spot would pretty much eat anything I made, except for broccoli soup.
I held a basket in my hand and walked from vendor to vendor, examining the different kinds of fruits and vegetables, and whatever else there was.
I placed a few things in my basket, and paid each vendor I bought something from; until I bought everything I needed and headed off for the bakery.
I loved the bakery, it smelt so good on the inside, and made you feel welcomed. I don't know what my fascination was with bread, but whatever.
I entered the bakery and smiled warmly at the man behind the counter.
"Afternoon, Mr. Adkins," I greeted the sweet, chubby man.
"Ah, Mrs. Conlon, welcome," he said, grinning. "The usual I presume?"
"Yes sir," I said, nodding. Mr. Adkins quickly walked into the back of the bakery, and came back with a few loaves of bread.
"Will this be all?" he asked, glancing over at me.
"Yes," I said kindly. The man smiled as I paid him and headed of back down the street. Every alleyway I passed had some man or woman passed out, either drunk or homeless. I shrugged it off and kept my quick yet slow pace as I neared Jefferson's Furniture Shop, where Spot worked. I usually went passed it every time I went shopping, but never really stopped by to say hi to my husband.
I stopped right outside of the shop and peaked into the window. There was a man standing in front of the counter, Spot behind it, helping him.
Spot's eyes found their way to me, and he quickly motioned for me to come inside. I grinned and walked into the little shop.
"And when can ya pick dat up?" Spot asked the man.
"Friday," the man told him. Spot scribbled down on a piece of paper and nodded, putting the pencil behind his ear.
"A'right Mr. Carter, we'll have it done by Friday," Spot said. The man thanked him and pulled his bowler hat onto his head and turned around, leaving the shop. I walked up to the spot where the man once stood and smiled at my husband.
"Hey," I greeted him as he leaned over the counter and kissed me.
"Hey," he replied, grinning. "Where ya been?" I looked down at the basket of food at my side and rolled my eyes.
"Out and about with different men," I joked. Spot stared at me blankly. He didn't think I was serious, did he?
"Funny, Sage, funny," he said, rolling his eyes. I laughed slightly and placed the basket to the side of the counter.
"Tired?" I asked.
"Always," Spot answered, referring to work and his pregnant wife: me!
"Aw, poor Spot!" I said in a babyish voice. Spot smiled as one of his new friends, Jacob Talbert, walked out of the back room.
"Hey Sage," he greeted me. I smiled,
"Hey Jacob." I then turned back to my husband. "I'll see you tonight," I told him, giving him one last kiss.
"Bye," he said as I left the shop. I continued down the street and to our apartment, a bit tired from walking so much.
I walked into mine and Spot's apartment and began to put the food away. I hummed to myself as I walked back out into the hallway. It was time to pay Mr. Crawford, the landlord, our rent.
I walked over to his room and loudly knocked on the door. It slowly opened and his all too perky wife poked her head out.
"Hello Mrs. Crawford," I greeted the woman.
"Hello Sage!" she said. I quickly handed her the money and made my escape from a very long and boring conversation.
I walked back up the stairs, and ran into someone as I walked to my room.
"Oh, excuse me," Daryl Hark said, looking me up and down. Daryl Hark was a twenty-five year old lawyer, who had slicked back dark brown hair and the scariest green eyes I'd ever seen. He didn't live on our floor, but I always found him creeping down here.
I knew he had a little crush for me, even if I was only eighteen, but I didn't think he liked me enough to spy on me.
"Uh, no problem," I said, glancing over at my apartment door, wishing I could just run to it.
"So, where is your boyfriend, Sage?" Daryl asked, cringing at the word "boyfriend."
"Spot is my husband, Daryl," I corrected my stalker.
"Of course," Daryl said. "So, where is he?"
"He's at work," I said, sighing.
"Oh?" Daryl said. He stepped a little close to me, trying to keep a serious face.
"Yes, and now I have to go." I made a move to leave, but Daryl gently grabbed my arm. His touch disgusted me.
"Maybe you'd like to go grab some lunch," he said. I eyed his hand and then looked up at him.
"No thank you," I said, jerking my arm out of his grasp. Daryl sighed in defeat and chuckled.
"Well, then maybe another day," he said. I rolled my eyes and shook my head, walking away. Spot knew about Daryl having a "little" crush on me, but he never knew that Daryl was obsessed. Even though I was pregnant and married, Daryl just wouldn't back off.
And I wasn't the only one who had a stalker. Casey Thompson was practically "in love" with Spot. I don't even think she knows that I'm his wife! She'd always knock on the door and ask for Spot, and when he did talk to her, she was technically begging for him to sleep with her.
She was about twenty years old, and didn't have a job. I was surprised she wasn't a prostitute.
I walked into our apartment, and stared cooking dinner for Spot and I.
I ate dinner alone, and left Spot's plate out on the table and laid down on the couch, watching the clock change from six to seven, and then from seven to eight, until finally Spot came home at about nine.
"Hey," he greeted me, hanging his coat up. "Sorry I'm late; Mr. Walker had me do some last minute stuff. I get paid extra for it though." I simply nodded and yawned as Spot walked over to the kitchen table and began to eat.
"There's an envelope for you," I said, waving my hand at the table. Spot eyed it before picking it up, swallowing his food.
"From Jacky-boy?" he asked me.
"Yeah," I said, still lying on the couch. I watched as Spot opened it and scanned over the letter inside. He rolled his eyes from time to time, and then finished reading.
"Dem damn Harlem dumbasses!" Spot growled, glaring down at the envelope. I quickly rose from the couch to a sitting position and stared at him.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"Some of da Harlem newsies is enterin Manhattan territory, sellin there." I furrowed my eyebrows.
"I thought you beat them," I said, rising to my feet and taking a seat beside Spot at the table.
"So did I," he said, biting into his food. I sighed and rested my head in my palm.
"Do you get tomorrow off?" I asked, closing my eyes briefly.
"Yep!" Spot said, smiling. I smiled too, trying not to fall asleep on the table. I knew Spot had to be just as tired as me, but he didn't show it.
"Daryl asked me to have lunch today," I said, burying my head into my arms.
"Dumb bastard won't take da hint?" Spot asked.
"No," I said into my arms. Spot rubbed my back lovingly.
"I'll kill 'im," he said. I smiled to myself, proud that I found the perfect man for me.
Next Chapter: Danger lurks through the streets and alleyways of New York, but the most danger lies within Brooklyn.
A life is threatened, a murder is witnessed, and a love falls apart.
Author note: This chapter was pointless…completely pointless. But you know what? I don't care. Do you know why? Because I'm sleepy. So, good night. LONG LIVE SPOT AND SAGE!