After a long lunch at Tibby's, the celebration moved over to the Manhattan Lodging House. Spot lounged comfortably on the battered sofa, graciously accepting the many thanks and congratulations from Jack's newsies. Pocket drifted from group to group, playing cards with the older boys, marbles with the young ones. Everyone was excited and eager to tell and retell their part in the fight. Two sets of blue eyes followed her as she made her way around the room. Every so often she would catch Spot looking and send him a quick, private smile. She didn't seem to notice David watching her, but Spot didn't miss a thing. Remembering what Fiver had told him about the rookie newsie's interest, Spot made a mental not to pull the boy aside later for a "discussion".
Later that afternoon, the Brooklyners realized they'd better leave soon if they wanted to make it home by dark. Pocket hugged Slips and shook hands with a few of the other boys before turning nervously to Spot. Still resting comfortably on the sofa, the Brooklyn leader gave her a small smile. He waved his cane casually towards his men.
"I'll be staying in Manhattan tonight," he announced, earning a broad grin from Pocket. "Fiver, you keep an eye on things, I'll be back in the morning."
Fiver nodded in agreement, herding the Brooklynites out of the lodging house. Once they had gone, Mush decided he was hungry, so they all headed out, going their separate ways in search of dinner.
Pocket and Spot made it back first, relaxing on the sidewalk, they shared a cigarette and waited for the others. Racetrack was the last to arrive, but he didn't come empty handed. Somehow the crafty Italian had managed to come up with a couple of bottles of whiskey. Blink thought this was a fine idea and dashed off down the street, returning a short time later with his own offerings.
They waited impatiently for the youngest newsies to go to bed before they began celebrating in earnest. It didn't take long for the boys to grow rowdy, singing loudly and dancing drunkenly around the room. Spot, Jack, and Racetrack drank steadily as they sat at the card table, Pocket matching them drink for drink until she finally got bored of playing and wandered outside.
Having only tried alcohol once before, David stopped after one drink and soon tired of watching his friends get more and more boisterous. When Pocket left, he waited a minute before following her outside.
He found her relaxed on the lodging house steps, lazily smoking a cigarette. She nodded a greeting when he joined her on the stoop. They sat in companionable silence, staring up at the sky.
"Turned out alright today," she commented, remarkably lucid considering how much David had seen her drink.
She looked so pretty in the moonlight, hat off, dark hair falling halfway down her back. David had found her intriguing before, but today he had seen her fight like a man and face down brutes double her size. Rather than be repelled by this side of her, he was now more fascinated than ever. He wished he was brave enough to tell her how amazing she was, but instead he settled for talk of the days happenings.
"Brooklyn showed up just in time," he said.
She grinned. "Yeah, well, Spot likes to make an entrance."
"I still can't figure out how he knew, though," David mused thoughtfully. She grinned again, but said nothing.
"So, how did Spot find out when none of us even knew?" he asked her.
"Well, Dave," she answered, "I couldn't say. Guess you'll have to ask him yourself."
"Ask who what?"
They both turned to see Spot standing in the doorway, Jack just behind him. Ever aware of Pocket's movements, Spot had seen her head outside. When he looked up a few minutes later to see that David was gone too, he threw down his cards in the middle of a hand. The look on his face silenced Racetrack's complaints as Spot grabbed his cane and stalked to the door. Mindful of his friend's temper, Jack quickly followed.
He laughed quietly to himself as he watched Spot lower himself onto the step behind Pocket. He pulled her back into the vee of his legs, narrowed eyes on David as he staked his claim. Pocket rolled her eyes at the possessive display but leaned back against him, hands resting lightly on his thighs.
Swallowing nervously, David hastily scooted away from them, keeping a wary eye on Spot. The other boy smile triumphantly. Jack shared an amused glance with Pocket as he shuffled forward to sit beside them.
"What was Davey here asking about?" Jack asked.
Pocket looked pointedly at the curly haired boy, indicating that he should answer. Shifting uncomfortably David repeated his earlier question.
"I just wanted to know how you found out, Spot," he said. "You showed up at the distribution office just in time. How did you know we needed help?"
"Been wonderin that myself, Spot," Jack added. The Brooklyn leader grinned smugly and shook his head.
"Already told ya Cowboy," he teased. "I hear things. From the little boidies."
Jack groaned and pushed him for a better answer. Having heard the story earlier from a very apologetic Slips, Pocket only chuckled as Spot refused to say more.
"Well, however ya knew," Jack finally said, "I'm glad ya did. Didn't thank ya before, but I'm grateful ya decided to help out."
Spot shrugged, waving Jack's thanks away. "Well, I was in the area," he joked. "Didn't have nothing better ta do today."
Jack laughed and gave his friend a good natured shove.
"I'd be offended," he said, "but the whiskey won't let me."
David spoke up again. "So does this mean you've changed your mind about the strike?"
A heavy silence followed his question. Jack shot David a warning look then turned to Spot, fighting to hide his anxiety. Pocket, too, gave David an odd look before her face settled into a carefully blank expression, not unlike the cold mask that Spot often wore. The Brooklyn leader softly stroked her shoulder, his pale eyes focused somewhere across the street. It seemed to David that the tension grew with every second that Spot didn't answer. They all felt it, steadily stretching on, until David thought they would all explode.
"I ain't changed my mind," Spot finally answered, his words breaking the thick tension but replacing it with a suffocating sense of disappointment. David sighed heavily, the sound almost drowning out Spot's next quietly spoken word.
"Yet."
Pocket's head jerked up, she twisted to face him, her eyes searching his face. Spot gave her shoulder a brief squeeze, but directed his next words at David.
"I still ain't sure you boys are doin' the right thing," he said. "Today just proves it. You'se all woulda been in trouble if Brooklyn hadn't stepped in."
Jack and Pocket both opened their mouths but Spot held up a hand to silence them.
"I ain't gonna argue about what woulda happened," he told Jack, then looked down at Pocket, "and I ain't sayin ya ain't tough." Here he looked at David, who most needed to hear what he had to say.
"I came to Manhattan today cuz I knew ya was headin into a trap. That's all."
He turned his eerie gaze from David to stare down at Pocket, and some sort of wordless communication passed between them.
"Brooklyn and Manhattan have been tight since before Brooklyn was mine," he continued. "And since I took ovah, ya know you'se can always count on us, Jack." Jack nodded
"None of me boys wanna see anythin' happen to ya, any of ya." Spot stopped, moving his hand to toy with the soft curls that spilled over Pocket's shoulder.
"But this is different Jacky-boy," he said softly. "Think about what you'se really askin' of me."
David looked on as the two leaders stared at each other. Spot spoke again, his voice calm and steady.
"I'll think on it some more. I'se stayin' here tonight. In the mornin', we'll talk again, just you an' me Cowboy. Then I'll go back to Brooklyn and talk this ovah with me boys. I ain't makin' this decision for 'em."
Jack's face broke into a relieved grin. Spitting his hand, he held it out to Spot, who did the same and shook it.
Pocket stretched and pulled out another cigarette. She lit it and took a puff before handing it to Spot.
I don't know about you boys," she said sleepily, "but I'se beat. What say we leave all this serious shit for tamarra so we can all get some sleep."
The three of them agreed, suddenly noticing the lateness of the hour and the exhaustion creeping in. Jack clapped David on the back and stood.
'I'm goin in'," he said. "Pocket, gotta minute?"
She stood as well, ready to head inside.
"Hey."
They both turned at the door when Spot called them.
"I ain't promisin' nothin'," he cautioned them. "Ain't doin nothing unless all of me boys agree. But even then, the final word is still mine."
Jack looked like he wanted to say something, but Pocket elbowed him in the side and he thought better of it. He gave a quick wave to David before offering an arm to Pocket in a grand gesture. She linked arms with him, mimicking the sophisticated upper class ladies. With a nod to Spot, she followed Jack inside, calling over her shoulder as the door closed behind her.
"Night Mouth."
David stood to leave as well, but Spot stopped him.
"Wait a minute, fella."
Reluctantly, he sank back down onto the step. The smaller boy took another drag of his cigarette, watching David fidget nervously. Spot hadn't gotten the reputation of the most feared newsie in New York for nothing. He knew that sometimes, silence could be twice as intimidating as speech and he let that silence drag on. David tried to hide his fear, but Spot easily picked up the familiar signs. As David tapped his fingers and shifted his feet, the other newies sat calmly smoking. When he felt the anticipation had built enough to make his point, he finally leaned closer.
"It's obvious you'se a smart guy, David."
Spot had to tilt his head a little to meet David's eye, but his smaller stature did nothing to lessen the impact of his steely glare.
"So I figure I ain't gonna have to say this more than once." He paused, lightly fingering the head of his cane. "Don't go gettin' ideas about Pocket."
David gulped, he should have known this was coming.
"If I even hear about ya lookin' at her for a second too long, I'm comin' afta ya."
Spot looked like he was about to elaborate on his threat, but Pocket stuck her head out the door.
"Spot, ya comin'?" she asked, then noticed David. Eyeing them suspiciously, she stepped outside.
"Did I miss somethin'?"
Spot rose and draped an arm around her. "Nah, ya didn't miss nothin," he assured her. "Me and Dave here was just havin' a little discussion."
She raised an eyebrow. "Did ya discuss anythin' I should know about?"
Spot shook his head. "Nothin' important. Right, Davey?" Spot said with a warning look.
David hastily shook his head. "No, nothing important."
Pocket looked doubtful, but obviously felt it wiser to leave the situation alone. "Well then, if you're done 'discussin'" she mocked, "Will ya get your ass in here? Jack wants to talk to ya, and I'm ready for bed."
"Sure thing. Here I come," Spot told her. He shot one last look at David before going in. "So we understand each otha, Mouth?"
David nodded weakly. With a mocking tip of his hat and a knowing smirk, the King of Brooklyn went inside.