I do not own Newsies or any of the Newsies characters. To the best of my knowledge they are owned by Disney.
I am making no money from this story.
SLASH. Jack/Oscar Jack/David
A/N: This story was written for Lady of Tir Na Nog in honor of her birthday.
This story has not been beta'd. I hope that any rough patches will not be too distracting.
Chapter 6 - Missing
For the next three days, Jack was consumed with worry over Oscar. He'd said that he would only be gone for the day, and that he would return home that same evening, but there was still no sign of him. Morris claimed that his brother had taken a job at the Brooklyn distribution center, but it didn't seem likely. What did seem likely was that Morris was making up the entire story to get under Jack's skin. Even if Oscar had taken another job, Brooklyn wasn't that far away, and he could have come and told Jack himself.
The idea that something might have happened to Mrs. Delancey had crossed Jack's mind, but Morris was being his usual obnoxious self. If something had happened to his mother even he would show some signs of distress. Jack hated doing it, but he checked the obituaries for her name just to be sure. He was relieved to find that she was not listed among the departed.
Each morning, Morris took great pleasure in torturing Jack. Things came to a head on the forth day when Jack went to buy his papers.
"I got a message from my brother last night," Morris smirked. "He's doin' real good out there in Brooklyn. He says that they fired the distribution chief and hired a young guy to take his place. He must like my brother a whole lot because this guy offered him a job as his assistant. Oscar says he's is real nice, and looks more like a stage actor than a crew chief."
The pulse in Jack's jaw was visible as he clenched his teeth together. He wanted to pull Morris' face through the window bars, but he remained calm. There was no way that Jack would allow Morris to get the better of him. He put on the most dazzling smile he could muster and played along.
"We've finally gotten rid of that pain-in-the-ass brother of yours. Now all we have to do is to get rid of you, and I can die a happy man."
"Well, you couldn't die soon enough for me," Morris spat.
That evening, Jack informed Race that he was headed for Brooklyn to meet with the infamous Spot Conlon. Race grabbed his hat and coat from the bedpost, but was stopped in his tracks.
"Where the hell do you think you're goin'?" Jack asked with a firm thump to his friend's chest.
"Where do I think I'm goin'? I'm goin' with you."
"You ain't goin' anywhere, pal. I need you to stay here and keep an eye on the boys."
"Everything is fine around here. Specs can hold down the fort while we're gone."
"You mean that Specs can help you hold down the fort until I get back."
"Are you stupid or somethin'? There's no way I'm gonna let you go to Brooklyn without me. Conlon and his boys are nothin' to mess around with. Only a fool would travel into their territory alone."
"Don't argue with me, Race. I've got personal business with Spot, and I can't take care of that if I'm worried about how things are goin' back here. I need you to do what I'm askin' and back me up on this. I'll be back tomorrow night."
"If you're not back here by this time tomorrow, me and the guys are ganna come lookin' for ya. And you'd better be dead because if you ain't I'm gonna kill you myself."
"Fair enough," Jack nodded.
The trip into Brooklyn seemed longer than usual, and it gave Jack too much time to think.
"Maybe Oscar did get a new job, like Morris said," Jack mumbled as he walked, "But why the hell didn't he tell me? And why would he disappear after the other night? That was the best damn night we ever had. Is he tryin' to teach me a lesson or somethin'? . . . . Hell no! Oscar wouldn't do that. Somethin' must've happened to him." The thought of Oscar being hurt, or worse, made Jack freeze in his steps. "Get a grip, Kelly!" he scolded himself.
Jack didn't even notice the strange looks he was getting from passers bye. He kept on walking and talking to himself until he reached the dock that was Spot's home.
Jack was greeted with the usual distrust and disdain from Spot's boys. The hair prickled on the back of his neck, but he is face showed no emotion as he walked the gauntlet to meet with Brooklyn's leader.
"How's it rollin' Jackey-boy?" Spot asked as they exchanged a spit-shake. "What brings you to this side of the bridge?"
"I'm here to talk a little business with you," Jack said, glaring at Spot's boys . . . . Private business."
"Sure thing," Spot said nodding his head in the direction of the dilapidated building. "Let's go up to my office."
Jack glanced around the room that Spot called his office, but was actually his living quarters. There was a bed, a table with two mismatched chairs, and little else. The lodging house on Duane Street seemed like a mansion compared to the Brooklyn newsie's home.
"So, what gives, Jackey-boy?" Spot asked as he set a bottle of Irish whiskey and two dented tin cups on the table.
"I came to ask if you had any trouble with the guys that drove in with the new delivery wagons on Monday."
"Nah. Pulitzer sent some goons along with the drivers in-case there was any trouble, but our problem wasn't with those guys it was with the distribution manager. The bum had a habit of givin' the boys a short count when they was buying their papes. He had his guys rough up a couple of my boys when they started complainin'. We sent 'im a message by burnin' some wagons and roughin' up the guys that bloodied my boys. Things have been pretty quiet since then."
"And you're sure that there was no trouble with the drivers or the guys that came with them?"
"Nah. Like I said. Our problem wasn't with them."
Jack raised his cup and nodded at Spot. "Here's to ya," he said throwing back the whiskey and fighting back a shudder.
"And to yourself," Spot replied swallowing the whiskey with one gulp and a grin.
"So, whadda you know about this new guy? The one that took over when they fired the distribution chief. I don't know the guys name but they tell me that he's young and good lookin'."
"You mean the swish?"
Jack's head snapped up at Spot's choice of word. His face reddened, but he didn't reply."
"His name is Conway. He ain't that young, and I don't make a habit of lookin' at sissy boys to see if they're pretty or not." Spot glared at Jack waiting for a response. Jack remained emotionless and returned Spot's glare. It was a though they were playing a high stakes game of poker, and neither wanted to show their hand.
"Conway took over about two weeks ago," Spot continued. "But it wasn't because the other guy got fired. Buckman was a fat old crow who died in his sleep. The poor bastard wasn't even cold when they put this new guy in his place."
"Well, do you know if he got a new assistant? A short guy about our age?"
"What's goin' on Jackey-boy? You didn't come all the way out here to ask if some pencil pushin' queer hired another pencil pusher to wipe his nose. What are you really lookin' for?"
"Well, one of the guys that was ridin' along with the drivers never came back. I heard that he was workin' for this Conway guy, and I wanted to check it out for myself."
"If this guy's gone missin' why ain't Pulitzer sent somebody to look for him? What's your stake in this?"
"This has nothing to do with the paper, Spot. This is strictly a personal matter. I guarantee you that this ain't gonna affect you or your boys in any way. I give you my word on it."
"Fair enough," Spot replied.
"I'm gonna ask you to keep this between you and me. Like I said, this is a personal matter, and I'd rather nobody find out about it."
"Ya got my word on it Jackey-boy. This is between you and me. Leader to leader." Spot poured them each another drink and leaned back in his chair. "Now about this kid you're lookin' for. All's I can tell you is that none of my guys had a beef with any of them guys. Nothin' happened to them while they was on this side of the bridge. As far as Conway goes, it don't seem likely that he would hire one of Pulitzer's goons to be his lackey. There are enough morons in that building that have paid their dues. More'n likely one of them woulda gotten the job. That is, unless this kid had something that the others didn't. Like maybe Conway thought that he could get somethin' outa him, if you know what I mean."
Jack's poker face disappeared, and anger took its place.
"You don't think that this Conway guy is doin' somethin' with this kid, do ya, Kelly? I mean, I'm all for live and let live until somebody crosses the line. If this guy is botherin' that kid, I'll take a few of my boys and we'll teach 'em a lesson he won't soon forget."
"I ain't lookin' to start any trouble, Spot. I don't even know if these two guys know each other. All I do know is that this kid ain't been seen around Manhattan since he left for Brooklyn on one of those wagons. I appreciate your offer, but for now, I wanna keep my cards close to my vest . . . . But there is another favor I'd like to ask you. Can you put me up for the night? I wanna be at the Brooklyn distribution center tomorrow morning when the workers arrive. I've gotta find this guy, and I wanna get a look at this Conway fella for myself."
"Sure thing, Cowboy. I'll have the boys bring a cot up here. You can stay with me, and then we can leave in the morning before the others get up."
"Whadda you mean we? This ain't your problem. All I'm askin' is a place to stay for the night."
"First of all, you don't know this town or that building like I do. You could be watchin' the wrong place and miss the both of them. Besides, this is my town, and nothin' goes on here without my say-so. And what I say is you ain't goin' without me."
As planned, Spot and Jack were perched on a roof diagonally across from the distribution center before the workers arrived. They had a clear view of two sides of the building.
"The delivery wagons and the distribution guys come in through the gate on this side," Spot pointed with his walking stick. "Most of the circulation guys and the office workers go in through the small gate over on that side. There is a chance that your guy could use another entrance, but it ain't likely. This is where Conway goes in, so if their workin' together chances are that they' be usin' the same gate."
Jack's eyes scanned the workers as they entered the building. He watched carefully as the wagons pulled through the gate. There was no way that any of the guys riding on the wagons was Oscar. They were all big and burly men. None of whom could be confused with a boy of seventeen. Jack's stomach tightened when he thought about the small boy being sent to do a man's job.
"That's Conway over there," Spot whispered. He's the guy in the striped suit and bowtie."
Jack examined the man as he walked toward the building. "He ain't so young," Jack huffed. "He's gotta be at least thirty."
"What'd you expect? Ya think that they're gonna give that job to somebody our age?"
"He ain't all that good-lookin' either," Jack grumbled. The remark earned a puzzled and uncomfortable look from the Brooklyn leader.
"Well, that should be all of 'im, Jackey-boy. Either this kid you're lookin' for went in through another gate, or he don't work for Conway. Like I said, there are enough morons that have paid their dues and would be in line for that job. Conway ain't gonna go givin' it to some kid without a good reason."
The next morning, Jack was dressed and out of the lodging house before Mr. Kloppman was out of bed. He situated himself in the alley across from the Delancey's apartment building and waited. Finally, Morris came out, sauntered up the block, and turned the corner. Jack wasn't worried about running into Mr. Delancey because his job at the stockyards started at four in the morning, and he would be long gone. Jack crossed the street and went up to the second floor apartment.
Jack knocked on the door, but nobody answered. He was about to go up to the roof and climb down the fire escape to get a look inside when the door to the kitchen opened.
"Whadda you want?" the unpleasant looking old woman asked.
"I'm lookin' for Oscar Delancey, ma'am. I'm a friend of his."
"You just missed him. He's gone to work already," she answered gruffly.
"No, ma'am. I'm lookin' for Oscar. That was his brother, Morris that just left for work."
"Oh you mean the little one? Well he ain't here either. He left for work too."
"But they work together, I mean they did work together - -."
"Look kid. I've got work of my own to do. I've gotta take care of the misses. What her boys do, and where they go ain't no business of mine."
"Well, can you tell me if Oscar's been stayin' here? Did he move someplace else maybe?"
"A'corse he's stayin' here. This is his home ain't it?"
"And he's been here all week?"
"Yeah, he's been here all week. Now, like I said I've got work to do, and I ain't got time to stand here and answer the questions of some kid." With that she slammed the door in Jack's face.
Jack was angrier than he could ever have imagined. Oscar wasn't sick, and he wasn't missing. He was working in Brooklyn, and he was living at home in Manhattan like always. That meant that he could have met Jack in the basement of the printing office like they'd planned. He could have talked to Jack face to face about the new job. Instead, he'd been sneaking off to Brooklyn and his job with Conway.
Jack went to the distribution office to buy his papers. "A hundred papes," he said, slamming his coin on the counter.
Jack seethed as he trudged through the streets selling his papers. He was lucky that the headline was good that day. If it wasn't, he certainly wouldn't have sold them all. There were no charming words and no winning smile that day. He actually scared one woman away by shouting; "Look lady! Do you wanna buy a paper or not!" as she searched through her purse for a penny.
There wasn't much rest for anyone at the lodging house that night. Jack mumbled, and cursed, and thrashed around in his squeaky bunk. Finally, Crutchy couldn't stand it anymore. He took his crutch and poked at Jack through the thin mattress. "Will you knock it off already? Some of us would like to get a little sleep!"
Jack cursed under his breath, and took his blanket and went out onto the fire escape. He stayed brooding out there until the sun came up.
Everyone kept their distance from Jack as they stood in line outside the gate. The long and sleepless night did nothing to ease his anger. Suddenly, Jack's head snapped around at the sound of a familiar chuckle.
The Delancey brothers were approaching the line, and Jack gaped at the sight. Oscar was standing in front of him and sporting a grin from ear-to-ear. Without warning, Jack's fist met with Oscar's smile.
The two boys rolled around on the ground landing punch after punch. There was nothing that the newsies liked better than watching a good fight, but it soon became evident that this was no ordinary brawl. They were trying to kill each other. It took Skittery, Dutchy, Snoddy, and Specs to pull them apart.
A thrill flashed through Jack's body as the smaller boy fell to one knee holding his ribs. For a moment nobody moved. Then Mush stepped forward and helped Oscar to his feet. Mush locked eyes with Jack daring him to say something, but Jack just snorted and walked away.
Nobody noticed that Morris had been watching the entire time with a satisfied smile on his face.
-o-o-o-o-
A loud sneeze from Oscar, snapped Jack back to the present. He was as angry as he'd been that morning at the gate. All of the disgust, and the hurt, and the hatred came surging back.
Jack stood and crossed the room. He glared at Oscar who was still sitting in the same place. The half empty bottle of whiskey was at his side, and the cigar box was open in his lap.
"I wanna know what's in that damn box, and I want to know now!" Jack shouted as he charged toward Oscar.
End Chapter 6
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