Chapter 7:

-

I stood there, in the middle of the road, watching Spot Conlon walk away. I was torn between two worlds: the one I had always known, and the one the boasted of freedom.

I envied Spot, for having that freedom, and knowing it would always be there to walk back to. He was a man who knew who he was. Where he wanted to go, he would go. It was as simple as that.

Anne called after me to come back with her to the teahouse. Back to that life. Back to Snyder, who was surely still waiting to claim me for the first time. It was such an unappetizing fate.

Anne kept calling, and soon Spot stopped off in the distance to see what was going on with me.

Why couldn't I go back? Why couldn't I follow Anne back to what had been my life for as long as I had known? Because, like a child, I was dreaming of greener pastures. I was left wondering if I had a choice. For the first time in my life, did I have control over my own fate?

I weighed my options. If I left with Conlon, I would lose my job, my home, and my whole current life. I would never be famous, I would never see the stage, and I would be a pauper on the streets like him for the rest of my days.

But I would be free. I might get to see my daughter one last time. I would no longer have to bed strangers. I would not be some toy. I would be an actual woman, who had her own say in what she did. It was a dream that was too hard to ignore.

So I took up my large Can-Can dress, and ran after Spot. Anne was greatly confused, calling after me desperately, but I would not have turned back for anything she said.

"What're you doin'?" Spot asked harshly when he saw me running up to him. I didn't answer, just stared at the long road before me and kept right on walking. I wasn't going to allow him to protest.

"I said, what're you doin'?"

"I am going to find my daughter," I replied very simply, keeping my eyes straight ahead like a military man.

"And you expect me to just take you in?"

"I do not see the problem."

"The problem, toots," Spot chuckled at my stupidity. "Is that I live with a buncha ruffian, ratatat, miscreant boys. You're going to get the hell raped out of you."

"I assure you, that is not something I am a stranger to. If that is the price I have to pay for staying there, so be it. But I am not going back."

I saw him gaze at me strangely out of the corner of my vision. He saw quickly I was very set on the matter, and didn't seem to find a point in arguing it.

"I have an idea of where your little goil might be," Spot said in an abrupt change of subject. "I'll take you there in the mornin'."

I was surprised at his sudden spark of kindness, but thought it best not to question it. I was even afraid to thank him, lest he realize he was being nice to me and change his mind.

So I followed him into the dark night, on the long walk to Brooklyn. I recognized a few landmarks, having walked this path once before. I suspected I might know the path well enough to walk it on my own.

Spot didn't speak for most of the journey, except for the occasional commands of "turn here" or "go this way". All to soon, we made it to the front door. It was a familiar brick building, the same lodging house I had been taken to before.

"You follow me," Spot commanded seriously. "And don't wander off."

He opened the door, and immediate hoops and hollers announced his arrival.

"Eh, put a lid on it!" Spot shouted back. 'Shut up, all a' youse!"

He waved their noise level down by motioning with both his hands.

"Alright," he called to them. "This here broad," he motioned to me, and I saw the men's eyebrows raise, and whispers followed. "She's going to be stayin' here for tonight. If I catch any a' youse givin' her a hard time, someone had better let me know…"

Spot looked at me and looked at me with mischievous eyes.

"Because I wouldn't want to miss it."

Laughs erupted, but I just frowned at Spot.

I was no fool. I knew what he was trying to do. He didn't want me here, and he was trying to scare me into leaving. I would give him no such luck.

"Where am I sleeping?" I demanded instead, folding my arms and sighing indignantly.

He spread his arms open to the space he walked upon, as if the entire floor was my bed.

"Pick someplace. Do I look like I care?"

With that he marched up the stairs, probably to crash in his own bedroom. I was left standing, alone, in a room full of men, staring at me like I was Santa Claus.

"Heya, babe," a redhead said flirtatiously. "You can stay in my bed if you want."

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow, Chip," another boy stepped forward. "Because tonight, she's sleeping with me."

"Heya, sweetface," another came at my right, sliding an arm around my shoulder. "Let's see what you're hiding under all that dress, huh?"

He made a grab at my sleeve, to which I quickly pulled away and slapped him hard on the jaw. He was stunned, but anger quickly replaced his shock, and he made to fight back.

"Goddamn whore!" he scowled, swinging a hand to slap me back, but I ducked under it just in time, and while I was under him, I kneed him in-between the legs. He groaned and doubled over. Once the others had seen what I had done to one of their own, they also came at me with violent intentions. I cowered back, unknowing what to do. One grabbed the back of my bustle, another pulled my hair. Just as I opened my mouth to let out a scream, I saw fists coming at them, driving them all back.

"HEY!" Spot shouted at all of them like they had deliberately disobeyed him. "I thought I was bunkin' with grown men, not a bunch of stupid droolin' babies! Go to bed, you're keepin' me up!"

Then Spot turned to me, a threatening look in his eyes.

"And if I ever see youse touch one a' my boys again, I'll kill ya myself."

I got his point quickly. His temper still hot, he dragged me up the stairs and threw me into a storage closet, and slammed the door after me, leaving me in pitch black. Not knowing what else to do, I curled my dress above me into a pillow, and closed my eyes to sleep. Unexpected tears began to flow of what I had gotten myself into. I had to come to terms with the fact that my life would never be the same.

-

"You there," said a voice above me. I felt a nudge from a boot in my back. I stirred in my sleep, and forced my eyes to focus on the man above me.

"You think this is some hotel?" the gentle voice continued, trying hard to sound mean. "Time to check out."

I was expecting to see Spot. Instead, I saw some old man, with glasses and a white hair. He was hunched over in his old age, a mole sticking out of his cheek. He had an abnormally large chin and nose as well.

I scrambled up quickly. The man seemed impressed by the fact that I was a woman, which was probably something he wasn't used to seeing.

"You belong to Spot, my dear?"

I hated the term 'belong'. So I denied it.

"No."

The man seemed pleased with that answer.

"In that case…" he said, stepping fully inside the closet and turning to close the door behind himself. My heart jumped to my throat as the room slowly became darker from the only light source being closed up.

Suddenly, a steel-toed boot stepped between the door and the doorway, stopping it from fully closing. A firm hand followed, forcing the door back open.

"Ease up, ya horny ol' coot," Spot commanded in a lighthearted voice, patting the old man on the shoulder. Spot turned to me. "This is Gerry, the head of the lodge house. He's lonely."

I gulped, still trying to get over that sudden wave of panic that had come over me.

"Been a while since I had me a woman," Gerry admitted sadly through his weak, elderly voice. "I'm still as wild as a stallion, though."

The crooked old man winked at me.

"Yeah, thanks, Gerry," Spot said, herding the old man out. Spot turned back to me and said:

"So, ya ready?"

He acted like nothing was out of the ordinary, and that whole matter was business as usual. I frowned. I tried to play along.

"Ready for what?"

"We're goin' to find your goil, a' course," Spot spat back. "Did ya forget so soon?"

-

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Signed,
--RedRogue