Chapter 14

I Like Your Company, You Know

Medda's was the place to be, especially on Halloween. Despite her best efforts to stay to herself tonight, Jack had dragged her out of her dark hole and forced her to accompany him and Sarah to the big Halloween bash that Medda had put on. As much as she hated to admit it, she was having a fairly decent time. Not that she'd ever tell him that. That was until she saw Spot saunter in with that cheap, two-bit lady of the night. Besty, she thought wryly. That absolute dollymop.

Maybe that was a little unfair of her. In retrospect, Betsy never did anything to scorn Flash. She had no reason, necessarily, to hate her the way she did. But she had Spot's attention and in Flash's eyes, that was enough. Her stupid laugh, her stupid voice. Every fiber of her being. Flash hated it all. She went straight to the bar and ordered herself a double rum, neat. No sense in watering it down.

Flash had every intention of nursing her drink, but she could hear Betsy's cacophonous shrieks of laughter over the music being played by the band and it pushed her to down her rum all together. She grimaced and ordered another, spotting Racetrack approaching.

Racetrack took the seat beside her and ordered a brandy. He gave Flash a quick once over as the bar maid was filling his glass. "You look a sight for sore eyes. What's got you in such a tizzy?"

Flash shot her eyes in the direction of Spot and Betsy and then returned them to her now full glass. She chugged down about half of it before the burning sensation in her throat caused her to cough and sputter.

Racetrack grinned back at her as she wiped stray droplets from her chin with her sleeve. "Better out than in, I suppose." Flash shot him a warning look, still not speaking and Racetrack chuckled. "I see Old Bessie has gotten you in quite a mood."

"I was doing just fine until she opened her big mouth and talked. "Oh Spot, you're a real hoot. My chuckaboo," she mocked in a high voice. "I can't take their damn mafficking anymore. I had to get away."

Racetrack let out a roar of laughter that made Flash crack a smile and start giggling too. She glanced over at the table and she could see that Spot was discreetly peering around Betsy, looking directly at her. She felt her stomach lurch so she drank the rest of her drink and ordered yet another. "Gimmie another gatter, please. Make it a double bourbon this time? Up."

"You got it, doll," said the bar maid winking at her.

"She's a blessing, that one," Flash told him, gesturing toward her as she set off to pour the bourbon.

Racetrack couldn't help but smile. He had never seen her like this. It amused him greatly. "I know Medda offered us drinks on the house and all, but you might want to slow down. You can't be getting too befuddled because I sure as hell can't carry you out of here. And by the looks of it, no one else is in the right state of mind to do it either." He glanced around the room, surveying all the people in the theatre. He could hear most of his friends over all the voices, singing loudly and vastly out of tune, their words jumbling to form one big incohesive mound of noise.

"Mind your own business, Pony Boy. You're just here to keep me company, not keep tally of how many glasses I drink." She sighed but took a small sip, taking what Race had said into consideration. He was right, of course. It wouldn't do good to pass out.

"Oh, is that why I'm here? To keep you company?"

"Of course. I like your company, you know," she said unconsciously. She felt warmth flood her face and ears when she realized she spoke that last bit aloud. She picked up her glass and drank to hide her embarrassment. Way to go, Flash. You and your idiotic tendencies.

Racetrack's ears perked up at the comment and he grinned. Alcohol was like truth serum. Maybe tonight he'd finally get some answers. "You like my company?"

"Yeah, you're not that bad. When you aren't being a hostile, annoying little git, that is." Flash gave him the first genuine smile he'd ever seen from her.

Racetrack offered her a toke of his cigar and she obliged. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," he snickered. "You sure you don't need to slow down on those drinks?" he asked gesturing toward her now empty cup that the bar maid, Tilly, was replenishing.

Flash held a finger to her lips and shushed him. "Shhhh. Company not advice, remember? 'Sides," she hiccupped, "I'm feeling rather good."

They heard a loud clamor coming from their right and they both looked up to see that Betsy had gotten up on the table and was trying her best to do some type of seductive dance for Spot, who was leaned back in his chair, grinning ear to ear. The guys around the table were whooping and cheering her on as she bent down and caressed Spot's chin, winking at him and saying something unintelligible. The table roared with laughter and Flash let out a groan.

"Well, I was feeling rather good. Not so much now. It was fun while it lasted," she slurred and picked up her handkerchief, absentmindedly folding and unfolding it.

Race pushed his drink towards her and she took it, finishing it faster than he could blink. If he was going to ask anything, now would be the time. "Look, I can tell this whole thing is really bothersome to you. What happened between you two? I know you knew him before we took you to Brooklyn. You called him Sean."

Flash sat there staring down into her napkin like it had just said something offensive. She dragged a fingernail along the scratches in the countertop and when she looked back up at Race, he could see her anger and contempt for the topic.

"There are two sides to Spot. One that's arrogant, unforgiving, rude, and powerful. That's the one you guys see. The other is..." she paused and tried to come up with the right words to use, but her brain was getting foggy from all the alcohol. "Vulnerable. Nice, even? Funny. A real human being. That's the one I met. So, you can imagine my surprise when that's not the version of Spot I saw on the docks that day."

Racetrack contemplated what she said before speaking. "So, that's why you're so angry? Because he wasn't nice to you? Come on, Flash. I know you well enough to see that you don't care about whether someone is nice or not. Don't forget, I'm usually an asshole and you tolerate me just fine." He leaned back against his chair and let his head cock to the side.

Flash snorted and slapped her hand down on the counter almost spilling the contents of her glass on herself. "Barely. You are kind of an asshole, aren't you?"

Race grinned and shrugged his shoulders dismissively. "Yeah, but that's just who I am."

It took Flash a minute for her giggles to subside. When they finally stopped, she cleared her throat. "I told him things. Things about my family. About my home, my life. My father. And I wish I could take it all back because I feel like he doesn't deserve to know any of it. The person I told those things to never seemed to really exist. And I know it seems stupid to care about that, but I do," she finished.

Race let his mind go back to his and Spot's friendship. They had their fair share of ups and downs, now being one of the lower parts. But he definitely knew him better than half the guys that were around him every day. "Let me tell you some things I know about Spot. He can be downright cruel. He can be a bastard, hellbent on making things difficult for other people. But he's also one of the most loyal people I know. He just gets so wrapped up in everything that comes with the territory of leading a massive group of people, his manners and basic grasp of normal human interaction kind of falls to the wayside. You can't take it too personally," Racetrack reassured her.

"I can't help but to take it personally. Especially since I've shared some truly dark shit with him," Flash mumbled into her drink. The smell of the alcohol was turning her stomach and she already sensed that she'd be paying for this night for a few days

"You think I haven't? We're on the outs right now, but tell me this: has he ever brought anything up about me? Ever let slip anything that could be considered personal?"

Flash sat in silence, trying to remember all her past conversations with Spot. They never really brought up any of the guys much at all. Most of their conversations consisted of themselves, as self-absorbed as that sounded. "No," she told him finally.

"See? Loyal. Loyal to those he once considered a friend. Cut him a little slack, Flash. He deals with more than you think. You haven't been around to see why he has to act the way he does," he pointed out.

Flash brought her thumb to her mouth and bit down as she thought. "I guess you're right," she said finally. "I don't really have a firm grasp about what goes on around here. All the hoops that guys like Spot and Jack have to go through in order to maintain their positions as leaders." She groaned. "Now I feel like I need to apologize for how I acted the other night. I was really hateful to him. My mother would be ashamed."

She quickly stopped talking when she heard a familiar voice. Spot was walking up to the bar, staring dead at her, his expression unreadable.

Racetrack seemed to have noticed too because he fixed a strained smile on his face before addressing him. "Heya, Spot, how's it rolling?"

"I'm doing just peachy, Race, how about you? You guys look rather... chummy," he clipped, glancing quickly between the two of them.

"We were just having a little chit chat. You and Betsy look like you're having a lovely time," Racetrack said carefully, not sure if he should bring attention to it for Flash's sake.

Flash cleared her throat and slammed back the rest of her drink.

"She's a fun one," Spot said smirking, stealing another look at Flash. He could tell she was ready to burst at the seams, holding back whatever hateful comment she had playing behind her lips. "I came to order us some more gatters. Why don't you both come join all of us back at the table? No sense in you two sitting over here alone." His voice was calm but Flash could hear the utter disdain lurking behind his words.

"I'm good here," Flash said definitively, not bothering to hide her obvious annoyance at his suggestion. "I've got Tilly here to keep me company, don't I, Tilly?"

Tilly gave her a smile and refilled her cup. "'Course darlin', I'll talk to you as much as I can. But you and your guys are giving me a run for my money in here. You might ought to find someone to occupy you while I'm running back and forth."

"It's settled then. I'll see you two in a bit. Don't leave us waiting too long now, yeah?" Spot's voice sounded almost threatening as he backed up, waving one finger at them. He locked eyes with Flash and she could see a tinge of darkness in them that she hadn't seen before as he slowly turned around and made his way back to the table.

Racetrack let out a breath and acted like he was wiping sweat off his forehead. "Was it just me or did he sound kind of vaguely aggressive with his wording?"

"It's not just you. I heard it too, clear as crystal. Goddamn it, why does he act this way?" she huffed and slammed her hand on the counter. Her palm started to sting with the force of the impact and she shook her hand out of frustration, tapping it against her leg.

"I dunno. Kinda seems like he's jealous."

"What do you mean, jealous? Jealous of what?"

"Not sure," he shrugged. "All I know is that he hasn't taken his eyes off of you," Racetrack whispered so as to not be overheard.

They both turned slowly in their seats to look at him. Betsy was sitting in his lap, going off on a tangent, but he wasn't paying much attention to her. He just sat there, staring a hole through them with a smug, albeit unconvincing, smile on his face.

"He looks right pissed, honestly. We should probably head over there before he decides to come over again. I don't think we'd like what he'd have to say." Racetrack warned her before standing up and grabbing both of their cups, beckoning toward their friends.

Flash reluctantly stood up and they carefully made their way back to the table, weaving their way through the ever-growing crowd of newsies that were in their path. They reached the table to find that the only two seats open were directly beside Spot and Betsy. Flash could taste bitter bile in the back of her throat and she had no choice but to sit down beside them. Spot looked rather pleased at the sight of her blatant discomfort.

"Oi, Flash! Race! Where've Youse two been?" ask Jack, slurring his words together. "We thought you might've left." He wrapped his arm around Sarah, who seemed to be the only sober one of the bunch.

"Jack, they've been over by the bar talking this whole time. Has the alcohol affected your eyesight?" Sarah teased.

Racetrack laughed and leaned up to give Jack a good-natured pat on the back. "You're two sheets to the wind, my pal. Completely soused. Sarah, it looks like you're gonna have to carry him out of here." He winked at her and relit his cigar.

"Ain't nobody carryin' me nowhere. I'm havin' the time of my life right where I'm at," he hiccupped. "You guys was talkin' though? And no blows came about? Well color me shocked."

Spot ran his fingers along Betsy's thigh and she let out a girlish giggle, but his eyes were focused on Flash. "Yeah, they seemed to be having a very nice conversation over there. A very cozy conversation indeed. So nice, in fact, that they almost didn't see me come up."

Jack gave the two of them a sloppy smile. "Well, that's great you guys. It really is," he said cheerfully, not noting the sarcasm oozing out of Spot's every syllable. "Now I don't have to worry about you guys killing each other every time you're in a room together. Baby steps. Here's to new friendships." He lifted his cup up to cheers them and spilled it all down his shirt. Everyone burst into a fit of laughs as he cursed himself and grabbed a hanky to dab at the mess.

Flash and Race shared a humorous glance with each other, dissolving into a fit of snickers, using their sleeves to cover their mouths. Leave it to Jack to make a complete fool of himself. How he became the leader of anyone, Flash couldn't understand.

This shared moment between them didn't go unnoticed by Spot, who made it a point to bury his face in Betsy's neck, trailing his tongue up the side, hoping that Flash would stop looking at Racetrack long enough to see. When he pulled away, he could tell that she had because her complexion turned maroon and she grabbed at her glass in front of her, taking a hearty gulp. She glowered at him and he grinned back in satisfaction. So, she wanted to buddy up with Race right in front of him? And all he got from her was looks of disgust? Well, two could play this little game she had contrived.

Spot leaned into Betsy's ear and whispered something Flash couldn't hear. Whatever he said must have been something crude because Betsy started to blush and smacked his arm. "Spot, stop it!" she cackled. "Don't say that here in front of your friends!"

Flash rolled her eyes and turned to Racetrack, mumbling under her breath. "Is he like this with every broad he takes to bed? I feel like my drinks are going to come back up. It's nauseating."

Racetrack rubbed a finger across his lips and cupped he hand around the side of his face so only Flash could hear him. "Yes and no. He's not afraid to put on a show with his girl of the week. But he's laying it on a bit thick tonight. Maybe it's the whiskey making all the decisions in his head."

"That's the understatement of the centry," she groaned. "He normally drinks like a fish but he's only had two since he's been here. It would take more than that to lower his inhibitions."

Race chuckled and leaned in again. "Now who is policing the amount of alcohol someone is consuming? How very hypocritical of you, Flash."

She grinned and shoved him to the side a little. "Shut your trap, Pony Boy."

He shoved her back playfully and she almost tipped over out of her chair, swaying back and forth before grabbing onto his sleeve to steady herself.

Jack and the gang howled in amusement as Racetrack held onto her arm to make sure she didn't topple over into Betsy's lap.

"You're on me about being soused but Flash can barely even sit up straight!" Jack guffawed. "I think it's time for you to go home," he said more seriously, taking on the tone of an older brother.

Flash was about to object but she noticed the room spinning and knew that Jack was right. She was done for the night.

"Alright, fellas. It's been fun," she slurred sloppily. "But Jack's right. It's time for me to go. I need sleep." She stood up unsteadily and gripped the back of her chair for balance. "It's a long walk to Brooklyn."

"Nonsense! You're staying in Manhattan tonight. You can have my bunk at the lodging house. I'm staying with Sarah. I'm sure Kloppman wouldn't want you tripping your way back to Brooklyn." Jack held his hands up in finality and Flash knew better than to argue with him.

"Um... alright. Thanks, Jack," she said appreciatively, giving a him a little nod and thumbing her nose. "See you guys tomorrow."

"Wait a minute. You can't walk by yourself. You'd pass out before you made it there," he said stopping her. "Who here is okay enough to make sure my buddy gets home safely?" He scanned the group, trying to decide who would be the one unlucky enough to have to leave early.

Race stood and gathered his things. "Don't worry about it, Jack. I'll walk her. I'm feeling right tired myself. I was just about to head out anyways."

Spot sat up quickly but Jack cut him off before he could protest.

"Thatta boy, Race. I can always count on you." He gave a toothy grin and stuck up his thumb in approval. "Get her there in one piece, alright? Youse guys be careful, ya hear?"

"Race is more than capable of walking someone home, Jack. You don't have to worry about him." Sarah chuckled and Jack leaned in to kiss her.

Racetrack offered Flash his hand and led her through the crowd of people so she didn't get trampled in her drunkenness. Flash turned her head back just in time to catch one last glimpse of Spot sitting ridged in his chair before disappearing into a sea of people.

The autumn breeze felt cool on her skin as they made it outside. Racetrack let go of her hand and she took in a gulp of air to steady her stomach. It was doing cartwheels and she was afraid if she moved too fast, she might hurl. She really shouldn't have drunk so much. It was coming back to bite her in the ass.

"You alright over there?" Racetrack closed the distance between them and took hold of her arm, making sure that she wasn't going to trip over her own feet. She grabbed his shoulder for balance and looked at him through half closed eyes. They looked glassy and far off, like her mind had been in a whole other atmosphere and he had caused it to crash back to Earth.

"I'm rainbows and sunshine like always. My stomach though... it ain't feeling so hot." She held a closed fist over her mouth and shut her eyes, swallowing hard. "There we go. That's better."

Racetrack tittered and guided her down the way to the lodging house. It was much quieter and more deserted than it usually was. But it was Halloween after all. People were either too superstitious to leave their homes or out at the many Halloween parties that were always held around the city. You either loved Halloween or you hated it. Most people used it as an excuse to get absolutely lushed. Their footsteps clacking against the cobblestone and the far-off cries of people enjoying the festivities were the only sounds they heard until Flash spoke.

"This may be the alcohol talking, but I think it's time I tell you about my father."

Race raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't expected this to come about unprompted. He was under the impression that this would take weeks, maybe even months of prodding and coaxing to get her to spill such intimate things. Maybe she was right; this had to be the alcohol calling the shots.

"So, you know how my last name is Becker?"

"Yeah, I know of it."

"And you know it's German."

"That I do."

She bit her lip in hesitation before continuing. "My Pa's name was Otto... Otto Becker. My Ma was Máire. Máire Walsh and then Máire Becker once they were married."

Race stopped dead in his tracks. Of course! Why hadn't he put the details together? It was starting to make more sense. Why she was the way she was. "THE Otto Becker? The one who killed all those people?" he asked incredulously.

"The very same," she said quietly. She bit down on her thumb, happily using the physical pain to distract her from the pain of the emotional wounds she was about to open up. "He came home drunk that day after tending the crops. That man couldn't grow weeds if he tried. We were dirt poor. The only money we had coming in was what little money my mother made teaching at the primary school."

Racetrack remained quiet, silently urging her to go on.

"Father didn't like that very much. He was convinced she was running around on him. She had many lovers in his mind, and he was always accusing her, so she stayed gone most of the time. Partly because we needed the money, partly because he would beat her if she was there. But because she was never there... guess who sustained the brunt of his anger?"

Racetrack swallowed and answered her. "You."

Flash nodded her head. "Any my brother. It wasn't so bad at first. Started with him just throwing things in our direction when he was pissed off. But it progressed into much more sinister acts of violence. I know you saw those marks on me the other week. You can thank him for that."

"So, what happened that day? Why did he snap like that?"

"Exactly what was said in the papers. Except they left out the part where Trooper and I were left on the brink of death before he set out to do what he had planned. He took his hunting rifle he kept locked in his closet with him. Went to the school and shot my mother in the head. In front of a bunch of five and six-year-olds. Then he made his way to every man he thought was involved with my mother until they were dead or dying."

Racetrack wasn't sure what to say. He was lost for words. He remembered that story. It was in all the papers. The crime, the trial. It was in the headlines for months. His Pa had kept close tabs on it. He had been baffled that anyone could do the things that Otto Becker did. He practically jumped with joy when he was found guilty and sentenced for his wrong-doings.

"The papers. They said he had two kids. But they never wrote their names. All it said was that the fate of you two was in the hands of the state."

"The State chucked us in an orphanage as soon as we were recovered enough to walk and use the bathroom on our own. I was scared. I was too scared to be around people I didn't know. Especially after what had happened. That's why I ran. I wish I had made Trooper go with me."

He could see tears forming in her eyes so he looked straight ahead to give her time to pull herself back together. A couple minutes went by and he thought it'd probably be safe to peek at her again. Her expression was blank and she had that far-away look in her eyes again. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a squeeze. She blinked, puzzled at the sudden gesture.

"You remind me of my Pa, you know. Strong. Determined. Witty. You take no shit. You're brash and loud and boisterous, but you mean well. Just like him. He was my best friend."

Flash gave him a watery smile and chuckled, happy to change topics. "Does this mean I'm your best friend now."

Racetrack grinned. "Now don't get ahead of yourself. I wouldn't say best friend. But you're making your way up the ranks."

"I knew I'd win you over someday, Racetrack." She laughed and flung her arm around his back.

"Flash?"

"Yeah?"

"You can call me Race now."