You Can't Read My Eyes As Well As You Thought
December 1900
She was running. Full sprint, almost faster than what her legs were capable of, stumbling every third step. Her chest was burning with every gulp of cold air that entered her protesting lungs. The coldness caused them to scream. Or was that just her? She didn't know. She didn't know if she could even make a sound, she couldn't hear anything. Just her heartbeat in her ears and the thudding of her feet on the cobblestone.
Snipeshooter didn't say how bad it was. He just told her where to go. So, Flash went with no questions asked. But damn, why did she have to be in Brooklyn when it happened?
She felt a pang in her side, but she kept pushing, letting out a breath every time her left foot made contact with the ground. That's something her father had taught her. If you regulate your breathing while running, you won't get the pain.
She rounded a corner and saw a group of the newsies in the distance. They were crowded around a figure sprawled out beside a building, like a pack of flies on fresh meat. Their voices collided together, making a buzzing noise and Flash couldn't understand what everyone was saying. Until she heard the unmistakable yell of one person in particular.
"Everybody move! The young ones need to get lost. Go back to the lodging house, now!" She heard Racetrack's voice shout over the murmur of the crowd. She couldn't see him, but he sounded panicked, and Flash did not take that as a good sign.
She charged through the wall of people like a battering ram, taking a few of them off their feet and sending them toppling to the dirt. A couple of them shot her dirty looks and Flash met them with a cold hard look of her own.
"You heard Race. What are you waiting for? Get the hell out of here! The only ones that should be here are you three," she barked, gesturing towards Mush, Kid Blink, and Skittery. Some of them still weren't moving and Flash stomped towards them with her fist raised. "If you don't get to moving, I swear to god." She didn't finish her threat. It seemed to be enough to make them leave because they turned tail and started walking back in the direction of the house. She turned her attention back to person laying on the ground.
"Nobody touches him! Not yet." She knelt and put her hand on his chest, and felt it rise and fall. He was breathing.
"Is he gonna be alright?" Mush asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He was clenching and unclenching his hat in his hands with a look of pure terror and confusion
Flash glared up at him and then back down. "I don't know, Mush." She snapped. "You saw I just got here. I don't know how bad it is." She ran her fingers through his hair. When she pulled them away, she saw the unmistakable red tinge and the sour metallic smell of copper filled her nostrils. Blood.
Racetrack was pacing back and forth, bouncing on his heels and leaving walking lines in the dirt. Something she noticed he did when he got nervous. He was wringing his hands together and muttering curses under his breath. "How the hell did this happen?" He asked, finally coming to a halt beside the four of them.
Kid Blink was the one to speak. "I don't know. He said he was going to go to Sarah's around 6 or so. We were all coming in from selling and decided to play a few rounds of Gin Rummy. After about an hour, Itey went to Roger's shop to grab some smokes and saw him lying here beside the building."
"He was out here for an hour before someone found him?" Racetrack bellowed and slammed his hat down on the ground. He threw his hands up in frustration and started laying into them.
The three of them began arguing back but Flash wasn't paying attention to what they were saying. She was too busy assessing the damage, but it was hard to see in the dark. "Jack. Jack, can you hear me?" She whispered. No response. She lightly tapped his face with the pad of her middle finger. "Jack, if you can't talk, that's okay. But I need you to make some sort of noise. Let me know you can hear me."
She saw the faintest movement of his lips and heard an audible groan. He moved his fingers to touch the palm of her hand. "Sarah..." he managed to croak out.
Flash let out a small sigh of relief and grabbed his hand. "I promise, we are going to get her. But I need you to tell me if you think we can move you. We have to clean you up first, I'm not letting her see you this way."
Jack went to nod his head, but the motion caused him to let out a whimper instead. "My... head... fucking hurts..." he groaned.
Flash grabbed his bandana off the ground and tied it around his head to slow down some of the bleeding. "We'll be gentle. I promise. I'll hold your head. You probably have a concussion. Lucky for you, I've had plenty of those. I know what to do."
She stood and turned around to face the boys, none of them noticing that Jack was awake. They were still too busy yelling at each other. "Get a fucking grip, guys! No one should be arguing right now. Racetrack, I know you're upset, but it isn't their fault. They didn't know this was going to happen. Just like you and I didn't."
The four of them went silent, shooting glances at each other. Racetrack was glaring at everyone, Flash included. It made her angry, but she couldn't let that get to her right now. She had bigger things to worry about.
"Race, if you are just going to be angry, you can go. We don't need that. If you're going to help, I suggest you fix your face. Otherwise, get out of here." When he made no moves to go, she continued. "Good. Because I really do need your help. I need ya'll to help me carry him. Skittery, you're bigger than us. You'll have to do most of the lifting. It's going to be a lot of dead weight."
They all came to stand around Jack, trying to figure out the best way to pick him up. Flash ran through the different injuries he could have in her head and tried to think of the safest way to do this.
"He could have a back injury. And his head is definitely hurt which means there is a strong possibility for a neck injury too. We have to be so careful. Skittery, you're going to pick him up near his waist. Cradle his legs in one arm like you'd cradle a baby. Use your other arm to support his lower back."
"I've never held a baby," Skittery stammered.
Flash let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed Racetrack's arm to demonstrate. She tucked his arm in the crook of her own. "Like this, stupid. What, you've never seen someone hold a baby before?" She closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry, that was mean. Just hold his legs the way I showed you. Blink and Mush, I need you to hold each other's arms and use them like a brace underneath his back. Keep him as straight as possible. Normally we would move him on a gurney but... well... that's not an option. Race, you're going to take one arm, and I'll take the other. We need to link our arms under his shoulders. But also support his head so it isn't flopping around, got it?"
Everyone nodded and took their positions. Skittery lifted Jack's legs and everyone else followed suit. Jack let out another groan of pain and it made Flash's stomach flop. "I know, I know," she whispered. "I know it hurts. But we aren't far from the lodging house. We got you."
Racetrack shot her a furtive glance. Something about how she was so calm was admirable. He felt guilty for getting so angry and letting it get the best of him. But she was methodical. Almost like a machine. She was able to put her emotions aside. And Race wished he could do that sometimes. He always let his emotions run him.
They walked for what seemed like an eternity, and Racetrack could hear Flash faintly whisper words of comfort to Jack throughout. It reminded him of his mother and what she would do when he was sick. It brought a strange sense of peace to him, listening to her try to ease Jack's mind. Oddly soothing in a situation that was anything but.
Flash was going through a rolodex of memories in her brain. All the injuries she had seen. Her brother, her mother. Her. She had experience with quite a few. She just needed to see the full extent of what she was dealing with. She tried to flash back to all the tidbits of information that Doctor Stoddard had told them for each injury they had endured, and she just hoped that she wouldn't encounter something she was unfamiliar with.
The lodging house loomed in the horizon, and everyone let out their own sighs of relief. Jack was heavy. Everyone was worried. And the sooner they could get him in there, the sooner they could start piecing him back together. Kloppman's figure could be seen standing on the front porch with a few of the other newsies and Flash could tell that everyone was wanting to lay their eyes on Jack.
"Kloppman, I think it's bad." Race called out to him as they got closer to the house. "We need towels. We need warm water. Hell, we need everything you got."
Kloppman glanced down at Jack, a look of shock plastered on his face. "Quick, get him inside. Take him to the infirmary. I've told all of them to stay away, we don't want them bothering him. Get him laid down. I'll grab my bag and all the other stuff."
They got Jack settled in a bed and Flash grabbed a pair of scissors, opening and closing them to see how sharp they were.
Racetrack gave her a bewildered look. "What the hell are those for? You're not cutting into him, are you?"
Flash didn't look at him, making her way to stand beside Jack. "His clothes. We need to cut off his clothes. I don't want to keep moving him around more than necessary." She got to work cutting down the middle of his shirt, exposing his torso. She let out an audible gasp, seeing the deep purple marks blossoming on his sides. "They kicked the shit out of him. Do you see that boot print?"
Racetrack walked over to stand next to her, peering down at Jack's body. "Yeah, I do see that. Porca puttana." He gingerly removed the shirt as best as he could, but he couldn't get the sleeves off. He motioned to Flash for the scissors, and she handed them over to him. He sliced the sleeves and slid the rest of Jack's shirt off, tossing it to the side. It was of no use now. "He definitely has some broken ribs. There is no doubt about that."
Kloppman came barreling into the doorway, a bucket of warm water in one hand, his medical bag in the other. There was a stack of towels shoved under his arm. "This'll do, I presume? He gonna be alright?"
Flash bit her lip, looking down at Jack's badly beaten body. "I dunno, Kloppman. He's banged up bad from what I can tell. Can you hand me a few towels? And the water. We need to clean up all this blood. It's all over him."
Racetrack grabbed the towels from him, wetting a few and handing them to Flash. She set to work cleaning up Jack's face while Racetrack used a towel to start cleaning the wound on his head. There was a laceration to his scalp, and it was swollen. It looked like he had a golf ball under his skin. The blood had stopped though, which was a good sign. It was dried and caked into his hair. "He's gonna need an actual bath at some point. This isn't going to come off."
Flash stopped cleaning his face and gazed at the wound. She squinted her eyes and leaned in, trying to get a closer look. She cursed when she realized what had been used. "I've seen that type of wound before. Those bastards used brass knuckles on him." She looked at the bruises on his sides again. Amongst the boot print, there were four clear divots in his skin. Several lines of them. "You were right to assume broken ribs, Race. Look at the swelling. Look at the marks."
Racetrack watched her rummage through the medical bag and pull out an amber bottle of liquid. She pulled the stopper out and began emptying it on Jack's head, and the unmistakable violet color indicated to Race that it was iodine. He lifted Jack's chin to angle his head for her get better access and stopped in his tracks. Jack's neck was purple. "Flash. Flash, look at this."
She glanced down and then did a double take. "Whoa, what the hell? Jack, open your eyes. Open your eyes, now." He didn't move and she stuck her finger under his nose. "Still breathing, just passed out." She used her finger to open his eyelid and saw the red pinpoint marks on the whites of his eyes. Doctor Stoddard's voice echoed in her head, and she knew what this was. "Petechial hemorrhaging."
Racetrack lit a cigarette and puffed on it, looking confused. He took a few drags before holding it out to her, and she grabbed it in between her teeth, going back to cleaning his head wound. "Peta what?"
"Petechial hemorrhaging. I learned that from a doctor once," she spoke around the cigarette. "It means they tried to choke him. Did a scary good job of it too, by the looks of his neck." She pulled hard on the cigarette and let out a breath, the smoke billowing from the sides of her mouth. She dabbed at the wound, making sure it was fully saturated with the iodine to prevent an infection.
Racetrack was appalled. They got Jack. They could have killed him. Whether they succeeded or not remained to be seen. Flash's warning echoed in his head. This isn't just a scrap, Race. This is so much bigger than that. There's always room for surprises. She had been right. Of course she had been right. But none of them thought that this "mutiny" was that serious. Not to this degree. Racetrack was silently kicking himself for not taking what she said to heart. He wouldn't make that mistake again.
He backed up until his legs touched the chair behind him, forcing him to sit down. His legs felt like jelly and his heart was beating away in his stomach. He gripped the arms of the chair tightly, his knuckles turning white. This was becoming too real too quickly. Or maybe it was always this real and he just didn't notice.
Once Jack's head was tended to, Flash moved to other parts of his body, assessing his injuries while Racetrack watched in silence. The others had left, not wanting to get in the way and not knowing what to do to help. But Race wasn't leaving. Even if he didn't know what he was doing. He had been taking orders from Flash, who moved with ease and seemed to know exactly what had to be done. This was another piece to the puzzle that was Flash. Just when he thought he had them all, there was more stuck in the bag.
Flash tied the last of the bandages to Jack and grabbed a bag of ice that Kloppman had brought in a bit earlier upon her request. She wrapped it in the last clean towel and sat it gently on the top of Jack's head. "That should do it. For now, at least. The cut on top is superficial at most. It's the swelling I'm worried about. Gotta leave this ice on there for no longer than 15 minutes at a time. But it should help the swelling go down over the next few hours."
Racetrack had been sitting in the chair next to the bed for the last 30 minutes, just watching her work. He felt helpless, not knowing why all his knowledge for this stuff flew out the window. "How'd you learn to do this?"
Flash didn't look at him. "Do what?"
"The nursing. The fixing. Whatever you wanna call it."
"I told you. I knew a doctor. Saw him all the time. He was a friend of my Ma's."
That was enough of an explanation. Race could use his context clues, knowing everything he did about her past. He was sure that she truly did know. From experience. And that made his stomach twist and hurt for her.
"Look, I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
Flash raised an eyebrow and puffed on her cigarette, getting to work putting everything back into Kloppman's medical bag. "For?"
Racetrack cleared his throat and looked everywhere in the room but her, avoiding her scrutinizing stare. He trained his eyes on a fray in the blanket at the end of Jack's bed. "Two things. One, for getting snappy earlier outside. And glaring at you the way I did. I was just scared, okay? It's been a long time since something this extreme has happened around here. And never to someone I'm close to. Not like I am with Jack."
Flash blew the smoke out through her nose and put out her cigarette. "And the second thing?" She crossed her arms and continued to stare at him, willing him to look at her. She begged him to turn his head because she wanted to read his eyes. He must have felt it because he turned his eyes to meet hers.
"I'm sorry for not taking what you said seriously. I don't think any of us did. We were just trying to appease you. To get you to fight with us. But you were right. People can always surprise you. And we need to always have our guard up."
They were both silent for a while and Flash made her way to sit in the other chair beside Racetrack. She hesitated before grabbing his hand and holding it. She stared into his eyes as they widened. "Thanks. I'm hoping this opened your eyes to what we are dealing with. I was scared too, Race. Jack is like my big brother. And I can't lose him. He's the only brother I got right now. It kills me inside that this happened. But I think he's going to be okay."
She ran her thumb across his knuckle as she spoke, and Racetrack felt a jolt in his stomach. His mouth went dry, and he just sat there, letting her hold his hand. He could see faint tears pooling behind her eyes and he looked away. He knew she didn't want him to watch her cry.
After enough time had passed, he spoke. "I think he's going to be just fine now. Thanks to all the work you did to clean him up." Racetrack glanced back at her and gave her a small smile.
She returned his smile and leaned a bit closer, not breaking her eyes away from his. She was trying to read him again, something that she was starting to get good at. "It was nothing really. Just basic..." she trailed off as he began to lean in too.
The door swung open and the two leapt back in their chairs at the sudden sound. But Racetrack could tell by the look in his eyes that he had seen.
Spot stormed his way into the room, his cane dragging on the ground behind him. "What the hell happened? How did we let something like this happen? I need answers. Now."
Flash jumped to her feet and crossed her arms defensively. "We don't know what happened. Not definitively. But I'm putting all my money on Phillips. He must have a hand in this."
Spot let out crude laugh and rested his hands on top of his cane, shaking his head. "That's obvious, Flash. Thank you." He turned his attention to Racetrack who looked like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. "Higgins, what do you have to say?"
Racetrack shrugged and gave him a confused look. "Flash already told you. We don't know what happened, none of us were there. He was on his way to see Sarah when he was attacked. He was by himself."
Spot groaned angrily and kicked the empty bucket across the floor. "Why was he alone? Are you guys not smart enough to realize that no one needs be out by themselves? Not until all this shit is dealt with. You guys aren't new to this, Higgins. Stupid. It's stupid shit like this that's going to let them get one over on us."
Racetrack steadied his breath, trying to reel his anger in. He knew a screaming match with Spot would end in a draw They both tended to get loud when they were pissed off. Besides, yelling could get them all kicked out of the lodging house. Not to mention, it wouldn't be good for Jack's healing process. He knew Spot was irate. It's not like Racetrack wasn't angry about it too. He proved that earlier when he was screaming at the other 3 guys. But Spot did have a bit of a point and Racetrack tried to keep that in mind when he spoke. "They aren't going to get one over on us, Spot. And you're right, we don't need to let anyone go out alone anymore. Everyone leaves in pairs from now on."
Spot gritted his teeth and tapped his cane on the floor. "They already DID get one over on us, Racetrack. People having escorts to go out should have already BEEN happening! This is bad and it makes us look weak," he spat. "Pathetic."
Flash uncrossed her arms and pointed towards the door. "Get out!" she barked sternly. "Take this outside if you can't lower your voice. Because this is the last thing any of us need right now, least of all Jack."
"Last time I checked, I was the one running things, doll." His blue eyes were ice, freezing a hole into her soul and her body went numb.
"Well, you're doing a shitty job then, huh?" she hissed. "I thought you said no one was going to get hurt. You were so confident in that. But you lied. Or you had your head too far up your own ass to see that this was never a game."
Footsteps broke through the tense air before Spot could remark back and Sarah came bursting through the doorway.
"Oh my god! Jack! Is he going to be, okay?! What happened? When?" Sarah fired off several questions at a time before anyone could give a response. "Oh my god, oh my god. I can't believe this happened!"
Racetrack walked swiftly across the room and took Sarah by the arm, leading her to the chair he had been sitting in. She looked like she was going to hyperventilate. "Take a breath Sarah. I'll explain everything to you, just calm down. He's going to be alright."
Flash turned her attention back to Spot just in time to see him stomp his way out of the door and down the hallway. She followed him out of the lodging house, anger coursing through her veins at his blatant disregard for the efforts put in to try and keep this whole situation under control. She didn't like the accusatory tone he had used with the pair of them when they had done nothing but tried to fix Jack. "Where are you going? Sean, you get back here right now! You don't get to come tramping your way over here throwing insults about something that none of us asked for and then just walk out."
Spot could feel his ears turn red as he spun around to face her. He studied her, obvious signs of disdain etched upon her usually soft features. He normally would find her sternness rather humorous, but tonight, it pissed him off.
"You don't get to tell me what I'm allowed to do, Flash. No one does. You aren't an exception. Get that through your head. If it had been any other person in that room other than Racetrack when you spoke to me like that... It would have been a much bigger issue. But I will cut you some slack, given the circumstances."
Flash let out a cold chuckle and stared him dead in his eyes, trying to fully convey her annoyance with this stupid facade he was putting up. "You can drop the tough leader act with me, Spot. We both know that you wouldn't really have done anything. I know you're scared. You can pretend you aren't all you want to. But that's why you're so angry. Because you don't like being scared."
Flash," he admonished, "I'm going to stop you right there. You don't know what I would do. And you don't know shit about how I feel. The only thing I feel right now is downright fucking mad at the negligence shown tonight."
"Like I said, you can pretend all you want. But I can see it in your eyes. You're terrified."
Spot clenched his jaw and set his gaze above her head, trying to look stony. She was right, he was scared. Jack didn't look too good. And as much as he hated to admit it, that could've been him. Because he didn't put too much stock into Phillips and his empty threats. Or what he thought were empty threats. He didn't like being proved wrong.
"If you can read my eyes, what are they saying?"
Flash searched for the feelings behind his eyes. She saw the fear. She saw anger. And something else, something she had seen before one other time. That night on Halloween. But it was muddled, and she couldn't quite place her finger on it. She crossed her arms in front of her again, shielding herself from the sudden feeling of vulnerability. "I just told you. You're scared. And mad, but that one is so obvious, you couldn't hide it if you tried."
"You're so oblivious," he muttered under his breath. He had clocked how close her and Racetrack had been before he walked in. In that split second the door opened before they reacted. Their heads were mere inches apart, and he saw her hand in his. The sight pissed him off. The sight made his stomach drop to his toes and he had fought every urge to run in there and rip their arms away from each other. He had a bitter taste in his mouth, and he swallowed to try to get rid of it.
"I'm right, aren't I?"
Spot turned his face to stone again and clenched his hands around the top of his cane, trying to force this bad feeling in his body down it and into the ground where it belonged. "No. Now get back in there, Allie. Get back in there to Race. I know that's where you want to be."
Flash scoffed and threw her hands up. "Of course, that's where I want to be. I need to be in there with Jack! He's family. And I don't have time to be out here coddling your precious ego."
"So, go. Go fucking be in there." He wanted her to say no. He wanted her to go back to Brooklyn with him. He wanted to keep an eye on her. He willed her to change her mind.
"You're the most selfish person I've ever had the misfortune of meeting, Spot Conlon. You can't honestly be angry that I have friends here. That I WANT to be here. What, you want me to just abandon him?"
"Just stay here then. Since you like it here so much, just live here. Don't bother coming back to Brooklyn. I don't want you there anymore."
Flash felt the sting of his words hit her like a punch in the gut. She felt her breath catch in her throat and had to forcefully push it out. She loved Brooklyn. It was slowly becoming her home, and he just tried to rip it out from under her. Flash was tired of everything being ripped from her. If he didn't want her there anymore, that was fine. She'd stay in Manhattan. They would never kick her to the curb the way he was doing now.
"Fine. I won't stay in Brooklyn anymore. That's a promise." She rifled through her bag and pulled out the frayed copy of Spot's book, half read but she didn't care. She shoved it in his hand and closed her bag again. "Keep my copy, I don't really care to have it back anymore."
He wordlessly tucked it under his arm, a sadness blooming in the bottom his stomach and snaking its way up to his chest. He turned to walk away but then stopped, shifting his body to half face her. "You can't read my eyes as well as you thought, little bird."
The air was sticky and thick and Spot could feel it weighing in his chest. At least, that's what he was telling himself was causing the heaviness. He thought the walk back to Brooklyn would have eased some of the stress he felt, some of the anger. But it just gave him more time to stew in his thoughts. Not a very good mix, but he was too far in to stop now. He might as well wallow in it.
He silently walked up the lodging house stairs, taking care to step over the one creaky board so as to not signal that he was home. He really didn't have the time nor the patience to be dealing with any of his lot right now. He needed his solitude. Making his way to his room, he noticed light coming from the other side of his door. Someone was in there and Spot felt a pang of panic seep into his heart. He quickly brushed it off, telling himself that there was no way anyone was there to ambush him. He turned the handle only to find out he was wrong.
"Oh Spot! You're home. I was starting to get worried, my honeybee." Betsy sang. She was curled up in his bed, under his blanket. Based on the pile of women's undergarments Spot saw on the floor, he was willing to bet she had no clothes on.
Spot rubbed his eyes and temples. He didn't have the energy for this right now. He didn't want her here. He needed her out.
"Betsy now isn't a good time. I've had a bad day, and I would much rather be alone."
Besty furrowed her brows and poked out her big bottom lip. "What, you aren't happy to see me?" she pouted. She patted the bed and coyly slid the blanket down, so it was draped off her body, exposing herself. "I have something that will cheer you up, baby."
Spot's vision got blurry, and his face got hot. He walked over and grabbed the blanket briskly, throwing it back on her to cover her up. "You know we don't do that shit in my bed. Besides, I told you I've had a bad day. I'm not in the mood."
Betsy slid the blanket down again, looking up at him seductively through her eyelashes. She ran a finger over her exposed skin suggestively, not breaking eye contact as she spoke. "I know, I just thought we could do it over here this time. You've never let me in this bed before, I thought I could leave my mark, and it could be fun. I'm here to make your day better. Come sit down, I'll take the best care of you." She reached out and started undoing his pants.
Spot gripped her wrists and flung her hands away from him. "I said no, dammit!" He yelled, what little patience he had dissipating instantly at her touch. "If I never let you in my bed before, what makes you think I would do it now? Put your fucking clothes on and get out. Now!" He snatched her clothes up off the floor and tossed them down on the bed.
Betsy wordlessly grabbed her clothes and started hastily putting them on. Once she was dressed, she stood to face him. "How could you talk to me like that, Spot? I'm your girl. You don't have to be so mean to me. I was just trying to surprise you and make you feel better. Look at me." She reached for his chin, and he recoiled at her advance, stepping back quickly.
"Don't touch me. I told you; you are not my girl. Have never been my girl. Will never BE my girl. There is nothing special about you or us. What part of that are you not getting through your daft head?"
Spot saw the tears start flowing down her cheeks, but he didn't care. He couldn't care less if he hurt her feelings. She put too much thought into this. She didn't see them for what they were. A good time. That's all they could be. And they couldn't even be that anymore. It stopped being fun.
"But... But I thought..." she stammered out through her shaky breaths, but Spot cut her off.
"That's where you made a mistake. I didn't keep you around to think. I kept you around to fuck. And I don't want to do that anymore. Not with you." He walked as calmly as he could over to the door and opened it, gesturing towards the exit. "Get out. And don't come back. I'm done with you."
Betsy let out a sob and ran past him, knocking him up against the wall as she tore out the door.
Jones appeared out of the darkness, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Yallright, Spot?" he slurred, still half asleep. "I thought I heard yelling. Was that Betsy that just ran out?"
Spot motioned for him to come into his room, ignoring his question. Jones shuffled his way in, rubbing the back of his head still trying to wake up.
Spot sat down on the bed and straightened his back, his authoritative nature taking over. It was time he did something. His chances were starting to dwindle and after tonight, he might be on his last one. He had to do this, and he had to do this now. Before it was too late.
"Everything okay, Spot?"
"You go some contacts in the Bulls office if I'm remembering correctly, dontcha?"
"Yeah."
"Good. I need your help finding someone."