Sunny Days Saga

Finish the Fight

 Fifth & final story in the Rain or Shine Series

Finale to Sunny Days Saga

By Laces

 

September 1902

The white light streamed in through the tall stained glass windows at the front of the church. The heat of the sunlight prickled against the shoulders of the small congregation gathered on either sides of the narrow aisle. The wedding of Spades Fia and Blue O’Reilly was a small and intimate gathering. In a tiny cobblestone church in the folds of Brooklyn with only a handful of family and close friends the two young people took another step together, growing up from their teenage passion and childhood adoration.

“I do.” Blue stated in a recognizable tone. The tall young man sounded confident and determined, everything that he had always been in all of his interactions. But today, in the presence of anyone who ever meant anything to him or his bride, was the first time that happiness crept into his cool demeanor. Wearing the first brand new shirt that he had owned in over five years, Blue’s eyes popped with excitement. He seemed unable and unwilling to pry his eyes from the face of his smiling bride.

As the priest repeated the questions of eternity and love to the young woman, Spades smiled as she repeated them back to the love of her entire life. Her dark hair flowing unrestrained, for the first time since she had started the gang, framed her face perfectly. It was the first time anyone in the small church, aside from her family members, had ever seen her wear a dress. Though the white gown was simple and far from being anything extravagant, Spades was glowing.

“I don’t think I’ve ever noticed her eyes are green.” Laces leaned into the muscular arms of the man standing next to her. Jack chuckled softly to himself as he bent his head down a bit to whisper back to her.

“I think that might be because they are hazel.”

Laces scrunched up her nose, obviously disagreeing with the statement but not daring to speak anymore. She could feel Cricket and South’s eyes piercing through the back of her skull. Sitting directly behind them, Laces or as she was better known these days Audrey’s guardians sat constantly watching and forever present. Thomas and Casey Longfellow, once legendary birds now members of elite high society sat directly behind Laces and Jack. The wedding guests of Spades Fia and Blue O’Reilly were an interesting mix of history makers, legends, and the foolish youth of the day.

“You may now kiss the bride!” The priest announced happily and not a moment too soon as Blue was on the verge of bursting from impatience. The crowd clapped enthusiastically, the younger men from Brooklyn following their newly crowned prince’s example of whooping approval. Bottle Cap elbowed his leader graciously to get him to stop making such a commotion, but Slingshot was immune to jibs from his second in command. The happy couple practically flew out of the church with Angel and Pockets following close behind them before the rest of the church started pouring out of their pews. It took Spot Conlon using his mighty cane to smack the top of Slingshot’s head before the hooting and hollering subdued.

“Ow, Spot! What’d you that for?” Slingshot demanded hotly balling up his fists.

“Because Mat-,” Spot started but didn’t get the rest of the name out.

“Slingshot.” Bottle Cap inserted. His voice forcefully giving his oldest friend and once mentor a touch of warning to go with the death glare gracing his young face.

“Now look here,” Spot pointed the tip of his cane at Bottle Cap. The second in command of Brooklyn didn’t even flinch before Slingshot had slapped the object away.

“Quit your bellyaching Conlon and don’t go hitting me on the head with that stupid cane, I might break it.” Slingshot warned. Before Spot could respond though Slingshot had slipped his hand into Cammie’s and the couple had ducked out of reach of the old leader’s wrath. Spot growled at Bottle Cap instead but Cap had moved on and was now talking to David Jacobs. Jack laughed loudly as he patted Spot on the shoulder.

“It looks like Brooklyn. Stubborn, pig headed and impulsive. But when did Brooklyn get so young?” Jack asked.

“Don’t tease him Jack, it’s not becoming of a man your age.” Caitlin Conlon chastised.  

“And what age are you suggesting that is there Cat?” Jack demanded. The old Manhattan leader was ushering Laces out of the church, with one arm around her waist tightly. Laces had one arm around his torso and the other hand was clasping the hand that came around her waist.

“He’s not going to escape from you right now, Audrey.” Critter had appeared next to Laces in his usual unexpected way.

“I’m not letting go.” Laces cried in a firm but desperate whisper.

“Really a lady of society…” Critter began in his parental tone of disapproval. Laces shook her head though, allowing strands of her delicately crafted bun to fall loose.

“No, no, no. Today I’m Laces and I’m with the glorious leader of the Manhattan newsies, Jack Kelly.” Laces gave a tiny stamp of her boot-clad heel. Critter smiled at the statement of false truth, as the conversation between old friends was turning into a debate of past and present colliding.

“Yeah, well at least the kid in charge of Brooklyn has enough sense not to be gambling in front of a church,” Spot waved his cane over to a hunched over Snipeshooter. Jack’s face lost its jovial contentment of the previous moment as his brown eyes settled on the scene beyond. Without so much as a thought Jack started to take steps towards the group of gamblers, but Laces clutched to him like a infant to their mother and Cricket stepped in his direct path.

“Ah, Jack Kelly, I believe you were just saying to Spot something about how he wasn’t the leader anymore,” Cricket gave a mocking smile.

“Snipeshooter should know better, I’m just going to go remind him…” Jack started to protest.

“No one was there to remind you of anything when you were a reckless kid.” Buttercup Tate laughed. Though not holding onto Spot for dear life as Laces was doing, Buttercup did appear happier than she had in months on the arm of Spot Conlon.

“Yeah well I was different…” Jack argued.

“As was I, let me just go remind Matthew Kai who is boss around these parts.” Spot nodded, itching to clobber the young new leader.  

“Slingshot!” Cap snapped. David and Cap stepped into the little circle of old friends and out of their conversation.

“Stop correcting me you half-wit, I am Spot Conlon. I can call him whatever I want.” Spot poked Cap in the ribs with his cane.  

“I’m going to take this damned thing away from you.” Cap grasped his hands around the tip of the cane.

“You dare,” Spot had inched closer, his face losing the carefree air of the west and in an instant mirroring the years of Brooklyn life that had created his image of fearlessly dangerous.  No one interfered, though it is unknown if it was because they agreed with Spot or with Cap.

“It’s not your Brooklyn anymore, you want us to look weak do you then?” Cap shot at his old leader. Spot squinted at him angrily but backed down from his stance, pulling his cane forcefully out of Cap’s hands.  

“You watch your tone with me, I can still beat you bloody.” Spot warned Cap as the younger boy sauntered away again.  

“They grow up so fast.” Cricket laughed watching the confident stride that was bordering on cocky that Cap had adopted as he rejoined the Brooklyn newsboys.

“At least your kid has got Cap, I mean that Cap has a sturdy head on his shoulders. But my idiot over there, Sand doesn’t scare a mouse. If I just walk over there, I don’t even have to say anything! Snipes will see me and stop.” Jack was arguing. As Jack made the argument though Slingshot and Cap had started heading towards the group of gamblers, cracking their knuckles in the menacing manner that Spot had taught them himself. Jack watched as the Brooklyn leadership broke up the gambling and Snipeshooter was whacked in the shoulder by Slingshot a few times. Spot laughed suddenly at the scene.

“They really are us.” He commented.

“I was the one pulling you out of trouble, never once did you have to …” Jack glared at Spot.

“Yeah, yeah?” Spot smiled. “What about when Jacky boy’s newsies were playing like they were going on strike? What about then…”

The argument escalated from there again as Critter bent down to whisper to Laces again.

“See sometimes, you need to let go.” He warned. Before she could stop the older man, he had tugged at her waist pulling her away from Jack ever so slightly. A crack of space-opened in-between her torso and Jack’s where a fall breeze brushed past making Laces shiver. Jack ran his hand up and down her shoulders responding to her reaction to the cold, little did he know that it was their separation that had caused her body to tremble.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a party out of their very memories. Long tables at the edges of the church hall with a group of merry looking men playing fiddles and other such instruments in a surprising mixture of traditional Irish jigs and contemporary music of the city. The bottles of whiskey sat freely upon each table and the plates of now left over food, still had remains of potatoes and cabbage.

Spades Fia was being paraded around the dance floor passing along playful between Blue, Pockets, Critter and Cricket. The men of the city had forgotten themselves easily, regressing to their boyish antics and charms. This was not the highbrow society wedding that the childhood friends had attended months prior, it was something much more comparable to a newsies poker night.

The pace of the music picked up as Jack pulled Laces body closer to his own and he focused on not tripping over his own feet. Spot mocked Jack’s attempt to dance as he jumped around his friend, Buttercup eternally smiling.

“I taught you how to do this dance,” Blue laughed above the fiddle, as he tried to show off his new bride and upstage Spot in the same moment.

“Obviously you didn’t teach him well.” Critter mocked from his edge of the dance floor. The music died down and in a strength only found in adults, the old friends held themselves composed enough not to drop to the floor in a pile of laughter.

“Come, come! Drink to Spades and Blue!” Pockets tumbled towards a table and lifted a bottle of Whiskey.

“How is it that we even have anything left to drink with how much you have consumed Benjamin Harper!” Cat Conlon chastised.

“For that you get the next sip,” Pockets winked and shoved the bottle towards the woman. Cat shook her head, trying to refuse but everyone started shouting about the bad luck it would bring and the oldest Conlon drank to the luck of her cousins. Pockets had retrieved the bottle of whiskey as it left Cat’s lips.

 

“Give it here,” Laces squealed. She lunged forward ducking before Critter even shot out his arm to stop her, anticipation had become an ingrained aspect of all of movements. A crease formed on the bridge of Jack’s nose as he noticed it, how Laces danced around her obstacles as if her whole existence had been nothing but a tightrope walk. Jack shook his head ignoring the hundredth thing he had noticed for the first time today about Laces. Instead he laughed stretching out his long arm and grabbed hold of the bottle of whiskey. Taking a swig before dropping it into Laces’ open palm.

 

“Audrey, you give that bottle back to Pockets.” Cricket commanded over a few dancing heads. 

 

“Do you see an Audrey here?” Laces looked around. Jack smiled brightly at her as he rested his arm around her shoulders. It had not escaped anyone that since Jack Kelly had stepped off the train yesterday afternoon that he had never been out of arm’s reach from Audrey Kai. 

 

“No. I do not see an Audrey. A Laces…” Jack laughed. Catching the glare from Critter O’Connell though Jack did expertly pry the bottle away from Laces. Slipping his fingers under hers to obtain a firm grasp on the bottle. He passed it along to Spot and carried Laces off in a dance again. Spot took the bottle of whiskey and winked at Buttercup as he passed her along to dance with Bottle Cap.

 

Spot Conlon practically skipped to the table where Casey and Thomas Longfellow lounged. Critter O’Connell was perched against the same table, seemingly at ease in his lean while knowingly at the ready to spring. It was a position familiar to birds and parents of toddlers alike.

 

“To your health, Crit.” Spot swayed as he held up the bottle. An audible sigh could be heard from Critter O’Connell but the man made no attempt to rain on the younger man’s merriment.

 

“Stop encouraging Audrey.” Casey snapped at the tall slightly bronzed Conlon. Spot quirked a smile and popped his golden eyebrows.

 

“Jacky boy is the one encouraging her… I haven’t even gotten to talk to her. Let alone encourage her.” Spot slammed the bottle of whiskey down onto the table with some force. Critter slanted an eyebrow at him but didn’t say a word.

 

“She’s watching you like a hawk, even if you haven’t talked to her.” Cricket glanced around Spot’s torso. A pair of dark coffee brown eyes was wide and observant from across the room. Spot stared over his shoulder to notice her and wink before turning back to the table.

 

“You taught her how to watch things like a hawk.” Spot shrugged. Critter’s hand flashed out in a blinding speed and smacked the back of Conlon’s head with just enough force to knock the young man’s head into his neck.

 

“What was that for?” Spot glared at Critter.

 

“You watch your tone, I can still beat you bloody.” Critter smiled as he repeated Spot’s own words from earlier in a thinly veiled mockery. 

 

 “Have you all gotten so old in our absence that you have to sit it out after only one dance?” Spot sidestepped away from Critter. Critter growled slightly but didn’t reach out to smack him again. Cricket laughed as he held South’s shoulders closer to him.

 

“Casey is feeling ill and it is getting late. We should get home…” Cricket started.

 

“And that means you too, Audrey.” Critter barely whispered as he was starring right at the girl.

 

“She will ignore you.” Spot sighed knowingly. 

 

“Blue and Spades will be ready to leave soon too, even the newsboys have started heading home.” Cricket defended.

 

“Well the newsies would get locked out if they stay out pass curfew.” Spot shrugged.

 

“Well, maybe your lodgings for the night will lock you out if you miss curfew.” Critter suggested still staring at Laces.

 

Audrey stared back at Critter defiantly for only a second until the song ended and a grin spread across her face and she began clapping. She broke their eye contact first, glancing to her right to stare at the dusty shoulder of Jack Kelly. He was wearing a white shirt that had dirt from somewhere out west still clinging to it. Laces had been studying his shoulder all day, burning the memory of how tall Jack actually was into her memory. Noticing the streaks of gold and hues of greens she had never seen in New York City but could only imagine on the landscape of real cowboys.

 

“Cousin,” Slingshot whispered at her left. Laces jumped and felt the steadying hand of Jack against her waist. 

 

“Matthew…” Laces growled.

 

“If even Spot Conlon can’t call me that anymore what makes you think you can?” Slingshot growled back. 

 

“I was always more charming than Spot Conlon.” Laces shrugged.

 

“It is true.” Jack whispered.  Slingshot didn’t look up to the old Manhattan leader but instead kept his eyes fixed on his cousin. 

 

“You’ll be all right?” Slingshot asked carefully. Audrey’s eyes flashed with a hint of rage and a great deal of hurt before she nodded.

 

“Haven’t I always been?” 

 

Slingshot nodded shooting out his hands and clasping hers tightly. Slingshot Kai was still short for his age measuring up to be only a hair taller than his cousin. He pushed his cheek onto her cheek and whispered his plead into her ear.

 

“Stay out of it. Please.” With his last words, he quickly dropped a kiss on her cheek and darted off with his girl and Bottle Cap trailing not far behind. 

 

“Everyone is always so worried about you.” Jack smiled down at her.

 

“Maybe it’s because I’m always so worried about everyone else.” Laces whispered back leaning forward to inhale the scent of Jack Kelly. 

 

“South is looking pale.” Blue commented pulling Laces out of her trance. She glanced back to the table, Critter was impatiently snapping his left fingers against his thigh and South did appear very pale.

 

“This won’t be the last time you see us.” Spades promised with a barely contained grin.

 

“I’m suppose to be part of society know,” Laces frowned.

 

“What we ain’t society?” Pockets rested his head against Laces bare shoulder. 

 

“I’m expected to be the ward of the Longfellow couple.” Laces shrugged trying to get Pockets off. 

 

“It’s all over the society pages.” Blue laughed. 

 

“Pockets,” Spades winked as she took Blue’s hand and let him lead her away again.

 

“Pockets is going to waltz you over to your guardians now.” Jack chuckled. Laces let Pockets playfully pushed her across the dance floor. Jack strode along behind the two, never further away than an arm’s length from his girl. 

 

“Time to leave.” Critter announced. He stretched out as he spoke to grab Laces before she could escape.  Pockets winked at Laces as he jumped off back to find Angel.

 

“Do be a good girl about it, Casey is feeling faint.” Thomas whispered as he wrapped his arms around his wife.

 

“Are you ill?” Laces frowned not even attempting to shake off the firm grasp of Critter.  Casey just nodded at the girl as Thomas lifted her to her feet and started leading her out of the warmth of the party. Spot Conlon leaned his shoulder into Laces’ shoulder playfully as his blue eyes pierced through her.

 

“You’ve been avoiding me?” He mouthed. Laces shrugged as she glanced back over her shoulder to make sure Jack was still near her. 

 

“I am going to give the bride and groom a farewell, when I come back I’ll escort you out.” Critter stated as he dropped her arm and wandered into the merry wedding guests.   Chesa appeared at Laces side the moment Critter left, if by chance or planning could not be ascertained.  Chesapeake had begun as of late to appear softer in her usually rough appearance. Her usually cropped hair was growing out past her shoulders and there was a rosy tint to her rounding cheeks. The old bird no longer just disappeared into her surroundings effortlessly because something had changed about her. Not even the stubborn, set in her ways Chesapeake could escape the marching of time that had settled around her. 

 

“You do know Casey and Thomas Longfellow are part of the Knickerbockers society of New York.”  Chesa stated lazily letting her eyes dart around. Laces knew she was studying everything in the room from where Critter was standing to what kind of shoes the fiddle player was wearing.

 

“A knickerbocker?” Laces sighed. Chesa rarely just spoke to speak, she always had a purpose with her conversation. A habit probably formed from years of having to gain and give information rapidly. 

 

“The high brow, rich society of the city. Now that you are back, you should know this will be harder than the society of the shore. Most of them weren’t even knickerbockers.” Chesa explained.

 

“Why don’t you just come out and tell her what you want to tell her Chesa, why always beating around the bush?” Spot demanded.  Chesa ignored him though and maintained her scanning of the room.

 

“I won’t be seeing the newsies anytime soon?” Laces guessed.

 

“South McCain use to be an expert at living a double life, maybe, just maybe she will teach you how to do both. But now, in her condition it might not be possible…” Chesa trailed off as she stepped forward to meet Critter as he approached.

 

“What were you telling her?” Critter growled, knowing what she had been telling her. 

 

“Damn birds, always so mysterious. Speaking in riddles, mostly just to drive me crazy. Teach me some kind of lesson…” Spot grumbled at Laces left.

 

“Not everything is about you, Spot Conlon.” Laces hissed at him as she reached out to grab hold of Jack. 

 

“Or you Laces Kai.” Jack laughed as he kissed her temple.

 

“Are you mad at me Laces?” Spot growled. Laces shrugged as she pressed her lips tightly together to keep from snapping at the old Brooklyn leader.

 

“Audrey,” Critter motioned for her to follow him as he walked with Chesa towards the door. 

 

“Haven’t seen me in months and acting like some spoiled child.  There will be a moment when Jack Kelly won’t near and you and I will talk Laces.” Spot sighed as he pushed off the table to find Buttercup Tate. Laces scrunched up her nose but let Jack softly guide her from the party, the last of its kind she would be seeing for a long time. If Audrey Kai had known how long it would be before she saw another gathering such as this, she might have savored those last few minutes but she never suspected how she would miss it.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It had been three months since the charming street girl, Laces, had turned into the elegant lady of society, Audrey. Four months ago Laces had watched the love of her young life and the only brother she had ever known leave the city of New York indefinitely. It had been almost six years since Audrey met Spot and Laces met Jack. Almost six years ago that the broken scandal torn child Audrey had turned into the mysteriously intoxicating young Laces. Audrey Alexander Kai had never had a peaceful life, at least not one she could remember.

 

But in this moment, under the pale fall moon that was almost visible in the city’s night sky Laces felt an eerily sense of calm. She knew it was nearing midnight, a time she had learned to love in New York City, maybe from the dreamer Jack Kelly or maybe from her countless nights on the rooftops of the lodging houses. It was quieter on the back steps of the small garden of the Longfellow Estate near Fifth Avenue than it had ever been on Duane Street or in Brooklyn Heights. Casey Longfellow had gone to bed hours ago and Thomas Longfellow remained patiently awake waiting for his ward to find her way to bed. Laces could sense Thomas waiting for her, hovering near his study window carefully glancing out to assure himself she was still on the steps. He wouldn’t impose or demand for her to come inside, not like Casey. Thomas would wait for her to be ready to come inside.

 

Laces pulled the ragged quilt she had tugged out with her around her shoulders, closed her eyes and leaned against the iron railing of the steps. She sat curled into her own torso and her arms tightly wrapped around her knees. She just needed a moment, a time of the day not at the wedding, a time when she was alone. She heaved in a deep, quivering breath and inhaled the recognizable scent of power and cockiness with just the slightest hint of trepidation.

 

“Conlon.” Laces sighed without opening her eyes.  She could feel the warmth of Spot Conlon standing behind her, his knees close enough to her ear to hit her shoulder if he decided to bounce up and down. Without opening her eyes, Laces knew Spot was shuffling his feet as she listened to the grinding of tiny stones from the brick against his wood soles. A smile crept to the dimple on her right cheek as she counted down to the coughing she knew Spot would resort to next.

 

Spot Conlon did dramatically cough as he looked down at Laces. The young woman didn’t open her eyes though, not even for the cough. She merely leaned her head further into the iron railing and tilted her chin up. In the moonlight, if Spot Conlon didn’t know better he might have believed Audrey Alexander Kai was at peace.

 

“What you doing out here?’ Spot finally asked. He settled down to sit next to Laces, close enough that Audrey could feel his elbow rise to light the cigarette hanging from his mouth. Laces opened her eyes, blinking as the smoke from Spot’s cigarette hit her eyes.

 

“Thinking.” Laces smiled at the wrinkles that formed on Spot’s forehead. Spot had never been one much for thinking or even dreaming that was always something best left to others.

 

“Thinking about what?” Spot asked wearily of her answer before hearing it.  Laces pressed her left palm into her left cheek, letting the warmth spread on her rapidly cooling face. Spot noticed the movement and held out his cigarette for her as he scooted closer to her. 

 

“Just thinking.” Laces instinctively took the cigarette and pressed it between her two thumbs, letting the heat of the tiny bud radiate into her hands. 

 

“About who?” Spot tried to suppress his scoffing.

 

“What is the west like?” Laces lifted her chin and looked up at the moon. Spot rolled his eyes as he carefully tucked the quilt tighter around Laces shoulders and snatched back his cigarette. 

 

“Empty.” Spot responded. Laces smiled, she hadn’t expected Spot to describe the majestic nature of the west as Jack might. 

 

“Empty?” Laces pushed her chin into her chest. The swinging of her chin pulled the chain around her neck and Spot caught sight of a sparkling key.

 

“You want to be talking to Jack?” Spot frowned at the key dangling on her neck. 

 

“We never talked much, Spot.” Laces whispered letting her right hand dance up to clutch the key. 

 

“Of course we did.” Spot flicked the last bit of his cigarette out into the Longfellow garden. 

 

“Why do you think I want to be talking to Jack?” 

 

“Being out west has always been about Kelly.” Spot shrugged. 

 

“Are you happy?” Laces wondered. 

 

“Life isn’t about being happy Laces.” Spot smiled.

 

“What is life about then mighty Brooklyn?”

 

“Surviving and maybe… just maybe smiling once and a while.” Spot shrugged as a broad cocky smile graced his face.

 

“Throwing a good punch.” Laces sighed through a stifled yawn. Spot twitched and pulled out another cigarette as he ignored the anxious fidgeting of the girl next to him.

 

Laces was impatiently studying him in the moonlight. Spot Conlon was no longer the boy king though traces of the Brooklyn swagger remained. Though still actively refusing to be called by his birth name of Patrick, Spot Conlon was now a man. The West had not bronzed Spot as it had Jack, but Laces had always known Conlon to be the more temperate of the two. But there was more color in Spot’s light skin tone and his hair had grown lighter and longer. His shoulders were no longer as square and he didn’t automatically clench his jaw as if holding all his anger back by gritting his teeth. Spot Conlon had relaxed just slightly, not enough that anyone without a trained pair of eyes would notice. But Laces had noticed. She knew exactly how his posture had changed.

 

“You changed too, you know.” Spot finally spat out harshly. His blue flickered with the usual impatience and annoyance at having to explain himself to anyone. Laces smiled at him and in over dramatic slow motion rested her head against his shoulder.

 

“How?” She prompted him.

 

“This…” Spot’s fingers pulled at the tied up strands of her hair.  “Always done now?’

 

“A proper lady doesn’t even walk around the home without her hair done up.” Laces giggled. 

 

“Your cheeks are rounder.” Spot continued.

 

“Think I’ve gotten heavier?” 

 

“Think you’ve had three square meals a day for a regular period.” Spot responded sternly giving the girl a warning to keep up the habit if she knew what was good for her. 

 

Spot didn’t finish explaining the differences he saw in her. Instead he let his hand rest on her properly straightened back. He felt Laces let her body relax becoming heavier on his shoulder as she fought with sleep.

 

“You can’t let how much you miss us affect you this much Audrey.” Spot whispered. He felt how her shoulder popped, her shock and displeasure with Spot being a physical reaction.

 

“Would you have taken Fiona with you?” Laces whispered. It was Spot’s turn to let his body react to his shock, his wrist flicked inward as if preparing his hand for a fistfight but instead it pulled Laces grimly closer.

 

“Yes.” He responded automatically, instantly. He had anticipated the fight from Laces to get away from him. His hold on her was strong and held her in place despite her struggles. 

 

“Stop that.” Spot growled at her.

 

“You would have taken Fiona, but you leave me behind…” Laces reproached. Spot ran his thumb back and forth on the bare skin above Laces’ elbow.

 

“You are better loved than Fiona. You find protectors everywhere. You are well here.” Spot whispered to her trying to soothe and make her understand her reality. 

 

“I am not better here.” Laces fought the tears that were starting to prick behind her eyes.

 

“Maybe not. But you are well. Taken care of skirts, schooling… three square meals a day.” Spot repeated.

 

“You would have taken Fiona.” Laces fought the tears now streaming down her face as she yawned again. 

 

“I use to be more selfish.” Spot whispered and then Laces fell. She choked out a sob as she slammed her shoulder into the stone steps. 

 

“Audrey?” 

 

Laces pulled the quilt around her tighter and pushed her knees into her stomach. No one said her name again until a pair of strong arms picked her up easily, expertly from the ground and carried her into the light of the house.

 

“Audrey,” The whisper was forceful but calm. 

 

“Spot, you can put me down.”  Laces gurgled through a sleep sob.

 

“You are burning up.” He chastised.

 

“Spot, put me down. Where is Jack?” She asked clutching to his shirt.

 

“Baby doll, Spot and Jack aren’t here.” Thomas Longfellow stated worried.

 

“We haven’t really been here all day Laces, but you know that.” Jack laughed somewhere in the distance. It was a carefree laugh, the kind Laces remembered from the nights in Manhattan when Racetrack was running a poker game and Snipeshooter was playfully hiding Race’s favorite cigar. 

 

“You’ve been imaging us all day.” Spot added more seriously. 

 

“Get the doctor.” Thomas was directing someone as Laces felt him ascend up the stairs.

 

“Jack…” Laces croaked.

 

“He’s in New Mexico. We got a post card this morning, him and Spot are well.” Thomas tried to explain. 

 

Thomas pushed open the doors of the room that was designated as Audrey’s in the mansion of the city. He stormed through his own house to get the girl upstairs and the maids trailed behind him anxiously.  Thomas was calmly commanding the servants around him, getting one of their expert hands to undress the girl as he directed for cold compresses. In the fury of movements, Cricket instinctively reached for a window cracked it open and whistled out a little tune. 

 

“They will take care of you.” Spot’s voice rang in her head.

 

“And we’ll come back.” Jack promised. Laces closed her eyes as Thomas’ rough hands pressed a cold compress onto her forehead.

 

                                                ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

It was early enough that she should have been able to hear the morning headline through the icy pane of glass. But even as she gingerly pressed her flushed cheek against the chilled glass, no sound reached her ear from the street. No young businessman would sell his papers near Fifth Avenue. It was never worth the hassle and hardly ever made enough pennies to justify the walk. The glass was starting to warm underneath her cheek but it was the ear not pressed against the window that heard murmured voices.

 

Audrey recognized the calmly warm tone of Thomas Longfellow placating the gravely annoyed voice of Christopher O’Connell. She pressed her eyes closed, working to focus just on the sounds outside. Audrey began to imagine the shouting, the cocky yet charming drawl of Jack Kelly hollering about some political scandal. She knew she was imagining his voice, pretending to know the headline was the same as improving them. But she couldn’t ignore the voices just outside her bedroom door. 

 

“What did the doctor say?” Critter was demanding.

 

“Doctor Watson suggested my entire household might be prone to nervous overreaction.” Thomas sighed.

 

“What does that mean?” Critter’s voice was rising and Audrey could hear him clearly even through the oak door and her imagination.

 

“Due to Casey’s delicate condition, well…” Thomas was mumbling enough to cause Audrey to push face away from the window.

 

“What did he say about the girl?” Critter prompted. Audrey squinted her eyes madly at the closed door, letting wrinkles frown in between her eyes.

 

“Over excitement. Dr. Watson believes she was just over excited, not running a fever. I explained she has been having trouble sleeping and does have the occasional fainting spell.” Thomas explained.

 

“She’s been having trouble sleeping?” Critter barked. Audrey rolled her eyes as she pushed her cheek back onto the window, flinching at the renewed chill.

 

The men stood talking outside the door for at least another three echoing headlines before the brass doorknob began to jingle. Audrey inhaled deeply once before sprinting across the room on her toes and jumping back into bed.

 

“Dr. Watson has insisted she remain in bed for at least three days, in case she is actually ill. But he believes it is just a case of a young girl being over excited.”  Thomas whispered as he pushed the door open and stepped into the room.

 

“And the imaginings?” Critter’s hoarse whisper barely managed to sound like a question. Audrey pressed her eyes closed again and tried to relax her body enough to appear as if she was sleeping. 

 

“You once imagined people too.” Thomas words were only audible to Audrey because he stood next to her bed. She fought her desire to pop open her eyes and study Thomas Longfellow, to give meaning to his words beyond just the words.

 

“You were ordered to stay in bed.” Critter spoke normally, no longer trying to whisper. Callous fingers wrapped around her wrist and Audrey felt the blankets tightened around her as Critter sat down.

 

“I am in bed.” Audrey stated calmly without opening her eyes.

 

“But you weren’t a moment ago.” Thomas sighed noticing the imprint of a cheek on the window.

 

Blinking her eyes open, a smile played upon Audrey’s pale lips. She didn’t look at Critter, the man who was pressing his thumb against her wrist trying to gauge some unknown quantifiable sign of her good health.  Instead the young lady glanced up, innocently at her guardian.

 

“What delicate condition is Casey in?” 

 

A laugh escaped Critter before he dropped her wrist, satisfied in her condition immediately.

 

“We shall discuss it in three days, after you have had your doctor recommend rest.” Thomas shook his head. He reached out and pressed the back of his hand against her forehead.

 

“I am not running a fever.” Audrey tried to slap his hand away without success.

 

“You are flushed again.” Thomas pointed out.

 

“From having her face pressed against the morning window.” Cricket pointed to the window again.

 

“Am I going to have to leave a maid to watch you, like an infant?” Thomas glared at the girl. Audrey shook her head.

 

“I don’t need to stay in this bed, Dr. Watson doesn’t even believe anything is wrong with me.” Audrey argued. 

 

“Aside from overexcitement. Some rest would do you some good.” Critter stated seriously.

 

“But…” Audrey began.

 

“Ah, strength. You and Mrs. Longfellow are to go shopping in three days time for the fall fashions.” Thomas held up his hand not allowing for any more argument.

 

“I don’t require any more fashion.” Audrey shook her head.

 

“You are required to do whatever you are told to do.” Critter snapped his fingers.

 

“Doing whatever I am told would have led me to die on the streets long ago.” Audrey snapped as she crossed her arms protectively over her torso. A low growl came from Critter but before the man could reproach the girl, Nancy the maid came rushing into the room with a breakfast tray.

 

“Mister Thomas, ma’am is asking for you and reminding you that you have a business meeting.” Nancy announced. Thomas glanced at Audrey, worry sparkling in his light brown eyes. Critter tilted his head and waved his hand ever so slightly and Thomas gave a curt nod. Audrey rolled her eyes as Thomas leaned forward and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

 

“Stay in bed.” He commanded. Thomas winked at Nancy as she settled the tray of food in front of Audrey.  Thomas slipped out as quietly as he had entered leaving Audrey with his gruffer counterpart.

 

“Gave Mr. Thomas quite a scare last night Miss Audrey.” Nancy started fussing about the room, opening windows and draping lace curtains. 

 

“Is it because of Casey’s condition…” Audrey began.

 

“Ah poor Mrs. Casey…”

 

“…Nancy.” Critter shook his head. Nancy blushed genuinely and mumbled off the rest of her concern. Audrey audible sighed as she began to slowly push the tray of food away from her.

 

“Nancy, did you maybe get the paper this morning?” Audrey smiled innocently still pushing the tray away. Critter frowned and reached out and stuck the spoon into the oatmeal.

 

“You know we only get Mr. Thomas a morning paper, miss and he hasn’t read it yet this morning…” Nancy began. Critter had left the spoon sticking straight up in the oatmeal waiting for Audrey to begin eating.

 

“If he doesn’t take it….” Audrey started a regular conversation of the Longfellow Estate since she had arrived. The servants all collected the morning, afternoon and evening editions of papers for the young ward of their household, though usually secretly. 

 

“Audrey, eat.” Critter commanded as he glanced up at Nancy with a smile. The maid shook her head at the girl before she also ducked out of the room. 

 

“What delicate condition is Southie in?” Audrey whispered as she pushed the spoon around the oatmeal but didn’t lift it. 

 

“What delicate condition are you in?” Critter countered with a sigh. Over the last two years the man had learned to have the patience of a saint, in his opinion, when dealing with the young Kai.

 

“The overexcitement of any girl coming home from the summer on the shore…”  Audrey faked a swoon while expertly pushing her tray of food away.

 

Critter leaned forward and pulled a spoon full of oatmeal out of the bowl. He pushed the spoon directly at Audrey’s face, letting his arched dark eyebrows do all his arguing. She sucked her lips in and shook her head but was easily defeated when a low growl escaped Critter.

 

“Good girl.” He sighed as she allowed the spoon to invade her mouth. She reached out and took the spoon for herself but didn’t make any quick movements to add more food.  Instead Audrey held tight to the now empty spoon as she let it drop to her side. 

 

“Crit?” She ventured once she had swallowed the oatmeal. Audrey’s eyes were focused. She was studying the man sitting next to her so carefully that Critter wondered what was on the girl’s mind.

 

“Hm?” He prompted her, staring at the empty spoon. 

 

“Who did you use to imagine?” 

 

Critter O’Connell was rarely caught off guard in his life, but his experienced gaze startled off the spoon and his golden irises practically bounced up to Audrey’s face. Laces tried not to smile at the confusion that hit Critter. Confusion settled over the man like a splash from a fountain of youth. His eyes bounced with a youthful glitter and even his near perfectly combed hair seemed to fall out of place. 

 

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop it is not polite.” Critter tried to state without smiling at his own hypocrisy.

 

“You taught me to eavesdrop.” She snapped with a smile.

 

“You heard it from the window?” Critter asked sweeping the length of the room. Audrey nodded. 

 

“Impressive. Maybe we should have let you be a bird,” Critter muttered more to himself.

 

“Birds don’t exist, whispers of the wind really just imagings …” Audrey’s eyes naturally looked up, searching the fancy high beams of the room for shadows. 

 

“Were you seeing Jack and Spot?” Critter asked.

 

“And David. Imaging them, they should have been there.” Audrey reproached Critter ever so slightly. He heard the tone and knew she blamed him for the lack of appearance of the boys. She had convinced herself that Jack Kelly and Spot Conlon would be returned to their home by the mighty Critter for the event of Spades and Blue’s wedding. 

 

“You know they were not here?”

 

“They are in New Mexico.” 

 

“Yes.”  Critter nodded and tapped on the tray of food in front of Audrey, encouraging her to take another bite. She shook her head.

 

“Audrey,” He sighed.

 

“I will eat if you tell me who you use to imagine.” She bargained.

 

“The whole bowl?” He prompted.

 

“The whole tale?” She frowned. He nodded and pointed at the bowl.

 

“I use to imagine a girl, a girl who died.” Critter scratched the back of his head impatiently.

 

“The bird?” Audrey question. Critter just nodded waiting for her to eat more.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

The sun was blazing down on the desert land of New Mexico with a stinging heat that Jack Kelly had to focus to ignore. The brim of a worn hat cast just enough of a shadow on his face to keep the light from blinding him. He was starring down at what he could only surmise use to be the main street of Silver City, New Mexico. Despite the oddity of the street having sunk down almost two levels, the scene was almost familiar to a man that had spent many afternoons in Five Points and Lower East side.

 

The destruction of several floods had torn up the storefronts and the chasm that once was Main Street was filled with lingering pools of water, piles of forgotten trash and broken parts of nature. Jack stared at a tree stump, finding it the only part of the scene that reminded him of his surroundings. Just one breath of the crisp fresh air and Jack would remember he was in a town out west and not in an over crowded section of a city his heart wouldn’t quit aching over.  Jack snapped his fingers impatiently chastising his mind for wandering into memories of New York.

 

“Paper, mister?” A boy with curly hair and a look of discontent shoved a paper up at Jack. Jack cocked an eyebrow in shock at the boy but didn’t move to push the paper away from his chin.

 

“A newspaper?” Jack asked biting back his desire to curse the boy, his paper and all the memories stirring to hell. 

 

“Yeah, can’t you see it?” The boy replied cheekily. Jack frowned swinging his arm up and pushing the hat up to let the boy clearly see his face. Since the second week as the leader of Duane Lodging House Newsboys in Manhattan, Jack Kelly had a habit of making sure others could see his displeasure with their actions clearly without the obstruction of his hats. 

 

“I can see the paper in my face just fine kid, but if you’re trying to sell it to me you’re doing a scab dumb job of it.” Jack announced finally swiping the paper from the kid.

 

“Hey, you take it you buy it mister!” The boy snapped huffily holding out his pudgy hand for payment.

 

“I’ll tell you what, I will buy it if you can tell me one of the headlines.” Jack folded the paper like an expert, not even sparing a glance on it. Instead the man bent down on one knee and stared expectantly at the boy in front of him. The newsboy of New Mexico was better fed than the newsboy of the city. Jack could tell this boy lived with a family. A family that fed him well and that pushed him out the door to sell newspapers to keep him from getting into mischief in the kitchen. Jack smiled when he noticed the boy reminded me somewhat of David Jacobs, a younger less ambitious David but still the same type of family boy.

 

“That’s what you got the paper for. Read the headlines yourself.” The boy scoffed. Jack shook his head.

 

“How do I know if I want to buy it, if you don’t even tell me what’s in it?” Jack asked patiently. Jack had taught countless boys had to be proper newsies. It was second nature for the man to be having this conversation with a ten year old.

 

“I suppose you don’t.” The boy shrugged uncomfortable at being spoken to by an adult. Jack smiled as he watched the boy squirm, shifting his eye focus to the ground and fidgeting with his hands. This boy was use to be lectured, chastised for most of his actions.

 

“Newsies are suppose to sell papers, by letting people know what the headlines are. Let’s try this again...” Jack sighed as he held out the paper to the boy.

 

“Are you going to buy a paper?” The boy asked suspiciously.

 

“If you’re going to sell it to me.” Jack countered waiting for his headline. The young boy grudgingly unfolded the newspaper with his clumsy hands. Jack noticed David walking around the corner about a half a city block away if Jack were to estimate. 

 

“City’s Mainstreet is flooded.” The boy coughed out the headline unenthusiastically. Jack snapped his eyes down to the child and frowned before glancing over at the destruction of Mainstreet. 

 

“Yeah, I can see that for myself.” Jack grumbled.

 

“It’s on the front page.” The boy pointed to the main article of the thin paper. Jack rolled his eyes. Silver City, New Mexico didn’t have newspapers like New York City, New York.

 

“All right, here.” Jack dropped the penny into the upturn hand as he took the paper without a glance at the headline. The newsboy ran before the strange man could lecture him anymore or demand anything else from him. Jack shook his head as he flipped past the first page and read his newspaper.

“Torturing the local newsies?” David mocked as he reached his friend.

 

“Kid wasn’t even shouting the headlines.” Jack grumbled.

 

“Is there more than one headline in this town?” David questioned as he glanced over his friend’s arm to view the paper. Jack shoved his friend playfully as he handed over the paper.

 

“Can we get on to Santa Fe?” Jack asked wistfully looking out to the horizon of the desert.

 

“There is a lot of work here Jack,” David reminded his friend. David had been the one to convince the once all-powerful leaders of Manhattan and Brooklyn to change their destined course. He had heard of the floods of Silver City, a problem they have been having for years the most recent storm hitting in August. But more importantly David had heard that there would be enough work for over a dozen men to rebuild storefronts and patch up Mainstreet again. After some persuasion Jack and Spot had agreed Santa Fe could wait another few months, as they had heard of no work in that city. Jack had waited for Santa Fe for most of his life and a few more months wouldn’t kill him. Besides the boys could use the steady income, as all three were trying to pinch every penny they could spare.

 

“We should find a place to stay.” David suggested folding up the newspaper. Jack was starring up at the sky now, letting the sun beat onto his face with a reckless abandon that made Jack’s skin also a shade or two darker than Spot’s or David’s.

 

“Jack?” David pressed inching to get to find a meal, a bed and work.

 

“The sun looks the same.” Jack spat the words out with a hint of annoyance. David squinted his eyes and looked up at the sun.

 

“As it always does?” David offered up the information as he blinked quickly and dropped his gaze. How Jack could stare up at the brightness for as long as he did was beyond the levelheaded man of the bunch.

 

“Maybe brighter?” Jack stated hopefully dropping his gaze finally.

 

“Without the buildings, we can see how bright it is. In the city, we were always in the shades of the buildings… you know the World building was one of the tallest in the world.” David started rambling. David Jacobs often talked about New York City, without the aching that colored the voices of Jack and Spot whenever they spoke of it. David didn’t miss the city like his friends. He didn’t miss the scent of rotting vegetables in the Lower East Side or the shrill cries of babies. Granted, he did miss the newspapers, the shouting of headlines, the delight of being with his friends and feeling like they were the masters of their own faiths despite their conditions. But David still experienced that thrill. He was after all roaming the West with the great Jack Kelly and the mighty Spot Conlon.

 

“I once told your sister the sun was different in New Mexico. Bigger…” Jack rambled as he started to lead the way to the entrance of the general store of Silver City.

 

“Knowing Sarah, she laughed and said it was the same sun…” David smiled sadly. The way Jack and Spot missed the city was the way David missed his family. 

 

“Yeah, but you can’t say it ain’t bigger Davy.” Jack pointed up at the sun. David laughed at Jack’s insistency. 

 

“It’s the same sun Kelly,” Spot growled stopping in front of the two men. Spot Conlon was calmer than he had been in days with a cigarette comfortably sitting in the edge of his mouth. He held out a pack of cigarettes to Jack, who readily took them and instantly pulled one out as well. It had been three days since the boys had run out of their last pack somewhere along the New Mexico border. Spot had already been irritable, missing his cousin’s wedding was not something the man was particularly pleased about and he had made no attempt to hide his anxiousness.

 

“Didn’t bother with food, but the presses stop rolling when Kelly and Conlon don’t have their cigs.” David grumbled as loudly as his stomach. Jack laughed as he lit his cigarette and threw his arm around his friend. 

 

“I found us a place to sleep Mouth, how about you show some gratitude.” Spot flicked his cigarette.

 

“I think our pal Dave wants a meal not a place to sleep, Conlon.” Jack smiled.

 

“I think our pal Dave wants both.” Spot chuckled as David opened his mouth to give his opinion only to find his friends had already said everything he was thinking.

 

“I got us free lodging.” Spot grinned beaming with pride.

 

“It ain’t like that town in Texas where we had to sleep in the wagons?” David almost whined.

 

“A bed is a bed.” Spot pointed out. “But no, I got us a couple of beds above the general store. They take boarders every once in a while, and as long as we work to fix their store front first the shop keeper will let us board for free for two weeks.” Spot explained.

 

“He noticed he’ll make that back in cigarette sales?” David quipped. Spot popped his knee up and foot back, hitting David right below the knee on the left leg. 

 

“You ain’t going to be a walking mouth much longer…” Spot warned.

 

“Why don’t we find some food?” Jack laughed.

 

The three men walked towards a small boarding house, where there was sure to be a meal for sale in the middle of the day.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Even candlelight flickered peacefully in the vastness of the west and in the quiet darkness of the night a city boy might believe the flames crackled loudly. Spot Conlon laid rigidly still in a tiny cot against the wall, in a room that was cramp enough to remind him of home. His eyes were closed and he was pretending to sleep but anyone who knew the man would know Spot Conlon was restless in his stillness. The burning candle distracted him from sleep as the light danced upon his closed eyelids. He could feel the heavy breathing of Jack Kelly not more than three feet away from him.

 

Spot was itching to smoke, calm his nerves enough to sleep. But he couldn’t smoke inside this tiny room, the store keeper’s wife would throw him out so fast it’d remind him of a swift kick from Critter O’Connell himself. For the third time in one evening Spot cursed the western landscape for it’s stout buildings without fire escapes and no access to the rooftops. It was a strange thing to miss, rooftops but Spot Conlon itched for the familiarity of standing atop a building. A place above everything else, a place where he could look down upon a city and smoke to his heart content. Spot’s hand twitched and he huffed out a loud sigh.

 

“We could open the window.” Jack whispered. Spot let his eyes pop open enough to glare at the back of Jack Kelly’s head. After living an entire lifetime with one another, it was hard not to be completely aware of each other’s tendencies.

 

“You making your own flicker picture over there with that infernal candle?” Spot demanded in a harsh whisper. The way Jack’s shoulders popped let Spot know the other man was laughing at his annoyance. Only Kelly ever laughed at Spot Conlon, well Kelly and a particular Kai.

“I never thought about how often I escaped up to the roof, to think.” Jack shrugged before turning around to stare at his oldest friend. 

 

David Jacobs stifled a half snore before throwing his arm over the side of his cot. David was the only one of the three of them that ever slept peacefully, a byproduct of not growing up on the streets. Jack and Spot could never shake the need to sleep with one eye open and the readiness to run at a moment’s notice.

 

“Why don’t you get into bed, close your eyes and pretend to be on the rooftops Kelly.” Spot sighed annoyed he had to give such ridiculous advice.  

 

“Trying to write a letter.” Jack shrugged sheepishly.

 

“Do you think they missed us at the wedding?” Spot asked careful to stare at the ceiling and not at the distorted hope on Jack’s face. 

 

“Yes.” Jack nodded turning away from Spot again. They were never ones to need to have heart to heart discussions facing each other. It was easier to protect themselves from potential threats if they were looking away from each other when speaking.

 

“You know, Critter might not be letting her get your letters.” Spot commented nonchalantly. It was am attempt to make his friend feel better about the lack of communication from the girl that held his heart. In the four months since they had left New York, Jack had written Laces a letter every two weeks. He had received only two in return. Two shared letters to him and Spot.  It was easy to blame the few letters on the lack of a permanent location as the longest place the men had stayed was in the town on the border of New Mexico and Oklahoma. Both letters Laces had sent arrived in the small town where Jack Kelly had left a broken-hearted schoolgirl with a crush behind.  Adding to his sense of villainous, it had been Samantha Timbers who had forwarded his second letter from Laces to the tiny train stop in Texas where the men had stopped for two weeks. 

 

“That’s why I send them to different people.” Jack sighed knowingly. Jack was well aware of Critter O’Connell’s methods and had anticipated his communications being blocked. He sent letters to several friends throughout the city. Sometimes to Racetrack Higgins at Irving Hall, other times to Skittery at the Hudson Theater, or still other times to Peach in Midtown. Rarely did Jack address a letter to the same place. Fortunately he still had many friends. Old acquaintances would find ways to deliver his letters. There was no doubt his thoughts would reach the hands of his girl.

 

“What have you been writing to her?” Spot rested his hand over his mouth, breathing through his fingers in an attempt to trick his mind into believing a cigarette laid between them. 

 

“Just telling her what the west is like…” Jack started tapping the clunky pencil against the desk.

 

“Telling her a tale are you, Kelly?” Spot mocked.

 

“Sometimes I tell her it’s nothing like Western Jim made me believe it would be.” Jack defended. 

 

“Don’t want her to think you’re too happy.” Spot suggested.

 

“I am sure to tell her how grumpy you are about everything. Whine is all Conlon does.” Jack playfully pretended to write down the phrase.

 

“You tell her we miss her?” Spot demanded.

 

“I tell her we’ll come back sooner than she knows.” Jack sighed, feeling guilty about his improving of the truth.

 

“Maybe all those dime novels were useful after all.” Spot yawned.

 

“We are going to be here for at least a few months.” Jack stated decisively.

 

“We will get to Santa Fe sooner than you know.” Spot chuckled as he closed his eyes. There was silence again between the two men but the light still danced. 

 

“Ask her to tell us about the wedding, and ask her if that idiot Matt has made sure Brooklyn is still the toughest.” Spot grumbled before flipping around to have his back to the light.  Not long after, the pencil scratching started and Spot found himself wishing Laces would be over her resentment enough to finally write them a proper response. 

 

Jack began writing about his encounter with the newsboy of Silver City from the day before. Glancing up every other sentence to lament the lack of a rooftop escape again. Never once guessing how much he had in common with the lady of society Audrey Alexander Kai. 

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Bottle Cap struck a match up against the brick wall of The Walden. His forehead rested against the stone as he cupped his hand over the match and cigarette. With a kick of his heel, Bottle Cap’s shoulders now rested where his forehead had been only seconds before. Puffing away at his cigarette, he rolled his dark eyes noticing the two figures beside him.

“Nice girls don’t let boys kiss them in the streets in broad daylight.” Cap spat the words out trying to discourage his kissing friends.

“And working boys usual work in the middle of the afternoon.” Slingshot grumbled a response back without surrendering the kissing.

“You’re here too. Fearless leader of Brooklyn, I’m sure Spot never once skipped out on selling to see a show.” Cam had pushed Slingshot away from her all of a sudden. A smile twitched at her lips but her eyes were reproaching both newsies for their bothersome comments.

“Oh he did.” Cap laughed flicking the cigarette in his fingers before handing it over to Slingshot.

“Did he?” Slingshot asked intrigued to find out imperfections of his godlike predecessor.  

“Not so much in the later years, but in the beginning. Actually we meet when he was coming out of a show. Him and Kelly both had a soft spot for the entertainment on cold afternoons.” Cap rubbed his hands together.

“You think Laces can get us some extra coats? This winter might get too cold for my coat…” Slingshot started. The end of September was proving chillier than the newsboys were use to in the past. Not to mention the young leader of Brooklyn was starting to stretch. The only jacket Slingshot Kai even owned was beginning to make him look ridiculous, as the cuffs were practically hugging his elbows.

“I’m sure the mighty Spot Conlon didn’t have a rich benefactor.” Cammie rolled her eyes as she pushed her cloaked shoulder into Matt for warmth.

“You’d be surprised.” Cap mumbled under his breath. Cap uncomfortably twitched to scratch his arm, over a coat that had been patched enough to survive the years it had spent with Spot Conlon.

“What was that?” Slingshot demanded of Cap. But Bottle Cap was well trained in the art of evasion and just shrugged and shook his head. A faint melody of whistles, soft and familiar came echoing down.

 

“A secret.” Bottle Cap sighed looking over at the back of oblivious Slingshot. Slingshot didn’t turn, didn’t tense, didn’t look up and definitely didn’t skip a beat in his step. The whistling still had little affect on the young man. If it had been up to Slingshot, the birds of Brooklyn would take to getting his attention in very overt way. He hated the signals and the clues, the whistling in particular seemed a rather cumbersome process to the young man. 

 

Bottle Cap shook his head but sucked at his teeth a moment listening to the faint twittering. It was the melody. The oldest of its kind and instantly Bottle Cap knew the news was about someone no longer in his world. Cap watched Slingshot trot along out of sight and the second in command suddenly let a wide grin overtake his face and a chuckle escape him. Cap ducked into one of the nearest building, appearing as if that had always been his planned destination. 

 

Only three flights of stairs up, Cap found a girl with vivid red curls pressed against a window covered in soot. She was curled into her chest and dramatically snored to ensure anyone who passed would believe her asleep. But Bottle Cap knew how to spot a Brooklyn Bird, even if they weren’t a familiar face. Maybe it was because the children spies of the city had an air about them, a streak of confidence that poured into the air around them. Or maybe it was how they always seem to carry a bit of the nest around with them, strings and bits hanging from their outfits in a way that was inexplicably bird like. Whatever the indicator was, Bottle Cap knew that the girl sitting on top of a barrel of strong scented moonshine had to be a bird. 

 

He clicked his tongue against his cheek making the tiniest noise he could imagine. The girl barely jumped; barely let her eyes open wider than a single edition of the afternoon Journal. Cap smiled and pressed his lips together letting out the words he had learned before learning how to shout a headline.

 

“I have a secret.” Cap provided quietly. The red curls burst with life, eyes popped open and a pink color suddenly flushed the girl’s high cheekbones.

 

“Doubt it’s something I don’t already know.” Firecracker snapped her fingers a few times before spitting on her thumb and cleaning off the dirt from her face. 

 

“See a lot sleeping up here on the third floor of this estate?” Cap mocked. He knew that she probably did, birds were strange creatures to Bottle Cap. 

 

“It ain’t just about what you can see, a lot is about what you can hear.” Firecracker winked and tilted her head to the right.

 

“Were you the one whistling for me?”

 

“I would think we were whistling for the leader of Brooklyn,” The mockery was subtle and respectable even, but Cap noticed the hint of absurdity that the bird used in her tone. 

 

“He didn’t hear it. Sooner or later he’ll get it.” Cap shrugged.

 

“Or he doesn’t care for this signal as much as you might?” Firecracker asked avoiding eye contact by fidgeting with a bit of rope that she started to expertly wrap around her hair. 

 

“Is it about Laces?” Cap frowned suspiciously. The old birds song was only used these days for news about Laces, Spot, Jack, Critter or any of the classic characters of the city tales. 

 

“There’s going to be a hatchling…” Firecracker giggled at her own wit.

 

“What?” Cap’s voice went up an octave and the steady ground suddenly moved underneath the boy. 

 

“Of the southern cricket variety.” Firecracker frowned at the Cap, not moving from her perch. Cap ran his hand across his face, as suddenly he understood Slingshot’s desire to ring a bird’s neck. Always talking in riddles, a bunch of mouths and smart responses.

 

“South then?”

 

Firecracker nodded. 

 

“And she’s taking it well?” Cap snapped impatiently.

 

“Southie’s got that glow of motherhood.” Firecracker grinned closing her eyes once again. She started scrunching down into her curled up position once again. 

 

“And Laces?” Cap growled.

 

“Tickled.” Firecracker yawned. The bird’s face was pressed against the soot again and Bottle Cap knew that the girl was done divulging any type of information at all. Cap swung one leg around the other and spun himself around, taking off in a sprint that was almost worthy of the birds.

 

It had been a conversation short enough to be in one of the flicker pictures Snipeshooter liked so much. With enough speed, Bottle Cap would be behind Slingshot and Cammie before his leader even noticed that he was gone. Not that the newsboy was hoping for lax skills of observation from his leader, he wanted Slingshot to be annoyed that Cap had disappeared. Annoyance meant Slingshot had noticed, that his attention was on high alert. Then maybe Bottle Cap could stop spending his every waking moment with the newest boy king. Matthew Kai had yet to learn to watch his own back as carefully as he should.

 

 Maybe it was the sound of stones turning into dirt, or the way Cap’s heel slip and sent his knee clumsily into a solid object with a thump. Whatever it was that gave away his presence, Slingshot reacted as only a leader of Brooklyn ever could. His hand at his back pocket and his aim ready to hit whoever was coming up behind him with enough force to burst at least enough blood vessels to develop a great shiner.

 

Slingshot was fast, instant almost but Cap had grown up in Brooklyn. Inhale the very paranoia that now pumped in Slingshot and his hands acted of their own accord. The marbles, two very good shooters, went to waste as they smacked into each other in the air and flung off in opposite directions off the Brooklyn Bridge.

 

“What’d they have to say?” Slingshot glared at Bottle Cap. Cap had one knee against the bridge, as if he had actually fallen and still managed to have perfect aim.

 

“Noticed then?” Cap rolled his eyes to annoyed about losing a shooter to be proud of Matt.

“Why is it that you talk to my birds more than I do?” Slingshot growled. On occasion the young leader of Brooklyn was struck by his relatively new status on the stage of the Brooklyn Empire. To prove his own importance, or strength, or something, Slingshot refused to help Cap back up to his feet instead crossing his arms and waiting for Bottle Cap to regain his own footing. Cammie tried to take a step forward to help the boy, her friend as much as Matt’s second in command but Slingshot merely held out her hand to stop her.

“If you could remember the code, than maybe they would come to you when you called. Or if you even bothered to check in with them once in a while…” Cap chastised as he clapped the gravel off his palm.

“The Brooklyn Birds were made to provide information to the leader of Brooklyn.” Slingshot stated.

“Not true, actually.” A voice from nowhere giggled.

“Do you all really need to do that? Hide in the shadows like a ghost in the old city…” Cammie jumped. Filly didn’t look over her shoulder but kept her eyes focused on the river below. She would not engage in an actual conversation with the leader of Brooklyn, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t point out how grossly misinformed he was. 

“What’d you mean not exactly?” Slingshot demanded. In the five months since Spot Conlon had been gone, Slingshot had taken time to learn the usual perches of the well-informed birds. Filly Ingles, a silent slightly awkward type with hair that eerily matched the colors of the ropes of the Brooklyn Bridge always sat somewhere on the connection to Manhattan. Filly never made eye contact and rarely divulged information without sarcastic remarks to bite into Slingshot’s confidence. But Bottle Cap had assured the hotheaded leader of Brooklyn that hitting the girl would do him no good. 

“Ah Matthew Kai, the world does not revolve around you… much like it didn’t really revolve around Conlon himself.” Filly puffed at a cigarette, covering her own face with smoke and crystallized breathing in the cold.

“Filly, shush up!” Another voice commanded.

“He should know…” Filly kicked at the stair step beneath her harshly.

“I’m going to tell Jasper…” A male voice squeaked. Cammie was the only one of the trio that tried to locate the last voice, the male voice. It was pointless; birds were either completely in your way or basically invisible.

“What do you mean?” Slingshot demanded.

“Jasper ain’t half as bad as Critter…” Filly sighed.

“Jasper ain’t half as bad as me!” Slingshot tapped his slingshot impatiently on the back of Filly’s head.

“Don’t anger the bird,” Cap hissed as he whacked his leader’s hand out of the air.  

“I’m tried of this leader game. It’s going to get colder…” Cammie snuggled more into Slingshot.

“Walk your girl home, try not to get soaked on the way.” Cap grumbled as he shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking. The trio walked the length of the bridge in a silence that was familiar, comfortable as the cold of the fall settled around them and darkness started creeping into the sky.

“Don’t try to see her.” Slingshot warned before they parted. The trio spilt as the bridge dumped them into a busy street in Manhattan. A few carriages were strolling along quickly as the white droplets of rain fell from the sky. One newsboy, Gamble stood at the farthest street corner bouncing on the heels of his feet as he attempted to discard the rest of his newspapers for the day. Cap didn’t bid farewell to his leader or his leader’s girl, instead he purposefully walked away from the young crowned prince of Brooklyn. It was a habit of Cap and Slingshot never to say farewell to each other, a habit that ensured that anyone that was watching or listening would realize that the boys were anything but sentimental. But more importantly to Cap, not saying farewell ensured that they would indeed have to see each other again. Cap had heard enough final farewells, to dislike the idea of good-byes at all even in death.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

October 1902

 

“Let’s go! The presses are rolling!” Kloppman’s ancient voice never tired of the same phrases. Every morning, though the bunks might be littered with newer and younger faces, the song remained the same. The old man carried his weight heavily upon the wooden floors partially due to age and partially on purpose to wake the slumbering children.  

“Let’s go! Sand!” He hollered passing by the sandy haired boy. He smacked the bare foot covered in soot at the end of the bed, sending the young man into a sitting position.  

“I didn’t do it!” Sand shouted. Kloppman smiled. The song remained very much the same. Newsboys were forever carrying guilt, forever prepared to defend their innocence even in their sleep.

“Didn’t do what, selling papers? Time to get up Sand.” The old man urged the boy to get out of bed. Rubbing the sleep out of his ocean blue eyes forcefully the boy jumped down from his bunk in a swift movement. Sand trotted past several bunks only stopping at the bunk located in almost dead center of the room. He stretched out his arms far above his head, letting his body prepare before he climbed up to the top bunk. Holding his body up by wrapping his entire arm around the post, Sand used his other hand, clenched in a fist to bump against a sleeping Snipeshooter’s shoulder. A set of curls grated against the pillow in agitation before a freckled nose turned to face the punching culprit.

“Whatdoyouwant?” A slur of words came out of Snipeshooter’s mouth. Sand smiled running his tongue over his dry lips before speaking.

“We got some headlines about crooked politicians today.” Sand laughed.  The younger boy was mocking his leader, for Snipeshooter was notorious for hating headlines about politics at all these days.

“That ain’t a headline.” Snipes grumbled and tried to turn back around.

“Headlines don’t sell papes.” Boots grumbled as he walked past the two towards the washroom.

“Newsies sell papes. Damn it. Kelly haunts me even in my sleep.” Snipes grumbled. He grudgingly swung his legs over the side of his bunk. Sand released the bedpost and let his body drop down with a loud thud. If it hadn’t become routine for the little boy to climb up to wake Snipes, the drop would have shocked the bottom of his bare feet more but his small body had become accustom to the harsh landing.

“Maybe cause you’re sleeping in his bunk?” Tumbler suggested walking out of the washroom snapping at his suspenders.

“It ain’t his bunk anymore. It’s mine.” Snipes snapped at the chipper newsie. Tumbler shrugged an apology to Sand.

“I’m not saying it’s cause you ain’t the leader of Manhattan. Just maybe cause his spirits in the bed somehow? I was reading this real scary tale yesterday about ghosts…” Tumbler started trying to defend himself.

“Shut up.” Two-Bit shoved his hand into the other boy’s black hair playfully. Two-bit placed a cigarette at the edge of his mouth before placing his hat strategically upon his head.

Snipeshooter had wandered into the washroom already in a half dazed sleep completely ignoring the morning banter of his newsies around him. He washed and dressed in a completely daze to his actions and surroundings. Not until he had stepped out into the morning sunshine and chilly winter air did he truly wake.

The Manhattan newsies still took the same path to the selling docks every morning that their predecessors had taken. Snipes kicked at the mud underneath his worn out shoes as they walked past the brick walls that were the background to his existence for so many years. He was moody and hungry and the cold was not making it any better. Sand followed his leader like a shadow, never moving more than two steps away. The younger and shorter boy was alert and full of energy the perfect compliment to the hunched over disengaged morning person that Snipes tended to be.  The nuns weren’t out this morning likely because of the rain the night before, so Sand knew that it would be at least another few blocks before Snipes got into a better mood. The newsies would snatch various objects off the delivery wagons this morning. Something they hadn’t often done under the direction of Jack Kelly but times had changed. 

Not that Jack hadn’t been a thief, he had been. Jack Kelly had been a good thief and a great liar, but his intentions were never anything but good and his loyalty won over each and every person that came across his path. Also just because he had been those things, didn’t mean that he had ever encouraged or even allowed his boys to be thieves or liars. Snipes was still young, still inexperienced and still didn’t care enough in the morning to be the leader that Jack Kelly had been before him. But, one day he might grow into the shoes that had been left for him to fill.

Fighting, the struggle to prove themselves and the bitterness of an early winter this year had made the Manhattan newsies a little less jovial than they had been previously. It was a cycle, though the boys themselves were unaware, times of prosperity often came before and after times of struggle. Snipeshooter might never realize that Jack Kelly had also struggled to be noticed and to matter in a world where who you were could save your life and earn you an extra penny.

A quiet had taken hold of the city, a silence that quivered with warning. No one was picketing, no one was campaigning, and no one was saving souls. The newsies barely made it out to scout headlines and even at that most were only selling twenty of each edition. But the quiet suited Snipeshooter just fine, gave him time to recover from the fights that secured his place as a leader. The silence of the city gave Snipes time to feel like maybe, maybe Jack Kelly would stay gone long enough for everything to go back to normal. Though the young leader was never sure what his desire for normal really meant anymore.

Arriving at Horace Greeley Square, Les Jacobs appeared in the square wearing a blue shirt that had once been David’s and a grin of reckless abandoned that was less Jacobs and more Kelly. Les no longer carried a wooden sword or hid in the shadows of his older and wiser big brother. He had grown taller and lost the innocence from his face just as Snipeshooter had. The two boys had once equally idolized Jack Kelly and equally detested the fact that they missed the old newsboys leader. It was a weekday and Les Jacobs’ should be in school during the morning edition, but none of the boys were surprised to see the youngest Jacobs. In the last weeks, Les had started skipping out on lessons in favor of making a few extra cents during the day. Not everyday, but everyone knew it would only be a matter of time before little Les wouldn’t ever go back to lessons and books.

 

Les quietly walked up to stand near Snipeshooter at the selling gates. He pulled out a piece of bread and handed it over quietly knowing full well that the leader of Manhattan wouldn’t speak before eating something. Snipeshooter grunted and nodded thanks as he ripped the roll in half and handed it to Sand.

“The headlines are weak again. Stupid storm.” Grumbled a newer newsie named Humble.

“Headlines don’t sell papes.” Les preached to the younger boy. Snipeshooter shot him a murderous glare and Sand leaned over to whisper.

“He’s a little touchy about Jack this morning.” He warned.

“He don’t even know who Jack is…” Les argued. He jutted out his chin before speaking to Humble again. “You know who Jack Kelly is?”  

“Ain’t he the one that rode around this square with Teddy Roosevelt after the strike? He was one of the strike leaders wasn’t he?” Humble’s face brightened with the enthusiasm of the story.

Sand laughed a bit and winked at the boy before waving his hand to signal the kid should scatter. Snipeshooter glared at Les, who was shrugging apologetically.

“All right, so maybe it’s too soon for no one to know who he was. Want to hear how they’re doing? We can’t do anything about you not being Jack Kelly anyway. I mean if you really think about it Jack Kelly was barely Jack Kelly, his real name being Francis Sullivan and all…”

“Just tell us what Mouth wrote you, I think we should call you Mouth from now on.” Snipeshooter rolled his eyes.  

“That was what they called Dave though!” Les snapped indignant. Everyone had a shadow to get out from under. 

“He’s right there Snipes, we should really call him something different. I mean you want to be different don’t you?” Sand nodded vigorously.

Somewhere from inside the selling docks they could hear the bells and the announcement that it was time for selling. The trio moved towards the docks in a fluid movement of a group that spent too much time together. Les having never lost his childish vigor for speaking up quickly gave updates about the old leaders. 

 

Out of the three newsboys, only Les dared to purchase 50 papers to sell for the morning. Having learned everything from Jack Kelly himself, Les Jacobs was one of the best newsboys on the Manhattan side of the East River. The three boys walked out of the selling docks, Les still excitedly telling them whatever western adventure David had written about.

 

“Corpse found by the train yards!” Les shouted, joining the array of voices.

 

“A corpse?” A young man asked excitedly stepping off the sidewalk, in a blatant disregard for his suit and the mud of the streets. Les nodded vigorously keeping a serious set to his mouth and holding out the folded paper to the businessman.

 

“That’s a good headline.” The young man smiled brightly and the words echoed back in Les’ mind as familiar.

 

“A good story mister,” Les nodded pushing out the paper further to the man.

 

“A good story, she would like that then…” The young man dug out a nickel from his jacket pocket. He took the paper from the boy before dropping the glittering coin into his outstretched hand.

 

“I ain’t got any change yet Mister, you’re my first pape…” Les began to explain. 

 

“No. No, no, keep the change boy.” The tall gentleman winked mischievously as if Les had made his entire day by selling him an overpriced paper. Suddenly Les felt guilty for improving the headline the man seemed so interested in.

 

“Thanks.” He said quickly before his conscience decided to kick in too much. He turned back to his companions and the man folded the paper into his jacket and out of sight. As if it wasn’t even a morning paper he had purchased for himself.  

 

“Corpse huh?” Snipeshooter asked as he was reading well into the middle of one of his own papers. 

 

“It said one dead.” Les nodded.

 

“A dog was dead.” Sand laughed.

 

“That’s a corpse, ain’t it?” Les shrugged.

 

“Come on let’s go down to central park today.” Snipeshooter suggested leading the way.

 

“You know, Dave asked about Laces… I don’t know what to tell them. I haven’t seen her in at least a month.” Les looked to Snipeshooter and Sand hopefully. Both boys shrugged and shook their heads. The boys of Manhattan liked Laces well enough but they no longer had a vested interest in her like Jack and the others once had. The emotional attachment only existed for Brooklyn now who still lived and fought for their precious gal. Laces was no longer the key between Brooklyn and Manhattan, she no longer possessed anything that fancied the mellower borough of the two. Even their third ally, Decker from the Bronx had more of an investment with Laces than the boys of Horace Greeley Square did these days.  

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Afternoon dresses were one of the things Audrey Alexandra Kai was adding to her list of items in society to despise. She hooked her finger into the high collar that pressed up against her chin, trying desperately to be freed of the restricting annoyance. But no matter the strength Audrey put behind the tugging, the collar of the dress refused to stretch beyond the choking embrace. Blowing a frustrated breath over her own face, the young lady plopped with little manners and less delicacy onto one of the many steps of the grand staircase of the Longfellow estate. She swept up her skirts and easily started to undo her kid boots. If she couldn’t escape one fashion prison, Audrey was determined to escape another.

 

Being barefoot had become the latest indulgence of Miss Audrey Alexandra Kai, a freedom unlike any she had previously experienced. On the streets, in her beloved life as a newsies, Laces had never once been able to travel barefoot outside of the bunkroom in the lodging houses. Shoes had provided invaluable protection, security, and misunderstood luxury among the poorest of the poor in the life of carrying the banner. But inside the rich surroundings of Fifth Avenue, where floors were covered in nothing but riches from plush Turkish rugs to smooth marble stones bare feet were never in danger of anything but pure delight.

 

With the slip of a hand, only familiar to the pickpockets of New York City, Audrey suddenly had a folded piece of paper in her hands. Practically floating away from her abandoned boots, Audrey let her hands trace the folds of the unopened letter in her hands. She studied the colors of the heavy yellow paper, the streaks of unfamiliar dirt and the circular pattern of what appeared to be a thumbprint. She turned it in her hands, slowly at first and then faster, searching for the shades of gray and black that were so instinctually normal for Jack Kelly. But there was no trace of a newsboy on the folded paper; the folded paper was nothing like a newspaper, nothing like Jack Kelly. A stranger in disguise of something known for Audrey had recognized the slanted handwriting of Jack Kelly on the envelope addressed to Laces, for a second she had been convinced of familiarity. But the letter was nothing like a newspaper. It was nothing like everything she had once associated with Jack.

 

She turned it over in her hands a few more times, memorizing the way that Jack had folded it enough to imagine his hands delicately working over the creases. Standing at the bottom of the staircase, completely enthralled by the folded letter, Audrey began to carefully pull the letter open. A second piece of paper tumbled out of her hands as her fingers pulled down the last crease. Two whole pages of cramped writing, beautiful words colorfully weaving tales of adventure hiding the desperation of Jack Kelly begging Audrey to respond of Laces to remember.  She ducked down to pick up the second page, letting her fingers dance around the edges of the paper as she studied the ugly yellow of the paper against the brightness of the white floor. 

 

A knock at the door startled Audrey out of her reverence. She quickly snatched her letter from the floor and folded the papers back up perfectly without a pause. Without a thought to rules of society or proper manners, she opened the front door. 

 

“Miss Audrey,” A curiously amused voice greeted the young lady.  Audrey blinked at the brightness of the afternoon sky, so unexpectedly attacking her eyes. A shade fell over her eyes and suddenly the young woman concentrated on the light blue shirt in front of her, under the fashionable gray afternoon coat. Upturning her face only centimeters, Audrey found the silent chuckling face of Jacob Henry Canterbury.  Before any sense of propriety or appropriateness could settle in Audrey, the girl had flung her arms around the boy standing in front of her. 

 

“Audrey,” Jacob laughingly chastised as he carefully pushed her back into the mansion and himself off the highly visible steps off Fifth Avenue.  At the push and the familiar voice of Jacob, Audrey seemed to remember her place and released him while stepping back a safe and proper distance from the young man.

 

“Miss Audrey, you didn’t answer the door?” Nancy hurried past the two and closed the door. 

 

“There was a knock.” Audrey tilted her head curiously at her guest. Jacob smiled brightly, his dark eyes twinkling with their familiar mischief.

 

“She knew it was me.” He provided to the maid playfully.

 

“Miss Audrey, if Mrs. Casey…” Nancy fretted for only a second before remembering the door had been open to company.  “…Sir?” 

 

“Sir Jacob Henry Canterbury, a dear friend of Miss Audrey’s from the shore.” The boy flashed a foolish grin at the maid.

 

“Tea, we should have tea…” Audrey stated unsure.  She still clutched her folded letter in one hand.

 

“Yes, please follow me.” Nancy turned to lead the young people into a parlor. Jacob held out his arm and Audrey instantly tucked her hand around it. Remembering her letter, she worked to tuck the papers underneath the sleeve encasing her right wrist so tightly.

 

“What’s that?” Jacob whispered as he watched her try to force the bulk under the fabric. 

 

“Nothing.” Audrey shook her head, allowing a fake smile of confidence to appear upon her confused face. Jacob recognized the smile, the practiced response of any lady in his society to an uncomfortable question. He frowned at the unnatural way the expression rested on Audrey’s face. But the young man was as well trained as his partner, if not better trained, and so he focused on anything but the paper still forcing it’s way into hiding.

 

“Are you barefoot?” Jacob laughed as he caught sight of Audrey’s stockings as she walked alongside him.  Nancy spun around in alarm to confirm what Jacob had laughingly suggested. 

 

“Miss Audrey!” She exclaimed.

 

“Nancy,” Audrey mimicked back before adding, “I left them on the stairs.”

 

“I’m not one for formalities, Nancy.” Jacob winked at the maid and Nancy couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s boldness.

 

“I shall go fetch some tea, and your boots.” Nancy sighed but as she walked out she whispered urgently to Audrey. “Do try to behave.” 

 

The door closed softly behind them before Jacob spoke again.

 

“How many people tell you to behave?” He wondered out loud as Audrey dropped his arm. Audrey shrugged and turned to stare at the young man now standing in the parlor with a frown.

 

“What are you doing in New York?” She demanded crossing her arms. Jacob chuckled again trying not to obviously study how the light of the late afternoon glittered around the young lady’s delicate figure.

 

“Now you can’t fib and say you aren’t happy to see me.” Jacob winked at her remembering the socially unacceptable hug.

 

“You didn’t tell me you were coming in your last letter…” She reproached walking away from him to settle into a protective perch atop the back of the loveseat. After parting ways on the summer shore, Jacob Canterbury had waited exactly one week before sending his first letter from the library of Yale University to his newest friend. Since the first letter, the two young people hadn’t been able to stop writing.

 

“Didn’t know when I wrote last. Father couldn’t make it out to the city to take care of some business, had me come down from school instead.” Jacob explained apologetically.

 

“Or you are merely playing hooky and have fabricated some story to defend your wayward choices.” Audrey smiled at him.

 

“Not all of us are as unable to behave properly.” Jacob smirked as he walked across the room to lounge upon the French desk near the window. Audrey watched as the young man tucked his hand into his coat, thinking he would be pulling out his pocket watch momentarily. She had learned Jacob Henry had a nervous habit of playing with his fancy gold pocket watch. A twitch that reminded her of how Spot always lit a cigarette and Jack forever tugged at the ratty old string of his cowboy hat. All boys had their habits, rich or poor, energy had to be contained. But Jacob didn’t pull out his watch but instead he pulled out a half folded morning edition of The World.

 

“The little waif that sold me this…” Jacob began but didn’t finish his sentence before Audrey interrupted him. 

 

“Don’t call them waifs.” She demanded angrily, protectively. Jacob quirked an eyebrow at the outburst confused yet again but instantly reacted to the annoyance.

 

“Well, they are waifs. Most of them…” Jacob explained confused. 

 

“Are you a reformer now? Parading around pointing at all their defects instead of helping the kids of the street?” Audrey’s dark brown eyes burned into the young man, her words stinging with their serious accusations. 

 

“You are truly an extraordinary young lady,” Jacob laughed holding up his hands. He had never known anyone else, man or woman in his tiny circle of the elite socialites that cared beyond talking about the working class. “…Not waifs then, the newsboy?” 

 

Audrey nodded a satisfied smirk playing on her lips.

 

“The newsboy who sold me this paper assured me of the headline being a good story…” Jacob started pulling the paper open and flipped through the pages. “… Something about a nude corpse on the train tracks.” 

 

Audrey started giggling at the confused look on Jacob’s face as he searched the paper for the selling headline. Few businessmen ever remembered the headline that sold them on their morning paper enough to remember a street kid had swindled them. But Jacob wasn’t much like most businessmen. She slipped down from her perch and strode across the parlor with her hands out stretched for the paper.

 

“A good story…” Audrey slipped her hands expertly over the pages and Jacob surrendered the newspaper with a smile.  Jacob had learned quickly through Audrey’s letters of the young lady’s quirky delight in New York’s newspapers. He soon realized she actually read the papers, when she managed to procure a copy.

 

“Are you going to find the imaginary headline?” Jacob challenged. But Audrey wasn’t paying any attention to the boy any longer, instead her fingers pressed against the ink lovingly as her eyes flittered across the pages.

 

“Here it is, page 9.” Audrey smiled triumphantly as she held out the paper underneath Jacob’s nose. 

 

“Found dead dog near trolley track… No, no. The boy must have been talking about some other headline.” Jacob shook his head.

 

“I doubt it.” Audrey winked, pulling the newspaper back into her own bosom. She knew without Jacob explaining that he had brought her the newspaper. He had been intrigued by Audrey’s love for newspapers and in his last letter had pushed for her to explain the dynamics of a good headline. He never dared asked how the young lady knew the information, knowing Audrey would never reveal it. 

 

“Miss Elizabeth Samson wrote to Emma that you were ill…” Jacob stated nonchalantly as he reached out to rest his hand on her wrist. 

 

“Miss Emma Canterbury wrote to Elizabeth that you might gallivant off to Europe for the winter.” Audrey shrugged back still only staring at her newspaper. 

 

For all of their ignoring of social graces, Audrey and Jacob still maintained a degree of secrecy in their communications. Both playing what outsiders would perceive as usual standards of courting between a young woman and young man. But in reality, Jacob had learned not to bore Audrey and Audrey had learned to protect herself by never sharing with Jacob.  The two had settled onto the sofa, allowing their shoulders to touch as Audrey still read the paper and Jacob began clicking his pocket watch open and closed.

 

A soft knock alerted the young people to the arrival of Nancy. The maid entered pushing a teacart and looking oddly out of place with a pair of kid boots tied over her shoulder. 

 

“Mrs. McCain is just about done with her visit.” Nancy warned. The maid settled down on her knee to slip Audrey’s boots back on. 

 

“How long are you staying in the city?” Audrey asked, finally refolding the newspaper and tucking it underneath the book on the table in front of them.

 

“Until my 9 o’clock train this evening. Have to get back to school… But, I am going to be coming into the city more often.” Jacob winked at her happily.

 

“For your father’s business?”

 

“Yes, I am coming to an end of my formal education.” Jacob nodded as he bent down to help Nancy tie up the boots. Nancy tried to keep the boy from helping, but it was futile as the maid gave up tying the shoes back up at all. 

 

“And do you learn to tie kid boots up at the fancy university?” Audrey snickered at the boy bent over her knee.

 

“No, but I would imagine it’s a skill taught at most finishing schools. Didn’t you ever attend finishing school Miss Audrey?” Jacob mocked.

 

Audrey laughed as she noticed that Jacob Henry Canterbury had clumsy hands when compared to Thomas Longfellow or even Christopher O’Connell. Jacob was not a man who had learned how to lace up boots in the shadows of a secret life as a child spy.

 

“I could tie my own boots, I did untie them. Sir.” Audrey pointed out. Jacob shook his head as he straightened back up accepting the cup of tea from Nancy. It had not escaped the young man’s notice that Miss Audrey had laughed away yet another personal question concerning her mysterious past. 

 

“Were you ill long?” Jacob ventured to ask as he promptly focused his attention on the window across the room. He knew Audrey wouldn’t answer this question anymore than she would admit attendance to a finishing school.

 

“Where will you go in Europe?” Audrey snapped back. A hint of hurt and desperation coloring her tone in a way that made Jacob swing his head back around to stare at her.

 

“Maybe, I will put it wait until the summer. I hear the weather is much more enjoyable then?” Jacob lingered on the question. Mrs. Canterbury had suggested, as had all the ladies of the shore, that Audrey Alexandra Kai had been raised somewhere in Europe by some distant family but no one ever knew where or by whom.

 

“Didn’t you go on a tour of England and France before going to Yale?” Audrey jumped to her feet, as if an electric shock had flung her into action. Jacob frowned. It had been almost five weeks, a little over a month since he had seen Audrey and she appeared to be out of sorts with his presence. He knew from the way she rubbed her right wrist with her thumb that she was distracted by whatever letter she had tucked into her sleeve. But she could not deny her excitement to see him, as her hug had proved nothing but sheer delight. Nonetheless, she was being disturbingly formal and aloof compared to her usual self. 

 

Jacob bit down on his lower lip and sucked the honey sticking to the inside of his teacup. He nodded his response to Audrey’s question of his previous tour of Europe as he thought about how to put the girl at ease again. The sound of horse hooves pounding against the cobbled streets outside sparked inspiration as he popped half a smile and dropped his teacup onto the table on top of the newspaper. 

 

“Have you seen the new horseless carriages?” He asked as he confidently strutted towards the window.

 

“Yes, a few. Near the shops that Casey likes to frequent.”

 

“My pal Frank, Franklin Escher from Brooklyn… maybe you know him? He is in my class at Yale… well his pop got one of those horseless carriages and we’ve been talking about riding around in it one of these weekends.” Jacob rambled like an excited schoolboy, which was what he actually was at the moment.

 

“What kind is it?” Audrey asked intrigued. Jacob smiled widely, letting dimples form in his well rounded cheeks. 

 

“A Thomas Touring, real beauty from what Frank tells me.”

 

“And he’s going to let a fool like you have a go at it?” Audrey mocked the light of amusement so familiar to Jacob reigniting in her eyes. 

 

“I’m sure, I could convince Frank to let a troublesome young lady like you to have a go at it too…” Jacob pressed his finger to chin pretending to think the idea over.

 

“If it proves to be like horse riding, I might put money on my driving it better than you.” Audrey smiled. 

 

“You talked that horse against me!” Jacob complained.

 

“I did no such thing, besides why would I spend my time talking to a horse when you never went away…” 

 

“… You have bewitching ways about you Miss Audrey…”

 

“Or you just can not ride a horse.” Audrey suggested more realistically.  Jacob pulled at his pocket watch, trying to ignore the nagging feeling of time slipping away as the light outside diminished into darkness. Finally as the laughter died out in both of them, he clicked his timepiece open.

 

“You’ll be back soon?” Audrey barely spoke at a whisper.

 

“Maybe in a horseless carriage. You’ll write?” Jacob reached out to retrieve the paper he had brought.

 

“Isn’t it my pape…r?” Audrey forced herself to add the last letter of the word.

 

“What if I hadn’t finished it?” Jacob questioned.

 

“Learn to read faster college man.” Audrey shrugged as she snatched the paper back from his hands. Jacob laughed as he began leaving the room, without any more dismissal or farewell.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

She could feel her own nails digging deep into her palms as she focused all of her energy on breathing naturally. Even with her attention completely fixated on the one patch of the stage where she could see the shadow of a stagehand, Laces could feel all the wandering eyes on her.

 

The Opera was about being seen, a place to establish notoriety amongst the rich and even richer.  Audrey Kai was posed perfectly in a balcony sitting close enough to the edge as if she were a display at one of the shops on Ladies Mile. For a young lady that had spent her life learning how to disappear from sight and dissolve into the shadows of others, being so highly visible was torture. It wasn’t that she wasn’t use to being watched, there was always a bird watching even now when she wore more silk than dirt but the stares of society were different. Audrey had learned a Brooklyn bird was a harmless observer while a society member was a vicious predator.

 

She sat for the first twenty minutes of the performance, perfectly still with a delicate half smile plastered to her face and her eyes remaining popped open. Twenty minutes when she was sure she would rip off the skin on the inside of both her hands. It was forty minutes before she began taking shorter breaths inducing a barely visible panting followed by a slight shaking of her tense shoulders.

 

“Go on, do try not to draw attention to yourself.” Thomas Longfellow whispered her release. Audrey controlled the urge to jump out of her seat as she slowly rose and stiffly turned away from the bright lights and unblinking eyes. She took a step for every three heartbeats making an effort to walk out gracefully, quietly, unnoticed. Once outside the Opera box, she kept her eyes down and drew her arms into her torso trying to make herself smaller in the vastness of the Opera House. Her feet guided her to the wall, to the edge of the hall that lead her out into the darkness of the night.

 

It wasn’t until Audrey stepped out into the cool night air and felt the night embrace her gray evening gown that she closed her own eyes. The chill of the night air didn’t take long to settle onto her warm skin before she realized she hadn’t collected her coat before exiting her gilded cage. But nothing, not even the night air would compel Audrey to step back inside to become the object of such scrutiny again. Instead the young lady of society began to walk, stroll at a pace unbecoming to any other young lady of her social standing but rather agreeable to Laces.

 

As she walked, she pulled at the fashionable puff sleeves that reached her elbow and with each tug a piece of paper appeared in her hand. For days, Audrey had been carrying around her letter from Jack Kelly with her everywhere she went. She had read the scratched out words so many times she could recite them from memory. The ink was starting to fade and the smell of the west had long since turned into the perfumed mixture Nancy often used in the wash.

 

“Reading something interesting?” Les Jacobs asked nonchalantly. The newsboy stood just within arms reach of her, leaning against a lamppost in a familiar stance with newspapers tucked under one arm and a cigarette burning down between his lips.

 

“Something about a cowboy out west.” Audrey smiled. As she looked up she caught the way the Les wrinkled his cheeks into a familiar grin, so much like his brother and sister.

 

“Cowboys only exist in dime novels and penny comics.” Les pressed his fingers over the last embers of his cigarette before throwing it down. Laces’ smile twitched slightly distressed by the roughness of Les’ voice but her eyes caught sight of the stack of newspapers. 

 

“Why aren’t you shouting headlines?” She demanded.

 

“Waiting for the shows to get out, best spot just down the street in about an hour. Didn’t you ever sell with Jack on Saturday nights?” Les asked quirking an eyebrow in surprise. Laces shook her head and noticed the nervous anticipation in the boy as he pushed his palm against his forehead and ran his fingers through his shaggy hair. It was strange how Les Jacobs had become such a product of the two older boys he had considered his brothers. The dimples and the smile, even the shirt were all hints of David. But the long shaggy hair and nervous anticipation to peddle papers echoed of Jack. 

 

“No. I think Jack preferred selling with you until you stopped looking seven. And then, well and then he liked selling alone without distraction for his big editions.” Laces explained as she stared at the papers in her hand. Her eyes focused on the cramped handwriting towards the bottom of the second page, clear words she could almost hear Jack laughing.

 

This kid doesn’t even shout his headline, so I tell him I won’t buy a pape unless… 

 

She laughs as she reads his words, hears his annoyance at the lack of pride in the trade he had made his entire life out of thus far.  Jack Kelly had taught most of Manhattan how to sell newspapers and cleverly made a profit from anyone under ten.

 

“You haven’t written them back.” Les sighed. There was no reproach in his voice, just an observation like his older brother would make. The Jacobs brothers were raised with a sister and knew better than to accuse or poke at an emotional girl. 

 

“You write to tell David you’ve been skipping school?” She shot back at him. The newsboy let a scowl flash across his face before shaking his head.

 

“Nope, but at least I write to them.” Les spat back, his upbringing surrendering to his natural quick temper. “He asks about you, asks me if I’ve seen you…”

“He is the one who left.” Laces responded angrily.

 

“I suspect Jack Kelly was always meant to leave New York.” The subtle sullen voice of Skittery sunk into the air around Laces like a familiar blanket. She let her fingers curl back into her palm, settling her nails into the indents of her skin.

 

“He stayed for Sarah.” Audrey whispered. The young lady stood glaring at Les, or rather past him at some figment of a memory while ignoring the present memories around her.

 

“He stayed for all of us.” Les frowned as he nervously shifted his weight. 

 

A shiver hit Laces with such a force that her entire body shook and goose bumps danced along her arms naturally. For a moment, the illusion of her silk dress and elegant hair do fit the bout of cold that struck her but then the shadow of her reality settled because Laces had been colder than this. Skittery had stepped forward at Les words, anticipating her reaction and wrapping his arms around her waist as if his instinct was an involuntary reaction to her discomfort.

 

“Kelly was always a dreamer, he hoped you’d come back.” Skittery murmured the words into her ear, calming the slight shaking disguised as shivers. In a quick step previously used only to escape foolishly aimed walking sticks, toy swords, flying pillows or open palms Skittery slid Laces behind him letting his hand slip into hers. 

 

“I best head off before some scab steals my spot up near the lights and glitter. You know all them theater goers, suckers for a sweet face…” Les shrugged anxious again. 

 

“You got another face?” Skittery mocked.

 

Les rolled his eyes as he swung his leg out dramatically. Skittery flipped a nickel up into the air. The coin barely tumbled twice before Les held it tightly in his right hand. 

 

“Two?” He asked excitedly. Skittery just nodded.  The newsboy curled the two papers up in the way he had often folded his “last papers” as a child.

 

“Make sure no one follows us?” Skittery asked with only a hint of command. Les winked his agreement before laying his eyes back on the now quiet Audrey.

 

“You’ll like the story on page 8.” He winked before sauntering away, five cents richer.  As Les escaped into the shadows and recess of the avenue of lights, Skittery guided Audrey carefully down a wide alley.

 

“Did Critter send you out to get me?”

 

Skittery didn’t bother to answer the question. He knew she knew the answer. Audrey still clutched the letter from Jack to her chest, as she let Skittery pull her along to the little Hudson Theater. 

There was a single door with cracking pale blue paint nestled in the side of a brick building. The door appeared unimportant, almost unworthy of note except for the worn shoelace dangling from a cooked nail and tied to a single gray feather. It was in front of the door that Skittery paused in his guidance.

 

It was in the familiar partial darkness, creeping odor of garage and seeping sense of hardship that Audrey actually looked at Skittery. She noticed immediately the sudden emergence of facial hair on the once smooth youthful face. Reaching out with the hand still clutching her letter, Audrey tried to confirm the change. But Skittery caught her hand and twisted her wrist around to allow him to study the cramped writing of a certain Jack Kelly.

 

“What are you waiting for?’ He asked.

 

“For you to open the door, I suppose.” Audrey responded smartly. She didn’t fight for Skittery to release her hand, but merely stood still enough for him to read the letter.

 

“I doubt you don’t have anything to say.” Skittery sighed. No matter how familiar the setting, the world had changed between Laces and Skittery.

 

“There is not a feather on any of the other doors.” Laces replied, starring past the man to the door behind him. Skittery rolled his eyes and dropped her hand. An agitated whistle, low and gravelly as if the sound was pushed through the clenched teeth and only through the tiniest crack at the edge of a pair of lips, screeched through the alleyway.  The sound almost hissed, get out of the alley fools. Almost. 

 

The door swung open and then words were actually growled.

 

“Get her inside.”

 

A hand settled into the nook of her back, shoving ever so lightly but enough to make the young lady move. She swayed forward and clicked the bottom of her slippers clacked against the tiny step. The swiftness of the movement left Audrey confused about if she had always intended to obey the growl. Strong arms caught her as she stepped inside and she didn’t need to look up to know the rough touch was Critter O’Connell. 

 

“Audrey,” He sighed in an unfamiliar gentle whisper. Before any more words were said, between the door closing and the gas lamp being turned up, Audrey was wrapped in a heavy coat.

 

“Not cold.” She muttered. She still wasn’t looking up, instead focusing on working to get her letter buried deep into her fancy dress.

 

“You look like you could be.” Critter replied. His arm was now wrapped around her shoulders and Audrey finally looked up to realize the man had shrugged out of his own coat.

“Were you outside?” She wondered out loud. It was not cold inside under brilliant stage lamps, leaving the only conclusion to be that the man had been outside recently.  Critter ignored her question as he guided her around sandbags and half built sets. Skittery was at their heels, unable to walk as quietly as the legendry bird or unwilling to exert the effort.

 

The Hudson Theater shimmered with warmth and anonymity a stark contrast to the Opera House Audrey had escaped. The young lady was being pushed along so quickly she couldn’t see any of the audience or hear any of the performance.

 

“You were alerted the moment I stepped outside?” Audrey guessed quietly as Skittery ducked forward and unlocked an office door. Critter scoffed quietly as he stretched out to flicker on a gas lamp precariously balanced on a stalk of books.

 

“You leave that on, it’s none to warm up here.” Critter commanded. Laces had started to try to tug the heavy coat off her shoulders but stopped at the brisk tone. Instead, she began to study the small office around her. 

 

There were two desks, pushed against opposite walls of the tiny room. One significantly messier than the other, with weeks old newspapers and an old newsboy cap stuffed amongst a large leather bound book and a dusty skull. Dropping her eyes down to the floor, she noticed the extra pair of boots tucked under the neater desk and a basket overflowing with bits and ends of feathers and yarn.

 

“Got you a pape.” Skittery handed over his second World Evening edition. Neither hand was sitting in the tiny office, instead hovering in the small space imposing their presence on the furniture and Audrey.

 

“Audrey,” Critter nodded at the empty chair in front of the cleaner desk.

 

“Keeping me out of trouble until the dreadful Opera is over?” She snapped at the man, before bending to his order. 

 

Critter smiled as he opened his paper, again not answering a question he knew Laces only asked to interrupt the quiet she so hated. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, though he knew about every social activity she had partaken in. The man studied her out of the corner of his eye, as he read his newspaper. He was waiting for her to question him further, but she seemed content studying the office. It did not escape Laces that Critter settled down to read his paper, slightly perched on his own desk next to her, effectively blocking the only entrance and exit from the office.

 

The office was quiet, an air of familial tranquility hanging just above their heads. Skittery sat down in his chair, folding his newspaper for later as he began to scribble over the ledger still open from his earlier work.  Critter purposefully kept reading, ignoring Audrey as she sat perfectly straight expertly hiding her fidgeting hands under the desk. The old bird was allowing the girl to get comfortable, adapt to the new surrounding as he had seen her do so many times before. By pretending she had always been in this place, Critter allowed Laces the ability to settle down as if she was a regular in the tiny office. He waited patiently until the moment when he heard her hands rustling in the basket under his desk.

 

“You write to Jacob Henry Canterbury often enough.” He stated abruptly. Audrey dropped whatever object she had managed to grab from the basket with a clunk. Her bright brown eyes flashed up to meet the steady gaze of Critter. She gritted her teeth ready to reply angrily but Critter didn’t give her an opportunity.

 

“Can’t find enough time to write to Jack is it?” He questioned softly. Skittery was trying his best to keep on with his own work, not get involved in whatever methods Critter was taking with Laces. 

 

“Do you even want Jack writing to me? Won’t it ruin your plan, their plan to have me be a social delight.” Laces once again tried to shrug out of the heavy jacket, now feeling trapped again. Critter reached out with one hand and clasped his thumb and forefinger over the neck button of his own coat forcefully keeping the material wrapped around her. 

 

“It’s cold in here.” He sighed before proceeding. “Do you want to write to Jack and think I won’t allow it?”

 

Critter O’Connell would bet his life that the thought of obeying such an edict had never crossed the stubborn girl’s mind. His shoulders tensed and his dark brows pressed down in a frown at the mere thought of Laces hiding behind such a lie. She caught his change in demeanor immediately and just shook her head.

 

“What is that?” He demanded. 

 

“No. It’s not because of you.” She whispered dropping her eyes from his angry stare. 

 

“And I know it’s not because of Thomas or Casey.” Critter continued.  Laces made no attempt to object to the statement of knowledge.

 

“And we all know he’s been writing you.” Critter ventured. She just nodded miserably pulling at the corner of the paper that was still visible in the cuff of the coat. 

 

“Do you not want to write to him?” Skittery piped in.

 

“That’s not it…” She tried defending herself. 

 

“Pride is a nasty thing.” Critter snapped his wrist and a quick movement was holding the letter from Jack Kelly. 

 

“Give it back!” Audrey demanded instantly jumping to her feet. “And it has nothing to do with pride.”

 

“Aren’t dwelling on how he left, how angry are you at him? At Spot?” Critter taunted.

 

“Think you know everything!” Audrey growled as she spun her shoulder into Critter’s chest and wrapped her hands around the fist holding her letter.

 

“I do know everything.” Critter chuckled as he let her overtake him.  Loosening his grip on the letter so she could retrieve it without ripping the paper. 

 

“What do you care if I write to Jack or not?” She demanded.

 

“I might not care so much about Jack than I do about Spot, but aside from that you are distracted by your feelings.” Critter wrapped his arm around her torso pulling to turn her around to face him. 

 

“And that matters because?” Audrey glared at him.

 

“It makes you vulnerable. You don’t notice things, like when someone is following you…” Critter glared back.

 

“No one is following me, I’m not in danger all the time.” She threw her hands up.

 

“You’ve been back in the city for almost two months. Have you even been invited to call on any of the prestigious families? The Astors?” Critter crossed his arms over his chest expectantly. Audrey huffed impatiently. She was annoyed at the lack of importance to the conversation she was having with a man that might know something about Jack Kelly or Spot Conlon.

 

“What do the Astors have to do with anything?” Audrey demanded.

 

“Everything, according to every newspaper in the city. You are trying to fit in?” Critter reproached.

 

“You should just stop being angry at them.” Skittery sighed trying to control the tempers around him. 

 

“And stop being such a child.” Critter added harshly.

 

“Everyone insists upon treating me as a child.” She huffed.

 

“He is going to stop writing if you don’t start replying.” Critter barely spoke his threat above a whisper.

 

“Why did you bring me here?” She cried at Skittery.

 

“To keep you out of trouble until we return you to the Longfellow Estate tonight.” Critter responded before Skittery could open his mouth. 

“We don’t get to see you often.” Skittery added. 

 

“Here, use this and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” Critter pushed forward a fountain pen as he pushed his body off the desk. Laces clutched the pen in her hand and watched as the man disappeared down the steps.

 

“Who does he think he is?’ Audrey fumed.

 

“The man that’s going to get your letter in the mail and to the right place.” Skittery smiled as he pulled a cigarette.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Even with his eyes closed, Jasper knew where every bird was in the building. He was lying rigidly still with his arms tensely cradling his head and his toes twitching enough to shake the chair that created the end of his makeshift bed.

 

Jasper listened as someone clumsily stepped onto the roof above and he slowly began to press his shoulders into the slightly cushioned, blanketed board he rested on. As his body curved upward, he stretched out his hands in either direction for one breath before curling his wrists into his hanging suspenders. In seconds, Jasper was sitting up and lacing up his boots ready to appear as if he never slept at all.

 

The footsteps had moved from the rooftop to stomping down the stairs in the hallway on the other side of the paper-thin wall. Jasper pushed the base of his hands into his closed eyes, rubbing out the sleep he hadn’t achieved. As the door creaked opened, the young man stood up like a general ready for battle. 

 

“You should lift your feet when you walk.” Jasper sighed heavily. He pivoted gracefully, letting his arms fold over his chest immediately exhibiting expectancy.

 

“Forgive me if I was a bit sluggish after running…” Bitter began. Jasper arched an eyebrow and clenched his jaw, daring the girl in front of him to complain. The nest had been moved to an abandoned tenement building in the Lower East Side, Manhattan. It was the first time the Birds of Brooklyn had ever left the familiar banks of the East River and the solid confines of Brooklyn. Jasper hated being on the wrong side of the bridge and many of his birds didn’t appreciate it either. But the move had been commanded, an edict directly from Critter O’Connell was never ignored.

 

“...Well, I was running around earlier…” Bitter grumbled.

 

“The coffee in the Lower East Side is just the same as the coffee in Brooklyn.” Jasper chastised lightly. He knew Bitter had been running across the bridge often for foods she insisted were better on that side of the river.

 

“Ain’t really though. Even Daisy says…” Bitter started but bite down on her lower lip as she caught the menacing glare from Jasper.

 

“I ain’t really the waiting type, Bitter…” Jasper growled as he began rolling a cigarette in his left hand.

 

“Yeah, right. Of course, ain’t mean to make you wait or nothing.” Bitter mumbled as she slammed her shoulder against the doorframe. She watched as Jasper weaved a match through his fingers, meticulous and focused. But before the man lit the match, a faint scent of burning reached her nose. Before Bitter registered the oddity, Jasper had flown past her and down the cramped stairs of the building. 

 

Two flights down, on the backside of the third floor stood two seven year old twin boys giggling at flicker flame in an old tin bath. A few of the other younger birds sat curled up around the room, wearing half constructed masks or costumes and delighting in the building fire. The twins didn’t realize when the unnatural hush settled over their companions until a sharp pain smack the back of their knees.

 

“What has gotten into you fools?” Jasper roared. Using the hand not holding the plank of wood he had used to strike the twins, he picked up Ghost by the back of his suspenders.

 

“Go down and get a bucket of water. Quicker than quick.” Jasper commanded as he shoved the ten year old the door. He was glaring down at the twins. The boys were fighting not to let the tears escape their eyes.

 

“What are you two doing?” Jasper demanded again as his first question had yet to be answer. Wild, the twin missing his two front teeth, dared to look up at the tall leader of the birds with dissatisfaction. 

 

“We were lighting our Halloween fire…” Wild tried to control his sniffles.

 

“…To keep away the bad ghouls.” West, the twin with all the freckles rubbed at his eyes. Jasper had not been soft with his whacking of the two little boys, though he had control himself to only hit them once. 

 

“You’ve always let us light a fire before.” Raindrop, a scruffy twelve-year-old girl, poked her head out from a nearby hammock.

 

“We have always been in a warehouse before, where the fire could be control and I could keep an eye on you misfits. This is a tenement building that would go up in flames like that,” Jasper snapped his fingers loudly and his left wrist twitched enough for the plank of wood to look as if it might strike again. The twins scrunched their eyes closed, trying to prepare for the expectant blow but it never came.

 

“You didn’t have to whack the kids.” Raindrop ventured.

 

“I should whack you! You being the eldest in the room and letting these children almost burn down the new nest.” Jasper suggested, now actually turning to stare at girl.

 

Raindrop didn’t retreat back into her bed, instead lifting her head up to let her chin hover over the canvas material. She had clearly been asleep, her black hair sticking up over her forehead and her dark eyes slightly glazed.

 

“Don’t hit Raindrop!” West begged.

 

“Yeah, we’ll take her licks. It was our fault.” Wild nodded bravely.

 

Jasper growled at their insolence, debating smacking the boys for good measure. But upon catching sight of Bitter now leaning in the doorframe, Jasper itched to know news again. He lifted his foot and let his boot stomped down extinguishing the flickering flame. A huff of disappointment escaped the children of the room, but none dared express their feelings out loud.

 

“How are we going to keep out the ghosts now?”  A tough looking girl of about nine asked from the worn out carpet at the mouth of the backroom.

 

“Keep the windows closed.” Jasper sighed weary of the conversation already. He knelt down, dropping the plank and reaching out with both his hands to clasp the back of each twins’ neck. 

 

“No more fires.” Jasper hissed through gritted teeth. The little boys looked like they were about to object, so Jasper added quickly. “Or I will give you a few licks to cry about.”

 

The twins nodded as they squirmed away from their leaders grasp. Wild and West were the youngest birds to ever join the flock. A pair of strays that Daisy hadn’t been able to resist, she had convinced Jasper they would be great assets. She had argued that them being so young and small, they could be trained well and fit into cramped spaces.

 

“When’s Daisy getting back? She said she would bring us treats.” Wild questioned.

 

“You don’t deserve any treats, almost burning the nest down.” Jasper grumbled as he stood back up. Ghost stumbled back in, carrying a pail of water with both hands. He struggled to dump the water onto the glowing embers of the fire, without any help from anyone else in the room.

 

“You didn’t let us out for our own treats, least let us have the treats the bigger kids get us.” Raindrop reproached. Jasper growled again, annoyed the little girl continued to bicker with him. She had recently grown into her mouth but unfortunately Jasper couldn’t blame her current compliant. The leader of the birds had forbid any of the birds not on assignment to go out for Halloween. His flock was new to living in Manhattan and he didn’t want any of his birds to draw attention to themselves or their nest. Besides, Matches had reported just days ago the city police were going to crack down on miscreants which would no doubt included most of his flock.

 

“I brought some sweets.” Bitter popped her lips as she pulled out a handful of wrapped sweets from her pocket. The trained children in the room swamped Bitter, scrambling quietly and expertly into a position to all simultaneously steal the candy.  

 

“You had better have been paying attention to what was happening around you and not just where to get treats from.” Jasper murmured as he glared at Bitter. Bitter inched into the center of the room with a swarm of children surrounding her as Jasper slipped out into the cramped hallway. All the doors on the third floor were open and Jasper listened to the sounds of craps games, teasing, musings and even some snoring. He heard the pressure of soft footsteps stepping through a window near a fire escape and he turned as Matches approached.

 

“You weren’t upstairs.” Matches shrugged nonchalantly as he noted the disapproval on Jasper’s face. Jasper ran a hand over his chin, exasperated by the evening already.

 

“Come on.” Jasper started sprinting up the stairs. The fourth floor was where the Owls usually slept. It was the quietest floor of the entire building, aside from the eerily silence of the fifth floor where only the most seasoned birds settled to always listening. 

 

Matches followed Jasper past the makeshift bed, the leader rarely slept on and into the front room where a large table was cramped. Jasper sat down in the chair nearest the open window, glancing out into the darkness only once. 

 

“Did she get there all right then?” Jasper prompted. Matches was tucking his toes into the backing of the chair he was perched upon, already shuffling through a deck of cards. 

 

“Was there ever any doubt she would get there all right?” Matches popped one of his reddish eyebrows up in mockery. Jasper shrugged not chastising his old friend for the tone, or questioning.

 

“We never really know with that girl, she steps off a sidewalk and the direction of the wind changes.” Jasper sighed dropping his head to light the cigarette he had been holding since Bitter arrived ages before. 

 

“The three of them arrived in their best carriage. I believe Thomas and Casey were dressed as George and Martha Washington.” Matches frowned at the statement before dealing out five cards to Jasper.

 

“And Laces?” Jasper nodded as he flicked his cards up to study his hand. 

 

“Cinderella. Hardly recognized her…”

 

Every movement caught a glint or glitter from one of the sewn in jewels of Audrey’s gown. From the way the girl tilted her head up, pulling down her mask slightly to observe, Matches knew she thought the costume was like a firework for every bird on Fifth Avenue. He smiled as he noted how she appeared to be moving gracefully to the front door of the Samson estate, Halloween was after all a night of deception.

 

“She wasn’t moving gracefully?” Jasper questioned. 

 

“That gown is heavy she was moving slowly, sluggish.” Matches winked as he traded out two of cards Jasper had placed on the table. Jasper nodded, Laces had been taught by the harsh realities of the streets to move quickly not gracefully. 

 

“So you just watched her arrive?” Jasper asked. There was an edge of irritation and disappointment that colored the leader’s words, a warning that Matches had better have more information than just what the girl had been wearing to the party.

 

“Well I saw everyone arrive at the party, including a Sir Jacob Henry Canterbury who was dressed as a prince.” Matches smiled mischievously as he threw two pennies, three caramel candies, and a shoestring on the table.

 

“Matches,” Jasper growled as he chucked a booklet of matches, and three cigarettes onto the table.

 

“It’s amazing how some people don’t see past the edge of their very own nose.” Matches frowned at the annoyance on Jasper’s face but continued.

 

“I was sitting up in that tree across from the Samson place, the one that’s just a bit too big to be in front of the third Astor cousin’s home…”

 

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