counterfeit [newsies x reader]

chapter ten

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CHAPTER TEN

"WHY'S EVERYONE SO SCARED OF BROOKLYN?"

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IN A MATTER OF MINUTES Jack had concocted an entire "union" out of thin air. He had gotten the newsies to vote him president and appointed them all members, all while giving Les the position of secretary. You and Davey stood there, baffled.

"You can't just do that! It's a process!" You sputtered out.

"Sure I can, we're a union!" Jack cheered.

You exhaled, looking at the group of boys.

"Fine, but only because you lot are too stupid to figure this whole thing out yourself."

***

You and Davey had been corralled into being Vice Presidents of a sort, backing Jack up and feeding him the words he needed. The three of you, with your secretary Les, had gone to The World, followed by your fellow newsies. The four of you made your case, explaining everything that the newsies needed, and why the price change was unfair, only to be thrown out.

All of you were now seated in Jacobi's Deli, which was apparently a popular gathering spot for the Manhattan newsies.

"So, what do we do know?" One boy, who you recognized as Buttons, asked.

Jack was already ready with an answer. "We spread the word!"

The other newsies began calling out places and boroughs to spread the word of the strike to.

"I got Harlem."

"I've got Midtown!"

While all the newsies were calling out many popular and important neighborhoods, something seemed to be missing. Jack seemed to see that as well.

"Who wants Brooklyn?"

The cheerful and excited chatter of the newsies died down at the mention of Brooklyn.

"Spot Conlon's turf? C'mon Finch, you telling me you're afraid of Brooklyn?"

Finch turned around slowly, before shooting up out of his chair and fidgeting with his hands.

"I ain't scared of no turf!" He yelled at Jack, but quickly sat down and began bouncing his knee up and down again.

"But that Spot Conlon, gets me a little jittery." He elaborated.

You gave out a stifled laugh. What was so bad about Brooklyn? You'd been over there several times with your mother and there wasn't really a real reason to be scared. It was just a bunch of other newsboys.

At the sound of your laughter, a few heads spun around to look at you in disbelief. However, before they could ask you any questions or you could volunteer, another voice rang out.

"Why is everyone so afraid of Brooklyn?" You looked to see a young woman, probably a little bit older than you. You knew you'd seen her somewhere before, maybe at a grocery store or even at the Bowery. One thing was clear however, Jack definitely had seen her before, his eyes were glued on her and he had that stupid grin on his face.

Before Jack could to say anything stupid, you decided to speak up on the previous topic.

"I was about to ask the same thing," you seconded the young woman's statement. "I'll take Brooklyn." You said, eyes locked with Jack.

You heard some newsies choke on their water and a few mumble. Jack looked at you with his brow furrowed.

"Never mind why Shortstack wants to die a slow and painful death, what's you'se doing here?" He asked, turning to the new girl, ultimately deciding to save your Brooklyn conversation for another day. You decided that you wouldn't take what Jack just said to heart, and listen to what the newcomer had to say.

"I'm a reporter." She responded shortly, as if it was obvious. (It was, she was carrying around a pad of paper and a fancy pen.)

"Shouldn't you be at the flower show?" Jack promoted, earning a few laughs from the boys. You however, did not think it was very funny. You knew from experience how obnoxious it was for someone to sell you short.

"She might as well be, if your numb-skull isn't giving her the time of day." You spat at Jack.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow before giving a small chuckle. It seemed he thought that everything you said was funny. He shook his head at you before turning his head back to the girl.

"I thought your beat was entertainment?"

You began to wonder how he'd known her in the first place. If her beat was entertainment, then she might've been at covering some of the new theatre shows. She might've even been at the Bowery last night. And now that you thought about it, she might've been the reason that Jack was too busy to show you where on earth you were. It would explain their confusing dynamic and witty banter.

"It is," she huffed, "but I'm just busting out of the social pages, and I really need a good story."

She was completely right. You knew how hard it could be for a woman as a reporter, or in any workplace for that matter.

"Maybe you should give her a chance, Jack." You reasoned. "Publicity is something we need, and last time I checked, you couldn't write yourself a story any newsie would want to sell." You explained, mainly joking.

He looked at you once more, his brow furrowed. He was probably done with your tomfoolery and might've wanted to ditch you to go find a better and less obnoxious charity case.

"Fine." He said, almost like he was surrendering.

You smiled, as if it was a victory for you too.