counterfeit [newsies x reader]

chapter eleven

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

"BOUND FOR BROOKLYN"

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AFTER JACK HAD TAKEN his precious time talking to Katherine, he met you outside of Jacobi's. The two of you would be heading to Brooklyn. You would have gladly gone by yourself but Jack seemed to not like that idea very much.

You again didn't see why it was such a big deal. It was a bunch of newsboys that lived in a different neighborhood, how scary could it be?

The two of you were crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, just as the sun left it's place high in the sky. Based on its position you were guessing it was about five in the afternoon. It was odd walking around without selling papers, or without having any normal task really. Your whole life had been a scramble the last few days. A scramble of sickness and newspapers and being corralled into being Vice President.

The air of the bridge wasn't fresh but the sight sure helped you get your mind off it.

"So, Jack," You stared, attempting to create conversation. "What about you and that reporter? Katherine?"

"What do you mean?" He asked, like he didn't have a clue.

"I mean, it's obvious you like her." You laughed. He didn't really have a sense of how to hide his desperate attention, or maybe perhaps, that was what he was going for. "We–" You began but quickly faltered. You had planned on saying "we girls can tell" but then quickly nipped it in the bud. "I can tell."

He looked at you with that dumb look on his face. The one where he cinches his eyebrows together and squints his eyes a little. The one where you're not quite sure if he's actually confused or just joking.

"How?"

"You snuck off to see her at the Bowery, first off," You began listing. "Ditching Davey, Les and I in the process."

"Second, the two of you were throwing witty banter back and forth at each other like it was nobodies' business,"

"And third, your face gets real red and looks real jealous when there's a whole room of boys looking at someone you want to be yours."

You threw the last one in a joke, knowing he'd get a kick out of it. He did, giving you a playful punch in the arm, before going back to kicking a can he'd found on the road. The two of you were silent but you could feel the grin on Jack's face.

In the past few days he had become some variant of a brother. He had shown you the ropes, saved you from Snyder, convinced you to join the strike, and here the two of you were, having a somewhat deep conversation on the way to somewhere that he wanted to protect you from. Maybe he did this normally and looked out for all the newsies, but you hadn't had anyone look out for you in a long time.

You looked up from Jack's face and the roughed up pavement to see a figure not far off. Your heart hammered to a stop and your palms began to sweat. It was rather frightening to see a shadow at the dim hour of dusk. It wasn't just a person walking home from work, either.

This person had an odd aura about them. This person was a little bit older than you, maybe Jack's age, but he was different than you or Jack. He was wearing an odd combination of clothes with a bright red shirt, although he carried himself a bit like the Delancey's, tough and opposing.

"Jack–" You whispered quietly. He looked up from the can to see where you were pointing to. He lost that famous grin and nodded. He had tangled with these people before.

"Don't be scared, Shortstack." He reminded you. You swallowed and nodded back at him. His eyes didn't travel to you, but they remained on your surroundings, tracking all the movements in the alleys and shadows.

The further the two of you walked into Brooklyn, the more of them appeared. At first it was subtle. A few appeared on the road, staring you on. As time went on, a few began to follow you. The more that approached the more you tensed up. Jack kept his cool, although you could tell he himself was a little tense. The few that had continued to follow you had hung back until now. The two of you stopped at an alley.

"You better watch yourself, Kelly." One spat, as the two of you entered. You flinched.

The two of you stopped at the base of a fire escape. Someone was leaned up against the old brick wall, their hat over their face.

"Hot Shot told me you was comin' Kelly, but I didn't think you had it in you to show your face on this side of the river." They spoke.

"Greaser, you know I wouldn't bother Spot or you unless I really needed something."

"Greaser" looked up and allowed his hat to fall back on his face. He was rather frightening if you had anything to say about it. His mid-toned skin was tainted with bruises and dirt, and he had a bandanna tied tightly across his neck.

"Don't make me regret letting you in, Kelly." He spat, sharply. He exhaled and moved out of the way of the fire escape.

"Don't be surprised if Conlon ain't happy to see you, or doesn't give you what you'se wants." Greaser informed you. "He remembers your last visit too fondly."

Greaser's eyes shifted over to you, slowly albeit.

"And I'm sure he doesn't appreciate bringing such, fresh meat, onto his sacred ground." He chuckled, a deep throaty laugh emerging from his mouth.

Jack nodded, motioning for you to head up the fire escape first. He mumbled a "Thank you, Greaser.", before following after you. At the top, you could see all the newsies gathered at the bottom, awaiting what Spot was about to do the two of you.

You turned around to face what you were originally awaiting. An old brown door, golden light drifting out of the dingy panes. You reached for the knob and gave it a twist and pull, receiving a loud creak in return.

"Oi! Who'd Greaser let up this time?"