counterfeit [newsies x reader]

chapter twelve

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CHAPTER TWELVE

"THE KING AND I"

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YOU AND JACK STEPPED into the room cautiously, you being almost on your toes. Your heart was a racing mess as you awaited the big, bad Spot Conlon. All the newsies has made such a big deal about him and even you began to wish that you hadn't come.

But it was too late now. You and Jack had already made the trek, and were standing right inside the door. You looked at Jack with wide eyes, unsure of what to say.

"Hey Conlon, it's me!" Jack called through the small attic space. You flinched, unaware of what would happen next. A loud thundering could be heard in the room next door and you could only assume it was footsteps. A young man about five-foot and four inches entered the room. He was of course wearing the same red and black garb as the rest of the Brooklyn boys. If it wasn't for the fact that he was absolutely fuming, you would've thought he was pretty cute. Was this the supposed "King Of Brooklyn" that everyone was scared of?

"What on earth are you doing over here, Kelly?" He asked. "I thought we had a deal." His eyes flickered over to you but Spot didn't say a word.

You immediately wanted to explain, but you thought it'd be best if Jack took the lead.

"We're going on strike." Jack spoke, matter-of-factly. You rolled your eyes. You weren't going to get anywhere with Jack negotiating.

"What he means," you stepped forward, "is that Pulitzer raised the price of papers and is trying to screw us over. We're not gonna let him push us down. If we want to make an impact, we need all the boroughs to go on strike." you paused. "We need your help."

Spot cocked his head, his angry demeanor subsiding. He looked more confused than anything. It was almost like he wasn't expecting so many words to come out of you.

"And who're you?" He asked.

Jack opened his mouth to introduce you, but you took action first.

"I'm Frank, but the boys call me Shortstack." You explained, extending your hand out for a shake. Spot hesitated at first but shook your hand in the end.

"That's a good head you've got on your shoulders, Shortstack." He commented. You nodded, acknowledging his statement. Spot turned around and motioned for the two of you to follow him.

He led you to the smaller room where he'd been moments before. Inside sat a small wooden bed and a few piles of things that you could assume he'd found over the years.

"Look fellas," you could see it coming, from a mile away, that he wasn't going to commit. "Pulitzer and the other guys screwed us over too, but we got some stuff on the line." He explained, attempting to let you both down slowly.

"We do too, Spot." Jack persisted. Spot spun around fast, and looked Jack dead in the eyes.

"I got kids to be lookin' after, Kelly. I can't risk them busting their skulls all for nothin'."

You wanted to cry out and tell him that, no, it wouldn't be for nothing, but you could tell that telling him something he already knew wasn't going to give him more patience. Spot took in a breath and took a step back.

"I admire what you're doing, but I don't wanna risk my whole lot." He paused. "At least, not until you can prove you ain't gonna fold as soon as the Delancey's start swinging."

The three of you stood in silence for a moment, before Jack opened his mouth to persist. You reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder to stop him from speaking before thinking. Spot wasn't going to join the strike, at least, not for now.

Jack nodded. "Just think about it, Conlon." He spoke before turned and leaving the side room. You stood still, watching Spot for a moment before speaking.

"I know it's scary. Heck, I'm scared." You explained. "But please, just think about it." You didn't wait for him to say anything before you sped out after Jack. You'd really hoped he consider. Maybe the trek was all for nothing.

You climbed down the metal ladder and stood at the bottom as Jack came down. He gave a nod to Greaser as he left, the lanky boy watching. He'd probably heard every word. You and Jack walked away, but Greaser crowed out a "good luck" as you left the alley.

Maybe some of the other Brooklyn newsies would consider joining. You looked to Jack, his brow furrowed and face red.

"What do we do now Jack?" You asked.

He pondered for a moment, hoping their was some other way for the strike to work out.

"We see if the other boys convinced the other boroughs to join, and then we see."

You nodded and looked down at the road.

"But until then," He spoke. "We're screwed."

And so, the two of you began the miraculous trek back to Manhattan, Jack kicking around another can and you praying that the whole strike wouldn't be for nothing.