Brooklyn Baby | Spot Conlon ¹

Chp. 17: Aunt

"Stop!" I laugh as Spot loads my cap into his slingshot. "Spot, don't!"

He grins and points the shooter towards the river, aiming far out. I try to reach for his sling shot, but he holds it too high. At the last minute, he drops the hat out of the shooter, and releases his finger from the rubber sling. I grab my hat and tug it back onto my head.

"Ya know, 'stop' and 'spot' is like tha same word. The letta's just is mixed up," I say.

"I guess you's right,"

"Yeah,"

"Have ya told ya brudda yet?"

"No, but I was plannin' on doin' it later," I mumble.

"Surely he can't get that mad,"

"I dunno, he could. He has ta know eventually, though. We been togetha' for a week. It's time,"

"Agreed,"

"I'll talk to him lata', and you's don't have ta come, because I know ya won't leave Brooklyn."

"I would leave for ya, but I's afraid that Jackie boy will have me head when ya tell him." He says. "So, I'll sit this one out,"

"Good idea,"

"So, when ya tell him, come back and talk ta me,"

"I will," I smile. "If I make it out alive,"

"Jackie, can I talk to ya?"

"Aw no, you ain't pregnant are ya? I swear, I'll kill hi--"

"What? Jack, no. Listen to me,"

"What?"

"I'm with someone," I say carefully. "And that someone is Spot,"

He looked surprised. "When have ya been seein' Spot?"

"Well, ya know how I say I's goin' ta Harlem," I say. He gives me a look. "I ain't really goin' ta Harlem.."

"I figured. No one can deal wit Skiddy that often,"

I laugh. "So, you's okay with it?"

"As long as ya be careful. If he hoits you, I'll kill 'im,"

"I'll make sure he knows. Bye, Jackie,"

"Where ya goin' now?"

"Ta Brooklyn," I say with a grin.

~

"So, he took it well?"

"Yeah," I say. "He said if ya hurt me, he's gonna kill ya,"

"I'd like ta see him try," He grins.

"Oh, I dunno, Spot."

"What? You think Jackie boy would beat me?"

"Spot, ya know I think ya's strong 'n all, but--"

"My goil don't even believe in me? I might gotta change that," He reaches over to tickle me, and I squeal, pulling away.

"No, do not start with that,"

"Then let me kiss ya," He says, pulling me towards him. I grin, and nod.

"Get a room!" Bucky shouted. I just laughed and pushed Spot away playfully.

"I should probably get back ta 'Hattan, anyways," I say.

"Goin' so soon?" Spot asks.

"I promised Jackie I'd go hang out wit him. He's feelin' jealous that I's spendin' all my time with ya,"

He just nods, and kisses me. "See ya, Kenny."

"Bye, Spot."

I walk off the dock, earning some goodbyes from the Brooklyns.

When I'm back in Manhattan, it's the same. Busy, and loud. What I liked about Brooklyn was that sure, the nightlife was a little dangerous, but during the day it was mostly peaceful. When Spot is there, anyways.

I finally reach the lodging house, where I see every newsie in the living room of sorts.

"It's tha Kensta!" Mush calls.

"Kenny, where ya been?" Blink asks.

"She been in Brooklyn," Jack says with a smirk. "Wit Spot Conlon,"

"Spot?! Whatcha' doin' with Spot?" Specs asks.

"We know exactly what she's doin' with Spot," Race says smugly.

"Damn, now I owe you money," Mush says to Race.

"Damn right ya do,"

"Wouldja all just shut it? I was just hangin' out wit him," I say, pulling off my cap. "Jackie, is we goin'?"

"Where are ya two goin' now?" Blink says.

"We's goin' ta lunch, see you bums lata'," I say as Jack nods, and follows me out of the house.

"So, how's Brooklyn? How does they operate ova' there?"

"Well, he got people to do this work for him," I start. "He's got Fetch, a messenga'. He's also got spies, Hack and Ace."

"I guess there's got ta be a reason no one messes wit 'em," Jack agrees.

"Yeah, guess so. He's also got newsies, of course, and they's nice."

"Any of 'em give you a hard time?"

"Nah, Spot made sure of it."

Just then, we're stopped by a woman. She's wearing probably the most expensive outfit I've ever seen. Her smile was delicate, and he hair was effortlessly pinned back.

"Kendall, Francis!" She exclaimed, hugging the two of us.

I exchanged the same confused look with Jack.

"Sorry, do we know ya?" I ask.

"I'm your aunt, Anne Vanderbilt."