His Thing

Chapter 8

This is where a lot of the dirty jokes you may see start, so, uh, have fun with that.

Sorry for the language!

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Thursday night, Race, Blink, and Jack walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and the abandoned theater. Brooklyn's abandoned theater.

Now, there's a difference between Brooklyn, and Brooklyn. Brooklyn was the coldest city you could come across. It's the most feared Burrough in New York, and everyone knew not to step on the grounds without something to look for. That's where Brooklyn came in.

That Brooklyn was Spot Conlon, the most feared leader in every Burrough known to Newsie kind. If you mess with Spot Conlon, you'd get the nastiest soaking of your life.

If you mess with his things, you'll die.

That's why Race comes home without a scratch.

"Alright, Racetrack, what the hell are we doin' here?" Blink stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his dirty Converse scraping the road. "I got a boyfriend in Manhattan that I canceled on because you wanted to see your boy toy."

"Say it again, Eyepatch, I dare you." Blink froze up at the voice, a shiver of fear going down his spine. Race smiled widely as Jack grinned softly.

"Spotty!" Race hugged his boyfriend, kissing him. "I missed you."

"I saw you four hours ago, darling", Spot smiled, a smirk, really. "I just sent you to get Jackie Boy. We got a meetin'."

"Says who?" Spot glared at Blink, pulling his cane out of his belt loop.

"Says Brooklyn", he says, threateningly, turning Jack. "It's good to see you again, Jackie Boy. Heard you got caught up with the cops."

"And who told you that?" Spot smirked as he pulled Race closer to him, placing a hand in the back pocket of the blonde's jeans.

"A pretty blonde boy with eyes like the Hudson", Spot responded, placing a cigarette in his mouth. He looked Race over. "Ready to go? All the others are there."

"I ain't sure if you's takin' us to the meetin', or tryin' to give us a show", Jack teased, Blink cackling at his words. Spot rolled his eyes as Race blushed darkly, leading the boys to his very own palace.

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"Alright, everybody shut up!" The leaders, seconds, and thirds stopped talking immediately, looking towards Spot. "We gotta figure this out."

"I wanna know what my guys is doin' gettin' arrested in Kelly's territory", the leader of the Bronx, Smalls, declares. There was an angry look on her face. "How's they even get there in the first place?"

"Well, obviously they walked", Jack retorted, erupting a new set shouting. "God, would you all shut the hell up?! It's like you's tryin' to wake the neighborhood."

"Well, Smalls had a good question", the leader of Queens, Roller, adds, crossing her arms. "Why are my guys—my boys, specifically—getting arrested on your parts, Kelly? It's sketchy, if you're asking me."

"Well, I wasn't askin' you, so shut up", Jack responded, glaring at the older girl. They had a deep history, one with mostly friendly banter. "And I ain't got a clue."

"The hell you don't!" Everyone turned to look at York, Spot's third. "How you don't know what's goin' on on your turf? Where the fuck have you been?!"

Spot sighed as he rubbed his temples, Race's hand on one of his shoulders. "York-"

"No, I want to know. How is it that you ain't seen what's been happenin' right in front of you? Are you that dumb-"

"York!" Spot turned to his friend with seriousness, never glancing away. "Sit."

The younger sat in a chair, slumping angrily. "I know you's all worried, but we's gonna look into this. Me and Jackie Boy have got it, alright?"

Everyone murmured amongst themselves, unsure. "Alright?"

The crowd nodded, the business on the table ceasing. Jack had no idea what to do. Luckily for him, none of his own boys went missing, but everyone else will be up his ass for theirs.

"Now onto more important business", Spot says loudly, smirking towards his long time friend. "Jack's little puppy."

The leader rolled his eyes as he sighed, trying hard to ignore everyone's 'oohs' and 'ahhs.' "He ain't a puppy. His name is Davey."

"Correction, it's David", Race added, a smirk of his own on his face. "And Jack thinks he's the best thing in the world since chocolate."

"And I bet you thinks Spot's-"

"Watch yourself, Kelly", Spot warned, twirling a cigarette between his finger. "I ain't above killin' you."

Jack sighed. "I like him a lot. So don't screw it up for me."

"Aw, the Leader of Manhattan has feelin's", Hotshot, Spot's second, teased as everyone erupted into laughter. Jack sat up straighter.

"Point is, if any of you touch him, it will be me, your head, and an oven", Jack threatened, his voice deadly serious. "He's mine."

"Oh, don't worry, Jackie", Jack's least favorite person on the earth starts, his hands up in surrender. "I'll be careful."

Carly, the second to the Bronx, and Jack's will to murder. They got into it a few years back, and haven't been right by each other since. If one glanced at the other, both of them would be dead.

Jack took a deep breath, thinking of his lover's crystal blue eyes. "We better get goin' before I commit a serious crime."

"Oh, we wouldn't want you in jail...again."

Jack nearly jumped over the table, stopping himself just in time. He ran a hand through his dark brown hair, it having become a mess again. "Boys, girls, we'll see you next time."

"Oh, hey, Jack", Race calls before Blink and Jack leave, now sitting on Spot's lap. "I'm stayin' in Brooklyn, alright? Spot's got somethin' for me."

Jack smirked, snickering quietly. "Yeah, you have fun with that."

"Fuck you!"

"You got someone that will do that for me!"

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Jack sighed as he walked into the theater, taking off his jacket. The building was quiet, not a sound throughout it. Medda must be at home.

He walked up the stairs to his room, ready to relax with the smell of paint, a fresh canvas, and the image of Davey on his mind.

He smiled at the thought, opening his door. Everything seemed to be in order.

"Hey, Al", he greeted, his brows furrowed in confusion. He looked around. "It's, uh, it's pretty late."

Albert was pacing back and forth, his arms crossed worriedly. His hair was a mess, his eyes bloodshot red, and his breath was getting faster by the second. "Woah, have you been cryin'?"

"Elmer, he-" Albert stopped walking, turning to Jack anxiously. "They- he got- I think...no, I know the police took him."

Jack's eyes widened as he walked over to his friend. "What?"

"I don't know", Albert's voice broke as he tried to hold back his tears. "Some...guy came and- we tried to fight. I-I got away- how did I get away-"

"Calm down", Jack tried, wrapping Albert in a hug. "It's okay. We'll figure this out, alright?"

Albert sniffled in response, eliciting a sigh out of Jack.