Of All the Things that I Don't Know (Spot Conlon + OC)

Chapter 21

"You alright, doll?"

I jolted somewhat as I felt strong hands gently grasp my hips and a warm, familiar voice tickle the back of my neck, pulling me from my distracted reverie. Groggily, I shook my head, the crowded scene that I had moved to the outskirts of several minutes before finally coming back with much more definition. The main room in the lodging house had been cleared out with the exception of a few tables and chairs lining the walls, and the food I had spent the past several days diligently preparing was slowly emptying from where I had set it out. Now, all the extra work seemed like such a small price to pay as I watched the group of about forty boys happily share in the sweets and the company.

However, the grip on my hips became somewhat firmer as Spot's voice again gently murmured, "Kate, maybe you should take a break. Go upstairs for a while, huh?"

I felt myself bristle instinctively at the command in his tone, irritable that I couldn't even rest for a few minutes on the edges of the crowd without Spot dictating my next moves. But as I continued to stare into the somewhat chaotic mess of people, I found my thoughts again distractedly wandering away, the prior weeks' interactions with Spot himself taking a firm hold of my mind.

The month following my decision to finally allow Spot Conlon's presence back into my bed, and my life for that matter, had passed by with surprising speed. However, although my rest was much improved by the change, I had noted another, deeper type of discomfort slowly developing within me. And upon further introspection into this growing disquiet, I had realized that it mostly had to do with my restricted access to the world outside the lodging house. For from almost the very moment I had been brought into Brooklyn, I had been mandated to remain no more than a few feet away from the old building. And although I was certainly thankful for the warm bed and food being provided to me, I had been slowly, but steadily unraveling from the confinement. So, after my reconciliation of sorts with Spot, I had felt much more comfortable opening up to him about my ever increasing restlessness. However, Spot had been not only resistant to the idea of me getting out somewhat around Brooklyn, but also downright inflexible.

"Absolutely not," Spot had said firmly one evening, a worry flashing in his bright blue eyes as he had stared down at me while I had sat braiding my hair on the bed.

I had glared at him incredulously, slightly irritated at the finality in his tone as I had replied, "Spot, I feel like I'm going insane cooped up in here all the time. I wouldn't need to go far, and if you're so worried then send someone with me, like Rummy or-"

"I already said no, Kate," he had sharply interrupted. And surprisingly my argument had swiftly died on my lips as I had noted the sudden rigidity of his jaw and the glowering fire in his eyes, an undeniable indication that, for him at least, the topic was truly no longer up for any debate.

Yet, having still considered his reaction completely unreasonable, and unsure of a better way to approach the subject with him, I had sought to enlist Rummy and Mary as allies for my cause.

However, Rummy had swiftly shaken his head in response to my request, muttering, "That ain't my place, Kate. And 'sides, if he acted that way with you when you brought it up, he sure as hell ain't gonna take it well from me, 'specially considerin' the fact that this is all goin' on behind his back. No, ma'am. Count me out."

And even Mary had raised her eyebrows at me in warning, stating, "Maybe you should find another way to bring it up to him, Katherine."

"Nothing that I've said warrants the reaction he's given me," I had replied challengingly, defiantly meeting her gaze from my seated position at the dining room table where we both had been polishing the few silver items in her possession.