Chapter Text
Big Man scowled he didn’t have a beef with Conlon-didn’t want one either. What the hell was the leader of the Brooklyn newsies doing standing outside a Manhattan warehouse? Big Man wiped his brow. All he’d wanted was a piece of Manhattan and to teach Cowboy a little lesson in sharing. None of which had anything to do with Brooklyn. He nodded towards his boy Mitchy, who opened the door of the warehouse they’d appropeerated. Mitchy stumbled back as Spot slumped against the doorway that damn cane spinning in his palm.
Big Man stood a foot taller than Spot, had at least fifty pounds on him, but every instinct in his body told him not to push it. “Evening Spot.” Showing Spot respect was considered smart by everyone.
“Evening Big Man,” Spot’s smirk made Big Man nervous and looking around Big Man could tell he wasn’t the only one, but he was the one that had to deal with him.
“Something we can do for you Spot?”
“You? Not particularly.” Spot eyed the other side of the warehouse, where Cowboy and the Manhattan boys did not look pleased by the interruption. Big Man may have made the move but it looked like Jacky-boy was impatient to show him the error of his ways. He inclined his head, “Cowboy.”
Jack looked surprised. “Yeah Spot?”
Spot rolled his eyes with such a disgusted sneer that several Brooklyn Boys bowed up, taping their bats against their large hands.
Jack looked to his own. Blink tapped his bat against the floor not paying attention. Mush just looked confused and, as he looked around the other confused faces, Jack really wished he could’ve brought Crutchie. His eyes landed on the only person who looked angry rather than confused and sighed.
Big Man got there first, quickly offering. “Hey, I asked him to take a hike.”
While technically a Manhattan boy everyone knew Racetrack sold in Brooklyn with the King’s blessing, ran cards in Queens, dice in the Bronx, and numbers in Midtown. Race was the only newsie welcomed anywhere and soaking him could be taken badly by all. He’d already told his boys to leave Racetrack be, which was a relief to them and a done deal before he'd even said it.
Race scowled, not liking the implication. “Ey!”
Jack didn’t mention he’d also told Race to beat it and he didn’t say anything now because he had to share living quarters with the guy.
Spot turned his scowl towards Race. “Let’s go Higgins.”
“Wha? No,” Race furious, glared between the leaders.
Jack sighed, so much for staying out of it, but if Race managed to piss Spot off nothing was getting done but Brooklyn soaking the lot of them. “Go on Race. We’s got this and you gotta a game tonight.”
Race threw up his hands. “Fuck it.” He stalked through Big Man’s boys and they quickly leaned back out of the way of the shorter boy. Race stopped at the doorway, nose to nose with Brooklyn’s king. Spot raised an eyebrow, Race scoffed. “I hope Brooklyn’s got moola to lose tonight.” He went past Spot and the doorway.
Spot glanced back, watching Race walk away and nodded for a couple of his boys to follow, he didn’t think Race was ready for his company yet. He turned his eyes back into the warehouse, “Gentlemen.” He nodded and stepped from the doorway. He waited until he heard the lock engage before he signaled a few of his boys with a glance. “If it ain’t Jacky boy that comes out that door soak ‘em.” He didn’t need some damn upstart getting ideas.