Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

A Day at the Races	By : Gigi2904 Category: M through R > Newsies Views: 1134 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies (Disney, 1992), nor do I earn any money from this fan fiction. More's the pity!

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
“Hey, Race, where ya goin’?”
“Do I look like the blabbin’ type to you?”
“Awright, awright!” Mush threw his hands up in mock conciliation “Don’t shoot a guy for askin’!”
Racetrack ignored his grinning friend - it was that or knock him down, and he figured Mush probably wouldn’t appreciate that too much. Nor would Mush’s girl-of-the-week – and if there was one thing Race wanted to avoid at all costs, it was getting on the wrong side of Mhairi O’Connell's impressive right hook. But since there was no way he was going to let on about that, he kept silent. After a little more teasing, Mush finally took the hint, and Race was free to complete his getaway through the lodging-house window.
As he clattered down the fire escape, he fumbled with the buttons at his collar – the shirt didn’t quite fit him, and was a little tighter around the neck than he’d have liked, but at least it was clean. Well. Clean enough. Crossing the street, he adjusted his cap to a suitably rakish angle, and thrust his hands into his pockets. He cut a jaunty figure – or so he hoped – as he strode through the backstreets to the Vaudeville Hall stage door, whistling as he went. He tipped a wink to the two stage hands who lounged outside, cigarettes dangling from their lips – they nodded back and resumed their card game. It was quite a testament to his focus, Race reflected, that he didn’t double back and hustle them out of their pay packets. But he ignored temptation and crossed into the theatre.
From the noise the audience was making, Race guessed that the auditorium was full – or drunker than usual. It was often hard to tell, but drunk or sober there was no doubting the love they felt for Medda Larsen - the Swedish Meadowlark, and the theatre’s proprietor. Race had known Medda for years – she often provided a short term hiding place when the streets were a little too hot for his liking. She’d even taken him home with her once, when the Delanceys had caught him on the hop and left him more than a little bruised. She’d stitched up a nasty cut on above his eye – he’d been surprised by the neat workmanship until she pointed out that someone had to make her stage costumes – and given him the best meal he’d had in months. It had been nice, having someone to take care of him for once, although he’d been so uncomfortable sitting at the kitchen table underneath lines of drying petticoats and lacy bloomers that she’d laughed at him until he left the next morning.
His discomfort had of course vanished in his retelling of the story to the other envious newsies – Davey, who had always had a soft spot for the actress, had been more than usually quiet when he heard the tale shortly after joining the ranks of the newsboys. It was some weeks before Race had put him out of his misery and informed him that nothing had happened, and his sudden change in demeanour from funereal to smiling sunbeam had been quite remarkable. Not to mention very entertaining. Still, it had been a while now since that had happened– on the whole, the Delanceys had dropped the scare tactics after the strike a year ago - and he hadn’t swung by the theatre for a few months.
Well. Not until recently. Now he seemed to spend every spare second in the place. He was lucky so far that none of the newsies had-
“Hey Race!”
Aw. Shit. Racetrack turned quickly. David was leaning against the wall by the door, which explained how Race had missed him when he came in. He strolled over as casually as he could, a study in relaxation.
“Davey boy, how are ya?”
“Can’t complain, Race.”
“Doesn’t stop me. You here for Medda?”
David flushed, and Race grinned. A life on the streets had long since driven such obvious displays of emotion underground – David though, with his loving family and reliably warm home, had never had to learn keep his feelings to himself. It was always fun to needle a reaction out of him – and it served to assuage Race’s amiable, but nonetheless persistant, jealousy of the other boy’s good fortune. But now was no time for joshing, however good humoured.
“No point pretending. She’s trying out a new routine tonight- couldn’t miss it.”
“I know where you’re at, my friend. Nothing beats our Medda, huh?” Well, thought Race, not quite nothing…
“Ah! You shameless pair of flatterers!”
Both boys jumped a mile, turning shamefacedly to greet the chuckling woman in the purple dress. As usual, done up to the nines in frills and furbelowes, she was a sight for sore eyes - and judging by Davey's reaction, he must have had very sore eyes indeed.
“Evening Medda” Race gave her a lopsided grin as he removed his hat, Davey following suit. “Good crowd?”
“Only the best, Racetrack, and don’t I deserve it?”
“Of course ya do, Medda – that and more besides .”
“What a mouth you’ve got on you, my dear! How many girls have you won over with that pretty talk?”
“None that I wanted, Medda. You’ve always said no.”
The beaming smile on Medda’s face evoked an answering grin from Race. This was an old game between the two of them – they both knew Medda was old enough to be his mother. From Davey’s deep scowl it was clear that he wasn’t in on the joke.
“Silly boy. Enough of these talkings. Where are you watching from tonight? David?”
David flushed again, brick red this time. “The- the wings…that’s- that’s if that’s alright with you?”
“My dear boy, an audience from any angle is always alright with me. The pleasure is all mine.” The look on Davey’s face seemed to suggest that might not be entirely correct, but the actress continued. “And you, Herr Higgins? The normal place?”
Racetrack winced. He had hoped to avoid David finding out how much time he’d been spending down at the theatre lately. If Medda noticed his reaction though, she didn’t let on, forcing him to answer her question – out of the corner of his eye he could see Davey bristling. Damn. Explanations were clearly going to be necessary – fun though teasing the guy was, he was still fond of him and had no wish to start a fight where there was no need for one.
"Yeah Medda, thanks."
"Show'll be starting in five minutes, boys. Au revoir, mon petites!" She kissed them each on the cheek and flounced away in a whirl of petticoats. Race quickly scrubbed at the lipstick mark she had left - he noticed wryly that David was in less of a hurry to remove the imprint as he stared after the departing woman.
"Davey." No response. "Davey!"
"What?" Race had been quite right - David was not in the best of moods.
"Davey m'boy. Can you keep your mouth shut?"
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

A Day at the Races