It's Getting Warmer In New York // UsUk

1. Grease Ball

I flip a copper penny with my thumb, the glistening sun reflecting off Lincoln's old, grimy face. The train engine blasts- chugga chugga chugga chugga- a cloud of steam puffing out from the top as the wheels carry it away. 

The station is filled to the brim with immigrants, travelers- one of my own, yet complete strangers. There are a ton of reasons to come to New York, and more opportunities to count. Why I'm here? That's a long story, one I'd rather not think about right now. 

My eyes wander to the street girls skipping about in their flared dresses, and I smirk as the wind picks up. The cloth sways, only a scandalous amount of panties showing, and one girl's dress gets thrown right up. I burst out laughing as she looks around, every guy in a two meter radius looking away, acting like they didn't see anything. 

The differences in New York are apparent already. The dresses are shorter, the workers are younger, and the sky is brighter. It's perfect for me. 

As I start to walk off the station, pushing through the crowds of men in their cheap suits and stupid hats, I start searching for a job selling papers. I've heard it's not that hard- I used to shine shoes back in Ohio, and I always got compliments on my face. Pretty face, easy sell. That's what ma always told me. 

I end up walking half way off the sidewalk, searching for Help Wanted posters, or at least some place to sleep tonight. Sure, I got money, stole it from my father's wallet, but I'm trying to save that up. It's important. 

Clouds of birds rise and disperse from buildings, homeless people shake their hats as I walk by, kids toss around basketballs and stones- Everything is so new and exciting here. I catch a ball flying towards me, just before it can smash into my glasses, and a kid skitters over to me. Slicked back blonde hair and dumb looking overalls tells me he's a wealthy man's son. 

"Ay! Toss the ball!", He calls from a distance, and I throw it into his arms.

I expect him to turn around, go back to his gaggle of friends, but instead he keeps trudging towards me, brushing past older men and honking cars. I keep walking forward, even when he approaches. 

"Why do you look like that?", He asks, walking beside me and dribbling the ball against the cement. 

"What's that supposed to mean?", I narrow my eyes, pursing my lips into a pout. 

"I'm just sayin' you don't look like a Yorker", He shrugs. "You a foreigner?"

"Not that foreign. Ohio, Columbus."

"Hey! I got family down in Columbus! Ever heard of the Davis's?"

"No."

"Oh."

He shuts his mouth, but keeps walking beside me. I decide to tune him out, look around for more posters. I spot a factory, guarded by some fence but easily accessible. It looks abandoned, judging by the crippling bricks and moss snaking around the corner. I make a mental note. 

"So what's your name?", The kid asks, and I start to smile a bit. 

"Alfred", I respond, finally looking him in the eyes. "What's yours?"

"Davie!", He holds the ball close to his chest, his eyes gleaming with pride. "You lookin' for a job? I can get someone to hire ya!"

"You can!?", I stop dead in my tracks, and grin widely. 

"'Course! My pa, he says he needs some more newsies in the business. 'Course, I don't work for him, no, he says I don't need no job-"

"Your pa owns the newspaper?", I ask as he leads me to a nearby park, deserted from the absence of younguns in the area. Most of 'em should be working right now. "So you one of those rich kids, huh?"

"Not the newspaper, just one of 'em", He tries to be modest and humble, but it's obvious crap. "Ay, don't get all fussy 'cause of my pa. Not my fault I ain't got no job."

"Sure is your fault", I huff, throwing myself onto one of the rusty swings. "Coulda gotten a job without him. Don't gotta be a newsie"

"I don't wanna be a digger", He groans, sitting in the mulch, wood chips sticking to his tan pants. "Or a damn shoe-shiner. New Yorkers 'round here don't wash their feet."

I let out a laugh, kicking my feet and swinging up and down. "Maybe I shoulda gone to Albany."

"Ah", He clicks his tongue, tossing a pebble into the grass. "Albany is for the hookers and Negroes."

I don't respond right away. Back in Ohio, we never really had a problem with the Negroes. They weren't talked about, and stayed on their side of town. Personally, I don't mind them. They've never done anything to bother me, or hurt me, so why should I care about it? Still, I've heard that big cities normally kick 'em out cause they can't obey the law. I guess I should be careful around these parts. 

"How come your hair looks so greasy? I think you're usin' too much gel", I change the subject, scraping my feet against the ground and grinding to a stop. 

"It don't look that greasy!", He jumps to his feet, messing with the sticky strands. 

"Grease Ball. That's what I'll call ya"

"But my name's Davie!"

"Your name's Grease Ball 'till ya stop using that god awful gel."

He kicks his foot, wood chips flying towards me, and I let out a hearty laugh. I didn't think I'd make a friend so quickly- he's even rich and can get me a job! Eventually, he starts laughing with me, ruffling up his hair to try and make it look semi-decent. Instead, it just sticks out in every direction, as if gravity doesn't wanna cooperate with his head. 

After a while, the laughter dies down, and the sun starts to set. People are still busy in the streets, chatter echoing throughout the city, but it doesn't bother me much. It's a nice change from Columbus.

"Ah, I gotta run. My ma's gonna kill me if I'm not home for dinner again tonight", He quickly says, watching as the streetlights start to flicker on.  "Meet me here in the morning? I can get ya your job instantly!"

"Sounds like a plan", I smile, and we shake hands, his grip tight and strong. I try to match it, as some kind of competition, but he pulls away. 

"See ya, Alfie!", He waves as he skips away, tossing pebbles into the street. 

I stand there, smiling and waving, then finally drop my arm. It's a bit chilly- I wish I could've arrived in the Summer. Fall comes and goes, but Winter- man, Winter lasts a long time for just one season. I think I have a month or two until snow starts to hit the ground. 

Sighing, I throw myself back onto the swing, and kick my legs, rocking back and forth slowly. The streets start to empty, only night owls and men coming back from work still talking about, and one man starts to head towards me. Ma always told me not to talk to strangers, but everyone here is so social, it's hard not to. 

He doesn't speak to me though. It's hard to see him in the dark, but he stops at the edge of the playground, and then walks away. I spent the next few minutes confused, until sleepiness and fatigue hit me, and I rest my head against the chain. 

Tomorrow's a new day. A better day.