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Huddled Masses

Willow and Tara live happy together in a place untouched by Mutant Enemy. This is a forum for Willow and Tara Fan Fiction (i.e. fan fiction, top 10s, etc...) Please read the content advisories on individual stories, read at your own discretion.

Huddled Masses

Postby ringwaldoeuvre » Sat Apr 16, 2005 3:01 pm

Title: Huddled Masses

Author: ringwaldoeuvre

Disclaimer: “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” is the property of Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, the WB, etc. Any similarity to any book or movie about old New York is purely coincidental.

Rating: R (For violence, abuse, sexuality; will reach NC-17 eventually)

Pairing: W/T, A/X

Summary: AU. Two women meet through the vice-filled nightlife of New York City, 1884. Amid a tableau of cultural diversity and exploitation, they fall in love and face the odds.

Feedback: Is awesome. You can leave it here or reach me at ringwaldoeuvre@yahoo.com. I am not Edith Wharton, nor do I pretend to be.

Notes: This story is to feed one of my main passions - New York City history. I am a big honking nerd, and I don’t care if the whole world wide web knows it. I promise I will continue and finish “The Prisoner,” but I wanted to get this started before my muse skipped town.



***Chapter 1: A Night Out***



Willow Rosenberg held down her hat as a gust of wind blew up Sixth Avenue. She briskly trailed her classmate Buffy Summers as they hopped mud puddles on the way to the Haymarket Dance Hall just below West 30th Street. They were late for their rendezvous with their escorts William Blythe and Daniel Osborne, and as they weaved past the omnibuses, Willow did her best to hold her petticoat above the splashing water.



Her thoughts turned from the events of the school day to the reason they called this area the Tenderloin. It certainly didn’t seem very tender, quite the opposite. Women in garishly colored dresses walked on the arms of men that left little ambiguity about their intentions. Saloons with Ladies Entrances dotted the avenue, and it appeared that the less scandalous establishments, like the groceries, were closing up for the night.



Willow was very excited to attend the dance hall. She had heard tales from her classmates about the humorous comedians, the spectacular jugglers, and the beautiful songs. She also heard about the scandalous activities that went on. Her parents had finally relented and agreed to let her go to the variety show with her friend and escorts as chaperone. Fortunately, her parents thought she was going to Tony Pastor’s in the Bowery. He offered “good, clean” entertainment that was much more appropriate for a girl her age.



The exterior of the Haymarket intimidated her. The bright lights, the beautiful women with even more beautiful dresses lined up to gain admission. There were handsome men with money to spend, the bargirls looking for a dime. Daniel had paid for their admission and took her arm. She felt oddly comfortable with him. He didn’t push for anything, and he knew how to put people at ease.



The four made their way through the throngs to a group of seats on the balcony. William had been very attentive to Buffy from the start. He took care of their coats and pulled out her chair and gave decidedly angry looks at any man that glared at her. William placed a possessive arm across the back of her chair, while Willow sat down next to her. Daniel took the remaining chair and gestured to the barmaid for four beers.



Willow decided to chat up the reticent man to her left. “So, is this your first time here? I guess you may not come her too often, but you do seem to know your way around.”



He shrugged and replied, “I know people. It’s not so hard.”



‘Okay, so much for enlightened conversation,’ she thought as the first act went onstage. A pair of jugglers received applause as they got into their places. Their polished tuxedos were only slightly mussed as they tossed balls and pins into the air. They lit the tips and juggled them back and forth as the audience clapped louder. The jugglers took their bows and exited the stage.



Buffy hands clapped and returned to her lap. She found William’s hands on her knee, and though it was not entirely unpleasant, she did not want him to get the wrong idea. She turned her attention to Willow, who was sitting motionless next to Daniel. “Aren’t you glad we decided to sneak here? This is so wild!”



“Uh, yeah. This is a lot of fun. I just hope my parents don’t find out we came here. I’m very seldom naughty,” the redhead responded.



“Relax, Will. Your reputation as a nun is safe with me. It’s not like you’re going to coax a gentleman into one of those cubicles down there. We’re just here to taste a little bit of the nightlife. Now, let’s see what they have to offer next!”



Willow shrugged and acknowledged that her friend was correct. As long as she got home at a decent hour, her parents would have no way to know she had decided to go to the Haymarket.



The next performer was a singer, a woman. Willow noticed her long blonde hair, her sparkling blue eyes, and her beautiful voice. Notes bled into melodies, which floated up to the balcony where Willow sat in rapt attention. She did not know the name of the song, and she did not care. The woman had a graceful demeanor as she walked around the stage, singing about her home.



The redhead absently wonder where her home was, assuming that it must be some magical place. The blonde gestured up to the balcony with a handkerchief. Her eyes followed, taking in the faces that looked back at her.



Willow noticed that the rest of the audience held their breath as the last notes of the song filtered through the hall. Thunderous applause greeted the singer as she bowed. She smiled once, and Willow could have sworn she was smiling at her. The singer bowed once more and made her exit.



The next performer rolled a cart onstage as his assistant curtsied. The crowd bustled with waitresses, some of them serving drinks and some of them serving something else. Willow looked down at the beer that had been given to her. She had taken one sip and did not know how she could possibly finish the drink.



Her thoughts turned to the singer, and how wonderful she was. She seemed so out of place at this dance hall. Her gentle voice, her lovely face, her smile. Her smile seemed a bit uneven, but nonetheless beautiful.



Buffy’s laugh brought Willow out of her reverie. William had just whispered some joke in her ear, and she couldn’t help but think that both their parents would not approve if they knew what actually happened in these establishments. She glanced over at Daniel, who was casting a suspicious eye at the magician onstage. She sighed, thinking that she might as well try to enjoy herself, and turned her attention back to the performers.



***



“Tara, no more of this ‘hard act to follow’ business! I mean it. You know, some of us have to make a living, too.” Anya’s annoyed tone cut through the din of showgirls preparing for their act.



The blonde smiled as she removed her dress and reached for her next costume. “Sorry, Anya. Besides, I’m sure they’ll be clamoring for more after you show off those legs. Will you fasten my dress?”



Anya exhaled loudly and walked over to her friend. She began fastening the buttons down the back of Tara’s dress and said, “Fine, but only because you do the same for me. I believe in reciprocation and geez lady, you’re tense. what’s up?”



“Uh, nothing. I just, I’m worried about the next number, and I had a long day at the factory. How was your day, anyway?”



“Oh fine, same profits, different day. I swear Xander just isn’t trying to nab the best fish anymore. I sold some real runts today. Either that or getting up at 4:00 a.m. is finally getting to his head. As long as he performs his nightly duty in bed, I suppose I’ll forgive him. Maybe that’s what you need? I could get Xander to find a friend from the fish market. Of course, I couldn’t promise that he wouldn’t smell like oysters.”



Tara smiled and replied, “Thanks, but no thanks. I think I just need to get a good night’s sleep. Now get out there and break a leg!”



The dancer left in a line of girls, and Tara was left alone with her thoughts. She couldn’t wait until the weekend was over and she could have a night off. Her feet were killing her, and she could swear that her hands might never move again. Her fingers ached from her day at the textile factory, and truth be told, that was why she needed help fastening the buttons on her dress.



As tired as she was, she enjoyed this part of her day. She could perform, and be alone with her music for a few minutes, even if hundreds of people were looking. Her thoughts turned to the crowd, and that beautiful redhead in the balcony. She seemed to be with an escort, of course no woman would be in the Haymarket without one. This was one of the venues that allowed women, even though there was much for the moralists to criticize. Tara was glad that she did not need to offer more to the clientele to maintain her employment with the theater.



The dancers had finished their act and returned to the dressing room, and Tara realized she had to go on after the fiddler and his pet monkey. She had decided that a song about Ireland might not be the best thing to do, even though it brought her back to happier times. ‘Perhaps a love song, to keep me company when I get out of this hole,’ she thought. She grabbed the flower prop and made her way to the wings of the stage.



***



The crowd had become more excited as the night wore on. The comedians had created a deafening roar from the audience, and Willow could not help but wish that the blonde singer would come back out and sing another song. Daniel was a perfect gentleman, to a boring degree, and she had finally managed to finish her drink. Buffy and William were playing cat and mouse, and her eyes wandered past the smoke that glowed in the light from the oil lamps.



She had enjoyed the dancers a bit, but she was not having as good a time as Buffy. The redhead noticed a heavily trafficked hallway, with gaudy women and wealthy men filing in and out with satisfied grins on their faces.



The theater owner made a sudden appearance on the stage and cleared his throat. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Back by popular demand, please welcome Tara, the Irish Rose!”



The audience, especially the men, clapped and hollered. Willow’s ears perked up and her attention shifted, from Buffy playing coy and William playing cool, to the woman that graced the stage with her presence. ‘She’s back! And her name is Tara,’ she thought as the blonde took her place on the stage.



The blonde began to sing “Oh Say Can This Be Love,” and the audience fell into a hushed silence. Willow took in the soft curves of the blonde’s dress, and noticed the gentle way her fingers curled around the flower. Tara’s voice danced through the hall, and the redhead shifted her focus to the blonde’s deep blue eyes.



The singer sauntered across the stage, singing about her dreams of love, and she glanced up toward the redhead in the balcony. For a moment, she thought she was flying. The redhead was looking directly at Tara, and her sparkling green eyes pierced through her.



“Hey! Irish... Rose was it? You sing real pretty. Why don’t you throw that flower over this way, beautiful! Hey! Over here!”



Tara looked down to the audience to see a man stumbling toward the stage. The muscular guard came out from the wings as the bartender hopped across the bar toward the man. They struggled to get him to the ground as he shouted, “Hey! C’mon, why don’t you take off your dress!? I’m sure I could make you real happy, how much would it cost?! Hey, let go of me! Get your hands off!”



Tara had backed to the far corner of the stage and the piano player had stopped the song. Gasps rose from the crowd as the drunk man was ejected from the hall. Amid the disruption, another man shouted, “Hey, bring that magician back out here!” Another man responded, “No! Let the lady finish. Why don’t you shut up!”



A brawl erupted. Tara escaped to her dressing room as William and Daniel led Buffy and Willow out of the Haymarket. The owner was grateful that he had hired several burly men to guard the doors. They set to work quelling the hostile customers.



Willow had not realized that the beer had so effected her until she was forced to stand up and exit the theater. She was surprised that her feet carried her all the way out to the street. She clung to Daniel’s arm and asked, “Whoa, can you help me get home? I don’t think I should have had so much beer. How do you keep a steady head? Especially after that singer! Tara! She was wonderful. Like sunshine. Will you help get me home, I don’t think I should have drunken so much beer.”



Daniel threw one arm around her waist to hold her up. He answered, “No problem. You’re on the east side?”



The redhead nodded and draped her arm around his shoulder to keep steady. She noticed that Buffy was not faring much better, but that William was not as courteous as Daniel. The blonde man asked her, “Hey there Buffy, I thought we were going to have a night out on the town? What do we do now? This isn’t right... I guess it wouldn’t be such a good idea to introduce you to mother.”



“Oh William, you seemed so independent and street-smart. Who knew you were such a momma’s boy? Look, I’ll just follow Willow and Daniel back if you’re not going to make sure I get home safe. I wouldn’t want to tarnish your chic bohemian suit,” Buffy replied.



William huffed, “Fine, I mean, of course I’ll get you home, but can we go out some other time? This evening was sort of a bust.”



“How about we go to the park sometime? Next weekend perhaps? I’ve heard it’s beautiful,” Buffy suggested.



William smiled, took her arm and the group started east.



***



Tara tossed the flower on the prop table and raced to the dressing room. Anya shot up from her seat and said, “I told you to quit it! How are we supposed to compare? I haven’t started a fight since 1876, when I got out of Russia.”



The blonde’s smile hid her disappointment. She missed the serene feeling that swept over her when she sang to the redhead in the balcony, and that is exactly what she was doing. She had trained her attention on members of the audience, to be sure, but it had never resonated in such a direct manner. She wanted to connect with that redhead and hear the sound of her voice.



“Sorry, Anya. I’m just as upset than you are. I wish I could have finished that song, it’s one of my favorites. Besides, you had quite a few men worked up after your act,” Tara replied.



The owner burst in and said, “Ugh! No more loves songs from you, Miss Maclay. We’ll have to start calling you “The Voice That Launched a Thousand Bar Brawls!” Now, as much as I like the attention, could you stick to songs about Ireland and our fair city? Thank you, now, I’ll have one of my men make sure you’re not injured on your way out. See you tomorrow night.”



Tara shrugged and said, “Thanks Mike, I’m really sorry about this. I’ll keep it simple from now on.”



“Don’t be sorry, just keep it mellow. Get out of here before they burn this place to the ground,” Mike responded before he walked out of the dressing room.



Anya smacked the blonde on the arm and interjected, “Ha! Maybe I’ll start a brawl next time. You’ll have no recourse but to return to the factory on Orchard Street and marry Richard.”



“I don’t know that I will ever do that, Anya.”



“Like you have a choice? Your hard-to-get attitude may not keep him from getting what he wants. He’s the best manager in the city, and he has his eye on you,” Anya answered.



“He probably has his eye on dozens of women, and I’d be happy to do just what I’m doing now, as long as I can keep a roof over my head,” the blonde said as she wriggled in her costume. “Can you help me out of this dress?”



Anya dragged herself around Tara and began undoing the buttons up the back of the dress. “Well maybe if you let Richard help, you could get a girl to help you with this. Just think about it, Tara. You’re not going to be young and beautiful forever, and this city eats innocence for breakfast. There, all done. Now get out of here before I put you in that thing inside-out.”



Tara smiled and said, “Thanks Anya, I’ll see you tomorrow.”



As Tara put one foot out the door Anya shouted, “And don’t forget, Xander can easily find someone to help you relax!”



***End of Chapter 1***

Edited by: ringwaldoeuvre at: 4/16/05 2:44 pm
ringwaldoeuvre
 


Re: Huddled Masses

Postby Safuega » Sat Apr 16, 2005 5:49 pm

Wow, a story about NYC in the 1800's, pretty interesting concept. I like the title since it pretty much describes the situation of anybody in NYC back then, especially the folks in the area you describe. NYC in the 1800's was a harsh place to be, and violence was the order of the day in places like Hell's Kitchen. You have captured the spirit of the times quite well.



I like that you have made Anya Russian, for some reason I find it strangely fitting. Her personality, and her looks could very well be Russian. Tara, of course, has to be Irish and Willow living in the East Side and being a Rosenberg must be Jewish. Oh boy, given the explosive ethnic and class strife of the time, I dare say that a same-sex romance will be just one of the obstacles facing these two.



I'm not a NYC buff, I've often have wanted to be since I live in NYC, but I'm too busy finishing a career in law to do anything other than read legal briefs and taking the mandatory Kitten Board break. I think I am going to enjoy this story a great deal.



Safuega

Safuega
 


Re: Huddled Masses

Postby tarawhipped » Sun Apr 17, 2005 1:00 am

I love the start of this...you do an excellent job evoking the era. The descriptions of place, the details, the language, all wonderfully rich. It's reminiscent of Tipping the Velvet...Willow in the blacony, Tara with the rose, the posibility of Tara getting a "dresser" (and hmmm...who could that be?). Nice to see another fic from you, and I'll look forward to updates to both.



:peace -Cam



What should I be but just what I am? - Edna St.Vincent Millay

tarawhipped
 


Re: Huddled Masses

Postby sam7777 » Mon Apr 18, 2005 6:33 pm

Great start. I can't say why but I love W/T in a 19th century setting. I've read quite a bit of Wharton and from what I can see you are spot on with New York. That setting certainly has alot of potential angst for our two girls. Can't wait to see what happens next but I forsee alot of :seesaw for :willow and :tara before we see :wtkiss

sam7777
 


Re: Huddled Masses

Postby TaraBaby77 » Mon Apr 18, 2005 8:53 pm

Woooo, I like. Irish Rose, very lovely name. Anyhoo, definitely like the start. Hope to see more soon. Take care. =)

Aaron

'Tarababy77'


"Don't buy into all the media crap. Love yourself for who you are, not what others THINK you should look like. It's DEFINITELY more important in this life to love each other despite our imperfections." - Amber Benson

TaraBaby77
 


Re: Huddled Masses

Postby ringwaldoeuvre » Tue Apr 19, 2005 10:40 pm

All: Thanks for reading. In the interests of getting the next chapter posted sooner rather than later, I will be putting the "fiction" back in fanfic and fudging a few trivial facts. I hope I don't offend any NYC buffs, but my research has not led me to a few minute facts that I need to continue the story. Rather than be nit-picky, I'm just going to go ahead with writing the next chapter. It won't affect the story, and the NYC nerds will be adequately satiated with my excessive use of "The Encyclopedia of NYC" and "Gotham," among other NYC history tomes on my bookshelf. Perhaps I'll set my next story in the 1930's in NYC, just so I can abuse "The Power Broker."





Safuega: Glad the story caught your interest. I wasn't sure if Anya should have been Russian, because she seemed to be Swedish in the S7 episode "Selfless." I wanted to work with an Eastern European character, since the immigration from that region increased dramatically in the 1880's, and it seemed like there was more to use in terms of conflict. You're spot on with the different conflicts in the story. Ethnic/class conflict will also be integral to the story, and I hope to use many characters from the BtVS universe to enable those tensions.



It's okay to not be a NYC buff, but you should really try to learn about the history of our fair city. Should you have the time, "Low Life," by Luc Sante and "Incredible New York," by Lloyd Morris, are fairly comprehensive guides to the vice-ridden world of Old New York. They are somewhat like reading Michael Musto circa 1884, without the sass or Paris Hilton. "The Encyclopedia of New York City," edited by Kenneth Jackson, and "Gotham," by Mike Wallace and Edwin Burrows, are two wonderful books on general New York history. Thanks for reading, there should be a new chapter in a few days.



tarawhipped: Thanks for reading. I was actually very worried about evoking the era through my language, which makes this story much tougher to write than "The Prisoner." I think it will be easier once I get a few chapters out, as I'm now trying to forward the action while catching the gaudy details. It's slow-going, to say the least.



You spotted my homage to "Tipping the Velvet," but I regret to inform you that it was only meant as an homage... nothing more. Still, I'm glad my references were caught by someone. Thanks!



sam7777: The only Wharton I've read is "The Age of Innocence" and "The House of Mirth," but I absolutely loved both. There will be lots of angst, and sexuality is just one of the arenas I hope to use. Thanks for your feedback!



TaraBaby77: Thanks! So many performers had nicknames back then, and I wasn't sure if "Irish Rise" worked. There will be more soon. Thanks for reading.





~ringwaldoeuvre (Mary)

ringwaldoeuvre
 


Re: Huddled Masses

Postby ringwaldoeuvre » Mon Apr 25, 2005 10:23 pm

Title: Huddled Masses
Author: ringwaldoeuvre
Disclaimer: “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Angel” are the property of Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, the WB, etc. Any similarity to any book or movie about old New York is purely coincidental.
Rating: R (For violence, abuse, sexuality; will reach NC-17 eventually)
Pairing: W/T, A/X
Summary: AU. Two women meet through the vice-filled nightlife of New York City, 1884. Amid a tableau of cultural diversity and exploitation, they fall in love and face the odds.
Feedback: Is awesome. You can leave it here or reach me at ringwaldoeuvre@yahoo.com. I am not Edith Wharton, nor do I pretend to be.
Notes: (1) Sorry this reads like a gift from the exposition fairy, but I wanted to get all the players established before the story really get started. (2) Liam O’Shaughnessy (Angel) is based on a real person named Big Tim Sullivan, a Tammany politician and boss. Rupert Giles is very loosely based on the Reverend Charles Parkhurst.

***Chapter 2: School Days***

Tara was glad that she managed to get a few hours sleep before her shift on Monday morning. It was early, but the crowded streets were already bustling with pushcart peddlers and others like her, making their way to their employers. Her tired bones carried her up Pike Street and over to Orchard Street before she slumped at her stool in the garment district. The wages were small, but she could do nothing. Cheap labor was readily available, and she did not dare take her chances with one of the fancier clothiers on Broadway. One look at her surname would be enough to send her back to Mike, begging for a job as a bargirl to supplement her pay in the variety act.

The blonde began operating the loom before her, and she could hardly hear herself think over the noise of the women working beside her. They seemed so spirited, despite the cramped environs of the factory. Hallie’s voice was the only discernible sound one could hear above the humming machines. Though Hallie could be irritatingly cheery, she was glad to hear a familiar language.

Settled into her rhythm, she let her thoughts wander to how life would have been different if her mother had survived the journey across the Atlantic, or if they had never left Ireland in the first place. After her father and brother left for New York City, she and her mother remained in Ireland, waiting for the men to send money to pay for their trip. It had been wonderful spending time alone with her mother, even though they had both been anxious to leave the squalor of County Cork. Her mother seemed so much more alive without the company of the men in the family, which only made her death harder to accept.

Tara winced as her finger was singed on the equipment. She rubbed her eyes, looked through the haze and realized she was leaning too close to the loom. She heard Hallie’s exclamation about one of her darling beaus, and hoped that no one would bother to ask if she had any gentleman callers herself. Perhaps one of the girls from the balcony, or a man that would allow her to pursue her... own interests. She desired a companion, but her father seemed almost as preoccupied with her getting married to a wealthy man as he was with her working two jobs. They made ends meet, especially since her father got a job working the railroad, yet her father seemed obsessed with financial gain after her mother died and Donnie left to go west.

She returned to the loom and considered songs to use in her act. Tara never thought she had the talent to pull off an operetta, yet she knew she was above the burlesque performances that seemed to be all the rage. She hoped her father did not get it into his head that she would be better suited in Harry Hill’s or Bismarck Hall. The only thing keeping her from that life was the thought that Richard Wilkins would make a perfect husband. He wanted a wife with morals, and he knew Tara had virtue to spare.

***

Liam O’Shaughnessy hoisted his feet on top of his desk as he read the headlines of the New York Herald. William R. Grace, Irish Catholic Democrat, had been reelected over Hugh J. Grant. He just hoped that Grace did not interfere with Tammany’s new entertainment ventures on East 14th Street. The decision to pull in Tony Pastor had barely kept them safe from the religious types that would rather see him and their whole operation sink into the East River. Still, he liked Grace, and he was less worried about the success of Tammany Hall as long as they got their man into Gracie Mansion.

The dark Irishman was glad to be back in New York. His trips to Albany were tiresome, but he knew it was important to have a Tammany man in the assembly. He would have preferred to focus his energies on securing the deal with Harrigan and Hart for the spring picnic. The people and properties affiliated with Tammany Hall had secured its place as one of the most powerful organizations in New York City, and even the state. The picnic was integral to their efforts to put the best face forward.

Just as his eyes shifted to the gossip column, a tall man walked into his office. He noticed the uniform straight away, and hopped up to offer his hand in salutation. The officer spoke first, “Liam O’Shaughnessy? I’m Lieutenant Finn. I was hoping I could have a word.”

“Why, certainly officer, have a seat right there. Can I get you a drink? Uh, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“No, thank you. I’ll get right to the point, Mr. O’Shaughnessy. I’ve been assigned with cleaning up the third ward, but certain groups have been uncooperative, and I’d like your help.”

Liam sat back in his chair and responded, “I see. The third ward, you said? How is it that I think I can help you?”

The officer leaned forward, his square jaw set firm and his eyes focused on his fellow Irishman. He stated, “I think you know how you can help me. I want to get rid of the folks that make the neighborhood the rat's nest that it is. The gangs, the concert halls, the immigrants that use their ignorance of the english language as an excuse to sell opium and avoid the law. I’m sure you share my interests.”

“Of course, Lieutenant Finn, but I still don’t know how you expect me to aid your efforts,” Liam replied.

“Simple, get your boys to lay off the streets, and let these people make an honest living.”

“Let me be more clear, Lieutenant Finn. I don’t know how to expect me to aid your efforts. There’s little I can do to help you, especially since you are one of New York’s finest. Sorry to waste your time,” the dark Irishman said.

Lieutenant Finn rose from his chair. “Of course, how could I hope a powerful man like you or your bosses to work with the law on these matters.” Before he walked out, he said, “You’ll be hearing from me again, Mr. O’Shaughnessy.”

Liam tried to return to his newspaper, hoping that John Kelly did not catch wind of his confrontation with the lieutenant. He called out, “Hey Kid!”

Daniel Osborne stuck his head into Liam’s office, “Yeah boss?”

“Keep word of Lieutenant Finn’s visit under wraps until we figure out his game. I want you to follow him and make a note of everyone he talks to. Got it?”

“Sure thing, boss,” the red-haired boy responded.

“Good. Now scram,” Liam said. He was worried. Tammany had power, and a lot of that was due to the so-called “vice” that took place across the city, but the last thing he needed was for the newspapers to paint him as another Boss Tweed. He swung his legs up, combed his hand through his dark hair, and looked out into the shadows of the alley below.

***

Willow spotted Buffy in the far corner, and made her way over to her seat in the classroom. The small wooden desks were nailed to the floor in a way that left narrow aisles for her to navigate. She cringed as she passed Cordelia Chase, a girl that still acted like she lived on her house on Fifth Avenue before her father lost all their money in an unlucky stocks trade.

Despite her unsavory classmate, she was glad her parents let her attend the public school instead of Machazikai Talmud Torah. Her friends, few though they were, attended this school and she did not want to struggle with meeting new people. Buffy was her best friend, and Daniel had always been very reliable. It was a shame he had decided to make a living through his gang’s ties to certain politicians.

There were plenty of German Catholic schools she could attend, but her parents objected to the idea that she subvert her religious beliefs in this land of plenty, especially when there were many educational opportunities for their daughter. Willow loved school back in Germany, had learned english at an early age, and her father was very insistent that she attend secondary school once they moved to New York City.

Her parents were not as conservative as many, yet they maintained that Willow should receive the best possible education. Her father had just accepted a teaching position at New York University, and her mother had been so busy with her labor work that neither noticed their daughter’s male suitors or her unconventional fashion choices. They did not care that she wore pants around the apartment, as long as she wore skirts out in public and did not call attention to herself. They emphasized her academic obligations and even hoped that she could attend a woman’s college.

‘And if I left New York, they probably wouldn’t notice,’ the redhead thought as her teacher, Miss Calendar, walked into the classroom and started the lesson. “Hello class, please put your books under your desk and take out a pencil and a piece of paper. I hope you all studied for today’s geography quiz. Even you, Mr. Blythe. You won’t attend college unless you graduate.”

Willow let out a smile, but noticed that Buffy blushed even as the rest of the class laughed. William had just been admitted to Columbia University, in an effort to stay close to his mother. Buffy had confided in Willow that she liked William, but she was not sure if she could combat for his affections with his mother. They were to go to Central Park the following weekend in William’s carriage, and Buffy did not want to miss a chance to parade through the town.

Miss Calendar finished writing the questions on the chalkboard, and the redhead set herself on the task at hand. She sharpened her pencil and began to write answers on the blank sheet.

***

The sun shone on Xander Harris’ back as he pushed a cart up Water Street to meet his lovely and frugal bride-to-be. She always waited for him in Chatham Square and took his gains from the Fulton Fish Market. After the Brooklyn Bridge had opened, he found himself to be one of the throngs seeking gainful employment at the base of Manhattan. Xander often woke for his job at the fish market just as Anya crept home after a night in her dancing act.

Sitting on a stoop, Anya found that the best way to shirk off a peddler was to turn it around and try to sell them something. She loathed the daily rendezvous with Xander at the southern end of the Bowery, the filth of the streets and the stench of the passersby cemented her dreams of a house in Brooklyn, Queens, or even further out on Long Island.

At the sight of her fiancee, Anya walked to help push the cart of fish. She saw the contents and said, “Much better, Xander. You and I both know that people don’t want to buy those tiny oysters and small haddock. The more money we earn, the sooner we can buy a house and you can start buying me pretty things.”

“And good morning to you too, Anya. You’re looking lovely as always,” Xander replied.

Anya rolled her eyes. “Oh please, there is no time for pleasantries, Mr. Harris. You know we have to get these uptown as soon as possible.”

“I’m feeling fine, and you?”

The woman’s face softened. “I care about how you feel, Xander,” she said with a quick peck on his cheek, “I just don’t want to be late, and we both have more work. C’mon, let me get half of this cart.”

"Thanks, honey. And you know that it's only a matter of time until we get a real cart, and we can start working for the big distributers," Xander responded.

The pair made their way across Canal Street to sell their fish. Two hours later, exhausted, the pair decided to take advantage of the spare time until they had to report to their other jobs that evening. They walked to the river to catch a glimpse of the opportunities that lay across the river.

***

Rupert Giles combed his hair down the side of his head and assured that his books and papers were in order before he set forth to greet the women’s auxiliary. They had called a meeting to discuss their fundraiser banquet for the spring lecture series on temperance and Christian values with his congregation at the Madison Square Presbyterian Church. He tucked his belongings under his arm as he dashed across 23rd Street to Madison Avenue. With one block to spare, he tried to tidy his collar as a passing carriage splashed water on his coat. His papers cascaded to the ground as he stood on the sidewalk, petrified by shock.

“Blast! And I liked that coat,” the preacher shouted. He assembled his books and papers and proceeded to 24th street and rushed into the church building. Six neatly dressed ladies sat round the table in the church meeting room. The most vocal of them, Miss Winifred Burkle, sat at attention when Giles walked through the door.

“Terribly sorry, ladies. I had an unfortunate incident with a carriage on my way here,” he apologized.

Miss Burkle replied, “Not to worry, Mr. Giles, we were just discussing the orchestra for the banquet. Why don’t you take a seat and tell us about your meeting with Councilman McDonnell yesterday. Has he agreed to be the keynote speaker?”

Pulling his chair closer to the table, Giles answered, “Why yes, he’s agreed to greet the banquet attendees. He understands we want the topic to be about the impact of government on the moral fabric of our city, and he’s honored that we requested his presence. Shall me move onto the decorations subcommittee?”

“Of course, Mr. Giles. I’m very excited about our work. Now, Harmony, will you inform the group of your progress?”

Giles let out an anxious breath as the women clattered on until lunch. He was glad that Miss Burkle was ambitious in her efforts to eliminate the corruption in this town, even though he would rather not get involved. It was not until several parishioners declared outrage over the filth of the city’s underworld that he would have bothered with such a righteous battle.

***

Tara finished her ten hour shift just in time to prepare dinner for her father in their apartment on Henry Street. Her father often returned from his job before her, and she would find him sitting in the parlor, smoking a pipe and reading the newspaper. His head would turn up with a expectant gaze, and she would know she should head to the kitchen if she knew what was best.

She pulled out a large pot, filled it with water, and turned on the burner. She peeled, rinsed and cut the potatoes and carrots, then proceeded to cut a few pieces of ham and put them in a pan on the stove. Meat was expensive, but it was one of the few luxuries on which her father insisted. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner usually involved bread, potatoes, carrots, onions, and either ham or chicken. On occasion, one of her coworkers from the garment mill would give her the spices her husband could not sell on the previous day.

The blonde hoped that the Morgans would not mind eating the same thing as last night, but she then remembered that they so rarely made it home at the time that she and her father ate on Monday evenings. The Maclays shared the three-room apartment with the Morgans, another Irish family. Frank and Esther shared a room with their niece Lilah, and the recent vacancy of Holtz family meant that the families barely earned enough to pay rent each month. Her brother had gone west to work on the railroads many years before, and she hoped his return might ease the pressure to work long hours at two jobs.

Tara removed dishes and cutlery from the cabinet by the window. Her eye caught the colors of the clothes drying on lines that zig-zagged across the alley, noting how they flapped in the wind like leaves on a tree. The sun had sunk low enough that only a sliver of light lit up Mr. Madison’s red underwear across the alley. She thought back to the days when she and her mother would prepare dinner together after they finished their laundry, and her chest tightened at the thought that her mother would have enjoyed meeting all the exciting new people in their neighborhood.

The door creaked, signaling John Maclay’s return from work with the elevated railroad. He usually liked to wash the oil off his hands, but his hunger directed him to the kitchen where Tara had just finished dishing a plate for him. She prepared her own plate, they said their prayers, and ate a silent meal.

***

“Mom! Dad! I’m home!” Willow called for her parents as she entered their home on Suffolk Street. Sheila Rosenberg’s attention did not shift from the pile of letters stacked before her, while Ira opened his study door to ask, “Ah, Willow. How was your quiz today?”

“Fine, Dad. I hope I got all the answers right, it was tougher than I anticipated,” the redhead replied.

“Oh, well I’m sure you did, Willow. Listen, I’m in the middle of a translating very difficult passage. We may be German, yet sometimes even I haven’t the foggiest notion of what our philosophers are trying say! Your mother is tied up with her correspondence, but Miss Evans left a pot of stew for dinner. Be sure you eat up and do your homework before bed.”

Willow’s eyes fell to the floor and she answered, “Yes, of course. And Dad? I wanted to ask you something: William, Buffy, and Daniel want to go to Central Park next Sunday. William is using his carriage, may I go?”

Her father let out a small grin and said, “As long as you finish all your homework for the weekend. And do be sure to ask your mother. By the way, is that Osborne boy still enrolled in school?”

Willow lied, “Yeah Dad, and Thanks. Good luck with the heavy thinking.” The redhead turned to take her books to her room. They were a lucky family, and Willow knew it. Her father could afford to rent a whole apartment on his academic salary. She had her own bedroom, and her father even had a private study next to her parents’ bedroom. The parlor faced the front of the building, and the sounds of the street often accompanied the scratch of her mother’s pen as she prepared materials for her labor organization.

The redhead closed her door and flopped on her bed. She considered which school assignment she should complete before dinner, but the night at the Haymarket invaded her thoughts. She wished she could return to the Haymarket every night and see Tara, the “Irish Rose.” The blonde seemed to captivate her audience, yet her performance was one of dozens in the variety act. Willow wondered why she had not been swept up by a managers hungry for profits.

She began her assignments, never noticing that the sun had set and the moonlight crept into her room as the hours wore on. She finished the book for literature class, and just when she considered sleep, the rumble of her belly reminded her to eat. She made her way to the kitchen and ate a solitary bowl of stew before she drifted to sleep.

***End of Chapter 2***
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby GayNow » Mon Apr 25, 2005 10:49 pm

I, for one, happen to like the Exposition Fairy. ;-) It's so nice to have lovely, detailed backgrounds on the setting, the story, and the characters. It makes the tale so rich and vivid. This becomes particularly important when writing a period piece. Detail becomes that much more necessary.

I'm really enjoying the time you are taking with this fic. I really think this is going to develop into an immensly fascinating story. You seem to be setting up a bit of intrigue here, as well. Good on ya!

I shall be interested to see how W and T manage to come together. We've already experienced their first "meeting", as it were. And it's clear that there is an attraction there. But seeing as they are from vastly different worlds, it should be fascinating to see them truly meet and watch their relationship blossom.

Really nice work here. I can't wait to read more. Well done. Kudos! :clap

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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby fun in dysfuntion » Tue Apr 26, 2005 11:29 am

I am awestruck by your ability to create a story where the era is as much a character in the story as the individuals described. I appreciate the multifarious levels that I can enjoy this story. Such a remarkable feat speaks to both your writing ability as well as your expertise in the area.

This is a wonderful update, and I heartily thank the exposition fairy for it.


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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby Tarababy77 » Tue Apr 26, 2005 4:16 pm

Oh my goodness!!! I am so in awe on the way you can take ordinary words and vividly express a whole different era for our two favorite witches. I am also, glad to see an update. I had to read the first chapter again, but I am caught up now. Great work!!! Seriously, great work!!! Please keep updating. Take care. =)
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby Safuega » Tue Apr 26, 2005 7:31 pm

Thanks for the book suggestions. I will have a brief respite in August after I take the bar exam and before I start working, and the books you suggest look like an interest read for my first vacation in three years.

As for the latest update, I just wanted to say that it hit very close to home. You capture the immigrant experience quite well, and reading about Tara's life just breaks my heart. I am also the product of immigration and although life as an immigrant is still hard it not quite as brutal as back then. As I read this update I found myself feeling thankful for those changes because I did not work in a factory but my mom did so I could study like a maniac to go to college on scholarships.

Anyway, sorry for the personal rambling. The update was great and as usual I look forward to more although now I am afraid for Tara. She works in a garment factory and all I can think about is the Triangle Factory Fire. I can't read or watch anything about that horrible incident without crying my eyes out. Also, I can't help but speculate as to whether Mrs. Rosenberg and Tara will come into contact with each other through Mrs. Rosenberg's labor activities. I can totally see Tara in that role. Incidentally, I was also a labor organizer when I was a little younger and had more energy, so you have me hooked on that angle too. :-D

Thanks again for sharing this story.

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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby sam7777 » Wed Apr 27, 2005 1:21 am

I like how you are using the characters. Liam is a perfect fit for a Tamany hall type as is Riley as a policeman. Your descriptions of the immigrant experience both the prejudice, hardship and opportunities that many found in the new world and usually all at once. Glad to see Willow can't get tara off her mind. Now there must be a way for those two to actually meet though I'm really enjoying the setting almost as much. Great stuff.
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby dender456 » Wed Apr 27, 2005 1:17 pm

I really like the way you've incorporated the whole "Irish hate" that happened during that time.
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Feedback Replies

Postby ringwaldoeuvre » Thu Apr 28, 2005 2:21 am

GayNow: I'm so glad that the setting works, and the detail is communicated well. It is my intention to have this be a very "New York" story, and considering that this is taking place in 1884, it means I need to do a lot to establish the basic atmosphere and the character details. I am trying to balance using exposition to reveal the necessary facts against the fun factoids that litter my brain.

W and T's meeting will happen very soon, in that it will happen in the next chapter. I hope to have it up next week, but this story it a bit tempermental. I have a fairly extensive outline, with most of the research done, but I need to be precise with the language, which means it takes a while. It is shaping up to be fairly long, and... hopefully... fascinating. Thanks for the feedback!

fun in dysfuntion: Shucks, "awestruck?" You're very correct that there will be many different levels to this story, both in the use of characters and themes. I'm glad you picked up on the different themes. Whether or not I can translate my outline to the page... is yet to be determined. I appreciate knowing if I'm successful. Thanks!

Tarababy77: Thanks! I will admit I was very worried that I was not writing the era effectively. Glad you liked, and I hope it continues to work. There will be much more, I assure you. Thanks for reading!

Safuega: Hope you like the books, should you ever get to them. A large number of my friends are in law school or have just graduated (an eerily large number, now that I think about it...), and I sympathize with the demands of being a 3L and then slaving away at a firm or think tank or foundation, or wherever you choose to take your law degree. The fun part of having so many friends in the legal profession is that I'll never need to worry if I ever need a lawyer.

I am very glad that the story resonated on a personal level, in the sense that I am glad I was able to take something large - that millions of people have endured in so many generations - and make it personal. That is one of the main things I am hoping to learn to do with this story.

Regarding the Triangle Shirt-Waist Fire, funny story. And by funny, I mean creepy. The main building of my college (which they creatively named "Main Building") was the same building of the Triangle Shirt-Waist Factory. Knowing the history of the structure, and having had countless classes over my undergraduate years, it was quite an experience having Spanish class in a room with with no windows. Thanks for the feedback.

sam7777: Glad you like how I'm using the characters. Once I decided that I wanted to use Tammany, the church, and the police, it was simply a matter of figuring out which characters fit. I hope they continue to work. In my opinion, Tammany is the manifestation of immigrants making the most of their situation: they were disadvantaged, but they outnumbered everybody else. They mobilized immigrant voters and played to their strengths. In my opinion, it's an example of how New York was a microcosm for the American spirit back in the day.

W/T will meet soon, but I assure you that the setting/secondary characters will not diminish. Thanks!

dender456: Word. "Irish hate," indeed. It's sad to think that the world used to be even more racist and discriminatory. The Irish had a real grudge against the British in the 19th century, partly because the oppression that they felt at home followed them to America. Lest I recite my college courses about the Irish being oppressed, I will simply say that I'm glad you appreciate the meaning of Tara being Irish. Thanks for reading.

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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby tarawhipped » Sun May 01, 2005 2:41 pm

Very nice introduction of characters/potential conflict in this update, Mary. I agree with dender, I'm glad you brought up the discrimination against the Irish in this period, which I imagine would be just as big a stumbling block for W/T as class (though I think homosexuality will probably surpass both). This period is one of my favorite in American history...so much going on, and as much as I want new updates daily, I appreciate the detail you've put into it so far, and will sit and wait patiently for more.

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Huddled Masses

Postby ringwaldoeuvre » Wed May 25, 2005 10:50 pm

First, feedback replies and a note:

All: I’ve recently taken a new job. Though it will be very, very rewarding and a whole lot of fun, I will have very, very little time to write. Until mid-September, updates may take a while. However, I am going to be working about 12 hours a day, 6-7 days a week entrenched in the politics of the exact neighborhood about which I am writing. So who knows? I might be so inspired that I’ll finish this story – which is going to be at least 18 chapters long - before “The Prisoner.”

tarawhipped: I am glad I was able to make the setting intriguing. I picked this period for the exact reason you stated: things were so complex and so fascinating, and very unique to the way many cities developed. Word on the Irish hate back then. As I told dender, it’s sad to realize that there used to be even more reasons to discriminate. The Irish response, in the form of political mobilization, is going to be an explicit subplot of this story. As I wrote above, updates will be slow. My limited spare time and the slow pace at which I write means this one could take a while. Thanks so much for the feedback.


Title: Huddled Masses
Author: ringwaldoeuvre
Disclaimer: “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Angel” are the property of Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, the WB, etc. Any similarity to any book or movie about old New York is purely coincidental.
Rating: R (For violence, abuse, sexuality; will reach NC-17 eventually)
Pairing: W/T, A/X
Summary: AU. Two women meet through the vice-filled nightlife of New York City, 1884. Amid a tableau of cultural diversity and exploitation, they fall in love and face the odds.
Feedback: Is awesome. You can leave it here or reach me at ringwaldoeuvre@yahoo.com. I am not Edith Wharton, nor do I pretend to be.
Notes: (1) Tara, Anya, and Xander walked through a wooded area of Central Park known as the Ramble. (2) Special thanks to my shiny new beta, and the start of what will hopefully be a fruitful partnership! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

***Chapter 3: Park Life***

Willow rolled her eyes. “Buffy, I suggest we get back to our assignments. Will you hand me that notebook?”

“But Willow, you must admit that he is handsome. If all goes well tomorrow, I could be Mrs. Buffy Blythe. I, well… I don’t like the sound of it, but I like the idea,” the girl declared as she handed the item to her friend.

Willow sighed and laid the notebook on her desk. The mid-afternoon sun hit her red hair as she took a seat. Buffy resumed her position on Willow’s bed among the books and pencils.

“Don’t worry, Buffy. I’m sure everything will be fine, and your parents already approve of the match,” the redhead replied. “Now, would you mind if we finished before the picnic tomorrow? My parents will certainly not allow me to go to Central Park if our assignments are not complete.”

“Fine, I just hope the carriage is as splendid as William described. That’ll show that biddy Cordelia Chase that the Summers have worth. If I secure William, Dawn will have much better prospects for a husband.”

Forgetting the notebook in her hand, Willow became alarmed. She asked, “Are you saying that neither you nor Dawn will marry for love? Is it not more important to find a person of character?”

Buffy threw her hands in the air, “Certainly not, but would it not be preferable to elevate our status? I am as much of a romantic as the next girl, but I know we are worth more. My mother spent so much moneyas a patron of the arts, we were left with nothing when my father left for Spain. I swore I would not be as vulnerable, and I also swore that I would ensure the best for Dawn. And, now that you have ruined my spirits, let’s complete this math set.”

The girls set their attention to the numbers on the pages before them, and they worked into the evening.

***

“Tara? Come in here,” the man boomed. Tara peeked her head out of their room before she made her way to the kitchen, where John Maclay sat. She wrapped her hands behind her back and replied, “Yes, sir?”

Her father threw a pile of papers to the table and said, “I’ve been looking at these figures, Tara, and I’ve made a decision. We need your brother back here, or we’ll never be able to get out of this pit. A friend on the railroad just told me he’s living in St. Louis, and I’m going to go get him. This means that you need to go to work at Harry Hill’s.”

Tara wilted under her father’s stern gaze. “H-harry Hill’s, sir? But, isn’t that a place for... you know who? My singing won’t really go over well in a place like that.”

She saw the glint in her father’s eye as he replied, “Well my dear, you don’t seem to understand what I am getting at. The game is simple: you sing a song or two, impress some of the wealthier gentlemen, and sucker them into buying drinks while I, or a trusted barman, lift their wallet. Trust me, you won’t have to drink anything stiffer than watered down whiskey or colored water, I’ll make sure of it. I still want you to get married, Tara. We can’t have you getting mixed up as a streetwalker.”

The blonde paled at the thought of her father’s demand. She had heard about the things that happened at Harry Hill’s Concert Saloonbut did not want to consider the gruesome alternatives, so simply asked, “When?”

“Next Friday. I’ve already spoken to Harry, and it will only be until we get enough money to cover my trip. After I leave, you go back to the Haymarket. Speaking of which, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

Tara nodded, slipped into her jacket, and walked through the dim hallway into the night air. ‘The one consolation,’ she thought, ‘is that maybe this new occupation will ensure that I won’t have to marry a man.’

***

Buffy’s voice rang through the brisk air, “William! Slow down! You will be the death of us!”

William teased, “What’s the matter, afraid of a little speed?”

Willow gasped, “I’m afraid I agree with Buffy. Daniel? What have you to say?”

“Better slow it down,” he stated.

William pulled back on the reins and brought the horses to a slow trot. He sneered, “Better? Or shall I have a pair of fuzzy kittens take us through the park?”

Buffy snapped, “For goodness’ sake, William! You know as well as I that such speeds are not permitted.” She realized her tone would not soften William’s temperament and cooed, “Now, why don’t you pull over by the Lake, and we’ll have our picnic?”

The man relented, “Fine, but let’s get a nice spot in the shade, eh?”

The four gathered the baskets and blankets from the trunk of the carriage and wandered to the base of a tall pin oak tree. Their eyes glistened from the shimmering lake and the array of people strolling along the winding paths. Rowboats sprinkled the surface of the lake, as young men brandished the oars and ladies with lace umbrellas shielded themselves from the sun and the prying eyes of their chaperones. A pair of children dashed by, almost causing Willow to drop her basket.

Daniel and William spread the crimson blanket over the grass and secured the corners with their baskets. Willow and Buffy began to lay the sandwiches and cakes out for consumption. Before long, the four were idly chatting between bites. A gentle wind flowed through Willow’s hair as she turned her attention to the lake.

***

Tara, Anya, and Xander exited the row house. Anya put her hands on her hips and sharply asked, “Why didn’t you tell me you didn’t know how to row a boat, Xander?”

Xander cast his eyes to the ground and shrugged his shoulders, “I, ah, well, ah… it’s not like I get the chance to row a boat everyday, Anya. Did you expect me to row down South Street on my way to work? I barely set foot on the boats as it is.”

“Well, it’s a good thing Tara was there,” the Russian answered. Turning to the blonde she inquired, “So, how did you know how to row, anyway?”

“There was a pond by our farm. The Sullivans would let my family use their boat,” Tara replied. Hoping to change the subject, she proposed, “Shall we walk about the lake?”

Anya and Xander nodded, and the three set off on the path. Anya took Xander’s arm as they wound around the lake, and the woman sighed with happiness. It was not long ago when wealth and poverty were forbidden to mingle in such a public space.

As they entered a thick patch of forest, the sun hid behind the canopy of leaves overhead. Tara barely made out a formation of birds fly overhead, and she was glad they could go to the park before the birds migrated south for the winter.

Anya’s voice pierced the hum of nature. “I am so glad we could do this. Hey Tara, why don’t we work a song about Central Park into the act? You and me, we could do it together. My gams, your voice, it’ll be a smash!”

Tara released a slight frown, looked at her friend and responded, “Uh, yeah… Anya? I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“Why not?! We’ll talk to Mike. I’m sure he’ll allow it, and if not, I’ll have my manly boyfriend teach him a lesson.”

“No, Anya, see… I am going to have to cut back my nights at the Haymarket. My father, he… needs me,” Tara ended with a shiver. She hesitated and added, “He has sent me to work at Harry Hill’s.”

“What!” Her friends were in hysterics, and between Xander’s exclamations and Anya’s ranting, she barely managed to insert, “It’s only temporary. My father needs money to go to St. Louis to retrieve Donnie.”

Anya screeched, “No! You can’t! You know the type of girls that work there, and you know that it could hurt your chances with Richard, not to mention the fact that it could get you arrested. Tara! You cannot do it. I forbid it. As your friend, I will not allow it.”

“As comforting as that is, I don’t really have a choice. If my father can get Donnie to come back, I can focus on singing and quit the factory. Isn’t that worthwhile?”

“Listen to me, girl. You keep what happens in Harry Hill’s out in the open. Do not allow anyone to take you somewhere alone. You hear me? Do not let it happen,” Xander insisted.

Tara let a smile play across her lips, “I know. And I thank you. I know you two care. Please… I can’t fight this, please trust that I will not let anything bad happen.”

With her friends appeased, Tara continued on the path. The growth on the forest floor rolled like a plush green carpet. They enjoyed the seclusion and the quiet until they emerged near the park drive. They made their way south, hoping to find the zoo. The trio approached a group of picnickers, and Tara overheard a blonde speak to her friend, “Hey Willow, isn’t that the singer from the Haymarket?”

***

“And so, my fellow parishioners, we must expunge this menace to society! We must cleanse our souls and remove temptation. Women expose themselves, and men gamble their fortunes! We cannot allow these vices to permeate our spirit, to corrupt our faith. You must look within yourselves and call upon what you know to be good and right. Do not succumb to their lure, do not forget your virtue!”

The mass ended, and the faithful began to file out of the pews. Reverend Giles retired to his office to disrobe and prepare for the afternoon meeting with Councilman McDonnell. He sat at his desk and opened his journal as a figure burst through the door.

“So, was that your idea of proselytizing, or was it a warning? Think you’ve got those people wrapped around your finger, don’t you.”

The preacher turned his head to the intruder. He jeered, “And what do you want, Mr. O’Shaughnessy?”

Liam grinned, “Simple. I want you to call off this battle against me and mine while we still have our dignity. Wouldn’t that be for the best?”

“I hardly think you are in a position to say what is best, Mr. O’Shaughnessy. Why don’t you take your leave and, um, take a bible while you’re at it?”

The Irishman crossed his arms and sighed, “Funny how you think a bible is the only thing one needs for salvation. You can stand on any pedestal you want, we’ll still be here. I, and everyone that takes my place, will be here. You can’t just call us ‘evil’ and hope we’ll go away.”

Giles stood from his desk and walked to face the man. “It’s not what I think, Mr. O’Shaughnessy. It’s what God thinks. And right now, I would say that you should leave.”

Liam smirked, shifted to the door, and said, “We’ll see each other again.”

***

The redhead lifted her head, “Where?”

Tara’s ears perked at the mention of the Haymarket, and her blue eyes connected with a girl sitting on a blanket near the lake. She could barely make out her red hair under the shade of the tree.

Buffy exclaimed, “It’s that singer, and isn’t that one of the dancers?”

All eyes turned to Tara as Daniel, William, and Willow realized they were faced with the entertainers from the previous weekend. Anya gave a weak smile and curtsied. Xander stood by, ignorant of the thoughts of those around him.

Daniel gently waved as Willow shot to her feet. She extended her hand to Tara and offered, “Hi! I’m Willow. Don’t you sing at the Haymarket? Or, maybe it wasn’t you. Was that some other woman with a beautiful voice?”

Tara’s ducked her flushed face and accepted the hand offered to her. The blonde fixed her eyes on the girl before her. She had fierce red hair and a smile that made her green eyes sparkle. Tara turned her head up to connect her blue eyes with the girl before her, and she felt her lips tug into a smile.

Anya rolled her eyes, “Of course, Tara gets noticed, and we chorus girls practically break our necks for nothing.”

Tara shook her head and remembered her companions. “Oh… uh, right. These are my friends, Anya and Xander. And I’m Tara.”

“I know,” the redhead replied, before she hastened to add, “Er, that is, I remember. These are my friends, Buffy, Daniel, and William.”

The group exchanged pleasantries while Willow cast her eyes up and down the blonde. She felt an unfamiliar stir in her chest as she caught the soft features and kind expression that Tara wore. She felt drawn to the other girl, even more than when she had glimpsed the blonde on the stage of the Haymarket.

William cleared his throat and declared, “I do believe that it is time for our carriage ride. Shall we?”

Daniel announced, “I actually have to get downtown to meet with the boss. He told me to get there when church services finished, and it’s about that time.”

Willow made her disappointment obvious when she replied, “What!? Is this for your gang? I thought you were going to try to get out of that and come back to school, Daniel.”

Tara, Xander and Anya tried to ignore the awkward conversation as Daniel replied, “Yeah, well, things change. I’m going to catch the elevated train back downtown. William, Buffy, Willow, it was fun. Tara, Anya, Xander, nice to meet you. If you’ll excuse me.”

The boy took a slight bow and departed. Willow glanced at Buffy, who seemed to encourage her to follow suit. Tara caught the exchange and offered, “Uh Willow, would you like to come with us? We were going to walk down toward the zoo, and you could rejoin your friends later in the afternoon? When they’ve finished their carriage ride?”

Willow’s eyes lit up at the prospect of spending time with the blonde beauty. Her frustration at Daniel’s departure was suddenly replaced by anticipation and joy. She could not guess why a wonderful singer like Tara would want to spend time with her, but she was excited to do so. She caught the pleased look on Buffy’s face and guessed that her friend would prefer her privacy with William.

She nodded, and she made arrangements to meet Buffy and William along Fifth Avenue, near the entrance to the park. The couple made their way to the carriage, and the remaining group set forth toward Bethesda Fountain. The open plaza served as a reminder that the park was a design of man, yet its simple magnificence flowed with the natural order of the space.

Tara glanced up at the angel atop the fountain. She marveled at the serene expression, and as she began to feel a touch of that calm, she heard Willow speak. “It’s the Angel of the Waters. My parents brought me here when I was a little girl, fresh off the boat from Germany.”

Tara examined her companion. She was gorgeous;that much was plain. There was something more, as if the girl brimmed with vitality, waiting to burst. To the blonde’s satisfaction, she also seemed very much interested in spending time together. She hoped to limit the conversation to light topics and wanted to avoid discussion of her family and her profession. Realizing she had yet to respond, she stated, “It’s beautiful. So, are those your friends from school?”

“Yeah, Buffy and William go to my school. Daniel, he, well he used to go to school. Seems the world of politics is more appealing.”

Tara again noticed the girl’s disappointment. She pressed, “You’re close to Daniel, aren’t you?”

Willow nodded and said, “Yeah, we are. At least, we used to be.”

“So you’re going together?”

“Going where?”

The blonde laughed, “I mean, you’re romantically involved?”

“With Daniel? Oh no, he’s just an old friend. Met him when I first arrived in America, and he’s been like a brother to me. He escorts me places around town, since my parents are a bit protective, especially since we moved to New York City,” Willow replied.

“Uh, how long have you lived in America? I can hardly tell you’re an immigrant.”

“Ten years, and my parents had insisted on teaching me English from a young age. When my father took a post with the university, it was not very difficult to adapt. I lost my accent by the time I started secondary school,” the redhead answered. She cast a look at the blonde and decided to be bold, “What about you? Are you really from Ireland? What do you do when you’re not singing? Do you go to school? What is your family like?”

Tara felt the blush creep down her neck. ‘So much for that plan,’ she thought. She decided to answer in vague terms, “Yes, I am from Ireland. I work in a factory. My family is spread out.”

Willow scolded herself. She was always inquisitive, and it was clear that the other girl did not want to discuss her past. The redhead hoped to learn more about Tara and tried to put her at ease. She curbed her curiosity and replied, “So you are from Ireland. That, uh, must be nice.”

The blonde chuckled, “Yeah, if you call being forced to live in a hole ‘nice.’” She immediately regretted the words as they passed through her lips, and she added, “Ireland is beautiful, and I miss it. America is… different. There are more opportunities, but I am hardly in a position to avail myself of them. I work in the garment district, and I sing.”

Anya took the occasion to enter into their dialogue, “Yeah, for now. If I could give your father a piece of my mind… boy, he wouldn’t even think of sending you into a place like Harry-“

Xander closed his hand over his fiancée’s mouth. The grateful look from Tara confirmed his guess that she did not want Willow to know her personal history. Willow stood by, oblivious to the heightened tension.

“Harry’s? I don’t think I’ve heard of a place called Harry’s. Of course, last weekend was the first time my parents let me go out on the town, so my knowledge of the nightlife is small. It was a great first time; you were great. You were both, uh, great,” the redhead ended with a mutter. She suddenly regretted joining Tara and her friends. Crippled by her clumsy social skills, she realized she was not making a good impression on the beautiful blonde.

She could not determine why she hoped to earn Tara’s good opinion, but she knew that she hoped to see her some time after their afternoon stroll. In a new wave of energy, she suggested, “Shall we go through there and go past the Mall? I’ve heard there might actually still be sheep out on the Sheep Meadow. Might be fun.”

Tara felt the girl’s enthusiasm permeate her cloudy mood. “Yes, let’s. Shall we?” She gently smiled and offered her arm to the redhead. Willow wove their arms together as Anya and Xander led the way through a tiled underpass. The image of carriages and figures coursing overhead was the last thing Tara glimpsed as they walked south.

***

The cavalcade streamed along the park drive. Attractive teams of horses pulled grand carriages past the colorful foliage. The feathered hats of distinguished women were more prominent than the birds that flew through the air.

William cracked the whip, hoping the horses would increase their pace and bring the afternoon to a speedy close. He liked Buffy, but the girl struck him as markedly eager. Her friends left much to desire, and her family was barely respectable. She was tantalizing, yet her conduct that afternoon had cemented his opinion. He could never take her home to mother.

Buffy gripped his arm and shrieked, “This is great fun, William. Thank you for taking us to the park. Why don’t we slow down and enjoy the scenery?”

The boy grimaced and fulfilled the girl’s request. It was almost time to rendezvous with Willow, and he lamented the decision to allow the girl to run off with those entertainers. That was one more reason to distance himself from Buffy and her friends.

His exaggerated whip movements shook Buffy’s hand from his arm. He sensed her frown and stated, “Sorry, just a little frustrated with the horses. I’ll have my man re-shoe them when I return to the stable.”

The girl shrugged. She sensed that the boy was unhappy about something, so she asked, “Is something else wrong, William?”

He scowled, acknowledging that he would have to tell her the truth eventually. He pulled the reins and brought the horses to a slow gallop. “Well, honestly, Buffy,” he began, “things have been different. I’ve been thinking that we won’t be able to have any more of these afternoon adventures, for one.”

Buffy crinkled her brow, slowly grasping what William intimated. She whispered, “What are you trying to say?”

William sighed, “It’s just… Buffy, I, that is to say, you and I – we – are not going to work. I’ll be starting university soon, and you’ll be hoping to marry. And mother, well, mother would not approve.”

“So, you do what mother wants? What mother would like?” Buffy held her tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, Buffy, but it’s just the way I feel. I wanted to be honest with you,” the boy murmured.

The pair concluded the carriage ride in silence.

***

“So, uh, you like singing?” Willow decided to broach an easy topic as they resurfaced into the sun’s glare.

Tara smiled, “I love it. It’s an escape, and as long as my father and I can pay rent, I thank my lucky stars that I can earn money doing something I love.”

Willow smiled, “That’s good for you. I wish I knew what I wanted to do.”

“You will,” Tara replied, certain that the redhead was intelligent. “You are in school, after all.”

“Yes, my parents insist on it. I go to one of the better high schools in the city, and they even want me to go to college. I don’t think they really care how; they just want me to follow in their footsteps.”

The blonde took in the information and instantly felt mediocre. “That’s, uh, that’s nice. Do you like school?”

“Oh, I love school!” the redhead exclaimed. She sensed Tara’s discomfort and continued, “I just wish I knew what to do. You seem to have things figured out.”

“Not exactly, my life is sort of a… work in progress. I work in a lousy factory, I sing silly songs, and I’m about to start hustling at Harry Hill’s. The sad part is that it is entirely possible that I may sink lower,” the blonde stated.

“Harry Hill’s? So that’s where you’re going to sing? I’ll have to come see you!”

Tara envied the girl’s naiveté. She answered, “It wouldn’t be such a good idea. It’s mostly a gentlemen’s establishment, and the women that do work there have one purpose. They want to squeeze every last penny out of the clientele.” She paused, realized her mistake, and said, “And, I can’t believe I just told you that.”

Willow detected Tara’s trepidation and supplied, “Well, I just hope I can see you sing somewhere. Will you return to the Haymarket? And, have I mentioned how beautiful you are, I mean, how beautiful your voice is?”

The blonde recognized the familiar blush spread across her cheeks. Her experience in various concert halls taught her that there were women who associated with other women, and she was fairly certain she never fancied any of the men that sought her attention. Willow sparked strange feelings. She was excited, yet scared out of her wits. She smiled and asked, “Shall we take a turn about the meadow?”

Willow nodded, grinned, and clutched Tara’s arm. They agreed to meet Anya and Xander back at the band shell and turned west. The plush grass spread out like a sea of green, and Tara noticed it brought out the color of Willow’s eyes. Hoping to be discreet about her feelings, she moved to a new topic, “Do you come to the park often?”

“My parents used to take me here as a girl, but they have become somewhat preoccupied in recent years,” Willow responded. “What about you, do you come often?”

“Only when the weather is fit, and I have good company. I should like to come more, but I am frequently detained. It would be lovely to be able to come to the park or to have more time to read,” the blonde said.

Willow skipped ahead, turned on her heel and grabbed Tara’s hands, “You read? I love to read! At least, when I don’t have school assignments… what do you like to read? What is your favorite book?”

Tara smirked, “I’ve been quite taken by various volumes of poetry. Especially Whitman. M-my mother told me he used to live in Brooklyn, just across the river.”

“He did! And wow, I would love to talk about literature with you. But, I think your friends might expect us soon,” the redhead answered.

Circling back toward the band shell, Willow and Tara heard the sound of distant minstrels and the laughter of children as they ran between the trees. They glimpsed Anya and Xander seated at the base of a tree. The group reunited, and they took a quick walk through the zoo.

The four emerged along Fifth Avenue; each astonished at the sight of real monkeys and tigers. She turned to offer her thanks to Tara, offering, “Well, I hope to see you some other time, Tara. Nice to meet you all.”

Anya and Xander smiled in response. Tara bowed and replied, “Next time you’re at the Haymarket, don’t be a stranger. Nice to meet you, Willow.”

William’s carriage rolled up to the curb, and Willow immediately noticed Buffy’s crestfallen face. The redhead climbed into the carriage and waved to Tara as William cracked the whip.

***

“Sorry I’m late, boss. I had a thing,” Daniel announced as he rushed into the office on 14th Street.

“I needed you hours ago, kid. My encounter with the good Reverend didn’t exactly go as planned,” Liam hissed. “Now, what can you tell me about Mr. Finn?”

“Looks like the Lieutenant is hoping to make some waves, boss. He’s been meeting with councilmen, priests, anyone who will listen. Here’s the list I made,” the boy set the paper down on the Irishman’s desk. Liam took up the sheet and cast his eyes to the names on the page.

“Good work, Danny Boy. Remember, you and your gang need to watch your backs. The stakes are high, and I don’t aim to lose.”

***End of Chapter 3***
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby GayNow » Thu May 26, 2005 10:47 am

Wow! I got first reply and I didn't even have to say, "DIBS!" :D

First of all, congratulations on your new job. Best of luck to you!

It is shaping up to be fairly long, and... hopefully... fascinating.


Oh I'm all about long fics! So YAY for long! As for fascinating, you've got that working for you already.

I need to be precise with the language, which means it takes a while.


Do take your time, Mary. I revel in your words as I read them...they are definitely worth the wait.

On to feedback for Chapter 3:

I'm so thoroughly enjoying this stroy. As before I'm completely captivated by the detail you're providing us. I appreciate your consistency. I never feel as though I'm being pulled out of the story's setting. While you've established and maintained the fundamental characteristics of Willow, Tara and the others, you make sure that their dialogue is appropriate for the time period and their own situations. It is this attention to detail that makes me lose myself in a story -- and I am happily lost in "Huddled Masses". The interaction and atrraction between Willow and Tara is very lovely. I can't wait to experience more of this. Conversations about literature in the park? How delightful! Please say we'll get to read about this! :flirt

This was a wonderful update, Mary. As always, I'm looking forward to more.

Carleen
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Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested. --Francis Bacon, Essay~~Of Studies
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby cooper » Thu May 26, 2005 6:34 pm

I got all excited when I saw there was an update and as I was scrolling down, I noticed that I had not commented on this story before. Sorry.

Anyway, its amazing. I love love love the characterizations of all of them. Willow seems so eager to please and impress much like early Willow to the point that she would mention going to Harry's to see Tara.

The Tara/Dad dynamic feels yucky which means its right on. He feels more domineering and verbally controlling than physical which can often times be scarier.

And William with Mothers wishes!

Anyway, I love it and good luck with your job where you get to work in this neighborhood. With it being long hours and political, I am wondering what type of job it is also. I have had a few friends that worked for Acorn that was a political org that organized neighborhoods on issues that meant something for them. Is it similar or am I way off base?

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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby sam7777 » Fri May 27, 2005 6:23 pm

Congrats on the new job. Sounds like you will be able to make a difference in your community tomake the hard work worthwhile.

The William/Buffy thing is spot on for the social mores of the Day. I like the way you are doing Willow and Tara's attraction. Definite sparkage but exciting and scary for them. Tara ia more worldly than Willow but that Harry Hill’s place is sure to be a bad scene. I supect that things will get worse when Donnie arrives given what her father is like. Daniel is hooking up with bad company. It'll be interesting to see on the Liam/Daniel stuff play into their lives.
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feedback replies

Postby ringwaldoeuvre » Wed Jun 01, 2005 10:50 pm

GayNow: Carleen, I am glad to be one of your long list of "dibs!" Regarding the job, thanks. Not only does it take a while to feel comfortable with each chapter, but I have had NO time to write your second fic challenge in the last week. Seriously. I have the outline and one paragraph, and I have had NO time. Still, I wouldn't have it any other way. I love the campaign lifestyle.

I am glad to know I maintained interest. This chapter was a bit lighter than the previous chapters, and I was worried it would seem inconsistent. In an effort to maintain consistency, I have planned out the entire story. I don't write a chapter until I know exactly where I am going with it. The story is going to be at least 18 chapters, and the chapters only get longer... thus my comment that it will be a long story. Yet with my great new beta and the field work I will be doing, I am excited to continue the story. There will be more, even if it is just an exercise to improve my writing. Thanks for the feedback!

cooper: I love all feedback, at any time. Thank you! I was worried the characterizations wouldn't work in the era, so I am glad to hear that it works. I am trying to learn to write the characters while still engaging the reader. You are spot on with what I am trying to do with the Tara/Dad relationship. I find that psychological/emotional tension has a deep impact, which means I am all about it.

The job is political, but it is with a campaign for a candidate for the Manhattan Borough President Democratic primary. I am familiar with ACORN, however, through the campaign work I did for America Coming Together (ACT) in Ohio. Community organizing is my dream, and doing field work in the Lower East Side/TriBeCa/East Village area is perfect for me. I know and love New York, and have been working with communities/politics for a long while. I'm jazzed. Thanks!

sam7777: Thanks! If we win, I am fairly certain that I will get a real shot at working with neighborhoods and communities. I'm excited.

The Daniel/Liam storyline is going to have a complex role in the Willow/Tara storyline. I'm trying to make it so that nothing is black and white, including the Tara/Willow relationship. Short of telling you what happens, I can only say you'll see what I mean. The sparkage is essential to the way the story unfolds, which means that I am very glad I can write sparkage. Thanks for the feedback!
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby tarawhipped » Sat Jun 04, 2005 5:13 pm

No worries on time between updates, Mary...so far each one has been so well crafted, and if that means I have to wait, I'm happy to. I love all of the class distinctions you show here...that's it's not as simple as upper and lower, but that there are many degrees of both. William is perfect as the snobby Mama's boy who thinks Buffy is unacceptible and is appalled by Willow consorting with entertainers (oh the horror!). Willow's naivete is a nice contrast...she just sees someone interesting and that she's drawn to (even if she doesn't quite recognize why). Tara's understanding of the system will probably make her far more hesitant to adopt a friendship with Willow out of concern for Willow's station, not being aware that Willow doesn't really care about those things (at least, not yet...once her parents get word of who she's spending time with, I can see all kinds of bad scenarios).

I really like how you're balancing the diverse elements of the story, and gradually beginning to work the political subplots into the main storyline. While Daniel seems to be the only connection so far, I have the feeling it's going to get much more involved once Tara's at Harry Hill's and Donny's back. Wonderful story, and I'm looking forward to more.

-Cam
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby Artemis » Thu Jun 16, 2005 1:19 am

I finally caught up - I wish I'd read this earlier. Your passion for New York history really comes through. Not that I know much about it, but it feels very genuine, it has that sense of reality that I love in, among others, Flashman novels. Willow, Tara and the others are very nicely drawn characters too, products of their time, yet each true to their nature as we know them. Great work :bow

Congrats on the new job too :clap I'll be waiting patiently for the next update, however long it takes to arrive. I get the feeling a fight is brewing between the city's 'pure' class and its huddled masses, so to speak, and Tara seems to be on course to get caught in the middle of it.
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby ringwaldoeuvre » Tue Jul 12, 2005 8:29 pm

First, a couple of feedback replies.

tarawhipped: I am so glad I can convey some of the complexity that I have in my head. My biggest fear is that I won’t be able to translate all my bizarre knowledge about NYC politics and class struggles into a fiction, and this whole thing will go over everybody’s head. This chapter is somewhat more insular, insofar as interaction with supporting characters. Willow’s naiveté will be somewhat short-lived, and the beginning of that will start with this chapter.

The last of the political foreshadowing happens in this chapter. After this, more dots will be connected and you will see where I am going with the story. Your feeling about the course of the sub-plot is fairly accurate, but you’ll see that there are a few surprises. Thanks so much, Cam!

Artemis: Thanks for reading, whenever you get around to it! This fic is more of a challenge to my creative abilities, yet the research end of it is cake. I have an overwhelming amount of useless knowledge about NYC in my head, and I figured I should use it for something. I am not familiar with the Flashman novels. Enlighten me?

About the job, thanks! While I love it, and it is ridiculous relevant to this story, it leaves me exhausted at the end of every long day. I work every day (not kidding) and am usually too tired to think EVEN MORE about the masses of people that are being screwed by the system. You are spot on with the basic trajectory of the story, I just hope I can deliver. Thanks for reading!


Title: Huddled Masses
Author: ringwaldoeuvre
Disclaimer: “Buffy the Vampire Slayer” and “Angel” are the property of Mutant Enemy, 20th Century Fox, the WB, etc. Any similarity to any book or movie about old New York is purely coincidental.
Rating: R (For violence, abuse, sexuality; will reach NC-17 eventually)
Pairing: W/T, A/X
Summary: AU. Two women meet through the vice-filled nightlife of New York City, 1884. Amid a tableau of cultural diversity and exploitation, they fall in love and face the odds.
Feedback: Is awesome. You can leave it here or reach me at ringwaldoeuvre@yahoo.com. I am not Edith Wharton, nor do I pretend to be.
Notes: (1) This chapter is dedicated to the closing of the Fulton Fish Market. It shaped a neighborhood, and created a, uh, charming smell that wafted into my room 24 floors up from Water St. back when I lived in the financial district. It was a city institution, and after 170 years, it is no more. Sigh. (2) Again, thanks to Teddy, my fabulous beta! You rock the casbah.

***Chapter 4: Behind the Curtain***

John Maclay’s voice bounced off the walls of the apartment, “Very nice, Tara. You look very nice.”

Tara wanted nothing more than a thick shawl to cover her chest. Her father seemed satisfied with her appearance, yet she suddenly craved the awkward clothing of her childhood. Her mother was never a particularly devout Catholic, yet she still insisted that Tara dress with modesty.

Lilah emerged from her room and caught sight of Tara on her way to the kitchen. “Well, looks like someone is changing professions. I never thought that factory thing was for you, Tara. I take it some theater has come to appreciate your, shall we say, talent?”

“Frank, why don’t you get your daughter into the kitchen where she belongs. She must have chores,” John blared.

The tall man in the corner lifted his head and replied, “I don’t meddle in your affairs, John. Now stay out of mine. Lilah, don’t you have somewhere to be?”

The tall brunette rolled her eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Gee, if I didn’t have a prior engagement, I would love to catch your act. ‘Cept, wait… would they let little ole me in?”

As Lilah left the apartment, Tara could feel her grin all the way out the door and down the dark stairwell. Her chest tightened at the thought of what awaited her at Harry Hill’s, yet she shuddered to think of how her father would react to disobedience. As her father and Frank Morgan continued to squabble in the dim light of their dwelling, she stared into the flame of a nearby candle.

***

Willow looked down at the clothing on her bed. A pair of brown slacks seemed to threaten the pale green dress that lay across the spread. She hoped her parents would not return before she left the apartment for the evening. If they caught her in male clothing, she would surely receive a severe punishment.

She marveled at her parents’ easy concession. Her father barely glanced up from his book to give permission to go out with Buffy that evening. He ensured that her assignments were complete and reminded her that the Radcliffe application had arrived in the mail. Of course, her father did not know that she had no plans to meet Buffy, William, Daniel, or anyone else except Tara.

Tara. She could not help thinking about the blonde from the park. The girl fascinated Willow, and it was not until her studies barely held her attention that she realized she simply had to go see Tara sing again. She remembered Anya’s mention of the clientele, and Daniel confirmed that Harry Hill’s was not an establishment for unattached young ladies.

She furrowed her brow and exhaled loudly as she threw her legs into the pants. She closed the last button on her shirt, tightened the tie, and threw on the jacket. Her red hair was folded up into the cap Daniel had loaned her.

Willow took a last glance at herself in the mirror. She felt strangely comfortable as her male visage looked back at her. She turned off the lights, locked the door, and made her way to the show.

***

The blonde tightened her garter belt and straightened her hat. Purple feathers billowed from the top of her head. She applied the last touches on her make-up before she rose from her dressing table and waited in the wings.

Tara ducked her head through a slit in the curtain. The comedian onstage seemed like a walrus in a tuxedo, yet the crowd laughed uproariously at every prank. According to the manager, she was to sing next. It was all part of the rouse, a way to get the men on the floor to welcome her to their table. She recalled her father’s saying, “Pretty girls with pretty voices catch the best men.”

Her eye caught the familiar shape of her father as he sat at the bar. She shivered at the thought of the night before her. She did not like the idea of men touching her under any circumstance, and she hoped that her father would quickly end the evening’s business. At least, she could still sing.

***

The redhead held her breath as she walked into the Men’s entrance. Not a single person stopped her, and she shoved her shaking hands into her jacket pockets as she noted her surroundings. Hundreds of candles hung from iron chandeliers, their dust clearly visible from her position on the floor. Three bartenders stood behind the bar, their shirts dirty with grease and beer. The clientele was an odd mix of well-dressed men laughing around tables and lonely grey men staring into their glasses of beer.

Willow saw an empty table along the wall. She wove through the crowd and took a seat as a heavy comedian took a bow and ducked behind the curtain. In an effort to fit in with the men in the hall, she motioned to a waitress and ordered a beer. She hoped to see the stage from her position, and as she craned her neck the stage lights began to glow.

A man walked out onto the stage, and the audience fell into a dull roar. He cleared his throat and declared, “Your attention, please! Hullo… mates, quiet down now! We’ve got a special treat for ya tonight, all the way from the Haymarket. Let’s have it for Tara, the Irish Rose!”

The redhead’s heart beat with every step the blonde took to the center of the stage. Her eyes traveled up and down Tara’s figure, enchanted by the beauty on the stage. A guffaw broke through the crowd as a man shouted, “Ay! Ay, there! Give us a song, then!”

The redhead feared a repeat of the brawl that halted Tara’s prior performance and noticed her steel her expression. Apparently, she decided the best way to assuage the audience was to begin her song.

Tara cleared her throat and sent the first note through the air. The Harrigan song “Just Across from Jersey” always pleased crowds, and this audience was no exception. Smiles broke across the faces of gentlemen throughout the hall.

Willow could not help the feelings that arose as Tara sang. The blonde’s clear voice cut right through her, and she sat hypnotized. Suddenly, the stage lights went out, and she noticed that the waitress was standing above her, impatiently waiting for her to pay for the beer that had been placed on the table. She pulled out her wallet and handed a bill to the waitress. She took a sip of the beer and put the wallet back in her pocket, hoping that Tara’s song was not the last.

***

“Great song, miss! You might just make this joint respectable with that pretty voice o’ yer’s,” the manager said as Tara removed the pins that held her hat in place. She replied, “Thanks. I’ll try to do it again some time.”

She took the hat from her head and straightened her hair, all too aware that her father was eager to see her out in the bar. She took a single look in the mirror before she stood, made her way past a pair of women tightening their corsets, and walked to the saloon entrance.

The light seemed dim, even though she knew they had turned the lamps up for the next performer. A magician had taken the stage after her performance, and it almost felt as if her song had never floated through the hall. Her eyes connected with her father, who nodded to her. His face told her to start working the crowd, and as she began to circle the tables, she noticed a familiar pair of green eyes along the far wall.

‘It can’t be! No, she wouldn’t,’ Tara thought as she moved to get a closer look at the figure. Her feet took her closer to the table, and she soon realized it was indeed Willow, her face in an adorable wince after a sip of beer. Tara smiled, though she immediately worried that Willow had endangered herself. If she were not discovered as a female, it would only have been because no one had tried to swipe her money. She formulated a plan, and decided that she was the only one who could protect Willow. ‘Plus,’ she thought, ‘Willow is looking very nice.’

The redhead glanced up when she noticed the woman sit down across from her. She was immediately taken by how much more beautiful Tara was at this moment than when she stood upon the stage. She sat speechless when Tara asked, “Is this seat taken?”

Tara waved her hand before Willow’s face, her voice filled with mirth as she asked again, “I said, is this seat taken?”

Willow shook her head and answered, “Um, no. Er, I mean, I had hoped you would sit with me. I know you must be busy, and there must be lots of people who want you to sit with them, so you don’t have to stay. I just wanted to see you perform again. Sorry if I surprised you, and all, I just-“

“Willow, it’s fine.” The blonde grinned before she ventured, “Though, I must admit, I am shocked to see you here. This isn’t really your type of place.”

“My type of place? I just wanted to see you, that’s all,” the redhead responded defensively.

Tara noticed her father hovering in the background. She realized she would have to pretend to con the redhead if she was to keep her father from harassing her later. Begrudgingly, she motioned to a waitress and ordered a whiskey. She turned back to Willow and stated matter-of-factly, “Trust me. This isn’t your type of place, and I am going to have to move to that chair next to you. Is that alright?”

Willow was confused. She also wondered if her ears deceived her when Tara ordered a whiskey. She was brought out of her contemplation by the proximity of the blonde.

Tara had moved to sit next to her, and had moved her arm around the back of her chair. She was acting different, and she couldn’t seem to make up her mind about whether she wanted Willow to stay or go.

Willow hesitated, but needed to know, “What is going on? Do you want me to leave? I’m sorry I bothered you at work, I just… ugh, I don’t even know anymore. And was that whiskey you just ordered? Because you didn’t strike me as someone who would drink alcohol.”

“And you’re some naughty booze-hound with your beer?”

Willow pursed her lips before she replied, “I just wanted to fit in with the other men around here. You don’t need to fit in, you’re perfect.”

A blush spread through Tara’s face, yet she could barely handle her warring emotions. The redhead made her smile, and she could not wrap her mind around the fact that she had dressed as a man to sneak into the saloon just to see her sing. Yet, she could feel the stare of her father from the bar. It was only a matter of time before she would be expected to get Willow drunk, watch as her father stole her wallet, and push her out onto the street. She hated her circumstance but did not want to be anywhere but sitting next to Willow.

The waitress placed a glass on the table. Tara frowned as she took a sip of the brown liquid. Her father had ensured that it would be watered down, and he did not fail. She remembered Willow’s words and replied, “I am hardly p-perfect. I work in a factory and I sing in this… place. You’ve got a future, Willow, and I hope you can forgive me for what I have to do. Cheers.” The blonde clinked her glass against the redhead’s before draining the whiskey.

Willow’s eyes bulged at the sight of Tara’s feat. She did not want to seem weak, but she was confused at the blonde’s conduct. She took two large gulps and decided to persevere. She finished the beer and heard the glass pound on the table as she winced. Before she could ask Tara why she felt guilty, two more drinks appeared before them. She paid the waitress and suddenly felt very pleasant.

Her body hummed, and she noticed that Tara had placed her hand on her leg. Tara’s other hand moved from behind her chair to stroke her back. She reached for the glass before her and felt Tara lean close. As she took a sip she heard Tara’s insistent whisper, “Stop drinking. You need to leave. Now.”

Willow swallowed the beer and asked, “What! Why?”

“Just believe me. You need to go.”

The redhead did not know if her wince was from Tara’s words or from the burning liquid that traveled down her throat. The blonde’s hands never left her body, yet she told her to go. Her confusion turned to hurt, and she decided that if Tara was not going to explain anything, she might as well leave Harry’s. Through her blurred vision, she noticed Tara remove her hand and drink the second glass of whiskey. It was too much. She shot up and looked back at the blonde.

Tara pleaded with her eyes. She begged Willow to leave, yet she wanted her to stay. She hoped Willow could forgive her. She had to do what she had done. Her eyes brimmed with tears as Willow shook her head and stumbled out the door.

***

Graceful lamps hung from the ornate ceiling. The light reflected off the white tablecloths and mirrored walls, and the illuminated room fell into a hushed silence as a man took his place at the podium.

“Ladies, gentlemen, Miss Burkle, Lieutenant Finn, Reverend Giles, thank you for your warm welcome. I am honored to speak before this august congregation about a matter that is at the heart of the problems that plague this city. When I began my tenure on the city council, I felt a spark inside. Now, the fire has consumed me. I am fully committed to ridding this town of the behavior that leads to crime and degradation.”

Lindsey McDonnell let his eyes float over the sea of faces. His voiced boomed, “Some may wonder if I have some secret plan, or if we are doomed to battle these vices forever. To you I offer this pledge: we will not rest until the last soul has been saved; the last child clothed; the last beggar fed. The solutions lie within all of us. You and I, together, we can make a plan and make our city a better place for our children and our children’s children. We have no option but to take up this fight and cleanse the soul of this city.”

The councilman glanced at the brown eyes of Winifred Burkle, “I thank you for your support, and I look forward to working closely with the Church subcommittee. I will return the floor to Reverend Giles. Thank you.”

Reverend Giles reclaimed the podium and declared, “Thank you very much, Councilman McDonald. We are honored that you will help take up our fight. You are but one soldier in an army that will blot out the corruption and sin, which has infested this city. We are so glad that you could come to our banquet.”

The audience applauded and the man continued with a smile, “And, I think you’ve heard enough from me for this evening. Enjoy your dinners, everybody!”

The man made his way to his table and took a seat. He took a look at the people surrounding him. Miss Burkle and Councilman McDonald seemed to be engaged in close conversation, and Harmony Kendall, Miss Burkle’s friend, was chatting with the man next to her. He noticed the policeman eating across the table, and spoke up, “Lieutenant Finn, I’m so glad you could attend.”

The officer looked up from his plate and replied, “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Giles. It is an honor to be in the company of so many individuals that seek the same change as myself.”

“Indeed, Mr. Finn. How are you finding the campaign? I do so want to hear about how our efforts are working out on the streets.”

“To be entirely honest, Mr. Giles, it is a tough struggle. A noble struggle, but a struggle nonetheless. Certain organizations are determined to see us fail. They know how to control people, and they know how to fight. The men at Tammany must be stopped.”

Rupert smiled, “It seems we have a common foe, Mr. Finn. I assure you, Mr. O’Shaughnessy will regret the day he stepped off the boat. By the time we are through, he will wish he had stayed in Ireland.” The preacher paused before he suggested, “I want to make a proposition. We will work together to defeat these filth. You have control over hundreds of police, and Councilman McDonald and I can handle the newspapers and the clergy. Is that agreeable?”

Lieutenant Finn extended his hand across the table, “Absolutely. Let us shake hands on it.”

“I thank you, Mr. Finn. Shall we meet in my office next week to discuss the details?”

“Yes. And please, you can call me Riley, Reverend Giles.”

***

Tara felt her father draw closer through the crowd. She heard him press, “Well?”

She tore her stare from the door and revealed the wallet in her purse. “I’m going to go backstage for a moment. I will put the purse in the dressing room, so we won’t have the item on us if that guy gets a cop.”

“Alright, but we need to stick this out. Be back soon.”

The blonde rose and quickly made her way to the back door. She ran to the street and desperately sought the redhead, who she hoped had not gotten very far. She hustled down the block and noticed a boy with red locks slowly walking. She jogged further and shouted, “Willow, wait!” Tara ran down the block, ignoring the eyes that peered from the shadows.

The redhead slowed her pace, wishing she had more time to figure out what to do. Before she could make sense of her feelings, Tara’s hand spun her shoulder around. Words flew out of her mouth before she could control herself, “Just leave me alone, Tara.”

Tara withdrew her hand and said, “Will, I was trying to protect you! If it hadn’t been me, some other w-woman would have done the same. You don’t know what kind of place that is, and you should never have come. Here,” Tara chided before offering cash from the leather fold to the redhead. “I have to keep the wallet for my father, sorry.”

“How did you…?”

“Remember when my hands were, uh, more than friendly?”

Willow blushed at the memory as well as her vulnerability, accepting the wallet and casting her eyes to the ground in shame. She meekly answered, “Thanks. I better be going.”

“Don’t go, please. Willow, I need to know that you can forgive me. Do you at least understand why I pushed you away?”

“I suppose,” Willow replied. “You were doing a job. I just feel like a fool for coming here.”

“I’m glad you came,” the blonde insisted. “Really, I just wish you hadn’t seen me like that. It was certainly not my finest hour, Willow.” She paused before shyly pressing, “Why, um, did you come?”

“I don’t even know anymore. I was sick of my parents, and I wanted to see you sing. I thought you were there to sing, and nothing else. I’m such a fool,” Willow declared.

Tara reached her hand out again and touched the redhead’s shoulder, “You’re hardly a fool. You’re smart, and kind, and,” she smiled before she continued, “you look quite handsome in those pants. I’m, um, flattered that you came. This was all my father’s plan, and I hate that you saw me like that.”

Willow’s head was spinning. Every word that came out of the blonde’s mouth made sense, yet the beer had made her light-headed. Even more, she felt a strange comfort with Tara, a serenity that came with no other person. She thought back to their meeting in Central Park and inquired, “So that’s what Anya was talking about in the park? Can’t you just say ‘no’ to your father?”

The blonde grimaced. She chose her words carefully, “I’m not sure what your relationship with your parents is like, but my father doesn’t like the word ‘no,’ which is why I have to keep the wallet. I’ll just have to tell him that it was empty. Besides, if this works, and Donnie comes back, I won’t have to do it anymore.”

Willow smiled. “Well good, because you should not have to lift a girl’s, er, I mean, a man’s wallet.”

“I should think so, and I’m sorry I was touching you. It’s just, I had to make my father happy.”

“Oh it was fine. More than fine! Don’t worry at all, you can do it any time,” Willow replied with gusto.

Tara tilted her head and set her eyes on the woman before her. Confused, she wondered, ‘What did she just say?’

Willow realized what she had said and all but echoed Tara’s thoughts, “I should, uh, go home and leave you to your job, such as it is. Not that you’re all excited about going back, but, uh, don’t you have to go back?”

The blonde nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. My father is expecting me, and you should probably get home. Are you going to be alright?”

“I suppose. My parents are out for the evening, so I will just crawl into bed and try to forget that this whole night happened. I’m sorry I came, I’ll not bother you again,” she said with a waver.

Tara put her hands on Willow’s arms to steady her. “I already told you: I’m glad you came. I would love to see you some other time. I’ll be at the Haymarket on Fridays. Maybe you can stop by my dressing room afterwards. Is that, um, okay?”

Willow could not contain her grin, hoping that perhaps she had not made a total fool of herself. She answered, “Count on it.”

***End of Chapter 4***
Me: When I go to the gym, I like to listen to techno music. But this other friend likes to listen to Morrissey. And then everyone wonders why there's this guy crying on the eliptical.
My sister: Well the real question is, why does he bother working out when no one will ever love him?
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby Artemis » Wed Jul 13, 2005 8:18 am

It's always fun to see Willow dress up as a proper young gentleman, she's so cute :x And tense, in this case - she and Tara are so newly acquainted they were both flying blind somewhat, and I could really feel the difficulty Tara was having in figuring a way out of the situation her father had unwittingly put them in (unwitting in the sense that it was Willow, not what he intended to happen in general, and grrr! about that) without really being able to communicate with Willow in any subtle way. Quick thinking on her part, first to get Willow out of there, and then to quickly find an excuse to buy time to rush out and try to explain to Willow. I heaved a big sigh of relief at the end, when the damage to their new friendship was on the way to being mended. Great stuff :bow

As you asked, the Flashman novels are a series by George MacDonald Fraser, set between 1840ish and 1890ish, starring Harry Flashman, pride of the British army, all-around Victorian hero, adventurer, champion of dozens of battles in which he defended the flag against all manner of ne'er-do-wells and heathens - and, known only to himself, cad, scoundrel, womaniser, liar, bully and coward, whose only real talent (aside from a gift for language, horse-riding and fornication) is the ability to conceal his inglorious nature and appear to be a fearless hero. Ironically it makes him the perfect historian, because in writing his memoirs (which he intends to keep private until after his death) he has no reason to be dishonest about anything he saw and experienced, because he doesn't give a toss about any of it so long as he got through it with his skin and unearned reputation intact. The character is entirely fictional, but Fraser weaves him into real events (usually unwillingly, as all Flashman really wants is to stay in London frequenting his favourite clubs and brothels) - so far the highlights have included the Crimean War (Flashy inadvertently ended up amid the Charge of the Light Brigade), the Indian Mutiny, raiding Harper's Ferry, fleeing for dear life through the destruction of Custer's 7th Cavalry at Little Big Horn, shipping slaves out of Africa and running them to freedom again on the Underground Railroad (he was blackmailed into it, coming and going), and so on. In a book so far unwritten, he had some crucial but confused role in the US Civil War, during which he was a Major in the Union, and a Colonel in the Confederacy. I made the comparison to your story because one of Fraser's great talents is to paint a vivid, realistic image of the setting without seeming like a history textbook - the authenticity is unfailing, and even though in most cases I know next to nothing about the subject, it just 'feels' real.
Chris Cook
Through the Looking-glass - Every world needs a Willow and Tara.
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby Maccoda » Wed Jul 13, 2005 4:50 pm

As a native New Yorker and a decendant of Irish immigrants who arrived in NYC during this time period, I'm finding your story touches me on so many different levels that I cannot express my feeling adequately. I had relatives on the police force ( we now are in our 4th generation of Irish cops) as well as relatives involved in the seedier side of life (we are on our 5th generation of bar/club owners), it's like you're telling my family history in a sense. Your story is marvelous and updates will be well worth the wait.
Mick

I know there's a Hell, I work in retail.
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby sam7777 » Wed Jul 13, 2005 5:21 pm

Poor Tara torn between wanting to see Willow and not wanting to see her at Harry's. Her dad is quite ruthless having her pick wallets though I'm sure police are in short supply there so theire is cant chance of being arrested. I have a feeling that things will not improve when Donnie gets back given the methods but we can hope. I just love the idea of Willow in men's clothes and Tara's reaction to her in them. Great stuff!

:applause :bounce :applause :bounce
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby the hero factor » Wed Jul 13, 2005 8:05 pm

Wow. I'm really loving this story. It's so detailed and layered. And I love W/T ubers with lots of other Buffy-verse characters.

Great job, and I can't wait for more.
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby watty » Thu Jul 14, 2005 8:18 am

Mary, this was so beautifully written, I could feel 1) Willow's desire to see Tara, 2) Willow's confusion at Tara's cold shoulder, 3) Tara's conflict of wanting Willow yet having to be seen to be "doing her job", 4) Tara wanting to explain to Willow.

“Trust me. This isn’t your type of place, and I am going to have to move to that chair next to you. Is that alright?”

I could feel the hidden meaning Tara is trying to get across, but Willow is so naive, lucky that Tara was there to rescue her.

“I should think so, and I’m sorry I was touching you. It’s just, I had to make my father happy.”

“Oh it was fine. More than fine! Don’t worry at all, you can do it any time,” Willow replied with gusto.

A bone at us poor smoochie wanting kittens?
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby fun in dysfuntion » Fri Jul 15, 2005 8:02 am

Mary,

I love this story. I look forward to seeing how the alliance between politicians, police, and clergy will affect Willow and Tara individually. It's my own geeky interests in social structures and the people within those stuctures.

I thought that the internal turmoil Tara has about her "job" and her burgeoning attraction to Willow was especially well written. On the one hand, Tara has a job she has to do, but in doing this job, she is placed in a situation where she may be seen in less than a positive light. On the other hand, she is attracted to Willow and wants her to see her at her best.

The class differences are really highlighted in this chapter by the fact that Willow has choices and Tara does not. Willow can choose what college she will attend and whether or not to go to unsavory places albeit in disguise. I do wonder how this will affect their relationship down the line.

Lovely update.
Cheers,
teddy
If you are incalculable, then we are congruent. ~Hillman~ Insanity of noble minds, That never falters nor abates, But labors and endures and waits, Till all that it foresees it finds Or what it can not find creates.~Longfellow~
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Re: Huddled Masses

Postby cooper » Fri Jul 15, 2005 10:03 am

Willow slightly drunk and in drag is great. Tara sounds looks and feels like she is completely uncomfortable.

I was back and forth for a minute wondering if Tara would really steal from Willow.

I also love how fascinated they are with each other and not yet understanding why.

cooper
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