Chapter Text
The sound of faint jazz from a cafe (a speakeasy with very spicy “tea” despite the prohibition, as Coco had accidentally discovered) filled the street as the evening rain pitter-pattered on the cobblestone that seemed to glow under the light of the faint setting sun in the distance. It had been a slow couple of days for Coco—not many people buying newspapers at all lately. After the Great War and the rapidly changing state of the United States, there have been few scandals sensational enough to have had the chance to really capture the eye of the rich wandering in search of something new and exciting. The young teen jogged through the streets of Manhattan, holding her tattered corduroy cap down to her head, short choppy blonde hair whipping around her face wildly with every gentle stroke of the wind, the rain landing softly onto her already dirt-stained knickerbockers as she ran. Coco clutched the stack of papers tightly to her chest, trying to shelter them from the rain. No one would buy soggy newspapers, after all.
After jogging for a few minutes, she finally reached the familiar newsstand, hoping to take shelter from the rain under the canvas awning.
“May I stop for the day, Mister Olruggio?” Coco called to the newsstand keeper, a kind, albeit gruff middle aged man with a perpetually miserable expression always adorning his unshaved face.
“I am afraid not, Coco. Ya’know how it is, business is slow these days. With all these penny-grubbers haggling over every single cent, and all these boring headlines, we need every penny we can get.” He replies, sighing and leaning on the counter of the stand.
“Shucks, I was hoping to get home early and read that book you gave me… S’alright, though, I don’t mind! After all, there’s always the chance that I might run into something fascinating on the job! And don’t be so quick to judge people, Mister Olruggio, you never know, maybe those ‘penny-grubbers’ you loathe so just spent all their money on feeding their families and can’t spare an extra cent for a paper…” The blonde counters, tilting her head and giving the keeper a small smile.
“I suppose if you put it that way… Doesn’t matter. Go finish your work, Coco.” Olruggio says, turning back to continue organizing the shelves of papers. Coco grabs a few more just in case. The rain finally starts letting up, becoming barely more than a slight mist over the cigarette smoke-smelling city.
Coco takes off once again, jogging through the streets, stopping in popular spots, mostly by speakeasies, where most rich patrons gathered, shouting and grinning, hoping to grab the fleeting attention of the men and women pouring in and out of the buildings.
“Attention! Attention all! Governor announces highway expansion in May! New bill being passed! Read all about it in the New York Times!” She shouted excitedly, approaching the well-dressed folk with outstretched hands, clutching dampened copies of the same old stories. The people all seem completely indifferent to the papers, although once in a while someone buys the paper for a cent, less out of interest than pity for the young lady running around like a madwoman all day.
Hours passed, and the sparkling twilight turned to dusk, and then the dusk turned to a dark night, the sky a deep blackish purple, sprinkled with vibrant stars and a shining waning crescent moon. It had been a torturously long day. Coco couldn’t help but feel saddened. She’d been making so little lately. Her mother had fallen ill lately and could not work, and her dad had passed when she was very little. With Coco bringing such a meager amount home every day, she may need to pick up another job just to scrape by. Despite her dreams of becoming a woman of great knowledge and skill, she was forced to drop education altogether a year ago when money got tight. Now, she walks back to the stall, dragging her feet a little, disappointed by how little she was able to make, yet still stubbornly grateful for the money she earned. While dragging her feet definitely amplified the dramatics of the scene—it had not been a good idea in the poorly paved streets. Coco soon realized that she was having a very unpleasant, sudden, and face-first greeting with the cobblestone.
With a very pained groan, Coco forces her body upright, leaning against a lamppost for support. Rubbing her nose, elbow and arm, all grated by the pavement and having taken most of the damage of the fall, she buries her head in her hands. It’s been such a long week, and an even longer day. Nonetheless, wiping her welling tears, she rises, picking the papers back up, and putting on a smile despite hurting, hoping to catch the attention of a passerby and sell some more papers on her way back. Through the loud symphony of honks of cars and screeches of tires coming from the road, Coco’s golden brown eyes, ever burning with curiosity, land on a particularly shiny car that parks off to the side of the road, right next to Coco. Out of the car steps a beautiful Lady with long, dark plum hair, and strict, cold eyes. From the other side exits a smaller girl, perhaps Coco’s age, with similar plum hair, but cut short in an elegant, textured, grown out pixie. Her eyes, despite belonging to a young and wealthy girl, held the wisdom, determination, loneliness and heaviness of a thousand men. Those eyes, those deep violet eyes, land on Coco’s slender, boyish frame. Coco isn’t oblivious, she knows about these two ladies. Adina and Agott Arklaum, members of the prestigious House of Arklaum, a family of wealthy French and German immigrants renowned for their prestige and intelligence. Swallowing her underlying insecurity and shyness, she can only hope they’ll be merciful enough to spare some change for her.