itsmycity | fics

Melbourne sat in the cabin, an open book on his lap but his gaze was directed at some faraway distance. He hadn't seen Spot since the morning, which was fine by him, in theory. It was understandable that the boy wanted to expore the ship on his own. Melbourne had nothing against Spot finding his own amusements but he did wish to speak to him as soon as possible in order to sort out something that had come to his attention earlier in the day.

They had barely gone through the incident at the harbour, and now there was already another thing to discuss. Race's words echoed in his mind: Don't let him down. That wasn't Melbourne's intention but he wasn't sure he could handle new problems every day.

Spot had finished his breakfast before Melbourne who was soon afterwards approached by two American businessmen. They asked if the boy whom they just saw leaving was Melbourne's son and he confirmed it to be true. 'Cardwell and Hall' they had introduced themselves, 'partners in a mining company in the Rocky Mountains'. Melbourne had gestured them to sit down, quite confused of why they wanted to talk to him.

They were wealthy by the look of it, but not the type of men that Melbourne typically socialized with, as he was more accustomed to quiet English gentleman, not the self-assured, loud and the more informal Americans.

They explained how the night before they had been sitting in one the recreation rooms when a young lad had stopped by their table. Children didn't normally occupy those spaces without their parents although they weren't by no means prohibited if they knew how to behave. When Mr. Cardwell continued and mentioned that they had been playing cards, Melbourne could feel his heart sink. He knew by then where the conversation was going but he kept his calm and didn't try to interrupt.

"He asked us if he could play with us," Mr. Cardwell smiled. "We told him it would be better if he went back to his mother and father but no, he was adamant. Very polite but adamant that he was good at poker, so we decided to humor him a little, and play for a round or two, keeping the bets to a minimum. It didn't quite end like that."

"I see," Melbourne said curtly. "You do not need to spare my feelings. How much did he lose?"

The men glanced at each other, amused. "He didn't, sir. We did. Twelve dollars."

Twelve dollars! That was a huge amount for Spot which made this even worse. Melbourne couldn't believe Spot had let the game go on for that long. Or actually, he could. He could definitely see Spot getting excited about winning and not wanting to stop, but what if he had lost? Although, if he was honest, Melbourne had to admit the whole thing was entertaining, too. It just wasn't something he wanted these men to know, so he tried to disguise his levity with a rueful head shake.

"I apologize. I do not have that kind of money with me at the moment, but you can be assured I will pay you back."

"No, that's not why we're here," Mr. Hall laughed. "He won, fair and square. We wouldn't imagine asking it back. We simply thought you ought to know what he has been up to. Not everyone who gambles on the ship is going to take it well to lose to a young boy. He could get in serious trouble. It's not a good idea for him to continue. We take responsibility for our part, of course, and owe you an apology that we let it happen."

Melbourne leaned back in his chair. "I appreciate you telling me. I will talk to him."

"That would be best," Mr. Cardwell nodded, pausing for a second. "I apologize if I'm being overly curious, sir, but you are British, correct, and your son isn't...?"

"Correct. He has been living with his mother in New York but I felt it was time for him to... get to know his English roots." As much as Melbourne would instill in Spot to always speak the truth, he wasn't above telling a little white lie himself. It wasn't really even that, but there was no point in getting into details about the past.

"Ah, the best of both worlds, then?" Mr. Hall concluded. "Excellent. Well, we won't keep you longer, sir. It was a pleasure to get to know you."

"Likewise."

Both men got up and shook hands with Melbourne before leaving their business cards on the table.

"One more thing... this is awfully premature, obviously, but we were discussing this together and we wouldn't mind hearing from your son when he becomes of age. Mining can be a lucrative business. Not for everyone but it has been for us and we're always looking for bright young men to add to our workforce, or to become partners with us."

"Excuse me?" Melbourne couldn't believe his ears. Were these men trying to recruit his wayward, uneducated son?

"Just an idea for future, nothing more, but it is a serious offer. The way we see it, it never hurts to keep options open. Hopefully you and your son will give it proper thought. Good day, sir."

---

"Did you think I would not find out?" Melbourne asks when Spot finally returns from his excursions. "Is the money in your trunk? I hope you aren't surprised to learn that I will confiscate it for the duration of this journey. You can keep two dollars but I don't want you to get ideas that you can go on spending twelve dollars on whatever nonsensical thing you'll find on the ship."

"I wouldn't have spent it." Never. Spot was all about saving money.

"You won't, that is true."

They stare at each other for some time, Spot feeling defiant and Melbourne at a loss.

"You know what is the most absurd thing about this? You do know, don't you? I was stunned to hear what you had told them your name was."

At that moment Spot decides that the view from the cabin's tiny window is the most exciting thing ever.

"I want to hear you say it. What was the name you introduced yourself with?"

Spot keeps avoiding the question.

"Go on, I'm waiting."

It takes a few minutes for Spot to open his mouth, just like it did the first time he told Melbourne his name. The tone of his voice is a little annoyed, even if he knows this is all his doing.

"Sean."

"Sean. Indeed. The name that you've refused to use for sixteen years. Now you're suddenly Sean. Why?"

Spot shrugs.

"You don't know? I should hope your reason was that you didn't want to downright lie about it."

"I guess."

Another quiet moment falls between them.

"What happens now?" Spot finally inquires.

"I have to think about it." Melbourne buys some time for himself by arranging clothes that he has haphazardly thrown over chairs and his bed. He isn't the tidiest person on earth. Spot waits anxiously for the verdict.

"Did you know those men own a mining business?" Melbourne finally asks.

"No."

"Well they do. Maybe I'll send you for hard labour in their mines."

His expression turns a little devious, though, which isn't lost from Spot. He dares to grin back, realising he's already been forgiven and is going to escape without any kind of punishment.

"My son, the gambler," Melbourne muses and shakes Spot gently by the shoulder. "Let's go to lunch."

He will never let Spot know about the future job offer - it would just make the boy think too highly of himself - but he believes Spot has had enough of a punishment in the form of using Sean as his name.

((OPTIONAL ENDING, because I got another thought but couldn't decide which one I liked better:))

"And that's not all. You know what is the most absurd thing about this? Not the gambling. Not the fact you let me hear about it from strangers. No. You had to pull a completely ridiculous stunt. You know what I'm talking about so don't try to deny it. What in the world got into you, making up your name?"

Spot shrugs. "'twas the first name that came to mind." In all honesty, it's the name that is on his mind all the time.

Anthony.

"Spot, I know you miss Race but you can't go around lying about your name."

"No, dad."

"You need to go and tell those men the truth."

Spot nods. "Is that all?"

Melbourne sighs. "Yes. Just... please let me have one uneventful day, alright? Go find your fun somewhere other than the gambling table."

"I promise, dad."

"Good. Let's go to lunch."

fics

Anthony "Racetrack" Higgins: Backstory