She trotted down the street her worn down boots barely making a sound as she ducked into the alley. Once sure of her surroundings she stopped to check her injuries. She hiked up her skit to reveal a nice large cut on her calf. She dropped the skirt when she saw it was nothing merely more then a scrape. Finding a piece of glass she scowled at her dirt brown hands. It sickened her to think that she was that dirty. Then again falling into the mud would do it for anyone. Finding a broken bottle she glanced at her reflection.

"Great." she muttered. A nice large shiner was forming under and around her right eye.

"Stupid good for nothing bastard." she spat angrily throwing the glass onto the cobblestone ground watching it break into shards.

"You know," began a voice. "If you just learned to keep ya mouth shut Irish ya wouldn't have this damn problem."

"Shove it Bittah!" Irish spat angrily. She heard a giggle. "You to Relic."

She looked up at the two girls. Relic was what guys looked for in a girl, long flowing brown hair with hazel eyes and she was drunk nearly all the time once the sun set. Any man's friend. Not that she was easy, but she gave a good chase. She usually won though, leaving the man holding ice over his lower regions. Bittah just had this badass aurora about her. Most guys loved her, and she was a rather pleasant person when you got to know her, but before you did, she was a cold hearted bitch and you just didn't mess with her.

"So who was this guy who did this to ya?" asked Relic leaning against the building for support.

"I have no idea, some greasy Italian guy." Irish spat. Bittah let out a small chuckle.

"Well it will teach ya to mind ya own damn business then." she grinned with a nod. Relic hesitated a moment then nodded in agreement. Irish frowned at the two, she knew they were right, they were always right about this sort of thing.

"Well he shouldn't of been treatin' no newsie like that, no matter how small she looks." Irish said definitely lighting up a cigarette.

"What exactly happened?" came a masculine voice from behind Relic and Bittah.

"What is this! The fucking press!" screamed Irish outraged. Why did everyone always have to know everything all the time when it happened?

"Youse in my territory you speak up ya got that?" Spot responded crudely. Irish glared at him. They had this love hate relationship.

"Well Relic, maybe we should leave the two lovebirds alone then." smirked Bittah and Relic smirked and the two exited the alley.

"Stay tonight in Brooklyn, you know da rules Jacky boy don't want anyone wanderin home to late." called Relic as she disappeared from sight.

She groaned and then looked at Spot.

"You can bunk with me." he said gruffly as he started out of the alleyway. Rolling her eyes Irish followed him.

The pair, Bittah and Relic, sauntered down the street approaching the Manhattan Lodging house when they caught sight of a new girl they had never seen before. Hiding, the two began to eavesdrop.

"Davey, I just don't feel right around the other girls. It's not that I don't like them, I just I don't know don't feel comfortable that's all." Bittah and Relic exchanged a confused look.

"Queens, please, one more chance, Gip really ain't all that bad. She's just a trouble maker. I swear it to you, that's all. She didn't mean everything she said, neither did Marsh and Sneaks she just joins in because she looks up to all the other girls." said David in almost a pleading tone. The girl shook her head and sighed.

"Maybe you're right Davey, maybe you're right. Just one more time that is all." she said kissing him on the cheek before walking away. David stood there and watched her leave. Relic and Bittah made their presence known before walking into the lodging house. Then they both galloped down the hallway to tell Gip, Marsh and Sneaks what Irish had done that day.

Walking into the lodging house Irish pulled her hair down out of its bun. Her black hair spilled down onto her back and she ran her fingers through it. She heard a whistle and immediately knew who it was.

"Shove it Pomp." she snapped at the boy as she followed Spot upstairs to the bunkroom.

"Looks like Spot's getting somethin tanight!" A few rounds of laughter reached her ears as she continued up the steps. Spot took her into another room.

"We cleaned out the old closest, this is me room since I did all da work. Ya will sleep here tanight and I'll sleep in da bunkroom. 'Cause I ain't leavin ya in there with guys like Pomp." he said pulling back the covers.

"You ain't expectin me ta sleep now are ya?" she said looking out a window. "It's still light out."

"Nope, but ya are stayin in here, until ya tell me what happened out dere, ya got dat?" Spot said with a slight nod. Irish scowled at him.

"Fine."

Gip was howling on the floor by the time Bittah and Relic had finished re-enacting the fight between Irish and the Italian.

"So why did she hit him?" asked Sneaks still somewhat confused on the situation.

"Irish nevah said why…" said Relic slowly, "Come to think of it." Gip stopped mid laugh eyebrow arched.

"Den something is up. Irish ain't the type of girl, unless she's drunk, to go around startin fights with no one." Marsh nodded in agreement.

"Somethin is defiantly up."

Relic and Bittah exchanged a glance.

"She also ain't one to hide nothing from us either." The girls all looked around at each other trying to figure out what Irish was hiding. Sneaks cleared her throat. This was making her uneasy.

"How about we go and get somethin' ta eat." she suggested. The talking began up again and the groups of five headed down to Tibby's.

"He just pissed me off dat's all!" cried Irish for the nearly tenth time as Spot interrogated her.

"He pissed ya off so ya hit him? A guy who is known ta be lurkin around dese new gang members and such and ya just go off and hit him!" Spot asked skeptically. "You may be nuts Irish, but ya ain't stupid. And neither am I. Now tell me why ya really hit him." asked Spot.

Something in Irish snapped.

"Because I'm tired of him always hoitin me!" she screamed. Releasing those words into the air brought upon a new feeling of relief, then quickly regret. Spot's eyebrows shot up into the arched position.

"What do you mean hoitin' ya?" he asked carefully, but sternly.
"Nothin, I just mean he's always sayin mean things ta me." Irish said as she began to pace the room.

"Irish, if you went off the handle for everyone sayin something mean ta ya, Pomp would no longer be alive." Spot commented. Irish looked over at him. Her face was flustered. "It ain't nothing alright?" she said growing angry. Spot stood up as he watched Irish's body began to tense up. He knew how he'd get the information out of her.

"What does he hit ya?" Spot asked bring his hand from his side to almost Irish's face, but she stopped him, not even flinching.

"No." she spat angrily.

"He call you a whore Irish? Talk about what ya used ta do?" he said touching some on her hidden past. Still Irish remained still, her face gave away nothing.

"No." she held her ground defiantly.

"No," Spot paused then got an idea, "But he does make you keep giving him more." while he said that he slid his hands down Irish's sides to her hips and running his left hand up under her chest cupping her breast in his hand. Irish's whole body went tense. She stared Spot straight in the eye. She wasn't about to let her guard down. Especially to some womanizer named Spot Conlon. But in her head she secretly pleaded for Tease, one of the few newsgirls in Brooklyn, to appear.

"He touches ya, doesn't he Irish." Spot said kissing her neck. Irish stood her ground, but slowly she felt her hands begin to shake. With his right hand he lifted up her skirt, putting his warm hand on her thigh and moving it up towards her hip. Irish snapped and pushed him away.

"Get off of me!" she screamed tears in her eyes. Spot got his answer. The once tough Brooklyn raised girl looked smaller and weaker then Manhattan's very own Les. Cold tears crawled down her cheeks and Spot looked at her before opening the door.

"I…" started Spot, his head reacting against his gut instinct to protect her.

"I'll come and check on you later." he said as he exited the room. Irish stared after him, tears crawling down her cheeks, the crawl quickly turned into torrents as she sat on the bed and cried.