Winter was rapidly approaching and Mickie still hadn't saved enough money to buy herself a new sweater. Her usual pub wasn't cutting it for her anymore, and she often found herself loitering around seedier bars, looking for new customers. She was used to pulling in at least ten bucks a night, but lately she was lucky to get a couple dollars. It was late November when the first snow fell on the sleeping city. Mickie struggled through the night, focusing less on getting customers and more on staying warm in the now ratty blue dress she had more or less traded for her old clothes that night she met the two newsies. Mickie found herself heading toward that familiar bar, hoping more for the warmth of her friend Rusty than the money of some sucker.
"Heya doll face, ain't seen you 'round heah lately," a voice called to her as soon as she opened the door. Mickie quickly recognized the newsie that had called himself Race, but she ignored him, chosing to address a young bartender she didn't recognize.
"Hey bar keep!" Mickie called to get his attention. "Where's Rusty?"
"Miss, you ain't been 'round heah lately, have ya? Ole Rusty left us a couple months back. Terribly sorry..." Mickie stopped listening after that. She vaguely remembered the new bartender mentioning something about Rusty being a landlord of some sorts, but she hadn't really paid attention. She was too much in shock. He had left without even telling her where he was going. Apparently, they hadn't been as close as Mickie had thought.
"Doll face, ain't ya hoid me tawkin' ta ya?" Race was persistant.
"What da hell do you want?" Mickie exploded.
"I got ten dollars. Wudda say you come keep me company for awhile?" Mickie considered the idea as she eyed Race up and down. She knew she needed the money, but she just couldn't stand the way he spoke to her with such little respect.
"I don't think so. Sorry pal," Mickie turned back to the bar and ordered a drink. Just as she was about to throw her last few coins down to pay, a small handfull of coins was thrown down from behind her.
"I got it," Mickie recognized the young man as Blink, the other newsie. She smiled greatfully. "So wudda say ya keep me company t'night?" he asked cautiously.
"Shoa, five bucks for da night," Mickie replied numbly. She hated this part of the deal. It always made her feel so cheap. At least once she was alone with whoever, she could pretend she was with someone who actually cared about her. Blink counted out five dollars and slapped it in her hand, grinning at his friend Race the entire time. Mickie slid two of the five dollars across the bar to the young bartender and lead Blink into the tiny backroom where she gave him his money's worth.