Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize from the movie.
They tore through the streets, twisting and turning through the labyrinth of buildings and alleys. People flew by in a blur; Evelyn caught only a nose or the color of a hat out of the corner of her eyes. Spot lead the way with a death grip on her hand which only fueled her adrenaline. She could only imagine how crazed they must look, running as if their lives depended on it. She supposed hers did, to some extent. Evelyn's lungs were burning with the exertion that came from the overuse of unused lungs. Her corset felt as though it tightened with each gulp of air she took, hindering any possibility of breathing normally. Her breath came out ragged and she was wheezing. She desperately tried to slow down, "Spot...I can't."
He tugged on her arm without looking back and without slowing, "We can't stop, Evelyn. We have to keep moving."
He tried to pull her along but her legs felt like jelly and she couldn't get a firm hold on the ground. She stumbled and fell forward, landing on her hands and left knee. A sharp pain shot through her knee as it smashed against the dirty, debris strewn sidewalk and caused her to cry out. She pushed herself to a sitting position and grabbed her injured knee, feeling upset and dejected. Spot had turned to her as she had fallen and now knelt down beside her, "Are you alright?"
Evelyn looked at him with tears in her eyes, "Spot, I can't run anymore." She refused to tell him that her corset was hurting her. She may have been a prostitute but she was still a lady and ladies did not mention their corsets. She willed him to understand, hoping that maybe he would just think she had weak lungs. If he made her keep running, Evelyn was sure that her lungs would explode.
He seemed to resign himself to the idea that she wasn't going much further and he glanced around. He saw something and smiled as he turned to her, "Alright. I know a place we can stop." He lifted her up and set her on her feet. Evelyn noticed how strong and sure his hands felt around her waist and wondered if he was going to expect any services now that she was virtually stuck with him. "Did you hurt yourself when you fell? Can you walk?" Their faces were only inches away from each other and Evelyn turned away, embarrassed.
The pain in her knees was dulling to an ache which Evelyn expected would be there for awhile. She knew she could walk just fine but Spot didn't seem to think she could stand since his hands were still around her waist. She pulled away from him and his fingers reluctantly released her. "I'm fine. I just need to rest," she said softly. She wondered why he was helping her and remembered what he had said back in her room; he had wanted to get to know her. She didn't even know what he meant by that. She mentally shook herself; there would be other, more appropriate times to as those questions.
Spot nodded, "This way." He turned and led her to a nearby building. Evelyn quickly glanced over the building but couldn't get a clear view of the name over the door before Spot quickly pulled her through the door. Evelyn's nose was assaulted by a plethora of unpleasant smells, the most prominent of which was vomit. Her eyes opened wide as she took in her surroundings, "A bar?" She knew good things rarely came from young women being in bars and wondered once again what this newsie really wanted from her.
Spot turned and saw her fearful look on her face. "You ain't ever been to a bar?" he asked doubtfully.
Evelyn frowned, "I work from O'Malley's place. I don't ever leave. It's different than your regular street walkers." She wasn't shocked by his assumption. Everyone assumed that prostitutes didn't have morals and would go anywhere or do anything.
A raised eyebrow was all she got in response as he led her to a booth. Evelyn looked around and immediately became self conscious of her dress. She was wearing more than most street walking prostitutes but the amount of shoulder and cleavage she was showing made it obvious to every man in the bar what she did for a living. Many of them had turned towards her as she followed Spot. She prayed she wouldn't be recognized by any former customers who would likely cause trouble. She tugged on her sleeves in an attempt to cover her shoulders and crossed her arms in front of her chest as they sat down. She chewed her nail nervously and before Spot had a chance to open his mouth, she blurted out, "So what's our plan?"
Spot shrugged nonchalantly, "I ain't got a plan." He motioned for someone to bring him a drink.
Evelyn felt her heart sink. This newsie had completely destroyed her life and he had absolutely no plan? Tears sprang to her eyes and anger rose in her throat. The shock of the incident had worn off and she was filled with anger that this newsie had dared to ruin any semblance of a life she had managed to create and now was sitting and drinking as though he hadn't a care in the world. "What do you mean you don't have a plan?" she hissed harshly yet quietly. It wouldn't help her at all to start anything in this place.
The sharpness of her words caused his eyes to narrow, "I haven't thought that far ahead yet." The look on his face dared Evelyn to challenge him and Evelyn became aware that Spot was used to having some power over those around him.
She took a deep breath and willed herself to keep from jumping over the table to strangle him. He was the only person she really had who could help her and she doubted he would be quite as helpful if she attacked him in front of a room full of men. She spoke quietly, "What do you mean? How far ahead have you thought?"
Spot's drink arrived and he took a long gulp from it. Evelyn momentarily wondered how newsies ever made a living if they spent all their money on beer and women. She was jolted out of her thoughts as Spot spoke, "Get out of the apartment."
His words were like a slap in the face and Evelyn's voice rose, "Are you kidding me? You had no plan when you killed him?" A few heads turned in their direction causing Spot to grab her arm and pull her close, knocking over his drink in the process, "Listen, don't go broadcasting that fact," he warned angrily.
Evelyn clenched her teeth and held back tears. She put her face in her hands and took three deep breaths in an attempt to remain calm. She looked up at him and saw someone had already cleaned up his spill. "What am I supposed to do?" she asked softly, resigning herself to the fact that she was at this newsie's mercy.
He shrugged, "Get outta Brooklyn."
An image of a giggling baby boy flashed through her mind and she shook her head, "That's not an option." She couldn't just up and leave, she had responsibilities here. Surely he would understand that.
She sounded so sure when she said it that Spot didn't question her. He eyed her for a moment before stating, "Then you need to get a job that ain't whoring yourself out."
Evelyn clenched her teeth and held in her anger, "What exactly do you proposed, Mr. Conlon? Be a newsie?" As much as Evelyn disliked the work she was in, she would much rather continue doing so that peddling paper for pennies a day.
Spot laughed, "Girls ain't newsies." Seeing the look on her face stopped his laughter and he turned serious. "I don't know. Factory work?"
She shook her head, "I'm not working for no money for a factory where I will most likely die." She had known too many friends who had believed themselves lucky to get out of the business and into some factory that had promised them the moon, only to be treated worse than rats once they got there.
Spot snorted, "Because your line of work is so safe."
"It was until you came along," she retorted coldly, reminding him that it was his fault that she was in this mess in the first place.
He looked away and took a deep breath. Her comment seemed to drive home the fact that he was responsible for her. After a moment of silence and Spot turned and seemed to be studying her. Evelyn held herself tighter, self-conscious of his intense stare. He spoke, "Maybe I have something for you, with the newsies."
Evelyn suspected that she knew exactly what type of something Spot had in mind. It didn't particularly offend her but it irked her that he would assume that was the only option available to her, especially after basically ordering her out of that line of work. She frowned and spoke, "I'm not being the newsies' personal whore."
Spot looked confused for a split second before he recovered and shook his head, "I didn't ask you to be."
"Oh," she said softly. She wasn't embarrassed by her assumption. In her line of work she had been conditioned to believe that certain services were the only ones a group of men could want. "What then?" she asked, curious.
"At the lodging house, we have a caretaker," Spot explained. "Or we did. He's still technically working there but he's so old, he can't do much." Evelyn started to understand what Spot was getting at but waited for him to continue. "He wants me to take his job but I ain't the type to take care of others."
The last few words were common euphemisms in her business and Evelyn eyed him cautiously, "Take care of you how?"
Spot shook his head, clearly understanding what she was implying. "Not like that." He shrugged, "Just collecting payment and making sure the place is clean."
The prospect seemed too easy. Evelyn wouldn't mind doing a simple job like that and it would keep her from being outside in the streets too much where her boss could find her. It would be a nice change from selling herself every night. She chewed on her nail as she contemplated, "And he would just let me take it?" Spot nodded. There was one important question she had to ask. "How much does it pay?"
Spot shrugged, "I don't know. The city pays him a monthly salary. He lives at the lodging house so he don't have to pay rent. It's not a lot but he sends some money to his sister so I guess it's enough."
His last comment made Evelyn sure she wanted the job. She had always been thrifty and crafty with money so she would probably be able to send some of her earnings as well just as she had been doing before. "Would I be allowed to live there as well?" she asked.
Spot shrugged, "You would make the rules. I doubt anyone would mind."
Evelyn frowned; this seemed too easy. Jobs and opportunities like this didn't just fall into people's laps. It made her suspicious, "I'm not sure."
"Listen, why don't you just come over and talk to him."
A laugh floated from her mouth, "Spot, it has to be after midnight." She wondered what type of city run establishment allowed young men to come and go at such late hours. Then again, O'Malley's was financed by many influential people throughout New York City, she reasoned.
A nonchalant shrug was his response. "So spend the night, talk to him in the morning."
Evelyn raised her eyebrows and snorted, "I can't spend the night with a bunch of young men dressed like this."
His eyes ran over her clothes and it seemed to dawn on him for the first time that she was dressed rather provocatively. He frowned for a moment and then seemed to resign to something, "I have me own room. Sleep there."
She shook her head vehemently, "I'm not sleeping with you." I knew it, she thought, he expects me to sleep with him for helping me.
He shook his head, "I will sleep with the rest of me newsies."
A frown crossed her face. His response was not what she had expected. Maybe this newsie wasn't as selfish as she had anticipated. She didn't want to apologize for assuming him to be a ruthless cad and changed the subject, "Your newsies?"
He nodded. "I'm their leader," he said proudly.
"Oh," she said quietly. "I didn't know the newsies had a leader." She hadn't even known the newsies were organized. Being a leader explained why he was obviously accustomed to power and acted as such. And why he lashed out at O'Malley the way he did.
"Everyone needs a leader," Spot reasoned, smirking.
His eyes twinkled when he smirked and Evelyn couldn't help but smile back softly, "I guess."
Spot stood up, "Well, I'm tired. Are you coming or not?"
Evelyn stared at him for a moment. He seemed so sure of himself that Evelyn was drawn to him. She still had reservations about actually accompanying the newsie to his home but as she glanced around the room, it became obvious that he was her best option. The looks on the faces of some of the men in the room said that as soon as she was alone, bad things would happen. She stood and nodded, "I guess I am."