Bean slowly pushed open the door that read "Sun Employees Only." No
sooner than she had stepped inside, a gruff voice called out to her.
"Aye, who goes dere?"
Bean timidly walked forward. "Uh, me name's Anna Willer. I'ze da new typesettah."
"Oh, well den, welcome tah da Sun, Anna." Bean jumped, the voice was right behind her. She turned around and looked up at her new employer. He was a plump, strong looking fellow, around fifty years old. He stoked his scraggly gray beard and mustache as he eyed up his new employee. "So, Denton sent ya, did he?"
"Yessir."
"Well, I guess you could be of some use tah me. C'mon I'll show ya around."
Four hours later, Bean stumbled out of the print shop. She struggled to keep her eyes open as she stepped out into the street. After only a few brief instructions, she had been put to work. Luckily, Bean caught on quickly. She managed to get the first section of the paper done by herself. "Governor Catches Cold, May Affect Election Campaign" was the next day's headline. "Dey are definitely hard up fer reportahs," she observed.
~~~
Two streets away, an ebony haired beauty ducked into the unlit, dank alley. Her deep chestnut eyes darted back and forth, checking for any unwelcome guests. She turned around and rapped on the thick hardwood door, three times in quick succession. A few seconds later, the door slowly creaked open. A deep, sonorous voice greeted her. "Hello, Kira."
~~~
Spot sighed as he trudged towards Tibby's. He didn't know why he bothered going there anymore. He always ended up seeing Jack and Mooch there together, and he had to leave before he broke down. But something was telling him he needed to go that night.
He had only walked two steps into the door when he was greeted by a familiar voice.
"Spot!"
Spot looked up. "Sarah?" he asked. He smiled shyly at his old friend.
"What brings you all the way over to Manhattan?"
Spot sighed. "I ain't even sure anymore."
Sarah looked puzzled. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Spot looked at the ground. "I really don't wanna talk about it."
Sarah looked at him, perplexed. "All right," she mumbled. "Well, I've gotta get back to work."
Spot sank down into a booth, propping his head up with his left hand. He brushed a stray lock of golden brown hair from his face as he gazed out the window at the people bustling past. He was shaken from his daze by a startling noise.
Mooch slammed the door of Tibby's shut. She stood in the middle of the dining room with her hands on her hips. "Where's Jack?" she demanded of no one in particular.
Spot smiled at the object of his affection, but his stomach twisted inside as he remembered that she was looking for Jack. She did have an angry tone to her voice, however. "I hope dis means dere havin' problems," Spot mumbled to himself.
Mooch's brilliant cinnamon eyes darted around the room, then locked on to Spot. She slunk towards his table, much like a lion prowls after its prey. As she glided into the cushioned seat across from him, Spot detected a subtle citron scent radiating from her. He savored every last bit of it, breathing in deep. He bit his lip as she leaned forward to adjust her skirt. The fair, delicate skin of her bosom showed itself through the sheer, lacy fabric of her blouse. Spot fidgeted, not able to take his eyes off her curvaceous figure. Her eyes stared intently at the table, as if it held the secrets of the universe. They then slowly shifted upwards to stare fiercely into Spot's eyes. Finally, she spoke.
"Spot, have you seen Jack?" she asked hoarsely.
Spot shook his head timidly. He clasped his hands together to prevent them from trembling.
Mooch leaned forward and rested her hands on his. "I really need to talk to him."
A shiver went up Spot's spine as he became increasingly more aware of his hands. "What about?" he asked as he swallowed hard.
Mooch looked at Spot seriously. "I can't tell you."
"Oh," he replied, not being able to look her in the face. He glanced around the room. Sarah was wiping off a table, and an elderly man, resembling Kloppman, was paying for his meal. A burly man with thick, slicked-back, black hair and a goatee, dressed in a dark, obviously expensive suit entered the diner. Nothing too interesting. Spot shifted his attention back to Mooch.
She tucked a lock of her sleek inky black hair behind her ear. "I really love Jack." she remarked in a distracted voice. "He's just so.perfect."
Spot sighed.
For no clear reason, Mooch abruptly sat upright. "Um, er, Spot, I gotta go." she murmured as she stood up. She whisked out the door as a mouse being pursued by a cat.
~~~
Race adjusted his cap nervously as he made his way up the path to the Willer residence. Tom Willer had quite a bit of money, and he had purchased a rather large house in Manhattan for him and his daughter. Race knocked on the door quietly. He looked down at his dusty clothing and ink- stained hands and felt rather out of place in such beautiful surroundings.
A moment later, Bean came to the door, wearing a cream-colored silk top and a long, flowing skirt. Her hair hung in soft curls around her shoulders. Around her neck was the heart pendant Race had given her for her eighteenth birthday. Her huge, doe-like emerald eyes twinkled. She was no longer the boisterous, mischievous newsie, wearing boys' clothing and ink smeared on the tip of her nose, but rather a beautiful, well-bred woman, possessing every charm and refinement of a princess.
Bean let out a deafening squeal at the sight of Race. She stumbled down the steps of her doorway, tripped over the hem of her skirt with her bare feet, wrapped her arms around Race's neck and planted a huge, sloppy kiss on his lips.
Okay, so maybe Race was wrong.
~~~ A/N: A great big thanks to Steph and her infinite wisdom for cracking my writer's block, and to Mike for trying to help. Oh, and thanks, Emily, for reminding me that I am strange for getting all excited about my fan fictions!! (Just kidding! I luv u girl!)
"Aye, who goes dere?"
Bean timidly walked forward. "Uh, me name's Anna Willer. I'ze da new typesettah."
"Oh, well den, welcome tah da Sun, Anna." Bean jumped, the voice was right behind her. She turned around and looked up at her new employer. He was a plump, strong looking fellow, around fifty years old. He stoked his scraggly gray beard and mustache as he eyed up his new employee. "So, Denton sent ya, did he?"
"Yessir."
"Well, I guess you could be of some use tah me. C'mon I'll show ya around."
Four hours later, Bean stumbled out of the print shop. She struggled to keep her eyes open as she stepped out into the street. After only a few brief instructions, she had been put to work. Luckily, Bean caught on quickly. She managed to get the first section of the paper done by herself. "Governor Catches Cold, May Affect Election Campaign" was the next day's headline. "Dey are definitely hard up fer reportahs," she observed.
~~~
Two streets away, an ebony haired beauty ducked into the unlit, dank alley. Her deep chestnut eyes darted back and forth, checking for any unwelcome guests. She turned around and rapped on the thick hardwood door, three times in quick succession. A few seconds later, the door slowly creaked open. A deep, sonorous voice greeted her. "Hello, Kira."
~~~
Spot sighed as he trudged towards Tibby's. He didn't know why he bothered going there anymore. He always ended up seeing Jack and Mooch there together, and he had to leave before he broke down. But something was telling him he needed to go that night.
He had only walked two steps into the door when he was greeted by a familiar voice.
"Spot!"
Spot looked up. "Sarah?" he asked. He smiled shyly at his old friend.
"What brings you all the way over to Manhattan?"
Spot sighed. "I ain't even sure anymore."
Sarah looked puzzled. "What's wrong?" she asked.
Spot looked at the ground. "I really don't wanna talk about it."
Sarah looked at him, perplexed. "All right," she mumbled. "Well, I've gotta get back to work."
Spot sank down into a booth, propping his head up with his left hand. He brushed a stray lock of golden brown hair from his face as he gazed out the window at the people bustling past. He was shaken from his daze by a startling noise.
Mooch slammed the door of Tibby's shut. She stood in the middle of the dining room with her hands on her hips. "Where's Jack?" she demanded of no one in particular.
Spot smiled at the object of his affection, but his stomach twisted inside as he remembered that she was looking for Jack. She did have an angry tone to her voice, however. "I hope dis means dere havin' problems," Spot mumbled to himself.
Mooch's brilliant cinnamon eyes darted around the room, then locked on to Spot. She slunk towards his table, much like a lion prowls after its prey. As she glided into the cushioned seat across from him, Spot detected a subtle citron scent radiating from her. He savored every last bit of it, breathing in deep. He bit his lip as she leaned forward to adjust her skirt. The fair, delicate skin of her bosom showed itself through the sheer, lacy fabric of her blouse. Spot fidgeted, not able to take his eyes off her curvaceous figure. Her eyes stared intently at the table, as if it held the secrets of the universe. They then slowly shifted upwards to stare fiercely into Spot's eyes. Finally, she spoke.
"Spot, have you seen Jack?" she asked hoarsely.
Spot shook his head timidly. He clasped his hands together to prevent them from trembling.
Mooch leaned forward and rested her hands on his. "I really need to talk to him."
A shiver went up Spot's spine as he became increasingly more aware of his hands. "What about?" he asked as he swallowed hard.
Mooch looked at Spot seriously. "I can't tell you."
"Oh," he replied, not being able to look her in the face. He glanced around the room. Sarah was wiping off a table, and an elderly man, resembling Kloppman, was paying for his meal. A burly man with thick, slicked-back, black hair and a goatee, dressed in a dark, obviously expensive suit entered the diner. Nothing too interesting. Spot shifted his attention back to Mooch.
She tucked a lock of her sleek inky black hair behind her ear. "I really love Jack." she remarked in a distracted voice. "He's just so.perfect."
Spot sighed.
For no clear reason, Mooch abruptly sat upright. "Um, er, Spot, I gotta go." she murmured as she stood up. She whisked out the door as a mouse being pursued by a cat.
~~~
Race adjusted his cap nervously as he made his way up the path to the Willer residence. Tom Willer had quite a bit of money, and he had purchased a rather large house in Manhattan for him and his daughter. Race knocked on the door quietly. He looked down at his dusty clothing and ink- stained hands and felt rather out of place in such beautiful surroundings.
A moment later, Bean came to the door, wearing a cream-colored silk top and a long, flowing skirt. Her hair hung in soft curls around her shoulders. Around her neck was the heart pendant Race had given her for her eighteenth birthday. Her huge, doe-like emerald eyes twinkled. She was no longer the boisterous, mischievous newsie, wearing boys' clothing and ink smeared on the tip of her nose, but rather a beautiful, well-bred woman, possessing every charm and refinement of a princess.
Bean let out a deafening squeal at the sight of Race. She stumbled down the steps of her doorway, tripped over the hem of her skirt with her bare feet, wrapped her arms around Race's neck and planted a huge, sloppy kiss on his lips.
Okay, so maybe Race was wrong.
~~~ A/N: A great big thanks to Steph and her infinite wisdom for cracking my writer's block, and to Mike for trying to help. Oh, and thanks, Emily, for reminding me that I am strange for getting all excited about my fan fictions!! (Just kidding! I luv u girl!)