Ok, really short chapter. I haven't had much time lately, but I will update
again soon.
Chapter Five
Dawn broke over the Brooklyn Bridge as Morris crossed it at a clipped pace. He hadn't been to Brooklyn in what seemed like years, but he still knew his way through the twisting back alleys that led to the docks where he knew he'd find Spot.
Morris was greeted by the plaintive wail of a harmonica. He could see Spot's outline against the gray sky in the shadowy morning light. Abruptly the playing stopped and the head of the outline turned sharply toward him. "Morris?" Spot Conlon's voice rang out, suspicious and cold.
Morris took a deep breath and said, "Heya, Spot."
Spot stepped from the shadows. The Brooklyn leader was tall and sinewy. He was younger than Morris by nearly three years, but there was a keen intelligence in his eyes. Those eyes looked him over silently. He must have noted the smattering of blood on Morris' clothes, but he didn't say anything except, "You took time out of your busy schedule to come and see me. I'm flattered." He smirked and added, "Where's your shadow?"
Morris didn't reply for a moment; when he did, it was to say in a lifeless monotone, "Sully's dead."
The trademark smirk faded from his face; something flickered in his winter gray eyes. "How?"
"The bulls."
"Morris-"
"Don't."
"I just-"
He stopped him with a wave of his hand. "Don't, Spot-"
Spot nodded, his face stony again. "Fine. Why come to me?"
Morris swallowed and said slowly, "We need your help."
He'd actually managed to shock Spot Conlon. "My help?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
Morris knew he had a matter of moments to make his point before Spot's boys showed up and he was booted out of Brooklyn. "There ain't enough of us without the others."
"And why come to me?" he asked, more to hear Morris' answer than to know the actual reason. That everyone knew: you want to win a fight, you get Brooklyn on your side.
"If you join us, so will they. They fear you, they follow you. They respect you. Even I respect you, and I hate you," Morris couldn't resist adding.
Spot smiled wryly, considering. Then he turned away. "I don't think I can help you, Cohen."
"Dammit, Spot, Sully had to die before I'd come to you for help! Who else has to die before you'll give it?"
The only sound was the lapping of the waves beneath the pier and the gulls flying overhead. Until Spot said quietly, "No one."
"We can't give up!"
David looked up at Annie with weary, bloodshot eyes. "Annie, we don't have a choice."
"So that's it? We got back to work and Sully died for nothing?" Annie demanded.
David opened his mouth to answer, when suddenly the door swung open and Blink ran in. He was breathless and shocked. "What is it?" David asked, sitting up.
"It's Spot," he choked out.
"What? Spot's here? In Manhattan?"
"He'll be here-"
"I'm here now."
All eyes in the room turned to Spot. He had a way of doing that. Passing him on the street, someone might not think that the tall, skinny redhead with the faded pink suspenders was the leader of anything. But newsies all knew him on sight, whether they'd met him or not. It was in his eyes.
"Spot," David said, standing.
"Dave," he said briefly, then smiled slightly at Annie. "Heya, Annie."
"Spot, look, not that it ain't great to see you, but why you here?" David asked before Annie could reply.
Spot continued as if David hadn't spoken, "I heard about Sully. I'm sorry." It was only after Annie had nodded that he turned to Dave. "That's why I'm here. We can't let 'em do that to us, can't let 'em get away with it. So I say you keep at it, and my boys'll be over here in the morning to help you."
"You're gonna help us?" David asked suspiciously.
At Spot's nod, Blink said quietly. "We've got Brooklyn. That means we've got Queens and the Bronx."
Annie broke in cheerfully, "It means we're gonna win!" She cast a sidelong glance at David, silently questioning.
He shrugged, "Looks like it."
Chapter Five
Dawn broke over the Brooklyn Bridge as Morris crossed it at a clipped pace. He hadn't been to Brooklyn in what seemed like years, but he still knew his way through the twisting back alleys that led to the docks where he knew he'd find Spot.
Morris was greeted by the plaintive wail of a harmonica. He could see Spot's outline against the gray sky in the shadowy morning light. Abruptly the playing stopped and the head of the outline turned sharply toward him. "Morris?" Spot Conlon's voice rang out, suspicious and cold.
Morris took a deep breath and said, "Heya, Spot."
Spot stepped from the shadows. The Brooklyn leader was tall and sinewy. He was younger than Morris by nearly three years, but there was a keen intelligence in his eyes. Those eyes looked him over silently. He must have noted the smattering of blood on Morris' clothes, but he didn't say anything except, "You took time out of your busy schedule to come and see me. I'm flattered." He smirked and added, "Where's your shadow?"
Morris didn't reply for a moment; when he did, it was to say in a lifeless monotone, "Sully's dead."
The trademark smirk faded from his face; something flickered in his winter gray eyes. "How?"
"The bulls."
"Morris-"
"Don't."
"I just-"
He stopped him with a wave of his hand. "Don't, Spot-"
Spot nodded, his face stony again. "Fine. Why come to me?"
Morris swallowed and said slowly, "We need your help."
He'd actually managed to shock Spot Conlon. "My help?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
Morris knew he had a matter of moments to make his point before Spot's boys showed up and he was booted out of Brooklyn. "There ain't enough of us without the others."
"And why come to me?" he asked, more to hear Morris' answer than to know the actual reason. That everyone knew: you want to win a fight, you get Brooklyn on your side.
"If you join us, so will they. They fear you, they follow you. They respect you. Even I respect you, and I hate you," Morris couldn't resist adding.
Spot smiled wryly, considering. Then he turned away. "I don't think I can help you, Cohen."
"Dammit, Spot, Sully had to die before I'd come to you for help! Who else has to die before you'll give it?"
The only sound was the lapping of the waves beneath the pier and the gulls flying overhead. Until Spot said quietly, "No one."
"We can't give up!"
David looked up at Annie with weary, bloodshot eyes. "Annie, we don't have a choice."
"So that's it? We got back to work and Sully died for nothing?" Annie demanded.
David opened his mouth to answer, when suddenly the door swung open and Blink ran in. He was breathless and shocked. "What is it?" David asked, sitting up.
"It's Spot," he choked out.
"What? Spot's here? In Manhattan?"
"He'll be here-"
"I'm here now."
All eyes in the room turned to Spot. He had a way of doing that. Passing him on the street, someone might not think that the tall, skinny redhead with the faded pink suspenders was the leader of anything. But newsies all knew him on sight, whether they'd met him or not. It was in his eyes.
"Spot," David said, standing.
"Dave," he said briefly, then smiled slightly at Annie. "Heya, Annie."
"Spot, look, not that it ain't great to see you, but why you here?" David asked before Annie could reply.
Spot continued as if David hadn't spoken, "I heard about Sully. I'm sorry." It was only after Annie had nodded that he turned to Dave. "That's why I'm here. We can't let 'em do that to us, can't let 'em get away with it. So I say you keep at it, and my boys'll be over here in the morning to help you."
"You're gonna help us?" David asked suspiciously.
At Spot's nod, Blink said quietly. "We've got Brooklyn. That means we've got Queens and the Bronx."
Annie broke in cheerfully, "It means we're gonna win!" She cast a sidelong glance at David, silently questioning.
He shrugged, "Looks like it."
