Bewitching Brooklyn By ~*~AnGeL~*~ Chapter One

          Spot Conlon, infamously feared leader of the Brooklyn newsies, and the source of most teen girls' affections, sat on a crate on the dock, like he always did, watching his newsies swim.  The cool water was good for them on a day like today.  It was hot and sticky, and most of them had just finished up selling the morning's addition. 

          Raven, his right-hand man and most trusted newsie, was taking leaps and dives off the dock, trying to land on Fetch, a younger newsie.  Raven was 16, two years younger than Spot, but probably a lot smarter, at least when it came to books.  Spot was street smart, but Raven had attended a private school, real hoity-toity, before running away from his abusive stepfather.  And for the last three years, Raven had been with Spot.

          He was called Raven for his black hair and almost black eyes.  Also because, despite Raven's brains, he was quite the lady-chaser and thought the nickname added to his sex appeal.  But, girls liked it.  He was built with the body of an ox.  Spot didn't think there was an ounce of fat on the kid.

          He looked to the left to see a few of his newest newsies, Deaf and Robin, making their way towards him.  Deaf still hadn't sold his last four papes.  Spot smiled, it was seven months after the Newsboy's Strike, and everything went back to normal.  Fifty cents for a hundred papes.  Jack had done good, too bad he wasn't doing so hot with Sarah.  Though, personally, Spot never liked her.  He spent some time with her during the rally, when Jack was showing off with Medda.  Sarah was boring and whiney.

          If he were in Jack's position, he'd just do her and be done with it.  But that's how he was.  Girls were great, but he didn't want nor need one hanging off his arm.  And that's how they all were; even the "tough" Brooklyn girls, in the end, they wanted to hold his hand and have him write her poems and be sappy.  The only kind of sweet-nothings he'd be whispering to any woman would be dirty.  That was his favorite form of seduction.  He was bold enough to say the dirtiest things to a girl, just to get a piece of ass. 

          Spot leapt off his crate, "Robin, youse boiys ain't done yit?" he laughed.

          Robin, a cute kid, near nine with a fake limp, nodded, "Yeah, but dah headlines is horrible!" he complained.

          "Hey!  Headlines don't sell papes!" Spot said sternly.  "Newsies sell papes."  He loved that line.

          Deaf rolled his eyes, "I don't know how to improve the truth with these!  'Leaky water main in Mayor's abode,' 'Trolley takes wrong rail, delays ten passengers,' I mean, come on!  I haven't even sold them all yet!" he said, his Connecticut accent sticking out among the other Brooklyn newsies.

          Spot sighed, "Des are easy!  Lemme see.  I'lls show ya how it's done."  He took the papers, wondering into the crowded streets.  Robin and Deaf followed curiously.

          Spot held up a paper, "Extree!  Extree!  Read all about it!  Watah main boists, floods Mayah's house, nearly kills all resoidents!"  Two well-dressed men walked up and each bought a paper.  Spot shouted again, "Trolley runs off track!  Thousands flee in terrah!" A woman near by gasped and bought a paper, searching for the story.

          He was about to call out again when he saw a sweet-looking young woman, probably twenty or so, looking at some flowers a local vender was selling.  He smiled and wondered up to her, "Excuse me, Miss…" he said politely.  She giggled as he threw her one of his most charming smiles, "I'se jist was wonderin' wha a doll like youse self might be doin' latah…"

          She smiled, looking around to make sure no one was listening in, "What about right now?" she asked, giggling again.

          He sighed, "I'se still gat dis pape ta sell…"

          She gave him two cents, "Here, now let's go."

          Spot smiled, kissed her quickly, and gave her butt a good squeeze, then said, "Sorry toots!  I'se can't, but t'anks foh buyin' me pape!"  With that he walked off, leaving her fuming and embarrassed.

          Deaf was in awe, while Robin was laughing hysterically.  Spot just

smirked, "Dat boiys, is how youse sell papes."

          When they got back to the dock, Deaf and Robin ran to the water, whipping off their shirts in the process. 

          Spot headed back to his crate, taking out a marble shooter as he went.  He fiddled with it in his hand, looking for a target.  He saw a bottle sitting atop a wooden beam and took aim, going for the head of the bottle.  Right as he let the marble fly, he was knocked to the ground as a body fell on top of him.