Hills of Eire - Thanks once again! There just might be a romance, but
I don't want it to be the main focal point. Maybe in the sequel ;)
Wsox2004- I noticed that myself earlier, and I thought I had corrected it, but I went back and saw that I hadn't caught all of the mistakes. I'll take care of it. I don't like cheesy romances; the ones that are more complicated interest me better. I'm not going to let it take over the story.
Angelfish7 - You'll just have to wait and see ;)
Kellyerielf - Glad you liked it, I had already started the chapter when I put the one before it up, so it didn't take me long. Hehe..thank you!
A/N --- I don't know if there actually is or was a Doyle Street in Brooklyn, but for the purpose of this story and events to come, I've put it there.
The next day Sadie awoke with a pounding headache. Silently cursing Spot Conlon to the lowest depths of Hell, she splashed water onto her pale face and tied her hair up with a length of gray ribbon. Lacing up her boots, she heard the thunderous footsteps of the newsboys clomping down the stairs to start their day. This time swearing out loud, she left the washroom with a resigned air about her. Spot stood at the doorway, a smirk on his face swinging his cane.
"Good mornin' Sunshine."
"Go to Hell." He barked out a laugh and poked her with his cane as she swept by him. Whirling around furiously, she found herself once more practically nose to nose with the boy. Spot had circles under his eyes, and the hand that he raised to his mouth to take a drag of his cigarette had grazed and swollen knuckles.
"What did you do?" Spot shrugged and shut the door of the lodging house behind them as they walked down the street. Up ahead, the other boys were looking at the overcast sky and praying that the rain would hold off till nightfall.
"I went out last night after I brought you back." Sadie's face turned hot as she fully remembered last night. Clearing her throat, she busied herself by re-wrapping her shawl. Sneaking a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, she caught Spot doing the same, and they both blushed this time.
"When do the nuns let you have a break?" Sadie looked over again at Spot. They were nearing the orphanage. Rocking on her heels, she stopped.
"They let me have lunch at twelve o'clock. That's when the babies take their naps anyway. Why do you want to know?" Spot grinned at her challenging tone.
"I figure maybe if I buy you lunch you'll let me kiss you again." Sadie punched him on the arm, and he contorted his face in mock pain before laughing at her.
"You are an ass, Spot Conlon."
"Hey I resemble that remark." In a huff, Sadie turned to cross the street. Spot caught her arm, and sliding his cane into his belt loop, he looked at her, his face serious.
"I'll be by to get you at twelve." Sadie rolled her eyes and started walking away.
"I won't be there," she hollered over her shoulder as she ran across the cobblestones.
"Have a good day Trouble!" she heard him call as she reached the front stoop of the orphanage. Shaking her head she entered the building, greeted Sister Agnes, and began her day of taking care of ten children under the age of three.
Spot rejoined his gang of newsboys at the Distribution yard. They all were leaning up against the brick wall of the building smoking and yawning. Whiskey stood at the head of the line, and he bowed with a flourish as Spot took his place in front of him.
"So boss, got a new girl?" Spot shot a look at Whiskey. Whiskey's eyes were bleary and he furtively massaged his temples. After Spot had unceremoniously thrown the tipsy Sadie over his shoulder and dumped her into bed, a fact which he was willing to bet she didn't remember, he had gone upstairs, collected Whiskey and the two had gone to a small Irish pub down the street. There they had drank pints and gotten into a brawl with a few factory goons out in the back alley before stumbling home somewhere after three in the morning. The front door had been locked, true to Sam's rule, but Spot had cased the building in the event that this very thing would happen, and he had left the window to his small room open. After dragging Whiskey up the fire escape and sending him to bed, Spot had sat in the windowsill wrapped in his threadbare woolen blanket smoking a cigarette. When dawn appeared, he had gotten the rest of the boys up and waited for Sadie. That was one thing Spot could always do. Survive on no or little sleep. His insomnia had bothered Diamond and countless other girls to no end.
"Sadie's not my girl." Whiskey smiled painfully, and winked at Spot.
"Sure, boss. Whatever you say." Angrily, Spot rapped on the wooden board covering the window where they bought their papers. Jake Dunn, the manager swung the board up and looked at Spot through the bars.
"Keep yer shirt on Conlon, the papers are almost here." The board was promptly dropped back into place. Spot sneered and spat on the ground.
"So if she ain't your girl, you mind if some of the rest of us try her on for size?" Spot's foul mood wasn't helped by Mumbles' question.
"None of you bums are going to 'try her on for size'. Hands off, you hear me?" Mumbles rolled his dark brown eyes and jammed his cap down onto his red hair. He was a strongly built boy of about sixteen a year younger than Spot.
"So she IS your girl."
"SHUT UP WHISKEY!" Spot heard the younger boys giggling at the end of the line. Exasperated, he flung himself down onto a crate and waited for Dunn to get the lead out of his pants and sell them their papers. When he finally bought his papers, Spot left the yard intent on making money. He wasn't sure if chasing Sadie was the wisest thing to do being that they had just met, but something about the girl made him feel comfortable and relaxed. Two things that he had been lacking in for the past month. Reaching his spot, he sold a handful of papers to a gang of men on their way to the factories and was about to walk a ways down the street when the deep voice of a man stopped him in his tracks.
"Hey you, kid." Spot slowly turned around, his eyes ice cold. There were two men standing near him on the sidewalk. Both were rough looking characters with unshaven faces, shifty eyes and clothes that hadn't been washed in awhile. One was fingering a club he wore through a belt loop much as Spot did. The one who spoke had a strange light in his eyes.
"We're looking for a girl. She used to live over my father's shop in Manhattan, but she left a few days ago. I know she was getting to be friends with a gang of newsboys so I figured the chance of her coming to Brooklyn and staying with some of you kids was good. Her name's Sadie. Sadie Pruett. Heard of her?"
"Who's askin'?" Generally Spot didn't mess around with any of the more mature hooligans in the area. He kept his boys in line and soaked any other kids his age and a little older that stepped over their boundaries. But the adults made him nervous.
"Nevermind that, you tell her if you know her to go to 30 Doyle Street, apartment 3A to talk to an old friend."
"Doyle Street? You one of Jasper MacKendrick's boys?" The man with the club snarled and whipped it out waving it in Spot's impassive face.
"Listen here, you little shit. You just pass our message along. We don't answer questions we ask 'em." Spot felt his gaze deaden and his adrenaline speed up like it always did when he got riled.
"Really," he said slowly and flatly. The man with the funny eyes held up a hand and gave the other goon a warning look. Trying to smile pleasantly at Spot, but instead ending up just baring his teeth, the man turned around and walked away. After a second of glaring at Spot the man with the club did so as well. Spot's warning senses were aflame. Doyle Street was known for it's rough bars and even rougher inhabitants. A gang who called themselves the Doyle Street Boys ran that street with bats and brassknuckles. Spot knew Jasper McKendrick well. He had been the older brother of the old leader of the Brooklyn newsboys, Ashes. Indeed, Jasper had saved Spot's ass on many occasions when he had shot his mouth off to an older boy higher on the gang leader ladder.
Looking at the backs of the two goons as they made their way back towards Doyle Street, Spot felt an unexpected urge to see Sadie. He obviously now knew that she was in deep shit to have gotten entangled with someone affiliated with the Doyle boys. A queer sense of worry came over him as he started off towards the orphanage. Spot always looked out for his newsboys and whatever dames he chose to keep around him, but he suddenly wanted to lock Sadie in her bedroom and never let her out of his sight.
"Trouble definitely suits her," he said out loud with a smirk. He didn't notice the man with the strange eyes had stopped and was watching him hurry off in the opposite direction. He didn't see the man smile to himself and begin to follow him making sure to keep out of sight.
Wsox2004- I noticed that myself earlier, and I thought I had corrected it, but I went back and saw that I hadn't caught all of the mistakes. I'll take care of it. I don't like cheesy romances; the ones that are more complicated interest me better. I'm not going to let it take over the story.
Angelfish7 - You'll just have to wait and see ;)
Kellyerielf - Glad you liked it, I had already started the chapter when I put the one before it up, so it didn't take me long. Hehe..thank you!
A/N --- I don't know if there actually is or was a Doyle Street in Brooklyn, but for the purpose of this story and events to come, I've put it there.
The next day Sadie awoke with a pounding headache. Silently cursing Spot Conlon to the lowest depths of Hell, she splashed water onto her pale face and tied her hair up with a length of gray ribbon. Lacing up her boots, she heard the thunderous footsteps of the newsboys clomping down the stairs to start their day. This time swearing out loud, she left the washroom with a resigned air about her. Spot stood at the doorway, a smirk on his face swinging his cane.
"Good mornin' Sunshine."
"Go to Hell." He barked out a laugh and poked her with his cane as she swept by him. Whirling around furiously, she found herself once more practically nose to nose with the boy. Spot had circles under his eyes, and the hand that he raised to his mouth to take a drag of his cigarette had grazed and swollen knuckles.
"What did you do?" Spot shrugged and shut the door of the lodging house behind them as they walked down the street. Up ahead, the other boys were looking at the overcast sky and praying that the rain would hold off till nightfall.
"I went out last night after I brought you back." Sadie's face turned hot as she fully remembered last night. Clearing her throat, she busied herself by re-wrapping her shawl. Sneaking a quick glance out of the corner of her eye, she caught Spot doing the same, and they both blushed this time.
"When do the nuns let you have a break?" Sadie looked over again at Spot. They were nearing the orphanage. Rocking on her heels, she stopped.
"They let me have lunch at twelve o'clock. That's when the babies take their naps anyway. Why do you want to know?" Spot grinned at her challenging tone.
"I figure maybe if I buy you lunch you'll let me kiss you again." Sadie punched him on the arm, and he contorted his face in mock pain before laughing at her.
"You are an ass, Spot Conlon."
"Hey I resemble that remark." In a huff, Sadie turned to cross the street. Spot caught her arm, and sliding his cane into his belt loop, he looked at her, his face serious.
"I'll be by to get you at twelve." Sadie rolled her eyes and started walking away.
"I won't be there," she hollered over her shoulder as she ran across the cobblestones.
"Have a good day Trouble!" she heard him call as she reached the front stoop of the orphanage. Shaking her head she entered the building, greeted Sister Agnes, and began her day of taking care of ten children under the age of three.
Spot rejoined his gang of newsboys at the Distribution yard. They all were leaning up against the brick wall of the building smoking and yawning. Whiskey stood at the head of the line, and he bowed with a flourish as Spot took his place in front of him.
"So boss, got a new girl?" Spot shot a look at Whiskey. Whiskey's eyes were bleary and he furtively massaged his temples. After Spot had unceremoniously thrown the tipsy Sadie over his shoulder and dumped her into bed, a fact which he was willing to bet she didn't remember, he had gone upstairs, collected Whiskey and the two had gone to a small Irish pub down the street. There they had drank pints and gotten into a brawl with a few factory goons out in the back alley before stumbling home somewhere after three in the morning. The front door had been locked, true to Sam's rule, but Spot had cased the building in the event that this very thing would happen, and he had left the window to his small room open. After dragging Whiskey up the fire escape and sending him to bed, Spot had sat in the windowsill wrapped in his threadbare woolen blanket smoking a cigarette. When dawn appeared, he had gotten the rest of the boys up and waited for Sadie. That was one thing Spot could always do. Survive on no or little sleep. His insomnia had bothered Diamond and countless other girls to no end.
"Sadie's not my girl." Whiskey smiled painfully, and winked at Spot.
"Sure, boss. Whatever you say." Angrily, Spot rapped on the wooden board covering the window where they bought their papers. Jake Dunn, the manager swung the board up and looked at Spot through the bars.
"Keep yer shirt on Conlon, the papers are almost here." The board was promptly dropped back into place. Spot sneered and spat on the ground.
"So if she ain't your girl, you mind if some of the rest of us try her on for size?" Spot's foul mood wasn't helped by Mumbles' question.
"None of you bums are going to 'try her on for size'. Hands off, you hear me?" Mumbles rolled his dark brown eyes and jammed his cap down onto his red hair. He was a strongly built boy of about sixteen a year younger than Spot.
"So she IS your girl."
"SHUT UP WHISKEY!" Spot heard the younger boys giggling at the end of the line. Exasperated, he flung himself down onto a crate and waited for Dunn to get the lead out of his pants and sell them their papers. When he finally bought his papers, Spot left the yard intent on making money. He wasn't sure if chasing Sadie was the wisest thing to do being that they had just met, but something about the girl made him feel comfortable and relaxed. Two things that he had been lacking in for the past month. Reaching his spot, he sold a handful of papers to a gang of men on their way to the factories and was about to walk a ways down the street when the deep voice of a man stopped him in his tracks.
"Hey you, kid." Spot slowly turned around, his eyes ice cold. There were two men standing near him on the sidewalk. Both were rough looking characters with unshaven faces, shifty eyes and clothes that hadn't been washed in awhile. One was fingering a club he wore through a belt loop much as Spot did. The one who spoke had a strange light in his eyes.
"We're looking for a girl. She used to live over my father's shop in Manhattan, but she left a few days ago. I know she was getting to be friends with a gang of newsboys so I figured the chance of her coming to Brooklyn and staying with some of you kids was good. Her name's Sadie. Sadie Pruett. Heard of her?"
"Who's askin'?" Generally Spot didn't mess around with any of the more mature hooligans in the area. He kept his boys in line and soaked any other kids his age and a little older that stepped over their boundaries. But the adults made him nervous.
"Nevermind that, you tell her if you know her to go to 30 Doyle Street, apartment 3A to talk to an old friend."
"Doyle Street? You one of Jasper MacKendrick's boys?" The man with the club snarled and whipped it out waving it in Spot's impassive face.
"Listen here, you little shit. You just pass our message along. We don't answer questions we ask 'em." Spot felt his gaze deaden and his adrenaline speed up like it always did when he got riled.
"Really," he said slowly and flatly. The man with the funny eyes held up a hand and gave the other goon a warning look. Trying to smile pleasantly at Spot, but instead ending up just baring his teeth, the man turned around and walked away. After a second of glaring at Spot the man with the club did so as well. Spot's warning senses were aflame. Doyle Street was known for it's rough bars and even rougher inhabitants. A gang who called themselves the Doyle Street Boys ran that street with bats and brassknuckles. Spot knew Jasper McKendrick well. He had been the older brother of the old leader of the Brooklyn newsboys, Ashes. Indeed, Jasper had saved Spot's ass on many occasions when he had shot his mouth off to an older boy higher on the gang leader ladder.
Looking at the backs of the two goons as they made their way back towards Doyle Street, Spot felt an unexpected urge to see Sadie. He obviously now knew that she was in deep shit to have gotten entangled with someone affiliated with the Doyle boys. A queer sense of worry came over him as he started off towards the orphanage. Spot always looked out for his newsboys and whatever dames he chose to keep around him, but he suddenly wanted to lock Sadie in her bedroom and never let her out of his sight.
"Trouble definitely suits her," he said out loud with a smirk. He didn't notice the man with the strange eyes had stopped and was watching him hurry off in the opposite direction. He didn't see the man smile to himself and begin to follow him making sure to keep out of sight.