Disclaimer: I don't own any of the newsies, but I do own the characters
that I make up and what not.
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PROLOGUE:
Chicago; 1899:
Her lips were smothered in bright red lipstick, her eyes plastered with the latest trendy color of eye shadow, and her cheeks pink with the over use of blush. The dress that she wore hugged her body so tightly it looked impossible to breathe. With its scandalous low cut neck line her bosom hung out to show just the right amount of cleavage to catch every mans gaze. This was her profession, if you could even call it that, she seduced men, or put in a not so dignified way, she was a hooker. But not by choice, no, she resented herself, she hated herself for what she did. Trapped by a bunch of tattered dreams and what ifs, she felt as though there were no way out.
A girl with equal amount of make-up, and lack of clothing approached her, "Grace, you got anybody for tonight?" As she spoke one of her dark brown curls fell from the cluster of the others and landed dangling in front of her eye. She reached her hand up to brush it away and as she reached up the moonlight illuminated the bruise that covered her wiry arm.
"Veronica, you didn't see him again did you?" Grace stated horrified by the bruise that was on her arm.
"As a matter of fact, I did see him again, not that it is any of your business" Veronica replied ripping her arm down to her side and subconsciously began stroking the bruise. "Its not as bad as it looks, He was just mad, I deserved it"
"Oh shut up, no you did not, when are you going to learn, he doesn't love you, he never did, or will, he's using you, can't you see,-" Grace's voice was cut short. A look of shear panic swept over her face. Her gaze fell on a man that stood at the end of the alley, they were standing outside of. He was dressed in a dark black suit, with a matching black top hat. His handle bar mustache curled just out side of his nose. The front of his suit bulged out to accommodate his belly. A vicious sneer was plastered upon his twisted and down right ugly face.
"Run" Grace whispered to Veronica in a desperate voice.
The two girls took of running down the streets of Chicago with their skirts clutched in hand.
"Grace he's gaining on us" Veronica whimpered hoarsely. She turned her head to see how much distance was between them and their chaser and did not notice the man with the gun pointed at her standing in the alley across the way.
BANG
With a high pitched screech Veronica tumbled to the ground. Her skirt had fallen above her knees exposing some of her skinny upper thigh. She clutched her chest where the bullet had entered and looked up and Grace.
"Veronica" Grace shrieked and dropped down to the ground beside her and grasped her hand. Grace knew that the blood that was pouring out of Veronica's left chest was not a good sign.
"Go on with out me" Veronica whispered hoarsely. "Don't give in Grace, don't-". With that Veronica past on to the eternal darkness. Grace felt her hand go limp in her own.
With fury in her eyes Grace stood up and began to run. She ran like running was all she could do. When she stopped in a distant alley she reached up and touched her check, and it was wet, she was crying. By now the tears flowed down in a steady stream. With her chest heaving she broke out in sobs. Before she knew it she was on the ground throwing up her so called lunch from earlier. Exhausted she collapsed on the ground, and passed out cold.
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New York City; 1899:
The streets rang with the sounds of squealing children and shouting teens. They had done the impossible; the newsies of New York City had challenged the all mighty powerful Joe Pulitzer, and won. This was one glorious day. All the working kids in New York were out in the streets celebrating, all but one.
His name was Spot Conlon, the leader of the most feared newsies of all the boroughs. With his rugged good looks and his charming personality he could get any girl he wanted to fall in love with him. Half the girls of New York wanted to be with him while the other half already had. But even with all the girls he had been with he couldn't help but think about the one that got away. The one that did not swoon over him and the one who refused to have any part of a romantic relationship with him. The one who happened to be his best friend's sister.
Grace Kelly (a/n: She changed her last name to match Jack's) was her name. She was no amazing beauty but there was still something about her that made Spot feel something that he had never felt before. The way her light brown hair stood up on end when she woke up in the morning, or how she was no good at selling papes. The way that she punched Race when he told her she couldn't play poker because she was a girl. She was a hot head who told off or beat down anyone who got in her way. It was the little quirky things she did that made Spot fall head over heels in love with her. But he lost his chance with her, she was gone, and before she left she clearly stated that she would never be back again, even if her life depended on it.
Or so she thought.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Alright random idea I had/have. It'll get better, and it'll have more newsies. I know I have yet to finish my other story but I will, I'm working on it right know, its coming down to the end and I have to figure out how to end it. But anyway, tell me what you think about this story, Good? Bad? I'll try and update as soon as I can.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
PROLOGUE:
Chicago; 1899:
Her lips were smothered in bright red lipstick, her eyes plastered with the latest trendy color of eye shadow, and her cheeks pink with the over use of blush. The dress that she wore hugged her body so tightly it looked impossible to breathe. With its scandalous low cut neck line her bosom hung out to show just the right amount of cleavage to catch every mans gaze. This was her profession, if you could even call it that, she seduced men, or put in a not so dignified way, she was a hooker. But not by choice, no, she resented herself, she hated herself for what she did. Trapped by a bunch of tattered dreams and what ifs, she felt as though there were no way out.
A girl with equal amount of make-up, and lack of clothing approached her, "Grace, you got anybody for tonight?" As she spoke one of her dark brown curls fell from the cluster of the others and landed dangling in front of her eye. She reached her hand up to brush it away and as she reached up the moonlight illuminated the bruise that covered her wiry arm.
"Veronica, you didn't see him again did you?" Grace stated horrified by the bruise that was on her arm.
"As a matter of fact, I did see him again, not that it is any of your business" Veronica replied ripping her arm down to her side and subconsciously began stroking the bruise. "Its not as bad as it looks, He was just mad, I deserved it"
"Oh shut up, no you did not, when are you going to learn, he doesn't love you, he never did, or will, he's using you, can't you see,-" Grace's voice was cut short. A look of shear panic swept over her face. Her gaze fell on a man that stood at the end of the alley, they were standing outside of. He was dressed in a dark black suit, with a matching black top hat. His handle bar mustache curled just out side of his nose. The front of his suit bulged out to accommodate his belly. A vicious sneer was plastered upon his twisted and down right ugly face.
"Run" Grace whispered to Veronica in a desperate voice.
The two girls took of running down the streets of Chicago with their skirts clutched in hand.
"Grace he's gaining on us" Veronica whimpered hoarsely. She turned her head to see how much distance was between them and their chaser and did not notice the man with the gun pointed at her standing in the alley across the way.
BANG
With a high pitched screech Veronica tumbled to the ground. Her skirt had fallen above her knees exposing some of her skinny upper thigh. She clutched her chest where the bullet had entered and looked up and Grace.
"Veronica" Grace shrieked and dropped down to the ground beside her and grasped her hand. Grace knew that the blood that was pouring out of Veronica's left chest was not a good sign.
"Go on with out me" Veronica whispered hoarsely. "Don't give in Grace, don't-". With that Veronica past on to the eternal darkness. Grace felt her hand go limp in her own.
With fury in her eyes Grace stood up and began to run. She ran like running was all she could do. When she stopped in a distant alley she reached up and touched her check, and it was wet, she was crying. By now the tears flowed down in a steady stream. With her chest heaving she broke out in sobs. Before she knew it she was on the ground throwing up her so called lunch from earlier. Exhausted she collapsed on the ground, and passed out cold.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
New York City; 1899:
The streets rang with the sounds of squealing children and shouting teens. They had done the impossible; the newsies of New York City had challenged the all mighty powerful Joe Pulitzer, and won. This was one glorious day. All the working kids in New York were out in the streets celebrating, all but one.
His name was Spot Conlon, the leader of the most feared newsies of all the boroughs. With his rugged good looks and his charming personality he could get any girl he wanted to fall in love with him. Half the girls of New York wanted to be with him while the other half already had. But even with all the girls he had been with he couldn't help but think about the one that got away. The one that did not swoon over him and the one who refused to have any part of a romantic relationship with him. The one who happened to be his best friend's sister.
Grace Kelly (a/n: She changed her last name to match Jack's) was her name. She was no amazing beauty but there was still something about her that made Spot feel something that he had never felt before. The way her light brown hair stood up on end when she woke up in the morning, or how she was no good at selling papes. The way that she punched Race when he told her she couldn't play poker because she was a girl. She was a hot head who told off or beat down anyone who got in her way. It was the little quirky things she did that made Spot fall head over heels in love with her. But he lost his chance with her, she was gone, and before she left she clearly stated that she would never be back again, even if her life depended on it.
Or so she thought.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A/N: Alright random idea I had/have. It'll get better, and it'll have more newsies. I know I have yet to finish my other story but I will, I'm working on it right know, its coming down to the end and I have to figure out how to end it. But anyway, tell me what you think about this story, Good? Bad? I'll try and update as soon as I can.