As soon as we entered Medda's, I knew tonight was going to be more
than tedious. There were factions of other newsie groups there, although
tonight's performance wasn't going to be a large one. I knew Meesh was
performing, and unfortunately that had drawn out a sizeable contingency of
Brooklyn's. I was shocked at the audacity that the Brooklyn boys had to
flaunt themselves on Manhattan's turf. Apparently Manhattan was just as
taken aback.
"Jack, what the Hell is this?" Blink hissed towards Jack, his usually good-natured face flushed a dull red with anger. Even Mush, loveable, friendly, soft-hearted Mush was frowning over at the table where ten or twelve Brooklyn newsies cavorted.
"I'm sorry boys, but they DID pay to get in tonight," The soft, highly feminine accent made them all jump as Medda appeared at Cowboy's shoulder. She was dressed in pink fluff, and looked gorgeous. I elbowed Race in the gut as his eyes grew large at the sight of her. He snickered and rubbed his stomach while slinging his arm around my neck. Jack held up a hand and grinned slightly at Medda.
"A payin' customer's a payin' customer. Something all of us boys know about, huh fellas? Don't worry about it, Medda; you have your own rights. This place is yours whether or not it's in Manhattan. Just make sure those boys behave themselves, or else they'll be answering to us." I felt a coil of fear tighten in my stomach at the firm nods of the other boys around us. Once again it seemed people were in danger of getting hurt, and it was all my fault.
We took our normal seats at the tables that were, regrettably next to Brooklyn's. There were muffled threats and glares cast back and forth on both sides. I didn't want to look over, but felt someone boring holes into my back. When I turned my head, Spot was staring at me, his expression fierce and tense. I saw his eyes land on where Race had his arm about my waist and they flew back to my face, piercingly angry. I saw him mouth the word 'whore' at me before he turned his attention back to the stage.
I stiffened, and Racetrack felt my body freeze underneath his hand. Thinking it was something that he had done, he pulled away apologizing immediately. I hastened to correct him, but didn't let slip what Spot had done. I didn't want the boys getting even more riled so soon. I caught Pokey's eye briefly and she gave me a hidden, sad smile before looking back at Jack, her thoughts written all over her face. With Brooklyn and Manhattan fighting she hadn't been able to spend any time with Jack, and I knew it must be eating her up inside.
"Spot;" I looked up to see Jack standing at the head of the Brooklyn table, his eyes on Spot. Spot glanced at him, his blue eyes guarded before rising up slowly. Jack extended his hand and waited.
"Truce. For Medda's sake, for tonight, let's truce." Spot looked at Jack so long that I thought maybe he hadn't even heard him before he clasped his own hand into Jack's. With a sidelong glance at me, he answered back, his voice raspy.
"Truce for tonight Jacky-boy. We'll see how long after that it lasts." I felt my heart slide into the pit of my stomach. So he was angry with me now, a fact which would only prolong the arguing. Spot sat back down, the knuckles wrapped around his cane bone-white. My mouth was dry and felt like I had spent the afternoon actually eating the newspapers that had come back unsold.
Racetrack's hand found its way to the back of my neck where he squeezed the sore muscles. I didn't realize how tense I was until he started doing that. I fixed my gaze onto the stage where the show had started, and instantly began downing pint after pint.
"'Ey, slow down Misery," Race whispered into my ear as I light- headedly found myself giggling at a comic routine involving a dog chasing a man dressed as a policeman around on stage. I waved a hand at Racetrack and assured him that I was fine. He gave me a dubious look and a tight smile. He wasn't a fool; he knew I was going to get blindingly drunk tonight if it was the last thing I was going to do. I was uncomfortable, and like in most situations that involved me, alcohol, and being uncomfortable, I usually solved it in the only way that I knew how.
Somewhere in the course of the night, the waitress began leaving me glasses of water instead of pints of ale. I was far gone enough that I didn't notice, just gulped down the water. I think that it saved me from being horribly sick, and possibly getting so drunk that I blacked out. The Manhattan newsies ended up leaving the theater before the show was over. I think at the time it was a gesture meant to show that they didn't want trouble, but I suppose Brooklyn took offense to their leaving early, somehow seeing it as an affront to Meesh, and their tentative truce.
Halfway back to the lodging house, the group turned down a side alley to take a short cut only to find it blocked with Brooklyn newsies. Spot stood, his arms folded across his chest, his cane glittering in the moonlight. I winced as I recognized most of Brooklyn's biggest boys in the crowd. I saw Riddle; his eye's locked with Bourbon's standing off to one side, his hands hanging unclenched at his sides. Bourbon looked like she was about to witness someone kick a puppy.
"What's this all about, Spot? I thought we had a truce?" Spot spat onto the cobblestones in front of Jack, his features screwed up tightly in anger.
"I thought so too, Jacky-boy. But then what do I see? You and your newsies scootin' out of Medda's like someone had lit your asses on fire. Not a very polite thing to do, ya know." Jack snorted, and managed to look amused although I knew his thoughts were racing a mile a minute.
"Spot, don't do this," my words were slightly slurred and I boldly stepped to the front. I saw more than a few of the Brooklyn newsies clench their fists at my appearance. Spot smiled coldly at me, and his eyes flickered to where Racetrack stood. Slowly, he sneered and pointed at me with his cane.
"You don't even deserve a response," was all he said softly before with a swift motion of his cane, the Brooklyn boys charged. I found myself roughly shoved up against a wall, along with Bourbon, Pistol, and even Pokey. A few boys stood in front of us, supposedly to make sure nothing happened, but it wasn't long before they got dragged into the fight.
"Screw this!" Bourbon yowled at me and Pistol before jumping onto the back of the nearest Brooklyn boy, and boxing his ears. Pistol and I shrugged, and leapt into the fray, Pokey hanging back. I could understand her hesitation. While the Manhattan girls had never really gotten close to the Brooklyn boys, Pokey was a Brooklyn newsie, who was also very close and friendly with every single Manhattan newsie. I saw her finally square her shoulders and throw a punch at Kid Blink who looked at her in astonishment and with an apologetic grin picked her up and tossed her into a pile of boxes. I noticed that she wisely stayed down after that.
Pistol was busy trying to beat the living daylights out of Pick, the Brooklyn boy who had sprung Spot and I out of my brother's basement. He was in the meantime trying not to hurt her. Bourbon had been thrown off of the back of the Brooklyn newsie and was frantically dodging punches. Apparently this boy had no problems with hitting a girl. She was saved by a quick smack to the boy's temple that made him drop like a stone. When she looked up, nose bleeding to see who had come to her aid, all she saw was Riddle's back moving on to the next boy.
Our boys were faring much better than we were. Not surprisingly Jack and Spot had matched off, while the rest just tried to beat up whoever was in their path. I myself went after Knuckles. There he stood, a shit-eating grin in front of his face, pounding a fist into the open palm of his other hand. I felt anger envelop me and I surged forward with a right hook that he easily dodged and followed up with a sharp jab to my kidney as I went past him. I hissed in pain and whirled around.
"Come on girlie, show me whatcha got," he snarled. This time I connected, hearing the sickening thud of flesh meeting flesh when my hand hit him on the cheek. He winced and hit me in the stomach. I thought I was going to barf, but luckily he hadn't hit me that hard. His hands caught my shoulders and he shoved me to the ground and drew back a leg, ready to kick. I rolled away and was ready to jump up when I saw Racetrack tackle him and the two moved off, punching and hurling insults at each other. Someone grasped me by the shoulder and ripped me to my feet.
I found myself staring into Spot's murderous eyes as he slammed me up against the alley wall. We stood there for a second, not saying anything, breathing heavily. His hair was in his face and he had blood running from a cut near his left eye. I looked about for Jack, but he was busy rescuing Mush from two Brooklyn kids.
"I should have known you'd go for Racetrack," he spat at me. I narrowed my eyes and bared my teeth at him.
"You didn't want me, and he did. He's wanted me all along; I was just too stupid to see past your fake charms to his real feelings."
"My fake charms? You think everything I said or did was because I didn't like yah?"
"Who knows what you'd say to get a girl into bed," I retorted sharply. Spot's face was incredulous as he gazed down at me, his grip tightening on my arms.
"You're fucking crazy, Misery. Crazy and maybe a little too much trouble to be worth it. You can have Racetrack; just don't ever forget that I told ya you meant a lot to me."
"Oh yeah and when was that?" I fought back tears and it was starting to feel like a losing battle as my eyes watered furiously and began to sting. Spot gave me a soft half-smile.
"I just said it, didn't I?" And with that, he left just as suddenly as he'd appeared my by side. A piercing whistle sounded in the air, and everyone froze thinking that it was the bulls. But Spot stood on a crate, his hands in his mouth which he brought down once he realized he had everyone's attention.
"That was a good fight, wasn't it boys?" The Brooklyn boys cheered and to everyone's immense surprise began clapping the Manhattan kids on the backs. Jack went so far as to stare at Spot, his mouth hanging open.
"Ahhh that's just what we needed. See ya around kiddos." And with a disarming grin, and a wink, Spot and the Brooklyn newsies departed. We stood in silence for a few heartbeats until Kid Blink threw up his hands and roared in frustration.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"
"I think we was bein' tested," Racetrack said thoughtfully lighting his cigar. He limped over to my side, and I hastily checked him over, biting my lip. He appeared alright, save for a bloody nose and a rapidly swelling eye.
"TESTED HOW?" Blink's screaming was a little humorous and more than a few of us giggled nervously, our adrenaline rushes fading, the pain settling in. Jack snorted and lit a smoke of his own as he moved around, checking everyone out.
"Testing us to see how tough we were, how strong our loyalties lay. Obviously know they know we're willing to fight back for what's ours so they know our boundaries. I don't think we'll be seeing any trouble from them for awhile." This lightened the mood, and immensely pleased with themselves, the boys set out for the lodging house, helping each other along and relating their battle stories.
Us girls hung back, quiet and somewhat reserved. Riddle had slung Pokey over his shoulder when they had left, and we were worried that she was hurt badly. Bourbon hastened to say that she doubted Pokey was that hurt.
"Pokey's a tough lil broad, she's fine I bet." Bourbon seemed disturbed about something, and I was more than a little unsettled about Spot's vehement declaration. Pistol limped along smiling like a loon. Apparently she'd had a lot of fun sparring with Pick. I shook my head as she yammered brightly about the fight. Kid Blink shook his head at her, having dropped back to make sure we were okay. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he heaved a sigh before grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder.
"God those two are too much," Bourbon said with a smile. I watched in agreement as Pistol screamed for him to put her down and Blink shook his head with glee. I darted a glance at Bourbon's glum face.
"What's the matter with you, you're starting to remind me of Skittery." Bourbon chuckled at this and shrugged, snagging my cigarette as I lit it and taking the first drag. Exhaling she gave it back and looked at me, her odd colored eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
"I just realized I'm in love," she said with a disheartened tone. I burst out laughing and she punched me on the arm, her face a thundercloud.
"That's NOT funny!" she hissed at me. I sobered up and put my hand on her shoulder.
"You're acting like somebody died, not like you're in love."
"Yeah, well. I feel like somebody died. I've never BEEN in love. It's scary as HELL. What if he doesn't like me back?" I snorted and raised an eyebrow.
"D'you mean Riddle?" When she nodded, I grinned.
"I don't think you have anything to worry about," I said. She looked at me doubtfully before stuffing her hands in her pockets and refusing to talk anymore about the situation.
After that night, the days and nights went by turning into months. Brooklyn stayed mostly to themselves, healing up their grief over Cards and getting over their boiling anger. Soon they began to trickle back into Manhattan, one by one to visit friends and re-claim girls, or friendships that had grown lax.
Spot never came to Manhattan though. In fact, I hadn't seen hide or tail of him since that night. Jack went to Brooklyn to see him, but whereas before, when Race would tag along, it was made quite clear that he wasn't wanted around by the King of Brooklyn. I began to think that I wouldn't see Spot again, until something happened that changed that very quickly....
SHOUT OUTS!
Shaug - I never thanked you for your review before, so I will now. Thanks! And I agree!
Erinsailorditz -- *hangs head* I'm sorry I disappointed you. BUT! That just leaves room for me to write a whooooooole 'nother story about Spot and a DIFFERENT girl.*wink*
JustDuck - Yeah it's not quite over. Almost, but not quite. I don't think it'll reach twenty chapters, but ya never know. This one was actually long, my creative juices were flowin'.
Pokey7 - Hmmm yes this means Jack doesn't have a girlfriend....yet. *wiggles eyebrows*
Chelsea - I'm glad you're enjoying it although it DOES seem to have quite the conflicting love/hate thing going on with it's many issues. But, that's me in a nutshell. Racetrack is too damn cute to ever be the bad guy. I don't think he'd be capable of it.
NadaZimri - Yay new reviewer! Angst can be good sometimes, hehe.Yeah I decided to let Race be happy for once. For now. Ooooh..I'm evil. Thanks for reviewing I appreciate it! Oh lordy the Gaelic even made ME shiver and I was writin' the darn thing.
Netangel182 - Hey I'm just glad you stuck around to BE the 100th reviewer! I'm glad people are enjoying this to have read so far. Thank you so much!
My Dog Ate My Penname - Psh, I like your reviews, they're cute as hell. *pats Spot's head* Calm down lovey you'll be in the story soon enough.
Kays14 - Thank you very much! Yay for another new reviewer!!
Lanen1 - Whoo hooo ANOTHER new reviewer! I'd dance for you all, but you'd run away screaming because I just can't dance. *sobs* Thanks for reading my story! I'm glad you like it.
*Misery stops typing and glances around*
Misery : However, there are a few of you who have me on your alert list or favorite story list and you haven't reviewed. Don't be shy! Step up one and all, drinks all around!
Racetrack : Wrong movie, dork
*slaps Race upside the head*
Misery : Don't get sassy with me or else I'll get Jack Sparrow to set you straight.
*Race makes a face and holds up his hands*
Okay enough of my dorkiness. Review people! Tell me how much you like it or hate it.
"Jack, what the Hell is this?" Blink hissed towards Jack, his usually good-natured face flushed a dull red with anger. Even Mush, loveable, friendly, soft-hearted Mush was frowning over at the table where ten or twelve Brooklyn newsies cavorted.
"I'm sorry boys, but they DID pay to get in tonight," The soft, highly feminine accent made them all jump as Medda appeared at Cowboy's shoulder. She was dressed in pink fluff, and looked gorgeous. I elbowed Race in the gut as his eyes grew large at the sight of her. He snickered and rubbed his stomach while slinging his arm around my neck. Jack held up a hand and grinned slightly at Medda.
"A payin' customer's a payin' customer. Something all of us boys know about, huh fellas? Don't worry about it, Medda; you have your own rights. This place is yours whether or not it's in Manhattan. Just make sure those boys behave themselves, or else they'll be answering to us." I felt a coil of fear tighten in my stomach at the firm nods of the other boys around us. Once again it seemed people were in danger of getting hurt, and it was all my fault.
We took our normal seats at the tables that were, regrettably next to Brooklyn's. There were muffled threats and glares cast back and forth on both sides. I didn't want to look over, but felt someone boring holes into my back. When I turned my head, Spot was staring at me, his expression fierce and tense. I saw his eyes land on where Race had his arm about my waist and they flew back to my face, piercingly angry. I saw him mouth the word 'whore' at me before he turned his attention back to the stage.
I stiffened, and Racetrack felt my body freeze underneath his hand. Thinking it was something that he had done, he pulled away apologizing immediately. I hastened to correct him, but didn't let slip what Spot had done. I didn't want the boys getting even more riled so soon. I caught Pokey's eye briefly and she gave me a hidden, sad smile before looking back at Jack, her thoughts written all over her face. With Brooklyn and Manhattan fighting she hadn't been able to spend any time with Jack, and I knew it must be eating her up inside.
"Spot;" I looked up to see Jack standing at the head of the Brooklyn table, his eyes on Spot. Spot glanced at him, his blue eyes guarded before rising up slowly. Jack extended his hand and waited.
"Truce. For Medda's sake, for tonight, let's truce." Spot looked at Jack so long that I thought maybe he hadn't even heard him before he clasped his own hand into Jack's. With a sidelong glance at me, he answered back, his voice raspy.
"Truce for tonight Jacky-boy. We'll see how long after that it lasts." I felt my heart slide into the pit of my stomach. So he was angry with me now, a fact which would only prolong the arguing. Spot sat back down, the knuckles wrapped around his cane bone-white. My mouth was dry and felt like I had spent the afternoon actually eating the newspapers that had come back unsold.
Racetrack's hand found its way to the back of my neck where he squeezed the sore muscles. I didn't realize how tense I was until he started doing that. I fixed my gaze onto the stage where the show had started, and instantly began downing pint after pint.
"'Ey, slow down Misery," Race whispered into my ear as I light- headedly found myself giggling at a comic routine involving a dog chasing a man dressed as a policeman around on stage. I waved a hand at Racetrack and assured him that I was fine. He gave me a dubious look and a tight smile. He wasn't a fool; he knew I was going to get blindingly drunk tonight if it was the last thing I was going to do. I was uncomfortable, and like in most situations that involved me, alcohol, and being uncomfortable, I usually solved it in the only way that I knew how.
Somewhere in the course of the night, the waitress began leaving me glasses of water instead of pints of ale. I was far gone enough that I didn't notice, just gulped down the water. I think that it saved me from being horribly sick, and possibly getting so drunk that I blacked out. The Manhattan newsies ended up leaving the theater before the show was over. I think at the time it was a gesture meant to show that they didn't want trouble, but I suppose Brooklyn took offense to their leaving early, somehow seeing it as an affront to Meesh, and their tentative truce.
Halfway back to the lodging house, the group turned down a side alley to take a short cut only to find it blocked with Brooklyn newsies. Spot stood, his arms folded across his chest, his cane glittering in the moonlight. I winced as I recognized most of Brooklyn's biggest boys in the crowd. I saw Riddle; his eye's locked with Bourbon's standing off to one side, his hands hanging unclenched at his sides. Bourbon looked like she was about to witness someone kick a puppy.
"What's this all about, Spot? I thought we had a truce?" Spot spat onto the cobblestones in front of Jack, his features screwed up tightly in anger.
"I thought so too, Jacky-boy. But then what do I see? You and your newsies scootin' out of Medda's like someone had lit your asses on fire. Not a very polite thing to do, ya know." Jack snorted, and managed to look amused although I knew his thoughts were racing a mile a minute.
"Spot, don't do this," my words were slightly slurred and I boldly stepped to the front. I saw more than a few of the Brooklyn newsies clench their fists at my appearance. Spot smiled coldly at me, and his eyes flickered to where Racetrack stood. Slowly, he sneered and pointed at me with his cane.
"You don't even deserve a response," was all he said softly before with a swift motion of his cane, the Brooklyn boys charged. I found myself roughly shoved up against a wall, along with Bourbon, Pistol, and even Pokey. A few boys stood in front of us, supposedly to make sure nothing happened, but it wasn't long before they got dragged into the fight.
"Screw this!" Bourbon yowled at me and Pistol before jumping onto the back of the nearest Brooklyn boy, and boxing his ears. Pistol and I shrugged, and leapt into the fray, Pokey hanging back. I could understand her hesitation. While the Manhattan girls had never really gotten close to the Brooklyn boys, Pokey was a Brooklyn newsie, who was also very close and friendly with every single Manhattan newsie. I saw her finally square her shoulders and throw a punch at Kid Blink who looked at her in astonishment and with an apologetic grin picked her up and tossed her into a pile of boxes. I noticed that she wisely stayed down after that.
Pistol was busy trying to beat the living daylights out of Pick, the Brooklyn boy who had sprung Spot and I out of my brother's basement. He was in the meantime trying not to hurt her. Bourbon had been thrown off of the back of the Brooklyn newsie and was frantically dodging punches. Apparently this boy had no problems with hitting a girl. She was saved by a quick smack to the boy's temple that made him drop like a stone. When she looked up, nose bleeding to see who had come to her aid, all she saw was Riddle's back moving on to the next boy.
Our boys were faring much better than we were. Not surprisingly Jack and Spot had matched off, while the rest just tried to beat up whoever was in their path. I myself went after Knuckles. There he stood, a shit-eating grin in front of his face, pounding a fist into the open palm of his other hand. I felt anger envelop me and I surged forward with a right hook that he easily dodged and followed up with a sharp jab to my kidney as I went past him. I hissed in pain and whirled around.
"Come on girlie, show me whatcha got," he snarled. This time I connected, hearing the sickening thud of flesh meeting flesh when my hand hit him on the cheek. He winced and hit me in the stomach. I thought I was going to barf, but luckily he hadn't hit me that hard. His hands caught my shoulders and he shoved me to the ground and drew back a leg, ready to kick. I rolled away and was ready to jump up when I saw Racetrack tackle him and the two moved off, punching and hurling insults at each other. Someone grasped me by the shoulder and ripped me to my feet.
I found myself staring into Spot's murderous eyes as he slammed me up against the alley wall. We stood there for a second, not saying anything, breathing heavily. His hair was in his face and he had blood running from a cut near his left eye. I looked about for Jack, but he was busy rescuing Mush from two Brooklyn kids.
"I should have known you'd go for Racetrack," he spat at me. I narrowed my eyes and bared my teeth at him.
"You didn't want me, and he did. He's wanted me all along; I was just too stupid to see past your fake charms to his real feelings."
"My fake charms? You think everything I said or did was because I didn't like yah?"
"Who knows what you'd say to get a girl into bed," I retorted sharply. Spot's face was incredulous as he gazed down at me, his grip tightening on my arms.
"You're fucking crazy, Misery. Crazy and maybe a little too much trouble to be worth it. You can have Racetrack; just don't ever forget that I told ya you meant a lot to me."
"Oh yeah and when was that?" I fought back tears and it was starting to feel like a losing battle as my eyes watered furiously and began to sting. Spot gave me a soft half-smile.
"I just said it, didn't I?" And with that, he left just as suddenly as he'd appeared my by side. A piercing whistle sounded in the air, and everyone froze thinking that it was the bulls. But Spot stood on a crate, his hands in his mouth which he brought down once he realized he had everyone's attention.
"That was a good fight, wasn't it boys?" The Brooklyn boys cheered and to everyone's immense surprise began clapping the Manhattan kids on the backs. Jack went so far as to stare at Spot, his mouth hanging open.
"Ahhh that's just what we needed. See ya around kiddos." And with a disarming grin, and a wink, Spot and the Brooklyn newsies departed. We stood in silence for a few heartbeats until Kid Blink threw up his hands and roared in frustration.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"
"I think we was bein' tested," Racetrack said thoughtfully lighting his cigar. He limped over to my side, and I hastily checked him over, biting my lip. He appeared alright, save for a bloody nose and a rapidly swelling eye.
"TESTED HOW?" Blink's screaming was a little humorous and more than a few of us giggled nervously, our adrenaline rushes fading, the pain settling in. Jack snorted and lit a smoke of his own as he moved around, checking everyone out.
"Testing us to see how tough we were, how strong our loyalties lay. Obviously know they know we're willing to fight back for what's ours so they know our boundaries. I don't think we'll be seeing any trouble from them for awhile." This lightened the mood, and immensely pleased with themselves, the boys set out for the lodging house, helping each other along and relating their battle stories.
Us girls hung back, quiet and somewhat reserved. Riddle had slung Pokey over his shoulder when they had left, and we were worried that she was hurt badly. Bourbon hastened to say that she doubted Pokey was that hurt.
"Pokey's a tough lil broad, she's fine I bet." Bourbon seemed disturbed about something, and I was more than a little unsettled about Spot's vehement declaration. Pistol limped along smiling like a loon. Apparently she'd had a lot of fun sparring with Pick. I shook my head as she yammered brightly about the fight. Kid Blink shook his head at her, having dropped back to make sure we were okay. She stuck her tongue out at him, and he heaved a sigh before grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder.
"God those two are too much," Bourbon said with a smile. I watched in agreement as Pistol screamed for him to put her down and Blink shook his head with glee. I darted a glance at Bourbon's glum face.
"What's the matter with you, you're starting to remind me of Skittery." Bourbon chuckled at this and shrugged, snagging my cigarette as I lit it and taking the first drag. Exhaling she gave it back and looked at me, her odd colored eyes gleaming in the moonlight.
"I just realized I'm in love," she said with a disheartened tone. I burst out laughing and she punched me on the arm, her face a thundercloud.
"That's NOT funny!" she hissed at me. I sobered up and put my hand on her shoulder.
"You're acting like somebody died, not like you're in love."
"Yeah, well. I feel like somebody died. I've never BEEN in love. It's scary as HELL. What if he doesn't like me back?" I snorted and raised an eyebrow.
"D'you mean Riddle?" When she nodded, I grinned.
"I don't think you have anything to worry about," I said. She looked at me doubtfully before stuffing her hands in her pockets and refusing to talk anymore about the situation.
After that night, the days and nights went by turning into months. Brooklyn stayed mostly to themselves, healing up their grief over Cards and getting over their boiling anger. Soon they began to trickle back into Manhattan, one by one to visit friends and re-claim girls, or friendships that had grown lax.
Spot never came to Manhattan though. In fact, I hadn't seen hide or tail of him since that night. Jack went to Brooklyn to see him, but whereas before, when Race would tag along, it was made quite clear that he wasn't wanted around by the King of Brooklyn. I began to think that I wouldn't see Spot again, until something happened that changed that very quickly....
SHOUT OUTS!
Shaug - I never thanked you for your review before, so I will now. Thanks! And I agree!
Erinsailorditz -- *hangs head* I'm sorry I disappointed you. BUT! That just leaves room for me to write a whooooooole 'nother story about Spot and a DIFFERENT girl.*wink*
JustDuck - Yeah it's not quite over. Almost, but not quite. I don't think it'll reach twenty chapters, but ya never know. This one was actually long, my creative juices were flowin'.
Pokey7 - Hmmm yes this means Jack doesn't have a girlfriend....yet. *wiggles eyebrows*
Chelsea - I'm glad you're enjoying it although it DOES seem to have quite the conflicting love/hate thing going on with it's many issues. But, that's me in a nutshell. Racetrack is too damn cute to ever be the bad guy. I don't think he'd be capable of it.
NadaZimri - Yay new reviewer! Angst can be good sometimes, hehe.Yeah I decided to let Race be happy for once. For now. Ooooh..I'm evil. Thanks for reviewing I appreciate it! Oh lordy the Gaelic even made ME shiver and I was writin' the darn thing.
Netangel182 - Hey I'm just glad you stuck around to BE the 100th reviewer! I'm glad people are enjoying this to have read so far. Thank you so much!
My Dog Ate My Penname - Psh, I like your reviews, they're cute as hell. *pats Spot's head* Calm down lovey you'll be in the story soon enough.
Kays14 - Thank you very much! Yay for another new reviewer!!
Lanen1 - Whoo hooo ANOTHER new reviewer! I'd dance for you all, but you'd run away screaming because I just can't dance. *sobs* Thanks for reading my story! I'm glad you like it.
*Misery stops typing and glances around*
Misery : However, there are a few of you who have me on your alert list or favorite story list and you haven't reviewed. Don't be shy! Step up one and all, drinks all around!
Racetrack : Wrong movie, dork
*slaps Race upside the head*
Misery : Don't get sassy with me or else I'll get Jack Sparrow to set you straight.
*Race makes a face and holds up his hands*
Okay enough of my dorkiness. Review people! Tell me how much you like it or hate it.