A/N: New chapter! Yay. Gotta do shout-outs first.
CORKY HIGGINS: Glad you like it. Hey, who knows, maybe I'll change your mind.
ANGELOFMUSIC2: You're insane, did you know that?
COTTON BLOSSOM: Hey, buddy, you really must watch that movie. Now. I mean it.
KLOVER: I'm really happy you like it this much. I love it when the newsies are confused too, they're sweet that way.
Hey, I got 4 whole reviews this time. Very happy about that. Okay, heeeeere's the chapter.
********************************
Chapter Four: Spot's Cousin
Spot was sitting on her 'throne', looking down on her newsies. It had been two days since her meeting with Racetrack.
She was still kicking herself for that mistake. Going to the races dressed as a girl just to catch a glimpse of a certain Italian gambler that day was not the first time she'd done so. In fact, there were some times when she'd practically given her newspapers away in order to make it to the tracks on time.
If only she hadn't stayed around to admire Racetrack, he probably still wouldn't know. But she saw him there, with an adorable thoughtful expression on his face, and had to stop and watch him.
But, there was something Spot knew that she could use to her advantage. Racetrack was obviously in love with her. And, since she was after all Spot Conlon, she was going to have quite a bit of fun messing around with Racetrack's brain.
"Spot? Hey Spot!"
It took a moment, but she realized someone had approached her throne and wanted to talk to her.
She sighed. "Whaddya want, Sneaks?"
"Shrimpy said Kelly's hea and he wants ta see yous."
Kelly? Jack hadn't been to Brooklyn since the strike ended. She gripped her cane and jumped down from her throne. "Where are dey?"
Sneaks led her to where Jack was talking to a very young, excitable newsie named Shrimpy.
Sneaks grabbed Shrimpy and left so Jack could talk with Spot. They both stared at each other a moment, then smiled and spit-shook.
"Hey, Jackie-boy, long time no see. I was startin' ta tink yous fogot about me."
"Nah. Hey, listen, I'm hea on business."
The smile left Spot's face. "Oh yeah? Wat happened?"
"My good friend Racetrack wanted me ta tell yous dat he wants ya cousin ta meet him in front a da Horace Greely statcha tamara around noon."
"Me cousin?"
"Yeah. Patricia or sometin' like dat."
"Oh yeah. Patricia." I'm gonna kill that little Italian bastard, she thought furiously.
"Hey Spot, yous got a cousin yous been keepin' from us?" The speaker was a tall, black-haired, blue-eyed, slow-witted fellow named Big Pete.
"Nah, Pete, calm down. She just got hea from Ireland and Race ran inta her comin' outta da races." Damn I'm good, she thought.
"Oh."
"So, anyways, Cowboy, yous tell Race me cousin'll be dere if she wants ta."
"Aright. Don' make a habit outta usin' me as a message boy, got dat?" Spot's eyes flashed dangerously, so Jack hurriedly added, "Not dat I mind or anytin'."
Spot nodded, and Jack left.
**************************
Race looked at the clock anxiously. Twelve-fifteen and he still had ten more papes to sell. He was starting to get desperate.
"Wild elephants loose in Harlem!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Several buildings in danger of collapsing!"
Several passers-by took interest in what he was saying. Before long, he'd sold his last pape. Racetrack started running towards where the statue was.
"Hey! That story isn't in here!"
"Sorry, no refunds!" Race called over his shoulder.
As he neared Horace, he caught sight of Spot. He stopped short and tried hard not to laugh.
Yeah it was Spot. But she was wearing a deep red curly wig.
"Ya late. I wouldn' laugh if I was yous."
"Sorry, Spot, red ain't ya color," he said. "And since I had ta meet yous hea so early, I didn' get ta go ta da tracks."
"Oh, so dat's my fault, is it?"
"Well...no."
"Thought not." She leaned against Horace's leg and crossed her arms. "So, why do ya want me hea like dis?"
"I wanted ta talk wid ya, and people'd tink it was weird if dey say da leada of Brooklyn wid me."
Spot shrugged. Racetrack said, "I thought we'd walk ta Central Park. Dere's benches dere we can sit on ta talk."
Spot only shrugged again, but when Race started walking, she sighed and followed.
"Hey Race, I wanna ask yous sometin'."
"Yeah?"
"Where da hell did ya come up wid da name Patricia."
"It's da only Irish name I knows. Why, yous don' like it?"
"It's not me name, Racey."
"Well what is yous name?"
"I ain't tellin' yous."
Race lit a cigar. "So, as yous prolly know, I got a couple questions I wanna ask."
"And, as yous prolly know, I'll only answer da ones I feels like answerin'."
Race nodded. "Right. So anyways, da foist question I wanna ask is- How come yous was dressed as a goil dat day I saw ya?"
Spot had a story planned in case he asked. "Well, ya know, goils tend ta sell more papes. Especially if ya can pity some women inta tinkin' yous've been abused or sometin'."
Race raised his eyebrows. They's reached Central Park by then, and sat down on one of the benches there. "Aright, neva knew dat. So, how come yous is a boy around da guys? Goils is allowed ta be newsies."
"Shoa, dey're allowed ta be newsies. But day shoa as hell ain't allowed ta be leada. Not in Brooklyn, at least."
"But yous coulda just been a regular newsie-"
"But dat ain't what I want, Racey-boy. I wanted ta be da leada. An' I am."
"Why would yous wanna be leada in da foist place?"
Spot smiled. "Sorry Race, yous went ova ya limit."
Race looked confused. "Wat limit?"
"Yous said ya wanted ta ask me a couple a questions. A couple is two. So yous asked two." Spot smirked evilly at Race when he cursed.
"So Race, I want yous ta find sometin' out foa me, kay?"
Racetrack rolled his eyes. "What is it, Spot?"
"Find out foa me if Mush is single."
Race choked on his cigar. For having smoked so often, he sure was doing a lot of that lately. "What?"
Spot grinned evilly again. "Yous hoid me. Find out if Mush would be intrested in Spot Conlon's cousin." When Race just gaped at her, Spot said, "Dat's a good boy," and kissed Racetrack on the nose. She stood up, shook her skirts out, and walked away.
Spot liked Mush?!?
*********************
My Spot!Muse enjoys messing with people's brains. I'm not sure when I'll be updating, I'll try for Monday, but I'm not promising anything. Remember, reviews make me want to please the readers, so the more I get, the harder I'll try for Monday.
Till then,
~Liams Kitten~
CORKY HIGGINS: Glad you like it. Hey, who knows, maybe I'll change your mind.
ANGELOFMUSIC2: You're insane, did you know that?
COTTON BLOSSOM: Hey, buddy, you really must watch that movie. Now. I mean it.
KLOVER: I'm really happy you like it this much. I love it when the newsies are confused too, they're sweet that way.
Hey, I got 4 whole reviews this time. Very happy about that. Okay, heeeeere's the chapter.
********************************
Chapter Four: Spot's Cousin
Spot was sitting on her 'throne', looking down on her newsies. It had been two days since her meeting with Racetrack.
She was still kicking herself for that mistake. Going to the races dressed as a girl just to catch a glimpse of a certain Italian gambler that day was not the first time she'd done so. In fact, there were some times when she'd practically given her newspapers away in order to make it to the tracks on time.
If only she hadn't stayed around to admire Racetrack, he probably still wouldn't know. But she saw him there, with an adorable thoughtful expression on his face, and had to stop and watch him.
But, there was something Spot knew that she could use to her advantage. Racetrack was obviously in love with her. And, since she was after all Spot Conlon, she was going to have quite a bit of fun messing around with Racetrack's brain.
"Spot? Hey Spot!"
It took a moment, but she realized someone had approached her throne and wanted to talk to her.
She sighed. "Whaddya want, Sneaks?"
"Shrimpy said Kelly's hea and he wants ta see yous."
Kelly? Jack hadn't been to Brooklyn since the strike ended. She gripped her cane and jumped down from her throne. "Where are dey?"
Sneaks led her to where Jack was talking to a very young, excitable newsie named Shrimpy.
Sneaks grabbed Shrimpy and left so Jack could talk with Spot. They both stared at each other a moment, then smiled and spit-shook.
"Hey, Jackie-boy, long time no see. I was startin' ta tink yous fogot about me."
"Nah. Hey, listen, I'm hea on business."
The smile left Spot's face. "Oh yeah? Wat happened?"
"My good friend Racetrack wanted me ta tell yous dat he wants ya cousin ta meet him in front a da Horace Greely statcha tamara around noon."
"Me cousin?"
"Yeah. Patricia or sometin' like dat."
"Oh yeah. Patricia." I'm gonna kill that little Italian bastard, she thought furiously.
"Hey Spot, yous got a cousin yous been keepin' from us?" The speaker was a tall, black-haired, blue-eyed, slow-witted fellow named Big Pete.
"Nah, Pete, calm down. She just got hea from Ireland and Race ran inta her comin' outta da races." Damn I'm good, she thought.
"Oh."
"So, anyways, Cowboy, yous tell Race me cousin'll be dere if she wants ta."
"Aright. Don' make a habit outta usin' me as a message boy, got dat?" Spot's eyes flashed dangerously, so Jack hurriedly added, "Not dat I mind or anytin'."
Spot nodded, and Jack left.
**************************
Race looked at the clock anxiously. Twelve-fifteen and he still had ten more papes to sell. He was starting to get desperate.
"Wild elephants loose in Harlem!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs. "Several buildings in danger of collapsing!"
Several passers-by took interest in what he was saying. Before long, he'd sold his last pape. Racetrack started running towards where the statue was.
"Hey! That story isn't in here!"
"Sorry, no refunds!" Race called over his shoulder.
As he neared Horace, he caught sight of Spot. He stopped short and tried hard not to laugh.
Yeah it was Spot. But she was wearing a deep red curly wig.
"Ya late. I wouldn' laugh if I was yous."
"Sorry, Spot, red ain't ya color," he said. "And since I had ta meet yous hea so early, I didn' get ta go ta da tracks."
"Oh, so dat's my fault, is it?"
"Well...no."
"Thought not." She leaned against Horace's leg and crossed her arms. "So, why do ya want me hea like dis?"
"I wanted ta talk wid ya, and people'd tink it was weird if dey say da leada of Brooklyn wid me."
Spot shrugged. Racetrack said, "I thought we'd walk ta Central Park. Dere's benches dere we can sit on ta talk."
Spot only shrugged again, but when Race started walking, she sighed and followed.
"Hey Race, I wanna ask yous sometin'."
"Yeah?"
"Where da hell did ya come up wid da name Patricia."
"It's da only Irish name I knows. Why, yous don' like it?"
"It's not me name, Racey."
"Well what is yous name?"
"I ain't tellin' yous."
Race lit a cigar. "So, as yous prolly know, I got a couple questions I wanna ask."
"And, as yous prolly know, I'll only answer da ones I feels like answerin'."
Race nodded. "Right. So anyways, da foist question I wanna ask is- How come yous was dressed as a goil dat day I saw ya?"
Spot had a story planned in case he asked. "Well, ya know, goils tend ta sell more papes. Especially if ya can pity some women inta tinkin' yous've been abused or sometin'."
Race raised his eyebrows. They's reached Central Park by then, and sat down on one of the benches there. "Aright, neva knew dat. So, how come yous is a boy around da guys? Goils is allowed ta be newsies."
"Shoa, dey're allowed ta be newsies. But day shoa as hell ain't allowed ta be leada. Not in Brooklyn, at least."
"But yous coulda just been a regular newsie-"
"But dat ain't what I want, Racey-boy. I wanted ta be da leada. An' I am."
"Why would yous wanna be leada in da foist place?"
Spot smiled. "Sorry Race, yous went ova ya limit."
Race looked confused. "Wat limit?"
"Yous said ya wanted ta ask me a couple a questions. A couple is two. So yous asked two." Spot smirked evilly at Race when he cursed.
"So Race, I want yous ta find sometin' out foa me, kay?"
Racetrack rolled his eyes. "What is it, Spot?"
"Find out foa me if Mush is single."
Race choked on his cigar. For having smoked so often, he sure was doing a lot of that lately. "What?"
Spot grinned evilly again. "Yous hoid me. Find out if Mush would be intrested in Spot Conlon's cousin." When Race just gaped at her, Spot said, "Dat's a good boy," and kissed Racetrack on the nose. She stood up, shook her skirts out, and walked away.
Spot liked Mush?!?
*********************
My Spot!Muse enjoys messing with people's brains. I'm not sure when I'll be updating, I'll try for Monday, but I'm not promising anything. Remember, reviews make me want to please the readers, so the more I get, the harder I'll try for Monday.
Till then,
~Liams Kitten~