A/N: Yay! I did it! I wrote this chapter and chapter twenty-one! Yay! Okay, sorry, I didn't think this was going to happen tonight because, well, my grandmother's supposed to be coming into town, but she's still not here yet. But anyway, I won't keep you from the story, except for my disclaimer.
Disclaimer: I do not own Newsies, nor the characters in it. Disney owns that privilege. Also, Bullet belongs to Runaway, and Tyrant belongs to Air! Thanks for letting me use them goils!
Chapter Twenty-Two: Fate's Sealing Bell
Eighteen year-old Bullet slipped into the Harlem Lodging House with a scowl on his face. It was five, and he and Tyrant had talked to every Harlem newsie they'd seen selling on the streets, and so far none had decided to join the Queens force. The Lodging House was their last stop before they would head back to Brooklyn for the night, and be forced under Trigger's wrath at the bad news.
Tyrant's usual smirking silence didn't help any either. Bullet felt that he was silently being mocked for something, which he definitely didn't like. Running a hand through his blond-flecked light brown hair, he opened the door to Harlem's great room and looked around at the newsies gathered there, all smoking, talking, and laughing. Over in a corner, he caught the golden gleam of one of Harlem's Famous Three. The girl named curls.
She sat with Corsets by the door to the kitchen, chatting amiably with a girl he didn't recognize. Sauntering over to the trio, he felt Tyrant hot on his heels, and a smirk of satisfaction came over his face as he realized that not even the great Tyrant -who considered girls a waste of time and money- could ignore the beauty of the golden-girls.
"Evenin' ladies," Bullet said in his smooth way. His words seemed to glide, like water over a silver dish. "How's ya'll doin'?"
Corsets looked up into his gray eyes and gave a small, knowing smirk, while the bouncy blonde, Curls, beamed. The third girl just cocked an eyebrow as her eyes widened slightly.
"Evenin' yerself, Mistah Brehan," Corsets replied in her sultry manner, using his real last name. "An' who might dis gent wit' ya be?"
Tyrant's eyes widened slightly in surprise, as though he thought the sensual beauty might not notice him. "Uh…Tyrant," he responded, seemingly a little embarrassed. Bullet caught the glint in Corset's eye at his hesitation, and felt himself smirk. He'd once been a Harlem newsie, back in his younger years, before he'd moved to the Bronx and met Striker. And he could well remember what kind of a spell Corsets held over men, even those of her own lodging house.
"An' ta what do we owe dis visit?" she asked smoothly, her fingertips brushing Bullet's arm as she gestured to the two. He felt a small fire in his loins, but upon remembering his duty, it disappeared.
"Wells, Triggah sent us from 'is poich in da Brooklyn Lodgin' House," he answered. "'E's lookin' foah loyalties ta 'im from Harlem. Unfoitunately, we's ain't found any so far."
Corsets tsked with her tongue, and running a finger unconsciously across her chest, she gave him a look of pity. "Well, dat's just too bad," she said, "but I don' know of anyone heah who'd follow yas. But maybe Curls an' I can…ease yer sufferin'?"
Tyrant raised an eyebrow at Bullet, but before he could speak, a figure newly come through the kitchen door spoke.
"I'll follow you fellows," the girl said in a soprano voice that dripped with femininity. Bullet looked her up and down, and felt a pang in high loins sharper than the one he'd felt when Corset's hand had brushed his arm.
He felt as though he was looking at an icon of pure feminine beauty. She was slender, with nice hips that weren't too broad, but, at the same time, weren't too small either. From them fell a full black skirt, complete with a small lace edge. Following his eyes up, he found a perfectly flat, slim stomach, and looking further, his eyes came to rest on her bosom. She was not too large in the breast department, but at the same time, she was not so small that she was not noticed.
Two fingers suddenly touched the bottom side of his jaw, and gave a slight push upwards. Realizing his jaw had been hanging open, he shut it, sheepishly grinning up at the divine beauty, who had a smirk playing on her cherry lips. Raising a graceful eyebrow questioningly, she asked, "See something you like?"
Bullet licked his lips, and suddenly found himself at a loss for words. His usual sly, too-cool-for-his-own-good attitude had failed him, leaving him nothing but a boy in the face of something truly divine that not even he could fathom. A pretty chuckle rose from the girls throat as she watched his expression.
Alleyway walked Criss-Cross step forward and extend her hand to the boy, saying in her new-found high voice, and Midwest accent, "I'm Kattie. And, you are?"
Astonished beyond belief at her friend's bold actions, she rose to protest, but a firm, yet kind hand on her shoulder kept her down. Henna –who had come through the door with Criss-Cross- was holding her into her seat. Alleyway sighed inwardly as she watch the scene before her play out, admittedly amused beyond words as Criss-Cross's seemingly natural coy nature and kitten-appeal.
Bullet slowly took Kattie's hand, completely astonished at actually being able to touch the living goddess. "I'se Bullet," he replied, his response sounding dumb even to him. Taking a deep breath, he focused tried to relax some. "So'se, ya wanna come ta Brooklyn wit' us an' be foah Queens?" he asked conversationally.
She bobbed her auburn-haired head 'yes' and said, "Well, I figured I might as well. I'm new here in town, and, well, if I'm going to make a name for myself, I might as well start by going with the biggest, most powerful group I can find." She giggled prettily, her laugh seeming like tiny tinkling bells.
"Wells, yas chose da right group den," Bullet responded, managing to slowly gain back his usual composure. "Dis is Tyrant by da way. 'E's anuddah one a Triggah Jones' boys, jus' like me."
Her laugh played again as she extended her hand to the chestnut-haired, semi-skeletal boy. "Nice to meet you, Tyrant. Say, where'd you get a name like that anyway?"
Tyrant just shrugged, not even looking her full in the eye. A pout graced Kattie's face at this dismissal. Looking back at Bullet, she said, "Well, I guess all is done here, I'll just need to get my things from Corsets's room, and kiss my wonderful consorts here good-bye." At this she gestured to the other girls. "They'll all been so kind to me. You will wait while I set my affairs in order, won't you?"
Another peeling bell of laughter escaped her at this notion, and without even waiting for a yes, she turned on her heel, the other girls following quickly behind.
Once safely out of earshot upstairs, Criss-Cross broke down into a laughing fit of hysterics. "I'se nevah seen such chumps!" she exclaimed, gasping for breath and near tears in her laughter.
Corsets too was sblack personing in her own secretive manner, while Curls and Henna were holding each other they were laughing so hard. Alleyway chuckled a little at it, but she seemed to be the only one not finding it that funny. Sighing inwardly, she wondered as to what made her different from the four laughing girls before her. Or what, for that matter, made Criss-Cross and them the same?
How did she's meet dem in da foist place? An' how come dese t'ree are such good friends? The thought crossed Alleyway's mind like a shatter pain of glass. But she simply shook the thought out of her head as Criss-Cross came up and grabbed her hand, pulling her slightly away from the rest of the group.
"Alleyway, listen, I'se need yas ta do a couplah favahs foah me, a'ight?" she asked.
Alleyway thought of being cruel, but then decided to just consent, and so she nodded to the new Criss-Cross.
"A'ight," Criss-Cross replied, heaving a sigh. "Heah's what I'se need yas ta do. Foist, I'se need ya ta tell Kelly wheah I'se at. You'se know how I'se don' like 'im, but 'e has a righ' ta know. Plus, 'e's'll be soichin' foah me anyway. But jus' tell 'im not ta worry, an' jus' ta sit tight foah da moment. I'se'll be fine.
"Second, I'se need yas ta find Runaway. Spot's goil. An' tell her wheah I'se gone, an' not ta worry about me. An' tell her ta find a way outta New Yawk. Befoah Triggah finds her. Cuz if 'e does, she'll be dead. Giver her my command ta leave! Ya got dat?" Alleyway nodded.
"An' lastly, if I'se don' make it outta Brooklyn…" Criss-Cross gulped nervously before continuing, "If I'se die, I'se need yas ta promise dat ya'll go out ta Colahradah, an' tell me lodgin' house, da Colahradah Springs Lodgin' House, dat I'se dead. An' I'se want yas ta take ovah me place as leadah. A'ight?"
Alleyway hesitated, not sure what to say or do. Her throat felt slightly constricted as she thought of her best friend Criss-Cross dying at the hand of Trigger Jones, just as so many others had done. Criss-Cross grabbed her upper-arm in a forceful, tight grip that made her wince, and said more sternly, a flash of fire in her eye, "A'ight!"
Mutely Alleyway nodded, feeling defeated. As Criss-Cross turned to go back to the group, she spoke up, feebly. "Wait…" Criss-Cross turned back, and Alleyway swallowed hard. But, she flung her arms around Criss-Cross's neck anyway, and hugged her friend fiercely, whispering in her ear, "Jus' be careful, a'ight?"
Criss-Cross nodded as Alleyway let go of her, and walking back over to the group, she nodded, gave them each a peck on the cheek in turn, lifted her bag, and was gone from the room in an instant, leaving Alleyway fearing that it was the last time she'd ever see the fiery sister of Spot Conlon. But the girl had sealed her own fate, and Alleyway had known all along that nothing she could say would change that.
A/N: So, what'd you think. Please review and tell me! Unfortunately, there's no shout outs this time around, but oh well! Two chapters posted this close together, what should I expect!
Spot: I'se dunno. Don' look at me.
Oh well. Please double review this one! lol Or you could just make your review twice as long! Criss-Cross