"Ya sellin' wit me?" Blink asked Rose on their walk to The World building.
"Can I?"
"Yup."
"Ya don't mind?"
"Rose, I want ya to sell wit me."
"Oh…Okay!" They walked through the gates of the building. Rose looked around, trying to hide how uneducated she was about newspapers. The boys started forming a line. Blink took Rose's hand and pulled her with him.
"We're lucky taday," he explained. "We got here just in time fah da gates ta open. Normally, we'd have a problem wit da Delanceys, which would end in a fight. Spot wouldn't like dat!" Rose smiled. "However, we got a crappy headline. So taday's a good day ta teach ya how ta use yer…what's dat thin' called? Feminine charm. Dat's it!" Rose laughed.
"How many?" an older man said from behind some bars. Rose hadn't realized that they'd gotten to the front of the line.
"Gimmie…fifty," Blink replied.
"Fifty papes!" The man yelled. Blink pulled Rose with him as he got his papes.
"See those two guys over there?" Blink pointed out two guys, maybe a little older than himself, to Rose. She nodded. "The Delanceys. Oscar and Morris. "
"Really?"
"Yup."
"They don't look very tough." Blink laughed. "What?"
"Nuttin'," he smiled. He led her out into the streets. "Now, there's a few thin's ya gotta learn 'bout sellin' papes. First of all…"
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"See? I told ya ya'd be good at sellin'!" Blink playfully shoved Rose. "We only got five more papes."
"So?"
"So? It's a shitty headline, and it's not even six yet! Days like this, we're out all night sellin'."
"So I'se good," Rose agreed.
"You'se great," Blink laughed. Rose grabbed his hand, only he intertwined their fingers. He half expected Rose to tell him not to, or slap him, or something like that. But she didn't seem to mind.
"I could sell like this fahever," Rose smiled.
"Yeah," Blink agreed. "I like it bettah then sellin' wit myself." Rose laughed. Suddenly, someone steeped in front of them. Rose didn't recognize him at first. Then it clicked. "Beat it, Oscar." But he didn't move. "I said beat it!"
"Since when did I listen to you?" Oscar sneered. "'sides, the bitch is cute."
"Leave her alone." Blink pushed Rose behind him.
"What're ya gonna do, Blinky? Call Jack?" Oscar laughed. "Oh I'm soooo scared of the cowboy wanna-be!" There was a long silence, and an evil grin spread across Oscar's face. "Where ya from, bitch?" Rose didn't answer. "I asked ya a question."
"B-Brooklyn," Rose stuttered.
"I like Brooklyn goils. They pretty…" He took a step closer, looking suggestively at Rose.
"That's it!" Blink exclaimed. And with that, he punched Oscar square in the jaw. Oscar stumbled, but regained balance, and punched back. Rose stood there, in utter panic. She wasn't sure what to do. She stood there, but then Oscar pulled out a pair of brass knuckles.
"No!" Rose yelled, and jumped between them. But Oscar had already beat Blink pretty bad. Oscar threw Blink on the ground, and spit on him.
"I'll get ya later, bitch," he said to Rose, then left.
"Oh God!" Rose bent down by Blink. "Are ya okay?" He groaned, but sat up.
"I think so." There was a red trickle coming from his nose.
"You'se bleedin'!"
"I'se fine. Are ya okay? He didn't try nuttin', did he?"
"I'se okay." Rose placed a hand on his cheek. "Thank ya."
"It's okay. I just didn't want him ta do nuttin' ta ya." Blink stood up slowly. "We should go back ta da lodgin' house."
"Yeah."
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"WHAT?" an infuriated Spot yelled.
"I told ya what I'se know," Shooter looked at his feet.
"I can't believe it. I can't!" Spot began pacing through his room. "Blink almost let Oscar hoit her?"
"No, not really. He got in a fight wit Oscar."
"And Rose stopped 'em?" Shooter nodded. "There's Rose fer ya. Won't let anyone she cares 'bout get hoit. Even if she has ta out herself in danger."
"She'll be okay."
"He's still out dere."
"I'se know."
"Keep a close eye on 'er, Shooter. Anythin' happens ta her, and ya bettah help."
"Okay."
"I mean it, Shooter. No messin' wit goils. I'se givin' ya a chance."
"I'se know."
"No funny crap."
"Okay."
"…Do ya think it's bad that I'se havin' ya follow her?"
"Ya bein' protective. I don't blame ya."
"Really?"
"Yup. Rose is worth extra work."
"I'se know dat."
"I ain't gonna let no trouble come ta her, Spot."
"I'm trustin' ya."
"I'se know."
"Go get some sleep er somethin'." Shooter left without another word. "What did I'se do?" Spot said to himself. "Why did I'se let ya go, Rose?" As if almost an answer, he heard glass break under his foot. He moved his foot, and saw the piece of glass that Rose had cut her knee with. Spot went out onto the night, and beat the crap out of the first punk who gave him trouble. He realized that he was only doing it so not to cry.
