Look! A chapter in a timely fashion!

I still don't own the original Newsies characters.

I fumed. Spot better not of did something to 'urt Racetrack, or he's dead.

"Are you still saying no one's selling in Brooklyn?"

"Shut up, Spot. Race has been selling there for years." It's true, and has never been a problem or even brought up before.

I stood up so quickly that the chair tipped over and fell to the floor with crash. I didn't flinch, or even care.

Spot stood up too. But much more professional-like. Scooting the chair back, then pushing it back in when he stepped beside it. He could always keep his cool, and wanted to show me that he was the one in control, not me.

"Manhattan is a big place; surely you can squeeze this one in on some street corner?"

"He don't want 'some street corner'. Racetrack has always loved the races, how else did you think he got that name? He didn't just sell papes there; he made bets with the people he sold to. The people with permanent boxes there knew him well. All us boys knew that if Race could have one thing in the whole, wide, world, it would be one of them permanent boxes at Sheepshead."

Spot didn't seem moved by my speech. "I've got more boys than you that need space. It don't do anyone any good by having 10 on the same street, all trying to get a dime by the end of the day."

I tried to keep my mind on Race, trying not to see Spot's logic, and willing some of Race's trapped sarcasm to possess me.

"You heard me before. Race has been sellin' there for years, the crowd won't know your boys, and won't buy from 'em. You can try. But even Spot Conlon couldn't sell papes in Sheepshead." I turned to leave.

"You ain't going anywhere, Jacky-boy." Spot's voice rose. I could hear his sound tremble, like he was fighting for control of himself. With my back to him, I smiled with an idea. A put my face back to a calm expression and turned around again.

"And why not?" I calmly asked.

"You'll never see that Italian ever again."

"Are you threatening me, Spot?" I took a step closer, making him think he's getting to me. His new smirk told me that it worked.

"As a matta o' fact, yeah."

I rushed up to him, leaned over the desk, grabbed Spot's shirt collar, twisted it and drew him so close that he had to cross his eyes. His smirk turned to a face of bewilderment at this treatment. "Listen here, Conlon. If youse done anything to Race, I'm gonna find out, and you're gonna be done." I said in a dark tone. I felt like if that I had my boys behind me, they would be cheering.

I could see, in his crossed eyes, he was getting infuriated. He grabbed my hand and wrenched it off of his shirt. He didn't let go of my hand, which was now at a weird angle. I was being slightly pulled over the desk. His grip tightened, and I could see his knuckles go white against mine. His steel blue eyes burned into mine.

"This is my territory; you don't tell me what to d-"

"But is it, though? I thought you were only second, you ain't good enough to be leader." His grip on my fingers tightened even more. I winced, barely.

"Don't you dare say that! I'm more leader than Blue ever was or will be! He's scared of me, as he should be." He twisted my arm to the point where I thought it was going to snap. "I can take Brooklyn over any day I want to-"

"Then why don't ya?" I whispered through the pain in my arm.

Spot released my arm suddenly, like it was burning hot. He stared at me. "Didn't you hear? I don't wanna do that just yet. I'm waitin' for Blue to show some weakness, that'll make the boys noivous. Then I can step in without question. After dat I can easily take out anyone who opposes me." Spot's eyes looked murderous. He was lookin' at me like I'se the one who was opposing him.

"Why don't you just kill Blue and get it over with?" I asked, trying not to let him notice me rubbing my hand.

"I don't think they'd like it too much if I kill in cold blood. I'll do peaceful step-in, only fightin' if he starts it."

I think for a moment. Peaceful step-in. Ha. A smile spread across my face. "What if I start it?"

Spot cocked his head. "Whadya mean, Jacky-boy?"

"You wanna be leader; I want Racetrack back home safely. I'll start a fight with Blue, and you step in to try and break it up, or whatever. But Blue won't want to stop, you know that. Then you attack him when he turns on you. You wound him, don't kill 'im if can 'elp it. They boys'll see that he's unstable and unfit and will flock to you." I finish my explanation with a slight bow.

Spot pulled his chair back out and sat down, pondering the idea. "I don't know, Jacky-boy. That takes a lot of chance. I don't know if you would know how to start a fight with him." He stood back up again, crossed around the desk, to stand in front of me.

"Oh, that's alright." I bent over to pick up my papes and put them on my left shoulder. "Plans can change; maybe I'll start a fight with you instead." And then, with my free hand, I swung a right hook right into Spot's cheekbone. He stumbled and I bolted out there.

"Kelly!" I heard him scream and his boots thundered down the hall after me.

Now I've done it. I've broken Spot Conlon. And now I'm probably gonna die.

Oh dear, what's next? Ok, lets see if I can get the next chapter out on/by next Sunday?

Thanks for reading!