Brooklyn's Girl (A Spot Conlon love story)

Chapter 4 - Spot Conlon

As Jack, David, Boots and I began walking to Brooklyn, David started asking us questions. "I've never been to Brooklyn, have you?" I shook my head. I'd never gone farther than the bridge at least. 

"I Spent a month there one night." Boots said. I gave him a look. "Boots, thats not how time works." He just shrugged. 

David, after seeming to decide that I'd give better answers than Boots asked me; "So, is this Spot Conlon really dangerous?" I just shrugged. "I dunno. Never met the guy. Ise heard things, like how he stole his pimp stick from Pulitzer, but that might not be true." Boots snorted when I said pimp stick, causing Jack to hit him in the shoulder. I just smiled. 

As we reached the end of the bridge there are more newsies as we get closer to the Brooklyn Lodging. Eventually we get stopped by these two tough-looking boys, but Jack just pushed Past them. 

"Well if it ain't Jack be nimble, Jack be quick." A voice called out. I looked up to see a boy. A really attractive boy, sitting at the top of a crate pile. He had steely ice blue eyes, and dirty blonde hair covered by his newsies hat. He had a typical newsie outfit of old pants, and red suspenders over white shirt with the top few buttons undone, showing off his tanned chest. 

"You got a candlestick for him to jump over?" I asked, leaning on David. The boy looked at me with a smirk, apparently amused by my comment. 

"I see you moved up in the world, Spot. Got a river view and everything." Jack called up to him. So this was the famous Spot Conlon. I had to admit, he was not what I was expecting. He stood up and jumped down the crate pile. I noticed a black pimp stick with a gold top hanging from one of his belt loops like how my stick was hanging from mine. 

When Spot reached us he and Jack spit-shook before he turned to boots. "Heya Boots. How's it rollin'?" Boots took some marbles out of his pocket. "I got a couple of real good shooters." He handed them to Spot who loaded one into his slingshot. "Yeah. So, Jacky-boy. I've been hearing things from little birds. Things from Harlem, Queens, all over. They been chirpin' in my ear." He fired his slingshot, shattering a bottle before turning back to us. "Jacky-boy's newsies is playing like they're going on strike." 

"Yeah, well we are." Jack told him as David stepped up next to us. "We're not playing. We are going on strike." Spot turned to him. "Oh yeah? Yeah?" He turned back to Jack. "What is this, Jacky-boy? Some kind of walking mouth?" I stepped up in front of Spot. "Yeah, it's a mouth. A mouth with a brain, and if you got half a one, you'll listen to what he's got to say." Spot looked at me before turning to Jack again. "And who's this Jacky-boy?" I glared at him. "I do have da ability to speak. Names Jace Kelly. This idiots lil bruddah." Spot nodded, his eyes lingering on my face for a few minutes longer than normal before he turned to Dave and motioned for him to speak. 

"Well, we started the strike, but we can't do it alone. So, we're talking to newsies all around the city." Dave told him. 

"Yeah, so they told me. But what'd they tell you?" 

I nodded at Dave and he continued, his voice gaining confidence. "They're waiting to see what Spot Conlon is doing, you're the key. That Spot Conlon is the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York, and probably everywhere else. And if Spot Conlon joins the strike, then they join and we'll be unstoppable. So you gotta join, I mean... well, you gotta!" 

I rolled my eyes. It was pretty obvious that Dave was feeding Spot's ego, but I had to admit it was a smart plan. Spot looked at Dave for a few moments before saying to Jack; "You're right Jacky-boy, brains. But I got brains too, and more than just half a one. How do I know you punks won't run the first time some goon comes at ya with a club? How do I know you got what it takes to win?" 

"Because I'm telling you, Spot." Jack said. Spot looked at him for a moment before shaking his head and starting to walk away. "That ain't good enough Jacky-boy. You gotta show me." I pulled my stick from the belt loops in my pants, fully intending to hit Spot with it when Jack and Boots grabbed my arms. Although in doing so, they knocked my hat off my head, causing my wavy brown hair to tumble down my shoulders. When I saw my hat fall to the ground I immediately stopped struggling and just stood there, staring at it. 

Spot turned around when he heard the movement stop, and froze. He just stared at me for a few moments before he smirked. He walked back over and picked up my hat as Jack and Boots let go of me. Spot dusted off my hat and handed it to me. "I knew there was something off about ya. Din't expect ya ta be a goil tho." I took my hat and pulled it on again, tucking my hair back into it. I turned around to leave when someone put a hand on my shoulder. 

"Meet me at the bridge at sundown tonight." Spot's voice whispered in my ear. I glanced at him, shook off his hand and began walking back to Manhattan.