The boy was left sprawled out on the ground. He'd gotten a very good look at the pretty girl, but he was too stunned to realize just how pretty she was at the time. She had long dark hair with a golden hue to it, probably done by the sun, and brown-green eyes with little golden flecks. As she'd run off, the boy just watched her skinny, curvy body slip between people. He just blinked and then began to collect his papers off the ground. He stood and was nearly knocked over again by her pursuer.
The boy jumped out of the man's way as he whisked past after the girl. They boy shook his head clear and continued with his life. As he situated himself, he realized that one of his red suspenders had been broken. He growled and slid them off his shoulders. He grumbled again and tied the broken suspender around his waist to hold his pants up. They were only slightly too big for him, but enough so that they liked to fall down if he weren't wearing either suspenders or a belt.
A few hours later, the boy was sitting on a high spot on a pier and smoking a cigarette. He hadn't yet been able to get a new set of suspenders because he had not been able to get the rest of his money in order to pay for them nor had he found a pair that he particularly liked. He took a drag on his cigarette and looked up toward the street lazily. He noticed another boy dragging a girl down the pier. The girl was struggling violently. The two finally reached the end of the pier.
"What's all dis?" the first boy asked as he climbed down from his perch.
"I caught dis brat pickin' pockets ovah by Prospect," the other boy said gruffly, releasing the girl from his grip and throwing her several feet down the pier.
"Aw, shove off, ya?quot;
"Hey!" the first boy interrupted. The girl silenced and glared at him. "Nice goyls don't use such language," he informed, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Who said I was nice?" she spit back, quite angry.
The boy narrowed his eyes at the ornery girl. "Da name's Spot Conlon," he introduced, expecting her to back off a little. When she didn't, he continued. "Who're you?"
"Dey call me 'Moonshine',?" she answered, glaring at him angrily.
"Moonshine? What da heck kinda name's dat?" he asked.
"Look, I don't make fun a yer stupid name. I'd appreciate if ya didn't make fun a mine," she retorted, folding her arms over her lovely chest.
Spot looked her up and down and then spoke again. "Fine," he began, "you jist promise me somethin'"
Moonshine just looked at him. "What?" she asked, a definite edge to her voice.
"Don't go pickin' pockets no more, ya hear," he ordered.
She glared at him furiously. "In case ya haven't noticed, I ain't exactly da queen a England! I don't got money lyin' around. I gotta eat," she hissed.
"Dat don't mean ya gotta pick pockets?quot;
"Ya got a bettah way!"
"If ya shut yer yap, I could give ya one!"
"Why don't cha jist say it, ya?quot;
"Sell papes!"
She stopped before she replied to that. It had taken her a little off guard. She hadn't expected such a suggestion. "I can't sell papers," she stated, still angry.
"Can't er won't?" he demanded, leaning against a pillar.
"Eiddah."
"Well, yer gonna hafta loyn?quot;
"Er what? You 'n' all a yer newsie friends're gonna teach me a lesson? Yer gonna teach a girl a lesson?" she taunted, leaning closer to him.
Spot didn't answer immediately. He glanced down her shirt a bit. "If I hafta, I will," he answered, softening a little. He suddenly remembered that this was the girl who'd knocked him down earlier that afternoon. He finally saw that she was a very pretty girl. Her hair was loose and tangled from all her struggling and running about, but it framed her lovely face.
Moonshine just looked at him. She remembered him vaguely, his eyes most. She wondered if he remembered her. She considered his offer as she looked him over. He was fairly good-looking, blond hair and blue-gray eyes. He was skinny but well-built. He didn・t wear suspenders on his shoulders, but she noticed that he had a red make-shift belt. If she had met him under the right circumstances, she might have found him extremely attractive, but she was too angry with him to think of such things.
She sighed irritably. "Fine, I'll sell yer damn papers; jist leamme alone," she compromised.
He laughed. "Aw, no, dat ain't good. See, if I leaves ya alone, ya'll go back ta pickin' pockets. You'll sell wit' me," he decided.
"Da hell I will!" she scoffed.
Spot grabbed her arm firmly and shook her. "You listen ta me, ya li'l brat!" he hissed. She just scowled at him. "I'se da leadah 'round heh' 'n' what I say goes." She was about to respond, but someone cut her off.
"Hey, Spot!" a cowboy yelled.
Spot released her and walked toward the cowboy. "Heya, Jackey-boy. How's it rollin?" he said happily as he spit in his palm.
The cowboy spit in his palm and shook Spot's hand. "Ah, pretty good. Nothin' much was goin' on in Manhattan, so I figured Spot Conlon could gimme somethin' ta do," he laughed. Then he noticed Moonshine. "Hey, Spot, who's da doll?" He walked toward her.
Moonshine rolled her eyes. "Don't call me 'doll',"she said angrily, folding her arms over her chest again.
"She's a thorn in me side, Cowboy. 'Er name's Moonshine," Spot grumbled, walking over to them.
Jack looked her over, noticing that she was very nearly the prettiest girl he'd seen in a very long time. "Dey call me Jack Kelly, sometimes Cowboy," he introduced, staring into her eyes and offering to shake her hand.
Moonshine scowled at him. "Dat's real nice, but does it look like I care?" she spit back.
Jack was taken aback. He usually didn't get such a greeting. For a moment, he just stared at her. She just scowled back. He finally turned to Spot. "Say, uh, Spot, when I said nothin' was goin' on back home, I didn't mean nothin? We gots us a game on fer tanight. I figured I'd come hang out heah till it stawts," he shrugged, "but I see ya gots yer hands full." He laughed.
Spot grumbled. "Let's jist go play us some pokah," he griped, grabbing Moonshine's arm and yanking her up the pier toward the street.
"Lemme go, ya jackass!" she yelled, making the eyes of every man on the pier turned to her. She struggled against him and argued with him as he dragged her toward Manhattan. Jack laughed and followed them. This girl certainly seemed to be a handful, even for Spot Conlon.
The trio arrived in Manhattan about half an hour later. Spot still kept a firm grip on Moonshine・s arm. She・d stopped struggling and just walked along with them, fuming. She hated being led along, but she didn・t have much of a choice at the moment. Spot was far stronger than she. The people on the street looked at the three of them oddly, but did nothing about it. They finally got to the lodging house about ten minutes later, just as most everyone else was arriving.
As they walked in, Spot threw Moonshine across the room. She slammed into the far wall and fell to the floor. The other boys stood when they saw the Brooklyn leader enter in such a mood. One of the boys offered to help Moonshine up, taking her hand first. She yanked her hand away and stood up on her own. She stormed over to Spot, glaring angrily. He glared back.
"Ya bettah be real sawry ya did dat," she sneered.
"Did what? Gave ya somethin' ya desoive, ya brat?" he spit back, glaring at her furiously.
One of the boys decided he'd help the girl out a bit. "Hey, uh, Spot, what happened ta yer suspendahs? Ya decide ya don't like 'em no more?" the Italian quipped.
Spot stepped away from Moonshine and approached the boy. Moonshine just turned and looked at the Italian. No one ever really helped her out in such situations. Spot just stepped up into the boy's face. "What's dat s'posed ta mean, Race?" he demanded.
"Nuthin' Spot, jist wonderin' why yer suspendahs's 'round yer waist 'n' not on yer shouldahs," Race explained.
While Spot was distracted, Moonshine tried to slip out the door. Jack grabbed her arm. "Goin' somewhere?" he asked, stopping her immediately.
She grimaced and turned back to the room. By now, Spot had noticed her attempt. He walked back over to her, taking a firm hold on her arm. "Don't ya dare try ta slip away from me, ya wench," he hissed.
She shoved him away. "If ya evah dare touch me agin, I'll break yer awm," she threatened forcefully. Several of the boys tried to hide smirks. They liked seeing a girl who could hold her own against Spot Conlon's temper. Spot couldn't even think of anything to say back to her.
Jack decided to speak up and end the silence. "Say, uh, Race, we ready fer da game?" he asked loudly.
"Yeah, shoah, Cowboy. We all jist gotta go upstaihs," Race answered, smiling.
"Awright, let's go den," Jack said and headed up the stairs. "C'mon, Moonshine." She glared at Spot once more and followed Jack up the stairs. The others followed along. "Have a seat," he ordered, pointing to a bunk.
"Aw, Jack, why don't cha jist let 'er play, huh?" Race asked, looking for his cards.
"She ain't playin?" Spot announced. "Her money ain't no good heh?" He narrowed his eyes as he looked at her.
"Money's money, Spot. It's all good here," Race argued.
"Not 'er's," Spot said back, not taking his eyes off of Moonshine.
Moonshine narrowed her eyes to thin slits and glared at him, way beyond furious. "Why ya lousy little..." she began as she started over to him.
Spot stopped her instantly by quickly pinning her to the wall. She struggled but wasn't strong enough to push him away. "Keep yer yap shut!" he yelled. Everyone instantly turned to them.
Moonshine struggled a little more and then kneed Spot in the groin. As he crumpled to the floor in pain, she straightened her camisole. She bent down and picked up his arm. "I tol' ja dat if ya touched me again, I'd break yer awm. I awways keep my promises," she enunciated. She raised his arm above her knee.
Just before she could slam his arm down on her knee, Race grabbed her around the waist, trapping her arms, and pulled her away. She struggled violently. Race could barely keep a hold of her as he got a mouthful of hair. "Will-ya-quit-movin'?" he shouted, exasperated.
"Lemme go!" she screamed back, struggling more now than before.
Spot got to his feet and approached her. She stopped struggling a bit. He raised his hand to slap her. When Race saw Spot's hand, he released Moonshine discreetly. She punched Spot in the nose before he could even blink. When he stumbled backward, he slammed his head on a bunk and fell to a heap on the floor, unconscious. The room burst out laughing.
"Oops," Moonshine mumbled, knowing that he would probably not be in the best of moods when he woke up.
Jack just grumbled and picked Spot up. He dropped him on a bunk in the corner and then walked back to Moonshine. "He ain't gonna be too happy wit'cha when 'e wakes up, Moonshine, but 'e did need a good punch in da nose," he laughed. The others did, too.
"So, who's up fer some pokah?" Race asked loudly. Everyone nodded and sat down in a circle.
"Pokah?" Moonshine inquired, interested.
"Yeah, ya wanna play?" he replied, sitting down with the rest of the boys.
"Do I!" she exclaimed, pulling her hair away from her lightly tanned face and plopping down next to Race. Race blinked at her stunning eyes, now sparkling with excitement.
"Great! We got us a new recruit, fellas!" he announced, glancing over at her. They all looked at her, almost gawking, as she tied her hair into a knot.
"Well, let's git stawded," she said, grinning mischievously.
The lot of them played poker for a few hours. Moonshine seemed to be a perfect rival for Race, even better than Spot. Most of the other boys had dropped out when they realized that Moonshine and Race were the only ones who seemed to be winning the bulk of the money. Several of them continued to watch, more her than him.
That's just about when Spot woke up. He moaned and sat up, holding his head in pain. As his vision cleared, he saw Moonshine and Race playing a two-person game of poker. He growled and stormed over to them. He grabbed her bare arm and yanked her to her feet. "I thought I tol' ja she weren't playin?" he growled at Race.
"She's good, Spot. Leave 'er be," Race protested, standing, too.
"Ya wanna know how good, Race?" he challenged, still staring at her. Race didn・t answer. "She's a pickpocket. How many pockets ya got tanight, Moonshine?" he demanded gruffly, shaking her. The others silenced and stared at the two of them. None of them could believe that such a beautiful girl could be a pickpocket.
Moonshine struggled. "Lemme go," she protested loudly and forcefully, shoving him away from her.
A few seconds later, Kloppman meandered into the bunk room. "Awright, everyone ta bed," he announced. He noticed Spot and Moonshine. "Bringin' in strays agin, Spot?" he asked, looking over at Moonshine.
"I'm no stray," Moonshine retorted angrily.
Kloppman shrugged. "Everyone git on ta sleep now. You, too, little lady," he ordered, pointing to her.
Moonshine grumbled something and looked around the room, watching as the boys claimed their bunks. Spot grabbed her wrists and tied them together quickly. "Hey! What da hell d'ya think yer doin?!" she exclaimed, struggling against the rope and his grip.
"I ain't lettin' ya outta me sight, 'n' if dat means tyin' da two a us tagedda, so be it," he snarled, struggling to tie them together.
"Dere's no way in hell I'm sleepin' wit' YOU!" she yelled, yanking herself free of his grip.
He grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her back to him. The room fell silent as she squeaked in surprise. "You listen ta me, Moonshine er whatevah da hell yer name is. I ain't lettin' ya outta ma sight. Yer stayin' right beside me tanight," he stated, three inches from her face. She just stared back at him, her lip quivering in fear. Spot just stared at her a moment more and then shoved her away.
She sighed with relief and noticed that the top button on her camisole had been broken. She moaned and tripped after Spot as he dragged her over to the empty bunk against the wall. He shoved her in, and she moved as close to the wall as possible, her back to Spot. She pulled off her shoes and threw them at his head. He dodged them.
Spot took off his shoes and his button-down shirt and then climbed in next to Moonshine. He slid right up next to her. She shoved him away, and he fell onto the floor. A few of the boys snickered. Spot grumbled and climbed back in, this time keeping as far away from her as possible and still being in the same bunk. He fell asleep quickly.
Moonshine lay awake for a while after the lights were shut out. She had felt Spot smell her earlier and wasn・t too keen about it. She tried to think of something to do about it but finally decided that a bed for the night was worth the minor indignity. She・s slip out in the morning.
Morning came around, and most of the boys were still asleep when Moonshine woke up. She slipped out of the ropes easily since she'd learned how many years ago. She climbed over Spot without waking him and crept over to the washroom, grabbing a shirt off one of the bunks on the way. She pulled her camisole off and put the button-down shirt on, not bothering to button it completely. She took a small leather pouch out of her pocket and took the needle and thread out of that. She began to fix the button on her shirt.
"Aw, shit!" Spot mumbled under his breath when he saw that Moonshine wasn・t on the bunk anymore. He stood up and went looking for her. "Moonshine! Where are ya, ya brat?" he called, leaving the bunk room.
Race walked into the washroom and found Moonshine standing with her back to him. He stepped up to her. "Dat ma shoit?" he asked, leaning toward her.
Moonshine jumped and whipped around, nearly knocking him over. She looked down at the shirt. "I hope ya don't mind too much. I had ta fix mine, 'n' I didn't have anythin' ta wear," she explained, much of the edge to her voice suddenly gone.
"Naw, it's fine. It's jist dat-dat it looks bettah on you 'an it does on me," he laughed.
She smiled. "I'll give it back when I'm finished," she promised.
"Don't worry 'bout it," he answered. "You got it anytime ya need it." He smiled at her and then went about his business.
Moonshine smiled back. No one had ever given her something for nothing before. It was nice for a change. She smiled and continued fixing her shirt and then washed up a bit.
As the boys filled the washroom, Moonshine decided it best to go back into the bunk room and change; there were fewer people. She went back to her bunk and pulled the shirt off quickly. Race was on his way out of the washroom when he saw her on the far side of the room. All she wore now was a pair of pants and what looked like a linen brazier. Her back was plain except for a few birthmarks and a brand of some sort directly above her right shoulder blade. She slipped her camisole over her head, her back muscles flowing like liquid under her skin, and fixed the buttons in the front.
Spot stood in the doorway of the bunk room, also watching Moonshine. "Wow," he breathed as he stared at her.
Race just blinked. "What a girl," he thought, taking a deep breath. Both he and Spot were fixated.
Moonshine picked up the other shirt and turned. Seeing Race in the doorway to the washroom, she walked over to him. "Thanks fer da shirt," she said and tossed it to him. He just blinked and caught it. She smiled and turned to the door out of the bunk room. "Aw, shit," she breathed, seeing Spot there.
"Where ya been?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest.
"I been right here da whole time. What? Ya think I skipped town on ya?" she asked, mocking him. She placed one hand on her hip and put all her weight on the opposite foot as she spoke.
Spot didn't like being mocked. He grabbed hold of the arm that hung at her side. "Don't make fun a me," he said angrily, tightening his grip on her arm.
"Spot, give it a rest, huh," Jack said as he walked into the bunk room. "Neiddah a ya like each oddah, but will ya quit fightin'. It's gittin' old." He sighed irritably and grabbed his red bandana from his bunk.
Spot sighed, knowing Jack was right, and released his grip on Moonshine's arm. "You gonna run off?" he asked, looking into her beautiful hazel eyes.
Moonshine sighed and rolled her eyes, folding her arms over her chest. "Fine," she agreed, not particularly wanting to remain in his company but liking the rest of the boys. She also preferred Manhattan to Brooklyn at the moment.
Spot nodded. "Good, den. We'll go on back ta Brooklyn soon's we git our papes," he decided, going back to his bunk and putting his shoes on.
"I ain't goin' back ta Brooklyn," she protested, following him back over to the bunk.
He looked back at her. "Why not?!" he yelped.
"I got business dere I don't wanna look up agin," she stated.
"It got somethin' ta do wit' dat mawk on yer back?" he asked, nodding as if it were right in front of him.
Moonshine turned pale. "Keep still, ya brat!" She struggled and whimpered in pain as it seared her flesh. A split-second later, she bolted. She started toward the door, and, finding someone in the doorway, spun around and flew out the window. She dropped down to the alley below and scrambled up the street.
"Moonshine!" Spot yelled after her, his head sticking out the window. She didn't stop running.
Race was first on the street after her. He could barely see her, but he kept after her anyway. A minute later, someone grabbed her and yanked her into an alley. Race had seen this, but it took him several minutes to catch up to her, even at his fastest pace.
"Lookie what we gots 'ere. If it ain't one a da Scurelli goyls," a man with a black mustache sneered as he clamped a hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming.
"Looks like it, Morris, but I know a shoah way ta find out," the second man laughed, stepping closer to her and running his fingers along the seam of her shirt. She struggled some more, mumbling protests through his hand.
"Yeah, we could git a pretty penny toinin' dis one in. What's 'er name?" Morris sneered.
"I don't 'membah, but I shoah do remembah dis goigious face," he answered, running the back of his fingers down her cheek and neck. She whimpered, more scared of being turned in than what either of the men before her could do to her.
"Let's make shoah she's who we think she is, Oscah," Morris decided, pulling Moonshine away from the wall and closer to him. Oscar touched the seam of her camisole and suddenly ripped it cleanly down the stitching. She gasped and cringed, Morris still holding her firmly.
"Hey! You'se Delanceys! Git away from her!" Race yelled as he ran into the alley.
Morris dropped her before either of them could do anything more to her. Race punched them both out quickly since he was so angry at them. He knelt down to Moonshine and touched her shoulder. She jumped and looked at him, sighing with relief when she saw Race. He handed her back his shirt.
"Dere ya go, Moonshine. Put it on till we gits ya a new shoit," he offered. She took it and pulled it on, buttoning it all the way up. He helped her to her feet and out of the alley. They walked down the street back toward the lodging house in silence. Race finally decided to say something. "So, d'ya know da Delanceys er was it jist somethin' random?" he asked.
Moonshine blinked and looked over at him. "I know one a 'v'um," she answered, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.
"Oh," he answered, "Kloppman kin fix yer shoit fer ya if ya want. He's good at dat kind a stuff." He shrugged.
She turned to him. "Why're ya bein' so nice ta me? I nevah did anythin' ta you," she pointed out.
He looked over at her, baffled. Usually those two statements were not linked together "Well, it seems like ya might need it. Ya keep Spot Conlon on 'is toes, so dat gives ya respect from ever'one." He hesitated. "Besides, ya don't seem ta hate me," he added.
She smiled. "Thanks," she whispered.
He smiled and glanced over at her, watching her walk. She's goigious. She may be a bit roughed up by dem Delanceys, but she still looks good. Dat hair...Wow, he thought to himself as her hair blew in the gentle breeze.
As they entered the lodging house, Spot ran up to Moonshine and took a hold of her arms, making sure she was all right. "Where ya been?" he asked, actually sounding concerned but still being rough with her.
She shoved him away, returning to her bitter, angry attitude. "Stay away from me!" she yelled, turning and running up the stairs.
Most everyone turned to look at Race. "She 'ad a run-in wit' da Delanceys. It shook 'er up a bit when dey ripped 'er shoit," Race explained.
Spot sighed guiltily and headed for the stairs. "I gotta go tawk wit' 'er," he sighed, staring up the stairs.
"She don't like ya too much, Spot," Race noted.
"I know," he breathed, "dat's why I gotta 'pologize." No one spoke as he walked up the stairs.
Moonshine stood in the bunk room and leaned against one of the bunks, facing away from the door. She was looking at the rip in her camisole when Spot walked through the door. He cleared his throat. She jumped and spun around, holding her shirt closed. When she saw who it was, she turned away from him and buttoned the shirt.
"Look, I'se gots somethin' ta say, 'n' it ain't easy fer me ta say it," he began, walking over to her.
She turned back to him and saw that he was only a few feet away now. "Whatta ya want?" she asked, telling him to get to the point.
"I'se sawry 'bout how I acted. If I'd a known?quot;
"If you'd a known I belonged ta Scurelli, ya nevah would a touched me, right?"
He just looked at her. It was what he was thinking, but he never would've said it to her. He recovered quickly. "I was gonna say dat if I'd a known ya wanted ta keep yer past a secret, I nevah would a made dat crack 'bout Scurelli's mawk," he apologized.
She sighed, laughing a little. "Scurelli even scares you, one a da toughest kids in Brooklyn. Imagine da rest a us," she replied, folding her arms over her chest.
Spot leaned closer to her and pressed his lips to hers. Moonshine just stood there, surprised for a moment. Her eyes widened when she realized exactly what was going on, and she shoved him away, wiping her lips dry with the back of her hand. She just stared at him for a moment and then brushed past him out of the bunk room. She hurried downstairs, finding Kloppman standing behind the desk. She approached him.
"Uh, Kloppman?" He looked up. "Race said ya could fix dis fer me," she said and handed him the shirt.
Kloppman took it and looked at it. "Wouldn't it be easiah jist ta buy a new one?" he laughed, seeing the rip in it.
She smiled brightly, melting many of the boys' hearts. "Maybe, but I like dis shirt," she answered.
He laughed some more and nodded. "It'll be ready by tanight," he replied, turning and walking away from the desk.
"Thanks!" she called after him. She rolled her sleeves up to her elbows and turned around to the gaping boys. "I guess I gotta learn how ta sell papers," she noted, looking around.
Jack shrugged. "Yup, c'mon," he announced, turning and leading everyone out the door. Race stuck close by Jack. Moonshine followed near the end.
"Jack, lemme show 'er how ta sell," Race pleaded quietly as they walked to the circulation center.
"Race, she's Spot's ta teach. She ain't from Manhattan. Spot found 'er foist," Jack reminded, glancing down at his short friend.
"Jack, dey hate each oddah. She likes me," he protested.
"How d'you know!?" Jack said, surprised with his friend's words.
"She don't yell at me like she does at Spot," he pointed out.
"Ask Spot."
With that, Jack walked away from Race. Race winced at the prospect of asking Spot Conlon's permission. He decided to ask Moonshine instead. He hung back and waited for her. She didn't notice his presence until he spoke to her.
"Uh, Moonshine?" he began.
She looked over at him. "Race," she greeted.
"Uh, well, you'se gonna need someone ta teach ya how ta sell, 'n' since ya 'n' Spot don't git along, I wanted ta know it ya wanted ta sell wit' me," he babbled.
She smiled secretly. "Bettah you 'an Spot," she reasoned.
He grinned and began telling her everything he knew about selling papers. By the time they got their papers and were on their way to Race's spot, he was finished explaining everything to her. Race got distracted by something when they got closer to the track, so Moonshine continued on alone. Someone grabbed Moonshine's wrist and yanked her into an alley, putting his hand over her mouth.
Part 2
**Caution: the rest of this story contains some graphic episodes. If you have difficulty with such things, do not continue reading. You can e-mail me and find out what happens. You have been warned.