DISCLAIMER: These characters do NOT belong to me unfortunately. I tried to kidnap
them from Disney and was unsuccessful. Go figure. However, Runner and Mallory are
MINE, and so is Josephine! Muahahaha! So take that, Mickey!!

A.N. Microsoft Word is giving me MUCHO problemos and so this story was typed up in
Notepad! w00t w00t! So if there are any errors, please keep in mind that I do not
have spellcheck and so.........well, yea. Sorry if this proves an inconvenience!
I will try to fix Microsoft Word as soon as possible! Bear with me, though! : )
Thanks, and enjoy the story!

Just A Little Bet

~*~*~ The first time he saw her, she appeared in the most dire conditions wearing

a threadbare high-collar blouse and a raggedy skirt with several halfdollar-sized holes

perforating its red fabric. Her hair was pulled back but velvety curls still dangled

before her face, giving the girl a childish and otherwise cherubic look were there not

streams of tears freefalling from her almond-shaped brown eyes. She had obviously

been sobbing over some depressing matter for quite a time now, for her entire face

took on a shade of crimson even utter embarassment had never known. Her shoulders

and upper back heaved with each cry that escaped her lips, and her feet, clad in a

most spectacular pair of lady's shoes that glistened in the moonlight and emitted

its own rays of charm, stomped onto the cemented sidewalks of Manhattan with a vengeance.

And yet, as Spot Conlon approached her out of curiosity and concern, he still found a

celestial beauty about her he certainly could never be obliged to turn down.

"Uh, excuse me miss. Is youse okay?"

The girl spun around obviously surprised by the realization that she was not alone

and covered her gaping mouth with a hand. "Please sir, I have no money upon me and I doubt

kidnapping me would provide you with any monetary rewards. Please, please, just let me

be. I am sure you can find some other-"

Spot held up his hands with a laugh. "Listen, goil. I'se wasn't gunna steal ya.

I saw ya cryin ya eyes out and I'se just wanted tah make shoah youse were alright 'fore

I went me way."

"Oh..." she paused a moment and looked down at the ugly clothes she wore, suddenly

ashamed of her profile. "Well, I am quite fine, thank you. Everyone cries from time to

time, right?"

"Of coise, but I'se aint seen many people who's cries like youse were just cryin,

wid ya heart all into it, ya know? Something really bad must've happened tah youse tah

make ya so sad." He casually approached her, his hands buried into the pockets of his

pants to protect them against the cool January winds.

The girl held his questioning gaze for a moment, but then diverted her eyes to the

ground. "It is my own business, sir, and I would appreciate if you would steer clear

of it. Not to say I do not appreciate your kindness, it is simply that I am not keen

with sharing the crude details of my life with mere strangers." She collected the

ends of her skirt as to keep it from dragging along the sidewalks and started to

walk away.

"Wait, do youse have a place tah go?"

"I certainly do!" She replied with the utmost offense. She was aware that she

seemed nothing like the middle class she was a part of at the moment, but for him

to assume her an orphan.........the conjecture was repulsive and made her fume!

"Yes, I happen to reside in a fine house, thank you, so you will not be needing to

seduce me into your shack for a night of vulgar pleasures!"

Spot raised his eyebrows at this, but smirked nonetheless. "Damn," he whispered

into her ear as he passed her by, "it would've been fun too."

And before she could slap him for the remark, he was already traversing the dark

streets that stretched for endless miles out of her sight, seemingly headed for a

world she imagined was all too sinister for her inhabitance.

* * * * *

Spot pushed open the wooden doors of the church of Saint John the Divine

with much hesitancy,leaning his cheek against the grand structure with a sigh, and

it wasn't until he felt the cold barrel of a small gun held up to his head that

he released all complacency and spun around wildly. At the sight of his younger

cousin, Runner, he nearly yelled.

"Jesus, Runner! Youse scared the livin' daylights outta me! Are ya crazy!? I swear,

next time ya try some crap like that again, I'll rip ya hand right outta it's


Runner doubled over and laughed hysterically at the Brooklyn leader's fright. "That

was the greatest thing I'se ever seen!" He said between outburts of amusement.

"Spot Conlon, fearless and respectable King of New Yawk, scared tah death when

some kid pulled a gun on him. D'ya know the publicity that'd get?"

"What the hell is youse doin' wid a gun in choich anyways?" Spot snatched the

weapon from his relative and checked it for bullets; unsurprisingly, it was empty

of such fatal things. "Ya know if ya muddah catches youse wid this thing she'd

pass out cold!" They both snickered at the reality of it all and proceeded to walk

farther into the church where a late night mass was being held to commemorate the

life of a late missionary who had "gone to meet the Lord" just days passed.

"What took ya so long anyhow?" Runner asked, taking his gun back from the older

and stuffing it into one of the inner pockets of his checkered vests.

Spot smirked. "I'se met a goil."

Runner's emerald green eyes sparkled with mischief. "Really? So'd ya sleep wid


"I swear, if Aunt Patricia knew all the doity things that come outta ya damn mouth,

she'd have a fit; she'd probablt blame me fer it all too!"

"Spot, youse gotta stop worryin' about me muddah. So I occasionally delve into

things I shouldn't, so what? I'se gotta have a life of me own, right? Being a

friggin altar boy aint all what it's cut out tah be!"

The Brooklyn leader laughed and smacked his cousin upside the head. "It's already

startin'. Soon enough, youse is gunna be some drunk bum off the streets beggin'

fer money so that youse can buy yaself a few smokes."

"Shoah, whatever ya say, ya highness." Runner rolled his eyes and then followed

Spot into an empty pew where they watched the service carry on until midnight

when the mahogany casket was closed and a wreath of lavender flowers thrown upon

its polished surface. Many tears were shed, and the churh echoed with the

distressful cries of those who had known the deceased member, but the two boys

only watched the procession with solemn eyes and what seemed to be an indifferent


* * * * *

Three days later, Spot walked into a miniature restaurant where he often stopped

just before dawn for a slice of toast and hot chocolate to escape the early hustle

of the working crowds of Brooklyn. Reclining into a booth by a window, he

smiled at the owner of the restaurant, a kind old woman named Josephine who always

wore her silver strands of hair in a tight bun, and waited for his usual breakfast.

Known as a frequent customer, no waitress even had to take down his order. Toast

and hot chocolate; that's all Spot Conlon ever wanted.

As he took off his grey bowler hat to run his fingers through his dirty blonde

hair, the bell above Josephine's entrance door tingled, signaling the arrival of

yet another customer. He looked up at the sound and smirked at who he saw. The

girl he had met yesterday evening on his way to the church service! This must have

been her first time dining at this establishment for never had he seen her before

and he had been coming to Josephine's since he was seven!

He kept his eyes glued on an area outside the window. Curious about her personality,

he wondered whether she would notice him, and whether she would approach him if she

did. "Here ya go, Spot." He thanked the waitress who layed his breakfast plate

before him and subtly began to consume the food, all the while perking his ears

to the familiar soft sound of the girl that aroused his interest.

"Uhm, can I please have a glass of orange juice and blueberry pancakes?"

Spot had to stifle his laughs. Such a request! Blueberry pancakes? He assumed the

girl had forgotten what area of Brooklyn she was in! Then he realized something.

He had first seen her in Manhattan; whatever was she doing in Brooklyn?! He narrowed

his green-blue eyes and stole a glance of her, making sure he had not made a mistake.

But there she was, the same brown-haired, shy but polite, friendly young lady he

had spoken to. Although, and this left him all the more confused, she was not

dressed in the same tattered and dingy apparel she had carried about like an

imposing vagabond last night but rather wore an elegant two-piece outfit that

glorified her feminine figure and made her seem of some famed aristocratic name.

With a long-sleeved green blouse marked with oriental velvet embroidery and a

silky skirt that reached to her ankles just high enough to reveal petite black

boots, it was a mystery she had not been stopped by some early rising goon as of

yet who would be hungry for riches.

"Oh, no blueberry pancakes? Ah, plain ones will do then. Thank you so very much for

your time. Have a good day!" She gathered her packaged food into her arms and

turned to walk out of the restaurant.

Spot lowered his head and took a bite out of his buttered toast as he continued to

look out the window, watching the girl out the corner of an eye. When she stopped

all of a sudden, he acted as if he had not even noticed.

"Uhm, excuse me sir, but you look familiar. Have our paths crossed sometime in the


The Brooklyn leader commended himself at having held the act for so long and raised

his eyes to meet those of the girl's.

"Oh yes! You were the kind young man who somewhat comforted me last night!" She

placed the food she had ordered on his table and held out a hand to formerly

introduce herself, but when Spot spat into the palm of his, she quickly retracted it

and regarded him with utter bewilderment. "I beg your pardon, but why on earth

would you regurgitate onto your hand just before offering it to me?!"

Spot smirked at the over exagerration. "It's a newsie thing, ya know?"

She shook her head.

"D'ya know what a newsie is?"

She was about to shake her head a second time when a thought dawned on her. "Oh,

you mean the fellows who sell the daily editions of the newspaper! Why yes! Such

dreadful noise they make! In the mornings, my father catches up on his sleep for

he is so dreadfully ill these days, and as much as I try to make not even the

minutest degree of noise, there comes the newspaper peddlers rounding the corner

of our block, shouting at the top of their lungs the most gruesome headlines that

ever I have heard!"

"Yep," he replied with a proud grin. "That's me boys."

"What do you mean 'your boys'?"

"Well, ya see, all the newsies in New Yawk live in different boroughs, and in each

borough, a leadah is in charge tah keep the peace among everyone and tah just defend

all the boys and goils whenever they's in trouble. Anyways, I'se the leadah of

Brooklyn's crew; been the leadah fer two years now." He beamed with pride at the

recognition she was granting him and nodded his head. "But turnin' our conversation

tah youse, ya mind tellin' me what youse is doin' in Brooklyn, and why ya were

in Manhattan last night?"

The girl smiled and took a seat in the booth across from him. "Well, if you want to

know, my name is Mallory Alexandria Carter and I reside in Manhattan with my father

alone. When you found me crying, I was mourning the passing of my mother for

yesterday was the anniversary of her death. The pitiful rags I had been clad in

were the clothes I was wearing the day a fire engulfed our house in monstrous

flames. My mother had rushed inside the house to retrieve an object-to this day

I do not know what it was-but just as she had re-entered, the roof had collapsed

and she perished in the rubble."

Spot's eyes grew serious and he sat up. "God, I'se sorry! That's terrible!"

"Indeed, but do not take me as one of those pushover girls, the kind who are

running from their past and seeking the stability of a seemingly sweet gentleman for

both mental, physical, and financial support. Both my father and I are strong

individuals and we get on just fine, but we still harbor the pain of mother's

absence in our hearts." She tugged on one of the brown curls of her hair until it

was straight and thought. "As for me being in Brooklyn, my father use to dine here

all the time when he was my age and he requested that I purchase breakfast for him

from this place as it has been decades since last he tasted its food. I, of course

had to rely on my knowledge of the city's layout for I have never eaten here."

"Well, ya father gots good taste, goil." He blew onto his hot chocolate and then

took a large gulp of the warm liquid, sighing at its delicious taste. "The name's

Spot Conlon, by the way, it's a pleasure tah meet youse." He ignored her bemused

look at the announcement of his name and slid his hat back atop his head. "So ya

need someone tah walk ya back tah Manhattan?"

"No, I think I will be........."

"Great," Spot went on. "I'se headin' over there anyways. Heya, maybe youse can meet

some of me pals at the lodgin' house! I think ya'd like Jack Kelly, he swoons

all the goils." Throwing her a wink, he arose to his feet, waved goobye to

Josephine, and started out the door.

Mallory arose as well. "Wait! I will not go to some dilapidated boarding house to

become acquainted with........."

"Don't forget ya food," the Brooklyn leader interrupted again. "And hurry 'fore it

gets cold! C'mon goil!"

* * * * *

Spot draped an arm about Mallory's shoulder and smirked. "Ya know, Mal, I'se a bit

disappointed that ya let me have me way. Youse said ya were strong, but that don't

look like the case anymore."

Mallory shoved the boy away with her free hand and groaned. "I do not remember

giving you the authorization to shorten my name and for the last time, I never said

I would enter that horrid residence your companions dwell within!"

"Don't worry, youse won't have tah. Heah they's come now, on their way tah the

distribution center tah get their papes." He grabbed her hand to keep her from

walking off and pointed to one of the young men heading towards them. "See that kid

there wid the red bandana? That's me pal, Jacky. The one behind him wid the cigar's

Racetrack, named so 'cause it's his sellin' spot, more so 'cause he sucks at bringin'

home some loot from them damn horses!" He made the last statement loud enough for

the others to hear and Race flicked him off.

"Heya Jack, heya Race." The three friends spitshook and caught up on the latest

events that had occurred throughout the state as leaders and their right-hand men

tended to do, oblivious to Mallory's presence. The girl set her packaged food upon

the sidewalk, and then stood with crossed arms and pursed lips, waiting for

someone to acknowledge her. Finally, Race waved towards her with his hand,

causing Spot to look back and smile. "Oh yea! This heah is Mallory. She lives

around these parts and was kind enough tah take a minute outta her precious

time tah meet youse."

Race held out his hand first and when the girl's smooth fingers grabbed his, he

kissed the back of her palm quite cordially and smiled. "Pleasure."

Mallory's cheeks slightly reddened. She tried to maintain her composure, but when

Jack Kelly repeated the same gesture, she let out a giggle and quickly turned her

face to speak to Spot. "It was nice speaking with you again, Spot. My father

is waiting for me and I do not want to keep him any longer." She smiled at the

other two and then hurried down the sidewalks with her food in hand.

Jack whistled. "She's got a nice body."

"And a cute face, but she looks a bit young fer our age. Where'd ya pick her up at,

Conlon, the candy store?" Race took the cigar out of his mouth and exhaled a large

cloud of smoke.

Spot smile sarcastically. "No, I didn't pick her up at no candy store, ya idiot!

I just thought, the younger they's is, the easier they's is." He smirked wickedly

and stared at Mallory's backside until she disappeared around a corner.

"Of coise," Race grumbled. "It's always politics wid youse. So ya tryin' tah beat

yer own record or somethin'? If ya take Angela, Marie, and Susan into consideration,

along wid at least twenty five others, you'd have tah have that goil in bed wid

youse within the next hour tah do that!"

Jack burst out laughing. "Ya both is lousy dogs. Seducin' goils just tah have 'em

fer a night."

Spot rolled his eyes. "Don't gimme any of that bullshit, Jacky. As soon as youse

got Sarah tah give ya some, youse told her youse didn't love her anymore and

dumped her."

"Well, that was different," the Manhattan leader shrugged.

"Uh-huh, shoah. So anyways, how 'bout we'se make this interestin'? Say we make it

into a lil' bet!" Spot reached into his backpocket and pulled out a folded stack

of dollar bills. "Gimme a week tah talk tah her, and I'll guarantee she'll be

beggin' me fer it by the seventh day."

Race rasied his eyebrows. "Beggin' youse fer it, huh? I'se gots five dollahs says

she'll be the thoid goil tah reject youse."

"Ah, come one Race, did ya really have tah bring up those two sluts?"

"Heya, it was the foist time in history Spot Conlon was rejected and I'll revel in

that fact fer the rest of me life." He laughed and puffed on his cigar. "So five


Jack held out his hands. "Wait, wait. Let's make this a competition. What if all

three of us was in on it, ya know? Like, what if all three of us was tryin' tah

seduce her? The foist one tah do it gets ten dollahs from each of the losers!"

Spot bit his bottom lip in thought. "I don't know. The idea is a real award-winnah

but ten dollahs is alot fer some bet!"

"AS if youse aint got ten bucks tah spare!" Race pulled the other two closer so that

they were huddled in a tight circle and laughed. "This is great! She may get a bit

suspicious but that'll just add tah the difficulty. So startin' tomorrow, it's one

man for himself, and as soon as one of us gets the goil-and the goil would have tah

acknowledge that she, well, gave herself-he gets twenty dollahs in total! Is we all

in or what?"

Jack nodded. "Count me in."

Spot smirked "I'se in."

"I'se in too," said Race anxiously.

And so the bet between Jack Kelly, Racetrack Higgins, and Spot Conlon had been

made. A bet over who could charm Mallory enough to make her give away a special

gift she could never get back. A bet that would end in regrets and heartbreaks.

* * * * *

So what do you think? Is it worth continuing? Please submit a REVIEW!!! PLEASE??!!

I love REVIEWS!!! Tell me what ya think!! Love it? Hate it? Not Sure? LoL! I wanna


*Winks* Jack, Spot, and Race is blowing kisses for those goils who submit reviews!