CHESS

Chapter One

I crouched low behind a sloppy stack of snow-covered crates, packing some of the white stuff in my gloved hands as I waited there for a moment to catch my breath. We'd been at this for nearly an hour, and I was exhausted. But I wasn't about to lose. I wasn't going to give him the pleasure of knowing he'd beaten me.

Courageously, I peeked out from overtop of the hiding spot, staring across the barren, white-covered streets. There was no boy in sight. I nearly stood straight up until a large handful of slush was slapped on top of my head, soaking through my hat and into my hair. I stood up with a cry of outrage, turned on my heel and threw my snowball as hard as I could, pelting him in the back.

A joyous "whoop!" echoed across the buildings as I finally landed a hit. The first one I'd gotten all afternoon. He was terribly good at this. Until he turned at the last second and I earned a hard snowball to the face, forcing me to lose my balance and fall face first into an unforgiving snow drift.

I let out a low growl of indignation, cheeks flaming from the heat of my embarrassment as I heard him jog over to me, laughing like a lunatic. I rolled over and glared up at him, pushing snow from my face, waiting for him to be finished so he could help me up. Damn bastard.

"Come on, Ang," Silver said, hauling my ass up from the ground. "We were supposed to be back at the Lodging House an hour ago."

Silver and I entered the Lodging House, stamping our feet near the door to rid our boots from tracking in any snow. Parks, the Brooklyn equivalent of Kloppman, came from his study and forced us out of our boots and wet coats so that he could dry them near the fireplace.

"You're hair looks like hell," Silver informed me as I tugged my hat off, running a hand over my hair in embarrassment.

"Yeah, well, you're face looks like hell. So swing on it, Silver," I shot back and gave his chest a shove. He shoved me back and it was a shove-war. First the snowball war, now a shove war. We are such childish newsies.

Until someone cleared their throat nearby and we both looked over to see Spot Conlon standing at the bottom of the stairs, arms crossed, not looking too pleased.

"I don't like not knowin' where me girl is, Harris," Spot informed him, giving Silver a pointed look.

After the night Spot had kicked Silver's ass for standing up for me the night we broke up, I'd been oddly protective of the boy. Silver got the brunt of things, just because he was second in command, because he "should know better" or some shit. But I'd always thought Spot was too hard on him. He put too much weight on Silver's shoulders. It wasn't Silver's job to be my vigilant, dutiful protector.

"Spot, I suggested the snowball fight. Ain't a big deal. We're back now," I told him, pulling my gloves off.

His blue eyes shifted to my face before returning to Silver. He glared at him for a while, until I got tired of the stalemate. I crossed my arms and glared at Spot, until he noticed my glare and the edge left his eyes. Something unspoken passed between Silver and Spot and I rolled my eyes, chalking it up as one of those boy things they did rather frequently in my presence, and headed for the stairs to put something warm and dry on.

Before I got the chance to, though, Spot grabbed me and kissed me, hard, in front of his boys. Most of them were just lounging around the foyer of the Lodging House. They cat-called and whistled and the thought briefly crossed my mind to sock him in the face for his arrogance and his general bastard-like behavior but I reminded myself that I actually really liked it, so I didn't slug him. He let go and smiled like a fox at me, which I returned happily with a dirty look of my own, before I left to change.

After changing into something dry, I ran a brush through my damp hair and tied it back with an old ribbon. I wiped my nose on a spare towel I found in the washroom, sniffling, my nose constantly running in the ice cold weather. I chucked the towel on Silver's bunk, smirking to myself, and then plodded back down the steps, seeing Silver sitting to the side with some of the boys, playing cards, of course. I shuffled into Parks' study and sat down in front of the huge fireplace, snapping off twigs from the nearby wood pile, feeding them one by one into the hungry flames, watching them fizzle up and turn to ash.

Ah, winter! I have never experienced anything so thrilling in my entire life. People used to think me mad because of the seriously sick delight I got being outside in the frigid air. But truth be told, I had never seen snow before. It never snowed in Ireland. It got chilly out, yes, but it was chilly all the time there. And the sky darkened, shrouded by the perpetual mass of clouds, but it was always cloudy in Ireland.

No, winter was something entirely foreign to me when I first experienced it. Yet, I still found myself itching under my skin nowadays, looking for every excuse to go outside and enjoy the snow. I wasn't bothered by the cold; I rather enjoyed it. Some thrills never die, no matter how old and hardened by life you are.

My thoughts drifted as I allowed myself to warm up in front of the fire. I was surprised that the Bronx had been so quiet. It had been four months and there was nothing from them. No stirring of tension, no making of waves. They showed up for parties and get-togethers that Medda threw at the Hall, the only real neutral ground in New York City, but they kept to themselves and didn't bother anyone. After the blowout with Desiree a few months prior, though, everyone was suspicious of their behavior but nobody confronted them about it. Not even Spot, who harbored a rather giant, tangible vendetta against Johnny for an unknown reason that escaped me still.

We were all pretty content with walking on eggshells around them. It was unnerving, sure, but it was by far better than being harassed by them. They weren't doing anything wrong, technically, but they weren't beaten into submissive silence by Brooklyn like some of the lower boroughs had been. They just... weren't bothering us.

It was still amazing to me how many people were truly frightened by the unstoppable, unattainable enigma that was Spot Conlon. It still amazed me, seeing people part like the Red Sea when he entered parties, little kids clamoring to shake his hand. It was hilarious, but very, very humbling, since I was the girl on his arm, blushing and smiling as the newsies parted for us. As I've told you before, I am not good with spotlight. I actually would rather like to avoid it. to be honest. I even got some handshakes of my own, because everyone wanted to 'make nice with Spot's girl.' I was slowly getting used to the fame, but it still was really obnoxious. People knowing my name and all. I supposed it just came with the whole package deal of being the girl of the most respected and famous newsie in all of New York (and probably everywhere else).

My thought broke in half when Spot entered the room and took a seat on the floor beside me, taking the twig I was twirling in my fingers. He tossed it into the fire and I nudged his shoulder with mine, smiling when he looked over curiously at me.

"I love the winter," I informed him plainly, as if he didn't all ready know that. I'd been reminding him of it ever since it started snowing, sometimes a couple times a day. I couldn't help it. I felt compelled to continue telling him.

"I know ya do, Angel," he said, smirking at me. If he was annoyed by my childishness, it didn't show. I was glad. He took every part of my in stride, and I love him so desperately for that.

"So didja read Silver the Riot Act then?" I asked him, scratching the tip of my nose with my fingernail, sniffling slightly.

He shrugged and then shook his head. "Nah, it wasn't a big deal," he said offhandedly.

I gave his shoulder a shove with my own, rolling my eyes. "Then why didja act like such an ass if it wasn't a big deal? You know I hate it when you're mean to Silver."

"I'm still the king, doll," Spot said, and my chest cavity shuddered delightfully at the way the endearment fell from his lips. I still enjoyed being called that. "Gotta keep the front up. 'Specially now since I ain't no womanizer no more."

I snorted. "You were never a womanizer, Spot Conlon. Get over yourself all ready."

His arm hooked me around the waist and he hauled me over to him, his mouth capturing the soft flesh of my neck. "Never."

The front door was thrust open just then and Princess, our newest Brooklyn addition, came bursting in, after spotting us in Parks' study. Spot stood up slowly, pulling me with him as she barreled toward him, long wheat-colored hair swinging behind her. I made a mental note to get the girl a hat for Christmas. Her ears were red from the frosty air.

"Whassa matter, Princess? Somebody hurt ya?" Spot asked, gripping the tiny girl by her shoulders.

Spot had been very protective of Princess ever since she showed up, quivering and sobbing because some of Johnny's boys had messed around with her, shoving her around and teasing her, after she'd ran away from home. She was nine years old, and she reminded me so much of myself, hardened by seeing too much of life in only a short amount of time.

But she was a whimsical little girl. She really was. She liked sweet things, always begged one of the older boys to buy her candy. As of late, she'd been finding little boxes of chocolates under her pillow. I suspected that Spot took it on himself to spoil her a bit, but I never said anything about it, just enjoyed his sweetness and the way he pretended to be surprised when she ran through the Lodging House waving the box around like a maniac.

Princess sniffled, her cheeks flushed from the cold air, her light eyelashes wet from melted snowflakes catching on them.

"No. I thought- I thought I saw my Pa. And I was going to use the knives, just like you taught me, but then Sneak came around the corner and scared me. So I ran back here, just like you said to." She turned and saw the trail of snow she'd left from running inside and having not taken her wet things off, before turning her large green eyes back to Spot. "I'm sorry for getting snow in your Lodging House, Spot."

Spot shook his head. "It's all right, Princess. No harm done. Are ya okay?"

Princess nodded and the door was opened again, making her jump in fright and inch closer to Spot out of instinct. It was Sneak, and he didn't look too happy, but he was carrying peppermint sticks in his hand.

"God, she's such a baby!" Sneak muttered, slipping out of his coat and hanging it on the row of hooks beside the door. "I didn't scare her."

"Ya did so!" Princess replied, indignant.

"All right, that's enough," Spot barked, more so at Sneak than at Princess, who clung to Spot anxiously. God, my heart cried out for that little girl.

"Sneak, you know better than to startle Princess," I said, stepping in the middle. I couldn't just watch anymore, and Spot looked about ready to throttle the little bird. "You were supposed to be watching out for her."

"I was!" Sneak defended himself. "I went to get us some peppermint sticks. I was gone for two seconds, Angel. Honest."

I shook my head. "You shoulda taken her with you, Sneaky. She's still skittish. Next time, think on your feet. Got me?"

Sneak nodded at my stern look and shuffled his feet. Princess peeked out from Spot's hug and gazed at him. Sneak smiled sheepishly at her.

"Look, Princess, I'm sorry for frightenin' ya. Come on. Let's go see if Parks'll make us some hot chocolate," Sneak suggested.

Princess jumped at the idea, abandoning Spot's hug for Sneak's hand when he offered it and they walked together to the kitchen to go bother Parks for something warm. They were sweet together and I really appreciated the way Sneak stepped up to be Princess's protector and the way he looked out for her was really very sweet.

Nodding in satisfaction, I tossed a smirk back at Spot, who had taken residence in Parks' armchair. "See? It's a much nicer conversation when ya ain't so mean," I told him, settling myself into his lap, resting my head on his sturdy shoulder.

He smiled and his arms wound around my waist, pulling me closer. "I think Sneak likes it best when ya yell at him, Angel. If ya can call that yellin'. Ya too damn soft."

I snorted. "Thanks."

"Better than bein' a pistol like ya used to be," he continued. I cuffed him on the shoulder playfully.

"You liked it," I accused.

"Spot Conlon doesn't like anything," he informed me, closing his eyes. "He is an enigma, a mystery. And pretty damn sexy."

I rolled my eyes. "With an ego that has its own gravity."

"Point?"

"Bastard."

"That's Mr. Bastard to you."

He pulled me tighter against him and I fished out the steel skeleton key from under his shirt, holding it as he dozed quietly against me. I let him sleep for a while, not sure how long we were sitting there. No one bothered us, which was weird. Eventually, I pressed my lips against the curve of his neck, watching his eyes flicker open sleepily.

"Tired much?" I murmured playfully.

A lazy smile curved his lips and I resisted the urge to crush my lips against that smiling mouth. "Nah. Just like havin' ya close all the time."

"Why?" I teased him. "Didja miss me or somethin', Conlon?"

He chuckled and something warm flooded into the hollow cavity of my chest. "Every single minute of every damn day that you were gone."

"So," I said slowly. "Ya don't like me, but ya missed me."

This earned me another peal of quiet laughter and a kiss against the hollow of my throat. "Exactly," he agreed.

I scowled in his general direction. "You're such an ass."

"I love ya, too, Lissa."

Wow. This is the beginning of the end. It's surreal. But all great stories must be finished eventually, yes? :) Hopefully this satisfies all of you SpotxAngel lovers, because it's only going to go downhill from here. I'm hoping to pass twenty chapters. I hate writing things that are considered "short stories". I'm working on this thing called PLOT DEVELOPMENT. Hopefully it works, yo. xD

BTW, I may have another casting call coming up. Just because I've gained some new reviewers since BLUE EYES, some of you have hopped on board with me during VICIOUS (yay for me!) so I figured I should give you a chance to be part of the greatness (it is great, isn't it?) that is this trilogy.

Anyways, there you have it. Love it, and drop me a review, telling me how great I am.(NOT!) Oh, and tell my Spot!muse how great he is, too. You know how he gets. :)

CTB!

xx Wicked

PS- Princess is not mine. She belongs to Princess Conlon, who agreed to let me borrow her. :) Hope I've done her justice, dearie.