"Hey ya, Spot" a boy with a cowboy hat called.

      "Hey ya, Jackey-boy," Spot replied. He walked over to Jackey-boy's table.

      "Hey, Spot, who's dis?" he asked, seeing me.

      "Da name's Mac," I said, stepping in front of Spot.

      Jackey-boy stood. "Nice ta meet ya, Mac. Me name's Kelly, Jack Kelly," he said.

      "Evenin'," I said. I sat down at the table and waited for a waiter. One came, and I ordered a sandwich and some coffee.

      Someone came to sit down next to me. Jack and Spot had gone off to another table to speak in private.

      "Hey ya, kid. Da name's Racetrack Higgins. Most calls me Race," he said.

      I looked at him. He was Italian, good looking, too. He had dark brown eyes and hair. He had a cigar in his hand; he'd taken it out of his mouth to speak. He wore a gray shirt and a black and brown checkered vest. His checkered hat poked out of a pocket of his dark gray pants.

      "Evenin'. Ma name's Mac. Nice ta meet cha, Race," I said. The waiter brought my food. "Thanks," I said to him.

      "Where ya from, Mac?" Race asked, interested.

      "New Orleans," I answered after I'd finished chewing.

      "New Orleans? Dat's down south, ain't it?"

      "Yup. In Louisiana."

      "Why'd ya come up heah?"

      "Ran away from a serial killer," I answered plainly.

      Race looked at me, a little shocked. "Oh," he said, "dat's a good reason."

      I laughed. "I think so," I said, still laughing. I drank some coffee and set the cup down.

      Just then, a group of boys suddenly became really rowdy. I looked over but decided to disregard them. I finished my coffee.

      "Race, tell Spot that Mac's waitin' fer 'im outside." I stood. "Hey, nevermind 'bout tellin' Spot. Come on out wit' me, Race. Spot'll figure out where I am soon 'nuff," I said.

      "Shoah," Race said, standing.

      "Right, come on," I said, starting out the door.

      Race followed me out, and we walked over to the statue in the middle of the square. We stood in the middle of the street.

      "Hey, Race, ya mind if I have a drag on that?" I asked, referring to his cigar.

      "Nyup," he answered, handing me his cigar.

      "Thanks," I mumbled. I took a drag on it and handed it back to him.

      "Hey, kid, move," some large guy with a mustache said.

      "Hey, Morris, leave 'im alone. 'E ain't done nuthin' ta ya," Race defended.

      "Race, dis ain't yer concoin. Eidder leave er I'se t'row ya out," Morris sneered, turning back to Mac.

      Race started toward Morris. I stopped him with my hand on his chest. "Race, let me," I said. I turned to Morris. "Well, Morris, it seems that we got a disagreement. Anythin' we could resolve wit' some words?" I asked, hoping that it really wouldn't.

      Morris grinned. "Ya ain't from 'round 'ere, is ya? Well, we jist gotta teach ya 'bout it," he said with an evil laugh.

      I stepped away from Race. "Come on, Morris; come teach me," I taunted.

      He laughed some more. "Ask me nice," he said.

      I shrugged. "If ya want it like dat," I said cynically and took my stance.

      Morris laughed some more and got himself ready. He threw a punch at me. I blocked it and did a switch-kick to his face. He was knocked back, but he kept coming anyway. I blocked him at every punch.

      I really hadn't noticed at the time, but the boys from the restaurant had begun to come out into the square. I'm sure they were quite surprised when they saw us fighting, and me doing so well.

      Morris actually got a good punch in. He hit me square in the jaw; I stumbled back a few feet. Somehow he got a real good hold on me and lifted me over his head. Then he threw me on the ground. I rolled so it wouldn't hurt so much. I scrambled to my feet; my hair fell about my shoulders. Morris suddenly quit fighting. The others gasped.

      "What? Ya got a problem wit' fightin' a girl? Come on, Morris. I injured yer pride; come 'n' git me," I ridiculed.

      Morris looked around him. He was scared, real scared. I made him scared. I grinned and waited for him to make a move. Morris stepped away from me. He turned and ran. I laughed at him, as did the rest of the boys. Morris certainly wouldn't show his face round these boys any time soon, too humiliating.

      I picked up my hat and looked at the guys. "Well, I s'pose there's no use wit' the hat now," I commented rather loudly, stuffing my hat in my pocket.

      The guys laughed. Jack, Spot, Race, and a few others walked over to me. I snatched Race's cigar and took another drag on it.

      "Hello again, boys," I said, blowing the smoke out.

      "Where'd ya loin dat, Mac?" Jack asked. A few others ventured over as Jack spoke.

      "Ma pop," I answered.

      "Where'd 'e loin it from?" a boy with a patch over his eye asked.

      "From 'is pop."

      "Oh," the same boy said.

      "Say, we 'aven't been introduced. Da name's Mac."

      "Blink,” he said, "an' dat's Mush 'n' Bumlets 'n' Dutchy."

      "Hey," Bumlets said.

      "Heya, Mac," Mush said.

      "Mac? Dat ain't no goyl name," Dutchy said.

      I smiled. "Yer right, but Mackenzie is," I replied, still smiling.

      "Mackenzie's perdier. Why don't cha go by dat?" Dutchy asked.

      "I like Mac better."

      "Hey, Mac, we gotta be gittin' back ta Brooklyn," Spot insisted.

      I looked at him. "Fine," I said. Spot headed off toward Brooklyn. "See ya later, boys," I called as I followed Spot.

      Spot walked swiftly. I had a little trouble keeping up with him without running. Spot finally stopped walking at the bridge. He looked over the side and waited for me.

      "Hey, Spot, why we stoppin'? I thought we had ta git ta Brooklyn," I said.

      "I wanted ta tawk wit' cha," he answered, looking down at the water.

      I leaned up against the railing. "'Bout what?" I asked.

      "You'se gonna stay in me room," he said.

      I looked at him. "No; I'm not," I stated.

      Now Spot looked at me, but he looked at me with something in his eyes. Something I've never seen before. "Yeah, ya is. I ain't lettin' ya stay in dat room wit' me boys," he said.

      I rolled my eyes. "Spot, I kin take care a meself jist fine. Ya don't gotta worry," I said with a laugh.

      Spot turned his whole body toward me. "Ya really wanna stay in dat room wit' all me boys?" he asked skeptically.

      "Well, I ain't stayin' wit' you."

      Spot sighed irritably. "Ya wanna stay dere.. fine, but I cain't guarantee nuthin'," he said.

      I stepped closer to him and leaned in, only inches from his face. "Nobody's askin' ya to," I said. I leaned back away from him.

      Spot started off in a huff. I giggled and followed him. He didn't walk quite so fast this time. I think I made him mad.

Spot walked into the lodging house first. He told me to stay in the hallway. He went to the bunk room to inform the boys about me. I stayed on his heals though. I guess I wanted to surprise the boys, not have Spot tell them for me.

The bunk room was noisy. They didn't really quiet when Spot walked in, but when I walked it, they all shut up. A few jaws dropped. I stifled my laughter. Spot turned around to see me standing behind him.

"I tol'ja ta wait out dere," he said quietly through clenched teeth.

I looked right into his eyes. "Ya din't really expect me ta wait out there, did'ja?" I asked with a wicked grin.

"Well, I, uh–"

"Save it, Spot," I said and walked past him. "So, which one I got?" I asked, looking around at all the bunks.

"She's stayin' heh'?" one of the boys asked.

I looked at the boy who'd just spoken. "Yup, Fox. I was plannin' on it," I replied.

This seemed to surprise just about everybody. "Spot, yer lettin' 'er?" another boy asked.

"She don't want it no odder way, Spike," Spot answered, rather annoyed with me. I giggled again. Spot looked at me sideways. I think he wanted to either kill me or kiss me. I really didn't know which. I couldn't get a clear image.

"Well, sh- she kin sleep up 'bove me. Dere ain't nobody sleepin' dere," a small boy quivered.

I looked at the boy, but I couldn't get his name. "Thanks, kid," I said and walked over to him.

"It- it's Trackah," he mumbled.

"Tracker, eh? Well, remind me ta take ya wit' me, along wit' anyone named Hunter, when I go huntin' fer 'im," I said seriously.

"Yeah," Spot said; "anyone got a game goin'?"

"Yup, ovah heah," a tall boy said.

"Game a what?" I asked quietly, leaning over to Tracker.

"Pokah. Dat's Spot's game. 'E likes ta win, 'n' 'e awways does," he answered just as quietly.

"Uh-hunh," I mumbled, "ya think 'e'd mind if I played, too?"

"Well, I, uh, um..."

I walked over to where Spot now sat. He was in a circle with three other boys. "Hey, Spot, could I join next hand?" I asked, looking right at him.

"Goyls cain't play pokah," he replied, looking at his cards.

"Mind if I prove ya wrong?"

"Goyls don't know how ta play."

"Then I guess ya got nothin' ta lose," I mused.

Spot grumbled. "Fine. Siddown," he said.

I watched them play out their hand. I watched Spot particularly. I wanted in on his secret, which I would soon have from quick observation. He played well, but they other boys folded too easily. I think they feared what Spot'd do if they beat him.

"Well, boys, it's late. We all gotta git some sleep," Spot said, standing up.

"Oh, no ya don't, Spot Conlon." I grabbed his sleeve. "Ya said I could play a hand, 'n' ya ain't goin' nowhere till I get ta play one wit' ya," I said, quite determined.

Spot saw how determined I was and sat back down. "Deal," he said to one of the guys. I grinned mischievously.

I waited patiently for the cards to be dealt; we played Five-Card Draw. The dealer finished, and I took my cards. The boy to the dealer's left bet first; then we all, in turn, bet. One by one the other three boys folded. Spot and I were the last ones in.

"Well, Spot, so far so good," I said with a grin.

"We'll see," he said, very sure of himself. He tossed a few coins in, raising my bet.

I raised an eyebrow. "Uh-hunh," I tossed the same number of coins in, "I call." I looked right into Spot's stormy blue eyes.

Spot smirked. "Finally," he mumbled. Then he lay his cards down, four of a kind, four kings and a queen.

"Very nice, Spot," I said.

He began to collect his coins. I put my hand on his to stop him. I looked right into his eyes before saying anything.

"Not so fast. Ya 'aven't seen mine yet," I said, never taking my eyes from his. I laid my cards down, a royal flush, highest hand possible without wilds: ace, king, queen, jack, ten. I smiled. "Sorry, kid, but.. you lose."

Spot grumbled and took his hands from the pot. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ya win, fair 'n' square," he said.

I continued smiling. "And I thought ya said girls couldn't play poker. Boy were you wrong," I said.

"Most goyls cain't. Where'd ya loin?"

"I tol'ja I was a Gypsy; din't I? I used ta hustle tourists outta their money at poker, among other things. It was one a me specialties," I said with a smile.

"What were yer odders?" Spot asked.

My smile faded for a second, but I smiled again before anyone noticed. "That's a story fer another time," I answered. "Now, I need some sleep. See you boys in the mornin'."

I collected my winnings and dumped them into a small pouch. I walked over to my bunk and climbed up. I shut my eyes to sleep.

"Gee, Spot, no one's nevah beat ya 'fore," someone noticed.

"Shuddup!" Spot yelled. "Jist go ta sleep!" He stormed out of the room.

I laughed inwardly and fell asleep. The lights were turned out shortly after that. I heard the guys fall asleep. I lay awake for a while. I was tired, but I couldn't sleep.

I was finally about to drift off to sleep when I felt something touch my chest. I knocked it off me and jumped out of the bed as fast as I could. Whatever had touched me fell into a heap on the floor.

"What the hell're ya doin'!?" I yelled. I began to yell at him in Romany.

The other boys all woke. Spot came running down the stairs. He slammed the lights on as he came into the room. "What's all dis racket?" he yelled.

I knelt down to the heap on the floor. I turned him over on his back and held his throat to the ground. I pressed down on it to keep the boy from resisting too much.

"If ya ever touch me again, I swear I'll kill you," I said malevolently.

Spot yanked me off the boy, who was paralyzed with fear by now. "Whatta ya think yer doin'?" he said, holding me against the wall.

I looked right into Spot's eyes. "What the hell d'ya think? Lemme go," I said angrily.

Spot took his hands off of me. He turned to the boy on the floor and helped him to his feet. "Listen, Rocks, ya bettah nevah touch Mac no more, ya hear," he ordered. Rocks nodded, terrified. Spot turned to me. "Ya still wanna sleep 'ere?"

I looked at him. "I'm finishin' out my sleep here. I need it, but if any a ya try ta come near me, I'll kill ya. Tamorrah's another story, Spot," I answered.

Spot was going to say something, but he didn't when he saw the look in my eyes. He just nodded and walked out of the room.

I watched him leave. He slept in his underwear, no shirt. He was really very handsome. He was thin, but he was also strong, very muscular. His sandy blond hair was messed up from sleeping on it. His stormy blue eyes had sparkled a little when he looked at me before. He could be considered very handsome. Very handsome.

I laughed at the thought of it. I shook my head clear and climbed back up to my bunk to sleep.

The next morning, Spot woke me up 'fore everyone else. He shook me awake. I threw him off me with a Romany mumble about going back to sleep. He came back up and yanked me off the bunk.

"What's wrong wit' you?" I asked sleepily.

"Ya gotta git dressed 'fore me boys wakes up."

"Oh," I said with a yawn.

I stretched, and my back cracked. I walked over to the washroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I didn't look too great. I was a little dirty, and I had some cuts and bruises from my fight with Morris and the previous one with the serial killer.

"Mac, come on," Spot said, a little rushed.

I glanced at him. I rolled my eyes and turned on the sink. I splashed my face with water and rubbed the dirt off. I felt a twinge of pain when I touched my jaw.

I found a comb and ran it through my hair. I got my hair wet a bit, too. It could use a good washing, but I'd do that later. I finished washing and joined Spot in the bunk room.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Yup," I answered, shaking my hair out.

"Come on," he said and pulled me out to the street.

"Oh, goodie. Ya gonna 'show' me how ta sell papes? Seein' as how I know already, I deem it as pointless."

Spot ignored me and pulled me along.

That evening, we were all playing cards. Spot and I were battling it out. We had each won half the games. Whoever won the next game was the champion.

Spot was rather sure of himself actually. I wasn't so sure who would win, but everyone else had folded. It was just him and me. The last bet was made, and I called. Spot was about to lay his cards down when someone came into the room.

"Conlon!" he yelled.

Spot looked up and glanced at the boy vaguely. "Whatta ya want, Duke?" he asked, uninterested. I cringed.

"I'se lookin' fer a goyl—"

"Ain't we'se all," someone mentioned. The boys snickered.

"Her name's Mac. I figure she came dis way. Any a ya seen 'er?" he asked.

Spot lay his cards down, a straight flush. I looked at him; he glanced at me. He stood. "Yeah, we'se seen 'er. Whatta ya want wit' 'er?" Spot asked cautiously.

"She spent da night wit' me, 'n' I'se nevah said g'bye," he answered with a grin.

Spot didn't move. I could feel his eyes glowing with anger; he was furious with me. I set my cards down, five of a kind (yes, we were playing with wilds), and stood up. I tried to slip out of the room.

"Mackenzie!" Spot bellowed. "Git ovah heh' NOW!"

"Damnit," I said under my breath. I walked back to Spot's side cautiously. "Yeah, Spot, what kin I do fer ya?" I asked nervously, forcing a smile.

Spot looked at me angrily. Duke looked at me, quite astonished. "Come wit' me," he said through clenched teeth. He grabbed me by the shirt and yanked me along with him. Everyone watched as Spot dragged me out of the room, literally.

Spot took me up to his room. He opened the door and threw me inside. I rolled across the floor. He came in after me and slammed the door. I scrambled to my feet.

"What the hell's wrong wit' you?!" I screamed. I knew they could hear me downstairs.

"What's wrong wit' me?! What's wrong wit' you!?" he screamed back.

"I'm tryin' ta survive, that's what!" I yelled, making sure they could still hear me downstairs.

Spot walked over to me; he stood inches from my face. "Ya din't tell me ya slept wit' Duke," he said quieter, but sternly.

"I din't think it was important."

"Newsflash, Mac, it is."

"I din't think ya'd care. Besides, when ya asked why I'se here, ya thought I was a boy. What was I s'posed ta say? 'Hiya, Spot. I'm a boy, but I slept wit' Duke McClintock ta get some serial killer off me trail'? Yeah, ya'd buy that in a second," I said, moving away from him. I turned away from him.

Spot sighed. "I'se sorry, Mac. I got a bit protective dere—"

"Aw, really? I s'pose that makes it awright, hunh?" I interrupted.

"Naw, Mac, I..." Spot knew that nothing he said would make a difference now. So he went to the door and opened it. He yelled down to the bunk room. "Hey! Duke! Git up heh'!" he yelled.

Duke was at the door almost instantly. "Yeah, Spot?" he asked, standing in the hall.

"Come tawk wit' Mac, Duke," he said.

Duke stepped into the room. "Heya, Mac," he said quietly. Spot looked at me briefly and left the room, shutting the door after him.

"Whatta ya want, Duke?" I asked, not turning around.

He walked over to me and put his hands on my shoulders. He leaned in and kissed the back of my neck. I shoved him off of me and stepped away from him.

"Mac—"

I turned toward him. "Duke, I left fer a reason; what d'ya want?" I said.

"I tol'ja 'fore. I ain't nevah met no one like ya. I loves ya, Mac," he said.

"Duke, no ya don't. Ya think ya do, but ya don't. Ya think so 'cause I impressed ya wit' me skills, 'n' I slept wit' ya. That's all. I don't love ya, Duke. Jist leave me alone." I turned and walked to the door. I opened it and left the room quickly.

"Mac," Duke called.

I ignored him and went back downstairs. I went back to the poker game. "Heya, Spot. Ya see my cards?"

Spot looked up. "Yeah, yer dough," he said, "yer da new champ."

I picked up the coins and dumped them into my pouch quickly. "Thanks, Spot. Listen, I gotta go. I gotta git outta here fer a while. I'm gonna go lookin' fer a kumpania ta join. Sorry I couldn't stay longer, but Duke's really gittin' on me nerves. An' I gotta keep runnin' from that man. Maybe I'll see ya again some day," I said and walked over to my bunk. I took the few things I had there and stuffed them into my pockets. I turned to leave. I looked around the bunk room one last time. Everyone was going to miss me; I could tell by the look in their eyes. Spot most of all. I could see it clearly now.

"Hey, Mac, I'll show ya out," Spot said, jumping to his feet.

I nodded briefly and waited for him. He came to my side, and we went outside. We walked down the street.

"Spot, we gotta go ta the cemetery," I said after a few minutes of walking.

"Which one?" he asked.

"It's by the park, near where ya buy yer papers in the mornin'," I answered.

"Why ya gotta go dere?"

"I gots some stuff stashed there."

Spot nodded. We walked down another street. We walked for several minutes in complete silence. We finally came to a cemetery. Spot stopped at the gates.

"What're ya stoppin' fer?" I asked, turning back toward him.

"I don't do graveyawds."

I rolled my eyes and walked back toward him. I grabbed his arm and pulled him along. "Come on, ya coward," I said with a half-smile.

We walked through the cemetery to the burial vault I'd gone to a few nights ago. I pulled the key from under my shirt (it was on a string there). I took the key off from around my neck and stuck it into the lock on the door. I turned the lock and pushed the door open. I put the key back around my neck.

I walked inside; Spot stayed right behind me. I grabbed my bag from it's hiding place and took it into the light. I emptied my pockets and dumped all the stuff into the bag. I kept about two dollars out. I closed my bag back up and went to Spot.

"Here, Spot, ya needs this more 'an me," I said, handing him the money.

I saw something glint in the corner. I dropped my bag and walked over to the object. It was a second key. I picked it up and walked back over to Spot. I handed it to him.

"Keep it, Spot," I said.

Spot took it from my hand. He looked right into my eyes. He put a hand behind my back, at the waist, and pulled me closer to him. Then he kissed me, long and sweet. He tasted like raspberries.

"Why?" he asked after a few minutes.

"I'll come back some day. We'll meet here. I got the other key. When I come back, I'll tell one a yer boys ta tell ya ta meet me here. I'll tell 'em that ya should use the key er somethin' like that. I'll come back, Spot, but, fer now, keep the key close ta yer heart," I said.

I kissed him again. I didn't want to leave, but I had to. Then I grabbed my bag and headed out of the crypt.

"Bye, Mac," Spot called.

"See ya, Spot," I said over my shoulder.

Then I disappeared, from Spot's life anyway. He wouldn't see me again for a long time. Maybe several years. I don't know. Until I was sure neither Duke nor the serial killer were looking for me, or I killed the serial killer. Whichever came first.

The End