Their gazes were locked. Kip smiled confidently as their arms tilted to his side of the table. Sal grimaced and pushed her hand harder. The boy's smile faltered; he was beginning to lose. He tried to wrestle his arm back into place, but it was too late. Sal slammed Kip's hand into the table, then gave a cheer.
"Aw, rats!" groaned Kip, crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat. The chair creaked in the silence of the nearly empty lounge.
"I won fair and square. Now pay up." Sal held her palm, waiting to receive the piece of peppermint from her friend's pocket. She popped the candy into her mouth and smirked gloatingly.
The door in the far wall swung open, and with it came the thump of music from the swing club below. T-Bone stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.
"Hey, Uncle T-Bone!" Sal said, jumping up from her seat. "I beat Kip in an arm wrestling match. It was a swell victory too. He very nearly had me, but I got 'im."
The guitarist didn't respond, instead dragging himself across the former restaurant without casting a single glance at the pair of youths. Sal watched with drawn brows as he pulled a stool out from the counter and sat down heavily. The man sank his chin into one palm and stared into nothingness with a downhearted gaze. The two newsies exchanged worried looks. Kip nodded to the door, and he stood to follow Sal out.
Dime swirled her ice in her glass, and she took a sip as she watched the people around her. Her foot tapped along to the drummer's lively beat, her head bobbing just a bit.
"Aunt Dime!"
The woman searched the crowd of patrons for a brief moment before she picked out the kids heading for her. "Hi, Darlings!" she greeted cheerfully. "Have a seat, you two."
The duo pulled themselves onto a couple of bar stools next to the singer, wigging to seat themselves properly. Their legs dangled as usual, since they were the shorter ones of the newsbunch.
"Aunt Dime," began, "what's wrong with Uncle T-Bone?"
Dime sighed, instantly knowing what the girl spoke of. "T-Bone's achin' of a broken heart, sweeties."
Kip put his elbows upon the table and leaned forward, far enough that he invaded Sal's personal space. The girl gave a little scowl, leaning out of his proximity. "Why?" Kip questioned Dime. "What happened?"
"Well, he'd had his eye on a girl for a few days. She was a real pretty doll. You've seen the look on his face every time she came in here. Now, today, he finally decided to tell her how he liked her, and the little doll turned him down."
"Was she with someone?" Sal spoke up.
"Definitely not. She took one good look at him flat out refused him. And not five minutes after, she let herself get charmed by a man she never met."
"That's awful!"
"Poor Uncle T-Bone," Kip chimed in.
"I just hope he doesn't dwell on this too long," Dime concluded with another sigh.
Sal wiggled from her seat, dropping to the floor as she muttered, "Maybe not." Looking to Dime, she said, "Thanks for explaining."
Kip promptly followed, seemingly struck by the same idea as the newsgirl. "Thanks a bunch,Aunt Dime," he said.
"Get a wiggle on!" Sal called back, as she was now at the stairway to the hangout, the abandoned lounge. Kip caught up to her, and together the pair disappeared up the steps.
T-Bone exhaled deeply, staring down at the bowler hat in his hands. He hardly noticed the door open, and he chose to disregard the vibrant music from below. What followed, however, was certainly hard to ignore.
"Make 'em laugh! Make 'em laugh! You know everyone wants to laugh!"
The pair of newsies came running in with goofy strides, singing at the top of their lungs. They stopped in front of T-Bone, where Sal kneeled, and Kip proudly stated, "My dad said, 'Be an actor, my son.'" He turned himself upside down, and Sal pulled his legs apart by his feet, whilst singing "But be a comical one!"
The song went on, each gag and silly face wackier than the previous one. Throughout the performance, T-Bone glanced up a few times, other times watching in the edges of his vision, and finally watching with his head up. The song came to an end, and by the quiet snickers, the newsies knew they had their audience's attention. Without a pause in energy, they switched to a Charleston routine, punctuated by their usual shouts and laughter. By the end of the dance the two were breathless, and T-Bone was applauding.
"Bravo," the guitarist laughed while Kip and Sal bowed. "That was swell." He slid off of his seat, strode over to the youths, and put his arms around their shoulders. "Now, is this about my failed romance?"
"We couldn't stand to see you so bummed out," replied Kip.
"And we figured," added Sal, "that if it works for our audiences, it would work for you."
The jazz musician squeezed their shoulders, a loving smirk on his face. "Well, thank you both. Say…" he fished a pocket watch from his right pocket and glanced at its face. "How 'bout we gather the others and go out for a little treat? What d'ya say?"
He looked to each of their faces as they nodded their approval. The trio headed out the door, chatting and giggling over matters far better than failed relationships.