Kat sat on the floor, the cup of tea clutched between her long fingers. She wore 70's style bell bottom jeans, with a fitted chunky orange knit sweater. She looked beautiful sitting there on Medda's white rug, her hand occasionally stroking the cats that walked by her as they weaved through the boys on the floor and couches.

Medda had restocked on beer, and the guys were lounging around Kat and Medda now, just happy to relax. Mush asked tentatively about smoking…and Medda pulled out her own stash.

"Helps with those god damned headaches," Medda said as she passed her pipe to Kat, who took it gratefully. "Plus I just like it." She winked at Spot, who was smirking.

"Same ol' Medda," Spot murmured.

Kat had asked for a shot of bourbon in her tea. And with a smile, Medda left the bottle on the coffee table. With each sip, the sadness left Kat's eyes a little bit more. Jack smirked at her, taking a sip of his bourbon on rocks.

Medda's face was like stone when they told her about Kid Blink and showed her the video Race had recorded of Kid and Kat's run-in…Kat didn't watch.

"Don't you care," Medda said, kneeling in front of Kat. Medda's silk robe pooled around them as she held Kat's shoulders. "This isn't him. And you know it."

And soon Kat was smiling as Medda distracted her—all of them—with stories of her work with actors and dancers and asshole producers on Broadway. Kat's face lit up when Medda brought out her signed playbills, the scripts she'd kept.

Kat's eyes looked bigger with her hair cut in a long bob but she looked older, much more like a young woman. Her rosy cheeks turned redder as she began smiling and laughing with them, telling old stories…but they didn't linger on those for long.

As they teetered around old stories, they became more painfully aware of the two missing main characters…

"So," David began. Everyone fell quiet, looking down at their drinks. "We gonna talk about them tonight? I was thinking we could try and find out where they work? Maybe go from there…"

Everyone began murmuring and then talking louder. David reached for Medda's laptop, wanting to pull up Ira's Facebook to see if she had her work listed.

But while everyone else talked and told Medda more about what had happened, Kat was quiet, her eyes avoiding faces as she reached for the bourbon bottle. And Jack noticed.

"'s matta?" Jack asked evenly. Everyone's eyes went to him, then to Kat, who still kept her head down.

"Kat," Jack said.

The young woman looked up at him finally, her eyes nervous.

She knew Jack's temper. And by the look on her face, she was preparing for the worst.

"You won't find her work on Facebook," she said hoarsely.

The guys glanced at each other before looking at David, the light from the computer in his lap illuminating his face in blue.

"Why not?" Jack asked, his voice hard as stone.

Kat didn't look away from Jack. She looked him dead in the eye.

"Because she's a dancer."

"Well, we kinda knew that one," Race scoffed.

But they all read her face and it slowly dawned on them—

"Where?" Jack barked.

"At the Black Diamond," Kat said, her voice steady, her eyes strong as she expected his reaction. So she spoke clearly and quickly. "A high end night club in Midtown. You need at least $5,000 just get in the door."

She knew he didn't like hearing it, none of them wanted to hear it. And Medda stayed quiet, listening and watching Kat with an unreadable expression, her long fingers stroking Jack the cat.

Kat kept talking, answering all their unvoiced questions.

"She doesn't talk about it... She doesn't advertise. I saw an outfit poking out of her bag one day in class, and I asked if it was for one of her dance classes. I guess she trusts me…she's opened up about it a couple times since then.

"The high rollers of New York go there. I've never been, and she doesn't flaunt the money she makes…but I'd bet she makes at least $20,000 a week."

Spot let out a low whistle and the guys shifted around uncomfortably. But Kat scrambled to put their minds—especially Jack's—at ease.

"It's a strip club, but they aren't required to go completely nude. Just to dance," Kat said gently, her eyes on Jack. "But they make more money when they do. And there's no…sleeping around. Though many have offered to pay her ungodly amounts to just…Well, she's turned them all down."

Jack had been leaning on his knees until she said that last part. He flopped back on the couch, rubbing his forehead and squeezing his eyes shut.

"Didn't think I'd hafta deal with this shit again. Let alone in anotha lifetime," he said darkly.

"That's not fair, Jack," Medda said, her eyes locked on the handsome young man's face.

His head snapped up, his voice bitter. "Sorry, am I supposed ta be jumpin' fa fuckin' joy tha' she's some big shot's wet dream?"

"NYU is beyond expensive," Medda said defensively. "She's not sleepin' around. And the ones who are probably don't like it. It's for the money. Always has been."

"I know that," Jack spat, standing up to go to the window, looking out over the city.

Kat's fingers trailed over the orange tabby, thinking about his name…thinking about…

"I had seen him…before," she murmured.

She looked to the wall of glass to her right to avoid seeing the heartbroken expressions on their faces, but she saw them reflected in the glass, mingled with the lights of the city.

She could feel the energy humming through the city that stretched out before them. The lights were her favorite... against the dark sky, it looked like a cluster of stars. So different than it used to be…it went from 0 to 100. At least it did for them.

She thought back to that one day in September, when she'd been leaving class, the dark gorgeous Russian next to her…

"He has stopped her after class one day, asking about something…it might've been money."

A tear streaked down her face and her breath caught for a moment as she remembered his face.

"I didn't know then," she breathed.

Jack looked down to his right at Kat. Her body curled in on itself a little, as if it physically hurt her to think about him.

"He'd been right there in front of me," she sobbed gently, closing her eyes, blocking out the city.

Medda crawled over to her, gripping her shoulders from behind. Medda smoothed back Kat's short blonde hair, murmuring to her.

"Maybe he works where she does," Racetrack said after a long moment. "At tha club."

"I guess there's one way ta find that one out," Specs said with a sigh, looking up at Jack to see his back stiffen under his shirt.

"We sure we can handle that?" Mush questioned carefully. "I mean…we'd hafta be cool, guys."

"We'd hafta be rich," Spot said as he reached for another beer. "Can't walk inta place like that an' not drop some green."

"Green we don't have," Snoddy said.

"Don't you fellas worry about that," Medda said as she still smoothed her hands over Kat's hair. "Whatever you need," Medda looked to Jack, the guys looking at her. "Suits, money…I know you want to make sure she's safe, and to get closer to her…I want to make sure she's safe too."

"They're hiring cocktail waitresses," Kat said, rubbing her sleeve over her cheeks. "Ira—Tiffany—told me."

"That name," Mush groaned.

"Terrible," Racetrack muttered, shaking his head.

Kat took a deep breath. "I can see if they'll hire me. I need the extra cash anyway."

Jack watched her for a long moment, imagining the torment she might face, seeing Kid Blink around half naked women, being an asshole…

He could relate to the internal struggle he saw in her eyes.

Jack nodded to her, "We'll be right there with ya."

Kat sniffed and nodded. God, she looked so much older.

"Atta girl," Spot said, winking at Kat.

….