The weekend passed uneventfully, save for the feelings that still lingered from their strange fantasy-like evening...The guys had to wait to see Medda; she had to focus on her show and an understudy's debut in a lead role. She sent Jack and the gang tickets, enough to take up the outside corner of a balcony, a view that made them smile as they took their seats.
Jack and Kat sat in the front row, David, Mush and Race sat behind them with Spot, Specs, Snoddy and Boots laughing the loudest behind them. Jack shook his head, laughing with Kat. They would never not be newsboys, big children.
"So, 'Hamilton'," Racetrack mused as he flipped through his Playbill. "I've heard about this one a bunch. A 'game changa'."
"We're about to learn more history in the next three hours than we ever learned before," Mush stated.
"Exactly," David chimed, smiling. "I've read nothing but great reviews in the papers."
"And with actors of different backgrounds. 's never been done before," Mush smiled a little to himself, "Kid would like this…"
"You know that we know that you dance in the basement early in tha mornin's, right?" Jack asked, looking over his shoulder to Mush.
Mush blushed, his eyes jumping around to the guys' and Kat's faces. "Uhh...well, sometimes I jus' miss it, ya know-"
"Ya really good," Jack stated simply. "Really, you should talk ta Medda."
Mush gave a hard laugh, "just watch what these guys do an' you tell me who you think is 'really good'."
Jack blew a raspberry between his lips, the guys laughing.
"I love shows, this is gonna be great," Boots said as he looked around the theatre, watching finely dressed people sitting in their seats below them. "See Medda in action."
Kat looked around with bright eyes, "I hope we get to see backstage…"
The guys wore pieces from their new suits, dressed down slightly. Spot wore his hat and no jacket, his suspenders a deep crimson against his gray button down. Boots rocked a pair of vintage Doc Martens, a gift from Medda. Jack smirked to himself: fashionable newsboys.
The show was a hit, and the guys were pleasantly surprised to find they loved it, just like the rest of the city.
"That was actually dope," Snoddy said appreciatively.
"Yo, neva say 'dope' again," Specs said with a snort. "We're like, old men, dude."
The guys laughed and went down to the orchestra section after the curtain fell. They watched the audience shuffle out, the lights came up after a time, and they could hear stagehands moving things around behind the deep red velvet curtain.
"This place is incredible," David admired, staring up at the domed ceiling.
Jack looked up and smiled a little as he studied the intricate ceiling. His thoughts drifted for a moment to Medda's theatre all those years ago...he could still see Ira dancing there...his chest clenched achingly. Then, he heard a familiar voice.
"Thanks, Sal, I'm taking off early."
They followed Medda's voice to the side of the stage, where she emerged at a stairwell. She wore a two-piece midnight blue velvet suit, well fitted to her petite curves, and her hair was big and curly, like fire on her shoulders and around her bright face.
"Hello Ms Producer," Spot said smoothly as he took her hand and pressed his lips to her fingers.
She smiled and met Jack's eyes, "It's quite an upgrade, huh fellas?"
They laughed and she embraced Kat before motioning them to follow her.
"C'mon, let's go to my office."
They followed her lead to the lobby. She walked tall and sure, and Jack noticed how the theater employees noticed her and greeted her. He smirked: if only they knew she'd worked her ass off for over a century to get here.
"Hey guys, great show," she said to actors and dancers in passing, all smiling as they worked at their make-up and dressing stations. "These are my nephews...well, some adopted."
The guys laughed and followed her down winding corridors before entering a long hallway and a pair of elevator. They were all talking and laughing over each other, reminiscing over the show.
"Medda the show was-"
"Unbelievable! Tha dancin', tha singin'-"
"It's no wonda why it's crazy popula-"
"Medda you're on top! Queen of New York!"
They crammed into an elevator and Medda swiped a card, taking them to the top floor.
She laughed, "Shucks fellas, ya know how ta make a girl feel special."
They laughed, but she caught the tired look in Kat's eyes.
Medda nodded, "We got a lot to talk about, huh?"
Kat gave her a weak smile, "I quit the club."
Medda wrapped her arm around the young woman's shoulders. "'s alright. We don't need both of our girls in there...now to get the other one out."
Jack dropped his gaze to his shoes. Spot nudged him affectionately.
The elevator opened and they saw a long hallway of offices. People were walking everywhere, stopping to ask Medda questions as she walked by their doors. She answered them calmly and signed papers without missing a beat. She stopped at a pair of double doors at the end of the hall with a gold plate mounted above them that read PRODUCER.
"I'll be in my office Frank," she shouted over her shoulder to a curly red haired young man. "Come get me twenty minutes before curtain, please."
"Yes Ms Larkson," he replied before she opened the door and motioned the group in.
Inside, the office was bright from the sun setting over the city, the sunbeams pouring in from the wall of windows opposite the doors, much like her townhouse. There were two large brown leather couches facing each other in the middle of the room and a grand marble top desk to the left. Framed posters and playbills covered the walls as well as awards...Kat gasped when she saw four Tony awards in a glass case against the window.
"Medda...you're brilliant," she breathed, staring around the office.
Medda smiled, her eyes cast down on something on her desk. "It didn't happen overnight, that's for sure...the 'real' big wigs are upstairs. After this show, they've almost started to take me seriously." She looked up and winked and the guys grinned, knowing the persistent and persuasive woman she was…
"Please, make yourselves comfortable, an' help yourselves to the bar, fellas."
She motioned to the far right wall, and the boys whistled and crooned in appreciation when they saw the bottles and glasses on glass shelves in the wall, a mini fridge underneath. Jack went to the window to look out at the busy street below. Race made drinks and passed them around, Medda lit up a joint.
"Medda, at work?" Mush fainted surprise and the guys laughed.
Medda exhaled, smiling, "Hey, the headaches are a bitch, right?" She passed the joint to Mush, and her eyes moved to Jack's figure in front of the window. "So...what happened, Cowboy?"
Striking blue eyes flashed in Jack's memory, the moment he'd taken her off guard...that something, whatever it was that had been there in those icy depths, had haunted him every waking moment. He thought it would've calmed him…
But he felt them again, the strings attached to every inch of his body, pulling him as if he were a puppet on her fingers. He hated the feeling, the empty gut, the hollowness...it only made him anxious, restless.
"She almost recognized 'im, that's what happened," Racetrack said excitedly. "She certainly liked what she saw."
Jack shot him a dark look, "She saw the suit, that's what she saw."
"It was more than that an' you know it, Jack!" Mush exclaimed.
Jack huffed and turned back to the window. "I don' wan' everybody gettin' all excited ova it. 'S not like she looked up an' said 'oh hey Cowboy, there you are'."
The guys chuckled quietly; they knew Jack was trying to stay level headed...but they hated seeing him talk himself down after feeling so...alive. The first time in...well, since they'd found each other in this life.
Medda went to Jack's side, looking out to the brilliant pink and orange sky.
"Do you remember...when we brought her home?"
Jack inhaled slowly and felt a chill run through his body.
Medda smiled sadly, and Jack saw her reflection in the window, the sunset colors lighting her face, her fire red curls, the tears in her eyes.
"She was so broken," she breathed, almost choking on her words. "I still see her like that, sometimes in my dreams. I remember thinking...what if she never walks again?"
The guys behind them were quiet, listening sadly, remembering. Kat watched sadly, listening to the story she never asked about, the one no one wanted to retell.
Medda shook her head, "You and her fought like dogs, angry at the things you couldn't control, couldn't change. Scared, always worried...but then you saw her dancing on the roof…"
Tears fell down her cheeks and she took a deep breath, bringing her hand to her lips to hide their trembling. "She was like an angel, against a sky much like this one."
Jack took a steady breath, taking in the site of the city and the vibrant colors above it...he remembered that moment well...her face when she saw him, and the smile that graced it.
He had to close his eyes. It was too much.
"Jack," she said gently as she placed her hand against his cheek, turning him to look at her. "She came back to you. She came back to herself. She will again...or else why are any of us here? We must have hope that she will come back again."
He shook his head somberly, "It's a different world, Medda. These guys have more money than I've ever had, than Pulizter ever had, past lives included. What if that's all she sees-"
Medda shook her head, "I don't believe that, and neither do you."
Jack sighed, reading her eyes.
"She's right," David said from beside Jack, leaning against one of the couch armrests. He smiled knowingly at his friend, "Don't let your fear of heartbreak hold you back from breaking through to her….we don't have a manual from this, but we can still make it work, Jack."
Racetrack clapped David on the shoulder, muttering encouragement to him. The guys nodded in agreement, murmuring to Jack.
"It's what you told me," Kat said. Jack met her eyes and she shrugged, "We're not gonna stop obsessing over them until they come back...so we might as well not stop until they do. For their sake and ours, Cowboy."
Jack dropped his head, nodding a little and sighing.
Medda ran her fingers through the hair that hung in front of his face. "I take it she looks good then?"
Jack's eyes peeked up at her face, seeing her sly smile.
"That's an undastatement," Spot said to himself as he poured some scotch.
"There was defintely somethin' there," Mush said passionately. Medda looked to Mush, seeing an awe-struck expression on his face. "It was like somethin' from a movie-a moment-and you could tell, she saw somethin' in him, in you Cowboy. An' that's enough for me."
Jack nodded and smiled a little. "It's amazin'...she doesn't have any scars. It's..."
Medda's eyes welled up with fresh tears and she smiled brightly. "A fresh start."
She kissed his check, sniffed loudly, and went to the bar to take a small shot of whiskey. The guys laughed, and Jack sat down on the couch with Mush, Spot and Race, all of them touching his shoulders and back, reaffirming him in their own way.
"Now," Medda said, shaking herself of the funk and tears. "What to do from here?"
She turned to Kat, "Now that you've seen the insides of the beast...whatcha know, kid?"
Kat grinned a little at the endearment, thinking. "Well, I said before she keeps to herself, save for her friends, who are also her roommates, schoolmates, and co-workers at the club. They're lovely, but tight knit. They live near you guys, in Brooklyn."
"That's perfect," David said excitedly.
"We have to go back this weekend," Spot said, meeting Jack's gaze. "Ta get alone time with her, if ya can."
"An' then we gotta figure somethin' else out," Mush added. "He can't keep seein' her at the club, she'll think he's there for tha wrong reasons. An' it's expensive as fuck."
Medda touched Mush's shoulder as she passed behind the couch they sat on. She sat on her desk, facing them all. "Try to get to know these girls if you can...work your Newsie charm on them."
They laughed but Snoddy shook his head, "They're all so out of any regular guys' leagues, you should see the kind of care the ladies get from these scabbers..."
"I've seen plenty of well-kept women," Medda said evenly. "And they're more attracted to genuine relationships than you'd think...just be yourselves, that's enough."
"And Tiffany's friends are cool," Kat threw in. "They really look out for each other. You guys should go Thursday evening, when they're all there and it's not as crowded."
Jack took a deep breath, "Thursday it is then."
.
.
In David's car, Race played with the radio as Spot leaned between the driver and passenger seats, talking and laughing as Racetrack tore apart modern music.
"What is this garbage," He said, turning the tuning dial. "Can't even tell what they're sayin'..."
"That's static, Race," David said, laughing.
Jack smirked to himself, leaning against the back right window. Kat sat between him and Spot, and she was asleep on Jack's shoulder. Up above, the sky was darkening, November and winter approaching quickly. He could see a couple pinpricks of light twinkling above the city, but the light drowned out the sky. He remembered the rooftop of the boarding house, when he could see so many stars…
He watched people pouring out of bars and restaurants, hanging on each other's arms and laughing, touching. He wondered if they could ever have something like that, who'd she would be once she remembered…
When they didn't see her on campus Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, he wondered if she was sick, or if she'd even be there at the club that night. He buttoned his shirt, his brain on overdrive as his pulse seemed to quicken and deepen, his brow furrowed. If she wasn't there, he'd be happy to wander the streets to tempt fate, to see if he'd find her anyway.
Just having the hope of seeing her was enough.
He heard Spot calling from outside the door, the limo had arrived.
