They got to a table in the corner, a prime spot encased by window, even the floor. The lights of the club shined through the clever design, the view of the city sprawling below them like a sea of lights. Jack allowed a small impressed smirk as he stepped onto the thick glass floor.
He might've resented the flash of money...but these guys definitely knew how to use it.
The guys whistled behind him. "I dunno Mush," Snoddy laughed. "I know ya wanna new plan, but our luck seems ta be in good shape here..."
"Don' trust luck," Spot said as he fired up a cigar, the flame from his zippo illuminating his face. "She's a tough dame ta keep."
Racetrack and Snoddy smiled at the passing waitress and she smiled sweetly at them, popping her left foot as she laughed and wrote down their drinks.
Jack laughed to himself, watching their reflections in the glass in front of him. Same as always…
His gaze wandered over his own image in the windowpane, dressed in the same black suit, freshly pressed… the city lights were mesmerizing, bobbing around and staying still, like a dance of orbs...his reflection was a dark presence, like a storm hovering over the city. At least that's what it felt like under his skin, every inch a live wire...
Jack rubbed his eyes, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his hair; Spot had done it, combed pomade through it...He looked like someone else, but someone he actually liked.
Racetrack had given them gummies earlier...he tried to clear his head, to think about more relaxing things...
"...and ya see's that guy there? The one in all black?"
Jack's eyes glanced up to Racetrack's reflection, seeing him pointing him out to the waitress.
"Y-yes, sir," she stammered. She saw him now.
"Give 'im a stiff Manhattan." Race handed her Medda's platinum card.
Thanks, Race, Jack thought in relief. He was nervous, and the pot was amplifying it.
Jack's eyes wandered to the other men in the room, gambling, talking to the young dancers and waitresses…laughing and drinking themselves further down the rabbithole.
He couldn't imagine what life was like for these guys, making the money they do, spending it the way they do...every night and...for what? Hollow words and empty hands by morning. Jack didn't care what they wore, how many jewels they gave their wives...it looked like a lonely life. He suddenly felt bad for them.
He gave a hard laugh, and the feeling disappeared.
A bouncing movement caught his eye in the glass over his shoulder: one of the dancers, her golden brown skin playing with the lavender over lighting, approached Mush and Spot where they stood near a tall glass cocktail table, the glass reflecting the lights.
Mush and Spot's expressions stayed strong and smooth, but Jack could see the astonishment in their eyes as this woman walked towards them, wearing a see-through flowing dress, her expensive purple lingerie clearly visible, her heels giving her almost four inches over Mush
Her hair was what caught Jack's eye: beautiful and voluptuous, it bounced enticingly around her Doe-like face, a cloud of caramel and blonde curls no bigger than a pencil... Mush's eyes were drawn to her lips, caramel blending to rose.
Spot eyed her apprehensively for a moment before seeing a red head approaching from behind her, wearing strappy deep emerald green lingerie...holy shit…
"Be strong, man," Spot murmured into Mush's ear. "Remember the sirens in that George Clooney movie..."
"I hope you're the toad," Mush laughed. He was thoroughly enjoying this moment, watching these two goddesses walk toward them in front of all these old bastards.
Of course, Spot and Mush didn't realize how sharp they looked in their suits, all freshly cut and shaved...by the look in the womens' eyes, they were tired of old rich men.
"Good evening gentlemen," the first woman said. "Is this your first time…" she flashed an enticingly perfect smile, "...at The Black Diamond?"
Her voice broke Mush's smooth expression. "'s that Scottish?"
The girl's facade broke as well, her dark brown eyes widening in genuine surprise, "Oh my god, no one here has ever gotten that so fast!"
Mush laughed at her drop in character. Spot, standing just behind Mush, fainting interest in the view of the city, nudged him in the ribs with his elbow. Mush straightened up, quietly clearing his throat.
"I used ta know a Scottish family," Mush said smoothly, matter-of-fact like.
Spot shot him a look; yeah, they'd known a Scottish family...in 1897.
"Well, what about you?" she looked at him curiously. "You got...quite a New Yorker accent but somethin' else too…"
Mush froze on the spot...he didn't really know what he was...He saw a movement from the lower corner of his eye, seeing Spot's hand rotating in a circle motion...he was telling him to make something up.
"My mother was Irish, my father was from Cuba."
She nodded in appreciation, her interest growing. "Scottish mother an' up brinin'," she contained her excitement behind her lips, eyeing Mush. "My father is Jamaican."
"Your eyes are amazing," Mush said honestly, without a care in the world.
Jack could tell by the look on her face...no other guy existed.
The redhead next to her had been watching Spot.
"Enjoying the view, slick?" she crooned.
He laughed softly, his eyes sliding back to her. "It's Spot, actually. An' the view sure is better with you in it."
He smiled at her intrigued expression and nodded behind her towards the windows, the city sprawling into the night sky. "Why don' we go bet a betta look at it?"
She smiled and took Spot's offered arm. "Want some champagne…?" he trailed off and had her hooked.
Jack grinned...and a thought occurred to him, wondering if these were Tiffany's friends…
Just then, as his eyes scanned over the dark room, he caught a flash of dark hair falling down a bare back at the main bar, just to their left. It was her, wearing a maroon evening dress...the silk wrapped tightly around her torso, pressing her breasts up, and fell loosely around her legs, slits up to her hips….
At the same moment, another movement up in the balcony across the room caught his attention and Jack felt the air leave his lungs: Kid Blink, dressed all in black, descending the stairs over the bar near the entrance.
It struck Jack in the moment, in a sea of people dressed in the same designer suits and lingerie, the way his best friend stood out to him like a man on fire.
He was laughing with a dancer on his arm, a drink in his other hand. He looked toward the main bar... and his eyes landed on her.
Jack inhaled like he'd forgotten how to breathe...David saw his face.
"Jack?" his voice sounded slightly alarmed.
When his heart didn't feel constricted at the sight of him, his best friend... Jack looked back to the young woman at the bar. He didn't hear David next to him. He didn't hear anything.
Men had swarmed around her, trying to talk with her and buy her drinks. But she merely looked over them, her long lashes casting shadows over her unimpressed expression. She took a champagne flute and pretended to listen to the gaggle around her, a fake but charming smile on her lips. But it didn't touch her eyes, not even close.
Kid Blink left the dancer immediately and made a straight line for her. The hair on the back of Jack's neck bristled like a dog's.
And before it went away, before he had a moment to think it over, he was on the move. The guys sputtered behind him, too stunned and unsure to stop him.
"Oh, shit," Spot muttered as he came to a stop next to David, two empty champagne flutes in his hand.
"He's gonna get us kicked out," Mush said, his voice worried as he dragged his hand over his face.
The dancers next to Mush, the red head and the scottish, eyed them all carefully.
"Why's that?" the redhead asked, her eyes following Jack to the bar, lingering on his broad shoulders that dropped like a cat's.
"Is he dangerous?" The Scottish asked with dark curiosity, her bright hazel eyes nailing Mush on the spot.
He looked at her, dazed, and shook the shocked expression from his face. "Nah, not at all, I promise...he's just-taken with her."
"Ah...Tiffany," the red-head glanced at her friend. Something passed between them.
"Tiffany," Race said with a shiver before throwing back Jack's Manhattan.
"I don't like this…" Spot muttered, his eyes on Kid.
David shook his head, still watching Jack's retreating figure. "...let's see how this plays out, guys."
Specs nodded in agreement but sighed, "Just as long as Kid isn't too much of a douchebag…"
The men at the bar stepped aside as they saw Kid Blink, shaking his hand and laughing at something he said to them. Then he snaked his arm around Ira-Tiffany.
Jack had to say the name over and over in his head, but he couldn't make it fit no matter how hard he tried.
He got closer, sliding smoothly between the suited bodies. He got a good view of Tiffany's irritated face as Kid Blink said something in her ear. Jack could hear her over the clinking of glasses and robust voices around them.
"I already told you, Mr. Cage," she said in a low, dark voice. "Ask me again and I will walk."
"You can try," he laughed, showing his perfect teeth. "The boss is a persistent kind of guy."
Jack was shaken at the sound of his voice, his stomach turning over...he sounded exactly the same. Jack felt clammy all over, like he was looking at a ghost.
Kid Blink…
But Jack stayed focused...these were strangers. He had to play his cards carefully…
Jack was standing right in front of them, and they both looked up at the same time. Jack steadied himself as he saw Kid's face up close for the first time. Just the same, like the dreams that woke him in the middle of the night in a pool of sweat. It was strange to see both of his eyes, strong and unmoving, blue...his sandy blonde hair...
Tiffany's eyes stayed on Jack as if she were hypnotized, frozen.
Being so close had Jack ready to jump out of his skin; maybe it was from the gummies, or maybe it was the fact that the two he loved most in this world were right here and didn't know who the hell he was.
He leaned toward her, and was grateful for the steadiness in his voice.
"I believe you owe me a drink," he said in her ear.
There was a pause. Kid Blink-Cage-gave a hard bark of a laugh.
"She owes you a drink?" he asked incredulously. "And just who are you? I've never seen you before."
"Not in this life," Jack agreed without looking away from her.
He inclined his head to her. His heart was flying away in his chest.
"Louis J. Kelly," he said after a moment, his gaze tracing her face slowly...it was so dark in here, he couldn't see the color of her eyes…
He cut his eyes back to Kid Blink. He'd used Kid's real name, Louis...the name only Jack knew and had kept secret all his life. Newsies never gave their real names except to those they truly trusted…
Jack watched for any sign of recognition, but the asshole scoffed again.
"Well, Mr. Kelly, I don't think Ms. Wingham wants anything to do with-"
"Don't speak for me," she wheeled on him, glaring. "He's right: I owe him a drink."
Jack felt a surge of satisfaction course through him from his head down to his toes. He liked that she played along.
Cage scowled and turned to pick up his drink from the bar, which had been refilled.
"In that case, I must congratulate you, Mr. Kelly," he said seethingly, looking back to Jack. "You must have paid the right price for this one."
Anger burned in Tiffany's eyes as she watched Cage walk away but the fire died the moment she looked back to Jack.
"What do you take?" she asked in a low voice.
Jack ignored the stares he felt on him, on his back. The men around him oozed envy, and they were trying their hardest to eavesdrop. Jack could almost hear their questions: who's this punk kid? What does he do?
But they didn't exist.
"Irish Whisky," he answered. "Neat."
Tiffany smiled a little and turned to the bartender. Jack frowned when he saw the pairs of eyes around them land on her, raking over her body. Some took their chance to speak with her at the bar, slurring over their words. He wanted to soak the lot of 'em. But she seemed unphased by the whole affair.
She turned back to him, a fresh glass of champagne and a healthy pour of whisky in her hands.
"Follow me?" she asked silkily as she stepped away from the gaggle of suits.
"Anywhere," he said as she handed him his drink.
His hand grazed hers and her eyes fluttered up to his, slightly taken aback. But he got the feeling she didn't dislike it.
She walked across the marble floor, her hips swinging in a maddening way, and Jack stole a glance at his friends, who were watching them like hawks. Jack took a sip of his drink as a salute, and the guys nodded, smiling ear to ear in appreciation.
He didn't know where she was leading him; she went toward the entrance and took a right along the wall, pulling back a velvet curtain and disappearing behind it. He followed, and was pleasantly surprised to feel fresh air on his face; they'd stepped outside.
They were on a wrap around glass balcony, high top tables and chairs scattered among tall chrome heaters. He hadn't noticed before... it wrapped around the entire floor.
The night air was a sweet relief. They were the only ones, for now.
She stepped around the corner to the right, out of sight of the windows. She placed her drink on the cleverly designed bar ledge, and pulled her thick long hair over her left shoulder, exposing her back to him. She was even more toned than she had been in his memory, more defined and shapely...a perfect marriage of muscle and curve in her womanly body.
He tried to blink and look away in hopes of not becoming dumb.
"So, Mr. Kelly..."
He didn't want her to talk to him like he was one of the suits inside. He knew she was playing a part...he'd been waiting for this moment; he wanted it to be as real as possible, if it could be…
He stepped up to her side and placed his glass on the rail next to hers. He looked up, intending to speak first, and everything stopped.
The city lights lit her face with a soft glow, pinks and purples and warm tones. They suited her, and he saw, with a shocking jolt, her eyes were not as icy as the ones that haunted him...they were light green...no, they were blue...like a warm ocean he'd never seen before, bright in the center and dark at the edges. They were...even more beautiful than any he had seen before.
Her face was not as hard as the one burned into his dreams, but softer…maybe it was the glow of the night, but her skin was warm, not pale...her eyebrows perfectly arched over those eyes, long dark lashes...her lips were budding, slightly parted…
God, he was obsessed. But he felt delightfully strange, like a shift had happened while they stood there…
There was no doubt, Ira was in there. But she was so...different.
She stared at him in silence too, which comforted him to not feel quite like an idiot...her eyes lingered on his lips as well.
"What...what brings you to The Black Diamond?"
Her question brought him back to the space and time they stood in, and he answered before he could think.
"You."
Her stunning eyes widened slightly.
"I remember...the first night you came," she said slowly.
"Don't worry. I'm no murdera."
She laughed out loud, instantly breaking the ice. "Sounds like something a murderer would say."
He laughed with her, liking the sound, and her guard came down a little more in reply, opening her shoulders to him. He so badly wanted to look at her beautiful body being this close...but he found it easier, much easier than he thought, to look in her eyes.
"We came here the first time for my friend's birthday," he answered smoothly. "We came here tonight because...well, I wanted to."
"Your voice," her eyes squinted slightly. "Your accent...where are you from?"
"Here," he answered simply. "All my life. 's changed a lot though."
"Yeah?" she asked casually. She became less nervous, he could feel it sliding off her...he wondered what she had expected when they stepped out here, if she'd thought about him since last time…
He stopped his thoughts and just looked at her...with all that make-up, she looked like a movie star. He suddenly wanted to see her without it.
He had her attention alright, but her eyes were cautious. A curious gleam was there too, he'd seen that before...he felt a chill go down his spine.
"What about you?" he asked as he raised his glass to his lips.
"California," a breeze blew her hair around her face as she said it, an easy smile appearing.
"Oh, yeah?" That caught him off guard. "You miss it?"
"Like crazy."
He could hear the longing in her voice...low like hers...but soft. Without the Russian accent...it was strange. But he liked the way she talked, the sound of her voice low and soothing. He wondered if she did it on purpose...
He stopped his thoughts again…"I've always wanted ta go West."
"Where to?"
"Santa Fe."
Something passed in her eyes, and he froze for a moment before she smiled and said, "You should some day. It's beautiful."
"Ya been?"
"Oh yeah, all over…" she turned to face the city, the lights casting their glow over her. "It's so different from here, so quiet and big...so many stars at night," she sighed as she looked up, seeing the haze of light dim to black. "I dream about running away from here so many times…but not before I..."
She looked at him and he smiled at her, and they both laughed a little nervously.
"I'm sorry, I forgot where I was for a moment." She turned away, her fingers moving to the stem of her champagne flute. She was blushing again. How funny, he thought, for her...
"That's good," he said gently.
She looked back, meeting his eyes, and smiled.
There was a noise from behind them, and they turned to see someone paddling their hands over the curtain to get outside...it was David.
"We gotta go," David said breathlessly. He looked at Tiffany, swallowed and tilted his head, "Forgive the intrusion...but the guys have been 'hogging' the girls, and the patrons aren't happy about it."
Jack looked back to Tiffany and saw her smiling a little.
"They must like your friends." She seemed to like that, and her eyes washed over him like a waterfall. He couldn't breathe.
But he stayed cool, and smiled a little, "Yeah, they're big talka's."
She followed Jack and David through the velvet curtain, and Jack heard the girls' laughter inside before he saw the scene: Racetrack, Spot, and Mush were sitting in lounge chairs in the middle of the room, and there were four girls with them, sitting with them. Racetrack had them rolling with God knows which story he told, the red-head from earlier was smoking a cigar with Spot, and Mush was deep in conversation with the Scottish Jamacian.
"Oh yeah, they like you guys," Tiffany said from behind Jack. He could barely feel her brush his side.
"Oh boy…" David muttered as he saw the older gentlemen club members speaking with Cage. The doorman stood tall and menacing behind him.
"-an' we ran ta Brooklyn an' back an' tha scumb was none tha wisa," Race said impressively as he took a long drag off his Cuban cigar, finishing a story Jack had heard him tell a thousand times.
The girls fluttered with laughter.
Jack strode over and placed a hand tightly on Race's shoulder.
"Evening, ladies," he said. Their eyes raked over him before glancing over to Tiffany. He couldn't see her face, but he saw the faint smiles her friends gave her. "Forgive us, our ride is here."
"What-!" Racetrack looked up, saw the doormen walking towards them, and dropped his feet from the ottoman he was lounging on. "Whoops, my darlings we must depart."
"Come to our house party this weekend," Mush's girl said quickly.
He stared at her, her hands clamped to his arms, and he smiled in disbelief. "Absolutely, we'd love to."
The red-head blew a cloud of smoke into Spot's face. "See ya later, Spot."
He grinned and watched her walk away, David pulling him towards the door. Mush held his hands up to the Doormen, "we're leaving, we're leaving."
They stood by with their hands behind their backs, watching them from behind black sunglasses.
Jack turned to Tiffany, "see ya lat'a."
"You betta," she said easily, smiling at him with her eyes, playful.
Jack backed away slowly, waiting until the last moment to turn and walk through the closing doors.
