Chapter Three
"Lost in wonder staring at you, I bumped my head on the moon & fell, hard." —Curtis Tyrone Jones
Tramp tugged at his unyielding collar. "Damn monkey suit." He gripped under his breath. The car bumped along as street lamps blurred by like comet tails in the dark night. His long arms pressed up against the other two boys crammed into the back seat with him and gave Tramp very little room to move. "C'mon man how many times you gotta do that with your fricking suit huh? Give it a rest." Slim complained.
"Hey, I didn't ask to be stuck in this thing."
"We're all in the same boat, so stop being a daisy about it." Miles added.
Buster, who sat in the passenger's seat, chuckled. "Keep it down, kiddies."
Tramp shoved his knee into the back of Buster's seat, which made the other boys protest again. "Close your head, it's your fault I'm going to this stupid shindig anyway."
"Complain all you want but you're the one who got in the car now aren't you?" Busted snorted.
"Only cause you were short of blackmailing me if I didn't."
"Yeah, yeah think what you want, Trampo. You said you'd help me and I'm holding you to it."
"I'm not a part of you guys and your business anyhow." Tramp grumbled.
"It's not our problem you're stubborn, and don't want to get involved. I told you, we need a lookout. And how often do you get to peep rich ass skirts, huh? That's right, never."
Tramp resigned back into his place between Miles and Slim's shoulders, knowing full well it was pointless to argue. He looked down at his feet that occupied a pair of glossy black wingtips against the car floor. Who the hell do we think we're fooling anyhow? They weren't high class or wealthy. Most of them had barely managed to bathe, and their clothes were borrowed. Where Kisro had gotten five suits was beyond him, and all the circumstances he thought of weren't good ones. The car viciously jostled over a bump, jarring Tramp and other boys in their seats.
"Would help if you could drive for shit, Rus." Miles said to the boy in the driver's seat.
"You wanna come up here and drive?" Russell said, turning around and raising his first. "I've got a knuckle sandwich waiting for you."
"Watch it, man!" Slim exclaimed, as the car abruptly swerved thanks to Russell's lack of attention. He quickly manhandled the wheel and got back on course, forcing them all to spill to the side as he adjusted. Miles cussed under his breath and he pushed Tramp off him. "See I told you he shouldn't drive." He complained up to Buster.
"Quit being a bluenose, we're almost there." Buster huffed. Mayor Swanson's house came up on their right and Russell slowed down. They all went quiet at the grand sight before them. The house was more like a palace, tall, extravagant and alive. Tramp had scouted it out earlier in the day but now it was a wholly different sight. Cars and guests thronged in its circular driveway in a flurry of headlights and fine clothes underneath the indigo night sky.
"Thanks for scoping the area out for us, Trampo." Buster said as he stared.
Tramp scoffed. "Like you needed my help, it's only the gaudiest house on the block." They continued down the street, past an impressive line of cars, until they reached an empty space to park some ten feet away. The car slammed to a halt and Tramp grit his teeth in annoyance as his head jerked forward. Once the vehicle was off, Slim and Miles flung opened the doors and jumped out as quick as they could. Tramp climbed out after them and stood up, stretching his arms and legs. Russell and Buster didn't get out right away and Tramp could see them quietly talking to each other. Ignoring them he looked at the other cars on the street and marveled at their flawless conditions. "Geez, the way they flaunt it you'd think they invented money." Tramp joked.
Miles, an Irish, brown haired stick of a boy walked up to the Rolls Royce behind them and spat on it's tires. "Good for nothings could pay my rent three times over, yet they got these fancy crates like it's the easiest thing in the world."
Slim leaned over and eyed his reflection on the vehicle's shiny black paint job. "This is just stupid shiny. What the hell?"
Tramp smirked with amusement. "You boys never seen a crate like this?"
"Well yeah, but never up close." Slim replied. He was a chubby blonde with sallow skin, the youngest of them all, and probably the most out of place. The front doors of the car slammed shut as the other two boys got out, seemingly done with their private chat. "Alright, you mugs." Buster said, rubbing his hands together as they walked over. "This is a job we're doing personally for Lynch so best behavior, capisce? Miles, Slim you two know what to do, no talking once we're in there with the big man. Trampo, you got look out while we work."
"Yeah, yeah." Tramp said as he lit a cigarette. His sharp eyes noticed the brown leather suitcase in Russell's hand. Tramp looked at him and, like usual, came to the conclusion he didn't care for him that much. He was Buster's wingman, a brutish redhead whose intellect lay solely in his fists. Washing his hands of any curiosity, Tramp put his lighter back in his pocket and joined the group as they made their way up the sidewalk.
"This oughta be interesting." He said as they reached the drive. "You boys sure picked a crazy crew to run with."
"Can it." Buster hissed. "People ain't supposed to know what's going on, and we gotta keep it that way."
The mansion was white like alabaster with a sharp, angular slate roof. Rows of windows glowed with golden light from within and a grandiose balcony framed the upper levels. Perfectly trimmed hedge bushes lined the front of the house, and a tall fountain occupied the circular cobblestone drive. "Sure makes an impression." Miles muttered beside Tramp.
"No kidding." He said with a huff, as smoke spilled from his lips.
They reached the entryway of the house with guests surrounding them in jet black suits and jewelry like starlight. In the foyer they were met with an imperial staircase, made of fine polished walnut with curving banisters like brushstrokes. The ceiling was high vaulted and garnished with an obscenely large chandelier. Waiters in white coats weaved through the crowded chaos, carrying silver trays of refreshments above their shoulders amid the mix of smoke and music.
"All this for some poor, helpless orphans huh? They shouldn't have." Tramp leaned over and commented. Miles and Slim chortled at his words, but Buster shot him a warning look. Tramp lazily rolled his eyes. "Hey, I'm just following your lead."
"You wanted to bring him, why?" Russell growled, with a sideways look at him over Buster's shoulder.
"Because he's got sharp instincts and a good eye and I figured he'd be good to have along." Buster impatiently snapped at him. "Now all of you, shut it. We gotta find the conference room before nine."
Buster pulled someone over and asked for the conference room's whereabouts. They followed his lead as he thanked the man he'd questioned and headed up the staircase. Tramp ran his hand across the satin smooth bannister as he climbed, surprised but equally annoyed at how opulent their mayor lived. They turned left onto an ornate carpeted hallway, and the music faded. A handful of rooms lay before them, all shut tight and silent as graves. "Alright, we're in the last door at the left." Buster said in a low voice. "Trampo, do your thing."
Tramp nodded, already feeling bored. He watched them walk down and knock on the door, and once it opened they slipped in one by one. Russell was the last to vanish and Tramp caught one last look at the suitcase he carried before the door clicked shut. Tramp folded his arms and leaned against the wall. He finished his cigarette with a final puff, dropping the butt onto the paisley carpet. He pressed it down with his shoe and smiled at the small burn mark it left. Making this place a little less beautiful made him happy in some petty kind of way. He owned nothing, felt like nothing in this mansion, but that little burn mark felt like his.
Tramp allowed himself one tug at his collar, and a hand through his slicked back hair. He felt leashed like a dog in this get up. He looked down the hall wistfully and heard the music get a little faster than before. As he listened, leaves blowing in the wind came into his mind and he let out a whisper of a chuckle. The pretty redhead. She had been so shy and embarrassed but a wonder to look at. If all rich girls looked like that, then I'm missing out. Wonder if she's here? He thought as he pressed his head against the wall. Wouldn't that be something?
Tramp slowly forgot about her as his boredom grew. He tapped his foot against the carpet, watching light bounce on his shoes. No sound came from the room. Time passed and Tramp started feeling fidgety. He looked down at his brown leather watch. Nine thirty. I've only been standing here for a half hour? He grumbled with frustration and the music downstairs transformed into a song Tramp knew well. Rather suddenly his patience snapped.
"Screw it." Tramp said, heading down the hallway. Buster would probably chew him out later but he didn't care. He walked down the staircase to the first floor and stood aimlessly, looking for some sign of where to go. He noticed some traffic going into the large hallway on the right hand side of the staircase, and decided to follow. The hardwood floor was dark as blood in the dim light the hallway offered, and Tramp's shoes smartly clicked against it. They reached the end of the hall and went through a tall arched doorway, which cast a golden beam across the floor like a searchlight. Tramp entered the room, and paused as the current of the crowd flowed around him. It was a ballroom, the first one he had ever seen, and it was stunning.
It was a lavish rotunda, with white walls and two golden chandeliers dripping with sparkling crystals. Crown molding intricate as Greek architecture lined the ceiling, which was domed and lofty above Tramp's head. Five arched french doors encapsulated the entire space with gold sconces in between each one, their lights shimmering on the dark reflections of the windows. Tramp swiveled his head around to take it all in, and noticed a jazz band playing on a raised platform at the front of the room.
The rest of the floor was occupied by young people around his age, and they were, all of them, dancing. In all the ways Tramp had seen, and done a hundred times over. He stood in the doorway with open curiosity. What a crazy surprise, the rich kids can get down just like the poor ones too. He thought. Tramp watched them for several minutes, but after a while he decided he might as well join in on the fun. It would be waste not to take advantage of this borrowed suit. He waited until he saw an opening and jumped into the fray.
The next half hour Tramp danced. He danced the Charleston, managing to work his way into a group of giggling girls. They happily danced with him and once the song was finished, Tramp needed a breather. He headed towards the wall on the outskirts of the dance floor, which was more relaxed and clustered with conversation. Once he caught his breath, he briefly thought about Buster and the boys, but didn't feel inclined to go check on them; all he would see was a dull, quiet hallway.
The music transitioned into a slow melody and couples began dancing the foxtrot. Tramp sighed and stayed where he was. He didn't care for slow songs. He watched them, sparkling dresses and the tails of suit jackets blurring into one as they spun, and he grew dizzy as he tried to follow their body movements. The spaces between them fluctuated, when suddenly a burst of auburn caught his eye. Tramp did a double take. Wait, was that...? He craned his neck and pivoted around the crowd. He was teased with small glimpses through the swirls of dancers, but in a flash it was gone. Tramp ignored the disapproving looks and mumbled complaints as he pushed through the throng. The music swelled gracefully, and then, he saw her. The redhead, as though conjured from his very thoughts.
Tramp came to a stop and simply stared."Speak of the devil." He grinned. How do you like that? She was here after all.
The crowd pulsed clumsily around her, thick and thoughtless under the golden light of the chandeliers. But she, somehow, did not. The space she occupied was delicate but serene with a certain touch Tramp couldn't explain if he tried. More dancers spun into the space between them and momentarily blocked his view of her. When they floated away her hair blazed into him, indulgent and luxurious curls the color of spiced paprika. The blonde beside her suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the floor, the couples' dance now over.
As she tried to refuse her friend, she laughed and Tramp was captivated. She was like a small burst of heaven with her eyes large and crystalline like the surface of a lake, and a snow bright smile across her lips. The soft features of her face, smooth cheeks and button nose were peppered with freckles, which trailed down the subtle contours of her neck and shoulders as if she'd been sprinkled with fairy dust. That's what she was; luxury, spice, and magic.
There was just something about her, the innocence, the aura, and the lucid eyes that had drawn him to her ever since they'd met on the street. Tramp was speechless. But only for a moment. He could never keep his mouth shut for long, especially when it came to women. He adjusted his tie and snapped his cuffs up his wrists. Tramp just needed to wait for the right moment. This party just got a whole lot more interesting.
"Lady, over here!"
Lady turned and looked out across the ballroom, her eyes grazing over the heads in the crowd. They landed on a young woman who waved to get her attention across the floor. Lady grinned. It was her best friend Ida and behind her stood the massive figure of Elias, Lady's other childhood friend, who lived two doors down from her. When they reached each other Ida embraced her warmly. They pulled apart and she looked Lady over critically. "How are you? Are you surviving? What took you so long to get here?"
Lady laughed. "I'm alright, honestly, I told you you don't have to worry. Auntie took a long time to get ready and then she insisted on helping me too."
"That woman." Ida shuddered. "I hope your parents come home early for your sake."
"I told you not to ask her too many questions." Elias rumbled. Lady smiled and turned to him with a wave. "Hello, Elias."
"Lady." Elias acknowledged, in his usual solemn manner. "Glad you could make it."
"I am too. You know admittedly, I was dreading this but now that Sarah and I did what we needed to I can take it easy."
"What did you have to do?" Ida asked curiously.
"We needed to give my Father's donation and talk with some of his partners and friends." Lady replied.
"They had you do their work, and they're going to miss your birthday?"
"Ida." Elias warned.
"What? I just think it stinks they won't be here. She's only going to turn eighteen once." Ida said, splaying her hands in front of her helplessly.
"If her parents have business, then they need to see to it. I see nothing wrong with that." Elias replied.
"It doesn't bother me that much." Lady lied quickly. "They swore they'd make up for it when they got back, and that's good enough for me."
Ida and Elias eyed each other. "You sure?"
Lady nodded, wanting to get off the subject. "Yeah, it's fine. I don't need them here all the time."
Ida watched her, clearly sensing it was a sensitive topic, and kindly patted her shoulder. "Alright, well since you're done with everything you might as well enjoy yourself. Elias, you see that waiter you were talking about?"
He pushed up his round spectacles, nodded and motioned him over. The waiter then saw him and promptly weaved through the crowd to where they stood. Greeting them politely he offered his tray, the metal disk perfectly balanced between his fingers. Lady lit up with happiness. It was a platter of lemon tarts, with sprigs of rosemary in their bright centers. Lady absolutely loved lemon. Whether it be lemon desserts, lemons candy, or even lemonade, she adored the sour fruit no matter what form it took. She still didn't know why.
"So you know, it was Elias who spotted it for you." Ida commented with a sly smile, as she and Lady each took a tart. Elias eyed her with mild annoyance and cleared his throat.
"How sweet. Thank you, Eli." Lady beamed at him.
Elias nodded and his eyes lingered on her face for a drawn out moment, his gaze intent and his lips pressed together. It was a new habit he seemed to have developed lately, and Lady grew confused everytime it happened. Is there something wrong with my face all of a sudden? She pondered, trying to ignore the sticky feel of lipstick on her lips.
"Your dress is the bee's knees, by the way." Ida said, breaking their awkward exchange. "Pruny Sarah honestly ordered that? Wonders never cease."
"She orders me one every year and they're always so pretty. I'd find it strange, but I'm not going to complain about a perfect dress." She said, proceeding to eat her tart in two dainty bites. It was sweet and sharp against her tongue, and everything she loved.
Ida gently bumped Elias with her elbow. "Don't you think she looks pretty?"
He paused and adjusted his bowtie. "Yes." He replied stiffly, his eyes downcast. "It suits her well."
Lady didn't have time to wonder about Elias' strange reaction, for abruptly Ida said: "Hey, you two want to dance?" Elias looked down at her impassively under his glasses, and Lady almost choked on her last bit of dessert. He was not the dancing type by a long shot. Neither was she, but that was beyond the point. "Sorry Ida, but I think you're alone on that one, as usual." Lady said in response, stifling her laughter.
Ida did a small twirl, her feet tapping against the wood floor."You guys really are missing out, feet were meant for dancing!" Her gold dress shimmered like the sun as she moved, a sleeveless, glitter encrusted gown with a large bow tied at the front and a sheer, tassel hem to her knees.
"I highly doubt that is the purpose of feet." Elias declared.
"Well you'll never know until you try, big oaf." Ida replied, shaking her shoulders as the tempo picked up. Lady watched her affectionately, and shrugged up at Elias. "She's a lost cause."
"Clearly."
"I'm telling you, if you just tried you might be surprised." Ida insisted, her blonde curls bouncing under her pearl skull cap. "Come on, all it takes is one perfect song and then you're free." She grabbed Lady's hand and spun her around, pulling her towards the dance floor.
"Stop, Ida!" Lady laughed. "It's not going to happen."
"I'm not taking no for an answer, I might not be able to get Elias to, but you will dance." She said teasingly, walking backward to pull Lady through the crowd with a comical smile. Lady couldn't bear to say no to her. Her happiness was contagious, bright and buoyant as bubbles in the air.
Lady was dragged into the bouncing bodies but she didn't have a clue what she was doing. Ida released her and put arms in the air, her eyes closed with joy. Lady moved aimlessly, suddenly feeling very self conscious. The music was fast, jazzy and a bit zany. Arms flew madly and feet kicked up, skirts sighing against the sound of tapping dance shoes. Lady turned to Ida, but it was too late. The blonde had become so invested in her fancy footwork, she'd found a partner and danced away. Lady saw her grin like a sunburst and then she was gone.
Lady instantly deflated without her. She quickly stopped moving in any festive way and sidestepped off the floor. Lady didn't stop walking until she reached the wall, the farthest away she could get. Very few people gathered around the area, and it was blessedly still and tame. She let out a relieved breath. Once she'd recovered Lady searched for Elias, who they'd abandoned so abruptly. It wasn't hard, as he was always the tallest in the room. He hadn't struggled without them at all by the looks of it, for he'd found some of the other scholarly, college boys to talk to. Elias was bound for a college in Canada in a months time; to learn business so he could take over for his father, who owned a large auto manufacturing company. Knowing she wouldn't understand what they spoke of, Lady decided she would let him talk alone.
Now that she was alone, the crowd fluctuating before her, Lady all at once felt like an outsider. Her lonely, rainy reflection came back to her briefly but she stubbornly shoved it out of her mind. You're fine. You told your friends you were, so act like it. Despite her self talk, Lady's hand went to her neck and touched the necklace that hung there. It was an early birthday present from her parents, a surprise they had given her before they'd left. She traced the gold plated chains down to the turquoise glass drop that brushed against her chest. Lady rubbed it's intricate flower engraving between her fingers and bit her lip. In truth she missed her parents dearly. It just wasn't the same without them here beside her. Please, come home already. The stinging prickle of tears began to creep into the corners of her eyes.
"Well I'll be damned, fancy meeting you here." Came a voice beside her, interrupting her thoughts. Lady swiftly dropped her hand from the necklace and turned to her left. A tall, lanky boy stood there and, like before, her eyes fell on his charming twist of mouth.
"Hiya, Pigeon." He smirked.