THE SECOND ACT

The spring night was unusually bitter, the sky a velvety black, the stars glittering like cold jewels in the sky. Dark, unworldly shadows filled every crevice, allowing the mind to play tricks on its self. And the after thought of rain hung heavy in the damp air.

The only sound on Calvary Street was the soft clicking of the three boys' weatherworn heels upon the cracked pavement. A zephyr sliced through the air, causing the boys' hands to quickly snap up and grasp the brim of their broken top hats. It blew about them, under them, through them, its frigidness causing them to bow their heads.

All were utterly miserable, and Will Wheaton spoke for the group. "This has to be the most insane thing I have ever done! Rex I could kick you in the ass at this moment!"

Rex Reed bowed his head more, his ears turning the same shade of hellfire red as his hair. "Sorry, Will..."

"No, don't say you're sorry!" Spot Conlon spat, abruptly halting, causing Will to slam into him. This formed a chain reaction as Rex thudded into Will, leaving the boy with a face red with infuriation.

Will brusquely shrugged Rex off him, and turned, his eyes narrowed into slits at Spot. "Oh, so you agree that we should be here? At the intersection of Division and Calvary? In the middle of the night? Spot, I know you may have some ego about being the biggest bad ass in Brooklyn, but I'm sorry tell, but compared to the people that prowl this district you are nothing more than...than...than a little baby duckling!"

Rex immediately emitted a noise, before he clasped his hands over his mouth to stifle his laughter. Spot's eyes narrowed and his cheeks became highlighted with chartreuse. "Ya know, Will, I have had it up to HERE with you and your goddamn remarks. You didn't have to come. You could have stayed back at the lodgin' house shiverin' in your loins like some little pansy in ecstasy over what the After Dark Cabaret has in it. You can turn around and right the hell back if you want to. But if you are goin' to come, then shut your damned mouth!"

Will stepped back, his features wide with a flourish of fluster. "I'm just saying," he hissed in a low voice. "That this area is dangerous. And we come here with this notion in our heads and it might not even be right. I mean, that's where Division and Calvary meet. And look what it is! A big goddamn pile of bricks!"

All three averted their gazes skyward to peer at the antediluvian building coated in timeworn bricks. The hovel did not look the least bit spectacular, nonetheless housing for the most glorious cabaret in all of New York.

Spot released a weary sigh and fell back on his heels. Will's incredulous ways were starting to get to him. How could such a resplendent place exist and yet the exact location of it never have been established? Rex, good old Rex, he was a kidder. He relished in a superb ruse now and again. Perhaps this was just another one of his elaborate wiles to dupe he and Will. Yet, it just couldn't be. The myth of the After Dark Cabaret was just too much a solemn matter between them. And, besides, not even Rex Reed would have gone to all the trouble they did that late afternoon to prepare for their nighttime excursion.

When Spot had told that they were trekking to Division and Calvary that night, Rex had bounded about the bunkroom whooping and hollering and shushing Will and Spot that they were not to tell any of the other newsies for their want to join the group. He had also claimed that it was only the "rich suits" that were granted admittance to the After Dark, and that all three would of course have to don proper attire to gain entrance. How Rex had concocted these notions was beyond Spot, he guessed that it was just a flight of fancy. And it was Rex who had no trials whatsoever to distract the owner of the tuxedo joint down on Canavaghn while Spot and Will both quietly slunk through the back door on pins and needles and purloined three of the best suits-double breasted and dark as the feathers of a raven.

And now here they stood, in a single file, staring up at the weary building, Spot's hopes fading with every passing moment.

"Well," it was Rex's voices that brought them back to reality as Will and Spot slowly dropped their gazes to him. His nose and ears and cheeks were comically red and his tufts of thick fire red hair were. He was rubbing his hands vigorously together. "Hell, I could have got my ass sent to the House of Refuge while you'se two was hawkin' these suits. So I sure as hell ain't jist gonna stand here while all our dreams could be waitin' inside this buildin' here. So--"

"Shhh!" Will's biting hiss cut Rex off, the latter glared indignantly at the former, his face twisting in anger.

"Hey!" he protested, yet Will turned his agitated gaze towards Rex, grasping the crown of his top hat, harshly jerking his head towards the left, so Rex could espy the man in the billowing cape and top hat, head bent and cane in hand, making his way down Division in their direction.

Spot elicited an audible gasp and froze as though crystal water had been induced into his veins, suddenly hardening to a smooth glass.

A sudden wind howled, not disturbing the boys who stood like mannequins, watching the unsuspecting man as he hurried, head bent down Division, suddenly turning onto Calvary, disappearing around the edge of the edifice.

Spot slowly turned over his shoulder, Will and Rex's wide eyes falling to his, Will's grasp still on Rex's top hat. Will suddenly snapped his head, causing his hat to fall to the cement, the wind blowing his shock of blonde hair about.

As though being released from a state of suspended animation, the three boys sprung to life, quickly dashing to the edge of the building and quietly peering around it. The man was halted at the side. They watched as though in a state of orgasmic anxiety as the man looked left, then right.

They quickly brought their heads back, falling against the damp, slick with slime bricks, their chests heaving.

"D'ya think he saw?" Rex inquired breathlessly.

Will was poised to answer, when Spot pushed away from the wall and peered around the corner once more. The man was now tapping his cane against the bricks. Three times. He could feel that Will and Rex had joined him by their breathless inhalations and hot breath.

Then, suddenly, the man disappeared.

All three exchanged bright-eyes glances, their cheeks stained red from the cold and their ambitions high. No words were needed to express what they felt.

Spot coolly cracked his neck, lowering the brim of his top hat over his brow, running his finger about the brim, his gloved palm clutching the hilt of his gleaming cane for reinforcement. With a flutter of material, he snapped his cloak and rounded the corner, his shoes tapping against the sidewalk. His insides were churning about, and he had to will himself not to dash onto the road and spill his guts on the cold stone. Yet, he held his head high, his eyes vigilant, the rhythmic tapping of the cane filling his brain.

There was nothing indifferent to the moldy bricks until about a third of the way down. There, cut into the wall, was a rectangle harboring two doors, splinters rupturing the surface of the chipping burgundy paint. Spot quickly snapped his head around. Will stood behind him, his pale blue eyes bright, and Rex behind him, studying the doors with his wild hazel eyes as though in a daze.

Will released an uneasy sigh, his breath coming out in a transparent frost. Spot slowly turned around and raised the tip of his cane to the door. He stood, not knowing what to do for want of knowledge of the consequences. The tornado ripping up his entrails was not aiding one bit on the decision of tapping the door.

It was when Rex quietly said, "Do it," that Spot inhaled an icy breath and brought his cane against the door. Once. The noise seemed to reverberate through his cranium tenfold. Twice. He could hear his heart beat rise. Thrice.

He stepped back in a gasp, falling into Will, not knowing what was to make an appearance at the doorway.

He was held in the bonds of absolute anxiety, Will's claws gripping his shoulders, when he heard the doors begin to creak open.

Rex emitted a noise.

The doors were opened, revealing a cavity of utter darkness. Spot raised a brow in sheer wonderment, and leaned forward, feeling Will to the same. And in the next moment, it was if some invisible force had latched onto them, for all three cried out as they were pulled into the doors against their wills. They collapsed into each other, breathing heavy, shrouded in total darkness, the sound of the doors slamming behind them.

"S-spot. W-ill," Rex whimpered in the darkness.

Alas, the cold darkness of the outside world ceased to exist in this hallway. It was as though it was a parallel universe. Spot had not an iota of reason what was going to occur, yet he felt as though the dark air was drenched with colors, saturated in a sweet fever. His senses perked and he felt an unbridled spurt of lust surge throughout his body. He gripped his cane with a clammy hand, breathless and cold and hot, feeling Will's grasp clutch onto his cloak.

And he walked forward, a dreamy passion intoxicating his mind. He suddenly halted, as he crashed into solid. Groping in the sweet darkness, Spot found the knob that belonged to the door. His had was shaking so terribly with anticipation that it was when Will released a moan of sultry impatience that his hand finally grasped the smooth handle and he tightly grasped it, flinging the door open. At first, Spot Conlon did not realize what had struck him. It was a dreamy haze that did not seem believable. Yet he stood there in the door, soaking everything in, that his brain reluctantly caved and his senses were sharpened and lust overpowered him, causing chills and a cold sweat to overtake him.

He then realized that all the stories were correct. The After Dark, the Après Foncé, was authentic, oh, so vaingloriously authentic. Yet all those stories and tales could have never, ever done the cabaret justice. It was like some alluring Xanadu that one could only imagine in their wildest dreams.

He stood there in utter shock. The colors of the rainbow spectrum danced about the room. They played on the girl's dresses as they twirled about, singing, dancing, screeching, contorting and twisting and baring their flesh.

He may have remained there for eternity if it hadn't been the rather impatient patron that gave Rex a great shove, sending Spot flying into the surreal universe. The harried man brusquely shoved passed the three, a smile playing on his lips as soon as he entered. A beautiful exotic creature in a turquoise dress and flowing auburn hair rapidly approached him, shaking him out of his cloak and pulling him onto the floor.

Spot shakily rose from his haunches, the music seeping into his brain and the violent hues blinding him and the girls making him dizzy. Suddenly, Will slid past him, a devilish smirk upon his face. He adjusted his top hat and rid himself of his cloak. Rex silently joined Spot's side as they watched Will. His eyes danced about the room and he coolly adjusted his remarkable tuxedo. He immediately fell into possession of a gorgeous girl with wild raven hair, who wrapped her leg about him and dashed his hat to the floor, running her hands through his bright yellow hair. He threw his head back in rapture, savoring the combing. He cast a sharp eye to Spot and Rex before he disappeared into the sea of colors and dark suits.

Spot slowly turned his gaze to Rex, who returned it with wide eyes. His freckles were stark against his pale skin. "It's true. I can't believe it's true."

Spot absentmindedly nodded in agreement. "Come on, Rex," he whispered, grabbing Rex's wrist and pulling him out of the doorway, only to be bombarded by a swarm of girls. The scent of their wild hair overpowered his senses and the perspiration dripping off their voluptuous bodies transferred to Spot's cheeks. He closed his eyes and willed himself to control his levels of passion.

Suddenly, the music halted. Spot allowed his eyes to flutter open. His gaze fell to a short stocky man on atop the glossy, hardwood stage. He was clothed in an electric blue suit with great brass fasteners. His hair was a pale shade of blonde and his cheeks rosy under his handlebar moustache.

Rex elicited a gasp. Spot allowed his gaze to flicker to Rex. "What?" he hissed, not comprehending the look of sheer amazement on the other newsie's face.

Rex blinked his large eyes, falling out of his stupor. "It's Pheorepe. Henry Pheorepe. Remember the stories? These are his girls--all HIS girls."

Spot cocked a brow and stared at the man. He commanded a silence over the room. "The Can Can," he whispered.

At his words, the girls suddenly left the patrons and filed to the middle of the floor. Spot quickly espied Will across the room in the blur of colorful lights, his hair sticking up at all ends, blood red lipstick speared all about his face, and his expression that of impossible lust and confusion.

And in a breath, the music erupted once more. It was a hazy, delicious dream as Spot watched in an orgasmic state of euphoria, as the girls twirled about, lifting their skirts above their heads, revealing their multicolored garters, their hair tossing liberally about, their legs kicking and puncturing the salty air.

And swiftly the music was once again murdered. Alas, this time a cold passion seemed to slither throughout the sweaty atmosphere as the cabaret darkened and a silvery, glittery light began to radiate from the stage. Dazzling, metallic confetti permeated the air and then the music regained its life, this time playing slow, agonizingly slow. The velvet curtains rustled, and the curvaceous leg strapped into the stardust stiletto appeared. And her excruciatingly sensual voice pierced the air, and Spot had to clutch onto Rex's shoulder to keep falling over from a rush of lust.

"Satin sheets are very romantic.but what happens when you're not in bed?"