I'm feeling really insecure about this story, guys. Please review it andjust tell me if it's okay or not. I'm trying to make it interesting but right now is just lots of transition scenes and detail and things like that. I swear better things are to come. That said, enjoy the chapter.

New York City's late night scene is something you'll only understand if you are standing in it's glory. Lights flash and cars pass, horns honking, music blasting, everyone beating their dust hearts and looking for an escape. I watch Farkle and Riley as they grasp each other's hands and stare in the streetlight's gentle glow, the feeling in the air is similar to that of an electric thunderbolt.

"This is it. Right here on the left." Farkle says over the bustling city's clamor, pointing to a building connected to many others on a long strip of businesses. A neon sign glows and blinks, pulsating as music plays an upbeat melody. It reads in curling letters, 'Meg's' -and the word is upheld in a glowing, flame-shaped wire. "How fitting." I hear Riley say as she examines the sign, furrowing her eyebrows a bit at it's bright intensity. Leading the way now, Farkle holds open a door with tinted glass, as if the contents of this club are to remain secret. Taking several steps inside, we are immediately met by a bouncer, a large bearded man that has a tired expression.

"I'm need to see all of your IDs."

Riley smiles cheerfully and reaches into her small, pearl-covered wristlet. Pulling out her driver's license, she hands it to the man and he ties a red band onto her wrist. I do the same, and he gives me a red wristband too. Farkle however, for reasons unknown, is given a green band. Knowing not to act confused in front of the man that could easily kick me out, we hurry along into the main auditorium. Pulling Farkle aside, I question him.

"Farkle! You're nineteen. Why do you have a green band? Those are only for people who can legally drink-"

"We all plan on doing drinking tonight anyways, don't we?"

I purse my lips and glance at Riley, as she stands a few feet away and mindlessly smiles at every person in near vicinity.

"Yeah." I reply quickly and quietly.

"So why not use my fortunate finances to create myself an extremely convincing fake ID?" Farkle smiles and holds up his ID, to which I see states that he is over twenty-one.

"You lucky bastard." I chuckle, shoving his shoulder a bit and shaking my head.

"Drastic times call for drastic measures." He says as he approaches Riley, placing a hand on the small of her back and leading the two of us to a high-topped table in the center of the performance hall. Tables scattered throughout the entire gathering area, people begin trickling in and taking their seats. Riley types something on her phone and joyfully takes a selfie, but Farkle warns her not to post it anywhere public.

"We don't want Josh to know that we are here." He pauses and looks around. "Lucas, you and I ought to find a way to the back soon, that's probably where we'll find Josh."

"What exactly are we looking for?"

"We are looking to see if he steals anything, and if so, what he steals."

Riley leans forwards and takes Farkle's hand as it rests on the table. "How is that going to help us though?"

"It's not going to help us." I say flatly. "It's going to help Maya. If he didn't start the fire, it will give her peace of mind. And if he did, then she can finally be free from that son of a-"

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Welcome to Meg's performance hall and dinner theater!"

I avert my eyes to the stage, stopping my foul language before it can escape my mouth. A stocky woman dressed in a sparkling gown stands on stage, holding a microphone to her lips and waiting for the crowd to quiet down. Once everyone takes notice that the show is starting, a chorus of "shhh!" sweeps it's way and does it's deed.

"I'd like to introduce to you tonight, a new breed of performance art. Tying in every sense, music! Dance! Light! Fire!" The woman says in a deep, rich voice, and the crowd applauds as she then exits the stage. The opening act then runs to center stage, holding colored scarves and wearing neon leg-warmers. Seeing this odd performance as a perfect distraction, Farkle and I then slowly rise from our seats. Nodding with understanding, Riley stays at the table and pays attention to the dancers now prancing across the stage.

Walking far too easily into the backstage area, Farkle and I keep our noses low and our eyes peeled. Performers stand impatiently in their glossy costumes and show makeup, some of the women giving me devious amount of eye-contact. Keeping my hands at my sides, I lead the way and hope that Farkle isn't far behind me. Spotting a doorway with the label "Pyrotechnical detail" plastered on it's surface, I look behind my back and see Farkle's subtle head nod. Turning to the right, we stand behind a large set of prop stairs. Making myself comfortable, I sit inside it's dark, cramped cavern. Farkle kneels beside me and peeks out from the cracks of the wood boards, keeping his attention on whatever and whoever enters that door.

"How long have we been sitting here?" I ask, annoyance being all too recognizable in my tone of voice. Farkle doesn't reply, instead I feel him tense up and grab my shoulder. Immediately taking this as cue to join him in watching the door, I wordlessly watch through the cracks and see exactly what I have been anticipating. Josh approaches the door and pulls out a ring of keys, looking around himself cautiously before entering the room and shutting the door.

"The show ended fifteen minutes ago. I checked my watch." Farkle mutters, still watching closely. "I knew it! I knew it was him!" I exclaim, not bothering to keep my voice down. Earning a jab in the side, Farkle hushes me. "We still have to see if he takes anything. Right now he's just in there."

Minutes pass, and finally after a fair amount of stressful exhales of air, we see Josh open the door slowly and stick his out only his head. Seeing that the coast is clear, he steps out into the hallway and locks the door with his right hand. And in his left, he holds a handful of small, extremely familiar devices. Pursing my mouth shut and steadying my breathing, I swallow hard and assure myself of what I'm seeing.

"Those are the..." Farkle begins, stopping when Josh tilts his head as if to hear something faint. "Those are the fire-starting devices..." He then finishes his sentence as Josh walks away, dissapearing into a distant hallway. Feeling parts of myself being let down, I almost wished for him to be innocent.

"Let's get out of here." I say in a normal volume, struggling to stand up as I pull myself out from inside the prop. Farkle nearly looses balance as we hurriedly rush to the exit, passing the remaining amount of performers and audience that still remain in the lobby. Pushing through a crowd of people that fight to get out onto the busy streets, Farkle and I see Riley waiting on a small bench outside. Spotting us, she stands up and readies herself to leave the premise. Just then however, Josh approaches her from behind and greets her with a warm smile.