High C

Prologue - Bon Voyage

Despite being generally a pushover, Crystal had a temper like a bouncing ball of mercury. Jonas knew the real danger was when she got quiet.

In full sulk, she nonchalantly tried to perk up the break-away angel wings of her first costume as the halo she wore on her head tipped forward to cover her already irritated blinkers. She tsked loudly and forced it back into position. It was Jonas' idea that the opening's dress should look like a Christmas tree with Crystal herself the angelic topper. She really did look like an angel too; like a cherub on a candy box. It almost made him feel bad for disappointing her as often as he did, but how was any of it his fault? She was too thoughtful, too sensitive, too unwilling to let him be as selfish as he felt their careers needed him to be.

"I really thought we were gonna go places," she said then, sighing wistfully. "We were doing so well. Booking the big halls, getting top billing, and finally with room on the posters for my name too."

Jonas still wasn't sure how he felt about it, but printers weren't cheap.

She stood and presented herself for his inspection, still pouting as he circled her, double checking that the hooks and ties meant to release one outfit from another were in place for the act. "I got recognized in taxi cab the other day. Did I tell you that?"

"Repeatedly," Jonas said, patting her shoulders in approval.

Her drawn on brows knit together.

"Two months ago we were a prize in a raffle. Now look at us. Back where we started. I should've known you couldn't stay straight. I should've known London was too good to be true when you booked us back in this dump. But I trusted you. So maybe I am stupid."

The twinge of regret in his heart reminded him he still needed to change his jacket. He felt terrible, as most gambling addicts who lose do, especially when they lose to people who don't really need the money. "There, there," he said," squeezing her arms gently to soothe her. "I'm the stupid one. Imagine shooting dice behind a Mercedes Roadster and crapping out on a twelve to the guy who owns it."

Crystal shoved him away immediately. "Yeah well I wish he'd been shooting something else!"

"Darling, I'm sorry," he said exhaustedly. "I wanted to surprise you and get us first class tickets."

A half-hearted "Baloney," was all she could muster.

It wasn't a lie. He stood no chance against sea-sickness. At least in first class he'd throw up better food.

"I did!" he insisted. "Remember how you said you wanted to find yourself a rich duke and settle down? I thought I might up your chances. Even though the stage means everything to me, like you do, I'd be willing to lose you if it meant your happiness."

"Sure," she said, anger waning to disappointment again.

"I would," he said defensively, if not convincingly. "Don't you believe me?"

"Do I believe you want me to find a rich man? Of course I do. I can see your sharks and your bookies now, crying at the wedding."

Jonas had to laugh. "Why you little - "

"Don't you 'you little' me, you," she warned him.

But he knew how she hated being angry with him, so much so he could guilt her with it. He could always lure her forgiveness by adding a drop of wounded aloofness to his Dapper Dan charm. By the time he was done he would make her think the whole thing was her idea. It was half the reason their partnership worked.

"Am I perfect?" he asked. "No. But we've got a month's worth of contracts in London thanks to me. Have you ever been to Europe? No, you haven't. Doubtful you'd ever have gotten out of the state if I hadn't come along, never mind the country. And you want to give it all up because you stubbornly refuse to spend a measly twenty minutes in a wardrobe trunk? Well, we're a team, so what can I do? We'll call it allllll off."