Mad as Jazzmen |1930s Ryden AU| ✔️

-6-

Brendon was beyond perplexed by then.  Ryan seemed like such a caring, normal person.  Surely Dallon was just lying, trying to keep Brendon away from having fun in the city.  Dallon was just a grumpy person.  He was definitely lying.  There was no way Ryan was riffraff.  He wanted Brendon to help him revamp The Spotted Cat.  How was that considered dragging people down with his own issues?  Dallon was full of it.  He didn't know what he was talking about.

At least, that was what Brendon told himself over and over again as he bid farewell to Dallon and sauntered back to The Spotted Cat for his second day on the job.

*  *  *  *  *

Spencer looked more than delighted to see Brendon as he walked through the front door, the jingling of the bell signaling his arrival.  The Spotted Cat was still eerily empty and isolated, but that didn't stop a smile from reaching Spencer's face.

"Good to see ya again, Brendon!"  he greeted cheerfully from behind the bar counter.  "Hope you're ready for another day.  I think I heard Ryan talkin' about teachin' you to play one of his instruments today.  He sure seemed excited, too."

"Really?  He mentioned that yesterday, just for a moment."  Brendon glanced around the room, but it was only occupied by Spencer and him.  Ryan was nowhere in sight.  "Speaking of, where is Ryan?"

Spencer looked up toward the stage, but it was still abandoned, a single music stand the only thing occupying its space.  "Not sure.  He should be 'round here somewhere,"  he replied, his lips pursed.  "But anyway, Brendon, I might have to leave you and him in charge of the place for a bit.  I'm real tired today.  Can barely stand on my own two feet for some reason.  Ya think you two could handle that?"

"Sure thing,"  Brendon said.  He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the dusty coat rack.  "You feelin' okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just tired."  Spencer heaved a sigh, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.  "Didn't sleep that great last night.  Or the night before.  I might have to see a doctor about this insomnia I'm havin'.  It's really takin' a toll on me."

"We don't want that,"  Brendon said, doing his best to muster up a comforting smile.  Spencer looked absolutely drained.  The bags under his eyes were as dark as the nighttime sky.  His skin was pale, and overall, he just seemed uncomfortable.  Ryan was right.  He really wasn't holding up well.

Silence fell over the room, making the air around them feel heavier than normal.  The only sound was the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.  Even the buzz of the city outside was muted by the walls of The Spotted Cat.  Brendon found himself absentmindedly tracing patterns on the nearest table to occupy his racing mind.  Where was Ryan?

Then, Spencer heaved yet another sigh, breaking the thick silence in the atmosphere.  "Well, I'll leave ya to it,"  he said.  Even his voice sounded exhausted.  "Ryan should be comin' back soon, from wherever he's run off to now.  If you two have any troubles, you know where to find me.  I'll try to rest up."

"You need it,"  Brendon agreed, watching as Spencer pulled himself away from the wall with a grimace.  He started to move toward the back room, where the steps to his upstairs room were, but he looked like he was struggling.  The poor man could barely walk two feet without his face twisting up in pain.  Brendon felt awful.  "Take care, Spencer."

Then he was left alone in The Spotted Cat, and the agonizing silence rang in his ears.

He had nothing to do.  There were no guests--as usual--and everything had been cleaned the day before.  There was no one to serve, no one to tidy up after.  There was absolutely nothing for him to busy himself with.  All he could do was sit at the bar counter and wait for Ryan to return.  If he decided to return.