Poor Spencer nearly had a heart attack when he saw the brand new version of The Spotted Cat, but at least it would've been for a good reason. He was absolutely overjoyed. Brendon couldn't help but grin at the man's eager childlike glee, and the thrilled expression adorning Ryan's face only made it better. The two of them had never seemed happier.
But the renovations were only the beginning of Ryan's ambitious plans. After Spencer returned to the upstairs to rest, Ryan closed all the doors, made sure all the windows were latched, and put his saxophone together once again. It was time for phase two.
Ryan was more eager than Brendon had ever seen him. With a twinkle in his eyes and a spring in his step, there was nothing in the world that could bring him down, and Brendon was sure of that. Nothing made him happier than seeing Ryan happy, too.
"Today's the day, Bren," Ryan said with a grin as he gathered his sheet music. His saxophone hung around his neck, the black strap contrasting gorgeously with the golden shine of the instrument. "Ready to hit the streets and get some folks to remember The Spotted Cat?"
"You know I am," Brendon replied. He couldn't hide the excitement coursing through his veins, bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He was beyond ready for this.
The smile Ryan flashed him then seemed different than the others. The light behind his eyes conveyed an emotion that Brendon couldn't quite comprehend, but it made something inside his chest twinge. He didn't know what it was, so he did his best to just ignore it. Maybe he needed to visit a doctor about that.
He helped Ryan pack up his things. His sheet music, some extra reeds, a bottle of mouthpiece cleaner, other jazz musician necessities. He even offered to carry the saxophone case down the street. Whatever made Ryan's job easier, he was willing to do. This was Ryan's time to shine.
It was the perfect day outside. Perfect temperature, perfect amount of sunshine, perfect amount of puffy white clouds decorating the bright blue sky. Perfect day for playing jazz on the streets and attracting people toward the best jazz club in town.
They set up on the corner of a busy market. While Ryan tightened the ligature around his mouthpiece, Brendon opened the case to accept any money and even propped a small sign he had made against the case. It was nothing special, just the name of the jazz club written in pen, but to Ryan, it seemed to be the best gift he had ever received.
"You made that?" Ryan asked. His smile practically made him glow in the bright sunlight.
Brendon nodded. It hadn't taken him long, but he wanted to add a little something special in hopes of attracting more people. Besides, now if people loved listening to Ryan play, then they would know where to find him. At the brand new and revamped Spotted Cat.
"I love it," Ryan went on. "Man, what would I do without ya, Bren? You've made everything so much better. I'm glad ya popped into town and stopped by The Spotted Cat that one day. Who knows where Pop and I would be without ya."
It was a simple expression of gratitude, but to Brendon, it couldn't have made him happier. Never, not once in his life, had he ever expected to stroll into a new and unfamiliar city and instantly change his life around for the better. He had expected challenges, challenges that might have made him change his mind about moving out, but instead, he found The Spotted Cat. He found Spencer. He found a job in a place he loved. But most importantly, he found Ryan. His new friend. Dare he say his best friend. They hadn't known each other long, but there was a connection there that Brendon knew came around once in a lifetime. Not even Kenny made him as happy as Ryan did. Just hanging around in silence brought a smile to his face, and without a doubt, Brendon knew he wouldn't trade this for anything in the world.
He realized he was staring then; he hoped Ryan hadn't noticed.
"Market's gettin' busy," Ryan remarked, absentmindedly watching the people bustle around the fruit carts and other miscellaneous stands. "Think it's time to start playin'?"
Brendon shrugged. "A good a time as any," he replied. There were dozens of people already shopping around the market, and hopefully a handful of them would take an interest in Ryan's music.
Now that Brendon thought about it, too, he'd never heard Ryan play other than a few simple scales. Spencer had said he was an outstanding performer, so if Brendon hadn't been eager before, he was beyond twitching with excitement now.
Phase two was in full swing.
Ryan began playing, and the music instantly filled the stagnant air of the marketplace around them. It wasn't a complicated melody, but it was beautiful and harmonious, pleasing to the ears. Brendon felt goosebumps prickle his skin as he merely sat and watched Ryan play. He looked so content, so at home while he played. He was beyond an outstanding performer. He was incredible.
The melodies caught the attention of a few passersby, but none of them ventured over to see the sign or donate any money. It was still early in the day, though. Brendon wasn't giving up hopes yet. As long as he could listen to Ryan while he waited, he didn't mind if phase two went late into the night, or even early into the next day. People would come eventually. They always did.
One of the stand owners took an interest in the melodies and flashed Ryan a thumbs-up, even tossed a dime in the case. "Soundin' good, kid," he remarked with a gruff voice. "Keep up the good work."
"Thank ya, sir!" Ryan said, his grin stretching from ear to ear. One taker down, dozens more to go. Brendon had faith. Ryan's playing could attract the attention of anyone in New Orleans.
A young married couple stopped by next, their arms linked and their joyful smiles nearly identical. The woman even fished two dimes out of her purse and tossed it in the case while her husband eyed the sign Brendon had made. Perhaps they were going to be the first new customers to The Spotted Cat.
"Like what ya hear?" Brendon asked, trying his best to sell their plan. "He'll be performin' a real concert down at The Spotted Cat next Friday if ya wanna stop by. I would if I were you. He's fantastic."
"Oh, isn't that the old jazz club?" the woman asked. Her voice was high-pitched and sweet-sounding, perfectly matching her demeanor.
Brendon nodded. "You bet it is. Got a new look and everythin'. Ya don't wanna miss it, folks. Trust me."
The man and the woman exchanged glances. At least they knew what The Spotted Cat was. That was a great start in Brendon's opinion. Now he just had to convince them to stop by next Friday and see Ryan's real performance.
"I think we might do just that," the man said with a smile.
Score! And it had only taken them ten minutes. Brendon was just about to wonder how his day could've possibly gotten any better when he saw Dallon stroll into the marketplace, and he didn't look happy.
"Oh, great," Brendon muttered, more to himself than anything. He tried to sink into the curb, hide behind the saxophone case, but alas, Dallon spotted him anyway. He couldn't wait for Dallon to chew him out for hanging out with the riffraff.
"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Urie and Mr. Ross," Dallon sneered as he approached the two, empty basket in hand. Why couldn't he just buy his necessities and leave? That was what the market was for.
But instead of giving him the cold shoulder, Brendon merely put on a smile and tried to kill him with kindness. "Good afternoon, Mr. Weekes!" he greeted, raising his voice to be heard over Ryan's playing. "What brings you here on this fine day? I thought you'd prefer to browse at a more sophisticated marketplace."
Dallon rolled his eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He must have just always been determined to have a bad time. "I'm here to replenish the lobby's waiting snacks," he explained dryly. "Now I could ask you the same thing, Urie. Why are you here? And sitting with Ross, of all people. I thought we talked about this."
Ryan flashed Brendon a frown, but continued to play nonetheless. Had to keep drawing people toward them and The Spotted Cat.
"We did," Brendon said. He didn't dare explain to Ryan what all this was about. Not when Dallon was still standing there, judging them harshly. "Doesn't mean it changed anything."
Dallon raised an eyebrow now, sparing a suspicious glance in Ryan's direction. "I see," he drawled. He was starting to make Brendon nervous. "And what exactly are you two doing right now?"
He couldn't let Dallon get to him that easily, that quickly. He stood up straighter, raised his chin, puffed out his chest. He was stronger than that. "We're tryin' to get The Spotted Cat back on the map," he said defiantly. "We revamped it, made it look all spiffy, so now we're tryin' to get people to come back and give it business. Why? Ya wanna stop by next Friday? Ryan's performin' a concert. Ya don't wanna miss it, Mr. Weekes. He's incredible."
"So I can see," Dallon said, his unreadable gaze glued to Ryan as he continued to play his melodies. Then he turned back to Brendon, his eyes icy and unwelcoming. "Well, Urie, I suppose I'll see you later tonight. That is, if you decide to come back before tomorrow morning, right?"
He turned on his heel and didn't look back to see Brendon staring after him, frozen to his spot with his heart beating out of his chest.
"What was that all about?" Ryan finally asked, long after Dallon had disappeared from sight. "Who was that guy?"
Brendon swallowed. Suddenly his mouth had gotten dry, his throat too tight to speak. Dallon was intent on making Brendon's life in New Orleans miserable, wasn't he? What was his problem? Ryan wasn't riffraff. He wasn't dangerous or misleading in any way. He was Brendon's friend, and nothing was going to change that. Why did Brendon even let him get underneath his skin in the first place?
"My landlord," Brendon grumbled. His ecstatic mood had been deflated, all because of an uncomfortable chat with Dallon. "Don't ask."
So Ryan didn't ask, much to Brendon's relief. He didn't feel like explaining the whole story, nor did he even want to in the first place. How was he supposed to tell Ryan that his landlord called him riffraff? It wasn't right. Ryan had been nothing but kind and welcoming, and as a new guy in the big city, Brendon couldn't have asked for anything more. Dallon was just a downer. That was the problem. He couldn't stand to see anyone else happy, so he decided to lead his life by putting others down. Brendon couldn't let him get on his nerves like that. Not anymore.
The rest of the day went rather smoothly. They had received at least two dollars in donations and convinced a couple dozen people to stop by The Spotted Cat for Ryan's performance. If that wasn't a win for their very first day on the streets, Brendon didn't know what was. They still had the rest of the week, as well, so he couldn't even begin to imagine how many more people they could round up in that time. If he ignored Dallon's dark words from earlier in the day, his moods improved drastically. Things were beginning to look up for the old jazz club.
They packed up around nightfall, just after the market closed, too. They trekked back to The Spotted Cat in eager silence, and after Ryan put away his music and instrument, he turned around and pulled Brendon in for a hug.
It startled him at first, being yanked into a tight embrace, but he didn't hesitate to return the mark of affection. It was quiet between the two of them, but it was a comfortable silence, the kind you share with someone you're deeply connected with. With Ryan's chin on his shoulder, and his fingers tightly wrapped around the fabric of his shirt, Brendon felt at home. He felt more at home than he ever had in his life.
"Thank you," Ryan told him. His voice was soft, soft and delicate, and Brendon never wanted him to let go.
He cared about Ryan. He cared about him a lot more than he probably should have, but he didn't care in the slightest. He had made a new friend, a new family. How was he supposed to brush aside something like that? And now that The Spotted Cat was on its way to booming back to business, the dismal clouds above their heads seemed to lift. Ryan wouldn't have to worry about Spencer. Jon wouldn't have to worry about the two of them. All of their financial issues would disappear come next Friday night, when Ryan performed the first concert held at the old jazz club in ages. Everything was going to be okay. Brendon knew that for a fact.
But that all changed when he saw the foreclosure sign on the door the next morning.
~~~~~
How bout that for a cliffhanger? I apologize immensely for the stress because even I had minor heart palpitations while writing that line
I've got another long week ahead of me whoop whoop. Tests everyday and even MORE show choir competitions! HOORAH! (spare me)
Oh so I'm not sure if any of you saw Mikey's Instagram post earlier this week about that amazing Frank Iero shirt that I didn't know existed on Hot Topic so you know my trashy ass instantly went out to buy it. I don't have any regrets. Literally 90% of my savings go to Hot Topic. One of these days I'm gonna run out of A.) money B.) space in my house C.) things to purchase at Hot Topic. But today is not that day
Love y'all! Remember to vote/comment/share with your pals! <3