"Hiya, folks! Welcome to The Spotted Cat! I hope ya enjoy your stay and stick around for the show later! It'll be a good one!"
"Welcome to the new and improved and best jazz club in New Orleans, folks! We took this place from rags to riches just for y'all! And make sure to stick around for the show later to see one of the best saxophone players in the state! Ya can't miss it!"
"Welcome! Glad ya could make it down! Stick around for the show and tell your pals to visit the new and improved jazz club! There's none other like it in New Orleans! Believe me on that!"
To say Brendon was soaring above cloud nine was an understatement. Crowds and crowds of curious people poured through The Spotted Cat's front doors, and in no time, the place was nearly packed to the brim, the buzz of conversations filling the air. This was one of the busiest nights they'd had in weeks. There sure was going to be one hell of an audience for the show later. Brendon couldn't wait.
"Hi, ma'am! Welcome to The Spotted Cat! Would ya like me to take your coat so you can sit down and order a drink? We've got one of the best bars in the city of New Orleans! Ya haven't lived until you've tasted our drinks!"
"Hey now, Brendon, don't be sendin' a boat load of folks over to my counter. I'm havin' a hard time keepin' up."
Jon Walker flashed a devious smirk as he leaned forward against the bar counter. He was sporting a jet black tuxedo and a striking white bow tie, his hair clean and perfectly styled to his liking. He looked more dapper and handsome than Brendon had ever seen him.
"It's just business, Jon," Brendon replied with a smirk of his own, approaching the bar counter to take a seat. "Gotta make the most of this busy night."
"I don't think I've ever seen so many folks jammed into one room," Jon said, glancing around the packed jazz club. It was insanely loud, multiple conversations melding into one amalgamation of noise. Not to mention it was incredibly hot and stuffy. Brendon was almost tempted to keep the door propped open.
"Me neither," Brendon agreed with a sigh. "Man, I love doin' this stuff, but it sure as hell makes me tired."
Jon scoffed, retrieving an empty glass from underneath the counter to tend to a new customer. "You're tellin' me, kid." He filled up the glass with a golden whiskey and slid it down the counter toward the eager man who ordered it. "I've been workin' my ass off tryin' to keep up with this crowd. It's makin' me crazy."
"But you do make the best drinks in New Orleans," Brendon said, flashing Jon a wink.
"Don't flatter me, kid. It doesn't work like that."
The bell above the door jingled as another group of people filed into the building. They hung their coats on the rack, taking in the warmth and comfort the atmosphere of The Spotted Cat brought. Brendon even thought he recognized the couple as they smiled and viewed their surroundings, a sense of awe twinkling in their eyes. It didn't take Brendon long to realize it was the couple he had talked to at the marketplace all those weeks ago.
"If one more person walks through that door, I swear this building is gonna explode," Jon remarked. "We've been busy before, but what's so special about tonight? I don't know if I'm gonna be able to keep up with all the drinks these folks are gonna order."
"Oh, c'mon, Jon," Brendon said with a grin. "You're great at what ya do. Besides, I'm sure Jynx will help ya out."
As if on cue, the sleek black cat silently leaped up onto the counter from behind the bar, her amber eyes twinkling and a little white bow tie around her neck. She meowed at Brendon as she curled her tail around her poised feet.
Jon couldn't help but smile, scratching his cat behind her ears. "I'm afraid she's what's attractin' all the attention."
"Well, I can see why. That bow tie makes her look as cute as a bug's ear."
Brendon could've sworn he saw Jynx rolling her eyes at him, a delighted purr rumbling deep in her throat.
The Spotted Cat was absolutely alive and bursting with vitality. People sat at the new tables, chatting over a drink as they admired the decorations around the room. Others surrounded the bar counter, hearty laughs and joyful grins fueling the lighthearted atmosphere. There wasn't a single unhappy person as far as Brendon could see, and it made his heart swell. He'd never been happier in his entire life.
His elated mood only skyrocketed more as he saw Ryan pushing his way through the crowd and toward the bar counter.
"Hey, darlin'," Brendon greeted with a smile as Ryan took a seat next to him. "Whaddaya think of the crowd tonight?"
"It's nuts!" Ryan exclaimed. He sounded breathless, his face absolutely alight with joy; his expression made Brendon's stomach do somersaults inside his abdomen. "I don't think I've ever seen so many folks in my life!"
"And they're all here for your show, kid," Jon said with a smirk.
Even to this day, even after all the shows he'd performed since the grand re-opening of The Spotted Cat, Ryan was still as modest as ever. He shook his head, unable to stay still in his seat. "We wouldn't be able to do this without ya, Jon," he insisted. "God, I still can't believe ya turned in the cash just in time. It's crazy."
Jon shrugged, a devilish smile still adorning his face. "Well, what can I say? Brendon hit the jackpot and earned all that dough. The least I could've done was turn it in for him."
"Yeah, him and his new gamblin' addiction," Ryan teased, giving Brendon a slap on the arm. "And to think you gave me a hard time for my way of earnin' money. Your way was just as dangerous."
"But I somehow came out unscathed, didn't I?" Brendon added, flashing Ryan an impish smirk; Ryan only rolled his eyes in response.
The bar was getting busier and busier as the evening stretched on. When he wasn't talking to Brendon and Ryan, Jon was filling up glasses and tending to new customers. He was working his tail off. Brendon was exhausted just by watching him.
Then a new customer approached the bar counter, and it was someone Brendon had never expected to see in the jazz club.
"I'll have your finest whiskey, and maybe a squirt of lemon juice if you're willing," Dallon Weekes said, still clad in his elegant suit and refined demeanor.
Brendon had to do a double take. He even rubbed his eyes, just to make sure he was seeing things clearly. "Mr. Weekes?" he said in disbelief.
Surprised to hear someone calling his name, Dallon turned around; Brendon was almost disturbed to see him smile. "Oh, hello there, Urie," he greeted. His attitude was nothing like what Brendon was used to, and it made him uneasy. "Fancy seeing you here."
"What are ya doin' here, Mr. Weekes?" Brendon asked with a frown. If there was one person he never expected to see at The Spotted Cat, it was the French man standing before him. "I thought ya hated jazz clubs."
Dallon merely shrugged as Jon finished making his drink. He picked up the glass, flashing Brendon a smirk over the brim. "Well, I had to come visit my least favorite tenant's new business sometime, didn't I?"
And with a tip of his glass, he sauntered away and disappeared into the bustling crowd.
Ryan turned back as soon as Dallon left, his own perplexed frown matching Brendon's. "Well, that was weird," he remarked. "I thought your landlord hated us."
"I thought so, too," Brendon agreed. He couldn't quite make sense of it, but he wasn't complaining. It was more business and attention to The Spotted Cat, and nothing made him happier than watching as the old jazz club blossomed into something wonderful.
Sparing a glance at the ever-growing and lively crowd, Ryan took a deep breath, his eyes shining in the lighting. "Well, I should probably get ready for the show," he said, rising to his feet and turning his attention to Brendon. "Wanna come with me, Bren? There's somethin' backstage that I wanna show ya.".
Brendon couldn't swallow the butterflies in his stomach as he stood, as well, and followed Ryan into the crowd, all the way to the backstage door.
The back room was as quiet as ever, the muffled sound of the crowd barely piercing through the walls. It was a small room, but it was cozy. Dim lighting, the smell of old sheet music and leather instrument cases and dust. Brendon hadn't been backstage very often, but whenever he was, it was always to wish Ryan good luck before his shows. Brendon knew he didn't need it, but still. Their pre-show conversations always lifted his spirits a little bit more.
Ryan was silent as he disappeared behind a dusty shelf, searching for something that Brendon couldn't quite see. He didn't even think there was anything on that shelf.
"What are ya lookin' for?" Brendon asked curiously, listening to the soft bangs and clangs as Ryan continued his search.
"Somethin'," Ryan answered; Brendon almost let himself roll his eyes at the obscure reply he received. "You'll see when I find it. I know it's around here somewh--Aha!"
Ryan returned moments later with an old instrument case in his hands. It looked as if it hadn't been touched in years, layers and layers of dust coating the exterior. It definitely wasn't a saxophone case, either. Brendon knew what those looked like. He had no idea what was hiding inside that ancient case.
"It took me forever to find this," Ryan went on, his expression suddenly grim and desolate as he stared down at the case in his hands. "I....Well, just open it, and then I'll explain."
A frown adorning his face, Brendon hesitantly took the old case from Ryan. Whatever was inside, he didn't know why it seemed to be making Ryan so perturbed. It was beginning to concern him.
But when he unhooked the latches and opened the case, he saw a beautiful silver trumpet lying inside.
"It was Pop's," Ryan murmured before Brendon even had a chance to speak. "He told me he used to play it when he was younger. I figured I'd give it to ya, maybe teach ya how to play so we could do a duet sometime."
Brendon wasn't quite sure what to say. Ryan was really giving him his father's old trumpet, just like that. Brendon didn't even feel worthy enough to be in the same vicinity as the instrument.
"Are ya sure, Ry?" he asked. "I won't do it much justice."
"That's why I'm gonna teach ya," Ryan replied with a smile, but no matter how hard he tried, the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm serious, Bren. I want ya to have it. Pop would probably kill me if I let it sit on a shelf and rust, anyway."
The silver trumpet glimmered in the dim lighting, and even though it was worn and slightly dented with age, Brendon could still see his deformed reflection in the metal. Just by looking at it, he could imagine a young, carefree Spencer sitting on a curb, playing tunes for the passersby in downtown New Orleans. He wondered if that was what inspired Spencer to open up The Spotted Cat in the first place. He just wished Spencer could see how far they'd come now.
Taking a deep breath, Brendon carefully latched the case once again and set it down on the table, his heart aching inside his chest. "He'd be real proud of ya, Ryan," he said softly. "Ya know that, right?"
Ryan's gaze fell to the floor. He picked at the cuffs of his shirt without a single word. Even the muffled chatter of the crowd outside couldn't ease the pain of the uncomfortable silence.
"I miss him," he murmured, not once breaking his tear-filled stare with the floor.
Brendon missed him, too. It was impossible not to. Spencer was such a laid-back, kindhearted man who only wanted the best for the people he cared for. To have walked into his life during some of his final days hurt Brendon to even think about.
The small sound of a sniffle tore Brendon from his thoughts. Ryan dabbed at the flood of tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes, his bottom lip beginning to quiver. Despite knowing the amount of grief he was going through, Brendon still thought Ryan was one of the strongest people he'd ever met. He still managed to perform a show at The Spotted Cat every single night. He still managed to put off a blithe attitude, even though he was grieving. He still tried his hardest to make the people around him happy, just so they wouldn't have to feel the pain he did. Ryan was much stronger and braver than he believed himself to be. Brendon was proud of him.
But just because he was strong didn't mean he had to handle everything by himself. Even the strongest and bravest of people needed help from time to time, and that was exactly what Brendon was there for.
"C'mere," he said gently, reaching out to pull Ryan into his arms.
Neither of them uttered a single word, just relished in each other's comforting presence and let the dull roar of the crowd wash over them in their silence. Brendon could feel Ryan's warm breath against his neck. He could feel Ryan's steady heartbeat against his chest, nearly in sync with his own. It was in moments like these when Brendon realized they'd truly been through Hell and back together. The foreclosure, Spencer's sickness, the risky ways of earning money. It almost humored Brendon to think back when they had thought The Spotted Cat's slow business was their biggest problem. Their old naivety made him smile. He wished he could go back to those days.
But then again, standing there in that exact moment, he was content. In fact, he was more than content. They may have lost Spencer, but they had gained so much more. The Spotted Cat was back in business and busier than ever. Jon and Jynx were the lives of the party, serving drinks and bringing wit and delight to the atmosphere of the jazz club. Ryan was slowly but surely gaining fame in the city of New Orleans with his outstanding saxophone performances. Most of all, though, Brendon had found a new family, a new home.
A truly incredible person to call his own.
He never wanted this moment to end.
The crowd outside suddenly fired up, their muffled cheers and cries permeating the still silence of the backstage room. Ryan stepped back, wiping away the faint trail of tears on his cheek as he glanced toward the stage entrance. It sounded like the crowd was ready for the show.
"I'd better get out there," Ryan said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't wanna keep 'em waitin', huh?"
Brendon watched with a small smile as Ryan went to assemble his instrument, still sniffling and blinking away the tears that insisted on welling up in his eyes. There he was being strong again. He didn't have to perform a show, but he was going to, just to please the crowd and give them what they wanted. He was a true performer in Brendon's mind, one of the best out there, and he wanted to make sure Ryan knew that.
"Good luck, darlin'," Brendon said, taking a deep breath as Ryan approached the entrance to the stage, saxophone and music in hand. "You're gonna do great. Blow the roof off the place."
Ryan turned to flash him a frail smile. His gaze shined with pain, his skin still red and blotchy with tears, but that wasn't going to stop him from doing what he loved. Nothing could strip away his passion for music; Brendon was sure of that.
Before Ryan turned to march out onto the stage, he hurried back to give Brendon a kiss. It was a bit clumsy, his saxophone completely in the way, but Brendon didn't care. He pulled Ryan closer, his skin prickling and his heart racing. It was crazy to him. No matter how many times they kissed, or even merely touched, he felt like he was falling in love all over again, and that was a feeling he never wanted to go away.
The crowd continued to grow louder and louder, rumbling the walls of the small room. They were becoming impatient, eagerly awaiting the nightly show, and it was almost time for it to begin.
His cheeks flushed, Ryan pulled back, a sheepish smile adorning his face as he turned to head back to the stage entrance; Brendon couldn't help but smirk to himself when he noticed that Ryan's hair was a complete disaster. That wasn't too noticeable, right?
Brendon took a deep breath, soaring above cloud nine as he left the backstage room to return to the bustling crowd outside. He was sure an idiotic, lovestruck grin was plastered to his face, his own cheeks flushed red, but he didn't care in the slightest. He'd never been happier in his entire life, and that was all that mattered.
Pushing his way through the massive crowd, Brendon found Jon near the back, lighting up a cigarette as he waited for the show to start. He took a drag and flashed Brendon a mischievous smirk as he approached.
"You're lookin' a little flustered there, kid," Jon remarked, a puff of smoke gently billowing from between his lips. "Is there somethin' I need to know about?"
Brendon shook his head, stuffing his hands in his pockets, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling like a lovestruck fool. "Nope. Nothin' at all."
Jon narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Brendon like a science experiment. "Well, judgin' by your hair and your goofy smile, I'm gonna go out on a limb and say both of ya got a little too handsy back there in that small room. Do I need to supervise you two all the time?"
"No, Jon, of course not," Brendon scoffed, trying his best to nonchalantly cross his arms over his chest, but he knew he couldn't hide the even deeper blush that was crawling onto his cheeks. "That's crazy talk. I think you're hallucinatin'."
Jon merely shrugged his shoulders, turning his gaze back to the stage as he took another long drag of his cigarette. "Then ya might wanna pull your shirt down a little."
Brendon's embarrassment was impossible to hide now.
The air in the room was hot and sticky, fueled by dozens upon dozens of eager customers swarming the jazz club, and it clung to Brendon's skin. Droplets of sweat soaked into his clothes, dampened the hair that fell over his forehead. He was clueless as to how Jon wasn't even breaking a sweat in the intense heat of the room. Brendon felt like he was swimming through the thick air.
As the crowd began to quiet down, anticipating the start of the show, Brendon swallowed the lump forming in his throat. He'd been meaning to ask Jon something for a while, but he had never built up the nerve to do so. Now was as good a time as any, he figured.
"Hey, Jon?" he began, a hesitant tone lacing his voice. "I've been wonderin' about this for a while, and it's kinda been freakin' me out."
"What's that?" Jon asked, twirling the cigarette between his fingers as he stared down at Brendon with his steady gaze.
Brendon sucked in a trembling breath, glancing toward the empty stage, even though he knew Ryan would never hear them from where he was at. "Remember when ya said those loan sharks always hunt ya down until your dyin' days? Well, I got involved in their loop, too. What if they come back and try to mess everythin' up? We've worked so hard to get here. I'm scared they're gonna just pop up some day and ruin it all."
For a long while, Jon merely kept his unreadable gaze locked on Brendon, the cigarette still smoking in his hands. His face held no expression, completely devoid of all emotion, and it made Brendon uneasy. He just wanted a simple answer. He wasn't expecting some convoluted explanation. All he wanted was confirmation that the loan sharks weren't going to creep up on them and destroy everything they'd worked so hard to build back up.
Then Jon scoffed, flicking his cigarette ashes onto the floor. "They won't come back, Brendon," he said. "Trust me."
Brendon almost opened his mouth to question Jon further, but the more he thought about the situation, he closed it again. Jon had his ways of handling things, ways that didn't necessarily need explanations. Brendon wasn't even sure he wanted an explanation, anyway. With someone like Jon Walker, the less questions asked, the better. Brendon had learned that over the course of their relationship, and he intended to keep it that way.
Just then, the lights overhead began to dim, and the lights illuminating the stage grew even brighter. The crowd erupted with cheers as Ryan walked out onto the stage, his saxophone shining in the light and his childlike smile brightening the whole room. He looked like the happiest person on Earth.
"How's everyone doin' tonight?" he asked as he set up the stage for his show.
The crowd cheered in response, and Brendon made sure he was one of the loudest.
"That's good," Ryan went on, his grin stretching from ear to ear. He pulled up a music stand, getting ready for the start of the performance. "Before I get started, though, I just wanna take a quick second to thank y'all for comin' out tonight. It's been a rough few months for us here at The Spotted Cat, and the fact that y'all keep comin' over just makes our day. We don't know where we'd be without all the love and support."
The crowd cheered and cried even louder, only fueling the delighted smile on Ryan's face.
"Wow, y'all are eager tonight," he laughed. "So who's ready for some jazz?"
Everyone absolutely erupted, clapping and cheering and stomping their feet on the floor. The sheer vitality of the crowd made Brendon's stomach do somersaults inside his abdomen. This was, without a doubt, one of the best turnouts they'd ever had, and it could only go up from there. Brendon was beyond excited.
"Sounds good to me," Ryan said. "All right, this show goes out to my four favorite people in the whole world. Jon Walker, you're a true hero in my book. I can't even count how many times ya went outta your way to help us and The Spotted Cat. We truly couldn't have done this without ya. Let's give Jon a hand, everyone!"
The crowd turned to applaud Jon, who merely shook his head and tried to dismiss their thanks, but even he couldn't hide the small smirk that adorned his face. He definitely was one of the reasons why The Spotted Cat was still alive, and he deserved the world for it.
"And of course I've gotta thank little Jynx Walker, too," Ryan continued with a grin. "In case ya missed her, she's the adorable black cat wearin' the white bow tie. She was a huge part of this journey, too, believe it or not, so let's hear it for Jynx!"
The crowd cheered as Jynx effortlessly leaped from the bar counter and padded over to Brendon and Jon, her amber eyes gleaming with joy. Brendon even thought he saw her smiling.
As everyone's attention returned to Ryan, his expression suddenly grew grim, and Brendon could feel his stomach twisting into knots. He had a feeling he knew who the next person to thank was.
"Now, if ya ever came to The Spotted Cat in the past, ya probably remember someone named Spencer Smith, right?" he began, his voice soft as the crowd fell completely silent. "He was my pop, one of the best guys out there, but he recently passed due to a real bad illness. It was hard, of course, and it still is, but I know he'd be happy to see The Spotted Cat back in business like this. That's all thanks to you folks."
The crowd gave him a hospitable round of applause, some even whistling for him, but he quickly changed the subject to his final shoutout before the topic upset him too much.
"The last person I wanna thank is someone who I never expected to walk into my life. If ya came up to me a year ago and told me a wheat would stroll into The Spotted Cat askin' for a job, and ya told me he'd end up bein' the very reason I'm still standin' here today, well, I'd call ya crazy!"
A hearty chuckle rose from the crowd, rumbling through the walls of the room.
"In all seriousness, though, this guy is the sole reason I never gave up hope. I wanted to quit so many times in the past few weeks. I wanted to throw in the towel, just give up and go home, but he never let me. He stayed by my side the whole time. He never let me down, and he never lost faith in me, even though I was a little nasty to him sometimes. When The Spotted Cat went into foreclosure, he did everythin' in his power to pay off the debt. When I tried to handle the debt by myself, he saved me from drownin' in my own blind determination. When my pop passed, he never left me. He got my pop cremated because I couldn't pay for it. Somehow he always knew what to do, and I don't know what I would've done without him. There's not a single doubt in my mind when I say he saved my life, and for that, I'm eternally grateful. Let's hear it for Brendon Urie."
All eyes turned to Brendon as he stood dumbfounded at the back of the crowd. He couldn't believe his ears as they exploded into applause, applause for him. Jon slapped him on the back, a smug grin adorning his face. Jynx meowed happily and pawed at his leg. The crowd cheered and cried and clapped, and Brendon didn't know how to react. Why were they making such a big deal out of him? He had only done what was right. He didn't understand.
Then, up on the stage, he caught Ryan's gaze. Ryan was smiling at him, the happiness in his smile finally twinkling in his eyes. He nodded, as if to assure Brendon that the crowd was applauding him for a reason, and then, he mouthed something to him. Even in his elated and puzzled state, Brendon could easily tell that the words were a heartfelt "I love you."
Brendon didn't hesitate to mouth the words right back to him.
As the crowd settled back down, Ryan beamed at everyone standing before him, his eagerness sparking the intense vitality in the room. "All right, I think that's enough sappy stuff for one night," he said with a laugh. "Now who's ready for some jazz?"
The deafening cheers of the crowd were enough of an answer for him.
"Then let's get started!"
The sweet, smooth sound of the saxophone rang through the room as the evening rolled on, bringing joy and serenity to the atmosphere of The Spotted Cat. Jazz was such a comforting style of music. That was why Brendon liked it so much, and to finally be in New Orleans, in the heart of it all, made it sound that much better. That, of course, and the fact that his favorite person in the whole world was playing it for a crowd that loved him.
With an abrupt meow, Jynx gracefully leaped up onto Brendon's shoulder, wrapping her slender form around his neck. Brendon could feel her content purrs as she snuggled in around him, watching Ryan with her steady amber eyes. Even she seemed to like his playing, and Brendon didn't blame her one bit for that.
Next to him, Jon heaved a sigh, his absent gaze locked on the stage as Ryan continued to play. "Ya did good, kid," he said, a small smile adorning his face. "Ya did good."
Brendon couldn't help but smile, either.
The city of jazz was officially back on the map, and The Spotted Cat was finally the center of it all.
~~~~~
And that's the end of Mad as Jazzmen! I was gonna save all my final comments for the Q&A chapter, but I have a whole ass story that you guys need to hear now
So last Tuesday, after I came home from school, I went to start up my laptop (as you do) and the blue screen of death came up. A boot-up configuration error. Great, time to panic, right? I was stressed af for the rest of the day because the last half of this chapter and ALL of The Ghost of Him was on there, IN NOTEPAD BECAUSE I'M A DUMBASS AND DON'T SAVE IT TO GOOGLE UNTIL I'M DONE. Lesson learned for next time but still
Anyway, luckily for my dumbass, the LAST weekend I had sent everything I had currently to my email for safe-keeping. Which was all I had of The Ghost of Him and the first half of this chapter. Unfortunately though, I had worked on the last half of this chapter after that and it was lost to the depths of purgatory when my laptop crashed
HOWEVER, fear not. Because I was in such a blind panic, I grabbed a notebook and a pen and HAND-WROTE THE WHOLE BACKSTAGE ROOM PART FROM MEMORY. Yes, you read that correctly. My paranoid ass re-reads my own stories so much that I could literally write that entire part from memory. Some of it is a little different (which is getting on my nerves) but at least I have it, right?
So yeah, sometimes it pays to obsessively read your stories over and over again because I hand-wrote all that from my crappy memory. Alzheimer's who?
My laptop still isn't fixed btw. This is my dad's work laptop oops. Shoutout to my dad for somewhat saving my sanity
Also, if the part from where Brendon meets up with Jon and on feels a little rushed or sloppy, it's because I frantically wrote it at midnight last night trying to finish the story. Hopefully it's still okay though haha
SO, last chance to ask questions for the Q&A if you want! I'll probably post that chapter in a few days with my final thoughts as well
Pray for my laptop and my sanity
Love y'all! Remember to vote/comment/share with your pals! <3