Gents & Dames
Five: A Bushel and A Peck
Jack was still staring in dismay at the closed door when Thomas cleared his throat. "I think we all probably could have predicted that," he said. "But don't worry, Jack, you've got all day tomorrow."
"Yeah," Jack mumbled, but he sounded almost crushed. Like he couldn't believe that David hadn't been happy to see him, even though he had expected it. "I..."
"Don't go after him yet," Nick advised. "Dave...well, he'll need awhile to get his head around this, you know?"
Jack nodded.
"You want a drink?" Nick offered. "I can go raid the bar. Nathan, gimme the keys."
"No," Nathan snapped. "If Jack wants a drink, he can go elsewhere."
"There's no need to be rude," Thomas snapped. He stood up. "However, gentlemen, this corset is growing tiresome, so I think it's time to retire for the evening. Nicholas, be a gentleman and accompany Jack to his hotel—I assume you have arrangements at a hotel, Jack."
"Yeah," Jack said.
"Good. Nick, make sure he gets there safely." He raised an eyebrow. "A gentleman who can throw around a thousand dollars on a bet probably shouldn't wander the city late at night. There are unsavory people about—especially in this neighborhood."
"Sure thing, Thomas." Nick nodded and stood, and Jack followed hesitantly.
Jack and Thomas sized each other up for a moment; Jack had very little idea where Thomas stood. Thomas had been perfectly civil...since the punching. On the other hand, Jack had the bruise to prove that Thomas's civility could fade at any moment.
"Jack," Thomas finally said, and held out a hand to shake. "I don't care what anyone says, I'm glad you came here tonight. You didn't owe me any cash, so I think the punch to the face just about squared us up."
"Sure," Jack said hesitantly. "Does that mean that next time I can hit back?"
Thomas laughed and they shook hands.
Jack glanced at Nathan, who was positively glaring. But not at him: Nathan was giving Thomas a look like he hoped the man would drop dead. Nick threw them both nervous glances. "You two, uh, have a good night, okay?" he asked.
Thomas made an amused noise and Nathan muttered something under his breath.
"Okay, well...I'll see you tomorrow," Nick finally said. "Come on, Jack."
"Sure," Jack said. He gave Nathan an apologetic look. "G'night, Nathan."
Nathan didn't answer.
As they wound through the maze of hallways, Jack heard what sounded without doubt like an inappropriate noise. There was a distinct, rhythmic banging, with an accompanying high-pitched creaking. And those were just the noises of (Jack assumed) a bed—he could also hear a breathy moaning, clearly female, and occasional grunts. He threw a questioning look at Nick, who shrugged.
"The girls who work here—and some of the guys—well, everyone's gotta make a living," Nick said, not sounding particularly scandalized.
"Yeah?" Jack stopped walking, stricken. "But...Thomas?"
"Not in a long time," Nick said. "He didn't like it much, I guess—Nathan sure as hell didn't like him doing it. But most of the dancers don't seem to mind it much; it's extra cash. Thomas is the only one who really makes a living on just performing, and that's only 'cause he owns part of this place."
Nick led the way past another few rooms with moans escaping from under the doors, and finally out into a side alley. Jack only felt a little nervous—he had grown up on the streets despite how long he'd been away, he still felt at home. But then again, as a kid, he hadn't had more than nickels and dimes to lose. Now there was actual money in his wallet—a lot of it, really.
It wasn't too far until they were back to the main drag, and only a few blocks down that to a subway stop. "This thing is real handy," Jack said. "Can you imagine if we'd had these back then?"
"Yeah." Nick smiled a little. "Yeah, it woulda made life easier."
Jack cleared his throat. "I owed you a couple bucks, didn't I?"
"Yeah. A couple." Nick smirked for a second. "You know, before you ran off, I actually felt bad I didn't have more to give you. Thomas did too—he was always flat broke then, 'member?"
"I do." He remembered it clearly, actually.
Thomas—Blink had come up to him two days before the wedding and put a quarter in his hand. "It's all I got, Jack," he'd said. Jack had refused it, saying he had enough; the money had come together at the last second. Everything was taken care of: they had a place to hold the damn thing, a rabbi who was willing to marry them (with a promise that Jack would convert, that he wanted to, he just hadn't had the time yet), the food, and the dress. It was all adding up to be a bundle, but they'd been working hard to earn it, and the guys had all chipped in, and given what they could. Jack had it all stashed in Kloppman's safe, all he had to do was show up the morning of the wedding, and pay for the space, the dress, and the cake.
"Here," Jack said quickly, tearing his thoughts away from back then. He dug out his wallet and pressed a ten dollar bill into Nick's hand.
"That's more than you owed me, Jack."
"Please, take it." Jack threw him the sincere face, and Nick sighed. "It's interest—I done wrong by leaving, by taking the money with me. Just take it."
"You know, Dave tried to pay us back," Nick said, after he pocketed the cash. "Most of us wouldn't let 'im. You took our money, not him, and he needed it to pay off the collectors."
Jack winced. Never mind that he hadn't shown up and there had been no marriage, the food and the dress and the room was still expensive. They wouldn't have cared that Sarah hadn't gotten married, only about the money they were owed. The family would have owed more than it was making. David had probably had to leave school again, after only just getting back to it.
"I don't know how I'm gonna do it, Nick, but I'm gonna make this right."
"Good luck," Nick said, and it sounded like he probably meant it. "So...Jack, where'd you go, anyhow?"
Jack chewed on his lip for a second before he said, "Out west. But not...Not just on a whim, Nick. It turned out I, I had family. I hadn't ever known about 'em, my mother's parents, but..." He trailed off. "I got a letter from my granddad, I had to go."
"Did you have to leave without saying goodbye?" Nick asked plaintively.
Jack hung his head. The words died in his throat, I couldn't face everyone, and he didn't speak them. But after a long silence, he asked, "How did...How did Kid Blink end up like he did? The Kid I remember was...well, he didn't dress like a dame, that's for sure."
Nick chuckled. "Yeah, I was a little surprised the first time I saw him. But he gave me a pretty good job, so what do I care if he likes to dress like a dame and take his clothes off?"
"Well, yeah," Jack agreed. "I'm not sayin' it matters, I'm just sayin'...how'd it happen?"
"I wasn't there or nothing," Nick said. "I was working in a factory. Everyone kinda went their own way after you split. But the way I heard it, he begged a job off Medda in old Irving Hall, just pulling curtains and like that. Well, one day he was helping out some actress, helping her learn lines or somethin', and Meda heard him, said he was pretty good. She tested him, found out he can sing and dance—who knew that, right?"
"I sure as hell didn't," Jack said. "I mean, I remember he was always hanging around theaters an' all, but..."
"Yeah," Nick said. "Yeah, I guess he learned somethin'. Anyway, Medda thought he was good so she put him on stage a couple times, he did a good job. Eventually got one of them duets, you know? But the doll he was playin' against got real sick and lost her voice one night. There was a guy who knew his part, but no one knew hers, so Thomas...Well, what I heard is that he grabbed a wig and did it, played it for laughs."
"People laughed?"
"That's what he told me. People liked it a lot. And after that... After that, Medda told him there's, well, other kinds of theaters. Not nice ones, like Irving Hall...shadier ones. Like the Hotbox. Where he could get a job doin' those same kinda numbers, but playing 'em for real. She got him an audition, I guess, and he got a gig at the Hotbox."
"You said he owns the place?"
"Not all of it," Nick explained. "The guy who owns the rest, used to own the whole thing...well, the bulls got wise that some stuff was goin' on there. You know, the dancers sellin' themselves was bad enough, but all the queers..." He shrugged. "He and Thomas worked out a deal. He sold Thomas a third of the place for cheap, if Thomas would take the fall when the cops came. So Thomas bought it, an' the cops came, an' he did a few nights in jail."
"Really?"
"Really. Henry, the guy who owns the rest of the joint, he didn't care. He'd have left Thomas in there to rot, but there wasn't a lot of proof what happened, so he was only there a few days. Of course, now the police are always breathing down Thomas's neck, he just about never goes out, so he hired Nathan to take care of his business for him."
"And..." Jack thought about it for a second. "Was Nathan surprised when he found out about, uh...Thomas?"
"I dunno. I wasn't there." Nick shrugged. "I guess Nathan had gone to the Hotbox not even knowing who Adelaide was, an' when he figured it out, tracked him down backstage to say hi. They hadn't seen in each other in a couple of years, he said. And they hit it off, and after Thomas gave Nathan a job, Nathan gave me a job, so I think it all worked out."
"Nice of them," Jack said.
"They're good people, never mind being queer," Nick said.
Jack took a deep breath. He believed Nick, that Nathan and Thomas were good people—even though he doubted that Nathan would forgive him if he won the bet. But maybe it was good enough to try, to do what he could. And if he won and Nathan still didn't forgive him, at least it would mean that David did. And if David forgave him, he wasn't sure anything else would matter.
*
David was still in a daze when he walked in the door to his apartment. He was greeted by darkness, luckily; he didn't want to make excuses for where he'd been. His parents knew he spent time with "the guys" but they didn't know about Adelaide's show. Sarah knew, and she would shake her head disapprovingly every time he came home late. Another reason why it wouldn't be such a bad thing when she moved out.
He waited for his eyes to get accustomed to the light, then moved to the living room, and saw his bed was already occupied. Squinting revealed Ari. He'd probably been over, stayed late, and ended up sleeping over. Not really appropriate, but maybe more so than it had been when Sarah was seventeen and Jack would stay the night.
David stripped off his tie, tossed it over a chair, kicked off his shoes, and nudged Ari. "Move over," he mumbled. It wasn't the first time this had happened. Ari woke up enough to make an almost-human noise, then rolled over. David sighed and lay down next to him.
He shut his eyes and tried to sleep, to shut his mind down. But all he could see was the image of Jack, staring at him. Looking sincere, looking like no time had passed. Like he hadn't run off with all their money and left Sarah in her wedding dress.
He buried his head in the pillow and Ari began to snore. David sighed and rolled over again, unable to get comfortable. Not surprising, with Ari's bulk taking up half the bed.
But then, he'd always slept fine with Jack there. He wondered how many nights he'd drifted off like that, back to back with Jack. It had been almost comforting. The steady rhythm of Jack's breathing, the accidental brush of Jack's hand against his back. It hadn't felt awkward, it hadn't made it hard to sleep.
It had been comfortable. Jack had been comfortable.
David knew full well he wasn't going to fall asleep. He rolled out of bed, stood up, and looked out the window. He'd checked the window in the old tenement so many mornings after Jack had disappeared, inwardly hoping he'd be out there, dozing off in the pale dawn light. It had become a habit, one he hadn't broken until he'd moved. But Jack had been gone, and eventually David had come to terms with the fact that gone meant gone forever.
Or it should have meant that. Not that Jack would come back someday, not that tonight, when David stared out at the skyline, that somewhere in the city, Jack was looking at the same sight.
David sat in his armchair and stared out at the city lights. And he remembered the night a decade ago, the last night he'd seen Jack. Jack had been nervous—no one could have blamed him for that—and clutching a piece of paper. Babbling about going out west, about family. About taking Sarah, maybe about taking them all.
But then he'd...David sighed. Of all the stupid things Jack had ever done, it had been by far the stupidest. But he still remembered it, moment for moment. Jack had put a hand on David's neck and leaned down, resting their foreheads together. "Come with me, Dave. Just you and me."
"Jack, I can't."
"Please, Dave. I'm begging you. We can go now, there's a train at dawn—you and me, we can go together. David—"
"Jack, stop."
He'd pushed Jack away, not able to stand it. He'd been able to smell the liquor still on Jack's breath from the party, he knew Jack was drunk, that was why he was talking crazy.
"David, please."
David had pushed him away, but couldn't look away. Couldn't break eye contact.
"You're marrying my sister, Jack. Tomorrow."
"Come with me, David."
"She's my sister."
"Please."
"Jack—"
"David." Jack had reached out for his hand; David had pulled it away. "Please. If I mean anything to you, anything at all, come with me. Please."
"Jack. Just...stop."
David had turned away. He'd walked into the building and left Jack standing outside. And hadn't seen Jack since.