Chapter Text
With suitcases in hand and the violin case wedged between his arms Rocky stumbles out of the door as an old cat pushes him out. “Get out you Raskelf!” She hisses. “It's been far too long you've been bothering me!”
“Miss please! I don't have a place to stay for the night. I promise it won't happen again” Rocky pleads, though the old cat shakes her head dismissing him. “Should've thought about that before playing the violin at 2 am and shouting some poems! Get out!” She slams the door shut, disappearing into the apartment house. Rocky winces as the door slams shut before dusting his white shirt and blue pants off. ‘Shugs, what now?’ Rocky looks around, thinking what he should do next. “Nina, she'll let me stay a few nights!” Rocky says out loud, getting weird looks as pedestrians walk by. He grabs his suitcases and looks for his car. He walks down the street to a crossing. Didn't he park it around here? - No wait, on the other side, wasn't it?
The tabby walks round unsure where and when again he parked the car. Walking from one street to another, he looks around frantically, trying to find the expensive Earl Sedan he definitely didn't borrow from Mrs. M. Finally, about two blocks away from his ex-apartment he finds the car, the burgundy body is splattered with mud, one of the tires inner wooden beams broken, a light smashed and a huge dent on the right front of the hood. Unfazed by the damages done, probably by himself, Rocky opens the back door, places his suitcases on the rear seat along with his violin case, slamming the door shut before getting into the driver's seat, turning the ignition and letting the engine rattle. That doesn't sound good, Rocky thinks for a moment, shrugging and releasing the parking brake, slowly taking off towards the house of his aunt Nina.
It’s a fresh friday, the spring air crisp and chilly, filled with fumes from cars, industries and newly arriving and departing ships. The streets are packed with people, all commuting to their jobs or maybe being back from a night shift, trying to get out of the city. The tabby crosses the river over the McKinley Bridge and slowly enters the green and less populated side of the Mississippi River, filled with single homes and parks. After just a few minutes he stops in front of a small quaint white, two story house accompanied by a small shack. He turns the engine off, gets out and walks to the small porch, ringing the bell. He holds a small smile on his face, hoping Nina won’t be too mad since last time visiting.
After a few minutes of silence Rocky rings the bell again. Silence; again. He holds his finger on the bell, the loud ringing even audible through the door.
“For god's sake, stop ringing!” an angry irish woman shouts as she slowly makes her way down the stairs before unlocking the door and harshly opening it. “Aunt Nina! Good Morning…” Rocky says with a smile on his face, though not receiving an equally happy face back. “Why are you here?” Nina asks, still in her nightgown as if she just woke up. “It's seven in the morning.”
He chuckles. “I just want to visit my favorite auntie and Cousin.'' He giggles and opens his arms as if he’s asking for a hug. “I’m your only aunt,” Nina states blankly and crosses her arms, “What do you want this time?”
“Oh don't be like this. I just want to spend the day like back in the day; just you, freckle and me,” Rocky smiles, his teeth almost beaming in white, hoping she'll let him in, “Anyhow, don't you get up around this time anyway?” the tabby asks.
“Normally,” Nina says, “I don't have to deal with you anymore.”
Both cats look at each other silently until the Irish woman sighs and steps to the side, letting Rocky into the house. “Just get inside before you wake up any neighbors with you being… you.” she sighs almost as if she can’t believe letting him in at this hour. Gleefully Rocky lights up “Thank you Nina! I just have to get something out of my car.” Rocky shouts as he runs to the car, opening the back door, taking out his suitcases and his violin case and slamming the door loudly, a tinny sound from the door echoing through the empty street. “Roark, What in the devil are you doing?” Nina shouts. “Sorry,” Rocky says. “Forgot it's so loud.” He walks up the small stone path and hops up the few stairs up to the porch before making his way into the house. “Why do you have your suitcases with you?” Nina pries suspicious of him.
“You said I could come inside… I just need to stay a few…” “No.” Nina interrupts him. “You are not staying for a fortnight. Not even tonight.” She holds the door open, motioning Rocky to get back out.
“But Nina I lost my apartment,” Rocky pleads, his ears pinned back and his tail close to his legs. “I have nowhere else.” “Roark, the last time you stayed over you climbed on the table in the middle of the night and tipped it over, almost causing a hole in the wall. I believe I don't need another of those experiences,” Nina says as the tip over her tail flicks left and right. “So… I’m sure some of you friends will take you under their wing, but I dont have the space for you.” She slowly pushes him out. “B-But… Nina can't I just share the room with Freckle like when I stayed over as a kitten? I'm sure he won’t mind.” Rocky suggests desperate not to be kicked out by Nina too. But the Irish lady doesn't budge and pushes Rocky out. “No, good day Roark.” She says and gently closes the door as Rocky stands in front of it, being left alone to his own devices once again. He can't ask Zib to let him crash since they aren't on best terms after last week, just as all members of the Brass Boys. He takes his suitcases, his violin case and walks back to the car and throws his luggage back inside before walking to the driver side and entering himself, still thinking where he could go. There's still Mr. and Mrs. M, but they would be the last option, after all they are his employer. Kind of.
Then there is… No one.
Dread sets in, a feeling he didn't have for quite sometime now, heat starting to rise in every body part, the feeling of a hole inside of him that grows every moment. His thoughts get fussy, his body forgetting how to breathe for a few seconds. His arms and legs feel weak as he manually breaths and closes his eyes. With slow breathes he slowly gets his heartbeat down and gets his thoughts unclouded before the hole inside him slowly closes.
He can't go to Mr. and Mrs. M. Not until he at least tried to get an apartment. He kneels on the expensive seat over the backrest and grabs one of his suitcases and opens the two claps before lifting the lid. Inside the suitcase are various small books, a few trinkets along with a bunch of dollar bills. Rocky takes the few he has and adds them together: 120 dollars. That should get him through at least two weeks if he'd find a cheap motel around. With an idea in his mind, a bit of money and too much regained confidence he turns the ignition, the engine rattling as before, slowly takes off towards the outer city.
***
The burgundy Earl Sedan slowly drives around the corner into the parking lot of the motel, filled with lots of cars, just a single space free. He squeezes the car in between the other cars before leaving his sedan. The motel prices itself as cheap and new, though the building looks rather left alone to the elements.
The tabby cat kills the engine and steps out, right into the sun that looks slightly over the houses across the motel. He stretches his arms and groans before slamming the door and making his way to the small reception. The tabby opens the door with his typical huge and bright smile, his bright blue eyes looking as friendly as ever. An older British shorthair cat sits at the desk, looking through documents. An old radio plays low jazz, a little plant that dried up on a shelf and a few cheap chairs stand in the room along with the desk.
“Good Morning.” Rocky says bubbly, catching the old cat's attention. Annoyed, the cat looks up, small glasses on his little nose, his gray fur turning white around his maw. “Hello.”
Rocky walks to the desk, leans on it with one arm and looks at the older man. “Do you have a free room?” he asks bluntly, the old man shrugs, turns around and points at a wall with a bunch of hooks on which normally keys would be. “We're full. Sorry lad.” the man says, looks back down on his document and ignores Rocky. The tabby sighs “Ah what a shame. Have a nice day sir.” He steps out, gets back into the sedan and drives off.
He still has a few hours to find a place to stay before having another gig at the Lackadaisy with the Brass Boy, having to see Zib again. He swallows and shakes his head, trying to ignore the inevitable confrontation with the orange lazy cat.
Driving around St. Louis is harder than Rocky thought.
Lots of streets are packed with cars that try to get from start to finish alongside the tram that runs through lots of streets, hindering more cars from filling the streets. After over an hour and only two miles he finds the next motel on the outskirts of the city next to the Mississippi River. The brown river flows slowly, at the same pace Rocky's car slowly stops in the parking space of the motel. He quickly enters the reception, a queue of people already waiting to get a room. Rocky looks past the last person, 5 more in front, sighs and enters the queue, standing still, or at least trying to. Soon he starts rocking on his heels up and down, humming a poem he recently read and wagging his tail to the melody.
It feels like hours as he stands behind the people. Finally, all the other people are already outside, he is first in line and stands at the reception and looks at a young girl, around 16 years old. “We are fully booked,” she informs Rocky before he could even open his mouth. “The guy in front of ya took the last room, sorry.” Rocky's smile fates for a moment before he chuckles. “Well then. I'll take my leave. Have a nice day miss,” He says as cheery as ever while he turns around. Above the door is a clock that displays that it is just past 9 am. He still has plenty of time… he hopes. Just as he was about to leave he turns on his heels and walks back to the reception desk. “Don't mind me asking, but do you by any chance have a map of St.louis?”
The girl looks surprised and searches around the desk. “Uuuh… I have to ask my father. I'll be back in a moment.” She stands up and walks off through the back door suddenly shouting some name Rocky didn't understand. Just a minute later a big older man walks through the door followed by the girl. “Where did you put ‘em?” she asks the older man “couldn't find ‘em where I put ‘em last time.”
“Let me look,” the man says and sighs, annoyed with his daughter. “can't even do that.”
The man opens a cabinet and finds a stack of small folded maps, taking one and holding it in front of his daughter's face. “It's right there!” he shouts “Did ya even look or just felt too lazy?”
“I thought…”
“I don't think you thought at all” her father cuts her off. “Get out. I’ll handle the reception myself.” he waves a hand as if he’s dismissing a maid.
“Cut her some slack, she’s still a teenager,” Rocky suddenly interrupts, getting the man's and girl’s attention. “What do you want you little…” he looks Rocky up and down. “...fag.”
“It's actually called Homosexual, but I can assure you sir, I am not a Homosexual.” Rocky says and holds his suspenders, trying to look the manliest he can with his scranny build in comparison to the man that is two times Rocky broughtness. Still, the tabby doesn't budge, trying to defend the girl from her fathers berating.
“That’s what every single one of you fags say until you drank enough alcohol to forget where you are and who you infect this time.” The man walks around the reception desk and stands in front of Rocky and looks rather angry. “Take the map and leave.”
The tabby swallows and takes the map from the man's grasp and pushes it into his pocket before walking backwards towards the door and grabbing the handle and opening the door.
“And I can handle my father myself.” The girl suddenly says, looking more offended by Rocky's comment than being thankful.
“Ah well then,” he says before bowing “Thank you for the Map.”
The tabby makes his way to the car and gets and unfolds the map into a huge overview over St.louis and all its attractions. Soon enough Rocky finds about five other places he wants to look at before he has to drive to the lackadaisy. “Off I go!” he shouts as he puts the car into reverse and gets out of the parking lot, the car rattling louder than before. He ignores the loud engine. It's the sound of a hard working engine, not a broken one, Rocky thinks as he drives with new found hope towards the next stop.
This time the place was too expensive, 20 dollars a night. Who would pay so much?
The next one was full again, St. Louis is becoming a popular travel destination, Rocky guessed.
The third one was almost alright; If it didn't already close business a few months ago. The map must be a little older.
It’s getting late and the sun slowly makes its way towards the horizon as Rocky parks the car half a block away from the Little Daisy Café and quickly gets his signature blue suit and Fedora with a yellow hat band out of one of the suitcases, ties his orange tie engraved with a ‘R’ around his neck and grabs his violin case before making it to the Café.
He walks around the small building, through the alleyway and towards the reinforced garage door, making sure no one sees him. He knocks on the doors three times, the slit opening and only one green orb looking down at Rocky. “Oh what a lovely daisy out on the field” Rocky says dramatically, grinning up at the eye. the slit closes again, before the door opens slowly. A big brought orange furred cat stands on the left side of the door and makes way for Rocky, his single intact eye looking down at him.
“Hey Viktor!” Rocky says as he walks in and past the cat. Viktor grunts annoyed with Rocky. “It's Vasko.” the cat says with a slovakian accent. He closes the door and locks it again before walking towards the cellar door in the far left corner of the garage and unlocks it letting Rocky through down the stairs, following him downwards. “Were you just waiting for me?” Rocky asks as they walk side by side down the stairs. “ya. you are late.” Viktor says as they slowly get closer to the banquet hall, music pouring from the opened door, waiters and waitresses getting new alcohol from the storage. Both cat's enter the big hall, the lights shining brightly above them.
The sealing is about 20 feet high, supported by only 6 pillars; two in the middle of the huge banquet on either side and four near the stage. big fairy lights stretch from pillar to pillar, engulfing the banquet along the huge and prominent chandelier right above the dancefloor in light. On the left and on the right of the stage are little extra sections for Mr. and Mrs. M's most important acquaintances. And themselves, of course.
Right in front of the stage is the dancing floor, lots of people dancing wearious dances as a Jazz band plays. Lots of different people fill the banquet, tall and small, male and female, rich and poor; all in one huge place just because alcohol is so rare around here. Viktor suddenly disappears in the midst of people as Rocky makes his way towards the stage with his violin case in hand. He pushes; he squeezes and he taps on shoulders to get through the crowd, past the dance floor and along the stage to make it backstage. He sighs and tries to get ready for the gig, ready to see the band and their destain filled eyes. The room behind the backstage door is packed with cats walking around, some carrying alcohol towards the banquet, some getting more glasses for the patrons. Among the walking is Zib, though he paces back and forth, frowning.
Rocky slowly approaches him unsure how to announce he is there. “Hey Zib” the tabby says as he walks towards the orange Cat. Zib wears a white dress shirt, a red vest with golden buttons, red long pants that end with his black and white Two Tone shoes, along with a red Fedora and yellow hat band, just like Rockys.
“There you are” Zib shouts as he looks up at him “Where the hell were you?!”
“I had some complications.”
“We’re up in five, get your ass ready kid.” Sy, one of the other band members says as he flicks his cigarette to the floor and steps on it. He grabs his trumpet and walks towards the side entrance onto the stage. Rocky kneels down and opens his violin case, his dark expensive violin laying inside. He quickly grabs it and the bow, closes the case and starts to test its tuning. After a few adjustments he tests every note a second time, just to be sure.
“Brass Boys, you’re up in 2!” a woman with a clipboard shouts before running off seemingly stressed.
Rocky sighs and closes his eyes.
Stage fright
It's a sight
It makes me feel so tight
But when I'm on the stage tonight
I can see the light
It is so bright
Now that I have confronted stage fright
I'm alright
And know that I can fight and fright
And when it comes to night
I know the sight will be nothing more than a invite