Torch Song - 4. Chapter 4: At The Club

I sagged against the wall, sick and dizzy. Dimly, I felt Rusty grab my arm to steady me.

"My parents," I moaned. "They died in a fire."

Rusty gasped. "Oh, Mack. I'm sorry. I swear, I didn't know." He eased me into the nearest pew. "I'd have never asked you this."

I saw him turn towards the door. "Where are you going?" I asked faintly.

"Back to the club. I could use a drink." He turned back to look me squarely in the eye. "If you need one yourself, go home for it, okay? Don't follow me. It could be dangerous. In fact, you probably shouldn't go back to the club at all."

"Rusty, wait. I can't live without you. If it means dying, okay! Better that than waiting for the arthritis to cripple me."

Rusty gave me a long, searching look. I could sense hope and fear warring behind his eyes.

"There is one thing I can do for you, Mack, if you really want to go through this. Remember the feather? I can hypnotize you. I can't promise there won't be pain, but it will be less. If you're human, that is."

"And if I'm not?"

He smiled softly. "As many times as I've gone through it, I still have a hard time finding the right words. You'll know soon enough."

I nodded slowly and took a deep breath before speaking. "All right. Tell me what I have to do."

"The advice is still the same. Go home, get some sleep. Meet me tomorrow night at the club."

"Okay. But Rusty…what then? No one else will get hurt, will they?"

He shook his head. "I'll do one set of songs, then we'll go someplace away from people, Mack." He bent down to kiss me gently on the cheek. "I know you have lots of questions, baby. I promise, you'll get the answers, but we both need our rest tonight."

With that, Rusty walked to the door and was gone.

I sat awhile longer, gathering my strength. The more I thought about it, the more I realized Rusty had been guiding me towards this decision all along. I couldn't fault him. It was, after all, still my choice. Finally, I sighed and rose from the pew for the walk home. By this time tomorrow night, I'd know if I had the courage to follow.

That night, I slept without dreams. First thing next day, I took the books back to the library. I stopped by the landlady's to make sure my rent was paid, then went back to the apartment and cleaned what I'd missed the day before. Finally there was nothing left to do but wash up and get dressed for work.

I arrived early at the club and got to work, making sure the glasses were clean and the bottles full. There was already plenty of hustle around me, even at that hour. I overheard one of the busboys mention a big game at Fenway Park, and another said there were extra ships in the harbor. In other words, said the first, expect the usual crowded Saturday night.

He wasn't joking. I had to work the basement bar that evening, never my favorite place, as it tended to be claustrophobic at best. That night, people kept filing in until I thought they would push us right from behind the bar.

I knew Rusty had to work the other parts of the club first, and it was nearly ten by the time he made it downstairs. He walked right past my station, easing through the crowd as only he could, and I got a good look at his hair. It was completely red.

Rusty did his best, but I could soon tell nobody in the lounge was able to hear him over the general noise. Finally, he nodded to the piano player, smiled at those patrons closest to him, and left the stage. He leaned against the bar wearily.

I mixed up a drink and handed it to him. He drank it off and signaled me for one more. As I started to fix it, a minor disturbance in the corner of the bar caught my attention. Rusty also turned to see what was going on. Apparently, one of the busboys was trying to replace a lightbulb that a patron had unscrewed for more privacy. I shook my head. As if the place wasn't already dark enough.

The busboy completed his task and started back to the bar. But Rusty kept staring at the corner. Then I saw it, too: a ring of blue spreading gradually in the fabric covering the ceiling. As I watched, the blue darkened to black at the edges.

I turned and saw Rusty looking back at me. His face had gone pale, his eyes filled with uncharacteristic confusion. He spoke, and I could hear the words not with my ears, but directly in my head.

"Get out, Mack. Now."

"Not without you," I mouthed.

Rusty nodded. He headed towards the side door of the lounge, a door camouflaged to blend in with the décor, and unknown to any but the staff. I followed him as quickly as I could, and we made it into the narrow corridor without mishap. Rusty grabbed my hand and pulled me through the kitchen to the base of a set of stairs.

Then he let me go.

"This wasn't supposed to happen, Mack," he said. Something is terribly wrong."

"I don't understand."

But by now I could hear shouting behind us, even this far from the lounge. Something was indeed wrong. Rusty's expression was one of profound misery.

"I think I waited too long. Sometimes the fire will start on its own, without my help."

He was interrupted by a piercing scream. I blanched.

"There's not much time, Mack!" said Rusty, pointing to his left. "Take the other stairs, past the refrigerator."

Suddenly, I saw what he was doing. He was offering me a way out. I didn't have to think twice.

I grabbed his hand again and held on tight.

"Not without you," I repeated.

Rusty nodded again, and led us both wordlessly upstairs. We emerged at a spot in the corner of the dining room. People were talking and laughing while the orchestra tuned up for the floor show, totally unaware of the danger from below.

"They can't see or hear us now," said Rusty, speaking once more inside my head. Sure enough, nobody even glanced our way as Rusty led me over to one of the artificial palm trees that ringed the floor. At the base of the "tree", Rusty pulled me close to him. Then there was nothing to do but wait.

At the other end of the club, somebody yelled. It sounded like "Fight!" I turned my head in time to see smoke billowing from the foyer, and heard the shout repeated, this time clearly.

Fire!

Flames shot into the dining room like a blowtorch. All around us, people jumped up and ran, knocking over chairs, tables, and each other in their panic. It was utter, horrific chaos.

And then, the lights went out.

"Rusty!" I cried.

Rusty grasped the sides of my head gently. I could just make out his features by the light of the encroaching fire.

"Look at me, Mack. Look only at me. Don't turn around. My voice is all you hear, my eyes are all you see."

He went on in a low voice. Some of my fear drained away, enough for me to notice that the fire, although it swirled all around, had not yet touched us.

"Long, deep breaths, Mack," Rusty instructed.

I obeyed, and was amazed to find that I could breathe at all in the smoky air.

Like a strange undertone, I heard music. Rusty was singing. Only the song came not from his throat, but somehow from his entire body, wordless and astoundingly beautiful. The volume rose. With it, so did the flames, leaping towards both of us with red tongues. One flame touched the paper leaves overhead, running down the trunk of the false tree, reaching for us.

Then there was no time left. The fire was on us.

I felt a strange rush along my skin and looked down. Fire danced across my fingers, up my arms, over my back. I felt it caress me.

There was no pain, only a growing warmth sinking into my bones. Suddenly the warmth became sexual. It felt as if a thousand orgasms were pounding through me at once. My screams blended with Rusty's song.

Then I fell headlong into velvety black night.