“Eponine was a pauper’s daughter, not a whore,” Christian commented from the bedroom doorway.
Sarah troubled herself to look at him while she slid a tiny diamond stud into her ear, “Jealousy is ugly on you.”
“Yeah, well, be that as it may, I thought you’d like to know that I’ll be moving out the day after tomorrow.”
The news surprised her. In truth, she hadn’t intended things to go this far. It was one thing to finally confess her true feelings, but another for him to leave. “Is that what you want?”
“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” he asked her. Part of him begged her with his eyes to say no. The last 24 hours had given him a chance to see how much she really did do for him and the last five minutes staring at her in that fantastically revealing dress was reminding him what she did for him in other ways. But in his heart, she could have easily said yes just the same. He’d move on, find someone else. Teach them to treat him as the man he saw himself to be.
Sarah didn’t expect an ultimatum. Yet there he was, leaning against the door, trying to appear cavalier, telling her that it was either ask him to stay or say goodbye forever. “Christian, I’m heading out to meet my agent for a rehearsal before the audition. Can’t we talk about this when I get back?”
“Sure,” he said cheerfully. “I’m just going to shoot some pool with my brother. I’m sure I won’t be out all that much later than you.”
‘Maybe this has done him some good’ she thought as she picked up a black satin clutch from her dresser. ‘With a little luck we can have that civil conversation I was hoping for tonight and put this whole ugly mess behind us.’ Sheer pale lips met his cheek as she walked past him toward the living room.
“Good luck,” he shouted as the door closed. Then he fell to the bed, holding up his head with his hands, “Glad she came around. Would have been a bitch trying to train another one.”
***** ***** *****
Jareth’s hands rose just fast enough to keep his face from connecting with the sidewalk he landed on. Street lights shown down into the alleyway he appeared in. No one seemed to take much notice, even though he remained in his Underground garb. He stood up, brushing himself off. The night wind blew cool against his revealed chest. For a moment he stopped to wish he’d packed something a bit more conducive to the conditions. Then it was off into a maze of another kind. Towering stone walls traded in for a city’s grid work.
It felt somehow larger than the Labyrinth or perhaps just more unfamiliar, but there was that same feeling of uncertainty. Not knowing which direction to head off in first or what the ultimate goal was, those were the familiarities. Bright lights were everywhere and yet the city was dark. Mortals lined the streets all on journeys of their own. There was dancing and singing. For a moment it occurred to Jareth that much of the human race behaved like fey. They enjoyed similar entertainments, libations and smoking. The culture distracted him for a moment. When he refocused on his mortal in specific, he thought, ‘how odd his Sarah should live in such a place as this. ‘ Seemed as if only yesterday he sat on the post by the lake watching her recite from her book. Until the sky opened up and drenched them both as they flew through and over rural suburbia to the mortal castle she shared with her father, step-mother and half brother.
Had she really come from such a creamy beige beginning to this place, filled with its decadent colors and luscious textures, polluted by the same depravity they found dancing at the Underground ball. Sarah had fled that night, terrified by it all. Now she craved it or so it would seem. Jareth looked around for someone to ask questions of. They all seemed preoccupied. Talking into plastic hand pieces, shouting at each other, lovers kissed, hands venturing where even the brazen Goblin King dared only to go in the privacy of a bed chamber.
Turning the corner, he met into something solid. “Junk lady,” he said curiously. There was a heap before him, cradled in a metal basket and mounted on wheels.
From the other side of the heap someone shouted back, “Who you calling junk lady?”
If he could be nothing else, the Goblin King could be charming, “Pardon me miss.” He reached to take her hand, dropping a kiss on the back of it. Too bad fey had such a heightened senses. Not since his last visit close to the Bog of Eternal Stench had he smelled anything so fragrant. “I came ‘round that corner in such haste that your petite frame escaped my vision entirely,” Jareth told her, the woman’s sausage fingers still in his grasp.
At this the woman giggled a bit, pulling away her hand to coyly cover her face. “Well you should watch where your going,” she said with only mock irritation this time.
“Problem is I don’t know where I’m going?”
“Whatcha mean you don’t know where you’re going?”
A nervous laugh replaced his silent smile. “It’s true, dear woman,” he spoke gently, “I haven’t a clue where I’m going, or where I am for that matter?” She cocked one of her eyebrows at him. Jareth couldn’t help thinking that if humans aged as fey did, this junk lady had to feel a thousand years old. When her eyes moved all the wrinkles of her face jumped with them. But beneath it all he saw something young and tender that had been mistreated. The streets grew cold in a new way.
“You’re one of those new fangled method actors ain’t ya?”
The Goblin King’s head moved in a slow nod. He was still fascinated by what he saw inside this weathered woman.
“I thought so,” she smiled showing a few missing teeth. “Now let me give you a bit of advice, the eighties are over. Although it never hurts to make an impression in New York, I’d say lose the teased my mullet look, but in those clothes, well they just might take you at the Peppermill.”
“They call this New York?” he asked not hearing anything else.
“Oh, yeah, I get it.” She reached into her cart, “Listen honey, don’t waste it all on me.” She pulled out a business card and handed it to Jareth. “Now if you hurry along and wait at the back door, when the auditions are over they throw out all the hors d’oeuvres and you can try to get their attention then.”
It came to him then that this was not the life she’d chosen. She did not live in the street, collecting junk the way his junk lady in the Underground did. Instead she lived by the street, everything she owned was in this cart between them. Sorrow filled him.
“Can’t get in the front door without an appointment,” she told him, mistaking the look of compassion for one of offense. Her hand reached out to him again, this time a small spinach square in her palm. “Go on, they were throwing them out of the club across the street. I got four of them myself.”
Raising a black leather glove and donning a crooked smile, Jareth politely said, “No thank you. I just ate yesterday.”
“Well you don’t have to brag about it,” she grumbled as she pushed her cart away.
If he’d have had his magic, he’d have done something for the kind woman. Maybe even make her outside appearance reflect what he saw inside. Looking down at the card she’d given him, Jareth spun it end over end. In the back of his subconscious he heard an echo, “Learn to rely on others.”
“In that case,” the Goblin King wondered aloud, “I wonder how one gets to East 16th from here.”
***** ***** *****
“I can’t do this Stuart,” Sarah shrieked as she stepped into the rehearsal hall.
He poured a glass of water and handed it to her, “You’re just nervous because it’s been so long since you’ve auditioned for something this huge.”
Gulps of water soothed her throat. Stuart was garish, like all agents, but he really believed in Sarah and when he spoke to her, she fed off his confidence. Setting her glass down, she smoothed her hands over her dress. ‘You can’t look like this if you don’t intend to steal the show,’ she told herself. Sarah took her place at the microphone and from the first note Stuart knew he would showcase a star tonight. The smile that spread across his lips was one part confidence and one part cocky.
“You can’t lose Sarah,” Stuart told her, taking her hand to help her down from the rehearsal stage. “Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight? Something’s different about you and I don’t just mean a new dress and shoes.”
Embarrassed by his compliment, she looked away. “Nothing, it’s nothing. I just know how much I need to ace this audition. I’m putting my best foot forward.”
“Well it’s bringing the best of the rest of you along for the ride.” Sarah fed her arm through Stuart’s extended elbow and allowed him to steer her toward the main stage. “Go on,” he gave her a little shove. “Try it out. We’re still half an hour ahead of the producer. Get used to the way it feels now and by the time you sing you’ll be able to act like you own it.”
Her heals clicked on the polished planks that made up the stage. It was the largest stage she’d ever stood on. Even bigger than the one she graced when she was dancing CATS. Fear strangled her as she looked out into all the empty seats. Les Misérables was no small show. If Sarah got the part those seats would be full, full of people with high expectations for her. Could she live up to that kind of pressure night after night, performance after performance. She closed her eyes. At first she felt like she might cry. Tears were threatening beneath her lids, but a very unexpected thing chased them away. All around her Sarah could see the set dressing for the show. She could see spotlights mimicking streetlights behind their yellow gels. She spun in circles her arms outreached taking hold of light posts that weren’t really there, “On my own...” she sang.
Stuart stood in amazement listening to the power in her voice. It was a new confidence that hadn’t been there before and it wasn’t coming from him either. This was coming from Sarah. She radiated like a beacon in the night sky and he had watched her come alive tonight. As she finished the first verse, his hands met in thunderous applause. “Brava,” he cried.
Eyes snapped open and did the best they could to focus on the one man house that had brought an end to her show. Sarah gasped. If ever she had believed in magic. The room around her was still empty, the stage dark, the seats unfilled. Maybe Hoggle was right, she needed to believe in magic and more importantly, she needed to believe in herself. “There’s no way they won’t pick me,” she yelped into the rafters as she thought to herself, ‘had anything in life ever felt this good.”
***** ***** *****
City block after city block Jareth read the street signs, he surveyed the buildings. His fey hearing was alert and sensitive. A half dozen young men were only a couple of blocks away, perhaps they could tell him where to find this Peppermill Theater described on the card he still held in his hand. As Jareth got closer to the men he could see that they wore jeans and leather jackets. Each of them was smoking a cigarette and three of them had beer bottles in their hands. He glanced down at himself, “This ought to be good for a laugh,” he said continuing his approach. “Begging your pardon, but might any of you be able to tell me the way to the Peppermill?”
“Yeah man I can show you the way to the Peppermill,” one of them called out.
“Splendid!”
“Get back on the yellow brick road and don’t stop until everything around you is black and white.” His statement was followed by laughter and pointing.
“Yellow brick, really, I’ve only seen red bricks in my travels through your city.”
His naivety only made them laugh harder. One of the men who’d been holding a beer bottle was now on the ground. “What they don’t let you use the dressing rooms anymore, now you chumps gotta parade the streets in your costumes?” A fresh face came walking out of the shadows toward the Goblin King. He looked a little softer than the rest of them. He tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out.
“Yes, that’s it! I’ve been locked out of my dressing room and I’ve got to get back to the theater, but I’ve gotten myself lost.” Jareth made up an explanation as quickly as he could.
“Don’t buy his shit Tony,” one of the others cried out. “He’s just like the rest of them, coming down here acting like they’re better than we are because they play in those fancy theaters. You could out sing one of those bastards any day of the week.”
“Tony, your name is Tony,” Jareth said. “I’m sure you sing like a lark, but I really just need to get to the Peppermill.”
“Whatta ya say we make a deal tall, blonde and hairy?” He prowled around Jareth, eyeing him up and down, making it a point to show that for now he had the upper hand. Jareth took him rather seriously. Quarreling with a mortal, correction with seven mortals, broke the Triumvirate’s rules.
“I’m listening,” the Goblin King arched an eyebrow.
“My uncle’s shop is right in there,” Tony pointed behind himself. “He’s a tailor. I’ll get him to give you something normal to wear and in exchange you’ll take me to the Peppermill with you and get me an audition.”
“An audition?” Jareth asked.
Tony grabbed the lapels of the Goblin King’s jacket and pulled him eye to eye, “You think I ain’t good enough?”
“No, no, no. I’m sure you’re plenty good. An audition it is then.”
“Let’s go,” the young man said leading Jareth into his uncle’s shop.
There were suits of all styles from tuxedos to tab collars and back again. Jareth’s gloves smoothed over the shoulders of a grey herringbone jacket. Tony and his uncle had been talking in the corner and the older gentleman approached his newest customer, “My boy tells me you’re getting him into the Peppermill.”
“I suppose I am,” Jareth told him.
“Names Vic,” he grinned extending his hand.
The Goblin King shook it firmly, “Jareth,” he replied.
“What kind of name is Jareth?” the old man laughed.
“Guess you might say it’s a family name.”
Vic heard something in the way he pronounced his a’s, “You got an accent something awful.”
“I’m not native to New York,” Jareth told him.
“Well no one will know that when I finish with you,” Vic took the herringbone jacket off the mannequin. “Take off your jacket.” Jareth removed his coat. His blousy painter’s shirt ruffled down his chest, the sleeves covering his gloves. “I can see we’re going to have to start at the basement and work our way up. “Tony,” he called, “bring your uncle a shirt, a sixteen.”
The young man who seemed to dominate his friends was instantly on the heals of his uncle. Tony was already half dressed. He was wearing brown suit pants a cream colored shirt tucked into the waist band. His cuffs were unbuttoned and his collar raised, a silk tie around his shoulders. “Here ya go,” he announced as he passed the shirt to his uncle.
Jareth slid out of his more elaborate clothing and into the plain white shirt being shoved into his hands. He buttoned three of the buttons and fussed with the collar. “Doesn’t seem to hang right,” he told Vic.
Screwing his face up, the tailor looked at Jareth before he did up the rest of the buttons and turned up the collar. The Goblin King grabbed at the collar and pouted out his lips, “The neck is too tight,” he complained.
“It’s fine,” Vic told him. “Now, let’s find you a nice tie to go with this jacket.” Once the tailor had moved, Jareth caught sight of himself in a mirror on the wall. It wasn’t so bad, not like he thought it would be. He tugged on the sleeves, “I can make this work.”
“Here you are,” the old man tossed the strip of silk over his head. It was black and had a subtle silver design running through it. The knot jabbed him in the throat but once Vic turned down the collar, it grew more comfortable. Holding up the grey herringbone once more, he motioned for Jareth to try it on. It slid easily over his shoulders and the fabric was weighty. It felt good on. The sleeves were just the right length and the silver of the tie complemented it nicely. “Have a look.” Vic moved out of the way again.
One eyebrow raised, as he took in his reflection. Curiosity turned into a smug glare as he smoothed his hands over the jacket. “This is quite nice,” he told Tony’s uncle. “Thank you.”
“Where you going?” Vic asked him when Jareth headed for the door. “We need to get you some pants and a sensible pair of shoes.”
Half an hour later, the Goblin King had been transformed. His make up washed away, his tights, now made by Armani. Overtop his amulet a silk tie covered that part of his chest that would normally remain exposed. There were any number of pockets where Jareth could hide the crystal he’d brought along with him for safety’s sake. He chose an interior breast pocket thinking it was the least conspicuous. Tony stared at him in disbelief, the difference was remarkable. “Hey,” he said when he finished taking in the new Goblin King, “why not take off that idiotic wig.”
“Wig?” Jareth questioned.
Tony reached up and yanked on his long blonde locks.
“I must ask you to stop this,” he remarked grabbing the young man’s hand, “before I become angry.”
“Holy shit. That’s real!”
“Very much so,” Jareth said as he reshaped his mane.
“Uncle Vic, you any good at cutting hair?”
“Cutting hair?” the Goblin king repeated.
When they turned to face Vic, silver blades reflected the light from the room and Jareth was not pleased with the look in his eyes.
***** ***** *****
“Now nobody’s gonna mess with you. You can walk right into the Peppermill and they’ll respect you.” Tony said to Jareth as they walked down the street toward the theater. “Now remember the plan alright. You’re my agent Jeremy. Now the producer will be here with his assistant, but it’s usually not the same guy who talks to the agents so act like you set the whole thing up days ago with someone called Skip or Bud or something like that. Then you gotta sell me, because he’s gonna think we’re up to no good. So you tell him how I’ve done a whole line of good shows, South pacific, Chicago, Phantom.” Tony was getting excited at just the idea of singing for a real New York producer. He’d heard about these auditions a month ago and just by luck this fellow that he met, this night of all nights, could be his ticket in. It was like it was meant to be. “You got all that?”
Jareth nodded but didn’t speak.
“I said do you got all that?” Tony repeated, the desperation in his voice growing. Then it caught his attention, much the same as it had distracted Jareth. The neon lights that formed letters high into the New York skyline, their beams shining down on the men in the street below. Peppermill. Even to a fey it seemed magical.
While Jareth might not have understood auditions and theaters, he knew what it was like to chase a dream, to want what seemed unattainable. There as he looked at the face of the young man who’d changed him so dramatically, he read the same expression he’d seen on his own face. Tonight he would help this man fulfill his quest and the Supreme One willing, it would lead him further on his own. Jareth wrapped a grey glove around the handle of the door and pulled it open, “Clients first,” he offered bowing low. Tony smiled as he walked through.
Almost immediately they were met by one of the producer’s lackeys. “Wait a minute,” he said in a particularly nasally voice, “these auditions are by invitation only.”
Tony nudged the fey. “Ah, right you are my friend. I did receive an invitation. The boy’s name was Skip.”
“Don’t know no Skip.”
“And you might be?” Jareth asked him.
“Folks call me Buddy,” the producer’s assistant told him.
Both Tony and Jareth wiped a brow when they heard this, glad that the Goblin King had chosen wisely. “Buddy, I know what it is. You’ve been working for the man a while now haven’t you?” Buddy nodded. “He’s gone and hired this greenie to manage his appointments. Break in some new blood he can pay minimum and work you out of the picture. But see what he doesn’t realize is that you’re the one who keeps it all together. Skippy boy didn’t even remember to write my client here into the calendar.” Jareth motioned at Tony as he smoothly stepped past Buddy. “But don’t you worry,” he said shaking a finger at the assistant while Buddy made his way to the front of the auditorium, “I’m going to tell him all about that inefficient Skip and how it almost cost him a star. How he owes his new leading male all to you Buddy.” Jareth finished the speech with a sure wink.
“Yeah, you do that would you pal,” the assistant called after the fey. “Sonofabitch never appreciates a damn thing I do for him anyway.”
When Jareth managed to catch up to Tony again the young man slapped him hard on the back. “You were fantastic. Where’d you learn all that fancy bullshit? You really could be an agent you know, but nah, you’d rather act. I know. Bug bit me bout a year and a half ago. If I could get this gig, man, I’d be able to leave the streets. Earn myself a real living and owe it all to you. You’re a good friend Jar...emy. I couldn’t have even got through the front door without you.”
Jareth smiled. Auditions, singing, it all made sense. Tony was an actor and auditions had something to do with acting. He peered at the stage before them. The velvet curtains reminded him of home and the follow spot illuminating the floorboards reminded him of Sarah. His heart felt like it might crack. “Just don’t waste this chance,” he said softly. Whether it was directed at Tony or if he were talking more to himself was a mystery.
Buddy’s hand was on Tony’s shoulder and it made him jump. “What’s your last name kid?”
“Monroe,” he told him. “Tony Monroe.”
“Well Monroe, you’re up. Break a leg.”
He looked back at Jareth as he headed down the aisle, “Thanks man. Thanks a lot.”
Those were good words. Finally the Goblin King could see that. It was nice to say, but it was more rewarding to hear. He felt himself swelling with pride as the young man took the stage. Jareth settled into a seat crossing his legs and resting his chin on his hand. The shadows hid his smile. What a pity? The Goblin King had a beautiful smile.
“Hey, my name is Tony Monroe,” he said squinting into the follow spot. “I’d like to thank you for agreeing to see me today. I’m gonna audition for the role of Marius Pontmercy today and I wanna do that by singing Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.” To listen to him speak no professional in his right mind would have offered him a spot as third bus stop patron on the right. Then he cleared his throat and sipped his water before he opened is mouth and began to sing, “There’s a grief that can’t be spoken,” he hung his head. “There’s a pain goes on and one...”
The notes rang from his throat like a choir of bells. Knowing where he’d come from, it was obvious he couldn’t have taken a lesson a day in his life. His talents were natural and it showed. Mortal magic Jareth thought was always something more, something more like what he did, creating crystals or transporting about without having to walk, but what was going on before him and how it felt inside him was more magic than any crystal he’d ever cast. Tony’s eyes were a light and though he’d never lived through a war himself and had probably never found himself a sole survivor of a fallen barricade, it was impossible to tell. In the audience, you wept for him. You felt his pain.
Jareth’s gloves pounded together when the last note rang, “...where my friends will sing no more.” Tony’s voice wavered and he stood still as stone.
Buddy looked at Jareth and drew his clip board across his neck. Not sure what he meant by the gesture, he halted his applause. When the motion stopped, the Goblin King guessed he had done as the man intended. Tony didn’t care. He loved the sound of applause, even when it wasn’t the professional response, it washed over him like summer rays of sunshine warming him noticeably.
Leaning into his assistant’s ear, the producer mumbled a few words and Buddy stood, “Have a seat, we’ll call you to sing in a duet once we’ve completed the remainder of the auditions.”
Tony bowed in their direction and hurriedly took a seat next to Jareth. “Man, I know I got this gig. I know it.” His front teeth bit at his lower lip as he tried contain himself. Finally he settled in to watch the remainder of the auditions. There were only two others auditioning for Marius. Both were formidable opponents, but none had what Tony had. That was fate. Fate working for him for once in his miserable life. At the end of the male auditions five men were asked to leave. Tony remained, seated next to Jareth.
The female auditions were about to begin. A small blonde woman took the stage. She wore a full blue dress. “My name is Casey Bakay. I’ll be auditioning for the role of Fantine by singing for you Fantine’s Death.” After her came others who wanted to be Cosette, a handful of dancers who wanted to be singing whores, a few older women that liked the outlandish style of Mrs. Thénardier. They were each captivating in their own way, some better suited based on looks than others. Others just more talented, but sorely couldn’t have been transformed into the part they sought even with make up and costume.
It was growing late. Jareth was itching to leave so that he could get back to finding Sarah. He tried excusing himself, but Tony wouldn’t hear of it. “You can’t go, you’re my good luck charm.”
With a sigh and a smile, the Goblin King sat back and focused on the stage so he could hide his disappointment from Tony.
“Thank you all for inviting me here tonight.” The voice was familiar to his fey ears. “My name is Sarah Williams and I will be singing On My Own as I audition for the role of Eponine.”
“Sweet Spriggans!” Jareth shouted.
“Ssshhh,” Buddy chastised.
On stage, Sarah remained focused. Nothing was more important than what she was about to do. Not even a mouthy opponent from the shadows. She smiled sweetly, rubbing her sheer lips one over the other and then parted them slightly, barely enough to breath as she whispered into the microphone, “And now I’m all alone again, nowhere to turn no one to go to, without a home, without a friend, without a face to say hello to. And now the night is near, and I can make believe he’s here.”
Her last note was throaty and deep. Jareth was stunned by what he saw and what he heard. He rested on the edge of his seat wanting to jump up out of the chair and rush to the stage to take her in up close. Instead, the Goblin King was stuck in his seat, hidden from her by shadows, obscured by the lights that shown only on her and reflected on the waves of her gown until everything before her seemed to dance with each move she made. Lost in the sound of her voice and captivated by her look, he let her words surround him. Sarah sang of a one sided love, of an interest in life overlooked her, but in her mind he stood beside her. His stride in time with hers.
“I love him but everyday I’m learning, all my life I’ve only been pretending,” Sarah’s hands balled at her sides as she forced the powerful notes. “Without me, his world would go on turning, a world that’s full of happiness that I have never known.” Her voice rang through the auditorium, the tone clear the sound sharp. A quick breath and she returned to the throaty whisper she’d begun her performance with. “I love him, I love him, I love him, but only on my own.”
The Goblin King wanted to stand, wanted to run to her and tell her that her love was returned. That she no longer had to pretend. He was here and wanted her as much as he ever had. “Brava,” the producer cried as he took to his feet. “Those of you who’ve come to audition for Eponine are excused. I have found her.”
Jareth shrunk back in his seat. He was happy for her success, but a bit embarrassed by the way he’d lost himself in the words of a play. “I’d get to sing with her if I bag this audition, man” Tony told him.
Buddy took the stage, announcing that there would be a ten minute break between solo and duet performances. Sarah ran to Stuart, furious she asked him, “There are duet auditions! Stuart!” Then it occurred to her that she had nothing to fear, her’s was the only part guaranteed in the first round. “Oh Stuart,” she cried again, the tears visible in her eyes, “I got it.” She threw her arms around his neck and hugged him.
“I knew you could do it doll, I knew you could.”
With a great deal of jealousy and anger, Jareth watched the exchange. Tony grabbed him by the elbow, “I’m going to congratulate her, maybe I could ask her to sing A Little Fall of Rain with me.” The other men asked to participate in the duet auditions were intimated with her talent and cozied up to the Cosettes. “Come on,” he tugged at the Goblin King. He attempted to resist, but ended up giving in when he remembered how different he looked thanks to Vic. They crossed the floor, heads high, one of them filled with confidence and one of them filled with dread.
“Ms. Williams,” Tony extended his hand.
Stuart stepped in to receive the greeting, “And you are?”
“Tony Monroe. I was auditioning for the role of Marius.”
“I’ve never seen you in the theater circles before,” Sarah said plainly.
“Finally got me a decent agent,” Tony reasoned, pulling Jareth closer. “Ms. Williams, this is Jeremy...” he stumbled, realizing that the Goblin King had never told him his last name.
“Underwood. Jeremy Underwood, charmed and delighted,” he said taking Sarah’s hand and brushing the back with his lips.
Thrown by his greeting, Sarah fumbled not only her words but her attempt to reach for Stuart. “Likewise,” her trembling hands caught her agent by his tie and yanked him forward. “This is Stuart.” Sarah’s attention returned to Jareth, “Have we met somewhere before?”
“New York’s a small city, we were bound to have met sooner or later,” he responded without thinking about how strange it might sound.
Tony eyed his companion, “Yeah, so anyway, Ms. Williams, I thought we might sing A Little Fall of Rain for the duet, that is if you wouldn’t mind singing with someone so, you know, not as good as you.”
“My pleasure,” Sarah told him as she and Jareth’s eyes stayed locked.
Buddy took the microphone once more and called everyone back. He asked that Sarah and her partner take the stage first so that the new Eponine could leave as early as possible so that she rest up for tomorrow. Like a true gentlemen, Tony led her to the stage. Together they began to sing. Both faces expressing all the emotions of a song sung between a woman who loved a man, who didn’t know he loved her back until just this moment. There was that funny feeling inside Jareth’s chest again. It ached and tickled at the same time.
“You would live a hundred years, if I could show you how,” Tony sang, cradling her to his shoulder, his hand stroking the few strands of Sarah’s up do which she had allowed to frame her face.
In portrayed weakness, Sarah countered, “The rain can’t hurt me now.”
“I won’t desert you know,” Tony’s voice promised.
Jareth closed his eyes. Christ they made it look easy. Standing in front of a roomful of strangers effortlessly confessing their deepest emotions as casually as they said hello. Silently he cursed his own deformities. He was fey, every fey had one. Little was flawed with Jareth’s outward appearance, that is to say if anything. However, he lacked a great deal of emotion and that was to be his imperfection and it stunted him worse than any magic, worse than even iron when it came to Sarah.
Having one’s meditation disrupted was never pleasant, but as the producer stood to shower his accolades upon the duo Jareth nearly tumbled to the floor. “Such chemistry! We have found our Marius. This will be by far the best production I have ever done.” He ran onto the stage throwing an arm around each of the newly discovered talents. “Off with you my dears,” he kissed their foreheads, “rest your voices. Rehearsals will begin tomorrow!” He laughed childishly at himself.
Tony embraced Sarah, “I can’t wait,” he told her. “Thank you so much for singing with me. I know that’s why I got the part. You’re amazing,” Tony said, “like a piano only much smaller and with lips.” Sarah grinned at his awkwardness and waved to him as Stuart guided her away from what he thought was an overzealous young upstart who wanted to ride Sarah’s coat tails to recognition, much like someone else he knew.
By the time Tony made it back to where Jareth had been, the chair was empty. “Didn’t even give me a chance to say thanks.” He walked home with a bit of a spring, eager to tell his uncle all that had happened this night.
Outside the theater Stuart was trying to convince Sarah to go out for a drink to celebrate her victory. “Thank you Stuart,” she declined kissing his cheek, “I appreciate everything you’ve done, but I’d rather just head home. I’m a bit wiped out from all the excitement.”
“Suit yourself then Sarah darling, I’ll have your drink for you.” Stuart gently draped her wrap over her shoulder and beamed at her. “I’m so proud of you,” he said before he turned to walk away.
Sarah looked around her. No one was out and the chill in the air had no effect on the warmth her victory had brought to her heart. Her feet swept over the street below her. ‘No cab tonight,’ she thought. She felt so light she could have flown home. “On my own...” she sang the entire way back to the apartment.
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