The Show Must Go On | Randy

4 | A Ridiculous Obsession

"You've done it, Pigeon!" Mikey cried, swooping Andy into a bone crushing hug, lifting him off his feet and spinning him around. Andy's sparkling wind-chime giggle resounding in the space, once again setting my heart pounding. It was quickly becoming my favourite sound.

"I can't believe it, Mike! We're finally getting our own show- and it's all thanks to this creepy handsome stranger," Andy said, looking at me with an incredulous expression.

"I'll take handsome," I said, flashing him a grin. Andy rolled his eyes at me before diverting the eye contact.

"Rye is my best mate, Mike, he's a solid guy and a very talented songwriter as you've seen," Jack said, proudly vouching for me, "but really we should all be thanking Brooklyn- he was brilliant!"

All eyes turned now to Brooklyn who I only just noticed was curled up in a corner, rocking slightly with his knees drawn up to his chest. The lad's eyes widened when our collective gaze fell upon him.

"I can't believe we did that," Brooklyn said, stunned. "But I didn't do anything, I just went along with you guys. I went to get Jack out of the cupboard and we were listening at the trapdoor. When Jack heard you were in trouble he decided to burst in. I can't believe we did that," he said, repeating the sentence again.

"You were very brave, Brooklyn," Andy said sincerely.

"Yes, it takes balls to lie to a duke that many times," I agreed.

Brooklyn blushed at the compliments. Jack ruffled his hair fondly.

"And you, my boy," Michael said, turning to me, "I don't believe we've been formerly introduced. Mikey Cobban."

"Rye Beaumont," I replied, shaking his hand.

"Mr Beaumont, you might be the luckiest man in the world or the smartest-"

"Or the horniest..." I heard Andy mutter under his breath, causing me to raise an eyebrow.

"-Either way, you're our new writer. How would you like to write the first ever great Bohemian revolutionary show?"

I considered this proposal a minute. As a humble young English lad, I didn't feel qualified to write a great show for the revolution. Suddenly the weight of what I had just done on an impulse crashed down onto me. I was determined, sure. Plucky, definitely. But never had I believed anything about me was great.

"I don't know if I can do it," I faltered.

Mikey frowned. "You know that you really don't have a choice here after what you've done, Mr Beaumont."

"Just Rye," I corrected irritably, "and I'm sorry- I've always been a believer in the revolution, of course. But there's a distinct difference between believing in something and being a mouthpiece for it. Perhaps someone at the Sapphire would do a better job." I suggested glumly, knowing that I was a terribly ordinary man compared to the weird and wonderful creatures that made up Cobban's underworld.

Mikey sighed. "My boy, do you believe in truth?"

"Yes," I said.

"Beauty?" he added.

"Yes."

"Freedom?" piped in Jack, glancing at Brooklyn.

"Yes."

"Love?" asked Brooklyn softly, looking up at Jack.

"Love?" I repeated, "Above all things I believe in love." I made eye contact with Andy, who swiftly averted his gaze, looking uncomfortable.

"Well then my son, it would seem you are perfectly qualified to write our show." Mikey said, clapping me on the back.

"But I'm not very... spectacular," I mumbled my final protest.