The Show Must Go On | Randy

9 | The Most Blessed Andy Fowler

Andy and I stood frozen in each other's arms as the knocking on the door intensified. It was not a friendly knock. It was loud and demanding and unaccompanied by a familiar voice. They had found us. 

"You need to hide. Now," I whispered urgently, coming to my senses.

"No, Rye, I'm not letting you-"

He was cut off as the knocks turned into banging. No longer asking for entry, but demanding it. If Blair was on the other side of that door as I suspected, we had a matter of seconds. 

"Now, Andy," I said again, before he could argue adding, "I'll be okay. I promise."

Truthfully, I could make no such promise. I had good faith in my powers of deception, yet I feared we might be past that point. But if a white lie could guarantee Andy's safety for just a little longer, it was worth it. 

"Okay," Andy agreed reluctantly, scanning the small room for options. He yelped quietly as an especially loud bang resonated through the room, a crack appearing in the door afterwards. 

"Get in there," I pointed to a chest in the corner of the room. It wasn't that big, but thankfully neither was Andy. He rushed over to the chest, opening it to find it full of clothes and random costume pieces of Jack's, throwing them out haphazardly to make enough room for him to fit in. I helped him close the lid over himself, throwing the clothing back on top of the chest afterwards to detract attention from it as a hiding spot. Then I took a deep breath and made my way over to the splitting piece of wood that stood between me and my potential downfall. 

A fist swung through the air the second I opened the door and I had to duck out of the way to avoid being clattered by it. As expected, Blair strode into the room, followed by Ginger, malice glinting in their snakelike eyes. 

"Beaumont," Ginger snarled, as Blair picked me up by the scruff of my collar, pinning me up against the nearest wall. 

"Where is he?" Blair boomed. 

"Where is who?" I asked innocently, fighting to keep the quiver out of my voice. 

"Don't play dumb with us, kid," Ginger threatened. "What have you done with the Songbird?"

"What, Andy? I haven't seen him." The last couple of words came out in a rasp, Blair having pushed me so hard against the wall that his knuckles impressed upon my throat, tightening my air supply. 

"The Songbird went missing halfway through his lovely evening with the Duke," Blair said, "and nobody's seen neither of you since. Seems a bit suspect to me, don't it to you?"

"Well I wouldn't know anything about that," I said, struggling to speak properly through the my compressed throat, "I haven't seen Andy since rehearsal yesterday. I simply came here to see my good friend Jack."

"You was seen in the kitchens last night with Wyatt."

"Brooklyn's a friend too."

"He says you was asking for food but it don't sound right to us. Witnesses say he was looking scared when you talked to him. Why would he be scared of you?" Blair challenged. 

"Well, I'm ashamed to admit I'm not quite myself when I'm hungry-"

"Search the room," Ginger cut me off, my heart sinking at my failure. I had hoped they wouldn't give up on the interrogation so quickly. I stared into Blair's dead black eyes, using every piece of self-control I had not to shift my gaze over to the chest in the corner of the room. 

Blair shoved me roughly into the wall as he let go of me, causing me to stumble as I hit the floor again. I considered running. Hopefully they would give chase. I would be dead, but it might give Andy a chance to escape in the meantime.