 |
| "I hate holidays," Justin growled. "Seems like the city grows twice in population every year. Same old stuff: sales, crowds, crime...makes me sick." |
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| Russa rubbed her arms to generate a bit of warmth against the biting cold air. "Let's see...on Santa's list I think you'll be placed somewhere between Dr. John Becker and Ebenezer Scrooge." |
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| Justin pinned the red Santa Claus hat carefully into his Plato wig, adjusting it in a mirror. Glancing up, he saw the sky still the same light gray as when he woke up that morning. It looked like it would snow any minute. When he finally got the hat to stay, he turned to face her. |
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| "They could at least have had the Macy's Christmas Parade in December!" |
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| Russa smiled around her shiver, crossing her arms. "Aw, c'mon, Jus. Get in the spirit. It's never too early to start celebrating." |
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| "Actually, it is." He gestured at the enormous speakers around them attached to their stands. "It's only the day after Thanksgivin'. By the time Christmas finally rolls aroun' I'll be sick of it." |
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| Russa just laughed. Though the temperature was about thirty degrees, nothing was going to delay the big parade sponsored by Macy's. The managers of the Broadway production of CATS had bought a spot among the floats, thinking the publicity would do them some good. Almost the entire cast would slink down the streets, stopping here and there to sing a little bit, dance a small routine, and mess around with the audience, decked fully in their costumes...which were poor protection against the cold. Both genders were advised to wear extra padding of leotards under their costumes, thought it only helped a little. |
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| Once you start dancing, Kelsey had told them, you'll warm up. |
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| "Let's just get it over with," Justin moaned, flicking the white ball of his hat. "I doubt this thing'll stay put after a couple backflips." He glanced around at the gathered cat dancers. Several of them were shivering in the nippy wind, but were excited about their parade appearance."Where's Mike?" |
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| Elise looked up from where she did some last-minute stretches. "Mike, Anthony, and Lydia are gonna be singing in the float behind us...lucky for them, they get to wear overcoats." She shivered, rubbing her arms as she remained in her split a moment. "Morgan's standing in for Mike." |
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| True to her word, Morgan came bounding up as though on cue, decked fully in his own Munkustrap costume. The cold didn't seem to bother him at all, as he stood tall and proud. The weather never seemed to have much affect on him. Justin himself wasn't overly bothered by the cold, but his body involuntarily shivered on its own. |
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| "C'mon cats, we're about to start," Morgan barked. "Get into position." |
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| "An' break out the whips," Justin mumbled under his breath as he got into his assigned dancing spot between Leva and Daniel. Daniel looked at him curiously, but Justin's Plato face just grinned. "That's what it's gonna take to keep me dancin' in this weather." |
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| A cheery, melodic Christmas music began blaring over the speakers, and the cats were off. |
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| Justin and the other dancers kept up a rhythmic three-step dance and hand movements as they strutted down the street, smiling widely at the crowd lined on both sides, sweat rising from their worked bodies as steam in the cold air, along with their breath in puffs of clouds. |
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| "Jellicle Cats come out tonight!" they sang, one verse at a time. After each verse they would stop, perform a quick combination of high kicks, backflips, and leaps, then halt again, and either have a chance to rest or play on the sidelines with the watching kids while Michael, Anthony, and Lydia broke into classic Christmas songs. |
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| "O holy night, the stars are brightly shining," Michael's lovely voice rang out, switching off lines with the Grizabella and Old Deuteronomy player. Their tenor, soprano, and bass voices blended wonderfully, cutting the holiday air like a sweet knife. |
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| Justin smiled widely as he approached the lines of spectators, singling out a little girl probably no older than eight, standing in a bundle of overcoat and scarf. The bright red scarf about her neck hung loosely after being wrapped around twice, and by curling his hands in the manner of paws Justin swatted at the tasseled edge. The girl looked a little startled at first, and backed away. Justin stage pouted and pawed disheartedly at his Santa hat end. The girl's mother smiled and said something to her, and timidly she came back out from behind her skirt. Crouching on all fours, though careful not to scrape his unitard knees on the rough pavement, Justin crept forward again, seeming just as nervous as the girl, who carefully extended her hand. Smiling and 'purring', Justin rubbed his yak wig up against her. The girl laughed and grabbed at Justin's hat. The Plato performer had time for a quick snapshot with the girl before he had to get back in line for more dancing. |
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| "Thank God that's over," Justin slumped down into a seat just inside the Winter Garden Theatre, relaxing in its warmth compared to outside. He leaned his head back and tore away the Santa hat from his wig, tossing it to the floor. |
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| Elise stepped over the fluffy red and white garment and picked it up, staring at Justin. "Of all people, Jus. Don't you know how to have a little bit of fun?" She ran the long tip between her Sillabub hands. Justin rolled his eyes. |
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| "You have your version of fun, Leester, and I have mine." |
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| She threw the hat at him. "Don't call me that!" She giggled as the hat landed in his face, then left to go change back into her normal clothes. |
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| Justin sat still for a moment, staring at the hat, feeling its soft velvety material between his almost-numb fingers. He wanted to rest for a minute before getting up again...his legs were exhausted. |
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| Justin reluctantly opened his eyes. Staring into his face, the paint only emphasizing its graveness, was Jonathan Callery, not yet out of costume. |
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| Jonathan plopped down into a foyer seat beside Justin, setting his elbows on his knees. "D'you think you could do me a big favor?" |
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| Jonathan waited a moment. His hesitance made Justin uneasy, the Gus player usually being an open and upbeat guy, and he looked up, his painted on Plato smile down in worry. |
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| "You're not doing anything Christmas morning, are you?" |
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| Another long pause. "Well, um, you remember my niece, Demona? The CATS fan?" |
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| Justin didn't have to rack his memory for long to remember. "Yeah." |
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| "Well, um, she's going to come an' stay with me and Sarah for awhile, and the only flight we were able t' get with the holidays was on the twenty-sixth. We're gonna go pick her up, and...well, you know what a fan she is of the show..." he waited until Justin nodded. "If you weren't doing anything I was wondering if you'd mind coming along...?" Justin was about to answer but Jonathan's rambling went further. "I mean if you've got plans that's fine...I just thought since you don't--" |
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| "--have any family to celebrate over," Justin finished his statement for him, nodding with no hint of feeling. "Sure, I'll go. Not like I have anythin' better t' do." He said the last with a touch of irony, though he was glad when Jonathan didn't seem to catch it. |
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| "Thanks a lot, Jus. This'll mean a lot to her." His face was beaming. He got up to leave. |
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| "Why's she comin' t' stay awhile?" |
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| Jonathan halted, his face faltering. When he turned back to Justin, his face was grave again. "You want it frank?" |
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| "Alright." He took a breath. "My brother's been arrested for domestic abuse an' for dealing drugs, and his wife's been an unemployed junkie for years. To be blunt social services won't let Demona live with them anymore. She's coming to live with me'n Sarah." |
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| Justin was sorry he'd asked, and lowered his head. "Oh...okay. I'll be there." |
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| The month seemed passed quickly. Between the photo shoot for CATS and the holiday specials, and his ever-routine way of life, time seemed to fly as the days were already short with winter. Justin slept a lot, and began to eat less, but he wasn't alarmed. The cold season sometimes did that to him. |
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| Over the years he'd lived alone, Christmas became less and less of an event to him. He usually spent it with Michael, who was also alone in this big city, no family, at a nice restaurant over the greasiest, fattiest, best-tasting meal they allowed themselves once a year at this time. It was also the only time Justin allowed himself to drink. The night passed quietly for them as they watched the goings-on in Times Square through the window of a warm restaurant table they sat at, talking quietly over their drinks. That was Justin's life: quiet and uneventful, and he liked it. |
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| Justin woke up the next morning with a horrible headache. Grunting, he dragged himself out of bed, landing on the floor in an undignified heap. Duke's warm, wet tongue soon did its work and got him going enough to take a cold shower and get dressed. Then the phone rang. |
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| "We'll be by in about fifteen minutes with the truck," Jonathan said. Justin clenched his eyes shut as the deep rumble of his voice vibrated his throbbing head, but kept quiet. |
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| "Yeah, sure...I'll be waitin'..." And still he refused to take any painkillers. |
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| "This one should be it," Sarah, Jonathan's wife of fifteen years, headed the two men through the busy Laguardia airport. Stopping across the carpeted hall from the correct gate, she clasped her much taller and thinner husband's hand in anticipation. "When was it we last saw Demona? When she was ten?" |
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| Jonathan nodded. "Four years ago. I doubt we'll even recognize her." |
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| Justin didn't think so. Demona was recognizable the moment he first laid eyes on her. A fiery red mane of hair tumbled down her back, pulled into a loose ponytail, that stood out prominently from the black CATS T-shirt she wore under a thick gray wolf jacket. Her dark blue eyes were framed by a pair of round gold-rimmed glasses, and the faded jeans that she wore with holes in both knees defined her as a definite tomboy. She was maybe a little short for her age, but long-limbed and lean. Her face lit up considerably as she sighted Jonathan and Sarah. |
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| Jonathan caught her in his arms and twirled her around. She couldn't have been over fourteen. |
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| "Hey, kiddo! How are ya?" |
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| "Okay," she said, the usual teenager voice of I'm-independent-of-course-everything-is-fine. He set her back down, and she casually brushed back a loose strand of hair. She froze all of a sudden when she spotted Justin slouching nearby. Eyes wide, she looked from him, to Jonathan, back to him, and back to her uncle. "You're tellin' me you brought...?!?" Her voice died as her mouth dropped open and she stared, wide-eyed, at the tall male dancer. |
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| Jonathan held her gently by the shoulders and turned her to look at him. Justin couldn't help but smile. "You know me: full of surprises." He winked at his colleague. "Go say hello. He may be Macavity, but he doesn't scratch." |
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| Justin shifted his weight as Demona carefully approached him as one would their long-lost father. |
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| "J-Justin Fisher?" she asked, more like a gasp. Justin nodded and stuck out his hand. |
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| "Nice t' meet ya, Demona. Jonathan's told me a lot about ya." |
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| Demona took his hand gratefully, her eyes never leaving his face. "Jeez...I remember seein' you perform when I was six. You were so awesome! You were Mungojerrie then, and yer still...here." She spoke as though she couldn't believe it. "I have some friends on the Internet that talk about you a awful lot. You've been so many characters! An' now you're...Macavity." She grinned widely. "No one believes me when I tell 'em my uncle's Gus." Her enormous grin turned toward Jonathan, and she hugged him again. |
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| Sarah patted her fluffy red and gold mane gently. "You'll like it here in New York, honey." |
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| Justin grinned, unable to contain himself. "And with some o' the photos of you an' th' cast you'll be showin' yer buddies they'll have no choice but t' believe ya." |
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| Demona could only be described as in paradise as she gazed in wonder at the junkyard set of the Winter Garden. Since she'd first seen the show when she was about six it had entranced her, becoming nearly all her heart desired, until now, she stood here, with her uncle who performed in the very show she loved, meeting the cast she idolized. |
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| The CATS cast and understudies were all too pleased to meet her. She'd written several letters to pretty much all of them, having been delivered through her uncle, and received many replies. She was also a fairly good artist and writer, and sent them some of her (what they all referred to as) work. Justin at that moment remembered the drawing he'd carefully stored in his drawer at home: a pencil sketch of Skimbleshanks in all his glory, given to him when he still played that role. |
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| "Jonathan," Morgan called suddenly from the foyer doorway. "Phonecall." |
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| Jonathan acknowledged the dance captain with a nod and nudged his niece. "Listen, why doncha go wait in the truck and I'll be out in awhile, then we go out for lunch?" |
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| Demona bounced away eagerly, only after purchasing a front-row ticket for that very Monday night's show. Where she'd gotten the money, Justin could only guess. Before he would let the cast go home, Morgan addressed them from the stage, pointing out a few things about the messed-up holiday schedule. Justin leaned beside Michael as the dance captain spoke. |
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| "Can't help but feel sorry for her," Michael mumbled, keeping his eyes on Morgan. |
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| Justin shrugged lightly. "It's a cruel world. At least we kin do somethin' t' make her happy." |
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| "Look up CATS Fan in a dictionary and I'll bet her picture would be right there." |
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| Rehearsals were put off for the rest of the day until that night's show, and the cast slowly made their way home: to nap, eat, or waste time until six thirty. Justin slung his bag over his shoulder as he stood outside a moment, buttoning up his tattered old jacket against the cold. He stopped when he heard sniffling from a nearby green truck whose doors were hanging open. |
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| If there was one thing Justin couldn't stand, it was seeing a kid cry. He never thought he could have made it as a father. Seeing Demona crouched in the open truck sniffling stabbed his heart, and he couldn't resist but to saunter over quietly and lean against the side next to her. |
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| "Hey," he said barely over his breath. Demona sniffed and looked up, smiling slightly. |
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| Demona immediately straightened and removed her glasses, wiping at her eyes. "I'm fine." |
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| The pitiful look in her blue eyes as she looked up at him was enough to make him start crying, had it been five years ago. "What's the matter?" |
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| Demona shook her head, looking at the sidewalk. "Nothin'," she sniffed. Justin leaned a little closer to her. |
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| "C'mon, you can tell Macavity." |
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| She smiled at that and laughed through her tears. "I always liked Macavity." She paused, rubbing her T-shirt corner over her lenses. "Social services jus' called Uncle Jon. They said I can't ever see my parents again." She broke down, weeping piteously. |
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| Justin, surprising even himself, slipped into the seat beside her and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's arright. Th' way Jonathan was talkin', I don't think it'd be best fer y'to hang around them anyway." |
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| Demona shook her head, her red hair falling over her face. "They never hurt me. If I stayed outta their way when they were drinkin', it was alright. An' I didn't talk to the guys who came by. But..." |
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| Justin waited. "But what?" |
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| "I wanted t' be a dancer. They wouldn't lemme take lessons. Said it was too expensive." She wiped her eyes, drawing a long breath. "Ever since I saw you guys, that's all I wanted t' do." |
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| Justin considered this a moment, then stood to his feet and resolutely pulled her up after him, guiding her back into the theatre. "C'mon." |
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| "Gonna give ya a Christmas present." |
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| "Where we goin'?" Demona asked again. |
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| "Here." Justin lightly pushed open a black-painted door, then stood with his arm extended until Demona cautiously went inside first. Her eyes went wide in wonder, and all she could do was gasp. |
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| "Understudy costumes," Justin said as the door swung shut behind him. They room they were in was small, consisting of only one bar than ran from wall to wall on three sides and a series of shelves. On it hung a variety of CATS costumes: unitards, shoes, wigs, warmers, and tails. Justin stepped around the astonished teenager to gently rub a limp Macavity arm between his fingers. "Some o' these haven't even been worn yet." |
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| "Wow," she finally gasped, reaching out gingerly for the nearest tail. "Can I...?" |
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| "Go ahead," he nodded. "If any'un catches us, I'll tell 'em I'll hand-wash 'em all myself." |
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| Demona wore the face of one living a fantasy as she went slowly around the room, rubbing her fingers gently over the hanging unitards and tails, barely brushing the wigs, with all the wistfulness of a three year old in the world's biggest candy store. "What I'd give t' be in this show," she said, stopping at the four or five spare Demeter outfits. |
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| Justin stood back, letting her have her moment, watching with hints of a genuine smile on his face. "D'you dance? At all?" |
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| "Sorta. Since Mom and Dad wouldn't let me take lessons, I taught myself, an' there was a sorta program at school that didn't cost anythin'." She turned and smiled at him. "I danced the second part of the Jellicle Ball for a performance there once. My teacher loved it." |
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| Justin stepped up beside her, eyeing the golden-brown streaks of the costume. "Who's yer favorite character?" |
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| "Munkustrap," she answered rapidly with assurance, "but if I was in it, I'd like t' be Demeter. Macavity's a close second." She giggled. |
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| Justin's plan immediately fell into place, and he set a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Stay here. I'll be right back." |
|
| "Idiots!" Patricia cursed and swore as she dug through the newly-opened box. "I ask them for black and white! Black and white! What do they send me? Red and yellow! Only idiots could mess up an order like that! Cripes!" |
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| Justin stood in the doorway silently until the head of the makeup department finished her angry rambling. He couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't often a patient kindhearted person like Patricia got angry. She took her work very seriously. "Pat?" |
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| Patricia jumped and whirled around, throwing a hand to her chest and nearly knocking over a jar of pencils. "Jesus, Justin! Don't do that!" Her shoulders slumped as she leaned back against the counter, blowing strands of blonde hair away from her face. "What're you doing here?" |
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| "I need a favor," he stated grimly. |
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| Patricia raised an eye in suspicion. "Is this gonna get me in trouble?" |
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| "Mebbe. I don't think so. I'll take any blame if it does." |
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| Patricia laughed and slammed shut the cardboard box of wrongly-delivered makeup tubes. "Alright, what do you want?" |
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| Demona could hardly believe it. Even as she stared at herself in the brightly-lit dressing room mirror, she didn't believe it. She saw the golden-brown scratchy yak wig encircling her head, felt the fluffy yarn-like shoulder fur against her neck, and held the thick golden tail in her gloved hand, but she still didn't believe it. Slowly, her hand rose up toward her make-up covered face. |
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| "Don't touch," Patricia warned, pointing with a black makeup pencil. "At least not too hard. You don't want it to smear." She pulled Demona's chair away as the teenager stood up, looking down at the gold Demeter unitard that fit over her figure almost perfectly. Pointing her toe, she looked at her warmers in absolute admiration. |
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| "Ya like it?" Justin asked. Demona looked up startled, having forgotten he was even there. She probably recognized him more in his Macavity outfit than she did in his normal attire. |
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| "I love it!" she cried and threw her arms around his scruffy costume, careful not to mess her makeup. "What can I do to thankyou?" |
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| Justin returned the embrace a moment, then set her down. "Y'kin come out on stage. I got one more thing for ya." |
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| Demona, dressed fully as Demeter, followed a Macavity-dressed Justin out onto the stage of the Winter Garden, and was followed by Patricia. She didn't notice the secretive wink that passed between the performer and makeup artist. |
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| It was like something Demona had only known in her dreams. Guided by Justin, she swept majestically across the stage, the CATS music playing from a small, less-than-impressive cassette player the cast used during rehearsals. Justin went slow, imagining himself helping out a new understudy. After a moment Demona pushed him away, insisting with a giggle she could dance herself. Justin stood back, watching with admiration, as Demona suddenly backflipped across the stage, coming to land in a roll down the ramp. She laughed out of sheer joy at being in her favorite place, doing the thing she loved. Smiling widely she stood on her hands and knees on the ramp and made a show of acting like a cat: licking her paws, scratching her ears, arching her back in a stretch. Justin was in awe. Unable to take lessons, but dancing anyway: Demona was wonderful. Here he saw himself years ago, doing the exact same thing. |
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| Demona only had time to look to the side before a white flash lit up the auditorium. Patricia lowered the camera and smiled. "A few flashes won't hurt the set. Go on, do some poses." |
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| Demona looked from Patricia to Justin, face beaming, and leaped up onto the stage with all the grace of a teenage dancer. As Justin lifted her onto his shoulder for another snapshot, he was fairly convinced if she continued on her path, she would no doubt be on Broadway someday. Maybe not in CATS, but in something. |
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| Demona could have fooled anyone into thinking she was a real cast member. She crouched, hissing as Patricia snapped picture after picture: in the middle of a high kick; imitating Victoria's solo dance to the best of her ability; pretending to struggle as Macavity lifted her by her waist and twirled her around his shoulders; sitting serenely on the enormous tire; raising her arms toward the ceiling for the final sweep of the Jellicle Ball; and, finally... |
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| "Macavity! Macavity! There's no one like Macavity!" |
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| Patricia stood back in the seat aisles, watching Demona prance about as at home in Bombalurina's role as she was in Demeter's outfit. Behind her, though in his Macavity outfit, Justin glided across the raked set with ease, dancing background. It amazed him what he remembered from dancing as Alonzo, and even more that Demona could dance both Demeter and Bombalurina so accurately. For him it was routine; a matter of moments, but for Demona it was an eternity that she would cherish forever. She didn't even know it was five thirty until Justin's hand lightly grasped her shoulder in mid-step. |
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| "Sorry," he said, "but it's gettin' late. I think yer uncle's gonna be worried about ya." |
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| Demona took a deep breath, relishing the feeling of her temples pounding with exhilaration. Patricia stepped up onto the stage, smiling sweetly. She handed the camera to the teenager. "Get these developed as soon as you can," she said. |
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| Demona took the camera, holding it like she'd never let go, looking up at both of them gratefully. "Thanks," was all that she needed to say. |
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| "No prob," Justin found himself smiling. "Merry Christmas." |
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