Mad as Jazzmen |1930s Ryden AU| ✔️

-6-

The morning sunlight was bright and piercing, shining right through Brendon's curtains and onto his face.  It was as if the world itself wanted to awaken him from his slumber and send him out into the city, into his second day in New Orleans.  In his groggy state, he had almost forgotten where he was.  He wasn't in his usual bed.  He was in the bed in his new apartment, in the French Quarter, in New Orleans, in the city of jazz.  Once those memories came flooding back, however, he nearly leapt out of bed and smacked his head on the ceiling.

It was a brand new day.

Struggling into a fresh set of clothes, Brendon bounded around his spacious apartment like a bull in a china shop.  He still hadn't absorbed the fact that he lived here.  This large, fancy apartment was his.  He had bought it with his own money, and to keep up with the costly payments, he had already found a job.  He was high on life, and he never wanted to come back down.

But thinking of his job made a whole new set of emotions flood into his system.

He remembered his conversation with Ryan the night before, in that quaint little cove on the other side of the city.  They had made a deal to help Spencer and bring The Spotted Cat back to life, back to its former self.  Without a doubt, he knew that it was going to be difficult, but that didn't dampen his spirits.  He didn't want to let Ryan or Spencer down, and he was going to do whatever it took to make their lives better again.  They were good people.  They deserved more.

Grabbing his keys and slicking down his hair, Brendon left his apartment for the day and hurried downstairs toward the lobby, where Dallon sat reading the day's newspaper.  Whenever they met, he always seemed to be reading the newspaper.  It must have been his thing.

"G'morning, Mr. Weekes!"  Brendon greeted, mustering up the biggest smile he could.  Dallon was always so ill-tempered, so Brendon did his best to liven him up.  "How are you today?"

Dallon hardly glanced up from his newspaper at Brendon's arrival, his brow furrowed into his usual frown.  "Just dandy,"  he grumbled, returning to his reading.  "I assume you're headed out for the day?  And hopefully not returning at an ungodly hour like last night?"

Brendon stopped in his tracks, matching Dallon's expression with a frown of his own.  How did Dallon know what time he returned from the cove?  He had done his best to sneak back inside without making a peep.  "Were you still up or somethin'?"  he asked hesitantly.  He couldn't stop his heart from thumping against his ribs.

"I always keep track of who comes and goes, especially during the night,"  Dallon answered, not once glancing up from his reading again.  That made his words seem all the more disturbing.  "Just to make sure there aren't any crimes committed in my building."

Okay, that isn't creepy at all, Brendon thought to himself with a frown.  Dallon stayed up all night--probably hiding, since Brendon hadn't seen him--to watch for suspicious activity?  Maybe he was going to get kicked out sooner than he originally thought, and maybe it wasn't going to be because of his money troubles.

"That's nice,"  Brendon said with a faux smile.  "It's neat that you care so much about your building and everyone's safety."  He was lying through his teeth by that point, and he was afraid that Dallon knew it, too.

But if Dallon did know, he didn't mention it, much to Brendon's relief.  He simply nodded, then changed the topic to something that made Brendon panic even more.  "So I've heard you were running around with Ryan Ross last night."

Does everyone know everything about everyone in this city?

Dallon didn't even give him a chance to respond.  "Be careful around that kid,"  he said, nonchalantly licking his finger to turn the page of his newspaper.  "He's riffraff.  Likes to drag people down with his own issues.  Watch yourself."