Epilogue
A proud smile covered JC's face as he looked beyond the counter at Molly. "She's doing good. I think she knows that the worst of it is over, and she's starting to get on with her life. It's the only thing she could do, really."
Molly grinned and leaned forward to pat JC on the cheek. "You don't know how lucky all of us that know Brooklyn are to know that she has someone like you in her life. You've been such a big part of her life, sweetie, and you've helped her through things that I can't even begin to understand."
"Molly, I don't understand most of it myself. The only good thing that's happened since the last time is that Tim is officially in jail and he's going to be there for a long time. Two counts of murder in California, assault and battery, attempted murder out here. I'm sorry that it had to take all of this for New York to find out what we were all trying to tell her about. That's the hardest part of everything." He smiled quickly and stood up, dropping some bills on the counter. "I have to go and check up on New York. Her meeting should be over by now."
She turned around from where she was reaching for something and looked at him with surprise etched on her face. "Meeting? You don't mean...with everyone over there, do you?" she asked, jerking her thumb in the direction of the studio.
Again, that proud look covered him and he couldn't help smiling brightly. "Uh-huh. They've been planning her new album. She hasn't gotten up the nerve to go into the studio yet and actually record a track, but I have a feeling that it's coming soon. I better head over there. I stole the truck from her for today." He was about to walk out when her voice pulled him back.
"Excuse me? As cute as you may be, and as tight of a butt as that is, I don't think so, sweetie." He whirled back around, laughing at her comments. He had missed coming into the diner and seeing Molly's smiling face. "Here, take this." He reached his hand out and took what he thought was his change. Instead, he stared back at the same bills he had put down when he was going to leave. "Don't even give me that look, honey. You know that your money is no good here anymore. You helped Brooklyn and we can't give you enough free meals to pay you back for that."
For some reason, he was surprised to find that his throat was tight and he had to swallow thickly. HE had been the rock through it all, and now HE was the only that was about to break down because of one nice comment? Something was wrong with him, he figured. Once his voice came back, he finally spoke. "Molly, you don't have to thank me. I did what anyone else would do. I just tried to help out my friend. I may have succeeded, or she may have done it on her own. Either way, that's all I did. You...you can't stop me from paying you."
"Like hell I can't. Have you ever seen the size of the butcher's knife back there? I could carve you up like a Christmas turkey if you even attempt to put another dollar down there for me. Is that understood?" she asked.
He nodded quickly and paused for a moment. "Molly, just hold on one second, all right? I'll be back in like...a minute," he added, checking his watch before he headed outside. This was the perfect day for Brooklyn to go back to her life, he realized as he jogged down the street. The sun was shining, the sky was a beautiful deep blue...it was the kind of weather that Brooklyn lived for.
Turning the corner, he ran into the first shop he saw, and headed to the back. "Hi," he said, a little out of breath. "Can I get a dozen of those red roses, please? As quickly as possible, too." Leaning against the counter, he fought to catch his breath as the cashier came back with a dozen dark red roses wrapped in clear plastic. He handed over the money and ran out, going back down the street.
His hand opened up the door to the diner as he hid the bouquet behind his back. The largest smile he could ever remember smiling made his eyes sparkle even brighter as he looked towards Molly. "Now just what do you think you're doing, hiding your hand behind your back. You think that you got a butcher's knife to beat the one that I have?" she asked as she wiped down the counter.
"No. I figured that if you won't let me pay for any food here, I have to find some way to compensate you." She looked at him with a smirk until his hand came from behind his back and handed her the dozen roses. "I think that these are much better than a butcher’s knife, Molly," he said with a wink as he walked out the door.
Before he crossed the street to the recording studio, he slipped a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, waiting for a break in traffic. How long ago was it when Brooklyn made him run across the busy street when it was raining to get to the diner? He couldn't remember how many months it had been. His hands were pushed into his jean pockets as he started across the street, smiling at the drivers that stopped long enough to let him through.
The impressive, if somewhat plain exterior of Curb looked back at him as he reached for the handle to the front double doors. Pulling them open, he was almost thankful for the air conditioning as he lifted the sunglasses to his head and smiled at the secretary when she recognized him from the last time he had been in the building. For once, everything seemed to be going right. The elevator was empty and waiting on the bottom floor for him. It wasn’t stopped once for someone else to get on.
Soon enough, he got off on the eighth floor and whistled under his breath as he walked towards the same meeting room that Brooklyn held all meetings in. The same one that he had met perhaps the most wonderful person...woman that he had ever known. What surprised him was that he heard no voices coming from the room and he peeked in curiously to see if Brooklyn had stretched out on the small couch as she normally did when she was tired.
A feeling of panic overcame him for a moment before he realized that he was holding the only set of keys to the truck, and that Brooklyn wouldn't have left the building without him coming to pick her up. "Where the hell could he be?" he muttered to himself as he walked further into the room. There was no piece of paper waiting for him on the table, as a note of explanation. "Excuse me, but have you seen Brooklyn Turner around here today?" he asked the janitor that was hiding in the corner.
"No, sir. I'm sorry."
"Thanks anyway," he said, walking back out of the room. He paused for a moment outside the door and thought to himself. Where else could she be? Suddenly, it hit him and he started down the hallway, first at a walk, then a jog, before he hit a full blown run. Another door was ajar and he looked into the room, smiling to himself. He had finally found his New York.
She was sitting on a stool in the recording studio, her eyes down in her lap and a pair of bulky headphones over her ears. "All right," she said shakily. "Let's try this once and if it doesn't work out, we'll do it tomorrow."
Her eyes closed as she listened to whatever was playing. Joe, who was standing in the room, turned slightly and caught sight of JC before he made sure that the recording filtered into the hallway so that he could hear. With tears rolling down her face and her eyes shut peacefully, Brooklyn opened her mouth and began to sing for the first time in a very long time.
He was caught off guard by how well her voice sounded since the last time that he heard it, and the way that she brought so much emotion to the song. She seemed to lose herself after the second line, and it was as if everyone in the room (or in the hallway, in his case) had disappeared and she was singing for herself. After all, that's what she was doing, wasn't it? Singing for herself. That's what she had always done, and now JC realized it.
Ain’t no talkin’ to this man
Ain’t no pretty other side
Ain’t no way to understand the stupid words of pride
It would take an acrobat and I already tried all that
I’m gonna let him fly
Things can move at such a pace
The second hand just waved good-bye
You know the light has left his face
But you can't recall just where or why
So there was really nothing to it
I just went and cut right through it
I said I'm gonna let him fly
Oh yeah
There's no mercy in a live wire
No rest at all in freedom
Choices we are given
It's no choice at all
The proof is in the fire
Your touch before it moves away- yeah
But you must always know
How long to stay and when to go
And there ain't no talkin' to this man
He's been tryin' to tell me so
It took awhile to understand
The beauty of just letting go
'Cause it would take an acrobat n'
I already tried all that
I'm gonna let him fly- fly whoa
I'm gonna let him fly- fly
I'm gonna let him fly- fly
JC pulled back from the door before Brooklyn could notice that he was there. He didn't wait to find out what her or anyone else's reaction to the song was. He knew what he thought of it, and that first cut should be on the album. If Brooklyn had known that he was there, he might have commented on it later that evening, but she didn't know. As much as it hurt not knowing that she was going to record a song, and that she didn't need him by her side, he was happy to know that she had taken that first step by herself.
Because that was all she needed to do, he realized as he walked to the elevator. Before, he had been singing one of the songs that he sang. Now, he was whistling what he thought was the accompanying music to the song. And for the first time in ages, he couldn't keep a smile off of his face.
Only because Brooklyn was herself again. Only because they could go back to the friendship they had before the whole fiasco had started. Only because, if she never knew what he felt for her and she never felt the same way, he was more than happy to have his New York back. She wasn't anyone else's New York, but his own.
As the elevator hit the lobby, he started to sing under his breath, again smiling at the people he had when he came in.
"So there was really nothing to it
I just went and cut right through it
I said I'm gonna let him fly
Oh yeah."
It was time for Brooklyn...for New York to spread her wings and fly.
Song and story title credited to the Dixie Chicks. I’m not that creative!
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