My biggest concern was to make the movements between the "real world" and the "alternate" one different from the ways I handled the ones in my other stories.  These first two chapters should set the mood and the style for the rest of the story.

Disclaimer: Characters and associated details are property of Hanna-Barbera and are used for non-profit entertainment purposes only.

Archiving permission granted.

THE REAL ADVENTURES OF JONNY QUEST

Synopsis: A young woman's story begins like many others.

Categories: E, F

"THE BIG GOODBYE"

by Eric R. Umali

Chapter Two - "Big Break"

Jenny Montrose opened the compact with one hand.  Involuntarily, she smiled-- she'd practiced doing so for hours after seeing her cousin Tina, the one who'd been living in Philadelphia, do it.

Jenny looked over herself.  She'd had to get up a little earlier than usual, but it had been worth it.  A cascade of softly curved red hair hung over one side of her face, framing the other side-- a sparkling green eye under an arched brow, high cheekbone and rubied lips.  She'd chosen the dark green dress with the small floral print, her favorite, and wore her one pair of real silk stockings.  Jenny had wanted to walk out of the apartment that morning looking like Veronica Lake, and she'd done just that.

Replacing the compact in her handbag, Jenny looked around the room.  It was two in the afternoon, and she sat in a very comfortable chair opposite a receptionist who, in Jenny's opinion, looked more like she belonged in a chorus line than behind a desk.  Out to her left, Jenny could look out and down to the street, eight stories below.

She'd been sharp enough to pick up a street map the day before, so she set out that afternoon and walked confidently to Sixth Ave. and West Forty-fourth, just like a real New Yorker.  Checking the office listings in the lobby, Jenny was a little apprehensive about taking that long elevator ride-- her first-- up to Mr. Z's office for her audition, but she did it.  Jenny arrived exactly at a quarter of two, and was immediately instructed to have a seat.  The receptionist had barely lifted her eyes away from filing her nails to do it.

Jenny's eyes flicked to the clock up on the wall.  It was already ten after two.  *I'm sure Mr. Z's a very busy man,* she told herself.  *All important men are.*

Both young women, lost in their own thoughts, jumped at the sudden noise of the office intercom.  The receptionist pushed down her "talk" switch.

"Yes, Mr. Z?" she asked in an almost grating, high-pitched voice.

"What's left on my schedule for today, Gina?" asked the fuzzy voice from the box.

Gina glanced quickly at Jenny.  "Just an audition with Miss... uh, what did you say your name was?"

"Jennifer Montrose."

"Miss Montrose."

There was an almost audible grumble, then, "Very well, then-- send her in."

Gina waved her towards the office, then returned immediately to her nails.  Jenny stopped in front of the frosted glass door and took a deep breath.  She turned the knob and stepped inside.

Seated behind a massive oak desk sat James Zulacco, businessman and entrepreneur.  Everything about the man, from his bald head and angled features to the severe cut of his obviously expensive suit gave the immediate impression of power and importance.  It was all very carefully planned, even down to the size and placement of his desk.  Jenny very predictably began to feel very small.

"So," Zulacco began, "what may I do for you, Miss... Montrose, was it?"  His voice was low and measured.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Zulacco.  Jennifer Montrose.  I have an appointment to audition for your cabaret show?"  Jenny fought down the quaver in her voice.

"Yes, of course.  I assume you have a resume?"

Jenny's heart sank.  "N-no, Mr. Zulacco.  I... I wasn't aware I would need one."

Zulacco smiled, pushing up the corners of his dark moustache.  It wasn't the warm, congenial smile like the one Jenny had worn walking into the office-- it was feral, like a hunter contemplating its prey.  Jenny shivered.

"That's quite all right, Miss Montrose.  I assume you have sufficient qualifications..."

"Oh, yes, Mr. Zulacco!" Jenny said, almost squeaking it out.  She began ticking items off on her fingers, speaking faster and faster.  "I've been dancing since I was six-- ballet and modern-- and taking piano and voice lessons for almost eight years now.  I was in _all_ of my high school's productions, and--"

Zulacco put up his hand to stop the assault.  "Fine, fine then, Miss Montrose.  That's just fine.  Look-- I have a business meeting that I must get to.  You're a... _lovely_ girl, Miss Montrose."  The wolf's smile returned.  "I'm sure you'll do just fine in my employ.  Why don't you come down to the club later this afternoon and speak to the music director.  He'll introduce you around and the other girls'll show you the ropes, all right?"  He scribbled down an address and a short note on a piece of letterhead, and handed the paper to Jenny.

"Thanks, Mr. Zulacco-- Thank you!  I'll go down there right away!"

"Not _right_ away, Miss Montrose," said Zulacco, as he stood and buttoned his jacket.  "I'd give it until about four o'clock or so.  The 'Silver Slipper' doesn't open until seven."

"I understand, Mr. Zulacco."

The man picked up his hat from the coat rack, then stood in front of Jenny.  He crooked his finger under her chin and gently tilted her head up.

"And call me Mr. Z.  All my employees do."

Jenny fought the urge to step back.  "Yes, Mr. Z."

Zulacco nodded.  "Good, good.  If you'll excuse me?"  He held open the office door, and Jenny stepped through it immediately.  Zulacco turned and locked the office door, then stood beside the desk.

"Gina?  I'll be heading out to meet Mr. Carlotti now.  Finish up whatever you need to, then lock up, understood?"

Gina nodded obediently.  "Yes, Mr. Z," she said, then began gathering her things.

Jenny kept herself a stride behind Zulacco as they walked down the hallway.  He stopped and hit the elevator button, while Jenny kept going.

"Not taking the elevator, Miss Montrose?"

Jenny turned around.  "No, thank you, Mr. Z.  I have some time to kill, so I'll just take the stairs."

"Suit yourself," Zulacco replied as he entered the elevator.

Jenny made her way down the stairs slowly.

**********

The door to the "Silver Slipper" club was found under a colorful marquee and unlit electric sign, both dull and drab-looking in the bright late afternoon sun.  But as Jennifer Montrose stood beneath it, all she could see were the brilliant, twinkling lights of its nighttime glory.  In her mind's eye, she saw her name spelled out on the marquee, beckoning the rich and famous and the social elite into the club's dark, smoky confines.

Jenny began tugging on the shiny brass door latches, only to find all four doors locked tightly.  Turning to her left, she found an intercom box.  She pushed the button, almost jumping at the shrill buzzer.

"Hello?" came the tinny-voiced response.

"Uh, hello.  My name is Jennifer Montrose, and I'm here to speak to the musical director?"

"Auditions have to be scheduled with the boss."  Whoever it was in there, they were pretty used to the question.

"I already have auditioned," she said, a little too loudly.  "I have a note from Mr. Zul-- Mr. Z."

A short minute passed before she heard the door lock being turned.  It opened to reveal an older man with a permanently tired expression on his face.  "May I see the note?" he asked.

Quickly, Jenny fished into her handbag and produced the paper.  The man looked it over, pausing only to scratch his russet-colored beard and graying temples.

"All right then, Miss Montrose.  My name's Benny," he said, offering his hand.  "I'm head bartender and sort of assistant manager around here."

"A pleasure," Jenny replied, shaking Benny's hand.

"Come on in, and I'll introduce you around."

She followed him into the darkness.  A large foyer greeted them first, with the doorman's podium to the right, and the coat-check window to the left.  "Welcome to the 'Silver Slipper'," said Benny proudly.

Benny led her through another set of gleaming wood and frosted glass doors, and down a wide stairway.  Jenny gasped.  The "Silver Slipper" was a magnificent club.  Jenny didn't want to count the dozens of tables, surrounding most of the large dance floor.  Flanking the tables and floor were an identical pair of long, shining wood bars, with their hundreds of multicolored bottles.  At the head of it all was a large stage.  Because of the hour, every chair and stool was still turned up on top of their tables.

Looking up, Jenny gaped at the crystal chandeliers, and would've bet that the club used more electricity in a night than her whole town did in a month.

Jenny's reverie was broken by the soft tinkling of a piano.  As she continued down the stairs, she followed the sound to the stage, where a single figure sat at a beautiful black grand, gently keying.

"That there," said Benny, pointing to the stage, "is your musical director, Harry Singer.  He'll take care of you from here.  Harry's a good man."

"Thank you, Mr.--?"

"Just call me Benny."  He headed for one of the bars.

Jenny made her way through the tables towards the stage, following the lilting piano melody.  She had just topped the steps to the stage when Harry stopped suddenly to look up at her.  With a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes seemed to regard her, head to toe, then returned to the piano.

"Lemme guess," he said, "you're a new girl.  Just sent here from Mr. Z's office?"

"That's right," she responded, walking up to him with hand outstretched.  "Jennifer Montrose."

"Harry Singer.  Well, since it's your first night, you're welcome to watch the show from backstage tonight.  Start learning the numbers this afternoon, and come in earlier tomorrow to start rehearsing."  It came out almost sing-song, as if Harry had said this more than once.  He had.

"When's my first night on stage?"

Harry chuckled.  "Tomorrow night, of course."

Jenny's heard skipped exactly one beat.  If Harry hadn't seen it before, he never would've known.

"Then I'd better get started," Jenny replied.

Harry rose from the bench, tapped out his cigarette, and headed for the wings.  "Come on, Jennifer Montrose, I'll show you to the dressing rooms."

At the sound of the last two words, it was all Jenny could do not to skip along behind him.

TO BE CONTINUED...