Chapter Text
Applause roars as Caitlyn’s silky and Jayce’s deep voice hold the last note of “Cheek to Cheek”.
Jayce does a final fancy lick on the guitar and looks at her, flashing that winning smile and winking at her. She looks back at him, batting her eyes and waving his hand as if telling him to stop, earning more laughs and cheers from the public.
It gets very hard not to laugh when Jayce turns around and rolls his eyes in boredom at Cait, unbeknownst to the attendees.
They both hate this song by now, but the public, and especially her mother, seem to love it. It’s undoubtedly a hit in the Piltover jazz clubs, and it would be idiotic to not include it in the setlist. The stuck-up, repressed and pompous people from the elite eat up these cheeky, repetitive numbers.
Cait gets up from the piano straightening her dress and goes to stand by Jayce, as they wave a goodbye to the people before them. The black silk dress makes it impossible to look away from her, giving her an even more imposing presence on the stage. And Jayce’s all white suit and slicked back hair fits perfectly with this image they’ve built as a duet.
They are playing at a high-profile restaurant, filled with some of the snobbiest people in Piltover, and these gigs tend to bring even better ones like private parties and opportunities that wouldn’t be smart to miss. So they comply with what the public wants and give them what looks to be a perfect couple, with just the right amount of mischievousness as to get all the snotty wives laughing but never enough to scandalize them.
As they leave the stage along with their backing band, the cheers for one more song start and they are more than prepared for this situation. They had decided that as a last act they would be a little rebellious and perform an original. Caitlyn is particularly eager to see her mother’s face as she brings out the dark double bass to the stage, which Cassandra had deemed such an unlady-like instrument. Of course, it was Cait’s favorite instrument and undoubtedly the one she was excellent at. She’d be equally as good in piano if she actually enjoyed it as much, but she’s been reduced to that instrument on live presentations thanks to her mother’s insistence and the band’s requirements. That doesn’t mean she can’t get away with playing bass every once in a while.
They let a minute pass before coming out, earning another round of applause. She’s elated when she spots her mothers icy stare as she sees her come out with her preferred instrument. Viktor’s whistle from the sideline and Mel’s cheer reaches her through the crowd’s noise, giving her a final confidence kick.
This set is much more toned down, just her bass, Jayce’s guitar and their voices. They are standing side by side on the stage now, and she starts tapping her foot along to Jayce’s quiet countdown. Once Cait’s got the rhythm, he stops counting aloud and lets four more beats go by before starting off a warm melody on his guitar. Almost immediately, Cait joins with the deep, marked accents of the bass. They both face the shared microphone between them and begin singing:
“Two friends, two hearts
Too many nights to count them
But tonight was something new
And I know you felt it too
When we fell into the passion of a kiss
Around the world
We've shared these roads together
Every journey is grand
When you're holding my hand
Do friends fall in love like this?”
Jayce’s words start flowing in unison from both of them as they get through the first verse. If she weren’t this close, she wouldn’t be able to notice the faint blush forming in her friend’s cheeks, covered by the harsh lights above them. These words are not for her, as the public chooses to believe, but for the drummer that’s currently tapping along with his cane from the sidelines and watching his lover perform.
She can’t help but begin the next verse with a wide smile as she notices how enthralled Viktor looks at Jayce:
“A look that once was merely warm
Now blazes with an ardent desire
A touch that once was just a touch
Burns hotter than a five alarm fire
Oh say you're mine
For all our days to follow
What was innocent before
Has become a grand amour
Two friends fell in love like this”
It’s the first time they perform this song for an audience that is not just their close friends, and the following part is one that Caitlyn was very excited to do. She starts whistling skillfully accompanying the tune, which even with her eyes closed knows earns her yet another disgraced look from Cassandra.
Almost immediately as her whistling ends, the last verse starts again and they sing through it together. As they near the end of the song, Cait’s lone voice rises over the instruments:
“As friends we lived before”
Jayce looks at her with a smile, and Cait leaves the space for him to reply.
“And we'll live evermore”
As Jayce’s guitar slows down to single spaced out accompanying notes, they sing together one last time before the song ends.
“Together
Two friends
In love”
Once again, applause erupts from the public as the last echoes of the guitar fade. She immediately feels Jayce’s arm around her in a tight hug as they smile together. They know they sounded great.
They always do.
********
After their set ends, they are free to enjoy the party. They opt to sit near the stage, listening attentively to Mel and the band’s performance, and each nursing a drink already. They don’t particularly enjoy these kinds of events if not for the music and the free drinks artists get.
As usual, Jayce keeps himself to white wines while Caitlyn opts yet again for whiskey on the rocks.
Viktor is back on the stage on his drum set as part of Mel’s band, and they are currently running through their encore. They know Mel always saves the best for the last, so it does not surprise them when the first notes of “Let’s Do It” start resonating in the large hall as their final song. Her sultry version has become a staple of hers, as much as “Cheek to Cheek” is theirs. And by the gods, they run perfectly through it.
Mel’s raspy voice mixes with the last notes of the guitar and piano by the end, becoming almost inaudible over the applause. As they leave, the woman throws a wink their way once she spots Caitlyn and Jayce on the nearer tables.
The sounds of the attendants chatting starts to grow louder as the stage crew starts moving the instruments for the next and last performance. Cait can see her mother strutting over, as she probably was desperate to do ever since she spotted them at the beginning of Mel’s set.
Cait had been very skillful in making sure to avoid her right after their own ended, and in only making herself visible as the other one began so her mother would not try to talk to her. But she has nowhere to go now so she braces herself, barely comforted by Jayce’s squeeze to her arm.
As she nears, Jayce is already lifting his other hand to hold her mother’s in that annoyingly charming way and grasps them once she’s at their table.
“Jayce, dear, you were wonderful tonight” Cassandra says, elegantly wrapping her hands together over Jayce’s.
The Kiramman’s had been his patrons for the last decade, even if the relationship faltered when Caitlyn and him decided to become a duo. Being an up-and-coming artist’s patron weighed more than the anger of having your daughter become a musician, but it almost made them cut ties. If it wasn’t for their whooping success, her mother would’ve probably chained her to an office chair and sent Jayce back out on the streets.
Cait does not look at her until her mother calls her name.
“Darling, you sounded amazing too. I only wish you had asked someone else to accompany you on the bass”
She sighs at the inevitable comment, and regrets not starting to speak sooner because her mother resumes her complaint.
“Your hands are much more suitable for piano, and it’s more flattering for your figure, you are hunched over on bass. And a woman’s fingers weren’t meant to play such a brute instrument”
It’s getting the best of her, but as she's gearing up to communicate to her mother how little regard for her opinion she has, Jayce speaks.
“Oh, Cassandra, luckily our Caitlyn here has such skillful fingers. She can play anything she wants, and do it perfectly ”
The innuendo is not lost on Cait, and in case it wasn’t clear enough, Jayce adds:
“I’m sure if we asked any of the refined people surrounding us, more than one can vouch for Caitlyn. Specially the women, they seem to be particularly receptive to her handy talents”
Cait hides her laugh through her glass. Her mother certainly shuts up at that. Even if she knows about both their romantic preferences, such lewd comments are far from what she finds funny.
“I am sure. Thank you, Jayce” her trademark tight politician smile breaks through. With that, she turns around to walk off, before giving Caitlyn a final once over.
“Just one more thing, darling. The whistling…” she makes yet another disgruntled face, and shakes her hand as if willing the concept to get lost.
“Please avoid it, it is not appropriate for a lady”
With that little piece of motherly love, she leaves off to mingle with some other snobby people.
It’s barely a second that Cait looks at Jayce before they burst out laughing.
“You are really pushing it with her, you know? She’s going to end up kicking us both out if you keep making those jokes” she says playfully.
Her best friend laughs and wraps an arm around her.
“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll make do on the streets, living off of top-sider coins”
********
Vi grunts as she runs her fingers through her slicked hair, messing it up. Almost immediately, Vander grabs the comb and pushes it back yet again.
She doesn’t have a mirror in the fucking alley they are making them wait at, but she feels like she looks stupid with the borrowed suit and the combed back hair.
“I can’t believe we have to play for a bunch of fucking pilties” she says with resentment, tucking the shirt that keeps getting loose back into her pants.
“Yeah, pilties that are paying us a shit load of money for playing lousy standards. So please shut up and finish getting ready” Ekko says.
He was the one that got them the gig. Apparently some top-sider couple had been nosing around Benzo’s club when they heard them playing a few weeks ago, and were so impressed by the performance that they recommended them at this piltie party.
“Yeah, they are paying but won’t even let us wait inside the club, or give us dressing rooms” Powder adds, stretching her arms and legs dramatically. She goes to crack her knuckles when Vi slaps her hands to stop her.
Poor Vander had gone out of his way to try and make them presentable for this set. Even if they despised playing in Piltover clubs, they had to admit the pay was good, and the exposure to potential clients was even better.
Mylo and Claggor are also finished prepping up. Neither of them has looked this fancy in their entire lives, and even if music is their element, the tight fitting clothes and painful shoes aren’t.
Vander sighs and coughs loudly, gathering everyone up.
“Okay, kids. You know I can’t go in there to watch the presentation, but you know what to do. You guys are good , make sure these pilties know that.”
It certainly bugs her that Vander, of all people, looks just fine at the prospect that this fucking place won’t let him in because he’s a zaunite and not with the band. But his harsh pat on her back pushes the twist out of her brow.
There’s not much to do now, they should be letting them in at any minute now.
Even if it is for a bunch of snotty topsiders, Vi is still nervous. She holds herself from polishing her trumpet yet again.
If it becomes any shinier it will end up blinding someone.
********
“I think you are going to like these guys” Jayce says as he sets another whiskey in front of Caitlyn.
Mel and Viktor are now sitting on their table, the four of them ready to enjoy the last set of the night.
“Jayce and I found them in the Undercity, they really are something” Viktor adds with his thick accent.
“And from what I peaked in the alley while I was out on the balcony for a smoke, I think you’re going to particularly appreciate the trumpet” Mel says pointedly at Cait, right as the lights around them begin to dim again.
The crowd's noise goes down almost in pair with the lighting, and the steps of the band getting on the stage fill the silence.
If Viktor hadn't said anything, she would have still clocked from a mile away that these people were from Zaun. She can see the brighter and brasher hairstyles, the peeking tattoos, and the edge.
A young man with his hair high up sits on the piano, and Cait is surprised to not see him bring out any music sheets. Actually, neither of the people currently setting up have sheets, only themselves and their instruments. Cait does find that admirable.
Two more men got on the stage with him; the one with white dreadlocks sits on the drum set, already tweaking some of the cymbals. The other is a bigger guy, who comes in and immediately grabs a trombone from the set of brass instruments to his side.
A significantly shorter and younger girl walks out and goes straight for an old looking double bass, with clear markings and painting all over it. Cait huffs out a laugh at the surprise. She doesn’t know what’s more shocking, how young the girl clearly is or how striking her bright blue hair looks against the black backdrop of the stage. The instrument seems comically large as she lays it against her while testing out some of the strings.
Finally, the last heavy steps reach their place, and Cait can’t help but sit straighter to get a good look. She starts at the black clad legs that stand at the front of the stage, and moves up to the broad waist highlighted by the tucked shirt. A tattoo peaks through the collar the woman is struggling to loosen up, and she wishes she wasn’t wearing that damn black jacket because she’d like to see how far it goes. Her reddish-pink hair is slicked back, leaving her face entirely in plain sight. She has the most intense eyes she has seen in her entire life, and as she finishes scanning her face, the small roman numeral tattoo on her cheek not being overlooked, she realizes they are also fixated on her.
Heat creeps up Cait’s neck and she can hear her friends chuckle, finally noticing that they were attentively looking at her, as if waiting for her to melt at some point. With a single finger, Jayce pushes her whiskey glass closer to her. He gets close as she reaches for it and says:
“You look like you need it”
********
It’s just a few minutes until they are finished setting up, but with the other woman’s eyes on her, it feels like an eternity for Cait.
Finally, the moment is interrupted when the man at the piano coughs, and after an agreeing nod from everyone, he launches into a motif on the piano that immediately catches everyone's attention. A breath of silence passes, a chair in the back can be heard creaking, and then the band launches into what Cait thinks it’s the best rendition of “Mood Indigo” that she’s heard in her entire life.
There’s a segment where the brass instruments don’t play, and she can only focus on the bass. The fingers of the younger girl playing it move skillfully against the strings, pulling them with her right hand as if she needed no strength. They slide against the neck so easily that Cait wonders if she has even thicker callouses than her. Her concentrated face shows she’s not simply playing by memory, it’s coming out of her.
Saying it sounds like clockwork would be selling it for cheap. It’s not mechanical, it’s fluid. They are playing from each other instead of with each other, not a single note misplaced. She’s entirely hypnotized by the performance.
She’s abruptly brought back as after an impasse, the trombone and trumpet start back up again in unison. The soft trumpet almost brings her to tears. The eyes of the woman playing are now closed, her face straining with the effort. The veins on her neck seem to become more prominent as the song ends and she holds the note for a long time, even after the deep remnant sound of the open bass strings coming loose ends.
The entire hall sits in silence. Everyone in the crowd must have had the same experience Cait did. A performance like that is enough to stop on its tracks even the most musically dense human on earth. And also, there is probably more than one turned on house-wife learning some new things about themselves after watching that woman playing the trumpet.
It’s just seconds, but after the stupor ends she can’t help but clap loudly. This kickstarts the uproar of the public, a loud round of applause running through the room. It doesn’t stop for about a minute, as the band looks amongst themselves amused. There was a certain defensiveness from them at the beginning that seems to have been broken off with the crowd's reaction, instilling them with confidence.
To top it all off, the trumpeter looks at her and flashes her a smile, recognizing she started the applause.
Before the moment gets dragged on too long, the object of Cait’s infatuation looks towards her bandmates and doesn’t say anything as she starts playing. Again, as if music simply poured out of them, the first few lone trumpet notes grab the public’s attention, and get almost immediately merged with the full band as they go into “There’s A Small Hotel”.
********
Her attention is constantly swaying between the outstanding quality of the music, and the thick forearms the trumpeter now has exposed after sweating through several songs. Complex lines of tattoos run down her arms and Cait is feral at the sight, except that she keeps getting distracted by the brain-melting arrangements they are making. Somehow they just ran through a version of “A Foggy Day” that sounds actually fun and has her bouncing her leg keeping the high tempo.
Again, they all smile to themselves as the crowd applauds. Cait’s heart skips a beat after the pink haired trumpeter moves towards the microphone for vocals that had been left unused up until now.
“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen”
As if there weren’t enough attractive things about this woman, her voice is deep but oh so sweet. The sound moves through the hall and caresses her ears; it has Cait begging internally that the next song will be actually sung, and by her.
“Glad to see everyone is enjoying themselves tonight”
She can see Mel’s shoulders rise up with a laugh as she says “Ask Caitlyn” to their table, making Viktor and Jayce grin. It was impossible not to have enjoyed that set, whichever the reason might have been.
“We would like to introduce ourselves, we are The Firelights” She goes one by one, presenting Mylo on the keys, Claggor in the brass section, Ekko on the drums and Powder on the bass. Cait finds herself holding back to get up and ask the other woman’s name when it goes unmentioned, but she can see the younger girl, Powder, running up to the microphone.
“And this is my sister Violet on trumpet, and whatever other instruments she feels like playing each night ‘cause she plays literally everything. Thank you very much!” The younger sister’s voice is much higher and raspier than hers, but she can see the clear similarity between their faces. The trumpeter seems to almost get shy at that and turns her head down with a smile.
Cait can’t help but mouth the name, tasting it. Violet.
“Thank you for taking the time to listen to us, and for allowing us the pleasure of pleasuring you ” she adds, grabbing the microphone with a cheeky smile. It gets some laughs from the crowd, but it has Cait crossing her legs over themselves at the familiar tug on her stomach when Violet’s eyes land directly on her as she says those last words.
“Sadly, as all good things come to an end, this will be our last song of the night”
Most of the attendees make sounds of disappointment at that.
“But fret not, we will be participating at the 34th Piltover Jazz Festival in two months. We hope to meet you there again”
Again, some clapping and cheering from the public. Cait doesn’t miss the way Violet’s eyes quickly land on her as she says that, as if begging her silently to remember that information.
“Without further ado, here goes our last song for you. Thank you again”
She cannot let the night end without speaking to Violet. She feels as if she needs to meet her, there is a tug from her heart to the trumpeter that is impossible to ignore, be it from the connection to the music, or for more carnal reasons perhaps.
Some deep bass lines interrupt her train of thought. If that wasn’t enough, the soft noises of the brush going over the snare drum finally hooks the crowd back in. Violet doubles down with her eyes closed, and starts playing very soft and low accompaniments along with Claggor, who is now holding a saxophone. She rises up as the soft notes get higher, and Cait’s breath gets caught in her throat when Violet is fully standing back up and the clear notes of “Moonlight in Vermont” grace her ears.
Cait closes her eyes as the trumpet sings the words she knows so well. The saxophone makes the mellowest additions that seem to lift up the main melody, and the bass strings tug at her very chest. Oh, how she wishes she could be on that stage accompanying that trumpet with her own bass arrangements.
“Moonlight In Vermont” is her favorite song. And this is quickly becoming her favorite version.
********
If she hadn’t been playing trumpet ever since she was eight, the sight would probably leave her without air.
There’s so much going on at once. Tonight is one of those gigs that just goes so well; they are all playing exactly how they love to, even if they’ve chosen mainly more crowd pleasing songs to play, but that just makes it easier since they know every standard by heart. And, the attention of a certain blue haired girl may also be working in her favor.
“Moonlight In Vermont” played this way was a wildcard, and she’s more than glad that she fought to keep it on the setlist since it brought this godly sight to her.
The blue haired woman closed her eyes and turned her head slightly to the side, clearly lost in the music. The position bares her neck to Vi, and she’s glad the trumpet has her face already red because if not the heat coming up would clearly be noticeable.
Without realizing, Vi finds herself following the rhythm of the blue-haired’s finger as she taps on her glass instead of the careful taps of Powder’s foot behind her.
The dress the woman below her is wearing is a shiny black that makes her pale skin even brighter. The long sleeves reach up to just below her shoulders, the long blue hair draped over one side. They go down to the unbearable sight of her exposed chest softly rising and falling with her breathing, which is enough to make Vi’s brain short circuit.
Finally the staring catches up to her and she has to take an extra breath, cutting a run slightly short. She looks at Powder who’s discreetly raising an eyebrow at her, but she recovers almost immediately. Luckily this is the moment the song slows down and keeps the slow tempo up until the end.
As she’s done countless times, she plays that motif that’s so unique to this song, and climbs up until the last note, holding it as Claggor adds the finishing touches with the sax. She feels it. They all feel it. They fucking crushed it.
Exactly like the first song they played, the crowd sits still for a few seconds before erupting in applause.
The band keeps still for a few seconds, enjoying the cheering and clapping. But nevertheless, no amount of talent will make the restaurant’s owners forget they are from Zaun. The four bouncers that had brought them in from the alley are now quickly grabbing their things and hastily packing up, much to each instrument owner's pain, to usher them out.
Vi barely gets a final look at the woman, who’s pointedly staring at her with her lips agape, showing the cutest hint of a tooth gap. The last thing she can do before she’s finally pushed to the sides is wink at her.
********
Cait gets up in a rush as she realizes what’s happening.
No zaunites allowed in the restaurant. It seems that performers are allowed a very short exception.
Violet disappears with a wink straight at her as a bouncer pushes her and leaves Caitlyn standing up, looking like a fool.
“Oh, God. Are they really kicking them out?” Mel rasps out, outraged.
Immediately, Caitlyn starts walking. She can hear Jayce following right behind her as she struts forward, both with the intention of having a calm, civil word with the bouncers and the restaurant’s manager. Ideally, she also intends on having a chance to talk to the trumpeter that had her completely bewitched since the second she got on stage.
Being a politician’s daughter does have certain perks, like knowing that if she raises hell with the restaurant’s owners she will face absolutely no consequence. She would definitely not care about those even if she didn’t have this privilege, she cannot just sit around while this level of injustice is inflicted.
Unexpectedly, her mother’s voice calls for her, and she can see Cassandra nearing them arm in arm with Cecil B. Heimerdinger. If it wasn’t for Jayce’s hand that catches her back, the sudden call back to reality that caused her to loudly trip and slide a few centimeters over the polished floor would’ve had her tumbling down on her butt.
The president of the Piltovian Jazz Music Society was already smiling at them, looking chipper as Cassandra laughed about something he said. If there was one conversation worth having at this party, it was definitely with him.
“Oh, goodness! Miss Kiramman!” Heimerdinger suddenly drops her mother’s arm and rushes to hold Cait’s hand, helping to steady her.
At her shocked lack of response, she can hear Jayce speaking beside her.
“Mister Heimerdinger! It’s an honor, sir!” without leaving Cait’s back, Jayce’s other arm stretches out to shake the older man’s hand.
After a polite kiss to Caitlyn’s own hand, Heimerdinger moves to shake Jayce’s with a smile.
Whatever conversation gets started between the two men instantly, and unwillingly, becomes secondary. From this point in the room she can see how The Firelights are being forced out through the emergency exit. The lack of regard of the bouncers with their instruments and general presence has Caitlyn’s blood positively boiling.
One by one, the artists are being ushered out carrying as much as they can. The last one to go out is a pink flash that quickly disappears, but her tattooed forearm peaks back into the door with a clear middle finger pointing up, directed at the bouncers.
She cannot help the gasp that leaves her heaving chest. She starts to turn to take a step towards that direction, but she’s held back by the sudden grip of Jayce’s hand on her forearm. Her knitted brows must be more prominent than she thought because Heimerdinger looks at her worriedly.
“Miss Kiramman, Mister Talis, did I catch you at a bad time? I wouldn’t want to interrupt…-”
“Oh, Mister Heimerdinger, not at all!” Cassandra interrupts him, with little regard for whatever had her daughter so clearly wound up.
In a mix of disbelief and anger, Cait looks at Jayce’s hand still holding her arm, at her mother behind Heimerdinger, and at the bouncers in the background already locking the back door. She’s suddenly faced with a very heavy decision; whether to run off to chase Violet with intentions that not even herself can pinpoint, or to stay and have what’s probably going to be a career-defining chat. Both for her and her best friend.
She’s pinned between Jayce’s pleading eyes and what’s probably one of the most stern looks she’s ever received from her mother. The Firelights are already gone, the chances of catching them are low, and she will definitely have the chance to complain to the restaurant’s owners before she leaves. Even if her chest is still vibrating with the final melodies Violet left her with, she turns to fully face the man before them.
Caitlyn tries her absolute best at putting on a face she’s way to pissed off to simply fake, and she feels Jayce’s thankful squeeze as she speaks:
“I’m so very sorry, Mister Heimerdinger. You are not interrupting. I am thrilled to meet you”
********
It’s almost comical the way they are all crammed together at the end of the streetcar wagon, trying to balance in between them all the instruments they are carrying.
The sound of their lively chatter fills the almost empty cart, few people travel at this hour.
It was a good gig, probably one of their best. Everything went perfectly and they know they sounded great. Mylo is telling Vander about that first round of applause, and how for a silent second they all felt they fucked up big time before the loud clapping and cheering started.
Vi can’t help but smile at the thought, and at the proud look that overtakes Vander’s face while looking at them. It’s good to see her family so happy, but the way the night ended makes her grin fade. She cannot shake the anger of seeing the bouncers kicking their instrument’s cases with little care of what’s inside, and the phrase “zaunite scum” is still echoing in her head. She can only wish that she could’ve given him more than just a middle finger.
It’s understandable that they are all happy with how the night went and the decent pay they got, but it pisses her off even more that none of them are as outraged as her about the mistreatment.
And also, there might be one other little thing that has her in a mood.
“Oh, cheer up, Vi. Those fuckers are just bouncers, the crowd loved us” Ekko tries as he notices Vi’s scowl.
“Don’t bother, Ekko. She’s just pissed she didn’t get to say hi to her girlfriend…- Ow!”
Mylo is immediately cut off by Vi’s slap to his head. Vander turns to her with a raised eyebrow.
“Girlfriend, you say?”
Vi’s “I don’t even know her” comes out mumbled as she crosses her arms and tightens into herself, hiding behind the saxophone’s case.
“There was this piltie giving Vi the eyes aaaaall night” Powder says. “She even got you to fuck up during ‘Moonlight in Vermont’ because you were too focused on her boobs”
Vi growls out Powder’s name in warning. She can only hope the furious blush creeping up her neck is not really that noticeable.
It is entirely true, though. The frustration of having missed the chance to talk to her is even worse than having been immediately kicked out of the restaurant for being from Zaun.
“Just think about it for a second though” Mylo starts. “What would you even have said to someone like her?”
“ Oh, Hi. I’m Vi. A trencher who’s entire apartment costs half as much as the heels you are wearing. Would you like to marry me? ” Powder lowers her voice to mock Vi’s tone.
Her brothers and Ekko burst out laughing at her sister’s comment. She doesn’t.
Vi didn’t know this woman, and probably would never get to. But she couldn’t stop thinking about that smile, not to even get started on the piercing blue eyes. And maybe some of the things lower too.
The thought that, even if she knew her, her chances would be so incredibly low only helps to get her in a severely worse mood.
********
A week has gone by since their presentation at that restaurant with Jayce.
A week that she’s been obsessively going through all her records that have “Moonlight In Vermont” to try and find a version that gives her half the rush that The Firelight’s presentation gave her.
She’s still angry at Jayce and her mother for holding her back, even if the relevance of the Cecil Heimerdinger coming to chat specifically with them should not be overlooked. Yes, they may now be in talks to put out an album with Hextech Records, which is the biggest jazz and blues label in all of Runeterra. And they’ve also been offered the opportunity to headline this year’s Piltover Jazz Festival. But she cannot shake off the feeling that she lost something by not going after Violet.
At least she got to give the restaurant owner her piece of mind, much to her mother’s dismay. They may have their differences, but Cait sure is glad to have inherited Cassadra’s icy stare and irrefutable speech. He had to give in to the pressure, losing such looked after acts like Caitlyn and Jayce, or the Medarda Band could be too costly for a music restaurant. The owner had been left beet red and shaking in anger after Caitlyn and her friends swore to never step foot again on the place if he didn’t lift the idiotic rule of banning zaunite guests at the place, and if he kept treating bottom side artists as his bouncers did last time.
Annoyed, she takes out yet another cylinder from the phonograph as it reaches its end. No version is ever going to do justice to the one she heard last week. Not one is even near, but perhaps she needs to accept the song is just not the same if a certain pink-haired trumpeter isn’t playing it.
A knocking at her room’s door breaks through the static playing through the phonograph.
Pinching in between her eyes with her fingers, she offers permission to whoever is on the other side. She can see Jayce’s head poking through, and she lets out a sigh.
“Hey” he greets with a smile, stepping in. Caitlyn looks up and she cannot help but scoff as she sees the white bouquet he’s holding.
“What on earth is that?” she says as she gets up. She goes near her record collection again, and keeps going through them. She’s already at the titles that start with J, so she has sixteen more letters to try and find a version that’s worth her time.
“Oh, the flowers? I guess…It’s just my attempt at an apology”
Cait remains silent. She knows Jayce felt guilty about having stopped her later, and she is indeed angry. But they both turn to look at the larger bouquet on Cait’s desk with a card from Hextech Records, Jayce recognizing it as the one he also received this morning, congratulating them both on the new partnership.
They can’t help a soft laugh when they look at each other again. Putting out a record together, and in such an important studio like Hextech, has been a dream they’d talk about even long before starting to play professionally. The anger fades a bit; even with the knowledge she might never see the zaunite girl ever again, there’s this opportunity in front of them that she cannot help but rejoice on.
“Come here” Jayce says. They shorten the distance between them and crash in a hug.
“We’re putting out a record” she mumbles with her cheek pressed against his chest.
“And closing out the festival” he adds.
Being the closing act of the Piltover Jazz Festival was also not a meaningless deal. Anybody who turned into somebody has closed it at some point, and Heimerdinger personally asking them to take that place had certainly left them shaken and honored. This is what they’ve been working towards.
“And” he says as he puts some distance between them and reaches into his pocket.
“I have something that might make you even more excited”
Jayce hands Caitlyn a crumpled and folded paper. She raises her eyebrow as he lays his weight on one side and brings a hand to cover his expectant smile.
Cait opens what appears to be a flyer with a print of the front of a bar. The name “The Last Drop” can be read in thick lettering. She looks at it confused, not recognizing the name or the address of the place.
“I can’t really stand to see you mope, so I did some research” he says, starting to walk towards her closet.
“Apparently ‘The Last Drop’ is a zaunite music club, owned and run by none other than the Vander Lane. You do know who that is, right?”
Caitlyn gives him an annoyed look. “Of course I know who he is”
Perhaps one of the best musicians to ever come out of both Piltover and Zaun. He is credited as the trumpet player on probably every single record in her collection that’s twenty years or older.
Vander was a respected sessionist long ago, played with most of the greats, even when having a zaunite in your band was enough to get you banned from the business. She remembers the stories about him, it’s almost a myth the way he suddenly dropped from the face of the earth right when his name started to get some pull. It was never confirmed what happened to him, if anything happened at all, or if he just simply vanished. Apparently, he was now a club owner.
“And did you know he has a daughter?”
The way Jayce is shuffling through the hanged clothes on her dresser is starting to get annoying, but suddenly the dots in her mind connect.
“Two daughters, in fact. And two sons. The man’s been keeping busy ” he starts picking clothing items and laying them on his arms, as if considering options.
“The Firelights” she days in disbelief.
“Correct. They are all his kids except for Ekko, but they were all basically raised together. He’s Benzo’s kid”
“Benzo, the drummer?”
She huffs out a laugh. Suddenly, this old version of “Ole Miss Blues” comes to mind, that album with both Vander and Benzo must be somewhere on her record pile. Thinking about it, she can find traces of their parents all over what she remembers of The Firelights’ gig.
Jayce nods with his head, making an agreement noise. He’s now looking at her shoe rack.
“May I ask what my wardrobe has to do with all this?”
“My investigation has led me to discover that every Friday there’s an open microphone night at The Last Drop. And that a certain trumpeter and her band rarely miss it. And tonight…” he says as he picks up a pair of black boots.
Cait’s heart skips a beat. This was a real chance at finding her, meeting her.
“Tonight it is Friday, my dear Caitlyn”