The battle of wills on stage - of toss and tussle of lines, ideas, minds - had ended without conclusion, in his opinion. Though, the balance of spectator approval was clearly on her side.

Not quite the whirlwind she had been last night, she had still been powerful tonight.

She hadn't even cared for the noisy ovation clearly sent her way at the end of the play. The shrill whistles, the hoots and whoops, the few irreverent catcalls and slogan-like yells mostly from the male crowd only propelled her early exit.

She didn't run away this time. Instead, he had seen her walk her into the alley to their right that led to Caleb's one-room office.

Caleb. What was going on between him and her? Harry rued the fact that he hadn't arrived at the theater with time to spare. He could have witnessed some of the goings-on behind the scenes. He was still surprised at finding the girl - Roxie, that is - again as his co-lead.

There was another draw in discreetly following her to the office, where Caleb had taken to with a twisted mouth and a drawn face as if he couldn't stand all the applause. If Caleb could give the girl some advance payment, he could give him some too. It had to be advance payment for a week's run the girl had snatch last night. Nobody would run away with a day's measly portion which practically amounted to zero. If he too could wrangle some dough out of Caleb's tight fist, maybe he would be able to buy that bicycle sooner than he'd thought after all.

Reaching the unmarked door, he entered the tiny foyer. It was an extremely cramped space taken up by a small table and chair where a receptionist was supposed to be sitting in more prosperous times. The small area was brimming with two arguing voices that came from behind a closed door right in front of him.

The next instant, he was glued to that door trying to catch it all. They must have dived right into the argument. Harry had been only ten steps behind the girl, who had followed Caleb as soon as she saw him leave.

"For the third time, I'm telling ya: I haven't told no one about you. No one even knows your real name. What's the urgency?" Caleb's voice resonated with impatience. So ‘Roxie Bedelia’ didn't just sound like an alias. It was.

"I'm afraid the Men might be on to my scent here. They are looking for a truant."

"So what? Take a look around. This place is full of truants. All kinds of homeless girls and boys and everyone in between. Welcome to the same old New America!"

"I need you to find me a place to lay low for a few days. All this running around ... I can be trapped unawares."

"Well, I can guarantee that if you accept the real role I've been asking you to play, you would be an angel so deep in heaven, no devils would ever come find you ..." Harry winced at the leer in Caleb's voice and almost gave himself away by pushing against the door. Thankfully, there was no creak, and he steadied back into position by adjusting his weight.

"I swear if you go there one more time," the girl was clearly speaking through her teeth, "I can easily take out a tooth or two this time. You think I've lost it?"

"No, no, baby girl. I'm sure you still got it, but I'm not talking about those moves, am I?" This time such grease dripped from Caleb's greedy voice, Harry's hand was tempted to ghost its way in and leave a resounding slap on one pale cheek.

There was a shuffle of feet then and a scraping of object against object. The eavesdropper felt alarmed. Is he actually harassing her?

"Why did you return when you'd already taken the money and you obviously don't give a damn about my lines?"

"Lines? You mean those broken, half-ass words you put into that young wife's mouth, meekly acknowledging her role in her husband's demise, forgiving the crack addict after everything and begging for them to stay together? You call them lines? I call them spoof! No wonder you've trouble staying afloat."

"I don’t- You know what? This is my play! You can't barge in here demanding things to be your way. You are not running this show."

"Tsk. Tsk. Well, you can't quite help it, can you? Not with the threat of all the extra crowd leaving for good when I go back out there and run a little show of my own--mimicking how you just insulted me and rudely kicked me off the production. I'm sure my voice would arrest quite a few walking-away feet. Many more would happily come back for one last show brimming with real energy, rather than old, stale, stinky ideas bent out of shape to suit your egotism!"

"Enough of it." Caleb may have spat on his own rug. It wasn't past him for sure. "You are a bag of contradictions, you know. You stand here before me expecting--"

"I'm not expecting favors!" Harry jumped at the primal shriek of the enraged female.

"Then wha--"

"I'm collecting information from someone I happen to know, even if I loathe being in the same room with that someone."

"Okay. Chill. This is not the stage. My workers might be out there--"

"And would risk finding out how you lied to save your face the other night, when I ran away with - hello - my money that you owed me?"

"Seriously. You're a pest. Whatever it takes to get you off my back." Caleb was obviously doing something as he spoke and Harry felt like a pinch the wish to have a peephole into the room.

There was a pause followed by the sound of paper ripped.

A violent growl surprised him next and then, the sound of a chair thrown away against a wall.

Harry couldn't hear no more and rapped loudly on the door several times. The bastard had locked himself in with her.

"Caleb! Open up the door right now!" he yelled at the top of his voice.

In response, he only heard a thwack and a muffled yeowl as if the person in pain had clapped a lid on a scream in the last second.

The door opened the next instant, revealing a highly exasperated girl. His boss for the night, on the other hand, was bent low on the worn carpet, a chair toppled between a desk and the wall to his left.

Caleb was kneeling down nursing his gems, quite the tail between his legs. His facial muscles were spastic with the punch of pain.

Harry was stumped. His muscles were ready to butt in to save the damsel. Instead, this third surprise of the day had put the brakes on his chivalry.

The girl brushed past him, her upper lip curled up in scorn. She stopped at the threshold and turned.

"Next time you get petty, because that's who you are, I'll make sure my phone records the whole conversation. It would make a splash on Tatter Town Evening Online."

“Who would you send it as? Roxie Bedelia?” Caleb had turned his face into a halloween mask by trying to leer while still in pain.

The girl's snarl deepened but she left without a response. Harry lingered behind for a second, unsure. Caleb was in no state to lend an advance anyhow.

The automatic door to the outside clicked back into the jamb. Roxie had left the building.

-

"Hey! I can get you a place to sleep."

Of course the boy had followed her! Of course, he had heard everything! Sneaky weasel. He seemed to have taken care not to speak until they were well down the street out of Caleb's earshot. The closed off corner of Dane Street was now completely clear of any sign of the theater or its audience.

"What's it with you and running after me?" She had turned so suddenly, that he jumped backwards.

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, lady! I kinda overheard you back there. You looking to lay low for some reason? You can stay at my building."

She had already entered another vacant side alley across the street before he threw this pitch. Or, she wouldn't have taken kindly to an airing of her affairs to the shop workers still in the midst of closing shop.

"And why were you eavesdropping, again?" His helpfulness only brought out her snark.

"Had a question for Caleb." The boy shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "Small spaces, loud voices, one goes with the flow ..."

"Wait, you have a building?" She paused to examine him from head to toe with no attempt to hide the jest in her smirk.

"Of course not!" he chuckled pleasantly. "It's an old motel. Will be decimated in a month's time, some people are yet to move out. The owner kinda knows me, so he's allowing me to stay in the corner room which is already half-damaged ... just rubble hanging from the hinges, practically. So I struck a deal with him."

"I don't know how it works between rubble and sleeping arrangements. My answer would be 'no' regardless."

"I- I would be sleeping at my neighbors. Keep the room locked. I'll give you the keys. I've been homeless most of my life, you know… Streets, shelters … no place for a teenager all by themselves."

His use of 'teenager' over 'girl' kept her from resisting outright. No hidden condescension there. But she didn't wanna sound too easily trusting of him either.

"You haven't given me anything to make me say yes."

"My little brother lives with me. Why don't you come and check us out. He could put your mind at ease."

"Maybe. But I'm not looking for a sleepover. I need a place to stay and … I don't think it's a good idea."

She turned and would have bulleted forward but he spoke again, stopping her.

"I hardly have time to hang around at my own place with my three jobs. If you can put up with my brother, I won't have to keep arranging companionship for him while you're there. He can be annoying but he's a good kid."

A slew of questions rose like a cloud in her mind but she ignored them and kept playing wary.

"And? What's the catch?" She folded her arms and squinted her eyes.

He looked befuddled in reply.

"What are you gonna ask for in return?" She drew a breath of patience before asking.

"Well, your companionship would be return enough ... if that's what you're asking. Do you … cook?"

She wanted to laugh in his face but she had just found out he didn't have a home of his own.

"There doesn't have to be a payment and I can assure you there is certainly no catch," he spoke again. "None whatsoever." He gestured as if he was trying to placate, or worse, please. Why?

"Your wordiness kind of gives me a suspicion,” she countered. She should still not trust him, but her gut was acting demure.

"Just a bad habit. From the good ol' times." Again, eager to please.

"Hmm. I still don't know if I should trust you. What's your name again? Harry, right? So Harry, give me something. Show me something. Something ... that makes me trust you. Are you following me at all? Hello?"

Where did his mind keep wandering off to?

"You will have to follow me then to the apartment." He shrugged. "You'll see for yourself." Suddenly his tone was way too serious … a little but morose even.

"Is that a hook to lure me, with some nefarious purpose in there? Because if it is, trust me, I can fend for myself well enough. I've been doing that for ages!"

"No nefarious purpose, okay?" He checked his watch. "Look. My brother is waiting for me at the apartment. I want you to meet him. You will ... understand when you meet him."

"Find me at the Fairy Rock Corner in an hour in that case."

Conversation closed.

She turned and left, smiling at the thought of the befuddled look that must have re-emerged on that boyish face.