It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving and I was helping Carl wash glasses when a peculiar noise startled me, making me drop a glass into the sink, shattering it.

"Oh fuck meee," I swore, my hands diving into the sink to retrieve the heavy glass pieces of the pint glass.

"Don't touch that, I'll get it," Carl said, suddenly behind me, taking me away by the shoulders in a gentle manner. I looked up at him with a shocked face. He wrapped his hand in a towel and started to pick up the glass pieces with it, putting them into a bowl.

I stood there, still, watching him. My brain could almost not comprehend what was going on here. Could it be real? It seemed almost as if...ever since I had told him I am a woman he had been treating me differently, more gently. Like a man would to a woman.

But I couldn't think about that right now because of that noise.

"Carl, did you hear that?" I asked tentatively.

"Hear what?"

"You didn't? It was a-"

Knock knock knock knock knock. Five raps in quick succession.

My eyes went wide. I knew it.

"Carl, that's the safety knock," I said quietly.

"You sure about that?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. It's unmistakable. Nobody would do that unless they knew what it means," I said, my voice breathy in the startle.

"Let me get the door, though," Carl said. "Never know who it could be." His eyes darted towards the back wall of the kitchen, and I knew exactly what he was thinking.

"It's the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, though. You don't think..." I began, thinking, too.

"Business is business for them, doesn't matter when. I've seen them here on Christmas before, made them egg nog myself," Carl informed me, unwrapping his hand from the towel. "Kinda weird they'd use the kitchen door, though. Side alley and all. But let me get that."

He made his way to the door and I stood, watching him again. I knew absolutely that if I hadn't told him I was a woman he wouldn't have thought twice about letting me open that door. My body relaxed, knowing he was treating me as a lady, protecting me.

Around the corner, I heard the heavy metal door open and immediately sounds like rushing water reached my ears.

"Sir, this is Majesty Club? Is? Sir, I come inside? Please? Please, it's so cold. Please let me come inside. I heard this place...this place is...safe place?"

Shit. What was this? My eyes softened. The voice...was a feminine one, but not female. I bounced on my heels, readying myself and walked towards the door. As I rounded the corner, I found Carl speaking gently to a young looking boy with violently curly black hair and darkly tanned skin.

"You from Harlem? What're you doing all the way over here? Where's your coat?" Carl was asking him. He was towering over the boy, and the boy looked very frightened.

"I don't have coat, sir. I don't have coat. Please let me inside," the boy said, his eyes desperate.

It was my turn to take Carl by the shoulders and move him away. This was my territory.

The boy's eyes lit up when he saw me.

"Come inside, what's your name?" I asked him with concern.

"Oh Miss, thank you, thank you, thank you," the boy squeaked, tears choking his throat. He came in, rushing past us into the kitchen like a chipmunk with a dog after it. I went after him, trailing him, as he went to the back wall of the kitchen, as far away from that door as he could, as if we'd change our minds and kick him out.

"I refuse to believe your name is 'thank you'," I joked, joining him at the back of the kitchen. Carl didn't follow us. I figured he knew this wasn't his territory.

"Oh, it's Valentín. Cruz. Valentín Cruz."

"That's a pretty name," I smiled to him, trying to make him feel more comfortable.

"Is not name I prefer," he said, looking extremely nervous.

"What name do you prefer?" I asked.

"...Is Cha Cha? Like 'cha-cha-cha' dance?" he rushed.

How strange. But okay.

"Okay, Cha Cha, then. What brings you here today?" I asked.

"Well, I is-"

"Here, some chairs. Some sody pop for the kid. You want some food, kid? You're awful skinny," Carl said behind me, setting down three chairs from the tables on the main floor and handing some Coca Cola to Cha Cha.

"Get him some chicken," I said, adjusting the chairs in a friendly semi-circle. Cha Cha sat down immediately in the chair nearest to the wall and began to gulp down the Coca Cola like it was the spring of the Earth. Then his eyes stared at my face, half closed and hurt looking.

"What's wrong?" I asked gently.

"Your question," he said slowly, as if thinking, his expression unchanged. "Answer to your question is...I run away from home two weeks ago."

My breath stopped. No way. I gave him a small smile and sat in the chair nearest to him. "That's okay," I told him sincerely, "I completely understand."

"You do, Miss?" he asked, looking up at me like a sad baby puppy. It broke my heart.

"How old are you?" I asked, feeling such an unfamiliar feeling beginning in my gut. A pinching feeling.

"Fourteen," he answered softly, unsure.

"What borough are you from?" I asked seriously.

"Borough?" He looked very confused.

"Yeah, like Queens, Brooklyn, Manhattan, you know?" I said gently.

"Ah...no...I'm from Schenectady?" he said, looking scared.

Schenectady?! What the fuck?!

"You're an awful long way from home, then," I answered, quieted a little in my core. "If you're from Schenectady, how do you know about The Majesty?" What I really wanted to ask was, how do you know about the safety knock?

"Ah, the Majesty is known all around. Like Stonewall Inn, Corduroy?" he explained, starting to use hand gestures in his nervousness, maybe afraid his English was failing him.

Were those other places famous? Were we famous? It brought me outside of my own safety bubble and made me nervous like this kid was. "What brings you here and not those places?" I asked. Obviously from the outside, it looked like we were closed. Why was he here and not over at those places he knew by name?

He looked very frightened now. His hands curled around his seat, and I recognized that scared feeling. Oh my god. I had been feeling the same thing just two days ago.

"This is...female...club?" he whispered, as if someone would overhear, "female...singer? Comedy?" His face looked very inquisitive, and his eyes searched me, traveling over my clothes, my hair, my face. My heart curled in on itself.

"Cha Cha, what are you..." I was trying to make sense of what he was telling me.

"I want...sing," he said, his eyes lighting up suddenly. "I come here, because I want...sing..." he finished quieter, seeming to get scared by telling me this. But he didn't know. I totally understood what he meant. In my heart, I understood.

I smiled at him, and his face brightened again. "What do you like to sing?" I asked gently.

"Motown!" he chirped enthusiastically. "Supremes, Mary Wells!"

Oh my. I started giggling and he formed a kooky kind of grin. This grin became stamped on my brain. "We don't usually sing that kind of stuff here, but we could," I assured, trying to contain my laughter.

He looked like the sun had entered his body, he looked so excited. "We could?!" he gasped.

"You're a little young, but I'll get Paulie to make you up. He can make you look older," I nodded. I leaned forward and put my hand on his shoulder, looking into his eyes. He seemed to quiet with my serious expression. I began to speak to him in a hushed way, a friendly way. "Trust me, I get what's going on. I was fifteen when I ran away from home. The Majestic wasn't what it is now back then, but I'm glad it's what it is now, because we can help you. Really. You will not be going back to the place you had to run away from. Trust me, I wouldn't want you to go back if you had to run away." Feelings of strange love were welling up from my heart. I truly understood what he was going through. I wanted him to know that.

"Oh, Miss," he gasped. I felt very warm and after a second I realized he was hugging me, his very skinny body around me. I rubbed his back as he held onto me desperately, like a koala baby. Another strange feeling began to beat in my heart. One I had felt only recently, and it made me confused.

Footsteps started behind us and I whipped my head around. Carl was walking down the kitchen towards us holding a white bag from the chicken place around the corner. As he smiled at us in a fatherly way, I realized what this feeling was in my heart.

I felt like a mother.