"Alright, that's one problem solved." Voss checked his watch. "Three in the afternoon. Let's see if we can find any other job opportunities."
The three strolled down the busy street, Voss scanning each storefront carefully.
"How about that place?" Voss pointed to a cozy Italian restaurant. "The officer said we don't need permits if it's a private venue."
They stepped inside. The restaurant was tastefully decorated, but it was afternoon tea hour, so there weren't many customers.
"Hello, can I help you?" a waiter approached.
"Yes," Voss got straight to the point. "Do you happen to need performers? We can do magic and acrobatics for your guests."
The waiter blinked at Tom and Jerry, puzzled. "Performers? You mean… those two?"
"That's right," Voss said enthusiastically. "They're very talented."
"I'm sorry, sir," the waiter replied politely. "We don't offer that kind of service here."
After five or six more restaurants and cafés, the answer was always the same. Either they didn't need live acts, or they thought animal shows didn't fit their brand.
"Why's this so hard?" Voss sighed, slumping onto the curb.
Tom and Jerry also looked dejected. Just a few hours ago, they'd basked in applause, but now they were being turned away at every door. Still, it wasn't surprising—New York's upscale businesses didn't exactly need the traffic a cat and mouse could bring.
"Forget it," Voss stood, brushing off his jeans. "We'll find another way."
They continued down the street until Voss suddenly froze.
"No way…" His eyes locked on a sign posted outside a grand European-style restaurant named Blue Danube. The chandeliers glittered inside, and guests dined in elegant suits and dresses.
On the sign, written in gold lettering, it read:
Urgently Hiring: PianistRequirements: Strong foundation in classical music; able to perform live.Pay: $500 per hour.Apply in person for interview.
"Five hundred an hour?!" Voss rubbed his eyes. "That's four grand for a full day's work! We'd be set for life!"
Tom and Jerry rushed over, their eyes practically turning into dollar signs.
"Wait a second…" Voss sobered. "I don't know the first thing about piano. With pay like that, they'll only take the best."
He turned to walk away, then suddenly froze, his gaze snapping toward Tom.
"Tom! You can play piano, right?"
Tom blinked, then gave a modest nod. In his world, piano was one of his many hidden talents.
"That's perfect!" Voss nearly leapt for joy. "I remember—you've done it before! You were amazing!"
Jerry hopped with excitement too, recalling Tom's incredible performances.
"But…" Voss hesitated, eyeing the golden restaurant doors. "Would they really let a cat play here?"
Tom planted his paws on his hips indignantly, his expression clearly saying: Don't doubt me.
"You're right, my bad." Voss grinned, ruffling Tom's ears. "We've got nothing to lose anyway. Let's go for it."
He took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then pushed open the glass doors.
Inside, soft classical music floated through the air, mingled with the scent of fine wine and perfume. The restaurant was even more stunning up close—silver cutlery gleamed, fresh flowers graced every table.
"Good afternoon, sir. Do you have a reservation?" A tuxedoed waiter stepped forward, eyeing Tom and Jerry suspiciously.
"Uh, no… I'm here to apply for the pianist position." Voss swallowed.
"The pianist?" The waiter gave him a skeptical look. "Do you have any experience?"
"Yes!" Voss nodded quickly. "I mean… my partner does. His level is more than good enough!"
The waiter raised a brow but gestured toward a polished black grand piano in the corner. "Wait here. I'll fetch the manager."
Voss wrung his hands nervously while Tom circled the piano with curiosity, and Jerry hopped onto the bench, grinning.
Moments later, a well-dressed man with sharp features and slicked-back hair approached.
"I'm Franz, the manager." He extended a hand. "You wish to apply for the pianist position?"
"Yes, sir." Voss shook it firmly. "I'm Voss, and these are my… partners."
Franz glanced at Tom and Jerry, frowning. "Sir, this is a fine dining establishment. Pets aren't allowed."
"They're not pets!" Voss quickly corrected. "They're my performing partners. And this cat—he's the pianist."
"A cat?" Franz blinked. "You're joking."
"Not at all. Tom's piano skills will exceed your expectations."
Franz pinched the bridge of his nose. "I understand you love your animals, but a cat at a Steinway piano…"
"Just give us a chance!" Voss cut in. "If he's no good, we'll leave right away."
Franz studied Tom for a moment. The cat's eyes gleamed with intelligence. Against his better judgment, Franz sighed. "Fine. Three minutes. Impress me, or you're out."
"Deal!" Voss grinned and patted Tom's back. "Go get 'em, buddy."
Tom gracefully leapt onto the bench, stretched his paws, and pressed a few keys to test the sound. His posture alone made jaws drop.
Then he began to play—Chopin's Nocturne.
The restaurant fell silent as Tom's paws danced effortlessly over the keys, each note tender, precise, and brimming with emotion. His music seemed to weave its way into every corner of the room.
Franz's jaw went slack. Guests stopped mid-bite, turning toward the piano. Even the waiters were stunned.
"This… this is impossible…" Franz whispered.
Jerry sat proudly at the edge of the piano, eyes shining with admiration for his longtime rival.
When the final note faded, the room erupted into thunderous applause. Diners stood, clapping and cheering, phones flashing as they recorded the scene.
"Incredible!" a woman exclaimed. "I've never seen anything like it!"
"This beats the concert I heard in Vienna," another guest gasped.
Franz stepped forward, his face torn between shock and awe. He looked at Tom, then at Voss.
"Sir, I must admit—I am deeply impressed. Your… pianist has the skill of a true master."
"Of course!" Voss puffed his chest. "I told you he was amazing."
"But…" Franz hesitated. "Hiring a cat as our pianist is highly unusual. I'll need to consider how our guests would react."
"Just look around!" Voss gestured.
Every table was abuzz, the applause still echoing, guests smiling and whispering about the unforgettable performance.
Franz took it all in, calculating like the businessman he was. The publicity alone would be priceless.
Finally, he nodded. "Very well. I'll give Mr. Tom a chance. But—there will be conditions."