STV-006
St. Valentine's Ledger
Patron: The Usuals
Date: Aug 9th, 1923 – Gold Coast District
Location: St. Valentine's
Proprietor: Nickels
Well, what do you know? You actually found another act. Or maybe she found you. That part ain’t clear.
Goes by Mags. A dancer, from what I understand. Slender, graceful thing. Moves like she ain't ever touched the floor proper. Like the whole world’s just a stage she’s floating across on toe-tips and moonlight.
Raven-black hair down to her shoulders but she keeps it in a neat and orderly bun. I could swear I caught a hint of freckles on her cheeks, but, ah—I didn’t want to be caught staring too much, did I? But I did get a good glance at her deep brown eyes. Rich like coffee at first glance, but if you catch 'em under the stage lights, there’s another glint there. Something glacial. Almost blue.
And that smile.
Well.
I could fall for a dame like that.
If only I weren’t already in deep with the Devil and half a dozen worse things. I suppose I shouldn’t dirty up a pretty face like that with all my smoke. Maybe she wouldn’t mind it though? Hard to say.
She don’t talk much, which is strange around here. Just nodded once when Glass-Eyes introduced us and went right back to stretching like her bones and sinew all exist just to move with the sway of music. Every move she makes has meaning. History. Maybe a little menace, too.
She ain’t a flatfoot, that’s for sure. Not just some stage-struck flapper hoping for a few rounds of applause. No, this one’s touched. Marked, maybe.
What’s the term for folks like us again? The ones who ain’t right. Who sees things behind the stage and keep on performing anyway? Whatever the word is, she’s one of us. Or close enough to fake it.
She goes on tomorrow night. Guess we’ll see what kind of song she dances to. See if she is one of our kind, or just another nobody spat out by the blusters of the Windy City.