A 1930's Harlem Cabaret IC thread

[Apollo Wilde]

As the day came to a slow close, so the lights of Harlem would flicker awake. Trailed by the strong powdered scent of rose, Madame Rose walked slowly back to her Flower Garden Cabaret.

The streets had been in a turmoil lately - and she wondered how it would affect business, and most of all, how it would affect her girls. The poor things….Like her extended family. But, why was she even worried? This was the oldest profession known to man - and as long as men were around and dealt with their wives, there would always be a call for women of the night.

The door with the faux roses carefully painted on it greeted her hand. For a moment, she mused over how it needed a new paint job - but that would have to wait until she figured out how much the girls would be pulling in. Oh - she knew she was fair; all she asked was the price of room and board from the girl’s earnings. Hell, they had families and duties too - who was she to cut in on that? Before she could open the door, the scent of something sweet reached her nostrils. That damn country girl. Shaking her head slightly, the plump black woman entered, removing her red hat.

The inside of the Cabaret was well-lit, evoked the feeling of stepping into someone’s living room. That was always a good thing - welcoming the men. There was the customary bar [ hidden within a closet for obvious reasons ], the large floor for dancing and performing….And the rooms upstairs for more…business. The kitchen was tucked away past the “closet” - one could look into it from the window behind the makeshift door. As she closed the door behind her, Irene swore softly as the oven door came down with a clang.

“Well if that don’t beat all! I ain’t burnt mahself in a while…..Shoots!”

Madame Rose shook her head again, unable to help a smile. It was customary for the half-injun girl to make some sort of sweets for that big Irish boy that brought the liquor; her crush on him was too obvious. From the smell of it, she would have to say tonight would be blackberry pie - Irene’s favorite.

“Reeny! You best stop foolin’ round back there and act like folks are coming tonight!” Rose called, even though she knew she didn’t have to. Irene knew the hours - nothing kicked off until it was dark. The place was spotless, due to Irene’s earlier cleaning, and remnants of the dinner she had cooked still lurked in the kitchen, for men whose appetites weren’t purely sexual.

“I’ze almost done, Madame Rose….!” Taking the pan from the oven with apron covered hands, she set it down on a small table, and began waving at it in a meager attempt to cool off the treat faster. Ah! But before it could do that…..dashing to the other side of the kitchen, she grabbed a handful of brown sugar and sprinkled it over the crust, watching it melt before she was satisfied. Wiping her hands on the apron, she walked out to meet the Madame. Flour covered the reddish-brown face, dotted the high cheekbones in a parody of war paint. Her thick hair, kept usually in two braids, were wound about her head and covered with a white head cloth. The rest of her remained hidden under a nearly threadbare blue dress - feet covered by slippers with broken down backs.

Madame eyed her slowly.

“You should be dressed already, not foolin’ around in the kitchen for that Irish boy! Scat!” She waved her hands upstairs in a dismissive motion. Irene sighed, and dashed up the stairs, knowing that it was better not to argue when she would be wrong in the end. With careful strides, Madame walked over to the bar, and let her generous rear settle on the cushions of one of the bar stools.

Any minute now, she’d find out how things would turn out….

 

[Armphid]

Fionn Keats

Fionn pulled the battered old truck to a halt int he alley behind the innocent looking building. He took a careful moment getingout of the small cab, feeling relived to be out of it. He stretched a moment, they just didn't make the damn things big enough for him. A few of the local Harlemites were moving around the streets already, and more than one paused a moment to regard the giant Irishman with uncertainty.

Fionn felt the eys on him, turned and smiled. "Good evening, folks." He tipped his hat to them, the slight lilt of his voice making clear what area of the world this particular cracker came from. A few, recognizing him, called out a greeting and moved on. None of them wanted to be invloved with what he was doing...at least not until it came to partaking of what he delivered.

Fionn opened the back of the truch and removed two plain unmarked cases from within. He set them by the backdoor, and then returned with two more. The usual night's compliment for Madame Rose's establishment. As per her request, he'd managed to get a little extra for the cabaret. Long as she came through on her end of the bargain, what was a few bottles? Before he knocked onthe door, he felt a momentary surge of guilt. "ah, using the mob money I earn delivering ilegal booze to pay for whores...if my notehr could see me now." Then he corrected himself, "These girls ain't whores, you big idiot." "They're ladies, you best remember." "Or Rose'll cut you off completely."

He shook his head, trying to shake off the guilty feeling that lingered behind as he rapped hard onthe door three times. "Water fer the flowers!"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Madame Rose and Irene

A little late, but maybe she was just clock-watching. The same sound of his voice would send Irene into a fit as she hurriedly tugged on hose, snapping them clumsily to her garter. How had he gotten there so fast? And how would it look without her being there to welcome him….?! Quickly lacing the white corset, she left the lace in the back loose. Really, you needed someone else behind you to tighten them…Narrow feet were slipped into white high heels and a crème colored robe was thrown over the entire affair. She wanted to wow him. As usual. Fiddling a moment with her hair, she just let it fall. Dashing down the hallway, she bumped another one of her ‘sisters’ out of the way to wash her face.

Hearing the commotion from upstairs, Rose sighed. “Dat girl is gonna be the end of her ownself. Lawd help me…..” With a heavy sigh, she lifted herself from the stool, thinking how old she sounded. But, with age came dignity, something that spilled from her like water off of a ship’s bow. Opening the back door, she smiled, thick red lips parting to reveal what were once dazzling white teeth….tainted by the cigarettes over the years.

“Ah, Fionn, boy - come right on in. You hungry? Ire-Jasmine made extra, so make yourself at home….” She stood elegantly out of the way, watching him. She never did figure out what that girl saw in these crackers, but he was a nice enough boy.

 

[Armphid]

Fionn

Fionn smiled down at Madame Rose, feeling self-conscious of his worl clothes as he always did around the well-dressed woman. "Good afternoon to you, Madame Rose." He pulled his hat from his head as he stooped to enter. "Thank you for your offer, suren a bit of something would hit the spot." He grimaced at the "suren," he still couldn't chake the brogue of his father completely, even after two years away from it. "If the lady is busy, please convey my respects, best cookin' I've had since I left home."

He tucked his hat into the back of his pants, then began to stack the boxes. Once he had them ready, he bent his knees and lifted the heavy crates with little more than a grunt. "I'll just put these in the usual place then?" "And just so's you know, I was able to get that bubbly you wanted." He grinned winking at her, "Suren some poor gent'll be a bit put out when his bubbly don't arrive, eh?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Madame Rose and Irene

“As soon as you’re done, go on into the kitchen. I think Jasmine made ya something special for yo’ dessert….” She chuckled as she heard those eager footsteps coming down the stairs. As “radiant” as she could be, Irene stepped down, her hair spilling over her shoulders, as glossy as a blackbird.

“As for men, seems like they’re only happy when they’re drankin’ and around women. Otherwise there wouldn’t be so many songs about either of em.” Reaching into her small handbag, she pulled out a slender cigarette holder. Placing a cigarette at the end of it, she lit it languidly, and took a long drag. Pursing her lips, she blew out the smoke in the direction of the vision in white.

Frowning, she waved the smoke from her face. “Madame, you knows I don’t like that!” Irene huffed lightly, before turning those bright dark eyes on Fionn.

“Hiah, Fionn…..” She smiled, full lips darting back over well-kept and uncommonly white teeth, before she stepped forward. A thin flash of embarrassment went through her at her horrid Southern accent, but she just smiled all the more.

 

[Xenocide_613]

Jimmy

Jimmy got out of the cab in front of the flower garden. "Thanks for the ride." He said as he paid off the driver, then turned to pull on his coat.

Jimmy was dressed in a black Italian suit. Madame Rose liked her girls to be sophisticated, and the same applied to her other employees.

Jimmy adjusted his tie as he walked toward the door. He opened the door and was greeted by the warm lighting. He noticed the house "Milkman" in the kitchen as he strode toward the "closet."

"How do?" Jimmy said, nodding to Fionn and Irene.

He turned to Madame Rose. "What you thinkin' you want for the playlist t'night?"

 

[Armphid]

Fionn

Fionn watched Jasmine's approach, his eyes following every movement the girl made. Guilt stirred in him again as he watched her. "Not the most pious of thoughts for a good Catholic, boyo."

He nodded at Jimmy as the smaller man swaggered past. "Evenin' to you sir." Then he beamed down at Jasmine. "And good evenin' to you, Jasmine darlin." "I see you're ready for the show already...and i'm glad for it." "I've been told that there're a few leftovers that a poor man might partake of in your kitchen." He moved as he spoke, carrying the bottel filled boxes to their ultimate diestination. He set them down carefully, then rose and rolled his shoulders. He turned back to Jasmine, "I don't suppose you'd mind keeping me company?" He lowered his voice to a conspiriatorial tone. "Also, faith preserve me if I eat somethig I shouldn't."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Madame Rose and Irene

“Anythang you want. I don’t really care.” murmured Madame as she flicked ashes off to the side. “I ain’t expecting that big a crowd. Word on the streets is that there’s hard times a comin’. Cracke-, I mean, white folks done gone crazy. Jumpin’ out of windows and the like.” She took another slow drag. “I would like to thank” -she exhaled, sending the smoke through her nose like a brooding dragon- “that more men would come in to loose their troubles, but if money is tight….So play whateveah you want. You know Jasmine’s gonna be the only one dancing. Just like them country niggahs. Dancing all the damn time.” Another flick of the wrist to shoo ashes away. “And wid dat injun in her system, you better play something with a heavy beat.” She smirked. Her comments were meant in jest - an endearment, almost.

Sticking her tongue out playfully at the older woman, Irene placed her hands on her hips. “Youse just jealous you cain’t dance like ah can!” Turning back to Fionn, she smiled and pulled the edges of her robe tighter about her form. “I cain’t show you nuthin yet, Mr. Fionn sir…But I can make sho that you can git sum food in dat body of yours.” She gently placed a hand on his chest, before withdrawing it as if she had been burned. What was she thinking? Being that forward…Really now.

“Follow me then”, she said, letting her hands slip down to her sides. “I got sumthin I’m sho you’ll like.”

 

[Xenocide_613]

Jimmy

The yankee smirked at the conversation and nodded agreement with Madame Rose.

Jimmy chuckled and went to the piano. He pulled back the bench and sat, flexing his fingers. "Just a little warm up..." He muttered under his breath and started the opening of Joplin's Maple Leaf Rag, played with heavy accent on the downbeats, per Madame's request.

 

[Armphid]

Fionn

He smiled at Madame Rose's comments. After two years of living in Harlem, one of the VERY few white residents, he was used to this kind of humor. But Jasmine's touch stole a response form his lips. He hoped he hadn't blushed. "Suren you do, Jasmine." He delighted inthe double meaningof her words, wondering if she'd done it on purpose. "An' I'll be happy to see what it is." "As fer your dancin,' just remember these city folk got two left feet." He winked at her, "Got to remember that it's hard fer them to be beat by country bumpkins, don't you know?"

He followed her into the kitchen, watching the sway of her hips. Narrowly missing banging his head on a hanging lamp, he reminded himself that it wasn't good manners to gawk at a lady like that. Besides, he's brainhimself good if he wasn't careful. "So Jasmine...ye're going to be alone on stage tonight?" "That's a first, if I reckon correctly."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Madame Rose and Irene

The music thudded out, with no audience but for the Madame. Each drag on the cigarette became more and more thoughtful. Before she knew it, she was sucking the ash from the filter. With a frown, she plucked free the cigarette and ground it under a high heel.

“So….Piano Man, what do you think of us colored women…..?” It was really an idle question, borne of her boredom and brooding concern over the recent events. “Or are you just here for the music?”

“I ain’t no bumpkin!” Irene pouted to Fionn. “Ah got the makings of a moving picture star! You jess wait and see!”

“Not talkin like that you don’t.” Called back Madame.

Leading him into the kitchen, she sat him down and picked up a plate. Heaping food on it, the smell of smothered chicken, greens, and cornbread would toy with his nostrils. “Ah don’t thank no one’s gunna really be dancing tonight. It seems like it’s gunna be slow….” She sighed as she moved the pie to one of the counters. It had cooled, but it was still pleasantly warm. “Whatcha want to drank?”

 

[Xenocide_613]

Jimmy

The piano stopped halfway through the second theme as Jimmy pondered the question.

"I think of colored women like I think of white. Womens' women. All the same ta me. I ain't much for all that rascism bullshit."

Jimmy walked to the bar and made himself a G&T.

 

[Armphid]

Fionn

The smell of the food set before him was heavenly. He closed eyes and took a deep breath, savoring it. Then he began to dig in, trying to restrain himself from wolfing the delicious meal down. He considered water...but it had been a long day. "Whiskey would be heavenly right now, thank you." "I believe you will be a star, Jasmine." He wasn't sure, but she could do it. She was certainly pretty enough, sang well, danced well. He gestured at the plate in front of him, "Though I'd say you could open a restaurant instead and never want for money again." "You're the best cook I've seen in this whole damn city," here he winked again, "and ye may just give me Mum a run for her money."

He looked out the kitchen door to the empty hall. "I reckon you'll be busier than you expect." "Lot of folks feel the need to forget their troubles these days." "But even if they don't, I'll be here to see you." He smiled at her, thinking briefly that if he wasn't a runrummer and she wasn't wearing lingerie under that robe that the scene was almost something you could see in homes across the country. "It always gives me spirits a lift to see you on stage." He gestured to an empty chair, "Won't you join me for a bit?"

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Madame Rose and Irene

“Well goddamn.” the Madame hissed good-naturedly, moving out of his way. “Or maybe you jess one of them boys that like other boys. That’s been around for a while, too. I know someone that can git you want you want.” She laughed, before crossing her thick legs. “Either way, Jasmine went and made herself a pie. If you want some, I suggest you git to it before that big Irish boy eats it all, or ask her to put you a piece aside.”

Irene paced, slightly nervous. So much for her acting skills.
“Ah would hope so, but there ain’t much work for a colored woman nowhere. But I cain’t let that get me down, no sir…! But Ah thank yah kindly fo‘ yo‘ support.” Pacing over to the ‘closet’, she reached through the small hole. Madame, watching the hand flounder, placed a bottle in it. With a small grin, Irene opened the bottle, and set it down in front of him. At his compliments, her smile grew brighter, and on instinct she looked down, wrapping a black tress around her finger.

“Cookin’ and cleanin’ around here makes mah own profits a bit fatter. That way Ah always got stuff to send home to the family. I got a letter jess the other day saying I got a new little brother and one of my sisters done had her a little girl….” Nervously, she sat down beside him. While he ate, she studied his face, and sighed deeply, inwardly, to herself. Those eyes were just…Why, he could be a movie star if he wanted to! And even moreso, she liked the way he talked. Funny but nice at the same time. Inching closer, she rested her elbows on the table, and then her chin in her palms. Languidly crossing her legs beneath the table, she was content just to watch.

 

[Armphid]

Fionn

He pushed the plate away, feeling full witht he best meal he'd had in weeks. Fionn took a long pull from the bottle, only grimacing a bit at the bite of the liqour. "Ah, a meal fit for a king, and no mistake." "Thank you kindly, Jasmine." "If I get more of this fare, I'll have to add a few more deliveries to the schedule or I'll get to be as big as..." he jerked his head out toward where Madame Rose was sitting, eyes twinkling mischeviously, "..some of those rich folks."

Her scrutiny of her made the big man a little nervous. What was she looking at? Still, she moved closer to do so and he had no complaint there. It also gave him a reason to watch her. Her small, delicate face was so lovely. Almost like the fancy dolls his sisters had stared at in the store windows...save for the brown skin.

"Nice that you hear from home." He took another pull fromt he bottle, feeling the need to dullt he pain that came up at remembering where he had come from. "It's been a year now since I heard anythin', though i should'nt be surprised." He smiled a bit sadly, "It was nae a happy parting."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Irene

Catching the direction of his eyes, she laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as not to be too loud. Despite that muffling, her eyes sparkled with amusement. When her sides had calmed, she smiled at him again. “There’s a blackberry pie if you want it, too….Ah made it this evening in….hopes that you’d come byah…” she twisted the edge of her robe shyly.

Her features were…an interesting mix of both parents - but truly, there was nothing delicate about the hard edges that her bones created in her face. Not quite aggressive, but not quite fragile, either. Noticing that he had spotted her in her little spying game, she stood a bit quickly. “Ah’m sorry, but Ah jess thank you’re handsome, is all….like you could be in one of them picture shows, too…!” Her facial expression fell with her sudden concern for him. Brows that looked like they had been ink-brushed onto her face knit, and she laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Ah’m sorry to hear dat - folks should always have dere kin around. Ah…don’t thank Ah could go back home like dis. Not yet, no how…..” She forced her expression to brighten. “But Ah ain’t about to bring a cloud to your day! Have sum of dis pie.” She took it from the counter, and pulling out another plate, set both items down on the table in front of him. His clean plate she deposited in the sink.

 

[Armphid]

Fionn

Fionn laughed, "I'll be glad tae have a bit of pie, and thak you." He watched her as she removed the dishes, then cut himself a large piece of the warm pie. "You needn't worry about clouding me day." She thought he was handsome. Him! "Is nae every day that a lout like myself has a pretty girl tell him he's handsome, let alone make such a pie for him." "Truth tae tell, you've made my day bright in the last few minutes." Maybe it was the drink but he was feeling brave, "Ye always do."

Unsure of whether or not to go on, he dug out a bite of pie. It tasted even better than it has smelled. Sweet, warm...a lot like her. He wondered if he should tell her that. Nah, that was for poets. "The pie's marvelous, Jasmine." "Feels like from home, baked with care."

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Irene

“Well, de way Ah see it, it’s jess the truth! I thank yo’ eyes are the prettiest thang. Like….The sky, almost. So clear and blue…” She cut herself off, her dark skin flushing as she glanced away. Damn - she’d said too much. “But what’s that comin’ from a colored? Ain’t nothin’!”

Taking her seat beside him, she beamed, feeling flattered and proud all in the same moment. It was almost too much for her…There was something about him and those wonderfully clear eyes that suggested honesty, and she liked it. Her expression brightened - the smile reached from ear to ear.

“Ah’m glad you like it! Please, have as much as you want…! Take it with you, if you was fixing to go anytime soon…..” It was said like a dejected question - she didn’t want him to leave.

 

[Armphid]

Fionn

Fionn smiled tenderly at her, adn leaned close as he spoke. "Ye're right." "Comin' from a colored, it don't mean a thing." "Coming from you...it means a lot." "Don't sell yourself short, Jasmine."

He leaned back away from her. "Think I might have a bit more, since you offered." He cut himself off another section. "As fer leavin'...well, I think it might be better for the spirit of the club and the noses of the patrons if I went home and changed." He looked back out to the main stage. "I don't think Madame Rose would appreciate my lounging about her cabaret in me work duds." He really didn't want to go. He hadn't gotten a chance to talk to her like this before. "But I think ye'd be the better judge o' that." "If ye think I'pass muster as is, then I can't think of anywhere I'd want to be more." "If you think me clothes might offend, then I'll go get me suit and be back fast as a hare." "I mean to see you tonight, for as long as I can." Damnation. He hadn't had that much to drink. He shouldn't have let that last bit slip.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Irene

She blushed, and her hands went to cover her mouth in an oddly demure fashion. But those eyes, those coffee bean eyes, glittered with her appreciation. Taking a few moments to collect herself, she slowly moved those hands, unable to hide that smile any longer.

“Ah….Ah…Think that you’re dressed jess fine, really. Ah seen much worse, and Madame dunn really care. As long as ya start no fights….” Her hand drifted from the table to rest on his lightly. Fingers lightly closing in on his palm, she felt her heart go a million miles a second before she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. But with him, nothing seemed like business…! It was all fun. And since tonight seemed like it was going to be slow, it meant she didn’t have to turn any tricks, thank the Lawd. Not that she had to all that much, but still…

But how had he wanted to see her….? Talking like this….or some other way? She glanced up to him, the smile wavering ever so slightly in the face of that doubt. But…either way, she didn’t mind seeing him…but she knew she preferred the former. “Ah…feel the same way, actually.” She smiled at him, pushing her hair from her shoulders.

 

[Armphid]

Fionn

Fionn smiled, an almost shy smile. "Well...I'm flattered that ye say so." She was uncertain about what he wanted. Well, he knew what he wanted. He also knew that this wasn't the time for it. Like he had reminded himself before...these were ladies. He'd treat her as such. "I'll stay around tongiht as long as you wish me to." He engulfed her small hand in his, taking care not to hurt her. What would Madame Rose think though? 'Course she might think that Jasmine had lured him in for the evening. So much the better.

"Truth tae tell, I been wanting to have you to myself for a while now." "This's the first real talking we've been able to do." "I think I'd enjoy making a night of it." His blue eyes stumbled across hers, and he stopped speaking, just letting himself fall into the warm depths of her dark eyes.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Irene

Finding her hand in his, she looked up into his eyes, studying him for a moment. Her fingertips grazed the rough calluses of his palm, lining the base of his fingers….and she sighed softly. Reaching out, she put her other hand on top of his, and squeezed ever so lightly.

She honestly did not know what to say. In the movies, they would kiss now….but, she wasn’t in the movies. She had to think this out clearly. With her usual bright smile, she held his eyes with her own.

“Then Ah’m glad to hear it. Ah’m also glad I got up to catch you before the other girls did…But….Ah also think it would be much quieter and less chance of interruption in mah room.”

Catching the hint of relucance and surprise in his eyes, she laughed. “No, it ain’t like dat! Ah mean, jess to come up to mah room to talk. Ah think if we bang on de wall from time to tame, Ah don’t thank the others will be botherin’ us. Although….if ya really ain’t in no hurry, it would be nice for you to spend de night. Ah could treat ya to a decent breakfast…! Unless….someone would miss ya….?”

 

[stalwartone]

Sammy

Sammy let his feet do the walking, only faintly referring to the directions he'd received. He was a stranger to this city, let alone this section of New York, but his information had been good, and he was careful to not act like he had multiple sources of confidence on his person.
Close examination of his clothing would show his fashion flaws. Minute tears had been carefully mended in the sleeves of both his shirt and his coat. The shoulders of his jacket were slightly faded, his tie was touched with a black dye to cover it's age, his suspenders sagged a bit and his hat brim didn't snap quite as stiffly as it once had. Still, his shoes were polished, his gloves were calfskin, and cigarette case a glossy silver. From a distance, and with the proper flourishes, none of the flaws would be significant. Hell, how much of the country was making do, keeping their spending to a minimum. It was a good thing he didn't know the first thing about running a farm or a business. Too much chance in those things, after all. Give Sammy Luchese a good card game, or a couple of trusting people with a yen for a good deal. Hell, he'd even managed to sell some stock in the old Guudeenuhf Horseshoe company on the train ride out of the Midwest. His father had pointed out that he should have been born a generation earlier. Between the entrepreneurs that flourished after the Civil War, and the railroad contracting companies that nearly brought down the Transcontinental Railroad, he could have been worth a fortune in those days.
He stepped carefully, watching where his feet fell, more to preserve the polish on his shoes than from any fears of stepping in a hole. He needed to preserve the image of respectability, even if he was going into Harlem. Many deals had been lost because someone didn't like a small detail, like a piece of food in the teeth, or a weak handshake.
The one thing he didn't feel afraid of was the respectable, or disreputable, members of This Thing Of Ours. New York had their share of the brotherhood, but they lacked the political connections here that other cities had. New York was Tammany Hall territory, where an Irish surname held more prestige than an Italian one. Here in New York, he could move in relative invisibility. Sure, there might be a headhunter or two that might have gotten the word from the Marinellos, but bounty on him wouldn't be large enough to risk any serious actions from them.
He'd been forced to part with some of the money in Saint Louis. He'd needed information, as well as a direction, both from a safe contact. Sergio "Soupbone" Graziano had offered both, at what was really a reasonable price. Soupbone was a respected man, a veteran of earlier unpleasantness, and not formally adopted by any of the families. It was well known that Soupbone traded to anyone with the cash, and that his information was almost always exactingly correct. After his flight west, followed by a slow return to the Midwest, the train ride to New York had been calm and measured. He'd been put in touch with several people in the off-Broadway scene, men who had lost their drive or their creativity years past. A bit more of the Marinello family money had rented a theater with an apartment attached, purchased some old material from a songwriter beyond caring, and a workcrew to at least make the stage look good. Now, for someone to be in the project.
Soupbone had provided the name of a house of entertainment that offered talented exotic women. Sammy couldn't guess how the old cook had known about this place so far from his home, but the details had been exact, and Sammy found himself staring at the building, precisely as Soupbone had described it.
Sammy paused, pulling a cigarette from his case. Only four left past this one, so he'd better enjoy it. Maybe there'd be some for sale inside. With a practiced motion, he lit a match on the nearby wall, then puffed resolutely at the smoke until it burned to his satisfaction. With a calm movement, he looked both ways, then both ways again, smoothly and without seeming to actually see anything. Then, when satisfied that he was alone, he tapped at the door in the cycle that Soupbone had specified.
Time to find a star.

 

[Apollo Wilde]

Madame Rose

She wanted to be annoyed at the knock, but business was business.

Rising from her stool, she strode over to the door to open it, annoyed that Irene had occupied herself with another task. Not that the girls usually opened the door, but still. It was like she had chosen to take the night off because her little interest was here. The other girls were sleeping in, or taking care of their own business with all the chaos that had been swirling about….

She wondered why she even opened the Cabaret in the first place this night.

Heels giving her an extra boost in her height, she didn’t have to stand on her tiptoes to peer through the sliding -hatch through the door. A click of the heavy wood, and those black eyes studied the new customer. A bit out of style, but those were the heaviest drinkers. The type that usually got too drunk to do anything else….and didn’t flare up at her girls.

The door opened, allowing the man to enter. Standing by it, she placed a hand on a wide hip and nodded to him.

“I’m Madame Rose - and welcome to my…bare Garden. We weren’t expectin’ any sort of company, but since you’re here, I’m sure you could use a drink.”

 

[Rhovan]

Otto Weiss

Otto ushered the last of the days 'patients' out the door. He shut it with a sigh and looked at his kitchen table in the studio apartment. The table was the only real furniture, aside from two chairs arranged around it. His murphy bed was in a closet like door structure, and that was all there was to his place. He had a tiny sink for cleaning, but no washroom or kitchen proper.

Of course his table was covered in a myriad of items. A basket of rolls, a plate of corn bread, a stack of freshly laundered towels and sheets, a small container of rubbing alcohol, roughly 60 cents in change, mostly pennies. This was his payment for his 'clinic.' They came with their minor ills and hurts and pains and he did what he could to help them, black, irish, italian or what not. He tried his best to help everyone, even when they couldn't bring him anything as 'payment.' Of course Otto still had to do odd jobs since his 'clinic,' could hardly bring in enough for him to eat on(even including the food payments) let alone afford his rent.

But Otto needed a drink...a good stiff drink. He was dog tired, and lonely. When he walked around and looked about, he was saddened by the small number of blonde haired, blue eyed men. But he delt with it. He pulled his jacket on over his white shirtsleeves. He striaghtened his hair as best he could and left his apartment. He walked straight backed and quickly, hating wasted movements. He took the complex twists and turns, up and down alleys and across the streets of harlem.

He was looking for the Flower Garden Cabaret, he had heard about it for setting a young mans broken finger...it was his payment. He eventually made his way to the slightly faded door, painted with flowers. He looked over himself, noticing that his clothes were clean and well mended, which showed he couldn't afford new clothes, but took care of what he had. He wore loafers, pleated slacks of once high quality cotton, and a black jacket over a white shirt. Running his hand through his hair to make sure it was sitting right, he reached forward with a knuckle to pound out the staccato on the door that he had been told about.

"Gods I need a drink..." he thought to himself as he waited on the door step.