Isobel Fletcher stood pressed mere inches away from a dirty bathroom mirror attempting to cultivate some kind of showstopper look. This task was made more difficult by her lack in quality make up. As it was she could only use the last dregs of cheap products. A bit of coral lipstick and lightly rouged cheeks would have to do. Hopefully if things went well at the Half Note, she would be able to afford better make up. And better show clothes.
The only dress she had now was a classy but dull shimmery black number. She knew she was fortunate to have it at all given the current state of things with her and Ivory. They were only barely managing to pay rent let alone get food on the table every day. To Izzie though, the materialistic expenses were just as important as the ‘necessities’.
Once she deemed herself show-ready, she threw on a brown unattractive overcoat and went to find Ivory. Not too hard given the size of their living space. “Iv, are you ready to go? Don’t want to be late for our first day.” She called out as though she wasn’t the one holding them up.
Noah had been her best friend since high school, the two unlocking musical harmony together. There was no one else she would rather be with on this journey than him. No one else’s musical accompaniment would compliment her voice as well. “We’ve got a tough act to follow, you know. I heard Junie used to play there–just a few weeks ago—before someone important heard her sing and she got found. That could be me!” she said dreamily.
Maybe she’d been a bit single-minded since they’d arrived. But who could blame her? Here in the Big Apple where stars were born, lived and died. Iz worked hard to make sure that she could achieve what no one else in their hometown had been able to. She wasn’t afraid to step on a few toes to get there either.
“You look in the mirror and you have to see it, Annie. You are a star, you were born to be a star and that’s what you’ll become.” A voice of her mother sounded in Annabelle’s head when she was looking at herself in a mirror and applying finishing touches to her appearance. The bathroom of the Half Note was not the greatest place to do so but Anne wouldn’t complain. Not that she couldn’t do this at home, quite the contrary. But she liked to come a bit earlier, especially on the performing nights. It was not only about her own performance. She loved to watch the others set up the stage for themselves and get ready. Performances themselves was a whole another thing.
One deep inhale, slow exhale, last pecks of the red lipstick, Carmine Shadow they called it, and Anne was ready to leave the bathroom. But was she really? Was she really ready to stand up on that stage again to…well, not fail but not exactly succeed either? Annabelle Richards had it difficult. Child of famous parents, expectations were high...and yet Annabelle has not even come close to that yet. And maybe she would have given up a long time ago but there was that picture. Photo of her father, playing his trumpet on the stage, her mother at the microphone, wearing one of her beautiful dresses, her face radiant and happy. The picture was a definition of happiness, success and joy. And Anne wanted just that. Was that too much to ask? To hear the audience applaud?
Anne blinked several times, smoothed out her dress and curled her lips in a luscious smile. “Always have your show face on, Annie, no matter how you feel, whether you’re in pain or how much you want to cry. Your show face is what gets you through.” Her mothers voice again. And Anne, a good girl she was, really put that face on and left the bathroom, heels clicking on the floor and walked to her usual place at the bar.
“I might have come even earlier than usual.” she said, looking at Ilya, bartender and her good friend. Her perfectly red painted thumb flicked over the lighter and Anne lit her first cigarette of the night. “Give me a glass of mine, Ilya, would you?” she asked and took a deep drag. There were barely a few people just yet and it was fairly quiet. Of course, once the first performance was on the stage, the atmosphere would change. For Annabelle, this was night like any other. Except she was not working that night.
Her eyes were scanning the place as if she wanted to burn the image in her mind. A new performance was planned for tonight, Isobel Fletcher and Noah Lebeau. Anne was obviously curious what this new duet will bring to this scene. Though her main focus was still on the headliner, it has always been. Miles Linos was everything Annabelle yearned to be, he had all she ever wanted. No, this was no envy. Just endless admiration of how talented the man actually was. She could listen to him for hours. And tonight, he was following her act so she would have plenty of time to enjoy his voice.
Noah was sitting on an old mouldy couch in the "living room" area of the flat. He was ready to go a good half hour before Isobel was, wearing an old brown American cut suit Isobel's father had loaned to him for the trip. It was a poor fit on him, a little baggy and not quite well pressed as they had neither a press or had the money to get it pressed. They hadnt had money for much of anything, most going to rent and Isobel's makeup and clothing. He could not remember the last time they pair of them had a proper meal. He frowned at the thought life back home in Louisiana was not rich and had its issues but there was some comfort, even in imprisoned he got three square meals. Yet Isobel had to have her attempt to find her fame in the Big Apple and he could not leave her to do it on her own.
He surprised his frown and the instinct to groan when Isobel came out ready to go and rushing him as if he was the one to hold them out. At least they found this job with Half Note, he doubted this will be their path to fame he hoped the money that came from the job would at help step up their current lifestyle. "I am coming, I am coming." He said standing up and adjusting his suit before looking at her and forced a smile. "You look great."He said in his stoic manner. He meant it though, she did quite well with what she had to work with." Though that is no surprise."
He moved towards the door and picked up his coat and wallet. "Lets see how it goes, i am just glad to have a steady pay check." He commented as he checked his wallet. "I think we have enough her to take a bus. What is it the 45?" He asked as he opened the door and stepped aside to let her pass first.
Isobel beamed after Noah’s compliments. He never said nice things in a flowery obligatory way. When they were younger and Iz was just starting to get a handle on rouge, Ivory told her more than once that she resembled a clown more than a starlet. Besides, Izzie loved compliments.
“Thank you, Ivory. Looking dapper as ever. The first thing we should buy with our paycheck should be a new suit for you.” She said. “Or you could always as that little dolly downstairs if she’ll hem it right for you. You know she’s sweet on you.”
Ivory had that southern charm that proved to be quite popular amongst the northern gals. Isobel did have a doubt in her mind he couldn’t convince her to do it for free. Or possibly for the price of a little date.
She nodded along to his pragmatism. “Yes, yes. Steady paycheck for a steady life,” she teased. She exited gracefully and clacked tiny heels down the hall and to the stairs. “I think the 45 comes soon, let’s hurry.” She said picking up some speed.
The two made it just in time to board, though there was standing room only so she clung to a steel pore. The bar above was too high for her to reach even with her bitty heels. “This is going to be an amazing night, I know it.”
...It had been days since Nathan had last slept. The cold and damp floor of the pitch black prison cell did nothing to help his insomnia. Nor did the poor conditions do anything to ease the pain in his ribs and abdomen from the beating he'd taken two days earlier. It hadn't been his fellow inmates who had given him the beating - by all accounts, he was proving popular with his peers. No, it was two of the prison officers who had not taken kindly to Nathan's aggressive words in retaliation for them tossing his cell upside-down during a routine search. He'd earned himself a few days in solitary confinement with a bonus gift of a heavy beating before being locked away in darkness.
It was hard not to shiver as the small, thin sheet provided little warmth to him. He closed his eyes tightly, but to no avail. Then, the loud knocking sound could be heard. "Nate!" the male voice called out. That was odd, considering the wardens usually addressed him by his surname...
"NATE!" Eddie shouted as he opened the door. "Have you gone deaf or what? Time to get up," he told him. Nathan was working a late shift at the club, so he'd decided to take an afternoon nap and had asked his flatmate to give him a wake-up call. Eddie's attention was drawn to the newly completed colour painting of Times Square that still rested on the wooden easel. "I don't know how you find the time, Nate. Between work, drinking and entertaining fine ladies, I barely get time for sleep, nevermind being artistic! You need a woman in your life!" he teased.
**********
The Half Note
Nathan arrived on time for his shift and in a much brighter mood than the one he'd woken up in following yet another unwelcome dream. Smartly dressed and with a charming smile on his face, he was in his element as the club gradually became more energetic with more customers entering. A broad smile crossed his face as two older women came to the bar and requested their cocktails. They were in their early forties and good-looking, but neither in Nathan's age-range nor his taste. Still, they'd been in the club a few times before and the bartender had by now built up some familiarity with them, which permitted playful flirting. "Ladies, you are looking glamorous today," he complimented the blonde and the redhead. He hadn't noticed before now, but they were both wearing wedding rings just as sparkly as the rest of their jewellery. "I'll be keeping an eye on you two tonight. Can't have you running off with some young Romeos whilst those husbands of yours are home cleaning."
"Oh, behave!" one of the women protested as she rested her elbows on the bar. "Those two fools are out playing poker again."
"Ah, of course. They're missing out on who I'm sure will be a great night here," he said, pouring the cocktail into the fancy glasses and sliding them towards the two ladies. In all honesty, he was quite partial to a game of poker himself, but it wouldn't hurt to charm the customers if it meant they kept coming back. He took the cash from the ladies before sending a parting smile. "Enjoy your evening," he kindly told them before turning his attention to the next customer.
"Not even a hello, and to think you call yourself my friend! Might as well be a glorified drink fountain!" Ilya had always enjoyed the company sure but he liked to be greeted every now and then. "Blood sweat and tears go into these drinks I'd love a 'hello Ilya! How has your day been!' I swear nobody respects me here." The man was fond of his friends but teasing was a habit he just couldn't break. "I found a broken glass when I got here! Could have told you about that but now that story is lost to the ether, here is your drink." Even if he was playing around he had to do his job. Deftly having filled a long-stemmed glass with a deep red to set in front of her. "New people playing tonight, right? I cannot wait to give my review. I have not been wrong yet about potential and I do not believe I ever will. And I know this is a new drink but I need your opinion on it. I personally love it."
It was one of his best hobbies, having been at the Note for years he could tell who would stick around and who wouldn't. It wasn't even if they were talented, just determined. Even the worst performer could improve with time as long as they didn't give up. I just have a nice feeling about new people, I think they'll stick around." If they were lucky they would at least. Turnover could be brutal so he could only hope that people stick. If someone really tried he believed they would get things in order in the long run. He didn't know he was going to be a bartender at first, but there he was. Everyone had their place in the world.
"What's lined up for your next performance by the way? Still soul searching?"He found that fire something to be respected. He could never go up on that stage even if someone had him at gunpoint. "Well besides that do I have news for you. Found out the apartment next to mine has finally figured out their marital issues. Little lady kicked the loser out." This was an ongoing saga, nights of shouting matches heard through the wall had Ilya listening intently every single night. It wasn't like he could ignore it, the walls were far too think to not hear the woman shouting about that secretary. But he did try his best to pretend that he didn't know what was going on when they met at the mailbox in the morning.
Typical Ilya. His comment brought a wide smile to Annabelle’s face. She shook her head and looked at him. “Hello, Ilya. Would you like me to French kiss you as well to show you how good friend I can be?” she asked and batted her long eyelashes at him. “You know I love you more than anyone else here, right?” she asked with a wink. They both knew she was kidding but he was her special friend and Anne knew he would never get offended for a little bit of sarcasm here and there. That was exactly why Annabelle love spending time with him. People often told her how cute and adorable they were together and or asked her when they would finally make themselves public or whatever. But that was never the case. Contrary to what it might seem, Anne and Ilya were great friends, joking around, teasing each other, but it was never going to be more than that.
When a drink landed in front of her, she frowned for a moment as he was supposed to hand her a glass of bourbon. But this was…something else. “I know this is a new drink but I need your opinion on it. I personally love it.” he told her and she looked at him with raised eyebrows, took her cigarette in the left hand and brought the tall glass to her lips. She let the drink linger on her tongue for a while before she swallowed, immediately feeling warmth spreading to her core. “Hmm…sweet…what is it? Do I feel…rum? Hm, I might be wrong but…” she started and took another sip. “Anyway, don’t know what that is but I love it. You are a true miracle-worker, Ilya.” she smiled and raised the glass slightly as a praise.
In such a short while, the club filled with people. Anne also noticed the other bartender working. He was rather new and from those few interactions they shared, she understood that they were not really going to see eye to eye. Well, she couldn’t be everybody’s friend, could she now? Though she was also determined to find out what was his problem.
“Maggie comin’ today?” she asked Ilya, looking around, her eyes searching for her other friend. Honestly, if her mother saw her now, she would be everything but pleased. Places like Half Note were considered great for a performance in the Richards family. For having friends there? Not so much. Not that Annie cared, not at all. Of course, she could have been elsewhere every night, getting to know the family friends, making her own in higher circles but she simply didn’t want to. She was satisfied with what she had here and wasn’t interested in fake compassion of high society. No matter how rich she was or whatever, she never really flaunted it in front of the others (despite everyone knowing who she was) and tried to make a name for herself by herself.
“What’s lined up for your next performance? Still soul searching” Ilya asked and Anne genuinely shrugged. “Soul searching. Hmm. I’m gonna go for my mother’s favorite song tonight. We’ll see what that does.” she said quietly and her wide smile was slowly dissolving. God knew if that was going to be enough but she was definitely going to try. Though talking about it was never her favorite, not until she was going to earn at least a bit of appreciation from the audience. Thank god he changed the topic and started to talk about his neighbors.
“Did she? Wow, it was about time. From what you’ve told me, she should have done that months ago.” Anne said and took another deep drag, leaving herself one more before the cancer stick was finished. “So, does this mean you’ll finally get some good sleep and won’t be this grumpy old cat anymore?” she grinned and after one last hit, she finished her cigarette, putting it out in a crystal ashtray on the counter.
Noah grimaced at the mention of their downstairs neighbour. He was by no means shy or did not have an interest in women, he did indeed found that most northern girls liked his Cajun accident and the Creole French he peppered into his speech and took advantage of it. Still, despite the dolly being treaty he didn't like working his charms on her. "Ah non, she seemed a little too keen on me to try anything like that. I feel like if i tried anything i would find myself between an altar and a shotgun. Not sure if her father would be holding the gun or her." He shuddered at the thought as he entered the bus.
"I should prove interesting at the very least." He replied to her excitement of what is to come. Despite his understatement, had to admit, her excitement was radiating out from her was infectious, and he to felt the thrill of being near preforming on stage. As the rode he kept close to her, not liking how the bus shook as it went he kept a protective hand on her waist just in case she slipped. There wasn't many stops to the club, and he felt his excitement grow. "So sticking to the plan?" He asked referring to their performance. He usually left the decisions of their performance to her, he was rarely given the choice to do take the lead anyway, and he thought that was best. Still, he gave the odd suggestion if he had one.
The speaker crackled as Johnny pressed a heavy finger down. "Alright, that'll work. You're all good for the day, Milo." Miles nodded, long arms arching over his head in a slow stretch. It'd been a slow afternoon of plodding through radio spots and he had to pull himself back into his body. At least he could call it a warm up and he managed a smile as he joined his uncle in the booth for a cigarette, a ritual they shared after every session. "You've got a gig tonight, yeah? Buddy of mine saw you last week, was asking after you." Despite the light tone Miles could feel Johnny's eyes watching his face.
"Yeah, Half Note again."
"Said buddy owns a really swanky place uptown, he's looking for someone to do the dinner service.” Miles could picture it now, dim candles, plush chairs, bored wives and drunk husbands.
"If I find anyone looking for more work I'll be sure to let em know." Ash fluttered up from the already crowded ashtray as Miles stubbed out his cigarette. "Gotta get goin, I'll see you Sunday."
John sighed. It was a conversation they never quite had over and over again. ”Yeah, see you Sunday."
----
A quick stop at his spartan apartment for a shower and a change of clothes then Miles was back on the street, head down as he walked the familiar path. It was a nice night and it seemed a waste to take the subway. It helped that the walk always cleared the last bits of fog from his head. Something about moving, the solid force of his body, the brush of other people against his arms, all of it combined reminded him that he was here. Before he realized it he was at the club, pausing outside to enjoy the last bits of fresh air, or as fresh as it came here. It’d been a while since standing up in front of an audience truly made him nervous. If anything it was easier than just standing in the audience. He could already feel the energy of the stage crawling up his spine and he fixed a half smile on his face.
Half Note was already starting to fill up but Miles spotted what he was looking for right away- an unoccupied bartender. Nathan had been around long enough for Miles to know he could make a decent drink so he slid up against the bar, giving him a quick nod of greeting. “I know I’m not quite as pretty as your last customers, but I’d love a gin and tonic.” He glanced back over his shoulder as he pulled out a cigarette, exhaling thin streams of smoke as he turned back towards Nathan. “You know anything about the new talent?”
Isobel hummed along to the song she’d be singing later tonight. It was an original piece which was always pretty risky in a new setting but this was a fresh start. She didn’t want to be seen as just a cover artist. When Ivory asked her about the plan she nodded decisively, altering her stance to shift a little less with the sway of the bus. “Drop of Rain to start with, following by some Harmony.”
As they got off the bus and walked the last few blocks to The Half Note, Isobel was practically buzzing. Every step was taken with a little more bounce to it than usual. “I came by earlier to check out the stage. You’re gonna go mad when you see the piano they’ve got there, Ivory.” She told him.
Finally, the reached the club. Isobel’s smile was fixing to split it was so wide. A gentleman opening the door for her and she entered with a soft absent-minded, “Thank you, sugar.”
The place was stunning. All gold tones and warm dark wood furniture. Red curtain backdrop to stage that looked expensive and lush. She wanted to reach out and touch it. A patron bumped into her and she sprung back just in time to avoid getting bourbon on her. “Watch where you’re going!” she said furiously, but the man barely acknowledged her before drunkenly stumbling along his way.
“Ivory, let’s get a drink. Something warm for my throat.” She told him, still a bit peeved by the drunk. It wasn’t as though she had another outfit to change into. Even if her dress was somewhat protected by the overcoat, she’d rather not stink of alcohol for the rest of the night.
As he wiped away any wet marks from on the surface of the bar, Nathan's eyes briefly fell on Annabelle as she conversed with the head bartender, Ilya. There was clearly playful flirting from the blonde to the other man, but that wasn't really what got to Nathan. It was more the way she seemed to always be around the club. When she wasn't working there, she still managed to hang out at the bar drinking and socialising. It was clear she was pushing for a singing career, which he had no problem with and everyone should follow their dreams. It was more the snobby rich girl vibe he got from her. He hated to admit to having such thoughts for a woman he didn't really know, but he couldn't help it. His own parents had been snobby in their own way, always pushing him to do something that would make them look good and then distancing themselves, both emotionally and geographically, from him the moment he messed up. They'd even said words to the extent of it being his own fault Jenny had left him for someone else - for a man of a greater status.
Nathan was soon brought back to reality when Miles arrived at the bar and addressed him. "Ah, beauty is a subjective matter. I'm certain you have your fair share of admirers," he lightly assured him, flashing a smile. "Gin and tonic, coming right up!" Nathan set about grabbing a glass and mixing the man's drink. "The new talent? Yes, a singer name Isobel Fletcher and her musician friend, Noah... From what I hear, she's very talented so perhaps this could be the start of a bright future for her. Or maybe I'm romanticising things a little," he added, handing Miles his drink. "With you on tonight as well, I'm sure it's going to be a great evening. I already know some of the ladies in here are looking forward to seeing you on stage."
Noah nodded at her answer. They were both good songs, well practice by the both of them and some of their best worked. A bit risky putting one of their own songs into the performance on the first day of the job but he was confident about their song. He spent many a night on the piano aspect of the songs, enjoying it immensely especially when working with Isobel. It was one of those moments when even he could not help set his cynicism aside and get infected by Isobel's confidence and ambition. "D'accord." He replied simply as the bus stopped.
He climbed out of the bus with her and followed her towards the stage. He smirked and shook his head. "You know, i only care that it is in tune and plays loudly enough to be heard. Besides the point is for us to make them mad not them us." He said confidently before moving to open the door of the club for her only to have the door open by one of the valet. He frowned briefly but tried to shrug it off before entering after Isobel, giving the valet a curt "Merci."
Inside he indeed was taken in awe by the club, in his life he had never been anything so fancy in his life. In fact, he had the distinct and uncomfortable feeling of being out of place in this opulence. However his eyes quickly wondered towards the stage where a fine Bösendorfer black grand piano stood shinning in the soft light of the club. His exploration was cut short when Isobel was pumped into by a drunken customer. "Hey! "He called out almost at the same time as Isobel but was willing to go further, clenching his fist, however Isobel pulled him to a bar for a drink. "Fine..."He said with a huff. He sat in a barstool and ordered some bourbon for himself. He turned to her and noticed how angry she was. "Hey, i am the temperamental one here. Stick to be the voice of reason." He said to her jokingly.
If you really focused...I mean really focused, you would realize the amazing things a deep breath could bring to your soul. She could smell the residual aroma of cleaning products used to wipe down the counters. The hearty laughter of the rich, and the snickers of those who were just happy to not have been kicked out. There was the ice, shifting in the cool brown liquid that brought promises of a good evening. There were the trailing voices of couples leaving the establishment for fresher air, juxtaposed by the crescendo of amazed first timers. There were the inaudible whispers that no doubt held great anticipation of what was to come...and then there was that voice. The voice that always told you that everything would end in a humiliating disaster destined for the front page of the New York Times. Marty lifted her head up off the bar counter, and then groaned silently when she saw all of the beauty in her peripheral vision. Success was supposed to breed confidence, but for Marty, success was the disease. With every good review, with every laughing chorus, every...successful attempt at avoiding failure, the stakes got bigger. The crowds swelled and like magic, her nausea returned faithfully just as it always has.
"...Milk Mr. Bartender...milk please. Make that chocolate milk...I'm feeling a bit rebellious today...," Marty stated while doing her best to not make eye contact, or speak louder than necessary. She was never really a drinker. She didn't care for the taste; more importantly, she could probably become inebriated off of the smell alone. She let out another groan, practically faceplanting on the counter once more as she drew a blank while mentally going over her material. Once again she would have to rely on her ability to just get it right when it counted...but that only fed into her anxiety. Her then fed to her curiosity, compelling her emerald eyes to roam about the club. Everyone was so beautiful...she wondered if they were too pretty to laugh.
Isobel pursed her lips and made an unattractive face at Noah. “You know I hate it when you’re right.” She said. Iz really ought to put the interaction out of her mind. It wasn’t doing anything but taking up space that could’ve been better put to use preparing for the show. With a deep exhale through coral lips she composed herself. “C’mon, buy me a drink.” She said, wrapping her arms around one of his teasingly. “Something dark.”
The two of them made their way and stood next to a sharply dressed gentleman chatting with one of the bartenders. She wondered about interacting with the staff knowing that no one knew who they were. Surely they had some expectation of a new act was coming in but how likely was the club’s owner, Lawrence, to provide detailed descriptions? For now they were nothing more than other customers at the Half Note. With any luck she’d be able to over hear some gossip.
The joint seemed alive with people tonight. This was a pleasant change from when she’d visited earlier in the week. It could mean that weekends were better business, as was usually the case. Or—as Isobel was hoping—it might have something to do with them. Why wouldn’t people come to visit new talent? Especially when that talent included herself. She smiled quietly at the thought.
Miles let out a quiet huff of laughter in response to Nathan’s comment. Obviously an important part of being a bartender was keeping the customers happy so their jobs weren’t too different. Nathan flirted and joked, Miles wasn’t above making eyes at a few of the softer hearted audience members to get a reaction out of them. It’s all just work.
“Nothing wrong with a little bit of optimism, it’ll be nice to have some fresh faces around.” The nights had been bleeding together lately. He took his drink with a murmur of thanks, taking a quick drink as he listened to Nathan. Isobel and Noah. Neither name rung a bell, no one he’d seen at another club or pushing some earnest demo at strangers in a studio lobby. “Either they’re as new as they get or I’m out of touch.” A deeper drink this time as the bar continued to fill. Low voices like static in the back of his mind, the slightest crawling sensation on the back of his neck. He focused on his drink, the slight burn of carbonation and liquor. It wouldn’t do any good to get in his head about it all- there was already Anne’s set to worry about. So he just shrugged slightly as he swallowed, finger tracing through the condensation on the side of his glass. “Should be interesting at least, I’ll do my best to make sure none of our lovely guests leave unsatisfied.”