"There's a saying old says that love is blind,

Still we're often told seek and 'ye shall find...

So I'm gonna seek a certain lad I've had in mind."

Her voice swept over the crowd that listened intently. She probably was the only one aside from liquor who could calm the crowd of a speakeasy.

She couldn't really see their faces, each individual person just a silhouette. There was no race or gender from her perception, the only thing she could see was the spotlight that gleamed down on her. The only thing she could feel was the attention of all who listened in on her voice.

This was by far her favorite time of the night, or should you say the morning. When she would sing a final closing song to send off the crowd into the next day's morning mist. Their opulent clothes contrasting the everyday attire of the pedestrians who bustled along the street above the basement.

"Won't you tell him please to put on some speed

Follow my lead, oh, how I need

Someone to watch over me..."

After the end of the song, the applause of the crowd was a low murmur that vibrated throughout the room. Most of the crowd began to arise and get their things to go home. Many of them far beyond the point of liquid courage and nearing a coma.

"You did great, Gigi." A tall, dark skin and handsome man told her.

"Why, thank you." She smiled back. "I've never seen you around here."

"That's because I just moved up here from Louisiana." He smiled. "Taking advantage of the opportunities that our folks have up here. And might I say, it was certainly a pleasure to see your set tonight."

"You flatter me, Mr...?" She drew out her words, kneeling on the stage so she could outreach her arm.

"Herbert Johnson." He reached up to clasp her delicate hand. "You're beautiful, might I add."

"Thank you, Mr. Johnson, but I hear men saying that to me all the while. And only was sweet to me when I was of a more delicate age." She spoke. "But coming from you, I'll have to accept the compliment. You being so handsome yourself."

"You've buttered me up, Gigi." He smiled.

"Eliza." She whispered.

"Come again?" Herbert asked.

"The name is Eliza." She repeated.

"Eliza." He grinned. "Well, Eliza. How would you enjoy me taking you out for a time of gags?"

"Sounds amazing, but if we must, then it has to be on my terms." Eliza told Herbert. "Are you in the phone book?"

"I haven't had a phone." He laughed. "I'm not a wealthy man, Eliza, just one devoted to you."

She laughed. "Well, write down your address and I'll see you when I can."

"My address?" He asked.

"Yes, your address." She clarified.

He shifted the weight on his feet and shook his trench coat tucked under his arm in front of him, then proceeded to put it on. "What's a little lady like you doing showing up at a man's house?"

"Well aren't you snippy? Is that your Southern Hospitality?" Eliza asked. "You act as though you didn't meet me in a place that transcends the virtue of your average woman."

"I guess that puts me in my place." Herbert smiled, and what a bright smile he had. He thought for a moment, then settled on letting his attraction for Eliza rest. "I suppose I'll see you here if I'm to meet you again."

"I suppose so." Eliza stood up. Herbert gave her a tip of his hat, then swiftly turned to join with the flowing crowd out of the basement.

Eliza sighed. Yet another man didn't find her occupation fitting. She hoped she would see him again, but it was highly unlikely. After going backstage, she went into the small closet that was passed off as her dressing room.

In the old, decrepit space that Eliza was expected to call her own, sat flowers on her vanity. They stood out amongst the almost colorless, beat up furniture of the room. Eliza did her best to make it up, she added a scarf over a lamp here and a fur over a chair there. But it didn't help the ambiance of the room much.

Walking to the vanity, she picked up the decorative flowers. She knew exactly who they were from.

Yet again I missed another show. I'm sorry, my love. Count on me to see you real soon.

-William

"You still talk to that white boy?" Asked a voice behind Eliza. She jumped to find it was just her friend, Bessie. She was a yellow bone chorus dancer at the speakeasy.

"He never comes to see my shows these days." Eliza placed a hand on her hip while she flicked the small card onto her vanity. "It seems like the only time he wants to see me is when I can give him something."

"Hey, if I was involved with a guy as loaded as him I'd give the kitty up too." Bessie crossed her arms. "Ain't no harm in entertaining him."

"You know I'm not after that." Eliza corrected Bessie. "I don't want any part of that life."

"Oh come on." Bessie rolled her eyes. She looked back into the hallway, then slowly shut the door to Eliza's dressing room. After tip toeing to where Eliza sat in front of the mirror, she began to whisper. "Isn't it exciting dating a mafia guy?"

"It's a little too exciting." Eliza answered as she peeled off her artificial eyelashes. "Never know what's going to happen with him."

"But that's part of the fun." Bessie energetically proclaimed, outreaching her arms on either side of her as she looked at her friend in the mirror.

"It's not fun when he shows up to your home all bruised up from Lord knows what altercation." Eliza mumbled. "I just don't know if it's worth it."

"Of course it's worth it." Bessie crossed her arms.

"What's worth it?" Asked a third voice. Both Eliza and Bessie looked, and it was the manager of the stage acts. A high yellow tyrant who made sure that all the girls were in check. Her job was right below the boss, and she followed his orders whichever way she saw fit.

"Nothing of importance, Fern." Answered Eliza. "We were just bumping gums."

"You'd better." Fern said in a warning voice. "I hope you're not bringing that criminal up in here."

"William hasn't come back here in weeks." Eliza answered. "You've got nothing to worry about."

"Good. The boss says we needs to be cleaning this place up." She nodded. "And that means no more gangsters."

"I really don't know how that'll work. A lot of the men who roll through here are gangsters." Bessie commented. "We get our alcohol from gangsters, it makes no sense that we treat them any differently."

"It's boss' orders." She insisted. "What Mr. Bosnis says, goes."

"Alright, heifer." Bessie said under her breath, causing Eliza to swat her slightly.

"What did you say?" Fern asked.

"I said alright, sister." Bessie said louder with a wide smile. Fern felt something else was going on, but she decided to leave them be.

With one last stare, she began to shut the door back. "Make sure you lock up if you're the last ones out."

"We won't be." Eliza answered. "I just need to use some cold cream on my face and then I'll be good to go."

"Alright, now." Fern said while she shut the door. When she was finally gone and the coast was clear, Bessie let out all her feelings.

"I hate that bitch!" Bessie shouted, which was met with Eliza's laughter.

"Lower your voice, she might hear." Eliza said in a soft voice, trying to hide her giggles.

"I hate that bitch, I don't care!"