13 Murders

The Seductress of Saxophone

Twelve

The Seductress of Saxophone

The bar is in the centre of town, and the big sign on the top of the double-story building illuminates the whole street. Jason had parked a few blocks over, he said he likes the walk. I can see why, the streets of Chicago are beautiful. Completely different to the dark, looming shadows of nighttime Baltimore. I feel a sudden pang of longing for home, cut disappears as we reach the entrance of the bar. The sign above reads ‘Jazz Hands Bar and Lounge’. Jason leads us inside.

I am gobsmacked by the interior of the place, it’s like stepping into a Hollywood-glamour concert hall, with red velvet draped ceilings and matching walls and carpets. A chandelier hangs above the dark mahogany bar at the back of the room, and tables are set throughout the theater-like bar, with red velvet seat covers on the chairs and minimalist table decorations. The place is almost full. We walk over to the bar, Jason glancing back at me and smiling at my intrigued expression. The barman is dress in a black shirt and waistcoat and looks very smart.

“What can I get ya?” He asks in a heavy Boston accent. Jason orders a beer for himself and a fancy-looking cocktail for me. I’m surprised he doesn’t ask me what I actually want, but my confusion is hindered when he turns and hands it to me.

“My sister always get’s that, she says that she hasn’t met a woman that doesn’t like it.” For my own sake I hope he’s right, so I take the drink and smile appreciatively. We take a seat at a table on the second row from the front. I take sips from my drink as we chat about boring things like the weather until he begins to ask questions.

“So where did you grow up?” He asks. I freeze mid-sip. Do I lie? Truth won’t hurt here, would it?

“Baltimore, in forest park.” I say. He nods and sips on his beer intently.

“What about you?” I continue, trying to move on from me. The idea of mixing the real me and Elizabeth Falcon makes me feel dizzy. He shrugs and smiles.

“Here in Chicago, I’ve never really been out of Illinois” He replies. Before we have time to say anything more the lights dim and a man in a suit appears on the stage. It lights up and the man smiles at the audience. The people around us cheer. I clap along. The man brings a microphone to his lips and his other hand up into the air to gesture to the crowd.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to Jazz Hands, tonight I present to you the Queen of Jazz, the Seductress of Saxophone, the one and only, Roxanna Raven!” He announces and the room goes black. I can feel my heart racing, mainly because of the anticipation and because I can hear Jason move his chair a little more in my direction. I tell myself it’s probably for a better view, but I hope it’s not.

A single spot light focuses in the middle of the stage. A woman stands there now, with her back to us. I might’ve seen her before, somewhere, but I gather that I’ve seen her in the papers or magazines. She is tall, with tanned skin and brown hair, dead straight and glossy, cascading down her back. She’s wearing a bright red, silk dress that clings to her body tightly. Even from behind, she looks like someone that has just stepped out of Vogue.

The music starts and she begins to sing. It’s a music number from Chicago, ‘All that Jazz’. As the lyrics start she spins around.

My jaw hits the floor.

Electra.

“Come on babe why don’t we paint the town? And all that Jazz…” She sings it perfectly. I look over at Jason, who smiles brightly, enjoying the music. My eyes are going to pop out of my head. She shimmies and dances, men in tuxedos appear, they lift her, dancing around her, she drops up and down them, and my the bridge they rip her dress off, revealing a lingerie-like corset embedded with red sequins. Who knew someone could stay in a good shape throughout their five years in prison. In the last chorus of the song she sees me.

Her eyes barely flicker.

She smirks.

The same smirk from that first day at Everleigh.

She finishes the song off with a dramatic pose and the crowd goes wild. She smiles, taking it in all in. I have to get out of here, I can’t bare to look at her in case I break down. She is yet another reminder that I will never be free of what I’ve done, where I’ve been and what I am going to do. And yet I feel an overwhelming urge to speak with her, to grasp onto every connection I have with the real me, and the real people in my life. I want to speak to her as if Lizzie was speaking to Electra, not Elizabeth to Roxanna. I look over to Jason who is looking at me intently.

“Are you okay? You look a little bit pale.” He asks. I nod in reply. He looks pale to though, like he’s almost in shock. Maybe he didn’t think it was going to be so good.

God I wish that was my problem.

“Excuse, I’m just going to the ladies.” I lie. I’m going to look for a backstage entrance. I find it eventually, taking one last look back at Jason, who shuffles in his chair and gets up with his glass, obviously going for a refill.

Backstage is a mess of sparkly costumes, performers in lingerie and men in tuxedos. I look for a door with Electra’s name on it and knock on one with ‘Roxanne’ written on it. It’s a few long second before I hear footsteps.

“For god’s sake Jimmy I don’t want a drink I’ve already told you!” She yells as she opens the door. She sees me and her angry expression falls into a smirk. I’m beginning to think this is just how she smiles.

“Well look who it is, I thought I’d seen the last of you when we left that hellhole. Oh well, you know what they say, you can never really lose a cold.” She says and opens the door wider. I’m not sure whether she’s insulting me or inviting me in. I go in anyway. Inside it’s lit with dim lamps and filled with costumes and mirrors. She folds herself on a fur-covered ottoman and tugs on a silk robe with oriental dragons stitched on it. I stand in the middle of the room, arms by my side.

“Okay kid, what do you want? I ain’t never seen a look like that without wanting somethin’” She speaks in an umfamiliar accent, almost southern. I guess Roxanna Raven is from the South. I’m slightly shocked at how good her acting is, but the more I think about the first day at Everleigh Jail, the less surprised I feel. But despite the accent and the eccentrics, her eyes are serious.

“I just um wanted to day Hi-“

“Don’t tell me you came here, knocked on my door, disturbed my life and put both of our lives- and our freedom- in jeopardy just to say ‘Hi’?” She spits, getting up from the ottoman and stepping in my direction accusingly. Her hard, withering gaze does not deter from me, even when a man comes in talking at the speed of light.

“Nextnumberintenminutes Roxanna! Thatta Girl! Thatta Girl! Next number in ten minutes!” He shoots back out of the room as quickly as he came. Electra spins on the balls of her feet and moves to the mirror. She looks at me via the reflections and wipes her lips of the red lipstick, reapplying a dark pink.

“Look kid, I’m just trying to get by with my life, kay? Now why don’t you run along and play with your boytoy whilst I don’t waste my time and kill a bastard to earn my freedom. Besides, I’ve got a French accent to work on to get me out of this hellhole of a country.” She orders bluntly. I feel a surge of anger but obey. Electra is not someone I want to argue with. She is too good at deceiving people. I turn and walk out of the room, hoping I never have to feel this cut off again.

“Oh yeah and Liz, next time you want something, don’t ask me!”

 The door slams behind me.