Rated NC17 for violence.
I do not own any of the celebrities mentioned in this fic or the girls who responded to my cast call. I do own the writing though please don't steal.

Major Cast

Mickey Elijah Wood
Carl Turner Orlando Bloom

Arijane (the singer) Mena
Jasmine (The innocent girl) Jazz
Zella Doucet (The bitch/singer) Amber
Ellamae Sullivan (The wannabe Starlet) Blondie
Andrea Coppola (Mickey's wife) WhiteAndie
Louise Ann Walker (the dancer/singer) lovingtheblueeyedangel
Raine Coleman (The piano player) Raine
Mischa Fox (the dancer) *bunny*
Velma Jones (the diva/ex pwerformer) Airefeaiel



..:Mickey Blue Eyes:..



PROLOGUE

Case number #23784529. Chicago.


Carl Turner smoked the last of his cigar as he waited outside his office, the rain soaking his jacket and fogging up his black rimmed glasses. Blurring his vision and causing him to rub at them furiously with his handkerchief.

He looked down the street, watching children playing jump rope and splashing in the puddles, their mothers holding black umbrellas, their hair in tight buns or in delicate waves. The husbands, dissolved in a cloud of smoke, discussing current affairs and exchanging juice for their sweethearts.

“Carl,” a voice called out to him, the hint of a Southern accent pushed back by years of studying in England. Carl turned around slowly, his hand on the edge of his glasses, squinting through them to try and make out the figure in the fog.

The owner of the voice looked him over and laughed. “You’re still as blind as a bat,” he said, his blue eyes shining, a smile playing on his lips. His hands were covered in leather gloves and they were deep within his pockets.

Carl grinned, recognizing his voice after a moment. “Mickey,” he said smiling, removing his glasses to wipe them on the edge of his jacket. His brown eyes studied Mickey. “It’s been a while,” he added softly in his heavy American accent.

Mickey nodded, fiddling with the chain of his pocket watch. His cerulean eyes darted to the building they were standing in front of and he chuckled softly.
“Brings back a lot of memories doesn’t it,” he said, with his usual grin.

Carl laughed at the memory. “Oh yeah, it does,” he said smiling.

Squeeeeeeee!! She's posted. Squeeeeeeee!!!

Three emotions are currently surging through my body.

Emotion #1: Sheer joy. I am so glad that you finally posted this story. I have been impatiently patiently waiting for this puppy.

Emotion #2: Pure wonder. Wonder at how you can be such a fantastic writer. Man, your words seem to flow so effortlessly. I love the mood you are able to create in so little words. And your descriptions. *shakes head* Don't even get me started on that. Amazing.

and lastly...
Emotion #3: Sadness. Sadness at how short that update was. Twas brilliant but so short and now I am sitting here yearning for more.

So..you see this little pirate here.. :pirate: He is my friend. Don't make me wait to long...or else I may have to send my friend here your way to do a little convincing. If you know what I mean. *insert evil laugh*

:lol:

Ohhh! For the millionth time, at least, I must compliment your descriptions. They can immediately pull a reader in and make them feel as though they are actually there. It is such a good quality to have as an author, and it is what makes me enjoy your fics so much! I am so excited about reading this one. I know it shall be just as marvelous as all the rest.

Plus, thanks for making me the bitchy singer! It was so what I wanted! :hug: And, I shall be waiting for more!

i believe i am intriuged. -_-
& f.y.i your banner is fucken rad.
-cleo

Oohh! This is great Patty Cake! I really can't wait to read more, I love your description of everyone and everything!

And me? The innocent girl?? Yess that's the reputation we like to keep precioussss.

:love:

I'm Mickey's wife! I knew that one day I'd be able to say that!

You posted ! Great start! Please keep going! I'm waiting!

Andie

Wow!!! I'm so glad that you all like the beginning! I know I'm a butt for making it so short but that's what prologue's are right? The thing that draws you in so that you want to read more *chuckles*

I'm just finishing up the chappie, I'll have it up soon *hugs* Luv ya all sooooo much!!!

Chapter 1

A fierce pounding on the door woke him up. The stench of coffee and a stale cigar hung about the air of the office, the sun, blocked behind faded curtains, dust settling around the young man, sultry eyes beckoning, screaming with sleep deprivation. Running a hand through dark curly hair, he checked his pocket watch and tried to place the silhouette that loomed over his door that he could see through the opaque glass. Cracked gold lettering spelt out his name in italics; nothing pretty to look at but as powerful as neon lights, exposing him, showing the world what a great performer he was. What a great detective.

The pounding grew louder as he frowned, squinting at the door, then grabbing his glasses and fixing the sleeves of his shirt.
“Keep ya pants on!” he cried, his voice sounding as though it had just lost a game of tug of war with a bubble. Coughing, raising the same hand to cover his mouth, he motioned for the door, grabbing the handle and turning it slowly.

"Carl!" cigarette smoke filled his nostrils as he squinted again, heels grinding against his office floor, the clapping of the tap shoes echoing in his brain, again and again, reminding him of years ago.

"Hey Daisy," he replied, fixing his shirt and shutting the door behind the visitor, walking to his desk and sitting down slowly, pulling out a flask and taking a quick sip. "I'm sorry did you want some?" he asked with a quizzical eyebrow raised.

A shake of the head. No.

"Suit yourself," he said, shrugging, drinking more, stinging his tongue and burning his throat.

"I came at a bad time?"

Hands reached over flipping through newspaper cuttings and tracing a mangifying glass, dark eyes spotting a pipe, fingers fumbling for it. His hand clapped over hers suddenly.
"Don't touch that," he warned, his voice low, intimidation resounding and she took her hand back instantly.

"Sheriff said you might have the killer soon," she said. A fur wrap hugging her shoulders, long ropes of black pearls adorning her slender neck and exposed collarbone. Now soul owner of Club Onyx Andrea Coppola tossed back her dark hair, watching the young detective.

He frowned looking up at her, a hand resting on the table in front of him. "You came all this way to see me because of something the sheriff said?" he asked. "You still believe that guy?" he added. Confused..utterly confused.

"Well...yes...shouldn't I?"

(A/N: I realise it's very short, but as is the point for this chapter as you will see as the story progresses. :))

Oooooo!! I didn't know you posted!! :)
But I'm so glad you did of course :P
I loved the prologue and the first chapter :)
Orlando's character sounds interesting -_-
I'm definitely hooked!!

Very interesting, my dear! So, we have a killer on the loose. Must say I love the atmosphere you're creating here. The Club Onyx sounds like an interesting place! More when you can!

:cry: I'm sorry I didn't post earlier! I just didn't know you posted it up! I wish people could just tell me they posted up fanfics with me in em so I coudlread em! [sighs]

anywho great start girl! I like the prolog and the 1st chapter! keep going -Raine

Darn you and your mystery and intrigue! Gah! You throw bits and pieces of info out there, just enough to hook us, but not enough to satisfy our curiosity. Clever, very clever. :yes:

Hm....a killer. Now this is a bit of interesting info.

Okay, enough with the leading us on...give us some substance here girlie...otherwise I will go insane.

By the way, that is my neurotic way of saying, "you are doing a kick arse job, I love this story".
:lol:

gah! Newbie alert! Hello!!! I just found you story...since you are already in mine... :yes: lol. I love this idea, even though I don't really know what the full idea is becuz you only have a few little bits and pieces...i like it so far! I can't wait to read more! ~Alli~

:cry: more?

Ah thankyou my beautiful angels!!

Sorry you've had to wait so long for more of it. I've been having a hard time with half yearly exams, they should be over in about two weeks so I guarantee chappies will come quicker then. :)

Now...the new chapter, hope you like. *hugs*

Chapter 2

Smoke billowed through the dressing room of the oriental diva as she paced, old parchment in her hands, music notes haphazardly written in black ink. The mass of sleek, dark hair that she was envied for swayed softly to and fro as she waved the aged paper to dry. Fidgeting with the expensive cigar wedged between her full lips, she sat down in front of her mirror, replaying previous thoughts in her head.

A man with a powdered face, a stagehand, popped his head through the dressing room door. Bubbling with energy and choking on the repulsive smelling smoke, his grey eyes threatened to water.

“Ms um…Raine, you’re wanted in a second,” he spoke with a heavy southern drawl. Odd for someone raised in Atlanta.

She blew out a ring of smoke, almond shaped chocolate eyes, studying him, making the messenger uncomfortable.

“Yeah? Alright be there in a second then,” Her voice soft, accent thick like velvet. He nodded, continuing down the hall, hitting his clothes a little to rid them of the foul aroma.

Securing a blue garter on her slim thigh, she walked towards her dresser, picking up the strongest perfume she owned and spraying it over herself. The two differing smells combining creating a blend of wild flower and tobacco.

Head held high, posture secure and confident, her dress trailing behind her apathetically, tanned hands on slim hips as they swayed from side to side, entrancing the young stage hands, her presence intoxicating. Gracefully, every step with its own attitude she descended the six wooden stairs, eyeing them for a moment. Cracked and chipped, cigarette burns, those stairs had a story of their own. A smile curled on her lips, the disappeared after a moment. The heart of the black Onyx.

One last call.

“Ms Coleman!!!”

“Hang on to your garters boys, I’m here,” she said with that thick accent, grinning at them from behind rose painted lips, settling herself at the black grand, her fingers poised, taking out the faded parchment.

“Anytime you're ready,” his voice low and monotonous as it drones out from that fat mouth of his.

She begins. Fingers pacing up and down the keys, slow at first then faster and complicated as the dancers on stage strain to keep up, perspiring quickly, bumping into each other at the key change.

The other diva, experienced, standing on the side of the stage, a calf arched, foot pointed, typecast, a dancer, hand clutching onto one of the curtain strings, with delicately painted nails. Painted like fire. Red, crimson red. Matching her blushing lips, contrasted against her raven like hair.

She watched, amused.

Catching sight of the dancer, Raine looked up, grinning, remebering that look, mischeif. She scouted the stage, watching the dancers seriously, continuing with the song. Stopping abruptly when one of the younger dances collided with one of the more experienced, collapsing on the floor.

“I can’t do this!” Zella cried, irate, throwing back her mass of dark hair and feather boa. The blonde next to her looked up timidly from her place on the floor, holding her throbbing ankle. Uttering a soft apology as the diva rushed off to her dressing room, without a backward glance.

Sighing echoed from the fat mouth. Shoving papers into a worn briefcase, he stood his aide at his side. Turning back to the stage.

“We’ll try again tomorrow,” he breathed heavily, fixing his jacket, heading towards the Chicago rain, hat covering graying hair.

The dancer clapped, laughing, walking towards the black grand as the others on stage helped the youngest up and to her dressing room, disappearing into their own afterward.

“Never lost you’re touch,” the dancer said, lifting herself onto the grand in one swift motion, almost acrobatic. Lying on her back comfortably, a leg bent, watching the oriental look up at her from the keys.

“How could I? Why would I risk disappointing you?” she asked, a smile on her lips, crossing her long legs, playing absentmindedly. Slow and somber. The dancer humming along, swinging her other leg a little.

“We were big…” she replied nostalgically. “Do you remember?”

“I could never forget Vel,” Raine replied, just as wistful. “Black Onyx in its days of glory,”

Velma grinned. Reached for a cigarette.

“Summer of ’22, roaring ‘22,”

A laugh was shared between the two famed performers. A time they could and would never forget. The summer of ’22.

I need to see Chicago!!!! haha

I loved it! You described the dancing so well! The flow of every description was beautiful!

And you said it sucked! My ass it did!

I can't wait for more!

Yay!! New chapter!!
I loved it!! I loved the descriptions!!
I'm really looking forward to the next chappies :)

:eek: OOOOOOOOooooooooooooo I'm a dancer! ;-) sexy... Love the chapter post more soon please!

-Raine

I'll make you watch it! I'll come over to your place and make you watch Chicago I give you permission to smack me out if I start singing too lol.

You're an angel bella. *hugs*


Thanks *bunny*!!! *hugs* I'm glad you liked it hun ^_^


awwww *hugs Raine* You're the piano player sweetie :)


:heartbeat: Pat

We'll make a day of it! lol I'll supply popcorn!

:huh: post more?

Brilliant.

No other words would be able to describe your writing.

Man, I would die to be able to write descriptions like you do.

I love it.

Bravo!

eep! I'm sorry I am so late in replying! Finals and real life drama distracted me. :cry: But, I'm back, and still eternally in awe of your killer descriptions and the way you paint a scene so clearly for your readers.

Feather boa, indeed! hahahaaha! I love it!

I can't believe i haven't posted for this chapter yet!!

It's fantastic Patty Cake, The whole painted lips, and blushing cheeks descriptions are fantastic. The chapter made me intrigued and anxious to see what the summer of 22' was all about :P

Please post again soon, Sweetpea.

xxxxxxx

This baby is coming back. December 4th.

:heartbeat: Pat

And, I say, heck yesssssssssssssssssssss! :laugh:

Yessssssssssssssssssssssssss!

*pumps fist into the air manically*

Best new ever!

Heeeeeeere's Johnny! eheheh. I hope you guys all like this, and I'm so so very sorry it took so long for me to get it back up. Thank Chicago for this chapter lol!

*****

Chapter 3
The summer of 1922

A colloquial mask painted on her face, a rhapsody of her favoured cosmetics. A safety blanket for the diva. Heightened confidence for performing came with this security. Arijane played with her long crimson locks, parting them slowly with a delicate comb.

His cerulean orbs burned into her skin. He was the only one who had seen her without the mask. Who had truly seen her then, and had loved her. A passionate night, exchanging vows of love, of frantic tumbles, cuddled in, his reprieve.

“Baby, you’re going to be a star,” Breathless whispers, false promises. She didn’t care. She grappled for his ripped flesh, giving him herself. She had loved no other.

“I’m already a star,” she purred back, voice barely audible, as she stroked his cheek, their harmony of heartbeats thumping through each other. His hand took her thigh, eyes widening in admiration at the flask of whisky tied to her garter. The elicit pauses, the consumption of the spirit, made them erotic. A shy goodbye was ominous the next morning.

“Too bad he loves all of us,” The southern accent was strong, despite her futile attempt to hide it, with the false European brogue. The nostalgia faded as shaking hands were steadied, rouge was applied to her cheeks.

Arijane swooped her mass of hair into an appropriate bun. The sequined sleeves of her nightgown sparkling with her reflection in the cold mirror, tango partners, allegro rubato.

Louise Ann folded her arms in her lap, plum lips parting for a moment. “Too bad, he’s married,” Her foot was on the doorstop.

A delicate eyebrow was raised, quizzical, belonging to the soprano, a small gasp escaping her lips from the false fright she received. “You startled me,”

Miss Mayfair was a good liar. She gave Louise benefit of the doubt. Had she been sneaking up on her? Was she intelligent enough for that? Slinking across the dressing room corridor like a rat.

“We’re on in seven; Jack has his knickers in a knot,” She laughed softly, white, superfluous teeth on display. Head titled back, with poise, humour. Then she was gone, purple costume a flurry out the door. Her train tipped over the picture by the door, shattered glass a melancholy reminder of its cost.

Arijane cringed, rushing to the frame, careful with the pieces. Mickey’s bright eyes stared back at her.

“He's a good-looking bastard,”

********

The chocolate eyes scanned the room; she had been discovered first, offered a measly wage every month, if he could afford it, for her cabaret. Sometimes a little more, but she wasn’t paid for that. She wasn’t an unfortunate. She was a performer, a diva, a lady of the stage.

She would never admit it - the proud air about her curtained her secrets, her feather boa, was added protection - but those were the good days. Barely scraping through with the rent, her feline companions eating the green.

Zella’s long fingers came to rest on the cigarette she puffed on, her other hand lazily tracing patterns on her thigh, she knew this was a way to get what she wanted. Just enough to make them swoon. She was fire. All of the originals knew how to get their way. It was etiquette for them now. She fingered the material over her girdle, delicious, eyes fixed on an unsuspecting youth; her hand caressed the soft flesh of her collarbone. The brandy glass fell from his clammy fingertips. Oh, she was good.

Velma walked the floor, the surreptitious bottle of booze at her thigh, secured by her garter. The ebony skirt hid her thighs, poised; added height of dancing shoes making her appear that more voluptuous.

“She’s gonna shimmy till her garters break,”

Velma smiled slyly, the chorusing dancers on stage; a masquerade of sensuous sinners. Their melody flouncing over the tantalizing men that occupied the audience. She winked at Raine, the sun-kissed beauty who played the jazz number skillfully on the grand.

Velma spotted her quarry, slinking in the shadows. Mickey’s predictable cigar smoke enveloped him. His cigar was cradled between beige lips. Untidy, overzealous curls contained; slicked back to be more appealing.

“Mr. Turner,” her voice was cinnamon sweet, her dancer’s physique crossing the floor. Eyes belonging to bodies raging with testosterone watched her slide past. Envious of the man who puffed slowly, legs apart. A muskiness of some unknown scent trailed after her. She held the room in the palm of her hand.

Zella smirked, uncrossing and recrossing her lithe legs as she reclined on a sofa covered in crushed velvet. She watched the power of Velma radiate from her, the youths transfixed.

“You minx,” she whispered to no one in particular, arching her neck, the boy who now fumbled over his broken glass, watched her in desire, and intimidation. A red flush took his cheeks as she noticed his excitement.

Velma’s hand fell to her hip, elbow out. Her lips sat in a seductive pout, her short hair framing her pallid face. Her eyebrows furrowed. Oh god, not Ellamae. Don’t ruin this for me.

The bumbling form of the blonde starlet came to her side. She whispered in her ear. She yearned for approval. She desperately hoped for his approval.

“Mickey wants to speak with you,” Ella’s eyes grew wide with urgency.
“Mickey can wait,” The confident air of Velma washed over Ella suddenly. Intimidation seeping in. Zella rose straighter on the couch, frowning softly, curious at why Velma had stopped. She noticed the slip of Raine too, only a musically trained ear could.

“Um…Well, he’s in the cloak room,” The cerulean eyes of the blonde were like those of a baby faun’s, and she shuffled away, embarrassed.

Poor girl. Velma mulled, again fixing her eyes on her target. His cigar was finished now, and he rose an eyebrow softly, indicating his want for Velma to walk over. She stopped inches from him. A match at the ready. This time he took a cigarette into his mouth. Not intending to smoke it.

“Looks like you need a light,” her eyes sparkled with the liquor. She held her liquor well. A small smile took his lips, his own chocolate orbs sparkling back. Translucent fantasies swapped between them.

“Didn’t see you onstage tonight,” He was testing her. He knew how she loved the spotlight.
“I’m not working tonight,” she smiled, stepping closer, sitting on his knee, wrapping an arm around his neck.

“This isn’t working?” He played hard, this one. An excellent judge of character, as it came with the job description. He had dealt with everything, corruption, scandal. But she was a mystery, even to him. So tempting. Out of reach.

“Oh, come on sugar,” she purred, hand in his chocolate hair, sliding over his lap, smiling slyly, feeling his anticipation rise. She knew how to toy with them.

“Working tomorrow,” He replied, with a coy shrug of the shoulders, running a finger along her jaw. She watched him, eyes recumbent, seductive.

“You’re always working,” There was that air again, the mystery. The frivolity.

“It pays the bills,” He wouldn’t give up now.

“Mmmm, that’s a lie,” She watched him now with amusement. The lengths men went to deny their emotions, deny themselves.

“I’m not your type anyway,” For a moment, she thought his look turned to seriousness, but the smirk was visible, in the minute curve of his lip.

“But I’m yours aren’t I?” She stroked his thigh gently as his breath caught in his throat. Femme Fatale.

“Yes,”

“Here’s a secret,” Velma leaned over him, securing herself higher onto his lap, lips inches from his ear. “…you are my type,” she licked her full lips, then kissed his cheek gently. It was an invitation, he knew it. His lust would be fulfilled, finally. The crimson mark on his cheek was proof.

Carl left his seat, bidding her a false farewell. She waited, five minutes, fifteen. The sly smile returned to her lips as she winked to her pianist friend. With an air of desire and confidence she strolled out the door, spotting the detective, smoking by the corner.

“Hello again, Carl,”

*****

Young Jasmine Elphinstone crossed the bar, frowning at the stench of sin. She pursed her lips at the smell of the liquor. Her turquoise eyes surveyed the club. Ghetto starlets, everyone in here. Man and Woman. Jasmine was nonchalant when she caught Ella’s urgent stare. Cloakroom now!

A curious frown took her face and she nodded, sliding her way through the audience, transfixed by Arijane strutting on stage with her false Italian presence. The Venus de Milo.

Her hand was on the handle when the shadow loomed over her, then everything went dark.


**********

:heartbeat: Pat

*squeeeee* It's back!!! I heart the Chicago vibe so very much!

And, Mickey...what a dead sexy naughty thing! ;-)

*bounces*
It's baaack!!

And, since I'm vain, must say i LOVED the way you desribed... well, me. :P

So hot!!

Yay!! It's back... with a great chapter :)
Great descriptions... I really like the characters!!
More soon?

Sorry it took me so long to reply!

Oh my gosh, talk about an update!

Mickey, he is such a player!

All of the ladies are beautifully described, all very sexay! Well, except for the dear sweet bumbling Ellamae! *snort*

Ooooh...Velma and Carl sitting in a tree!

Oh noes! What happened to Jazz? :eek:

Chapter in the works. Peace.

:heartbeat: Pat