Just off of New York City was the famous night club 'The Copacabana'. Flashing multi-colored lights escaped the windows, synced with the pounding music that was barley muffled through the doors best effort to block out some of the noise. The people chattered trivial things as they drank their intoxication giving beverages, only a small few not paying attention to the hilarious comedic entertainment up on lit up stage.
However, as the lights dimmed when the most recent act left, the chattering died a bit, morphing into murmurs of curiosity. It suddenly turned to an uproar of applause as three new curvy female showgirls swept onto the stage and into the spotlight, adorned with beautiful and large multi-colored feathers on their heads and short grass skirts and red tops that covered only their chests. These showgirls: Marlene, Stacy, and Becky from Central Park, began their tempting dancing as a handsome tall man came onto the stage, wearing a black tux, coal black dress shoes, and a red bowtie. A few girls swooned over the newcomer; even if it was evident he was in his forties he looked in his prime. Kowalski was his name. He adjusted the microphone on its stand and the stoic expression he held lapsed as he opened his mouth, speaking smoothly, "And now, for your entertainment, a little story to be told...in song."
A very familiar soundtrack resonated from the speakers and dim lights came down upon the stage, setting a more somber mood then what the crowd was used to from past others singing the same song. All came to a low whisper as Kowalski cleared his throat, adjusting his red bowtie. However, the mood was instantaneously changed as soon as he started to sing.
"Her name was Lola, she was a showgirl," he started crooning with a voice that made a few drunken girls faint. "With yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there." Kowalski pointed to his hips in indication and winked at the growing ecstatic audience. "She would meringue, and do the cha-cha! And while she tried to be a star, Skipper always tended the bar!" A few people moved with soundtrack, naïve to the story he was trying to tell. "Across a crowded floor, they worked from eight till four. They were young and they had each other!"
"Who could ask for more?" Kowalski questioned rhetorically to the audience. "At the Copa!"
"Copa!" the girls chanted, dancing harmoniously with the rhythm. "Copacabana!" Kowalski took the mike off its stand and flashed a charming smile to the audience. "Copacabana!" the girls echoed the handsome singer, who was beaming with confidence from his positive responding crowd.
"The hottest spot north of Havana!"
"Here!" the three females threw their arms up, hips swishing the grass skirts in rhythmic movements that synced to the music and each other. "At the Copa," Kowalski continued with the females joining him in a rather harmonious display of musical talent. "Copacabana!" they harmonized. "Music and passion were always the fashion!"
Kowalski sang solo again as the girls continued to dance, occasionally chiming in a word or two. "At the Copa...they fell in love..." His voice was filled with sudden regret, sadness now in his eyes. The crowd had a shift as they were taken back to a time where a few older few recognized this singer, Kowalski, to be one of the unfortunate bystanders of a decade old scene. Not only that, but a friend of the victim. "Copa, Copacabana..." the three sang lowly, colors blurring together as a sudden curve happened to the music and performers.
Two doors swung open by a mighty force. An attractive young man with a spiky black Mohawk came into the bar wearing a trench coat, a tan colored fedora, and an expensive diamond necklace around his neck to show off his power and wealth. He resembled one of the most notorious mafia bosses New York had ever seen, but few were swayed by his entrance as they were too drunk from their alcohol to care.
From the stage, seemingly brand new, was a young doll face of a performer, Lola, dancing to the very song that the younger Kowalski sang. His tux looked just as new, with no blood stains, and his backup dancers seemed to have had the same change with their outfits. He parted his lips to continue the song, sounding much to light for such a foreboding mood.
"His name was Rico, he wore a diamond." Kowalski's voice came from the stage but he, Marlene, Stacy and Becky had been pushed aside for the entertainer and her other showgirls to dance. She was the star of the show and, evidently, caught all of the men's attention as they whistled, shouted, and pounded on their tables for more.
Rico, the dangerous man, was taken to his chair by a squeamish young teen, Private, and ordered a drink when he caught his eyes on Lola. Those blue orbs then burned with lust and desire, a more animalistic quality then what every other man in that building had.
"He was escorted to his chair, he saw Lola dancin' there."
His eyes remained fixated on Lola till she was done and got off stage for her break. Rico whistled for her attention and she came over despite the unnerving look Rico gave her. Not anything ugly but a certain sense of possession that no woman wished to see.
"And when she finished, he called her over." Kowalski gestured to the two as he and the three showgirls took center stage once more.
Skipper fumed from the bar stand as he watched Lola giggle over whatever Rico was saying. That was his girl, not Rico's. Something in him snapped when the mafia boss kissed her cheek, stunning the beautiful woman. Skipper stomped on over and shoved Rico right out of his seat. Lola gasped and hung back in the shadows. Rico got up and snarled vehemently at Skipper. The hefty man took him by the neck and seams of his pants and tossed Skipper across the table, crashing into bottles of wine and splintered wood.
"But Rico went a bit too far, Skipper sailed across the bar."
Skipper shakily got up and brushed off the shards of glass that had cut him, promising scars. He whirled towards Rico's direction and they both charged, landing harsh punches on each other. They used any object they could get their hands on to hit one another. A shard of glass sliced at the mafia boss's face, leaving a long scar crossing over his now bloody lips. That crossed the line. Rico reached inside his trench coat and felt a cool metal.
"And then the punches flew, and chairs were smashed in two!"
A loud gunshot rang out in the bar, making everything silent except for the music and singing. "There was blood and a single gunshot! But just WHO shot WHO?" Kowalski asked the shocked audience, stunned beyond belief. "At the Copa."
"Copa!" Feet were kicked in the air, letting the girls grass skirts move freely in the air, but no one was paying attention to enjoy this display. "Copacabana," Kowalski sung but swallowed thickly at the memory, subconsciously touching his tux where a new blood stain would remain, though the red substance was not his. "Copacabana! The hottest spot north of Havana." The girls chanted, "Here!"
Kowalski looked sadly at the source of everyone's attention, the dead body in the middle of the bar already starting to smell of death and decay. "At the Copa, Copacabana! Music and passion were always the fashion!" the four sang loudly, echoing in the deathly silence of the music's story. "At the Copa..." the tall man drawled out and watched as Lola screamed for the death of her lover. "She lost her love..." Kowalski mourned quietly at Skipper's dead body, bloody in the chest where he had been shot so long ago.
"Copa Copacabana...Copa Copacabana!" The female performers gracefully moved from foot to foot, singing in sync with each other and to the beat of the soundtrack. They began to glide their feet across the stage floor, brushing light dust onto their feet. "Copacabana, ahh ahh ahh ahh ahh ahh ahh ahh!" Their voices rose up higher and higher, arms slowly being raised up as they went. "Copa Copacabana! Talking Havana... have a banana..." Their singing got slower as the music slowed, swaying the grass skirts as the people were taken out of their daze and back to the present. "Music and passion...always the fash-shun..."
"Her name is Lola, she was a showgirl," Kowalski started up again with the old scene gone and now back to its original time where he was in his forties, though he hardly seemed to have aged since the day Skipper had been shot. The audience blinked, silenced, as they were memorized by his hypnotic blue eyes. "But that was thirty years ago, when they used to have a show. Now it's a disco, but not for Lola. Still in the dress she used to wear, faded feathers in her hair." Kowalski pointed to an old barely animated lady, who matched Lola's description perfectly. She hadn't changed her dress since the day of the death of her lover. "She sits there so refined, and drinks herself half-blind!"
The old performer in the corner fell over from the drinks she had consumed and passed out on the floor.
"She lost her youth and she lost her Skipper! Now she's lost her mind!" Kowalski gestured to his head, rolling his eyes in their sockets. It might've been amusing if the audience wasn't so somber and mournful of the story. "At the Copa."
"Copa!" Marlene, Stacy and Becky chanted harmoniously.
"Copacabana." The striking singer put the microphone back on its stand, and he loosened and adjusted his red bowtie. "Copacabana," the three echoed him once again. "The hottest spot north of Havana."
"Here!" the girls let the grass skirts match their hip movements, and they went on their heels as they did a slow circle, sashaying to the beat of the drums. "At the Copa, Copacabana!" the four singers sung with unbelievable gusto to the audience, sucking them into the story of their song. "Music and passion were always the fashion!"
"At the Copa! Don't fall in love..." Kowalski sang, suddenly alone and quiet in stature. "Copa..." Marlene, Stacy and Becky swayed slowly to the music with the ends of their grass skirts brushing their thighs. "Don't fall in love..." he murmured.
"Copacabana, Copacabana..." the female dancers echoed till the music came to a slow end.
The lights dimmed till all was black, the fading echo of Lola's screams resonating from the famous nightclub. In the dark corner, Rico smirked and watched the new star, Marlene, leave the stage, arm and arm with the singer Kowalski. He put his hands in the pockets of his worn trench coat and the light reflection of a gun glinted.