Disclaimer: It's pretty obvious who belongs to me and who doesn't.
Thank you to my reviewers, please, if you're reading this and not reviewing, mend your ways!
In the last chapter, nothing really exciting happened- this will change NOW!
After she had finished her morning coffee, Roxie purchased a newspaper. There were always auditions listed in there, sometimes for fairly big clubs, like the Onyx! Roxie thought back to that night when Fred had taken her to the Onyx, and Velma Kelly had been arrested for killing her husband and sister. She also thought back to her conversation with Fred last night. She had told him that if she caught Amos having an affair, she would throw him a 'great big going away party'. Roxie smiled wryly. Wasn't that what Amos had done for her? She supposed he'd want to come crawling back to her soon- but that wasn't what she wanted. No, she didn't want anything to do with him now. She had a new name, and soon she would have a new job and address.
Roxie looked back at the paper. She turned to page eighteen, where she'd seen jobs listed before her marriage, when she was a chorus girl. Not surprisingly, they had moved from there, and she had to flip through the whole thing to find them. At last, she saw the welcome headlines, and sat back to compare the different jobs available.
She didn't want to go back to being a chorus girl- low pay, being treated like dirt, and absolutely no celebrity went with the job.
So, a headliner. But where to start? Should she apply for every audition going, or start at the bottom and wait for the talent scouts to find her? No, that wasn't like Roxie. She would turn up at every audition with a knock-out number, then take the best offer she could.
Roxie rehearsed wildly in her room for three days, hardly coming out at all. Not until she had this move perfect, and that chord just right did she go for her first audition, at one of the best clubs in Chicago. And what an audition it was...
A small, dingy room containing a piano and a couple of chairs. In the chairs sat the owners of the club, at the piano a black jazz player. She nervously said hello to them, and handed her crumpled sheet music to the pianist. He looked through it, tried out a few chords and said, "This is good!" in tones of some surprise. Roxie's confidence bounced back. She would show them.
"Name?" said one of the managers, stumping out his cigarette on the arm of the chair.
"Roxie Bell," she replied, holding her head up proudly.
"Age?"
Roxie had to think about that. Too old, and she wouldn't be accepted, not for a newcomer. Of course, if you had started young, you could carry on in vaudeville for ever, if the critics didn't get bored with you. Too young, however, and you would be told to come back in a couple of years.
"Twentyfour," she said at last. The pianist raised his eyebrows slightly, but made no comment.
"And address?"
"I'm living in a hotel at the moment- but when I get some work, I'll get myself a brand new apartment."
Her questioner nodded. "What's the name of the hotel?" he queried.
"The Hotel Resplendent."
He nodded again. "I know it. Now, what are you going to sing?"
"Um, well, I wrote it myself, it's called 'Nowadays'."
"Go ahead," the other man smiled.
With butterflies suddenly pounding in her stomach, Roxie stepped up next to the piano.
"Five, six, seven, eight," the pianist muttered to himself. And he began. Listening for her cue, Roxie slid effortlessly into the splits.
"You can like the life you're living..." she started.
Hee hee! What will happen next? I'll continue...if you review.