Swan Song Read Online Free

dangerous spot to be, it’s back at the club with Tommy.
    Near Drew.
    This is why I need air. Why I need a breather from that joint. From all the men and their guns and their egos. Luckily I live with three other girls. Two from the club who waitress and work in the chorus and another who works in a department store in downtown Chicago. Aside from us, she has no connections to the mafia. Some days I envy her.
    When I unlock the door to our tiny apartment she’s there sleeping on the stiff couch. It’s one in the morning and she has to be at the store early so I try to come in quietly, cursing the creaking door as it closes.
    “Hey, Adrian,” Lucy mumbles sleepily, her eyes still closed. Her blond curls are a crazy matted mess around her head.
    “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
    “It’s okay. How was your night?”
    I silently slide my heels off, parking them by the door. “It was good.”
    “Anything exciting happen?”
    “Ralph and Al were there. I didn’t see them but Tommy was completely goofy over it.”
    Lucy yawns. “Tommy is always goofy.”
    “Yeah.”
    “Alice and Josephine are still working?”
    “Probably late, yeah. I’ll try to keep them quiet when they come in.”
    “Thanks,” she mutters, already rolling over to go back to sleep. “I made muffins. They’re on the table.”
    I can smell them. Pumpkin, spice, and everything nice.
    “Thanks, Luce. You’re the bee’s.”
    “I know.”
    I head into our tiny kitchen where I find a China plate sitting in the center of our dull, beaten dining table. Piled high on top of the plate’s chipped alabaster surface is a glorious mound of muffins that make my mouth water and my stomach ache. After I silently devour two, I move to the bedroom I share with the other two girls. I strip down to nothing and throw on a man’s nightshirt that’s loose, comfortable, and the opposite of everything I wear at the club. I spend a good ten minutes pulling out hairpins to let my long, thick tresses fall heavy and loose.
    It feels divine.
    This is my favorite part of my night, the part when the club comes off and all that’s left is me. I love being on stage. I love singing in front of a crowd. I love playing the part in front of all of those people. I even love my song and dance with Tommy, no matter how confusing or irritating it can get. But every now and then it feels good to just be me for a minute. To be the girl with no makeup stealing a third muffin in her bare feet in a dark kitchen. It’s moments like these when I feel almost sixteen again. Almost like the kid with simple cotton dresses and ribbons in her hair. As much I hated her, there are days when I almost miss her.
    Almost.

 
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
     
     
    “Play that one again, will you, Eddie?” Rosaline asks, taking a sip of her soup. “I love that one.”
    Eddie, the bassist in the house orchestra, nods before kicking off into the song again. I don’t know the name of it. It probably doesn’t have one. It’s most likely something he’s created on the fly because he’s that sort of talented. His song resonates cleanly through the quiet, closed club as we all sit around eating our dinner of soup and sandwiches, listening intently. We’ll have to start warming up soon to get ready for the club to open, but for now I’m loving this. Laughing, chatting, and relaxing with the only family I have left. The only one that matters anymore.
    The club looks different in the daylight. It’s more damaged. The bar has less luster, the floors are scuffed, the tables are all missing their linen dressings leaving the entire room feeling darker. Heavier. There are no jewels here in the daylight. No diamonds or emeralds. There’s just us – the entertainers who can’t afford a drink when we’re open. The gangsters who don’t bother with jackets to conceal the shiny revolvers strapped to their sides.
    “So,” Rosaline says slyly, leaning in close, “who was