Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
I scratch at the side of my head and glance back toward Alissa. “But you mentioned that there were a few other bits of the tune in the music box that were wonky. But they weren’t wrong notes.”
Alissa raises her eyebrows. “Right. I was so hyper focused on listening for the wrong notes, I forgot about the other elements.” She winds the teapot once more and listens through. “Okay, right. The first thing that’s off is the extra beat of nothing, even before the first wrong note is played. There’s an awkward one-beat pause that throws off the waltz rhythm.”
“And there was something else,” I say. “A note that was too long.”
“Right. A four-beat note in waltz time. Shouldn’t be possible. A whole note. And that occurs before the F.” She erases her notes and then writes everything down, including a few new symbols I recognize as the quarter rest and the whole note in music notation. “This… This might be something.”
“The…Zac of Hearts?” I wrinkle my nose.
“That can’t be it,” Alissa says. “The quarter rest looks more like a J than a Z to me.”
Bianca’s jaw drops. “The Jack of Hearts.”
11
BIANCA
Three bucks, two bags, one me.
The girl whose dreams were too big for her has landed back in Chicago. She took the job her big sister dangled under her nose right after she hit rock bottom in her attempt to climb to the top. A leading role in a Broadway show was in her grasp, and then she put her own body on the line to clinch the contract.
But it wasn’t enough.
So here I am, tail between my legs, officially giving up. Falling back on my family’s wealth and businesses in the Windy City.
It feels particularly windy today. There’s a bite in the air as chilly gusts burst from Lake Michigan. It’s early summer, but dark clouds hang in the air blocking the sun, so the air is unusually icy for June.
Perfect weather for a girl to hang up her dreams and call it a freaking day.
It’s my first night working at Rouge’s club, Aces Underground. I follow her directions to the letter, to the alleyway off Randolph and State, to the discreet black door adorned with the four playing-card symbols, and into the foyer where I’m greeted by fur-lined couches and the strangest-looking man I’ve ever met in my life.
His snow-white eyebrows rise as I walk in. “Miss Bianca. We’ve been expecting you.”
“H-Hi.” I cross my arms, running my hands up and down them. “Yes. I’m the new singer. And you are?”
“Chester Tabbitt, Miss Bianca. But you can call me Chet.”
“And you’re…what? The bouncer?”
He grins. “Something like that. I’m new to this post myself. Still learning the ropes.” He checks the watch on his wrist. It’s misshapen like the clocks in that Salvator Dalí painting. “We have fifteen minutes before opening. Come. I’ll show you around.”
Chet takes out a ring of keys and opens another door that leads to a staircase lined with mirrors. For a second I’m concerned that my sister has sold me into sex slavery—it wouldn’t be the worst thing she’s done to me—but then Chet flicks on a light switch, illuminating the way down.
He gestures to an emerald door at the bottom of the stairs. “This is the Green Door.”
“Thank you. I was able to tell that for myself, actually.”
His eyelids twitch. “I see you’re a regular comedienne, Miss Bianca.” He runs his yellowed fingernails up and down the wood of the door. “There are many entrances to and from Aces Underground. This one is Green. Another is Red. Find the third and you’re already dead.” He lets out a wheezy laugh.
What the fuck?
He opens the door and leads me into the main area of Aces. It’s gorgeous. Different colors illuminate each section—one for Spades, Diamonds, Clubs, and my domain, Hearts. The floor is a checkerboard floor in black and white. The waitstaff dart about, making preparations for the evening. The women are in bikinis and the men are shirtless with tight shorts. Both uniforms, if you can call them that, are speckled with the symbols of their respective section.
“And this, Miss Bianca, is your stage,” Chet says, gesturing to a glittering pink stage in the center of the Hearts section. There’s a standing mic right at the center and a pink baby grand to the side along with chairs for the other musicians.
I’ve practiced with them already. They’re nice guys. Rouge booked us space at the Fine Arts Building downtown. I’m not sure why we couldn’t practice here, but then again, I’ve never been able to wrap my head around my sister’s mind.
“Your dressing room is through that pink door,” Chet says, pointing. “There’s a private bathroom, as well as a bed.”
I cock my head. “A bed? Why on earth would I need a bed in my dressing room?”