Satin and Saxophones

You're Late.

My stomach twisted up into itself in hunger, and disgust as I tried to push the words out of my head. The man's invitation paired with a brown paper bag of hot food made me think twice about sending him on his way.My stomach rumbling at the thought of what could have been dwelling inside of its brown encasing. The words of my father jumping into the mix taunting my appearance swirled around the creep's. Shaking my head like an idiot I tried to push my conscience into their place. The day i had marched my way out of my abusive home, leaving my kid brother behind I had swore to myself to not stoop to that level. It would have been so easy to find some john, sell my body, and make somewhat of a life. It would be easier than all of this, I thought to myself looking around the alley I was hiding in while plotting my next scam to have a bed and hot meal for the night. However, even with that vow bouncing around my head I was starting to regret telling him to scram. There must of been a clever way to take him up on a hot meal, and then run from his invitation to join his whore house. His dazzling words describing a reality I knew wasn't close to reality. I had seen his girls in clubs, their dolled up faces not fully covering the bruises around their eyes, and cheeks from his cruel hand. I didn't want to be found in a ditch somewhere for speaking out of turn, or not pleasing a client. I was better than that, and I didn't run from everything I knew to fall into a trap of downgrading the fraction of morals I have. A swift breeze kicked up around my black soled feet, making me start to worry. I didn't want to spend a harsh winter on the streets, the harshness that was starting to emerge even though it was only the last week of October. It would be even harder once the first snow fell, sticking to everything, and covering the ground in it's brilliant white particles. Usually winter waited a few more weeks to rear its ugly head, but just as my luck usually ran it was coming early just as I didn't have a roof over my head anymore. Thinking back I remembered all of the winters I had spent with my family. How Michael, and I would wait for the first sign of snow running to play in its glory. Snow had once been one of my favorite things, its pureness almost as equal as the feeling of a freshly made bed. The linens still filtered with the smell of the clothesline, the only thing that could make it better the arms of a lover. I was sometimes such a romantic at heart it was ridiculous. Especially for someone that had never felt to touch of someone else in an intimate matter. Sometimes I would let my mind wander to the feeling of someone's arms wrapped around me, sun prickling into through the windows warming each of our tangled bodies. I could get myself carried away so often in the idea of being in love with the idea of love. Until I remembered that nobody would ever really love me. I was an oddity, for god's sake it was 1924, and even though women were finding their footing in the world I would never be beautiful enough to pass fully. I had always been such an awkward boy, tripping over my feet, hanging around with the girls or my face buried in some book. Constantly getting in trouble from my teachers, and father for refusing to cut my hair. Enjoying the way it crowded my shoulders, and framed my prominent cheek bones. Always earning me compliments from my girlfriends of how beautiful I was. Everyone had gone mad over the product of me taking a bottle of henna to my locks, my father beating me to what seemed like close to death at the time. Brushing a strand of hair behind my ear, I refused to dwell on that memory, instead trying to focus on the sound of the buzzing clubs in downtown Newark. Their walls full of women I idolized, their beauty so effortless. Their faces powdered, and lips coated in dark lipstick as they licked their tongues over their glasses full of Gin Rickeys. I was running low on the stolen cosmetics I had acquired over the last few months, even worse my stockings were starting to become covered in runs. Their fabric a must have in concealing my long slightly muscular legs. When I rolled them over my legs they became so much more shapely ending in a pair of black pumps. Envisioning myself in a red drop waist dress, a hat clipped perfectly in place, and my makeup just right I started to smile. One day I wouldn't be putting my hair in rag curls, and sleeping with my suitcase pressed close to my chest down a dark alleyway. I'd have a home, or small apartment, my closet filled with beautiful things. But, for now I needed to pull myself together, and find someone to stash my blue suitcase so I could go bat my eyelashes in the dim light of a club wooing men into buying me a drink or two with a bar snack. Bringing myself to my feet, I smoothed my skirt over my legs and began my search for a club's back door that I could slip into just long enough to powder my nose. Sentencing myself to a night of dancing away, and flirting endlessly.

"Hey dollface, you're late." a voice called out to me as I turned down an a dimly lit alleyway. His short figure stepping out of the shadow a cigarette perched between his fingers pulling me out out of my determined haze. A gleaming saxophone hung around his neck as the lights danced over the brass. His face making my body melt, and my eyes instantly begin to bat their curled eyelashes. Raising a finger to my chest my legs stopped as I challenged myself to make eye contact with his hazel ones. "Doll, don't just stand there. We've been waiting for your pretty face out on stage for an hour." he called taking a step toward me making my shoulders tense. I watched as his lips wrapped around the cigarette inhaling and then blowing the smoke up into the air letting it swirl into the sky. Taking a look over my shoulder and then back into his kind eyes I tried to find any reason to say no. My empty head, and stomach coming up with nothing I took a step toward him as he made up the difference his hand cradling the small of my back as he threw his cigarette behind us leading me inside the small back door. I couldn't help but begin fussing with my messy hair, misplaced worry in my appearance, and not in this odd situation. "Okay sweetheart, just powder your nose i'll get your dress and boa." he smiled leading me to a vanity full of cosmetics. As i kicked my suitcase under the table I looked back at myself hungrily taking advantage of the plethora of products smearing them onto my face to trick my few masculine features into feminine ones. As I watched him come back with a black evening gown embellished with sequins, and a red feather boa laid over its shoulder.

"I.. uh I think you have the wrong person." I finally admitted out loud as the beauty of the dress clouded all sense in my brain.

"Oh sweetheart, our girl ran out on us a few shows ago, but i've you singing in this club to her songs. Your voice is perfect, and I want you to join us on stage tonight. I know you know the set list by heart." he smiled laying his hands on my shoulders as he bent his head so that we were almost cheek to cheek. Shock tracing its self along my cheeks. "What's your name gorgeous?" he asked grabbing a jeweled hair comb off of the vanity and brushing it into my hair pulling my veil of wavy black hair away from my cheek.

"G..Gee." I stuttered the feeling of his touch making me tense, and comfortable in the same breath. A goofy smile erupted over his face making me chuckle happily.

"Names Frank, Frank Iero. Get dressed and we'll go out. I was waiting for you out there for awhile i'm happy you walked by. I was starting to worry about ya." He said laying a small kiss on my cheek and disappearing around the corner talking to someone about how they could go out in fifteen. Making eye contact with myself most of the time I pulled the dress on, and zipped the zipper that trailed from my hip to right under my armpit. It all felt so surreal the feeling of satin on my body, the tickle of red feathers crowding my neck as its tail trailed down my back. The entire ensemble clinging to the curves of my body, leaving me feeling impossibly right, but nervous.