The Story Of Sarelle (Twilight)

Chapter 50

It's 4 a.m. and the streets are uncharacteristically quiet for this city that never sleeps. Then again the prohibition has tightened its grip on New York's nightlife these past six months.

Six months, it's strange to think I've been here that long. The months seem to have flown by. Or perhaps that is just how it seems because so much has changed. I've changed. My past self seems a lifetime away. The last few scraps of my prudish nature have slowly been eroded. It had to be because the words prim and proper don't ring true when you're a flapper girl.

My heels clicked on the concrete pavement, a metronome beat, a constant while my dress created a tinkling melody with my every step. The crystals clinked off each other, sashaying as my hips moved. The whole outfit was made to highlight my body. A short hem, a mass of sequins and sparkling beads, a low neckline, it was an advert to which any man could reply.

I would have never worn this before. I would have preferred to be concealed to some extent, let my parents' morals guide me into a more respectable outfit. Not now. Now I swung my hips with each step because I liked the way the fabric moved on my skin. I liked the 1940s; it was my kind of era. Or at least it was my kind of era now; it certainly wouldn't have been a few years ago. Then again having the knowledge that you're destined to die has a wonderful way of lifting the weight of consequences from one's shoulders.

There was a sense of freedom that came with this era, even though the prohibition was rife and the world was still recovering from the blow the Second World War had delivered. In truth, maybe I only felt the freedom because my life held no rules now. I didn't own a house because I stayed with the other Girls. I didn't have to think of money because I had Aslo's funds sustaining me, that and the generous gifts from the patrons of The Back Door. Being a flapper meant embracing the very essence of freedom.

It's odd really, to think just how far I've come in these past few months. I've celebrated another birthday bringing me to the less than tender age of seventeen. I've opened my eyes to the world of alcohol, music, and smoky rooms. I've discovered how to be a woman, how to rule your femininity and embrace the power it can have. Of course all these things make it seem like a glorious journey, some fun ride. It wasn't. Not in the beginning. Before Kallie found me, I was a mess. I'd jumped to New York in the depths of winter, snow covering the ground in a thick cottony layer. My regal ball gown did little to fend off the cold, or help me blend in. I had sat for hours in the alley way I'd jumped to, shivering and shaking with the freezing temperature. It was in this state that Kallie had found me.

I had apparently jumped to the alleyway which The Girls house backed onto, so when Kallie took out the rubbish she stumbled upon me.

She was kind, generous, but most of all she was as persuasive as the Devil, leading me into the world of sin I've become accustomed to. She was a dancer, a performer, and a waitress all rolled into one at the nearby Speakeasy. It was a place called The Back Door, a friendly neighbourhood shop on the outside, but on the inside it was something very different. Jack O'Leary, the boss, made his money selling the things that you couldn't buy at the market and couldn't enjoy in public. Fun, sex, smokes, alcohol, girls. He catered for every taste and desire. I was just another flavour to be added to the mix.

Of course I wasn't legal, since I was only sixteen when I arrived in New York, but that didn't matter. He still dressed me up in an outfit of sparkles and spangles and sent me out to parade around the bar, selling cigarettes and smiles.

It was strange and disconcerting at first-a chore not a pleasure-but eventually I grew to like the conversations I had with the men, the glances I got, and the sense of womanhood I shared with the other Girls. There were six of us in total. Myself, who sold cigarettes. Kallie, Angelique, and Elena played multiple roles as waitresses and dancers. Then there was Lila Gomez. She was the head act, the showstopper, the one they came to see. She was also a diva, an alcoholic, and Jack's little Latino bit on the side.