☆ ᴡᴀᴛᴛʏꜱ 2024 SHORTLISTER!! ☆
A tragic misunderstanding. A murder. A secret. An unlikely partnership. A spirited countess and an enterprising racketeer.
~~~
Manchester, England. May 1925.
The Roarin' 20s. An era of glamor, decadent parties, jazz mus...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Expectation was the root of all heartache. Shakespeare had said so. Therefore, Rose considered this statement to be irrefutable fact.
However, on this particular Friday evening, she found herself hoping that the hallowed words of The Bard would prove untrue. She had very high and specific expectations for what would come to pass, and disappointment would mean failure. Failure was not an option.
Come the final curtain of Macbeth, the night had thus far gone smoothly. Despite the bodice and bust of the vile yellow dress being too tight for comfort, and Jimmy's hand fondling her knee for the entirety of the performance, Rose very much enjoyed the play. The actors showcased extraordinary talent, eliciting a wide range of emotion from all members of the audience. Rose was especially impressed with Lady Macbeth, whose slow deterioration into madness was both fascinating and heartbreaking to witness.
Jimmy seemed to enjoy the battles most, and he whooped and applauded a bit too loudly for polite society during the final sword skirmish between Macbeth and Macduff. “Stick it to him good, mate!” he jeered at the actors, making a jabbing motion with an imaginary blade. He grinned and nudged Rose in the ribs. “That's how I'd do it.”
Mortified by the glares of the other theater-goers at his tactless declaration, she gave him a subtle smile and a nod to pacify him. Without her conscious consent, her mind went to the switchblade tucked away in her reticule. William had insisted she carry it, but knots formed in Rose's stomach at the very thought of having to ‘stick it to’ anyone. Even Jimmy and his wandering hand.
Invigorated by the bows and applause, Rose was more determined than ever to see the plan through. As she and Jimmy exited the Kensington Theater with the other audience members, she slipped her arm through the crook of his elbow. In her peripheral, she noticed Elijah leaning against the side of the building smoking a cigarette, but she kept her gaze trained forward.
“What a marvelous show!” she remarked.
“Ya liked that, did ya?” Jimmy asked, a pleased smile twisting his lips. “I'm glad! Thought I'd be bored, but nah, that was right brilliant! Ol' Willy Boy can write a fuckin' play, can't he?”
Rose bristled at the disrespectful nickname assigned to Shakespeare, but swallowed her disdain, squeezed Jimmy's boney arm, and smiled up at him. “It was splendid. Thank you so much for inviting me.”
“My pleasure, gorgeous,” he replied. His eyes were hungry as he stared down at her. “Always enjoy time spent with ya. And ya look especially fetching in that dress. Knew ya would!”
Rose repressed the grimace that wanted to invade her face. As predicted, the yellow dress was as hideous on as it was off, and she'd received multiple glances of distaste from other audience members at the snug fit of the bodice and bust. If her mother were to see her out in public dressed in this frock, she would be promptly drawn and quartered.
