OutlawQueen One Shots

All That Jazz

Atlantic City, New Jersey - Summer 1928

It was the beginning of the Modern Jazz Age; an era of evolution. The Roaring Twenties, they called it. It was a time of progression in American culture: cities boomed with economic growth, radios were being purchased by the tenfold, and fashion took an extreme turn.

It was a time often thought to be responsible for the "Birth of the New Woman." The decade brought social and political change with the guaranteed right for women to vote, according to the 19th Amendment. Most women worked white collar jobs for the first time in history while others lived a more culturally diverse lifestyle. The "flapper" was introduced as a symbol of unprecedented freedom and urban women embraced the image with open arms, cutting their hair and shortening their skirts. Self-expression was evident in the form of smoking, drinking, and the exploration of sexual awakenings. Some called it "freedom from suppression" after the Victorian Era while others saw it as "raunchy" and "unladylike."

Although the decade roared to life, it was stripped of a very important part of culture: alcohol. January 16, 1920 marked the beginning of Prohibition; the Volstead Act ending the distribution of intoxicating beverages. Taverns and saloons were closed nationwide within days, putting an incredible amount of hardworking citizens out of jobs. Regina Mills was one of these people.

Regina was a singer, or a "canary" as female singers were often referred. And a damn good one. She made her living performing in pubs along the boardwalk of Atlantic City, bringing in crowds with her immense talent. But this came to an end with Prohibition. Or so she thought. With the help of a few powerful gangsters, underground speakeasies popped up in the city and all of them wanted her to be their entertainment. Each night she sang her heart out, earning herself some generous tips if she sang to the right men in the crowd. Regina was a flapper through and through, but only on the stage; it was what the men wanted, what they paid for, so she gave it to them.

One particular evening during the summer of 1928, she began her shift like she would any other night until she spotted an unfamiliar patron entering the bar. He wasn't very tall, but was spiffy like the men usually were at the time. His forest green pinstriped suit caught her attention immediately, standing out amongst the sea of navy blues and blacks. He wore a matching fedora that hid most of his face from her view, but it didn't matter to her. Something about his presence captivated her and she deemed him her "bait" for the evening.

Her dark, ravenous hair was cut and pinned into a fashionable bob sporting a black headpiece with a red feather. Her black beaded dress, much shorter than her others, showing off just enough of her fishnets. But it was her voice that drew him in; raspy and deep with an undeniably sensual tone he'd never heard before. His blue eyes gazed at her from under the brim of his hat, wanting to catch a glimpse of the mysterious beauty responsible for the melodious sound.

She was breathtaking, to say the very least. He'd never been witness to such a captivating vision. Not even in his dreams. The way her hips swayed with the music, the frills of her dress swishing against her thighs; her red, lipsticked mouth nearly kissing the cold metal of the microphone as she sang. He was in awe of her.

Regina noticed the way his gaze pierced through her like an arrow through its target. Men often gawked at her; it was no secret that she was a looker. This man, however, was not gawking. He was not undressing her with his eyes like many others in the room so obviously were. He was simply admiring. Praising. Treasuring. Like one would value a work of fine art.

She completed her set, allowing the band to take the spotlight. A drink was waiting for her at the edge of the stage; not placed there by him, but she knew he was responsible for the gesture. She sauntered through the crowded bar, sipping the intoxicating beverage as she approached the empty stool beside him. Neither spoke nor did they openly acknowledge one another.