The Mobster's Girl

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

It had been three days of back to back shows, and already, Stella's muscles ached, to the point where it hurt her to walk. But each ache and pain was worth it, because she was living her dream of being a dancer. She was even grateful for the blisters and callouses that covered her feet, which screamed out in pain with every step she took. She knew that once her body grew accustomed to the long hours of practice, and night after night of performances, the blisters would go away, and it all would be worth it.

In fact, it was rumored that the owner of the speakeasy would be at the performance in the evening, and the girls were informed that they had to do their best, or be fired immediately.

It should have made Stella nervous, but she was more excited to show off her dance moves.

Stella was just stepping out to the speakeasy, where she'd spend the entire afternoon practicing. But first, she needed to grab a bite to eat at her favorite deli in town, which was a short walk away from her apartment.

As she stepped out into the lobby of the building, her neighbor below her, an older woman named Mrs. Carsen, was walking in at the same time.

"Stella, my dear, how good to see you!"

Stella returned the greeting and tried to duck out of the building as soon as possible, but the woman continued talking, and Stella didn't want to appear rude.

It wasn't that she disliked Mrs. Carsen, it was simply that the woman saw herself as a mother figure to Stella, and she had fought hard enough trying to get away from her own mother in Seattle. She certainly didn't need another mother.

"You be careful downtown, now. There have been multiple reports of crime!" The woman's face was pale, as if it was simply scandalous to hear of any crime in a large city. "Promise me you'll be safe," she pleaded, her face lined with worry.

Stella smiled reassuringly.

"You needn't worry about me, Mrs. Carsen. I'm much stronger than I appear."

Still, the woman didn't look convinced.

"I promise," Stella insisted, which seemed to satisfy the older woman.

With a wave, Stella was off to the deli, which she had been going to for the past couple of months since she first moved to Chicago. The owner was nice, and was the first friend that Stella had made in the new city, and the food was amazing. She went whenever she didn't feel like cooking, which was practically everyday, as she hated cooking, and she knew that if she limited the visits to once or twice a week, she'd have more money put away into savings, but it was a sacrifice she was more than willing to make.

Stella wove her way through the throngs of people on the busy streets, keeping her head down to avoid having to speak to anyone. Lucky for her, everyone ignored her, all of them eager to get to their destination with no distractions.

She took the fastest, most familiar route to get to the deli, and arrived within minutes. As she stepped into the shop, a bell above the door signaled her arrival, and Pete, the owner, looked away from the customer he had been serving at the front counter, and greeted Stella with a large smile.

He was an older widowed man with four daughters, who he loved deeply. He often mentioned to Stella that he viewed her as one of his children, and constantly reminded her that he was always there for her should she need him. He had a large belly, red face, and thinning grey hair, but Stella rarely saw him without a smile on his face.

He loved his deli that he had opened up on his own, and was immensely proud of it.

"Stella! Good to see you again. Your usual?"