The Mobster's Girl

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

It was nearly a week after the fiasco with her parents, and Stella had finally received word from them.

All they had sent was a telegram.

YOU ARE HEREBY CUT OFF.

Her parents couldn't muster up the courage to call her over the phone to tell her the inevitable, and had instead, sent her a sentence long telegram.

She knew that the news of them cutting her off would be coming, and yet, it didn't soften the blow.

She held the telegram in her hand, and sank down into one of her kitchen chairs, her ears suddenly ringing. She felt foolish for reacting the way she was, especially since she knew that her parents would stop sending money. Why would they continue, after all? They didn't approve of what she was doing, and she had lied to them. She deserved what was happening to her.

Her stomach suddenly churned, and she dropped the telegram on the table and rushed to the bathroom, where she emptied her stomach contents in the toilet. She sat back once she was finished, hugged her knees to her chest, and took a shaky breath.

She kept telling herself that she would be all right, but a nagging voice in the back of her mind kept telling her that she wouldn't be, especially since she had spent the last few days searching for a second job, and still hadn't found anything.

She couldn't help but wonder if she was following the right career path. After all, hundreds of girls dreamt about the same things she did. They all wanted to be some sort of famous performer, even if it was something other than a dancer, like Stella wanted to be. In all those hundreds of girls, only a handful would make it big, where they could work for a few years, until they were too old for the industry, and could retire early and live happily for the rest of their lives. The others would have to find something else.

Stella feared that she would have to find a job as a secretary, or worse, get married and live out her days as a mother. She couldn't successfully take care of herself, which was proven in the last couple of days. How could she take care of children?

And she didn't want to get married and be seen as a baby-maker and nothing more. She'd heard about the horror stories where women got married and lost all their freedoms. She had seen with her own eyes, the way her mother was submissive to her father. She could nag all the wanted to, but in the end, her father's opinion was what mattered.

She didn't want to have to rely on a man to help take care of her for the rest of her life; she wanted to take care of herself.

Her goal for moving to Chicago was to rely on her parents' money for a few months, until she found a job that helped her afford her apartment and bills on her own. Jack paid her well, but not well enough for her expenses, which was also something she needed to work on. Without her parents' money, she fell just short. Even if Jack were to give her a raise, it likely wouldn't be much, and she wouldn't have enough money for emergencies or savings.

Stella's stomach churned again, but she willed herself not to get sick again. Once she felt better, she went and laid down in her bed, the blankets wrapped tight around her like a cocoon. She knew that she needed to get up and go to rehearsal, but she couldn't will herself to get out of bed. She was tired, and wasn't feeling herself, and knew that any performance she gave would be awful.

She hoped the girls and Jack would understand.

Stella stayed in bed for the rest of the day, and the next day, and the next, until finally, someone from the club came looking for her, fearing the worst since she hadn't bothered to call in sick. She woke up to someone pounding on her door, and opened her eyes to orange light streaming through her curtains, telling her that the sun was setting. She had no idea what time it was, or what day it was, and she had only left her bed the last few days to use the restroom.