<span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">Club interior: <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2F4TTN5Cb.jpg&amp;hash=43f253cf41a5e311f0265705aa166318" href="https://i.imgur.com/4TTN5Cb.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Interior 1</a>, <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2F6BHjzcn.jpg&amp;hash=93e32767648c695429f4e88712bb697b" href="https://i.imgur.com/6BHjzcn.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Interior 2</a>, <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=https%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FS7owixv.jpg&amp;hash=c2d8ada5ca37ae9276932e9a776351bb" href="https://i.imgur.com/S7owixv.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Stage</a><br/>
<br/>
Lettie sipped her water slowly minding her own business. Her curiosity always got the best of her. Her ears picked up on the heavy footsteps descending into the cellar of the club. Her eyes followed from his shoes, up his trousers, to the suspenders, followed by a white shirt, slightly damp from the heat. Muscles flexing underneath to a scultped face with equally alluring hazel eyes to match.<br/>
<br/>
He walked over to her father asking for the person in charge. Baptiste ceased his strumming and placed the bass carefully back in it's case. "That be me sir," his deep tenor voice rumbled with authority. <br/>
<br/>
Distractions seemed to get him otherwise. Because within those fleeting moments, their eyes met.<br/>
<br/>
Her green met his hazel. <br/>
<br/>
Lettie's brow arched as they stared. Never had anyone looked at her that way. It felt...foreign. Strange. A slight shiver ran down her back. Marcel noticed her body language change.<br/>
<br/>
"You alright, sœur?"<br/>
<br/>
"Hmmm...oui," she breathed turning away from the man and taking a sip from her water. She removed her hat, letting the dark curly tresses tumble down. "Just winded is all. I should go rest before tonight."<br/>
<br/>
Baptiste frowned to himself slightly on hinge for having to get the man out if a stupor. "You okay, you? So you da rum runner? I heard a lot a good things yeah. Product premium, hmm?"<br/>
<br/>
Business talk began. Marcel and Rene walked over to introduce themselves. Tony the man's name was. He showed them the baking supplies...all imported. The booze. Rene grinned elbowing his brother. They were certainly going to be making money now. More product, meant more customers. Baptiste was pleased. They unloaded the product, moving the barrels and getting the baking ingredients to the pantry upstairs. Once they finished, Baptiste and his sons treated Tony to a drink at bar in celebration of a successful partnership.<br/>
<br/>
Lettie had moved towards the stage, wanting to practice before the evening. Only their drummer and handful of brass players were there currently. She tapped her heel to the beat they playing, humming along.<br/>
<br/>
Marcel gave Tony a slight bow as the money was exchanged. "Hope you come by when we open. Lettie put's on one hell of a show!"<br/>
<br/>
Rene nodded in agreement. "Yeah with our Papa leading the band, I tell ya ain't no sweeter sound you."<br/>
<br/>
<b>Later that night</b><br/>
<br/>
Lettie's outfit: <a class="link link--external" data-proxy-href="/proxy.php?link=http%3A%2F%2Fi.imgur.com%2FqINiryz.jpg&amp;hash=ad01dbe43d05bc48971fb5947f6e4b62" href="http://i.imgur.com/qINiryz.jpg" rel="nofollow ugc noopener" target="_blank">Dress</a><br/>
<br/>
The Rose Noir was open for business. Patrons scrambled in for good seats and to taste the best booze in Harlem. Lettie placed the finishing touches to her makeup, bit a rouge, a dab of lipstick, the spritz of perfume. On with the show.<br/>
<br/>
She walked through the crowd waving and smiling as she swayed. The dress shimmered under the candles placed at the tables. She was a vision. Her true form in bloom. No pretending. Baptiste saw his daughter and his heart swelled. He held out his hand for her to come to the stage.<br/>
<br/>
"Welcome to da Rose Noir. Enjoy the ever running of liquor. My home is your home. I'd like to introduce my <i>belle fille</i> Lettie. We are the New Orleans Soul.  <i>Prendre plaisir</i>, enjoy yourself ladies and gentlemen!"<br/>
<br/>
Lettie stepped to the microphone, turning her head slightly for her father to get the signal. The first few notes played making her sway. She let the music take hold as she blessed the room with her song.<br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><i>Someday he'll come along</i><br/>
<i>The man I love</i><br/>
<i>And he'll be big and strong</i><br/>
<i>The man I love</i><br/>
<i>And when he comes my way</i><br/>
<i>I'll do my best to make him stay</i><br/>
<br/>
</span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">The piano keys danced as she continued on. The audience swayed. A few getting up to dance with their space someone. </span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><br/>
<br/>
<i>He'll look at me and smile</i><br/>
<i>I'll understand</i><br/>
<i>Then in a little while</i><br/>
<i>He'll take my hand</i><br/>
<i>And though it seems absurd</i><br/>
<i>I know we both won't say a word</i><br/>
</span>​</div><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'">Lettie sang on letting the lyrics out her emotions. No one esle in the room mattered as she sang. Her heart only in the music.<br/>
</span><br/><div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><i>Maybe I shall meet him Sunday</i><br/>
<i>Maybe Monday, maybe not</i><br/>
<i>Still I'm sure to meet him one day</i><br/>
<i>Maybe Tuesday will be my good news day</i><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<i>He'll build a little home</i><br/>
<i>That's meant for two</i><br/>
<i>From which I'll never roam</i><br/>
<i>Who would, would you</i><br/>
<i>And so all else above</i><br/>
<i>I'm dreaming of the man I love</i><br/>
</span>​</div>