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All That Jazz

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The heavy smoke in the air appeared blue in the spotlight, parting and curling around Marianne like water as she slinked across the stage, feeling both silly at playing the part of some Siren Singer but also powerful, the black jet beads of her gown glimmering like mad in the powerful beam, giving her a soft radiance as her voice cut through the smoke and hubbub of the club’s crowd, “If you want to dance cheek to cheek, then go home and talk all night long…”

 

Knocking back another shot, Brutus gave an appreciative grunt both at the whiskey that this place had managed to corner and the smooth, sultry tones of the new torch singer, some rich girl who apparently liked playing with fire if she was performing at a club like this - a club the Boss was willing to fight tooth and nail for - and nodded his head as the smoky melody continued, “If you want to send somebody flowers, and share some stupid song…”

 

Brutus smirked as the dame slid onto the piano, her gams making a daring appearance, and was about to make some comment about the hotsy-totsy little number she had on when he heard the Boss give a sharp inhale; when he glanced over, Brutus felt a jolt when he saw the Boss was looking at the girl with wide blue eyes, staring at her like she was…hell, Brutus had never thought he would ever see an expression like that on the Boss – 

 

The gal leaned back in a sultry, supine pose, her voice washing over the club in a melodious, seductive wave, “If you want a woman who believes that you’re what her life’s all about, Baby…” - she looked out over the crowd with smoky, smoldering brown eyes and gave a cynical smirk and a wink, and Brutus swore he heard the Boss give a gulp - “…count me out.”