And all that jazz
I'm gonna rouge my knees
And roll my stockings down
And all that jazz
Big felt as though someone had whacked him upside the head with damn two-by-four. Her voice was clear, but sultry, and the slow, seductive way she was moving on stage was—sexy as hell.
Start the car
I know a whoopee spot
Where the gin is cold
But the piano's hot
It's just a noisy hall
Where there's a nightly brawl
And all that jazz!
The lyrics stopped registering the moment she started crawling backwards on stage, her legs going on for miles. And later when she did the splits in that tiny excuse for a costume without missing a beat, all the blood drained out of his head and swam south. He was pretty sure he was on the verge of drooling as he watched her, completely transfixed.
The music ramped up, as did the dancing when he saw her take center stage and she belted out the last few bars of the song.
No, I'm no one's wife
But, oh, I love my life
And all
That
Jazz!
That jazz!
Darkness fell on the stage again, as a roaring applause broke out around him. James nudged him, shaking him from the dirty fantasies in his head involving one Alisha Larrington and some fishnets. He looked around and started clapping with everyone else.
So much for being a chorus girl. Dammit, he felt like a fucking idiot. He'd insulted her, and she hadn't bothered correcting him. He supposed this was a much better way to prove her point. And fuck if she hadn't proven it, like, a trillion-fold.
"Looks like that fireman is a little hot under the collar for our girl," Russell whispered to Maggie, who nodded in agreement.
"We should arrange for them to talk after the show. She needs to get back out there," Maggie whispered back, smiling wickedly.
"I do love it when you plot, M," Russell grinned, hazarding another glance at the hot fireman down the row—make that hot firemen.
"Jake, is that the girl you rescued?" Rosemary whispered to her son.
Jesus. "Yes," he muttered, keeping his eyes on the stage.
"Oh, my—she's very talented, isn't she? I wonder if she's Jewish." She turned her own eyes back to the stage as the next number began.
Big wanted to shove a screwdriver into his temple. This night was taking a turn towards The Twilight Zone and he was over it. He just wanted everyone to shut the fuck up, so he could go back to watching the scantily clad girls dancing and not worry about the grand fantasies his mother was surely spinning in her head.
He didn't see Alisha again for a few numbers, but that Roxie chick was pretty hot, too, so he had very few complaints.
Alisha appeared again with the five other "merry murderesses" and he really enjoyed watching her dance and sway against those prison bars. Goddamn, musical theater wasn't supposed to be sexy, was it? But she was—even if the song was about these chicks going crazy murdering the men who'd done 'em wrong. Alisha had a killer set of pipes to go with the killer legs—and she looked hot in the wig, too.
He damn sure didn't want a girlfriend. He didn't do girlfriends. But he thought that maybe he could talk her into tearing up the sheets with him for a night. Sure, she seemed a little crazy from the two interactions he'd had with her, but she was hot. And that trumped crazy. He'd already seen the evidence of her flexibility, and just the thought of all the dirty things they could do to one another kept him entertained until intermission.
After the show was over, the group stood around in the lobby while James and Maggie chatted and exchanged numbers and Big half-assed listened to the conversation taking place between his mother, Annie and Russell. They were gushing over the show and the fact that he and Maggie had known Alisha forever. His ears perked up when Russell asked, "Do you want an introduction?"
"Oh—are you sure it's not too much trouble?" Rosemary asked hopefully.
"Of course not," Russell waved off. "Let me go and grab her."
"Did you enjoy the show?" Big asked his mother knowingly.
"Yes! It was fabulous. Thank you so much for bringing us. Though, I cannot believe you kept the fact that you knew the star of the show from me, Jake."
And this right here? This is why he usually kept his damn mouth shut. "I didn't know she was the star and I don't really know her," he pointed out, though it wasn't enough to placate her.
"Then why did she give you free tickets?"
"Because I asked her for them. Jesus." The withering glare made him flinch and look away awkwardly. He shoved his hands into his pockets and turned to study the poster on the wall as if it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen.
"Knock, knock," Russell called, breezing into the dressing room like he owned the place.
"Hi," Alisha beamed, zipping up her blue hoodie. "What are you doing back here?"
Russell eyed her sweatshirt and makeup-free skin with disdain and crinkled his nose. "Is that what you're wearing?"
Alisha looked down at her sweatshirt and jeans and then lifted her eyes to her friend. "Evidently—as these are the clothes currently on my body," she clipped tartly.
"Meow! Retract the claws, kitty. There are some fans outside that want to meet you. Namely a hot, hot fireman that you got tickets for. How come you didn't mention how sexy that man is?"
"Is he?" Alisha asked, feigning ignorance and combing her fingers through her hair trying to tug out the tangles from wearing her wig.
"You're not on stage anymore, you can quit acting," Russell said. He spotted her purse and snatched it off the counter, rifling through it for the makeup bag he knew she kept in there.
"Excuse me, rude much?" Alisha said, trying to wrestle it free from his grasp.
"Look, Maggie's out there chatting up James, and Big's out there with his mother and James's mother and they all want to tell you how fabulous you
