The Fallen Rose

You Jaspers, Are Marvelous
August 12th, 1946
Night

"Don’t blame meeeeee, for falling in love with youuuuu..." It was a pleasant night at the Rose Blossom Nightclub.
Pink lights dimly illuminated the building. Gentlemen sat around tables smoking cigars and playing poker, while bartenders dried off wine glasses and listened to the sweet voice of the singer. Wealthy couples from all over treated themselves to the nightclub’s first class enrapturing rose theme. Waitresses bounced from table to table serving guests their unique rose-inspired dishes. A typical scene on Baker St., Hell’s Kitchen, New York.
The main event tonight was the nightclub performer, a lovely lady singing on stage. National singer Cherry Kiss. Her angelic voice rang through the dimly lit club, seductively threading an intimate connection with all who listened.
The audience’s hearts were captured.
“I’m under your spell, but how can I help it! Don’t blame meeeeeee..."
This night, however, was just another for a particularly well-groomed guest. A tall, dangerously handsome man, aged 34 years. He sat in the middle, at a far right booth among older men, dressed in a dark velvet tuxedo. A wolf among sheep.
"Can’t you seeeeee? When you do the things you dooooo..."
He didn't much care for the poker or liquor, and he could definitely pass on the cigars. He cared for one thing and one thing only, and that was who he was luring outside the club tonight.
Besides, to the man smoking was simply unsanitary. "Yellow teeth, bad breath, incessant coughing- who wants any of that?" Thought the guest. There was no way he could do what he did if he weren’t in peak condition.
“If I can’t reveal the things that I’m feeling, don’t blame meeeeee...”
And they couldn’t just be anyone, either. They had to fulfill three specific requirements. One, they must be a woman. Two, they must be beautiful by his standards. And three, they must possess immense talent in song.
Tonight, he’d already set his sights on his target.
"I can’t help it. If that doggone moooooon abooooove, it makes me want someone like yooou, to loooooove...”
The man always achieved his goal flawlessly. It was a system that he had perfected during his first hunts. A perfect system with perfect execution. It had to be, anything less wasn’t acceptable. It was as simple as that. Any error, no matter how small, would ruin the composition. He couldn’t have that, it would be a disgrace to the beauty of his work and his pride as a performer. The man always achieved his goal. Flawlessly.
A wrinkled hand drunkenly landed on the guest's shoulder. This hand belonged to his father's childhood friend, Bart Scone. Grey whiskers, bald head, spectacles, cane and all. The old man, aged 86 years, was still a joyous soul in old age and possessed a rather charming case of short term memory loss.
The guest had known old Bart ever since he was little and cared for him very much. Bart had been almost like a grandfather to him when he was younger.
"Hey, V, how's about you have a drink with ol Bart and his men, eh? The crew's running low on booze!"
“Blame your kisssss, as sweet as a kiss can beeeeeeee...”
The guest gave him a sincere smile and stood up. He never could refuse Bart's requests. "Why not? There's still an hour before the Blossom closes. But," he added in a firm tone, “I will be getting water, not any alcoholic beverages of any sort. My apologies, Bart."
"Sonny, why don't you ever drink? Grab a cigar, light it up, share some booze with the men, and grab a deck of cards- some chips- dice eh? Have a little fun! I tell ya, when I was your age I couldn’t drink enough!”
“And blame all your charms, that melt in my arms, but don’t blame meeeeee!...”
The guest pretended to briefly think about it, but already knew his answer, as he had answered this question a million times before. Bart always forgot. "Sorry pop, I need to be sober tonight. I have certain ‘activities’ plans for later. Besides, someone as young as you should be careful about his alcohol intake."
Bart elbowed him in the ribs. "Reaaaal funny, V. You better get those drinks before I show you how young I really am, and wallop ya around the block with my cane."

The guest waltzed to the bar and ordered the crew’s beverages.
The sheer amount sickened him. "Gauche," he muttered to himself as the image of the older men drinking glass after glass of booze filled his mind. The very idea of smoking made him sick, too. The wafts of smoke in the club and their terrible smell. The way it filled up the men's lungs and left like burning coal from a train. How it collected over time in their lungs like tar. Their ceaseless coughing. It was all so unclean. "Simply gauche…" He drifted away from the counter.
When preparing tall orders such as these, the bartenders needed ample time to finish them. Time the guest could use to research his prey before confronting them.
He silently entered the performer’s lounge. Inside the lounge, Cherry’s luggage sat beside an old ebony chair. A single purse dangled from its dark edge while an umbrella idly rested by its side. No giant bags or grand briefcases, just a purse and an umbrella. A bit minimalistic in comparison to other performers perhaps, but their designs were definitely eye-catching.
"Interesting. Thorny black vines over a crisp burgundy base complimented by an inky black rose petal lace. My style.” thought the guest, as he examined them. He then began investigating the purse.
The contents weren't anything other than what you'd expect to find in a woman's purse. A fold-up mirror, make-up instruments, a comb, perfume, a wallet, keys, etc. There had to be something unique about this woman other than her fashion sense.
Then, at the bottom, he discovered a picture diary. "Ah, just my luck...” he whispered, analyzing its design. It had the exact same stylization as the purse and was quite well-kept- although you could tell that she had had it for quite some time.
He flipped through the diary.
Every photograph was labeled by the location they were taken in. One was labeled Philadelphia. She was on stage, wearing a light colored dress, and appeared to be singing as if nothing else mattered in the world. There were people cheering in the back. Her shadow served as a dramatic contrast to the bright stage she stood upon.
He flipped to the next.
Another was labeled California. This time the woman was dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans. She posed in front of an ice cream parlor with a group of friends. The next picture was from Massachusetts- another photograph of her singing on stage- nothing special.
There were a dozen more photos in other states; many of them paired with casual ones. They were all the same ooh-look-at-this hodge-podge, until V suddenly realized something. Interestingly enough, in just about every casual picture, another woman accompanied her. She appeared again. Then again. He took note of this. The woman bore strong resemblance to the performer, though her face was younger and rounder. Cherry’s little sister, perhaps?
He could tell the two were close. The question was, how close? Close enough to pose a risk to him? Was she in the bar right now? V didn't recall seeing this woman anywhere before. Was she waiting to pick Cherry up after the show? If he were to bring Cherry home tonight, would the sister catch wind of it?

Not that she would pose much of a problem if she did find out. Just a few sweet words and presto, she'd be out of the way.
As he continued to flip through the album, he came across a picture that took his fancy. It was a photo of her in a sundress lying on a towel at the beach. She was wearing the brightest smile in the world. Her teeth were pearly white.
While the picture was black and white, he could tell that it was mid-day when it was taken. The sky was clear and the shadows were mid-length. He read the location. Wildwood, New Jersey.
The way the sun landed on her hair- it fell on it in such a way, the sunlight resonated through it. It was as if the sun itself were in her hair. He brought the photo into the light. “My, my.” The woman was incomparably beautiful. He'd seen many in his time, but there was something different about her. Something… familiar. He closed the diary.

"Hello V!” called out the green eyed, red-headed bartender, Charlotte Muffins. Hands full with the large beverage tray, she trotted through the door.
"Greetings, Charlotte." replied the guest.
The young woman, naive and hopeful, had recently moved from England to America after her previous workplace burned to the ground in an arson attack. Although few were hurt in the fire, it left a hole in the community's heart. People scrambled for work, leaving little room for others. With no way of making money in the small town, Charlotte was forced to leave her home. At 26 years of age, she is an intrepid worker who started her work at The Rose Blossom Nightclub a few months prior.
Ever since her arrival at the nightclub she had been hopelessly in love with V, and hopelessly too shy to confess, too. V knew this and loved to fluster her. He found her childish antics amusing, like a kitten trying to stand on two feet. Cute, but not to be taken seriously. No, Charlotte would never be a part of his performance, she would faint before it even started.
Now that Charlotte was face to face with him rather than across the room she grew nervous. She placed the tray onto the counter and giggled skittishly as she tried her best not to make eye contact. “Here’s your order V, please enjoy, hehehe…"
This did not escape his notice in the least. Perhaps he'd tease her. "Thank you, Charlotte. Here, I’ll...” Rather than simply placing the money on the counter for her to collect, the guest decided to put the tray down and personally hand the cash to Charlotte. “You know, to make sure no one snatches it...” She held her breath as he held her hand, placed the cash in it, then gently closed it. “Oh, V-V- V, s-stop, you… and you're welcome, hehehe.” The feeling of his hand over hers…
She looked off to the side, the distant thought of confessing to him surfacing. There were so many times Charlotte thought the moment was right, but she could never muster enough courage to do it. But. But maybe. Maybe now she could. Yes, I can do this. I can do this. You are not going to bloody run away Charlotte, you are not going to bloody run away scared! You are going to be BRAVE and say it!
Slowly, Charlotte worked her eyes up to his, freckled cheeks hot with embarrassment. “Um, V, I have something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about. For a, for a while now. Oh bollocks.”
He narrowed his eyes. "Hmmm? What would that be, Charlotte? I would love to hear it.”
Charlotte’s heart beat even faster as she looked him directly in the eyes. Her thoughts went rampant. That black hair, that stubble, those amber-y gold eyes! ...She couldn’t do it. “Er, nothing actually! I-I really have to go now! Bye!” She ran to the kitchen as fast as she could and slammed the door behind her.
V lifted the tray from the counter. He briefly shook his head with a smile, almost in pity for the young woman. “Poor girl.”

“For if you doooooo, my dreams will come truuuuuuue...” The poker crew greeted him with flushed smiles and hearty laughter as he leisurely made his way to the table. "Good ol' V. Place the tray right here would ya?" cheered the older men.
"Certainly."
The sight of the drunken men filled him with disdain. This wasn’t new. In his eyes they were barbaric. He would never be seen so insolent. Being so loud and unruly. Never.
However, Bart was an exception to this. Bart was a sweet old man who deserved only the best. Not like the others. He was what made any nightclub bearable. The guest loved him very much.
"Pleaaaaaase love meeeeee! Love me as I love youuuuuuu...!" The final song came to a close.
The audience applauded with gusto, for the performer tonight had done especially well. Roses were thrown, whistles sounded, liquor glasses were downed, and awed whispers drifted through the tables. Cherry Kiss modestly bowed to the crowd then exited the stage, her wavy, golden hair lightly bouncing with every step. Her scarlet heels clicked against the wooden floorboards.

It was time. The woman would be heading backstage to gather her belongings before she headed to the exit. He stood up, but a hand on his shoulder sat him back down. "Hey sonny, where ya goin'? The crew's settin' up one last game of blackjack, don't you wanna join?" “...”
The kill was more important. "My apologies, but I must be going. I've business to attend to.”
Bart followed the direction of V’s eyes, then let him go with a sly smile. "Got your eye on Cherry Kiss, eh? Don't blame ya, she's a real looker, that one- and what a voice! It's like I was listening to a damn angel from ‘eaven! You gotta wonder ‘ow a woman like ‘er don’t ‘ave a ‘usband yet."
Then he whispered and nudged the guest’s shoulder. "Woman's also got the body of an angel, too. Boy does she got a real nice trunk in the back- baby makin’ ‘ips- and don’t you get me started on that ‘ood in the front.” Bart whistled. “Sweet momma!"
V held his brow. Bart, you old lecher, he thought.
“Easy, pop. I’m not doing that tonight, trust me.”
"Oooh, then are ya lookin’ to marry ‘er, V?"
V smiled slightly as the performer pulled the curtain aside and stepped through. "You'll receive an invitation to my wedding reception in a year, pop."
"Aye, you go get 'er, son, hehehe. Don't leave me ‘anging now!" Bart patted him off as he walked through the door, unbeknownst to him his lad’s true intentions. “I’m expecting to be a godfather!”

~x~

Out in the hallway, V silently crept through the shadows. As he did so he fantasized about her. The way she would look when he decked her out for his performance. Rose in hand. Skin pale as ivory. Eyes dark as night. Burgundy floral dress. A trickle of blood. Yes, she would be perfect. V found the perfect spot and leaned against the wall. It was only a matter of time before the curtain would rise again.
* ...Creaaaaaaaaaak…*
The door lightly pressed open, revealing the performer in all her grace.
She sauntered through the dim hall, her long black, backless dress trailing behind her. The dress hugged her shape, accentuating her petite yet voluptuous figure. The woman’s wavy hair spilled past her shoulders, falling down her back like a waterfall of gold. Her sultry eyes were black as night, curtained by long, shadowy eyelashes and light blue eyeshadow.
The surface of her pale skin was unblemished, save a small beauty mark on her jawline. Her cherry red lips stirred up desire in any man, their plumpness ravishing, as if daring you to steal a kiss. Around her neck was a necklace of dark onyx crystals; and clipped on her arm was a bracelet of rubies.
Truly, she was a sight to behold.
The guest's face flashed a wicked smile. “Wonderful.” The guest's voice rang out from her side quite suddenly, startling her.
“Oh!”
He rose from the wall and stepped into the light. “My apologies, darling, it was not my intention to frighten you.” He was frighteningly tall.
Collecting herself, she apologized. “No no, I am the one who is sorry. I didn’t see you there, sugar."
"All is fair. I was just reminiscing about the wonderful event that took place earlier. It was most marvelous." He rested his gaze on her pristine shoulders. “Most marvelous indeed...”
A faint aroma of roses began to surround the lady. "I-I don’t think I understand what you mean. What wonderful event?” She asked, intrigued by the rose scent.
“Well darling, what other event than the performance you gifted us tonight? What a performance! Bravo! I can't remember the last time I heard such a melody. Such elegance." He clapped twice, bent down to her level, then swiftly extended a gloved hand to her. “Such divinity.” The aroma of roses became stronger.
She shook his hand, bashfully placing her other hand on her cheek. "Oh, that, sugar? That was nothing. I was just loosening up my voice. Surely you've heard better- it was nothing special. My voice was even the tiniest bit choppy."
“No, no. I am sure of it. It was your performance that sprang me out of a most dull and gray mood. You brought a wondrous color to my night. Your talent, darling." Dull and gray had been the exact opposite of how he had been feeling that night. “Your vocals were so natural they completely overshadowed any choppiness that may have been present. No need to sell your lovely gift short."
The performer looked off to the side for a moment, then back at the man. He had a classy energy about him… and she liked that.
A playful curiosity brewed in her heart. “If you thought that was amazing, then how would you like to listen to me when I’m fully prepared? Truthfully, I had got to the studio just in time tonight for my performance, but didn't quite have time to loosen my vocals." She shook her head a bit. "It is so unlike me to arrive at the last minute.”
His amber eyes met hers. "If that performance tonight was you loosening your voice, I can not hope to imagine just how wonderful you sound when fully prepped. It would truly be my pleasure to be part of your audience once more."
Her eyebrows rose a little. He sure had a charming little mouth on him, didn't he? "You are just full of pretty words, aren’t you sugar?" This fellow could make even the asphalt on the road seem smooth with how he spoke. She brushed a lock of her hair to the side and her smile widened ever-so-slightly; she was tickled to say the least. "You ought to know what game you are playing when you say such things to a woman~"
She paused, then added. "I will be performing here in Hell's Kitchen for a while. Come to another.” As she said that, she noticed the rose scent once more. The fragrance, not too strong or mild, tickled her senses. She was fascinated by it; and likewise, fascinated by him.
“Pretty words for a pretty woman, darling. All deserving, I assure you."
“Ah, you remind me yet.” She twirled her hair around a finger while looking him up and down. "Who is this man? This tall, devilish man?" She thought with playful curiosity as her cheeks grew rosy.
She remembered so many men falling over themselves for her, vying for her attention. The drunken ones received a quick kick to the curb, while the sober ones took a bit more ‘convincing’. Several garnered a good hard slap. The woman was small, but one tough cookie.
She no doubt had been responsible for more than a few red cheeks.
Though she had just met him, his person had proven quite alluring. Maybe it was his dark hair paired with his mysterious amber eyes? Or perhaps his articulate nature? Or maybe it was his convincing interest in her talent? Whatever it was, she quickly found herself falling more and more in his web the longer they spoke. She couldn’t help the chemistry between them.
It seemed their conversation would never end… Until finally, the man asked. “Tell me, darling, did anyone accompany you to your performance tonight? Anyone who would know if you visited a gentleman’s place for a private concert? A family member, perhaps?”
“Mmm, no... but sometimes I do bring my baby sister with me.”
“Is she waiting for you at home?”
She sighed. “I’m afraid not, I came to New York alone. It is not for a very happy reason.” He waited. “My sister is sick with a cold.”
“My sincerest apologies. I do hope she returns to good health in time.”
“Me, too- hmm, wait.”
“Yes, darling?” the guest inquired.
She suddenly remembered something very important. “Oh, sugar, I do have one person expecting me.”
“Oh? And who might that be?” The man asked.
“My taxi. The driver will arrive at the parking lot in a few minutes, sugar- I do believe I should get going.”
A taxi? It was better than her sister being there, but it still meant there would be someone who would know if she weren’t where she was supposed to be.
“Say, you wouldn’t mind escorting me out to the parking lot, would you? It's mighty dangerous out there for someone like little ol’ me...” She gave the guest a pearly smile. “Don't you think, sugar?”
The guest contemplated this request, debating whether this would be any detriment at all to his plan. He squinted at the lady… No, it could still work. Just not tonight. It had to go perfectly. Perfection couldn’t be rushed, after all. “Of course, darling. Let us go at once; I heard that we have a clear sky tonight.”
Her eyes twinkled with anticipation. “Just the two of us. Out in the moonlight.”
“Yes darling. Just you and I." He escorted her out of the building, her petite hand within his.

Though it was dark out, the pastel moon irradiated the night sky with light. Cherry was mesmerized. “Wow… the moon is so gorgeous tonight… don’t you think, sugar?” Seeing her admiration, he chuckled. “I do think so... Care to sit with me?” He gestured to an ebony wood bench by the building. “Oh, I would.”
The two sat together for a while, watching the stars.

~x~

"Darling?” V suddenly turned his gaze to her.
“Yes, sugar?” Cherry hummed.
“Forgive me, but what is your name?"
"My name?” She playfully smirked. “Well as you know my stage name is Cherry Kiss, but you, sugar...” She batted her eyelashes at him and scooted just a little closer. “You can call me Jaspers."
"Your mother made a wonderful choice, Jaspers. A delightful coincidence, for that is also the name of my eldest sister." He had no sisters nor any siblings. He was an only child.
Jaspers tapped her chin with a dainty finger. “Say, what is your name," She snuck another tiny scoot closer, quirking an eyebrow. "ya handsome devil?”
A small smile formed on the man's face. "Velvet. My name is Velvet, Lady Jaspers."
"That certainly sports a fancy air- say, how is your sister anywho? I trust she is in better health than mine?"
“She is," Velvet took her small hand again, gently pulling her closer. "but you're the only woman I wish to speak of tonight, Lady Jaspers." His eyes planted themselves in hers as he spoke. "You are the only lovely lady I see out here sitting next to me.”
Jaspers bit her lip as she caught the rose scent once more. “And you are the only gentleman I see out here holding my hand...” Her other hand grasped his forearm.
“I am privileged to be. So privileged to be with a woman with a voice like yours.” He bent down to her level little by little. “Your singing Lady Jaspers, is marvelous. You, are marvelous...”
It was as if a spell was cast over her, a charm from Velvet's eyes. Jaspers couldn’t look away. She could only see him as she whispered. "You really think my singing is marvelous? You really think, I, am marvelous?" For some mysterious reason, hearing it from him made her chest flitter. That he, Velvet, found her singing marvelous.
"Yes, Jaspers. How could I, for the life of me, believe otherwise?"
Jaspers leaned in ever closer, her dark eyes shifting from his eyes to his lips, then up to his eyes, and then down to his lips. "I think you are quite marvelous myself, Velvet.” She sat up on his leg. “You know?"
“I do."
“Show me, sugar.” She whispered silkily. Her heart thumped in her breast and she puckered her lips, closing her eyes.

*HONK! HONK!*

A car horn sounded, and a man called out to the pair. “Hey! I am here for Mrs. Jaspers!”
Jaspers rolled her eyes and, with great reluctance, pulled back. "Yes, I am Mrs. Jaspers! I'll be right with you in just a minute!" She turned back to Velvet. "Well, it has been lovely chatting with you, sugar, but it is midnight and I must be going. Be seeing you again, dear Velvet..." She pecked him on the cheek.
He kissed her hand, then relinquished it. "How would tomorrow sound? Tomorrow at 7 'o'clock in the evening, Lady Jaspers, my place? I can pick you up, then when we get there- treat you to Spaghetti Alla Carbonara and Zinfandel. My family congratulates my dishes brilliantly~"
"Oh yes, sugar. I will be there. Count on it~" He took out a pen and a small piece of paper then handed it to her. She wrote down her address and handed it back.
"It will truly be my pleasure Jaspers; have a most wonderful night."
“Will do...” Jaspers replied sweetly as she entered the backseat of the taxi. “Until next time, sugar.” She blew him a kiss. The driver closed the door behind Jaspers.
“Yes. Until next time.” Velvet said back. Soon, the taxi left.

Staring out her window, Jaspers fantasized about Velvet, the way he would guide her through their passionate night together. She longed for Velvet’s arms to embrace her smaller figure. To hold her close as they kissed.
What kind of body did he have? Was he as lean as he appeared? Or was he secretly fit under those fancy clothes? What would his muscles feel like under her hands? It didn’t matter, Jaspers wanted to feel his embrace. He seemed so inviting.
Not to mention the sexy underlying fragrance of roses. It did strange, pleasant things to her senses. It gave her more than just butterflies.
She was addicted.
Jaspers bit her lip just thinking about it. Buildings flashed by the car window and hearts began to fill her vision.

~x~

Velvet pivoted on his heel and started towards his own car, a dark crimson automobile. “My my. What an interesting woman I have tempted tonight...”
Just as he unlocked and opened his car door however, he caught something in the corner of his eye and stopped. In the distance, across the street, next to the darkened doorway of a closed restaurant, he spied a dark figure. He squinted his eyes.
He couldn’t quite tell who it was but they appeared to be wearing some kind of dark cloak. Velvet squinted a little harder. The figure’s arm was outstretched, fist closed, almost as if it were holding something out to him. He concentrated on the fist. There was something in it. A long, crooked, black stem with a dark mass at the tip... Was it a flower...? In fact it almost appeared to be-
“A rose? Is that a rose?” Velvet murmured and took a few steps forward.
The phantom remained unmoving… Until a single petal fell off the flower and landed at its feet. Velvet stopped in his tracks. For some reason, the petal falling off that flower deeply unsettled him.
He considered calling out to it. “My good sir, are you los-?” He didn’t finish, for as soon as he blinked- the apparition vanished without a trace. "What on earth? A ghost?" Velvet didn’t believe in ghosts, but he knew he had seen something.
After a moment of consideration, he chuckled and shook his head. “It must have been my vision playing tricks on me. That’s all... I fear no ghosts.”
He walked back to his car and entered, remembering Jaspers. Yes, she would perform for him in the near future. Her curtain would rise for the audience. It was inevitable.
The inside was impeccably clean and possessed the same faint aroma of roses that mysteriously followed Velvet everywhere he went. The seats were cream and the walls burgundy. Velvet took a glance at his backseat. There rested a violin coupled with a jar of rosin, a rose, a mask, and the small shadow of something scarlet.