FULL DISCLOSURE: I was a fledgling actress-dancer-model in New York City. This is one of misadventures of the Human Fairy in her early twenties in Little Italy.
“Something’s wrong with my heel!”A fledgling actress squealed, balancing on her four-inch stilettos with burgundy red ankle straps. She bravely hopped along arm-in-arm with a Broadway Producer, twenty years her senior and behind in his child support payments. He hadn’t had a win in six years and was always looking for money for his next Broadway production.
Without warning, a shower splattered them as they jay-walked the ‘Little Italy’ street. She was fading in and knew it, and he was fading out and didn’t know it. The Power Couple entered a noisy private party held at an Italian restaurant. In her tight fitting red dress bought off the rack, she glimmered glam.
Playing Sinatra’s “It’s gotta be me..It’s gotta be me”, a trio of union stiff musicians competed with the noisy crowd.
“I’m starved!” she exclaimed.
“Jill, I heard you the first time!” he glowered back.
“But, I haven’t eaten since breakfast!” she continued, unabashed.
“Sh!” he replied.
“Ugh…what’s that smell?” Jill blurted as the stench of wasted human lives assaulted her.
“Would you stop complaining? Geez, I have to work with these people,” the producer growled.
But others noticed her.
Inhaling her drop-dead beauty, their eyes spoke the universal language—lust!
The party sardines consisted of flabby-fleshed, over made up middle-age women with more hope than success at trying to look 25, mixed with self-important, balding fat men who are beyond all hope, trying to get laid before going home to their suburban wives.
On skyscraper heels, her lips stained crimson red and auburn hair tossing, Jill glided confidently on sassy hips to the bar for a drink.
“Well, hello,” wafted after her.
Jill smelled ashtray breath. She hated pick-up lines and didn’t respond.
Two swarthy gorillas in cheap polyester-blend jackets, open to reveal sidearms, pushed away from the Little Italy bar to get closer.
“So, who’s the lucky guy?” she asked the gunslingers.
The shorter ape pointed to a table near the dance floor.
“Buy you a drink?” he asked.
But, she didn’t hear him because she was staring at a mature, well-dressed Italian man in a designer suit.
To be continued tomorrow…