I am a woman of my words. Here is the chapter until I put the story on hold in order for me to complete my other exo fic ;~; Enjoy my loves!

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The life of a showgirl was glamorous. It guaranteed money, fame and popularity; especially with the rich gentlemen’s out there with hungry prying eyes, searching for a beautiful young lady companion, there was no doubt that young girls would want to miss out on being one if given the opportunity. Sure more than half of the men were in the stage of balding and had a family of their own, but in their despicable greedy mind of male righteousness, they strongly withhold the belief that you could never really go wrong with having a mistress, especially a beautiful young one. They liked them young, pure and filled with spunk. The girls were full of energy, something their wives lacked. The world of Showgirls was taking the world by storm the moment Windy Harlem opened; welcoming a new scene of flappers, courtesans and young ladies who strived to please the male population of the affections they’ve been deprived of due to the unfortunate events of the stock crash. Due to the growing popularity of the scene, it seems as though, young girl’s who once strived for educational purposes had begun to steer a different direction in their lives. Like a clueless mice following bits of and pieces of bread to an unknown destination, this was what the paths the girls had chosen. Blinded by the vain thoughts of money and fame, they did whatever it took to get them to becoming the best show girl. 

  But of course, that was impossible. There was no way they could ever compete with the sparkling Jewel of the courtesan nation. Rose. She was a goddess that was plucked right out of heaven from the hands of God. Her beauty was exquisite and rare to find. Her small deep eyes had a luminous mystery in them that twinkled conspicuously whenever one was brave enough to look straight into them. The brief glances were never withheld for long. She had a way of making people look away, even if it was unintentional. She shined brighter than any jewel shards on earth and she left most men stunned into silence with her beauty and her eloquent footsteps. Her cold demeanor left men wanting more, but there was nothing more because she never allowed any of the men she courted to get close to her. She wouldn’t allow a simple touch, and she very rarely smiled.    You could easily pick her out in the crowd of girls; she was the only one with red hair. Her lips took the form of a heart, and they were as red as her hair. As red as a cherry, that’s what people liked to call it. For someone of her race, of her kind, to be this well known, to be this wanted, made the men growling for hunger. She was foreign, a rare treat, a delicacy in their eyes. When she spoke, her voice was fluent and soft, her accent hung in the air for awhile until it gradually faded into the foreground. However, that wasn’t what made men want her so bad. It was the way she danced, the way her moves were so flawless with every glide, and every graceful shift of her body. The way her hips bucked and twisted with absolute sharpness, the way her legs swung about in the air; long, and strong, they would say. The way her arms would move as if it had a life of its own. It was perfect. That’s what made men fall. The way she seduced them without even trying; that was the secret to winning a man’s heart, her father had told her once. She was, in other words, everything a young girl aspired to be.   Most of the other show girls were obviously envious of her spotlight. However, the envy eventually became dull for the greater knowledge and realization that it was, Rose of whom their envious of.  Being envious of Rose made no sense. She was the best show girl in the state of the nation; she was, and always will be, the sparkling Jewel that could make any man weak in the knees. So instead of envying her, the girls began to see her as something more. Someone whom they treated with deep respect. These were the girls that Rose had once trained with, the girls who danced with her in her basement, hours and hours of practice; these were girls who taught Rose American culture. Yet, after her popularity rose, these girls became distant. Quiet and whispered only amongst themselves. They hid behind Rose like shadows hiding underneath her wings. Rose could never fathom what had caused them feel this way, but she could sense that things have changed dramatically.    With her growing popularity, Big Boss became acquainted with several famous celebrities. He introduced Rose to them, set up dates for them to court, or promised his daughter to the celebrities as a courtesan. The nights never worked out well, and that usually ended up a huge mess. Rose was a fighter. She didn’t let any men touched her. Unlike most women who were seen as inferior to their husbands, Rose chose not to live that way. She wasn’t taught to live that way and she could never understand how men could treat their wives that way. Being with Kris, her outlook on relationships were widely opinionated. The men here treated women with injustice. As if these women had no feelings and they were nothing but mere objects to carry around for social gatherings and ual . It balways baffled her to see such behavior. Kris would never, ever treat her that way. Perhaps she was just one of the lucky few to have met someone like him. Whatever it was, she pitied these men and she felt sympathy for these women. Ironically however, these were the same women who pointed their fingers at her and called her dirty names for the person she was forced to be. They spoke ill of her; assuming that she was a different race, they spouted nonsense about her, thinking that she was THAT incompetent to not understand English. Times were hard.    Just because she was a showgirl, and a forced courtesan, did not make her a broad. The term flappers, she could only agree to an extent. She may tend to flaunt her disdain about many things around her, but she was not a frivolous teenager who treated in a casual manner. She was humble, though she drank and smoke from time to time due to social pressure, but it was all for her Daddy.    Every single thing she did up until they moved to Chicago, was for her Daddy.   The burden of being the top showgirl in the show business left a tremendous burden and weight on her. These were the secrets she had hid from Kris. In order to becoming the best, you had to hide a lot of secrets from the ones you love. She knew Kris had secrets stowed away as well.    For in the year of 1937, the misery, confusion and deceit were at its all time high.    ---   Kris was out on a mission that your father had given to him. He had left early in the morning and had yet to return. You couldn’t imagine what he was doing right now, but the possibility of blood being shed tonight was high. However, you weren’t afraid for Kris’s safety. No, definitely not. You were afraid for the person he was hunting for. The poor guy didn’t even get the chance to devise a thorough plan of escape before he would be killed by the Mafia.   Sometimes it made you laugh at how ridiculous your life was. The cruel fate that you were born into such a life; being born the daughter of the Boss of the mafia, being in love with his prodigy and being a show girl in such a devastating period such as this. The world truly had a cruel sense of humor.    It was getting late, and the sky had darkened completely. The stars were out in full, the moon shining high above the sky without a single cloud covering it. It was a clear night and you could hear the sounds of the crickets outside playing a faint melody. You sat by the window pane and waited for the return of your beloved with a cup of hot tea in your hands. There were no gigs tonight, and you were given a night off to rest your body. Your father wanted yo