The northside of Chicago housed a convenience store that appeared to be unassuming to a passerby but with the right password spoken to the cashier, the door in the back of the establishment would be pulled open to reveal a set of wooden stairs that would transport you to a coloreds-only clandestine bar. The space was vivacious with Black people of all shades, shapes, and backgrounds, enjoying their night with help from the forbidden spirits that they ingested and the smooth sounds emitting from the band up on the small stage.
At the table in the center, four men were engaged in a card game. Two of the four shared the same blood and the exact same facial features. The day had been a trying one for the Smoke-Stack twins. The opening of their new casino was on the horizon and plans to make the opening a smash-hit were underway. The final important part on their list was to find a quality performer to provide entertainment. Fairly new to the city, the twins still weren’t well-acquainted with the talent that was here, and it posed a challenge. A challenge that’ll be tried at a later date. After venturing around the Windy City, checking off things on their to-do list for the opening, the twins were pleased to finally be able to unwind.
Playing cards were slapped against the wooden table. Expletives and humorous jabs were thrown about as the game progressed. The men were so engrossed in their card game that they missed the introduction of the next performer that was taking the stage.
Her voice hit his ears, rich like the bronze-colored whiskey that he had been sipping on all night. He pulled his attention away from the stack of cards in his hands to land on the owner of the captivating sound.
When you put your arms around me
I get a fever that's so hard to bear
Her honey-blonde tresses were swept into a low side-bun, a few curly pieces had managed to escape the style. The top of her head was embellished with a silver, crystal headpiece. Sequins designs covered the entirety of her red, v-neck dress that ended just above her heel-covered feet. The piece molded perfectly against her hourglass figure.
You give me fever
When you kiss me
Her lips were painted the same color as her attire, and he watched them move as she continued to sing her sensual song.
Fever when you hold me tight
Fever in the morning
Fever all through the night
“Y’all catch the name of miss lady on the stage?” He asked the other men, the accent he spoke, told of his origins. His piercing gaze never left her. The cards in his hands were long forgotten.
“Oh, that’s Betty Jones. Best blues singer we got on the northside.” One of the men responded.
I light up when you call my name
And you know I wanna treat you right
The title she had been given was well deserved, even with the short duration that he’s been able to listen and witness her perform. Stack has seen a fair share of blues singers, and no one has had him as enthralled as she did at this current moment.
His brother took some time to listen and look her over. Their matching eyes eventually met with knowing.
