The product of listening to jazz music while reading Clockwork Angel. Also, credit goes to Valkyrie-Shapshifter, for writing J is for Jazz, making me think of Jem. I would also like to thank Team Jem Carstairs for being my awesome Beta Buddy :D Be sure to check those two out, mmkay?

Also, this is going to be a multi-chaptered fic, but I don't know when the next one will be up. I want to get a few written at a time, so I'll have breathing room. I'm going to post chapter one, though, and see what kind of feedback I get. Depending on you guys, I may or may not continue this. And don't forget to check my profile for the link to the photo-album for theis fic, yeah?

DISCLAIMER: As always, CC owns the people, I own the plot.

Updated: 5-11-11.

It was a Saturday night, in late June. The band was winding the set down, playing something smooth and slow for the few customers left in the cabaret. Charlotte had already begun to wipe down the tables and Jessie had disappeared some time ago in search of a decent cigarette. Teresa Gray sat alone at one of the back tables, tucked away into a dark corner, a half-empty glass of red wine in her hand. She swirled the glass lazily as she stared into it, mesmerized by the seductive whirlpool of the drink inside. Her mind, though, was miles away.

Instead of the tiny, dark cabaret on West Avenue, with its old, mismatched furnishings and smoky, provocative atmosphere, she saw a smooth, sculpted face, set with dark bottle-blue eyes that were framed by long lashes. His lips were full and slightly quirked upward on the right, as though he couldn't keep that infuriating smirk off his face. He was tall and lean-muscled; moved with all the grace of a dangerous predator who had found his next victim. His hair was attractively mussed, the ebony strands close to falling in his gorgeous eyes. He was beautiful. Beautiful and frightening.

And his eyes had been fixed on her all night.

She shivered, remembering the feel of his intense gaze roaming over her, like he was undressing her with a single look. For a moment, she imagined him running his hands down her body, over soft flesh. His slim hands and long fingers gripping her to pull her flush against him. She wondered how those full lips would feel against hers; if they would be soft, gentle when they moved over her skin. She wondered what he might taste like. She imagined it would be something dark, spicy. Cinnamon, maybe . . . God, this was too much. She unceremoniously gulped down the rest of her wine and left the glass on the table.

She wove through the chairs and tables, flashing coy smiles to the patrons coherent enough to leer at her. Once she was in the back hallway, she practically bolted to the dressing room. When she got to it, she threw the door open and barged inside, slamming it closed behind her. She pressed her forehead to the cool wood of the door and took a deep breath. She turned around and was unsurprised to find Jessie gawking at her, sitting next to Cynthia Fairchild, cigarette in her left hand, Jack in her right.

"Jessie, give me that bottle." Tessa rasped, reaching for it. Jessie relinquished it immediately, but still kept her wide-eyed stare on Tessa, who was knocking back a few hardy swallows. Tessa pulled the bottle away from her lips and sighed, feeling a bit better now that there was a pleasant buzz going through her. She handed the bottle back to Jessie. She moved over to the ratty loveseat by the closet and flopped down gracelessly.

"Thanks. And sorry for just bursting in here. I was going out of my head a bit." Tessa said, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back.

Cindy chuckled. "We noticed. What's eatin' ya, kiddo?"

Tessa opened her eyes to look at her friend and fellow showgirl. Cynthia Fairchild was beautiful. Short, fiery red curls framed a flawless heart-shaped face. Dark green eyes sparkled like jewels. Her skin was unblemished and a wonderfully creamy pale. She was exactly five feet tall and thin as a rail. She was soft-spoken and gentle, always having a kind word to give to others. Her temper, though, was something else. Sweet as she might be, Cynthia Fairchild would rip to pieces anyone who pushed her too far. Luckily, she was fond of Tessa.

"He's been in my mind all night long, Cindy." Tessa moaned, slightly maudlin. "He won't get out!"

Cindy blinked. "Who? Who is he?"

"We didn't catch his name," Jessie put in, a slightly dreamy look glazing over her light brown eyes. "but he's so gorgeous. Did you see him, Cindy? That blue-eyed boy sitting in the back? Oh, what I wouldn't give for a night with him. . ."

Cindy snorted. "You have enough men already, I think you can do without this one. Although, that Gabriel-he's a work of art. I wouldn't mind having some of him."

Jessie smiled suggestively. "Yes, he is one of my favorites. He's so beautiful and obedient. I've thought about keeping him. Of course, that would mean committing to him, and I'm not sure I want that."

"God forbid you should have to commit to anything, Jess." Cindy grinned, teasing her friend. Jessie smiled.

She was really quite lovely, Jessie. The lovely Jessamine Lovelace. Shoulder-length, golden curls and sweet brown eyes on an oval face, with clean ivory skin. She wasn't as tall as Tessa and she wasn't as short as Cindy. She was somewhere in the middle, just right. She wasn't rail thin, like Cindy, but she was slim, with just enough curve to her figure to be alluring. She was elegant in a slovenly way, a woman every man had trouble resisting. Of course, right now, having performed on the small stage all night, she wasn't so elegant. Her make up was faded and smudged, her hair was an untidy mess piled on top of her head, and her dress was rumpled.

"Yes, well, I'm glad you two can make jokes about this." Tessa muttered, sinking lower into the loveseat. She ran a shaky hand through her messy brown locks and sighed. "I'm going insane over here. How do I get him out?"

"If you want him out of your mind, you'll have to put him in your bed." Jessie replied, as though it were the most natural solution in the world.

Tessa disagreed. "Absolutely not. Not unless he plans to put a ring on my finger." Tessa was adamant about this sort of thing. While she herself had drawn the attention of more than a few men, she was the only one of the three who constantly refused their advances. Despite the lucrative business she was a part of, some part of her-the part who still wore pigtails and read storybooks-wanted to fall in love with someone handsome and kind and cavalier; a knight in shining armor. Jessie always told her how ridiculous that was.

She did so now. "Tessa, that's just ridiculous. All the men who come to you, you run them off and now that you've finally found one you like, you won't take him!"

"Well, sorry if I don't want to give myself away to first two-bit who asks for it." Tessa huffed, fumbling in her nearby purse for a cigarette. Succeeding, she clasped the thin stick in her hand and looked around for a light.

"Here," Cindy said, pulling out a matchbox and tossing it to her. "Don't mess up. That's our last box."

Tessa nodded, pulling out a tiny matchstick and striking it against the side of the box. After a few tries, she lit it up and put it to the end of her cigarette, making sure it caught before shaking it out. She took a long drag, held it in for about half a minute, and then released it on a contented sigh. She felt her body relax a little as her hands stopped shaking.

Jessie looked at her irritatingly. "Yeah, I know I just whore myself around, but I've only got this one life and I ain't gonna waste it looking for 'The One'. Not when I have plenty of Ones, practically lining up for me."

Tessa looked at her blonde friend incredulously. "You're so stupid, Jessie. You've already found your One."

Jessie's eyes darkened. "If you're talking about Gabriel-"

"I am."

"-Then you're wrong. Dead wrong. He is not The One. He's a toy, a good toy. Nothing more."

Tessa smiled sadly. "You're lying, Jessie, listen to yourself. You're already in love with him, and you don't even know it. You're probably afraid, and that's all right, but like you said, you've only got one life. And you're wasting it."

Jessie's face had whitened, but that quickly gave way to a flustered shade of red. "You don't know anything," she spat. "so shut the hell up." With that, she snatched up her purse and threw open the dressing room door, storming out furiously.

After a few moments of silence, Cindy spoke. "I thought we agreed not to bring that up with her."

Tessa shrugged, took another drag of her cigarette. "I'm not sorry I told her. Hopefully it'll make her think about things and do something about it."

Cindy shook her head. "All you've done is piss her off."

"Oh well. Cindy, I have always wanted to fall in love with a good, handsome man. Just once, even if he didn't love me back. Jessie practically got her man on a damn silver platter, and she's throwin' it away, treating it like trash. It's disgusting."

"It's also none of your business. Now, she might kick Gabriel to the curb altogether."

Tessa shook her head. "She won't. I know she won't."

Cindy eyed her. "How do you know?"

"She's in love with him, Cynthia. Ain't nothin' gonna make her leave him. Nothin'."

Cindy sighed and shook her head. They heard Charlotte yelling from the front of the cabaret for them to get out, it was closing time. Tessa put out her cigarette and stood to get her things. She pulled on her coat-summer nights in the Windy City were still chilly-and picked up her purse. She waited until Cindy had gotten everything and walked out, before cutting off the lights and following after her.

Tessa tossed the cabbie a five and clamored out of the backseat and onto the sidewalk in front of her apartment building. The night air was cool and the wind wasn't so harsh. It was almost pleasant, despite the homeless people loitering around and the leers of shady men following her as she went inside. She took the stairs two at a time until she reached apartment 4D. She went inside and bolted the door closed behind her. She dropped her coat and purse on the couch and made her way toward her bedroom.

The lights were on in Jessie's room, but Tessa was too tired and tipsy to deal with her. It was best to leave her alone when she was in one of her moods. Tessa closed the door behind her, immediately kicking off her shoes and stripping out of her dress. She tossed the garment aside and plucked up her nightgown from where it lay on her bed. Tugging it on, she went into her tiny bathroom. She splashed some cold water on her face to clean off the dried sweat and make-up and ran a comb through her unruly brown hair. Quickly brushing the Jack off her teeth, she spat in the sink and went back into her room. She rummaged around a little until she came up with one of her old vinyl records. It had belonged to her mother and was something she couldn't get to sleep without.

Popping it into the record player, she set it to spin and crawled into bed. She willed her aching body to relax, but found her thoughts wrapped around the mysterious blue-eyed boy from earlier that night. He was so beautiful and intriguing. She wondered if he would be back again the next night. She wondered if he might watch her as avidly as he had before. She wondered if he might speak to her, tell her his name.

As the song played, Tessa gave in and let the angel-boy consume her thoughts, finding it rather pleasant. She wondered if he was thinking of her, as she was so helplessly thinking of him. Somehow, she doubted it. Soon, much sooner than she would have thought, she had drifted off to sleep. That night, she dreamt of tangled black hair and sultry blue eyes. Blue eyes that watched her hungrily as she danced and danced and danced. . .

Blue eyes, baby's got blue eyes. When the morning comes, I'll be far away.

The song at the end is courtesy of Sir Elton John. "Blue Eyes", I thought it fitting, no? So, feedback! Good, bad? Ye, ne? Let me know!

Love to you, dear readers.

~Anna