3. Echoes of a Forbidden Tune

                                    

                                          
Etta Osi Walker 
Occupied Seoul 
July, 1941

Smoke swirled through the Paradise Club's sultry spotlights as the band's tempo reached a fever pitch, marking the night's later hours. I strode confidently back through the rear entrance doors, nodding casually to the bartender's knowing glance. The din of drunken laughter and glasses clinking greeted me like an old friend.
Making my way through the maze of crowded tables, I spotted Lilac and Jade, two of the club's longtime singers, gossiping closely on an upholstered lounge. I suppressed an eye roll at their florid English stage names. Lilac's heavily lined cat-eyes tracked my movement while Jade kept her gaze down, her jet black bob shielding her face. 
Lilac's pink lips pressed into a thin line, one pencil-thin brow arching ever so slightly. Her garish floral Kimono rustled as she shifted position. Beside her, Jade straightened almost imperceptibly, the line of her shoulders tensing. Her long-fingered hands, knuckles adorned with jade rings, twisted nervously in her lap.
I felt their subtle hostility like knives between my shoulder blades. Foreigners might find their painted smiles dazzling under the club's glittering lights. But I knew too well the bitter envy in their darting eyes, sizing up the newest singer to threaten their coveted spots. I inclined my chin and met Lilac's gaze directly as I passed by their lounge, my heels clicking crisply through the smoke-filled room.
Hands on cocked hips, I playfully addressed the pair. "What's this then? Some moonshine secrets too spicy for my delicate ears, ladies?" I punctuated the tease with a dramatic wink.
Lilac and Jade exchanged a loaded glance. Lilac's dark eyes narrowed while Jade bit her painted lower lip. Lilac turned to me again, exhaling a long stream of pungent cigarette smoke. Her bejeweled hand gestured airily. "We were just discussing that man you seemed rather...familiar with outside." 
I detected a pinched note lurking behind Lilac's syrupy tone. Fumiko was her real name, the disgraced daughter of a Japanese dignitary now dancing under strobe lights rather than morning sun. Despite her temperamental nature, I acknowledged her vocal talents.
My gaze turned toward Jade. Her downturned eyes and wringing hands signified my rising solo performances were making some senior dancers feel neglected.
I let out an amused laugh, trying to keep my tone playful. "Jealous, Fumiko dear? I can't help attracting refined gentlemen with my continental looks." I stated dramatically, sinking onto the lounge beside her. 
She let out a scoff as I patted her hand teasingly. Her lined eyes flashed at my use of her birth name. I held up my hands in mock surrender. "Jokes, sorry!" I smiled to soften the jab.
Schooling my features, I waved one perfectly manicured hand in casual dismissal. "You know these officers love spinning dreams of Broadway to us starry-eyed performers. Mr. Park is simply expanding his club ventures." I softened the verbal needle with a wink. "Surely it's wise to simply hear the man out?"
Fumiko sniffed, mollified. Her pretty features darkening subtly at the name drop. She paused her a moment, trying to reestablish her position and shook her head. 
 "Perhaps. But take care, Etta - you may trust too freely." She lowered her voice. "He's suppose to be engaged to an heiress." Her expression hovered between warning and envy. 
I nodded seriously, before tapping her shoulder playfully. "I don't trust easily, you know that. But in trying times, we must at least listen." I stood, straightening my dress. 
Jade's shoulders relaxed a fraction while Lilac took a long drag of her cigarette, scarlet lips pursed around the smoldering end. Her glance towards Jade held a silent exchange before she replied, smoke coiling upwards.