Chapter Text
— It’s simple, really.
Dice told himself in the mirror. As time passed, his words felt like a lie.
— It's simple. Really.
He repeated, begging for stableness, for a sense of control. He looked around. The dressing room was full of the greatest, most extravagant things. Such a peculiar sense of style, he thought. But Dice was afraid to touch, to even look at it.
He remembered the words The Dev— The boss told him. “Do not disappoint me” or something along these lines. Dice couldn't care less, he was too busy combing his hair to make it neat, or at least, trying to make it neat. It's not like he gave a damn about his boss's words. If he ever got the gig, he would simply sing, take the cash, and leave. It's not like his boss would steal his soul for missing an octave, it's too petty.
He checked his brand new suit, it was cheap, sure, but it worked.
— Purple looks good on me.
He laughed, with a pang of nervousness. He remembered the boss telling him to wear a nice suit for the show, because it was gonna be special this time. “Special”? Dice began to think.
— Was it because of me?
Dice joked, feigning flattery. He laughs out loud, trying to ease his beating heart, and sweating hands under the gloves. He never did serious work. But then, his boss, undercover, saw him play the organ and sing at a random bar, something about… New Orleans? Right. And then, he said—
— Psst. And then, he gives me a random flyer, and then, I'm singing at the city's most famous casino. Good lord, that's my lucky day! Oops. He's The Devil ™ , right? He might put me in those dark, fiery chambers if I keep calling out his biggest nemesis's name right here. Sheesh, why did I get here again?
— Dice! It's your part!
Oh, God— I mean, oh, bloody hell, it's his turn. He got up from the chair, adjusting his hair and cleaning up invisible dust. As he took a step closer to the entrance of the stage, he knew he couldn't do it alone. He needed someone. Something. Anything.
— He doesn't mind if I smoke in here, right?
He quickly pulled out a cigar from his pocket and a lighter. As he smoked, he felt an ease in his mind. Okay, maybe he could do this at all.
— C'mon, what are you waiting for?
— Bloody hell!
He threw the cigar on the floor, stepping on it. Dice finally got on the stage, as he was greeted with applause and a sharp look from the Devil himself. The band already started playing. Oh, yeah, the song, it's alright, he knew it by heart. He took a deep breath, and—
— Folks, I'm going down to St. James Infirmary…
He held on to the microphone.
— See my baby there,
And slowly tapped his feet.
— She's stretched out on a long white table, so sweet, so cold, so fair~
…
Oh my god, he was supposed to be singing! He memorized it over and over, even upside down! Right. Jazz. He can mess up with the tempo a little.
— Let her go, let her go, god bless her, oh!
Applause. Maybe this broken tempo thing is working after all. He began to experiment, and experiment, and experiment.
— Wherever she may be. She can search this whole wide world over.
He looked at The Devil.
— But she'll never find another sweet man like me.
He winked.
He looked down, and muttered to himself.
— Why did I do that?
He looked at the audience.
— Ahem! When i die, bury me in my straight-leg britches, Put on a box-back coat…
He fixed his suit.
— …And a stetson hat!
He mimics a hat.
— Put a twenty-dollar gold piece on my watch chain, so you can let all the boys know I died standing pat!
In a sudden moment, the audience started clapping to the rhythm. Dice began to laugh, and tapped his feet along. Then, he moved his body, following his own logic, his own swing. He left the stage, and wandered around the casino. The crowd was following him with their eyes. The Devil raised an eyebrow.
— Then give me six crap-shooting pallbearers…
He went to a table, stealing the dice from a random gambler and rolling it.
— Ha! Snake Eyes!
He grinned. He discovered a fondness for… Messing around.
— Let a chorus girl sing me a song…
He paced around the casino.
— Put a red-hot jazz band at the top of my head, so we can raise hallelujah as we go along.
— Folks, now that you have heard my story…
He gestured to a bartender.
— Say, man, hand me over another shot of that booze!
He took the small shot, and climbed to the stage again.
— And if anyone should ask you, you tell'em I've got them St. James Infirmary blues!
Applause, whistles, a rose, even? Dice looked at The Devil, who looked back at him, and hit him with the most alluring smile you've ever seen.