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Friday 12 March 2021

From Glamour to Clamour by Ciara Butler.

Chicago 1935

Elodie was the most iconic pin-up girl of the '30's. Tom was Chicago's most notorious gangster.  Their union was one imbued with passion, violence and dirty money.

Elodie first rose to fame gyrating in the basements of clandestine prohibition bars. Tom rose to notoriety garnering a tenacious hold on the under-ground alcohol trade. It was only a matter of time before their paths crossed.

Elodie's timeless beauty and glamour and Tom's devilish good-looks and charisma cemented them as the Alpha-couple of the 30's. Everywhere they went gazes followed.

If only Elodie had paid heed to her friends emphatically advising her she was playing with fire, her life may not have come to such a heated tragic end.

Their intense, hugely publicised romance was short-lived. Toms penchant for fraud and the ladies eventually took its toll on Elodie. Numbing herself with copious amounts of xanex washed down with litres of gin was her only coping mechanism. 

As Toms profits were flourishing her spirit was plummeting. Paradoxically it was Toms break into the lucrative diesel trade, which also played a role in inspiring her suicide.

Elodie was back where it all started, in her dressing room at ' The Stella'. High as a kite, she recklessly doused the room with diesel. She could vaguely hear the rip-roaring applause of the punters permeating her room as she lit a match and let it fall to the ground. 

The noxious smell of burning plastics and furnishings started to fill the theatre, emptying the crowd as quick. By the time the fire-fighters arrived the theatre had burned to a crisp. Two days later Tom was discovered life-less on their bedroom floor after overdosing on her favourite potions, an ode to the trauma he caused Elodie.

Canned.

It was childish but made me feel justified. 


The hiss of air escaping from each tyre represented one per year of service. His pride and joy, a twenty-one-year-old black Ferrari Carrera, got a slide of my knife too.


He had ridiculed me personally, publicly and professionally. The zenith of the sun was at its peak as the last tyre flattened, warming my complicated rationalization.


How he had fired me brought furious internal rage. My friend Mia would understand.


“Hiya! Have you read the paper yet?” I asked.


“I did online ten minutes ago. Are you okay?” Mia replied.


“He brought me in, knowing that I was going to get canned. He’s an insidious, Machiavellian prick!”


“You always had a complicated history Jeff.”


“This is low, even for him. This was completely unforeseen, and don’t worry that irony is not lost on me.”


“Jeff – you are an amazing astrologist, and don’t you forget that you have good friends too.”


“Why are you such a good friend?”


“Because working at a barrister’s office has its benefits. He fired you in print without dismissing you, so he’s not only slandered you, but also libeled your professional status and defamed your good character.”


“I could sue him. And the paper?”


“Oh yes!”


“So, I shouldn’t have wrecked his car then?”


“We’ll call that extenuating circumstances. Pop over and we’ll discuss your future.”