A/N: It's short. It just sprang a few weeks ago.
She wouldn't listen. I know this about her.
I'm Roxie Hart. A nobody. I mean, who am I kidding? If she hadn't been desperate for me in her act (God, I'm a gimmick!) I'd have done auditions for a couple of years then faded. Hell, I might even have gone back to Amos.
Had an affair.
Shot the guy.
A vicious circle, that's what this is.
But I have to face it about her. Velma Kelly won't need me forever. In any sense. She's not desperate for me, at least not in the way I want.
Sometimes I glance over when we're on stage. I love it when she's wearing her pink fur, I love it even more when she drops it. I do the same. She doesn't look over though. Why would she?
I've counted them, you know. In the three months we've been on the circuit she's had seventeen guys. Seventeen. It's impressive. And I'm not surprised. God, if I wanna rip her clothes off why wouldn't some horny guy?
I have nightmares sometimes. We live in a seedy little place, the walls are like cardboard. If I screamed she'd hear me. If I screamed her name she'd know. Then the act would be over, she'd leave. I'd track down my husband.
Not the happy ending but when has anything been a happy ending around me?