Hello my darlings. You don’t know me yet, but you are about to! Vianna Queenie does not like staying in the shadows, unless it’s with a crystal glass of amaretto and a cigarette watching all the other dwellers in my speakeasy. See, it’s not only a speakeasy, somewhere to hide away from all those crusty authorities, but here we really can speak easy. This journal is my truth. It’s not all about me darling, not all the time anyway. I have been given the job to report on this young upstart who no one knows but for her small entourage. I take no shit from anyone, but everyone gets mine. 

With a flick of my wrist, by glass is refilled. With a puff of my cigarette, I watch the smoke rise into the hazy room. It reminds me to tell you, this young upstart… I should name her shouldn’t I. This Lily O. Laverick girl has recently finished the first and second draft of her next book. Nothing to get too excited about, however. It’s only a short story, pathetic really. Having said that, it ain’t half bad, that soldier of hers she created, Xander, is right up my alley. I’d let him take me into an alley if he swung that way. Till We Meet Again. What kind of name is that for a book? I’m sure I could have come up with better, especially after another glass and a smoke of something stronger than what I’m currently having.  

This book of hers, she plans to publish it electronically. By some sort of sorcery, she’s able to do that. At first, I wondered how in the blazes did she of all people get published, not once but twice, then I found out she self-publishes. I’ll give her her dues; it takes balls to do that. Though, all that hard work would not be for me. As long as my voice carries through a room and my body orders people to obey me, I don’t lift a finger, just a hand with a glass or a cigarette holder in it up to my lips. All the marketing she slogs away at and gets barely anything back seems exhausting, darling. And it’s not like she can pay someone to do it for her, unlike me. Poor darling is always watching her purse strings.  

I see my interest of the hour arrive down the stairs into my club, gravitating straight for me because I’m such a force of nature. They fall into the seat opposite me, and with my pointed shoed foot, I caress their calf. This one is an eager little thing. Similar to that female Lily wrote about in that short story of hers. Trouble in their eyes with a smirk hidden in their lips. Curls falling down their back and over one shoulder, small glimpses of smooth skin I’ll be marking up later.  

Turning to watch the growing crowd, with a sip of amaretto, I ponder on that author I mentioned earlier. Lily is nothing special. Still, her words have something powerful about them. They’ve managed to worm their way into my head for a start, that’s impressive. People appear to like her works, though it’s only her close friends who say so. Bet she bribed them with pleasantries to get those reviews of hers.  

The clock above the stage chimes midnight. Time to clock out for the night, leave my patrons to ruin themselves and take this pretty body home.  

Catch you all in my next journal entry darlings. 

Stay Spacial! 

~ Vianna Queenie Xx