Name: Adeline "Addy" Reese
Age: 30
Sex: Female
Sexuality: Many rumors abound that Miss Reese keeps the company of either sex; she does nothing to quell them. People will talk.
Relationship Status: Single
Height: 5'9"
Weight: 124
Hair: Black as midnight
Eyes: Green as an emerald
Skin Tone: Colored
Appearance: Miss Reese is something of a child of controversy least of all because of lingering sentiment from unsavory sorts. The controversy comes more from her preference towards two rather unique schools of thought. She admires the flapper style of skirted dress, short hair, and a rather long cigarette. She, however, can mostly get away with it when she's on stage and the spotlight beams down on her harder than the eyes of the audience. It's when she adorns pants, men's slacks, and the accompanying vest that it becomes a little harder to defend for those who see it as a problem.
Likes: The clink of ice as a drink is downed. The electric hum that hangs over a crowd as they await a show worth remembering. The sound of rain pattering off the roof. The first drag of the day. Stimulating conversation.
Dislikes: Crime, even of the organized sort...especially of the organized sort. The ocean, more specifically boats. Zeal of any sort, it's a remarkably bad look. Large cats, even a house cat has her rather wary.
Skills:
- Can charm the hat off of almost anyone worth charming.
- A quick wit betrays a quicker intellect.
- Regardless of how good she is or isn't, when talking fails she isn't afraid to scrap.
- Has a stash of money. Just in case.
- Can't drive a car but she can still ride a horse.
Brief History:
- Born in Louisiana and was considered a real swamp witch given the proximity to the bayou.
- Father was a gator farmer. Brother lost an arm which led to him losing a whole lot more.
- A trip to the city to sell meat and skin had Addy hearing the blues for the first time.
- Stole herself a banjo. Her daddy paid for it.
- Attended Dillard University to learn enough to get by.
- Relocated to Chicago, playing piano and banjo. Worked her way up to singing. Caught the attention of a club owner out east.
- Miss Reese's Quartet becomes something of a staple in the New York nightlife, and yet she wants.
Even without the setting sun as a backdrop it was easy to tell what time of day it was based on the amount of smoke in the little theater on the corner of 45th. The theater was a green mark location, it was safe for clientele who were liable to get a side glance from the wrong sort just for breathing the same air. Funny, that. Not even a war had colored boys fighting hand in hand, but here? So long as your money was green it didn't matter none what you looked like. Ask anybody who counts themselves a fan of the music, the ambiance, the tickling of the ivories, the toot of a horn and the sultry velvet of a voice that could launch a thousand ships to war and they'd tell you all the same. Man, woman, black, white, yellow, blue, whatever: the place to be for the real jazz blues was wherever Miss Reese was on the ticket.
Adeline Reese put out her cigarette as her band boys were working through their setup. There was Little Boy Roy the wizard on the sticks, he really put his soul into every beat on the drum and if there was ever something that got the toes tapping it was Little Boy Roy when the jazz really started to swing. Leroy Brown was a sax man who kept his nose clean and what was left of his greying hair slick; given his seniority it was no secret that his sax told stories every time he played, and even with his age the boy could still play. Leroy Brown was something of a mentor to Sean O'Dwyer, a young kid roundabout Dublin who barely had a penny to his name but boy did the kid love his music and he'd be a sax man yet. Martin Budd tickled the strings with hard fingers and a harder soul. That left just one, the self appointed mother of the new wave, of swinging jazz and sultry blues, Miss Adeline Reese. Most nights she was under the spotlight, crooning and singing songs that had music and lyrics but a lack of soul; elseways she was playing the piano along with the boys.
The gig was surely good. Miss Reese's Quartet did circuits around New York, always returning to their own little rented theater to play once the wealthier elements had their fill of uppity jazz players and the salacious starlet that stole the center spotlight. Miss Reese preferred it in the smaller location even with the rustles of the Italians and their allies harping about protection. Miss Reese could talk them down, but for how much longer even she didn't know. But her dealings with the supposed sophisticated crime racket was just another in a long line of nuisances. For as many people as liked to hear her and her boys sing and play, there were as many more that resented the fact that a colored crew got the attention - and the Irish kid Sean was lumped in the lot.
But as much as Miss Reese enjoyed the duality of fame and infamy in good measure, she was wanting for more. For something that truly moved the soul. She could sing and play and help people dance the night away, but there were only so many times old numbers remained entertaining. Miss Reese needed that spark, that inspiration to write her own pieces, to regale the audience inbetween numbers with sordid material that was just exaggerated enough to seem unbelievable but with enough reality to be unforgettable. What Miss Reese needed other than her fame...was excitement.
That was what drew her eyes that particular evening to an ad pulled from one of Roy's papers - Miss Reese was so proud of him the day he started reading something other than music. She'd read, re-read, and gone over the information over a couple of cigarettes now. If nothing else it was a way to meet the more human element of the city, the people who might otherwise just be faceless flappers or whisky sours.
"Leroy, darling, fetch me the telephone. I've a Miss Hobbs to ring..."Color Code: CC00FF
Theme Song: Nobody Knows When You're Down and Out 
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