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Bright Young Thing ::: {Prince of Smut & Ariamella}

C

Chai

Guest
Chicago, Illinois
September, 1927​
A young woman sat nude in front an ornate vanity, lazily finger-combing through freshly released pin curls while examining the reflection staring back at her. Rich, mahogany hair that usually fell to mid back now sat just below her shoulders, and a face full of makeup accentuated her wide eyes and angular face, particularly her high cheek and brow bones. Blue-gray eyes stood out against the dark liner on her lids, the rouge on her cheeks and the red stain on her lips, and she wondered to herself why most people frowned upon the use of makeup. It made people beautiful... It made her beautiful and so much more. It made her feel sexy. A delicious sense of satisfaction washed through her at the use of such a risque term- a word that was usually reserved for use at the prostitution clubs in the city- and it only intensified her excitement for what was to come later that night.

Standing abruptly, she walked over to a four poster bed that dominated the far end of her room and picked up a dress that had been laying there, holding it up to her naked form before slipping on undergarments and a brassiere, finally followed by the green beaded fabric. It showed off a lower cut neckline while keeping true to the “flapper” style that had become all the rage in America over the past few years. After rolling sheer dark stockings up her legs and securing them with garters, she did one last mirror check before donning a beaded lace headpiece and black kitten heels. The last item she grabbed was a fur-trim coat to shield herself against the chill of the September air, then she softly opened the door to sneak downstairs.

The house was quiet as usual, and the girl sighed, not sure whether to be thankful or worried that her father was so easily deceived. Like all the other nights she asked to go out with her friends, it was always the same conversation:

“Now Scarlett, who are you going with?

”Just Penelope as always, dad.”

“And where are you going?”

She would always shrug. “Just to the jazz club near the federal building.”

“Well you be careful, sweetheart.”

“Yes, father.”

And with that, her father retired to his quarters, dealing with office work or whatever it was that kept him busy at night. It was always some variation of those exchange of words, though in her earlier years her father requested that she had a chaperone… and she definitely didn’t miss that. Then again, in the earlier years of her socialite career, she actually was at the jazz club and not gallivanting around in gambling dens drinking to her heart’s content. In any case, he wasn’t the best at keeping track of his daughter as he was a very busy man with a busy schedule.

Shaking her head, she unlocked the back door that was the usually meant as an entrance and exit for the maids and butlers of the house, slipping out and taking care not to slam it as it closed shut. That particular door led out to the back and ultimately to a small garden pathway that connected the Westin House to the Hayes House, where Penelope’s chauffeur waited to take them to the more dangerous clubs of the city- the ones that housed gambling and alcohol, the very same that sent a thrill of excitement through the girls each time they ventured out into the night. It was impossible to pinpoint when they had started their dangerous escapades, but they continued it for two reasons: the first being that it was simply addicting, like being drunk off the additional freedom of pretending to be lower class women for just a night, and the second being that they were absolutely sure they weren’t going to get caught, all thanks to Scarlett. And tonight with Scarlett's luck and Penelope's money, they planned to get into one of the more elite dens of the city. The chauffeur brought them to the north side of the city and stopped in front of a strip of high-class shops, waiting until the last girl stepped out before accepting a wad of cash from Penelope. His hungry eyes took in the bills as his grubby fingers plucked them out of her grasp, and his smoky voice answered, “I’ll be waiting here for your return, Miss Hayes.”

It was a cloudless night, lit by a combination of streetlights and moonlight, and the streets were alive with the hustle and bustle of the sounds of Chicago- boisterous chatter, the rumble of vehicle engines, and lively tones of jazz that drifted up the street from open doors. Although it was already quarter-till nine, it wasn’t unusual to see socialites around town doing what they did best, and the girls were no exception. They nodded to the people they knew as they walked the strip, finally stopping near an intersection that boasted the acclaimed Bayview Inn. To the left of the ritzy hotel was their area of interest: a thin alleyway.

“This way,” Scarlett murmured, leading the way into the darkness and stale air of the passage. Seated near a shabby-looking door at the midpoint of the alley, leaning on the wall of the Bayview, was a man dressed in wrinkled slacks, jacket and newsboy cap. He eyed the women suspiciously as they approached and even without her ability, Scarlett could sense that they had a slim chance of winning his favor to let them in. She flashed a couple bills from her coat pocket and smiled, immediately feeling the change from a forty to an eighty percent chance.

“Room 18, please,” she said firmly, proffering the money in obvious gesture.

A wheezy voice floated up from the man’s position on the ground as he eyed the brunette up and down before accepting the cash. “Behind the tapestry.”

He opened the door and pointed inside. Scarlett nodded and both women followed his direction, descending a set of stairs that led to a small room with only a large plush chair, a small table and a floor-length tapestry as decor. And in the silence of their isolation, the faint sound of instruments and voices could be heard.

“Apparently they change the number of the room every night, and if you don’t say the right one, you don’t get access. How do find these things out?” Penelope asked in a hushed tone, a hint of wonder lingering in her voice.

“How do you get away with throwing so much of your father’s money away?” the other girl answered, stepping forward while simultaneously looking back to grin at her friend. “Go ahead, Penny, do the honors.” Penelope gave a bright, toothy smile, too excited to object the use of the horrid nickname, and shuffled with the tapestry for a few seconds before finding the brass handle of the speakeasy entrance.

They pushed it open and were greeted by the gentle plucking of a string bass, a mid-tempo saxophone melody and dissonant piano chords that resolved into a jazzy sequence. The place was moderately sized for a den and was certainly more visually pleasing than some of the other places they had been, and Scarlett relished the odd-but-familiar sensation of excitement mixing with relaxation. The small distance between herself and the bar was more than enough incentive to order her first drink of the night, and she did so without delay, asking the man for a Planter’s Punch then sliding money his way. It was an expensive habit, but the all worth it once the cocktail hit her lips and the alcohol burned its way down her throat, making her feel warm all over. She sipped her drink contently and sauntered over to Penelope, who was already seated at the roulette table. The night was young, the drink was fresh, and Scarlett had no regrets for enjoying something that was labeled as very, very bad.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=150x112]http://i1285.photobucket.com/albums/a582/paramoremcr88/20810ce9f4bf1b5238f2989b055ecda5_zpsda706485.jpg[/img]

Lucca Carbone

"Lefty!"

Lucca Carbone was adjusting his tie in the mirror and scowled at both the interruption and the use of his nickname. It was starting to bother him, reminding him too much of his days as just another penniless Italian kid growing up in Chicago's South Side. There hadn't been too many other left handers in his neighborhood and he had been very good at stickball, so the name "Lefty" had easily stuck. For many years he had embraced being Lefty, that scrappy kid who was a little different but very good at what he did, but now...

Lucca glanced at himself one more time in the mirror. Black hair and brown eyes were paired with classic Italian features, a strong jaw and a nose that perhaps was a touch too big. He knew he was very handsome despite that nose, at least based on how the dolls clung to his arms at any chance. He was no longer a skinny kid, but had grown into a brawny man; almost thirty and still fit like a youth. He hadn't given in to the pasta, wine and cannolis that were turning his peers into paunchy middle aged men as soon as they hit thirty. No, Lucca was still a dangerous man, in his prime and with his fortune still rising.

A quick check of his clothes was reminder enough that Lucca had amassed quite a bit of fortune already. The three piece, chalk striped dark suit he wore tonight cost $100. His polished leather shoes and spats were $30. And on the other end of his body, his dark, flat brimmed hat with a white ribbon accent was a $20 custom piece made of the highest quality felt. Clothes like this would have cost his single mother her entire annual income as a seamstress when Lucca was a kid. Now he could afford a dozen outfits just like this one.

Lucca had certainly come a long way from being "Lefty" from the neighborhood. Perhaps it was time to erase that nickname and make sure everyone recognized him for who he was, one of Al Capone's most trusted and feared capos. A man so valued that he managed Capone's violent and contentious Northern neighborhood, the spearhead of Capone's expansion to the North Side. Lucca was young and the older capos resented his success. He suspected they liked calling him Lefty to remind him that he was in their eyes still a kid. No one dared call Capone by his old nicknames after all, not even his closest friends. It was something to think about.

"Mr. Carbone," he snapped back without bothering to look. Only one of his crew could have gotten past the guards at the door to the private wash room he had been dressing inside. "And knock next time or I'll cut your ear off."

A startled, confused silence came and then a sputtering, fearful apology.

"I'm truly sorry Lefty.. I didn't mean to be rude... I mean Mr. Carbone, sorry Mr. Carbone... S-sorry! Skinny sent me in here all urgent," said the man. Lucca turned and gave him a sour look. It was Frank, or Frankie, really a boy still and new to the crew. A good person to start retraining to respect him correctly. Frankie was fidgeting, hat being crushed nervously in his hands as he stared at the floor. "Yes sir, Skinny said to tell you that he's seen her. Some doll he said he told you about last week... she's at the roulette table!"

Lucca waved Frankie out and frowned. Skinny had mentioned a good looking broad that had frequent and suspicious runs of luck at games like roulette and craps where she couldn't count cards. Even more suspicious, he'd mentioned that she'd ducked out before a raid at two other gambling dens. Lucca knew that anyone could get lucky, but the tidbit on her leaving before raids was why he had asked Skinny to flag her if he ever saw her again. The new federal task force that moved into town last year, the "gangbusters" had been hitting hard and causing his profit margin to go down. They'd managed to pick out a crew of cops that weren't corrupt and every gangster in Chicago had been trying to figure out who their informants were and whether they had any moles. This dame was definitely worth a conversation, not that Lefty ever minded chatting with pretty dolls.

Placing his hat on his head, Lucca opened the door and smiled as he entered the smoky, noisy din of the gambling room. The music was nice, a high class jazz band playing in the corner as always, but what he really enjoyed hearing was the noise of the crowd. The low rumble of conversation punctuated by shouts of joy, or exasperation, from the gamblers, roars from the craps table, the clink of glasses as the patrons drank, and the hum of energy from a hundred people buzzing with pleasure and escapism.

The sweet sounds of Lefty making money.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

Scarlett watched on with a slight smile turning up her lips while the dealer took bets from the six patrons at the table. Penelope sat in front of her, fingers toying with the white chips that were neatly stacked in four even piles, and she gently pushed forward one stack to make a corner bet on 22, 23, 25 and 26, doing as her best friend instructed. For a game of pure luck, it seemed the girls were a little too blessed at this guessing game, and by the looks on the other players’ faces, it was obvious they thought the same.

“No straight bet this time?” a large, mustached man asked in his distinguishable southern accent. “Afraid you’re going to lose your winning streak, hm?”

“Upset that you haven’t won a single round, are you?” Penelope shot back something of a fiery taunt, a hand moving up to tuck one side of her long blonde bob behind her ear.

Scarlett only smirked and looked up at the man through her thick lashes, knowing full well that he was bothered with the turnout of the game, especially after he spent a good five minutes at the start spouting some nonsense about how women really weren’t fit to gamble. She examined the numbers on the table, unable to decide which number held the most winning potential. Oh, she could sense it was one of the four numbers, but each had an almost equal chance so her only solution was to make the corner bet and leave it as it was. Of course, there was a short time once the wheel and ball were spun in which she could tell Penelope to change her bet, but she would rather win something than lose the bet entirely. After all, with Penelope’s mouth and her arrogance, it would be a devastating blow for them to lose.

Both women watched as the dealer spun the wheel and tossed the ball in the opposite direction, and then Scarlett felt it: an 83% chance on 23. She didn’t hesitate to whisper the information to Penelope, who pushed her stack of chips a smidgen to the northeast just before the dealer called off all further bets. A tense moment of silence hung around the table, and each player looked around at the others before a majority of the looks of scrutiny ended on Penelope, whose own eyes were fixed on the small white orb that spun around and around.. Scarlett’s heart raced as the ball lost momentum, and the smile on her face grew to a wide grin when it bounced around the wheel before finally settling on… 23.

The dealer marked the spot with a small glass, eyes narrowing at the two women while he raked the losing bets off the green velvet and dealt out the winners’ chips. Across from Penelope, the beefy man’s knuckles gripped the edge of the wood so fierce that his knuckles turned white- a stark contrast against his enraged, reddened face. Smug contempt was written all over the blonde’s face as she turned to him and said, “Well, it seems that you’re the only one here who’s unfit to gamble. Better luck next time! Or you could get a better good luck charm, one like Scarlett here.”

The words set him off like a rocket and he noisily stood from the roulette table, storming off without another word, leaving a distraught-looking young woman scampering after him. A round of nervous snickers came from players and bystanders alike, only silenced when the dealer used two fingers in a beckoning motion with his eyes locked on the winning women. Scarlett exchanged a nervous glance with her friend as they walked forward, suspicious but also curious.

“Not you,” the dealer said pointedly at Penelope. “Only her.” He jabbed a finger at Scarlett then promptly turned, making another beckoning motion for her to follow.

Giving a reassuring glance to Penelope, Scarlett followed him, drink in hand while she analyzed her options. There was a slight chance of danger, but it was no higher than what it normally was, and that was almost a comforting thought. At least there was no probability that spelled out her death. The man didn’t stop until he reached a curtained entryway, holding open the thick, velvet drapes for both of them to step through. Alone now, he leaned against the wall, arms crossed against his chest.

“Miss, I’ll have you know that cheating and trickery isn’t allowed here and if that’s what you’re playing at, we’ll have you leave. ” His eyes flicked over her as if studying her face for guilt, but she kept her cool demeanor.

“I can assure you that it’s nothing of that sort,” Scarlett answered, taking a sip of the liqour in her glass before continuing. A twinkle lit up her own eyes, portraying amusement but also the innocence of truth. “Fortune just happens to smile down upon some people more than others.”

“I take it you’re talking about yourself then? You’re trying to tell me you’re some kind of luck incarnate? ” He scoffed at her, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Yes, something exactly like that,” she answered back hotly this time.

“And what of the other times? Not just tonight, but one week back I saw you and blondie win almost every time you played craps.”

“What of them? It happened exactly how it did tonight, and that was through fair play. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my leave. My dear friend has waited long enough, wouldn't you say?” Scarlett stepped to the side, but the man shot out an arm in front of the curtain preventing her from exiting.

“No,” he shook his head, “I’m going to need you to wait here. And I mean it. Don’t move.” His voice hardened at the words, and a dangerous glint sparked in his eyes before he gave a nod and disappeared behind the curtains, leaving her to wonder what a simple roulette dealer would want with a woman like her.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=150x112]http://i1285.photobucket.com/albums/a582/paramoremcr88/20810ce9f4bf1b5238f2989b055ecda5_zpsda706485.jpg[/img]

Lucca Carbone


Skinny was waiting for Lucca by the bar. In the typical Italian mafia sense of humor, Skinny was a very large, borderline obese, man that was twenty years older than Lucca. A neighborhood captain in a local gang absorbed by Capone years ago, Lucca had recruited him earlier to be one of his crew leaders. Skinny was loyal, which was the most important trait Lucca looked for in his men, and also very reliable. His only flaw was that he was a worrier, almost obsessive at times and it gave him stress related stomach pains that were only made worse by his healthy appetite. Well, someone had to worry and Lefty liked to think of Skinny as bearing all his concerns for him so he didn't have to.

"Lefty, the doll's in the private poker room that's empty right now," Skinny said as Lucca walked up. He looked worried, as always, and gave Lucca a shake of his head in concern. "I gotta bad feeling boss, this girl's been nothing but bad luck for us. She's cleaned us out twice right before raids hit and I think third time is not going to be a charm."

"Easy Skinny, let me talk to the broad first. I've never heard of an informant double dipping and trying to cheat as well as bust a speakeasy, so maybe she is just lucky," replied Lefty, giving the portly man a pat on the shoulder. "But, tell the men to get too more lookouts outside on the street with a wire to buzz the club if they see anything. Oh, and tell the bartender to bring another of whatever she's drinking and a soda water for me."

Lefty adjusted his tie one last time as he walked towards the velvet curtain on the far side of the club. The band had just started up a new tune, one that Lefty liked. It was upbeat, swinging and had a great melody. What was it called? Oh right, "Ain't she sweet." Lefty took that as a good omen as he nodded at the man guarding the curtain and passed through it.

The heavy velvet muffled the din of the main room and Lefty's eyes took a second to adjust to the dimly lit side room. He had his best, rakish grin on his face already, hand reaching up to doff his hat in respect for the lady. That smile was Lefty's best weapon with dames and could have a devastating effect on girls, or so he thought. She turned at his entrance and his smile froze on his lips for half a second as his eyes widened. "Good looking doll" was how Skinny had described her and for once he realized that his captain's penchant for underselling everything was very accurate! If Skinny thought this broad was good looking, Lefty would like to see the dame he called a real looker!

"Ahem..." Lefty said, eyebrows furrowing as a throat clear came out first instead of his greeting. Had he really been unable to speak for a second? It was very unlike him to lose any of his swagger, even with a pretty doll like this one. But, she was quite a looker, and a lot more high class than his normal broads. Very high class in fact, he wondered as he took a closer look.

His men might not have his discerning eye, but Lefty thought of himself as a connoisseur of women the way other guys might obsess with wine, whiskey or baseball. He knew all the types that came into his clubs, most working girls or middle class broads looking for fun, and this girl was in a class by herself. Sure she had on a short, scandalous dress that was a common fashion these days, but Lefty could tell the quality of material was a cut better than most of the women in the club. And everything from her jewelry to her shoes shouted expensive or tasteful to his expert eye. Only her makeup might be a bit thick, like a costume applied to look older for going out. She was definitely young, probably a bit wild to be in this club, and very rich. That last part was for sure. No doubt a member of the high society that was the only part of Chicago that Lefty's mafia money couldn't buy access.

So what was a high class doll like this doing slumming at his club, as nice as it was?

"Sorry doll, I meant to say welcome to my club. My name is Lucca," said Lefty with a half-bow. He pulled a chair across from the mysterious girl and sat down leisurely, radiating confidence and keeping an easy smile on his face as he studied her. Those blue-grey eyes were striking, particularly in contrast with her dark red hair, and he found himself captivated already. For a young girl that had been pulled into a back room at an illegal casino run by notoriously violent gangsters, she seemed remarkably at ease, even nonchalent. Perhaps she was from such a high class family that she thought she would always be safe; Daddy would look out for her or something. Not a smart assumption when dealing with criminals that didn't respect the law!

A waiter appeared with a Planter's Punch and Lefty's soda water, which he took with a dismissive wave.

"And you are?" Lucca asked as he placed the girl's drink on the table by her chair. "Thanks for agreeing to have a drink with me. The fellas tell me you've had a real hot streak tonight. And maybe a couple times before that."
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

Scarlett sat near the back of the room, admiring a painting that hung tastefully on the far wall before standing to get a closer look. Just by looking at the expert brushstrokes it was obvious that it had cost something of a small fortune, and even she had the refinement of appreciating great art. Beautiful yellow, orange and pink hues softly tinged the sunset sky within the frame, and some sort of large, pale-brown brick building stood as the only erect form of civilization against the rolling hills of agricultural greenery. In the background, a silhouette of a mountainous landscape was painted softly in the distance, and the whole scene struck her as some sort of dream land out of Europe. She raised her hand to touch the oil painting and- and a sudden uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, the very same feeling that appeared whenever something was wrong.... Her hand dropped to her side as she turned around, the frills and beads on her dress swishing this way and that at the sudden movement.

"Ahem.." The interruption caught her off guard, abruptly breaking the silence but not in a rough, unwanted way.

Oh my. She had been expecting some thuggish, greasy man to come forth and demand answers as to why she and Penelope had been evading the house edge on all the games they had played, but the man who spoke was neither thuggish or greasy. In fact, he appeared to be of high status himself, as his well-tailored suit and leather shoes did not go unnoticed by the cool blue eyes that had been trained at a young age to look for class in the way men dressed. As her eyes roamed up to look his face, they were matched with such intensity that she had to look away for a moment, and she immediately recognized the sinking feeling in her abdomen. He was tall, dark and handsome with classic good looks, and from past experience Scarlett knew this probably meant trouble... trouble with an easy face and impeccable fashion.

What really held her attention though was the strong, clean-shaven jaw that supported the man's charming, effortless smile. It matched the rest of his chiseled features, boyish as they were, and she found herself starting to smile back. Even as he gestured for them to sit down, he never once lost the air of confidence that surrounded him; he was obviously an important man and was perfectly okay with making that known. She stayed silent during his introduction, only noting that this juice joint was his club, and that his first name was instantly recognizable as Italian. Her eyes flicked over to the painting on the wall before locking with his brown eyes again, this time holding the gaze even after the waiter's mild interruption.

"I don't exactly recall agreeing to have a drink with you," she mentioned with slight amusement but accepted the proffered drink anyway, replacing its spot on the table with her empty glass. She shrugged in an uninterested way before continuing, "Penny and I just seem to have a stroke of good luck at those kinds of activities. I mean, it's really more of her hobby than mine, but I don't mind offering my assistance when I can." Scarlett withheld the exchange of her name by falling into an almost uncomfortable silence while she pondered on what name to give. It had to be something common enough that it could easily be mixed in with a mass of other female names but unique enough that she could remember it...

"My name is Ruby," she finally said, thinking herself clever for choosing one that was similar to her own in terms of color. "This is quite the club you have running here. It certainly is the bee's knees... Anyway, as I told the gentleman who took the time out of his evening to keep me here in the most ungentlemanly way possible, Lady Luck is just kinder to some of us than others. Perhaps she just decided not to smile upon your club tonight. And that is a shame indeed..." Scarlett looked away now, a flash of regret washing over her face for just a moment as she rethought her words, silently kicking herself over her cheeky tongue. Oh well, there was nothing to be done that could reverse it.

"May I ask why you take interest in me? Sure I've had more than a couple runs of good fortune but-" a pause ensued while she frowned; the stirring feeling in her stomach shot up in intensity, and she was immediately aware that something else was wrong, though she couldn't pin exactly what it was. "... But I don't think it's terribly unusual, don't you think?"
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=150x112]http://i1285.photobucket.com/albums/a582/paramoremcr88/20810ce9f4bf1b5238f2989b055ecda5_zpsda706485.jpg[/img]

Lucca Carbone


"My invitation didn't make it to you? It was printed on thick paper and everything..." Lefty replied to the girl's quip about not remembering an invitation. He looked troubled for a second and then shook his head reassuringly and smiled. "I'm just kidding. But my apologies, the fellas that work here can be a little uncouth. They don't know their way around ladies. I heard about your run of luck and told them to ask you if I could have a chat over a drink. I think they treated you like they might treat a guy they caught cheating, not a lady I wanted to say hello to."

Lefty kept his smile even as the girl startled ramble on about her friend and their apparent run of luck before circling back to even remember to give him her name. Ruby. A precious stone indeed. Well, she was very lucky she was a pretty doll as he would have no patience with a man in her shoes. Lefty's main business was judging people: who to trust, who not to trust, what motivated them, and who was lying. The last was the most important skill a gangster could develop. And right now, his intuition said she was lying, or at least not telling him everything.

Whatever courage she had summoned to casually try to bullshit a gangster in his den seemed to evaporate a bit at the end of her speech, when Ruby asked Lefty why he had taken an interest in her and then abruptly stopped talking. A frown appeared on her pretty face and she looked suddenly suddenly ill at ease. Lefty hadn't even used his tough guy act yet!

Well, might as well have some fun.

"I saw you looking at the painting," Lefty said instead of answering her question. He stood up and walked to the wall to study it himself. "It's by a famous Sicilian landscape artist of a special region called Mont Iblei, known for its olives. My family was from Mont Iblei and they were olive farmers for generations. These olives are so sweet and tender you could squeeze them with your hand and get oil in your mouth that tasted like honey. Nothing like what you buy here."

He turned and paced back towards Ruby, eying her with a casual smile.

"My Uncle Sal was the last in our family to grow olives. He hung on, but there were big companies buying the small plots and doing things cheaper. Now Sal had a beautiful plot with some amazing old trees. Stunning views of the mountains. The big guys made him offers, many times and he always said no. He was an olive farmer, what was he going to do with money?"

Sitting down, he leaned forward to stare in her eyes, smile fading slowly.

"Then, one day, he's walking home from Church and he gets run over by a car. Never found the driver. Everyone says what terrible luck that was. Awful for Sal. A big company buys his plot at auction the next month and now my family is done with olives after ten generations. Makes me wonder, that story, about whether I believe in luck, 'cuz every time I hear about someone getting lucky, or unlucky, someone else seems to benefit. I think people make their own luck... like a guy from a big olive company driving his car down the road and seeing Sal a little drunk walking by himself at night. Now that guy, he made his own luck."

He paused and then gave her a big smile again, leaning back and tapping his hat on the table.

"But Ruby, what I really want to know is... how did you know the police were going to raid my clubs?"
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

Whatever color was left on Scarlett's face had drained away at Lucca's story of his Uncle Sal, and she couldn't help but wonder what kind of man he really was... she felt trapped by his mere presence, the force of it reminding her of the quiet before a storm: calm and commanding, preceding something that was exciting as it was dangerous. A titter escaped her lips as a rush of nervousness shook its way down her spine, causing her form to sit up straight, becoming visibly rigid at his last question. It gave her the impression that he had been watching her for some time, and maybe he had, but the message behind the question was clear: I know who you are, and I have been keeping track of you.

"It's interesting," she started, reverting back to her normal state, "how a butterfly comes to drink the sweet nectar of flower but finds itself entangled in a spider's web instead." As always, her words got philosophical in nature when dealing with an uncomfortable situation. It was a defense mechanism really, more to ensure that nothing foul spilled out of that pretty mouth of hers. Although she belonged to Chicago high society, her time slumming in speakeasies had taught her more valuable things in life like how to spot potentially dangerous situations and knowing when to shut up. And right this moment, those two skills were now proving their worth.

How did she know the police were going to raid his clubs? It was a question she couldn't give a straight answer to, and even if she did, who was to say he'd actually believe her? Only Penelope did, but even she was skeptical for the first few weeks until Scarlett had taken her gambling and given her all the right moves to win. There was no formula for luck, it wasn't definite, and like time it was a fluid thing that changed with the decisions of the people around her.

She had a feeling that Lucca wouldn't settle for anything but the truth, but she wouldn't be telling him... not really. Showing him was the simplest way without having to explicitly state the innate ability she had since birth, and while it was still a cop out in answering the question, it would hopefully satisfy his curiosity with her. Then she would be in the clear, free to leave, and she would probably never come back.

Spotting two dice resting in a small decorative porcelain tray on the table in front of her, she grasped both and held them up for Lucca to see. "I'm truly sorry about your Uncle Sal." It was true; no one should have to die because of someone else's greed, but sadly it happened all too often in the world. She looked down, the next words becoming more of a rambling to herself. "How lucky for you, though. If that hadn't happened, you would be far away in Sicily, this place wouldn't exist, and you would be the successor to a long line of olive farmers. But here you are, the owner of multiple successful underground clubs, sitting in front me as we have a conversation about the nature of luck."

Her head gently rolled up, and she directed her gaze to meet his lazy smile, her eyes swimming with knowledge that she fought to keep private. "Although it's peculiar how you mentioned people making their own luck, as if it was a substance to bend at will. Wouldn't that be fantastic? To constantly know exactly what the odds are, every single time?"

She toyed with the dice, her left cheek exposing a dimple as the red lips below turned up in a smile to match the man who sat across her. She felt the smooth faces of the small cube and let her fingers glide gently over the even smaller black dips that made up the numerical symbols on each side, then she finally opened her mouth again to speak. "You're a smart man. Each side of one die has a one-in-six chance of landing right side up. There's no way to tell which side will be facing up once it's rolled... or is there?" The girl paused for a couple of seconds, a thoughtful look resting upon her features. "To know that once I throw this little thing, there's a chance of it landing on two or six, but also knowing that it will most likely land on one..."

The redhead fell silent, juggling the one of the cubes in her hand before tossing it lightly onto the table. The thoughtfulness on her face turned to satisfaction as the die made its final movement, stopping with one black dot facing upwards.

"Each outcome will be different, but the trick is to understand the odds right before the event happens and pray that the path you chose was right. This second one?" She held up the last die. "I can only hope that it lands on four."

Again she tumbled the die, remaining silent as it came to a stop beside its brother, this time with four dots displayed on its upper surface.

Scarlett leaned back and crossed her legs, temporarily forgetting about the disturbance she felt earlier, and a familiar sparkle of smug arrogance reached her eyes. "Does that answer your question?"
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=150x112]http://i1285.photobucket.com/albums/a582/paramoremcr88/20810ce9f4bf1b5238f2989b055ecda5_zpsda706485.jpg[/img]

Lucca Carbone


Lefty loved using stories to deliver a message. It was almost an Italian cultural tradition, beyond just the mafia. Stories let him make his point without a direct accusation, and often played to the worst fears and insecurities of a guilty party. Even nicer, they often avoided a long string of denials and cut right to the crux of the question... are you guilty of something? Many a stubborn man had been reduced to tears when Lefty told a story about killing his beloved pet dog because it wouldn't stop eating the chickens in their coop. And by now, Lefty had lots of tales to choose from, a repertoire for any occasion, and a long list of pets, relatives, business associates and Italian folktales to provide color.

There was no Uncle Sal, although Lefty's relatives had been olive farmers. Of course, any Sicilian had an olive farmer in their family tree. But the story still rung true, because Lefty didn't believe in luck. If he did, he wouldn't be in the casino business and he certainly wouldn't be a gangster. No, Lefty believe in odds. Odds could be stacked in your favor and that's how Lefty preferred to operate his business and his life. Casinos were great because gamblers gave you their money, playing against odds stacked in the house's favor and praying for luck. Anyone who was more than occasionally lucky had messed with the odds in Lefty's view. Or they were people who seized opportunity and called it luck afterwards, like the greedy olive corporation manager in his apocryphal story.

But which was she?

The rouge on her face didn't hide how pale her skin had become as Lefty had finished his warning story. And he saw her stiffen, straightening like a school girl that just got caught passing a note by the teacher. She was hiding something, that was for sure. But he had to give her some respect, as that confidence seemed to come back inexplicably and she started to reply like she was holding all the cards and Lefty was hoping for a bad beat. Then she started with the dice and Lefty almost thought she'd lost her mind. Maybe this doll had a screw loose, or two, in her head.

Something about the confident manner with which she spoke still captivated Lefty, or maybe it was just that she was so damn easy on his eyes. Perhaps it was curiosity to see what possible explanation she could give him using dice for tipping off the police about his clubs. Whatever the reason, he kept himself from interrupting her and decided to see where she was going. Silent listening had often enabled Lefty to give a man enough rope to hang themselves.

The first throw seemed like a parlor trick. After all, she had a one in six chance of getting it right, just like Lefty might. The second throw made his smile fade and his eyes snapped to her with sudden alarm, studying her for any sign that might betray how she possibly could fake this.

A hundred ideas spun though his mind. Was she a magician, palming dice and replacing them with her own? Using magnets and a weighted ball at the roulette table? Could this broad have cheated in ways his experienced crew couldn't spot? In some way that Lefty himself couldn't detect when she was three feet in front of him? It didn't add up and he was trying to process the message she was trying to send to him with her demonstration. Was she admitting she could cheat with dice? Or trying to imply something else... something unbelievable to a practical man like Lefty.

And how did any of this relate to the police busts?

"Ruby, my dear," he said at last, smile returning to his face. "I run a casino, not a stage act that is looking for magicians. What, exactly, are you implying?"
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

Scarlett was so tempted into telling him exactly how she knew about the police raids even if it meant revealing her highest card, her ace so to speak. So tempted to reveal how she had bested even the owner of the club! It was obvious from the look on his face- the way his deep brown eyes searched her- that she had successfully played him at his own game. And oh, she couldn't help but notice how handsome those eyes looked, how they seemed to burn into her in the most dangerously delicious way... For the first time that night, she really studied him. It was a shame that for such a good looking man, he happened to dabble in underground illegal activity. That wouldn't go over so well with Daddy... No, Justice Westin would definitely not like this man. But it didn't stop Scarlett from looking, now did it?

"Have you ever had a feeling that something important was about to happen? What if you knew and had the knowledge to avoid it or encourage it to happen? What if-" Her voice paused there, brows furrowing together slightly as the uneasy feeling crept back into her, this time at an alarming rate. Speak of the devil. And that's when "50%" flashed in her mind, a warning that made her gasp out loud even as the number continued to rise. How was she supposed to explain how she knew about the busts if one was going to happen in, oh, less than 30 minutes? Leave Scarlett, leave now. It was time for another escape, and she would have to make it fast.

But what about Lucca?

If she left now, who was to say he wouldn't suspect her of bringing the raids herself? It wasn't wise to personally get caught in a circle of criminals, and deep down inside, she wanted him to escape. He was too good to get caught, and despite making her feel on edge, he was a charming and very attractive man, which were two things that had always appealed to her. But she didn't have much time to debate on it because with each passing second, the chance of her getting caught steadily rose, and that was one thing that absolutely could not happen.

The girl grabbed the dice and stood, motioning for Lucca to stand with her. "I know this is very sudden, but please, believe me when I say that I am no threat to your clubs." Starting to walk around him, she turned at his side and said, "If you don't mind, I really must go. It's quite an urgent matter. And if I may add, you may want to step out yourself... The night air can be quite refreshing at times, wouldn't you say?" Her hand brushed softly against the expensive material on his arm until it reached his own hand, where she deposited the dice into the slight curve of his fingers. "The dice are rolling, Lucca. Please make the right decision. You have roughly 20 minutes." With one final look at the handsome face, Scarlett walked the rest of the way to the exit, heels clicking against the floor as she opened up the curtain and disappeared into the crowd of the club.

She found Penelope lounging on a couch, shuffling with the money she earned that night. It was such an ugly habit, but it made Scarlett smile anyway.

"So?" was all the blonde asked, raising a questioning eyebrow while putting the money in her coat pocket.

"Later, we'll talk later. Right now, we need to go."

A look of understanding crossed Penelope's face, and Scarlett led the way back to the door behind the tapestry, looking back at the lively scene for just a moment before stepping through, closing the door to her double life and the mysterious man that lingered in back of her mind.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=200x112]http://cdn.mos.totalfilm.com/images/g/gangster-squad-releases-nine-new-character-posters-122500-09-470-75.jpg[/img]

Brian Grady

"Keep the caaaahs back!" yelled Agent Brian Grady. "Yes damn it! The CARS!"

A little Boston dialect slipped into his voice when emotional, or drunk, but tonight Brian was sober and just on edge given the complexity of the raid he was trying to orchestrate. Over thirty cops were arranged in two alleys, with a half dozen cars and buses tucked into the alley in which they were gathering before moving in on the illegal casino that was their target for the night.

A thousand details had to be juggled just to get here and still this whole raid could go wrong a hundred different ways. Brian had been planning it for over a week after an informant had given up the location of this jewel in Capone's illicit underground empire of speakeasies and gambling dens. Supposedly one of the higher class operations that pulled in a lot of cash, a fast raid could seize a large bankroll and actually give some real pain to the mafia for a change.

Brian had moved to town three months earlier, from Boston, as part of a special team of United States Federal Agents in the Liquor and Tariff Enforcement Department. The newspapers just called them the Gangbusters as their target was the criminal gangs that had infected Chicago like a cancer and turned the city into one of the most corrupt and vice ridden in the country. The local cops had been corrupted to the point where they were ineffective, and Brian and his team had been hand selecting the few good ones remaining to join his team... and still there were leaks.

Secrecy had been tight for this raid. None of the cops that were helping his team knew what the target was and all had arrived by bus just ten minutes ago. Brian had painstakingly orchestrated this operation to get all his assets in place and then move as quickly as possible to strike the casino. He wanted as little warning and potential for the gangsters to clear out money and liquor as possible.

"Listen up lads. We are going in 5 minutes. I want teams of five cops on every exit of the building and ten going in the front door with me!" he yelled at the group of blue jacketed police staring at him. "No shooting unless you hear them fire! Anyone that looks Italian or has a gun arrest. Try to grab as many of the guests as you can, but don't bother chasing them. Focus on the criminals!"

Brian gritted his teeth and licked his lips. A drink would be nice. That was a dirty vice that a Federal Agent couldn't tell others about, but fortunately he knew there would be plenty of booze to choose from after they finished the raid. For now, the important thing was pulling this raid off and getting another newspaper headline with his photo in it. He was going to make a name for himself in Chicago, at any cost!

[IMG=150x112]http://i1285.photobucket.com/albums/a582/paramoremcr88/20810ce9f4bf1b5238f2989b055ecda5_zpsda706485.jpg[/img]

Lucca Carbone


Lefty shouldn't have let her go. The business man side of him said that her answers still didn't add up, that she hadn't explained anything. She was likely an informant, or a cheat, or both. He should grab her and get a little rough with her to scare the truth out. Lefty didn't like hitting women, but he knew that for most dolls, all it took was some shouting and flashing them a gun to get them spilling the beans. No, he should have grabbed her slender wrist and held her when she passed him the dice, maybe playfully asking "Where do you think you are going honey? We are just getting to know each other!" or something similar.

At least, that's what Lefty thought as he watched her ass sway while she walked away from him. These thin flapper dressed drove men wild, particularly when a gal had some curves they could hug. Those twin globes of her ass looked spectacular, swinging in a mesmerizing fashion as she disappeared into the crowd.

The visceral, emotional part of Lefty had the opposite reaction. The hairs on his neck had stood up and he knew that she was either crazy or had some other talent that he couldn't fathom right now. The way she told him that he should leave sent a chill down down his back, making him shiver in the warm club. Lefty believed in numbers and in odds. They could be calculated and understood. So when something happened that told him his calculations might be off, his natural instinct was caution. Extreme caution.

"SKINNY!" he screamed over the noisy club, causing patrons to look at him surprise. "SKINNY! Immediate shut down. Take the cash box out the tunnel now. Players can keep their chips and exchange them at another club. All dealers pack up... NOW!"

Skinny looked up in surprise and nodded at the orders. Within minutes, all hell broke loose as Lefty's crew began shutting down the club and worried patrons started to flee.

Lefty lingered by the tunnel, deciding that he'd go with the cash box. He just hoped that Ruby wasn't going to make him look like a fool.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

Relief flooded the young woman's chest as soon as she and Penelope were out on the streets of north Chicago, breathing in the chilly air. It was crisp, biting to the bone as it cooled them off from the heat of being in the speakeasy. The time was around midnight now, and the streets were considerably emptier than when they were last out; the last of the shopkeepers were locking up, and couples in love giggled past, hands interlaced as they ran off to do whatever it was couples in love did. Scarlett buttoned up her coat, covering the dress she was wearing, knowing that the extras coverage it provided would turn less heads as they started the walk back to the car.

The start of the walk began in comfortable silence, and she thought about the events that transpired that night, specifically her conversation with Lucca. She was surprised that he hadn't said anything else as she walked out, but she prayed that he took her advice and left. If anything, it was an exciting experience although strange all the same. Hopefully it was something she wouldn't have to repeat, but on another level, she hoped she would see him again... He was so different than the men who courted her, and his eyes just made everything melt, smoldering with darkness and something hot. But she knew that after this night, he would most likely fade into some distant memory as just another guy at just another club from just another night.

"Scarlett?" Penelope's voice broke the night air with an inquisitive tone as she turned to look at her friend. "You're not this quiet... What happened? You didn't... You know... Get violated or anything, right?"

The redhead looked back at her, unable to settle on an amused or shocked reaction. "No, it was nothing of that sort. The club owner just had a chat with me... Oh, if you had seen him... He was it you know? You woulda been stuck on him."

A smirk lit up the blonde's face. "Would you have let him neck you?"

"Well- I, Penny-" Scarlett stammered before regaining her composure. "Yes."

"He must have been awfully good looking then. Too bad you couldn't keep him even with your luck." She pulled forward, skipping a couple steps before complaining, "Come on, Scar, let's go, I'm cold!"

"A lady never runs in heels," the other woman said, "besides, we're almost there!" They were quite a ways away from the Bayview now, already almost a block and a half away. It was good because it meant that there was almost no chance of them being associated with the underground club. Penelope's car could be seen in the distance, almost exactly where they had left it.

They were just reaching the familiar string of high-class shops when a deep whisper came out of the nearby alleyway, a surprised "Miss Hayes?" seemingly coming out of nowhere. A large man dressed in a police uniform stepped briefly out of the shadows, giving a nod in the two girls' direction before continuing, "What are you doing here? It's awfully late, even for you socialites to be running around!"

"Hello, Officer Jones," Penelope answered, fidgeting slightly in the presence of her family friend, "We were just coming back from, the... Ah, jazz club!"

It was unfortunate that she had said that, just as Scarlett blurted out, "The Bayview!"

Both women exchanged nervous looks with each other before Penelope slowly opened her mouth, attempting to correct their mistake. "There was a private jazz showing in the small ballroom at the Bayview. It was very exclusive, sir, and we were just coming back."

She was met with a stern look from the tall officer, and it was obvious he wasn't buying it.

"Okay, okay!" The blonde sighed, throwing her hands up in the air. "It's Nathaniel and I's anniversary, s- so we met up at the B- Bayview to- to fornicate, but then he broke up with me so I phoned Scarlett to cheer m- me up, and oh, please don't mention it to my father!" She broke into tears, wailing lightly on Scarlett's shoulder.

"Er, it's alright Miss Hayes, I won't say nothin'! I, uh, I- I'm sorry! I think you two ought to head home, and fast. Agent Grady won't take it too well if you guys stick around here." Officer Jones's head turned slightly to the right, directed toward a fair-haired young man who Scarlett could only assume was Agent Grady. She took a step to the right as Penelope blubbered a thanks to the policeman, trying to get a better view. He was... New. She studied him, only hurriedly tearing her eyes away after his head turned to make eye contact.

"Come, Penelope, you can stay at my house tonight," she said softly, pulling her friend towards the car, smiling at Officer Jones as a farewell.

Once safely inside the car, Penelope abruptly quit the stunt, sitting up straight with a grin on her face.

"Aren't you quite the actress," Scarlett commented, "Especially because you let Nathaniel go two days ago."

"Yes, well, I hadn't counted on seeing one of my father's good friends tonight."

The driver's smoky voice interrupted them. "Home, Miss Hayes? You two are quite lucky. The police just arrived not too long ago." He started the car, muttering, "I really should get paid more for this."

Both women nodded silently, relieved to have escaped yet another bad situation. Lucky indeed.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=200x112]http://cdn.mos.totalfilm.com/images/g/gangster-squad-releases-nine-new-character-posters-122500-09-470-75.jpg[/img]

Brian Grady

Brian checked his watch one last time and confirmed that they had two minutes before kick-off. The club would be packed at midnight and full of illegal booze, cash and hopefully gangsters. Movement at the alley entrance caught his eye and he saw one of his police officers chatting with two young ladies. The one with dark red hair was particularly fetching, although Brian was a bit too far away to catch her features. The cop shouldn't be talking to people, he could be sending a warning or something, but just as Brian was about to speak up, the two girls spun and hurried off in the opposite direction of the club. Hmm, he'd have to keep an eye on that cop in the future.

In any event, it was time to go and the girls weren't going to get to the club before they were, not in those heels! Brian blew his whistle.

"Let's go lads! Time to bust some gangs!"

The police fanned out with a military precision that made Brian smile, everyone jogging down the nearly empty boulevard in an odd, anxious silence. The few pedestrians out at this hour quickly got out of the way of the column of police officers and trench coated agents that were charging down the sidewalk. The more intrepid joined the end of the line, eager to see the aftermath of whatever takedown was imminent.

Brian was at the head of the column and started to slow as he saw a large number of people starting to form on the street ahead. Many of them were laughing and shouting, clearly drunk and leaving a party of some sort. Those that saw the cops arriving trying to push away, but the majority of the crowd didn't realize what was going on until blue jacketed police officers were pushing through them, freely shoving people aside to try to get deeper in the alley.

Shit. The club had shut down early. They had been tipped off!

"NO - get to the club!" screamed Brian, shoving men and women aside as he swam upstream through the press of partiers that were now flooding out of the alley. He fought his way to a non-descript door, one hand holding a search warrant and the other his pistol. Frustrated, he waved the paper as he yelled, "Federal Agent Grady. I have a signed warrant from Justice Westin to search this property for illegal contraband, including liquor and gambling operations."

There was no one to even talk to. Just drunken guests filing out of the building. Cursing, Brian shoved his way inside with a press of cops close on his heels. By the time he reached the main floor, there were very few people left, only the drunkest of the guests who could barely walk, and certainly no one that looked remotely like a gangster. Gambling equipment was scattered throughout the room and the bar stocked, but not a single manager, dealer or enforcer seemed to be left.

Cursing, Brian started shouting orders at the cops, pointing to various doors to check and other exits to investigate, but he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. They had been tipped off somehow. There must be a mole in his team, there was simply no other explanation. Some of the cops were grabbing guests outside per his orders and interrogating them might give clues, but the gangsters had the upper hand tonight. Brian kicked an glass on the floor in rage and shattered it in a spray of ice, broken shards and liquor. Walking to the bar, he grabbed a small bottle of whiskey and tucked it into his jacket pocket in a casual motion. At least he'd have something ease his anger tonight.

"There's a ton of booze in the store room!" came a happy shout from one of the cops.

"Take it upstairs and let the press take pictures," said Brian with a dismissive wave. They'd still get a nice story about shutting down the club and confiscating alcohol, but without a stack of cash and Italians in cuffs to parade around, Brian considered this a complete failure.

Somehow he had been foiled. Whoever did this was going to pay.

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Lucca Carbone


Lucca glanced out of the window of his car as they drown down the street, eying the crowd of cops jogging down the sidewalk. He couldn't suppress a grin thinking about the empty club they were going to walk into. Sure, they'd grab a lot of booze, but booze was cheap and could be replenished. Cash and people couldn't.

The tunnel he'd fled in had been an old steam connector that ended in the building across the street which had a garage at ground level. His crew, with Skinny barking orders, had been remarkably efficient and moved all the cash within ten minutes, leaving only tables and booze behind. Most of the gangsters had come with Lefty through the tunnels, while the dealers had simply taken off their bow ties and grabbed coats, mingling with the guests departing out the main door.

"Great call boss, did the doll tip you off?" asked Skinny, who was still sweating and panting from the effort of the shutdown.

"Yeah, let's say she spooked me... but I'm still not sure how she knew," Lefty answered, growing thoughtful. "I want her description circulated to every club on the North Side. If she's seen, the managers have to call around and pass the message. Understand?"

"Will do boss, sure," replied Skinny. "We'll keep her in the club if we find her until you get there."

Lefty nodded and returned to looking out the window. Ruby was still an enigma, but he had a hunch, a strange one at that, that she might be a tool he could use to stack the odds back in his favor again. And that could be worth a lot of money.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

Scarlett woke with a slight headache, making her her temples and the area behind her eyes throb with a warm pounding as she sat up. She squinted against the hot sun that streamed through her window panes, the bright light let in by the curtains that were currently pushed to the side. Her hands ran over the red satin bedding that covered her four poster bed, and it distinctly reminded her of thick, red velvet curtains that led to a certain room and a certain man inside, dark and handsome with charm that seemed to come so naturally...

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts, followed by the voice of her personal attendant Mary. "Miss Westin? Your father would like to see you soon, before he leaves for the Federal Building. Shall I come in an assist you with anything?"

"No, no, that's quite alright!" Scarlett answered in alarm, scrambling to peel off last night's stickings that she had accidentally slept in. "Just- just give me a few moments in the lavatory and I should be right there!" She silently cursed herself for having been so exhausted from her late night activities that she had just removed her dress and makeup, leaving everything else on. And if Mary saw any of that, the stupid maid would probably run right downstairs and tell her father or at least mention the sight of risqué clothing strewn about the floor. "Go away, Mary," she added with a little extra forcefulness in her tone, just as a precautionary measure against the maid's tendency to snoop and eavesdrop.

A trip to the washroom gave her time to freshen up, washing her face and ridding herself of morning breath with the Colgate Ribbon Dental Cream. It worked wonders, that stuff, able to wake her up with the fresh scent of mint as well as take any unwanted traces of alcohol away from her breath. After pinning her hair up in a neat and tidy low bun, she donned a lavender day dress and slipped downstairs to the morning table.

"Good morning, father," she greeted him casually, leaning in as the tall form of her father stood and pulled her in for a hug. "Mary tells me you have some news for me?" She took a seat on her father's right side at the circular breakfast table, the kitchen help already putting plates of food in front of her. The mouthwatering scent of eggs, sausages, fresh-baked bread and fruits filled the air, and she couldn't help but dig in, suddenly aware of how hungry she was. The butler put a newspaper beside her, as he always did, but it was rare that she ever read the thing, even when her father encouraged her to.

"Ah, yes," her father smiled, putting down his own copy of the morning paper. "Have you heard of Brian Grady?"

"No? Should I have recognized the name?" Her eyes flicked upwards, and she struggled to remember why 'Grady' sounded familiar... A friend perhaps? One of Penelope's new boy things?

"Sweetheart, look at the paper."

Scarlett picked up the Chicago Morning Herald beside her, almost amused at the headlining title: Another Grab for Grady. Below the title was a picture of an all-too familiar bar, with a man labeled as Federal Agent Brian Grady standing in front for an obvious pose of a tabloid shot. "Oh..." she said out loud, recognizing the face. "Agent Brian Grady..."

"Splendid!" Her father's face broke out in a wide smile. "You do recognize him! Well you see, I had some plans for tonight..."

His words trailed off as she lost focus, eyes exploring the rest of the article for any interesting tidbits about the police raid... And down at the bottom, her blue-gray orbs widened at the picture of another man. Slick hair, wide shoulders, a strong chin and jaw that supported full lips turned up in a half-smile, and last but not least, those dark eyes that burned with intensity even through the newspaper. It made her catch her breath, not only at the shock of seeing him there, but because she was reminded of how handsome he was. To the right of the picture, a caption read "Lefty Carbone, known for being associated with Al Capone, evades authorities yet again." Scarlett paled. A gangster. He was a gangster with connections to Al Capone! And to think she had drinks with him when he easily could have killed her! No wonder he had been so interested in her- he probably thought she cheated him in his own casinos...

"...Is that alright Scarlett? Tonight is acceptable?" Her father's voice brought her back with his question, and she absentmindedly nodded along.

"Yes, dad, tonight is perfect." She had no idea what he was talking about, and she chewed lightly on the inside of her cheek- a disgusting habit that showed itself when she got nervous.

"Good girl. And sweetheart? You may want to take a rest before tonight. You look like you've just seen a ghost! I'll be home later. You have a good day, my dear!" He chuckled as he walked away, opening the front door open and letting it swing shut on his way out.

Scarlett pushed her food away, the daze of her newfound knowledge catching up with her, and she scrunched up the paper in one hand then bounded out the back door, giddy to tell her best friend of the morning excitement.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=200x112]http://cdn.mos.totalfilm.com/images/g/gangster-squad-releases-nine-new-character-posters-122500-09-470-75.jpg[/img]

Brian Grady

Brian woke with a stinging headache the next morning, the empty bottle of whiskey on the table by his bed. Given the late night, he was in no rush to get into his office and took his time bathing, shaving and getting dressed in the hopes that his hangover would fade. Regarding himself critically in the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist, Brian thought he still had a fair amount of the muscle left from his days playing football at Boston College. That was a relief as he had just turned thirty, although his boyish face with light blue eyes and lighter brown hair still made most people think him much younger. He had a great smile, one he knew the ladies loved, but he'd worked hard at developing a perpetual scowl to make himself look older and more serious while at work.

He had an image to maintain in the office, after all. Agent Grady wasn't a happy, young man. No, just the opposite.

Intense. Driven. Perfectionist. That's what his colleagues thought of him. Perhaps behind his back they might add self-promotional, political and ambitious. Brian was fine with those backhanded compliments as well. They came as a result of his meteoric rise through the federal prosecutor's office and now the Bureau of Liquor Enforcement. Brian had applied same competitiveness and penchant for self-promotion that had let him walk on and make the Boston College football team to put his career on the fast track working for the feds. And even his current job was just a stepping stone for his end goal, politics. If he played his cards right, there was a Representative Grady, or even a Senator Grady in his future.

But his focus today was the prize fight he had arranged of Grady versus Al Capone. At only thirty he'd been handpicked to lead the special task force designed specifically to go after the country's greatest criminal. If Brian played his cards right, taking Big Al down was going to give him the publicity and fame to launch his political career with a bang. All he had to do was keep grinding out victories and wait for his thuggish opponent to make one mistake that would let Brian pin something on him.

Any charge at all really, to get Capone behind bars even for a year or two. All Brian needed was just a little luck. And last night's busted raid was troubling him because luck hadn't been in his favor. The secrecy of his plans had been as tight as he could make them and would implicate a mole within his trusted inner circle. Until he found out how that club had been tipped off, Brian was going to have to be very careful in selecting his targets. Some of his agents had interviewed the guests and he was hoping they had reports waiting for him at the office. He was feeling better now and actually looking forward to putting some time in to figure out this mystery. No stranger to working late, Brian spent more time in his office than the small, undecorated apartment he nominally lived in.

Shit, that damn dinner was tonight!

Judge Westin had invited him to his house this evening. As the senior Federal Judge in this district, the invitation was one that Brian had spent a long time cultivating. Justice Westin was his closest ally in the gangbusting task force and an essential relationship to develop to get easy access to search warrants and phone wire taps. Brian knew how to lay on the charm when needed and had been working Judge Westin since he arrived in Chicago a couple months ago. As annoying as it was to not be able to work all night, Brian would have to do this dinner. It was likely going to be boring, sucking up to an old man with football stories and what not, but the Westins were one of the richest and oldest families in Chicago. They had connections in politics, business and even back in Washington. This was a career building relationship he had to invest in and be on top of his game for.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

"Ouch! Mary, be gentle. The goal is to shave my legs, not cut me to ribbons!" A frown turned down Scarlett's lips as the maid girl huffed and gave some half-assed apology, and she tensed her calf in response to yet another nick on her skin. They weren't bleeding, but they still stung even when Mary applied more of the shaving lather to the sensitive skin. Shaving had really only become popular when hemlines became shorter and dress material became sheerer, and Scarlett was not one to miss out on the world's newest fashions. After all, she did study the art abroad in Paris, so she was always kept up to date on the newest styles, even if they were a bit more jaw-dropping than the last batch of clothing trends. As such, shaving became a priority, as no woman wanted the feel of hairs poking out from underneath her stockings, but still it was left as a taboo subject to talk about in public- it was assumed that if a woman shaved her legs it was because she wore short dresses, which made her indecent, a flapper and a tramp.

As soon as Mary was finished with both her legs and the work of putting her long dark red hair in an intricate updo, she slipped on a simple cream dress and went to fixing herself in the mirror. As with all business dinners, she went for the appearance of a demure, well-behaved 22 year-old lady who was so thankful that her father could raise her well now that her mother was gone. Unlike the night before, she went with a neutral look that accentuated her features. A light pink wash of rouge on her cheeks made for a youthful glow, a slightly darker pink on the lips gave them a fuller appearance, and last came the new eyelash product from the local Chicago company Maybelline. A bit of the cake mascara darkened up her lashes, widening her eyes in a way that was sultry but not downright indecent for a young socialite. She sighed, knowing that a majority of the night was probably going to be spent listening to her father and whoever else talk about politics. Maybe if she was lucky she would get a break and be able to listen to some sports talk, but even that thought seemed so unappealing to her, the same way a man might find women's talk and gossip to be a bore.

Scarlett was surprised to see the kitchen staff prepare quite the meal, and she raised her eyebrows at the prepared dishes: lamb medallions, a succulent roast chicken, various greens and potatoes a la hollandaise... Whoever was coming tonight was someone her father obviously wanted to impress for whatever reason. It wasn't all too uncommon, but it happened so rarely that she could remember each time it happened. It was usually for some government official higher up in he political world, and the thought dampened her spirits even further; there was no way she'd get out of the political talk now! A solid knock on the door brought her out to the foyer, where she saw the butler and her father waiting to open the door.

"You look lovely, darling," her father complimented, beaming down at his daughter. Scarlett just nodded and faced the door, a smile plastered on her face that was fake as it was beautiful.

The butler opened the door and Justice Phillip Westin let out a hearty laugh as he made his greeting. "Agent Grady! Right on time, just as professional on your down time as on your job, I see. Ah, well, that is to be expected of such an accomplished young man!" He stepped aside as the butler offered to take the guest's suit jacket, and he put an arm around his daughter. It was obvious now where Scarlett had inherited the cool, blue-grey eyes from, but everything else from her shapely body to the mahogany locks were a spitting image of her mother.

"This is my daughter, Scarlett," Judge Westin introduced, pushing her forward slightly, "She's my whole world, my jewel, and just as beautiful as her mother, wouldn't you agree, Brian?" He nodded to a couple of gold frames on the nearby wall that showed one colored painting and another black and white photo of the late Gemma Westin, whose looks translated directly onto Scarlett, save for a slightly more delicate face and light brown eyes that seemed captivating in their own way.

The redhead kept her expression neutral as she held a hand out in the greeting one might expect from a high-class lady: an extension of her arm that was slightly turned downward so a gentleman might kiss her hand rather than grasp it for a handshake. Now that she saw him up close, she was able to see how striking his features were, especially the blue eyes that were just a tad warmer than her own. She kept her eyes on him, wondering if he might recognize her from the night before, but... maybe not. After all, it had been dark and she had been caked in makeup, almost like a completely different woman from the show she was putting on now.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=200x112]http://cdn.mos.totalfilm.com/images/g/gangster-squad-releases-nine-new-character-posters-122500-09-470-75.jpg[/img]

Brian Grady
Brian watched as the valet drove his government issue Ford towards what appeared to be a large garage down the circular driveway. Brian couldn't even see the true size of the house, no, mansion in the darkness. The Westins were clearly in a wealth stratosphere that was difficult for Brian to comprehend.

"Toto, we ain't in Southie anymore," Brian muttered to himself as he removed his hat and moved towards the already opening front door. His neighborhood in Boston was mostly lower class and blue collar Irish immigrants and he'd been the first in his family to graduate from college even, let alone law school. Despite his low beginnings, Brian had plenty of experience shmoozing rich people over the years and felt he'd reached a point where he could impress anyone. An important skill to have if he was going to be a politician. Judge Westin already liked him so tonight should be a breeze.

"Justice Westin!" Brian exclaimed, reaching out to give the old man an enthusiastic shake while keeping strong eye contact. Now time for the joke. "Can I call you Philip? Great. You bet I'd be here on time... if I was late I know you'd sign a bench warrant for contempt!"

The butler was taking his jacket and hat and Brian finally noticed the third person in the entry foyer, a beautiful girl, no... a beautiful young woman. Philip had his hand around the beauty and was introducing her, but Brian found it hard to pay attention fully as he was suddenly lost in this gorgeous creature's eyes. It was difficult, but he moved his gaze to take in the rest of her face. Her hair was a lustrous, glowing mahogany and her skin white like porcelain. A little light make-up that her delicate features barely needed gave her a slight bit more mystery. Brian didn't dare let his eyes drop to take in her dress, not with her father standing there watching him, but he knew her figure had to be stunning. There was something vaguely familiar about her, hell, maybe he'd seen her in the society section of the papers or something!

Time to pull it together, he couldn't stand here and gape at Philip's daughter in front of both of them!

"Oh... Scah-lett?" Brian asked when he got his brain back in gear, cursing his Boston accent for slipping out when he wanted it least always. His smile flashed out and he took her proffered hand gracefully, bringing it to his lips for the lightest of brushes. "Brian Grady, pleased to meet you!"

Tonight was definitely going to be much more interesting than he had first thought, and now Brian regretted wearing his rather boring blue pin stripe work suit. Not exactly the outfit he'd wear to dinner with an attractive lady. And Brian was suddenly very much interested in whether she was staying, or as he suddenly feared, leaving to go on a date with some other lucky man.

"Is the lady going to be joining us for dinner, Philip?"
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

Both the accent and the touch of Brian's lips on her hand was charming, and Scarlett let out a girly giggle that was was definitely part of the show but not forced in the slightest. The icy blue of her eyes melted as a polite smile glowed upon her face, flickering with a mix of humor and flirtatiousness. It was something she couldn't help, especially because the guest tonight wasn't some old fart who was there to talk about justice system, and he immediately piqued her interest. What was more interesting was that he showed no knowledge of ever having seen her before, but she didn't know if that was due to the fact that he chose not to mention it or if he actually couldn't recall her face. But Brian seemed to be a nice guy, even if his joke made her roll her eyes. It was painfully obvious to her that he had attempted to impress her father, and she had been so tempted to lean in and tell him that it would have been much easier for all parties involved if he just got on his knees and bowed down. But no, she had held that tongue of hers and waited for the introductory phase to pass.

On the other hand, Philip beamed at Brian's sense of humor that elicited another chuckle. "Did you hear that, Scarlett? He's got wit in that brilliant head of his as well! Brian, I'm surprised you haven't picked up a lady during your time in Boston." With a wave of his hand, he ushered his guest and daughter into the formal dining room. Like the rest of the house, the decor of the room was almost embarrassingly ostentatious with a high ceiling, walls that were painted an off-white beige, crown molding and a glass cabinet that held an aray of fine chinaware. Two large windows accented with rose-gold curtains provided an excellent view of the well-kept lawn in the back as well as the garden further out. Philip walked to the head of the large wooden dining table that stood in the center of the room. "And yes, Scarlett will be joining us. She loves meeting my colleagues, don't you darling?"

"Oh, yes!" She nodded her head with enough force to make it seem genuine but not overly enthusiastic. "These dinners are always so... enlightening. Plenty of intelligent conversation, plus it's nice to get away from gossip every now and again." The last statement was only partially true, and if one listened closely it would have been clear she was lying, but her father seemed not to notice and patted her shoulder.

"She's growing up to be quite the woman. Anyway, please take a seat!" He gestured for Brian to take a seat on his left while Scarlett took a seat on his right. She waved away the butler who pulled out a heavy wooden chair, plopping herself gently on the red satin chair cushion, locking eyes with the blue pair across from her and wondering if he would eventually realize this was just a game for her. The kitchen staff soon came with three bowls of lobster bisque, setting them down in front of each person before quietly exiting, leaving them in a comfortable silence.

Philip spooned a few mouthfuls of the creamy soup before continuing with the light dinner talk. "So how was that raid last night, Brian? All went well, I hope. Your career is very impressive, and your work here is a much needed change from the former police work going on in the streets. Young man, you're giving Chicago something to talk about! But enough about work, why don't you tell me a bit about yourself and Boston? What made you take an interest in law enforcement?"

"I hear it's very lively in the northeast," Scarlett interjected, a smirk of sorts playing on her pink lips, conflicting with the innocence displayed in her eyes.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=200x112]http://cdn.mos.totalfilm.com/images/g/gangster-squad-releases-nine-new-character-posters-122500-09-470-75.jpg[/img]

Brian Grady
"You ahh-r staying? Delightful, although I'm sure you and your father will provide all the intelligent conversation while the best I can offer up is amusing tales about criminals and gangsters!"

Brian's appraising eye took in the Westin's mansion as they led him to the dining room. The inside was just as ostentatious as the outside, overwhelming to the blue collar agent's senses in its calculated display of taste, class and and old money-- lots of old money. As was typical, there was an air of purposeful casualness in the rich decor, like the Westins weren't trying to impress anyone and merely needed a tasteful way to display all the heirlooms and other family treasures they possessed. As if it was perfectly normal to have a china set worth as much as a regular person's house! The rich were a different breed, but fortunately Brian had hobnobbed with the upper class many times in Boston and Chicago and had become skilled at the social nuances they expected. His face betrayed nothing but a polite smile and he was careful to let his eyes never linger too long on any of the more expensive decorations.

"A lovely home, beautifully decorated and with character," Brian said, finding the right mix of subtlety and understatement that he knew Philip would appreciate. And there, some featured artwork in the living room, the only safe objects Brian had learned that you could compliment explicitly. The rich appreciated culture and knowing artists was a sign you were in their club. Maybe not wealthy or born into it, but at least cultured enough to belong. Fortunately, the conservative Philip had a taste for art that Brian actually liked as well. "Is that a Bellows piece? I love his work, so much more visceral than the modernist junk that is all in vogue now. Look at the emotion in that boxer's face!"

The real treasure, of course, was Philip's beguiling daughter who glided next to Brian like some vision of unattainable class and beauty. The agent was a disciplined man, but it took all of his willpower to not ogle Scarlett as he made conversation with Philip. The glimpses he risked, when her back was turned and Philip distracted, only made the red haired socialite more tantalizing. Her body was stunning, and the sheath of a dress she wore that revealed very womanly curves was on the border of being risque for a woman of society. Her youth let her pull it off, no doubt. That hair seemed to shine, mesmerizing waves of red, black and brown that rippled with ever flick of her neck or turn of her body. And those eyes, Brian couldn't risk lingering on them for fear of getting lost again. Nothing the old judge had in his house could approach Scarlett in value by Brian's estimation.

They were settled and Brian found Scarlett across from him and Philip to his right. It was going to be a chore to keep his eyes on her old man all night while she sparkled several feet away. Oh well, at least he'd have something nice to stare at when the conversation got boring!

"The raid went well Philip, but we missed the big fish. Plenty of booze was confiscated, but the gangsters slipped away with the cash minutes before we got there... I'm not exactly sure how they knew," replied Brian, mind suddenly filling with annoyance and thoughts drifting to his work. "But we gave them a good blow, that club was one of Capone's jewels."

Brian dragged his mind back to the dinner conversation, no need to dwell too much on what he considered a failure with Scarlett in the room. Now, talking about himself... that was something Brian could do well. He didn't get to where he was by being unafraid to impress others with his accomplishments! The key was doing it in a self-deprecating way. Mastering the humble brag had been a linchpin to Brian's professional success. The story of his life was one of those well rehearsed tales he could launch into at any time, full of humorous anecdotes and interesting successes, and tailored to the audience to do one thing-- impress.

"Well, there isn't too much to tell..." Brian began with a grin, eyes twinkling at Scarlett. "My parents are working class Bostonians and I grew up in a hard scrabble neighborhood. When you live with criminals, and see the effects of crime... what it does to good people... you either decide you are against it, or become an accomplice. I chose the former..."

An Irish boy from a rough neighborhood gets into Boston College through hard work and, of course, some hints that he had to be smart as well. He plays on the football team as a walk-on, goes to Notre Dame for law school, and then has a meteoric rise as a federal agent cracking down on the same gangs that he fought as a kid in the streets. What was not to like when combined with charm, good looks and a sense of humor? Scarlett listening was an interesting wrinkle, and Brian felt an urge to tweak his story just a bit for her benefit with the goal of getting her to really laugh, not just give polite chuckle. Just that first, little success quickly focused him on the game of teasing out what she seemed to enjoy, the stories made her lean forward, those blue eyes wide, and the jokes that made that melodic laugh to come out in full glory. Of course, what girl didn't like hearing about a dashing police hero, saving lives and shooting criminals? As a result, Brian went a little heavy on his own actions. Firing his pistols, kicking down doors, cuffing gangsters and dodging Tommy gun bullets as he saved Boston from both the Mafia and Irish gangs. Philip seemed to enjoy it as well, no doubt finding Brian's blend of legal intelligence and ability to get his hands dirty exciting, especially given the older man's long tenure as a judge that operated only in the court room.

The dinner was going faster than Brian expected with everyone in good humor. Complementing the conversation, every course was exquisite. First had come the bisque, then the dressed, beet and vegetable winter salad, and finally the main course of lamb, chicken and sautéed potatoes. Even better, the menu thankfully had no pasta. Brian hated Italian these days. The only thing missing, he sighed at the thought, was a little wine. Maybe a cocktail, or even just a beer. Especially in social settings, Brian's craving for a nip of the good stuff could become overwhelming. Later tonight he'd have to dip into some of his reserves of whiskey.

"And may I ask... about the both of you. How did you get into law enforcement Philip? And Scah-lett, what do you want to do with your life?"
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

To Scarlett's surprise, it was rather easy to fall into Brian's gentlemanly charm. She found herself smiling, laughing and gasping along to his stories, entranced by the detail and amount of action. It was a wonder the agent was still alive after all he had been through, but it was probably because of the mix of brains and brawn that was so admirable and decorative on him. But what she enjoyed the most were the stories of how he saved towns and cities from the threat of gang violence. She leaned forward in her chair, breasts laying gently upon the table and exposing a hint of cleavage as the dress material stretched down slightly against the wood. He was a modern white knight... It made her wonder if he had his own damsel-in-distress that he claimed, but she brushed the question away. It was rude to ask about such things upon first meeting, and she still adhered to etiquette no natter how wild she liked to get. Close to an hour-and-a-half had passed since Brian's arrival. Dinner was fantastic, the desert was exquisite, and the Westin father and daughter found themselves sharing their stories as well.

Philip pushed his plate away in a smooth motion before smiling at Brian. "Law enforcement runs in my blood! I am third generation 'Justice Westin'... My father and grandfather made sure I continued the profession. I enjoy it really, and I get to meet all these wonderful colleagues. But I think it's better for all of us if you think of me as a friend more than a colleague or superior. After all, you may be my superior one day, Brian." The man winked at the federal agent. "My story isn't nearly as interesting as yours, just filled with a lot of family history laced with Chicago history, and I don't want to bore you to death! Anyway, please excuse me for just a moment." Philip nodded to his guest and smiled, pushing back his chair and disappearing behind the corner to some unknown area of the house.

Scarlett smiled then, knowing her father had just let out the hook on Brian with his offer of calling him 'friend'. Soon enough he'd be reeled in like so many others had been, attracted to her father's status like a moth to a flame. She couldn't blame Agent Grady; it was damn near impossible to decline an offer like that. It wasn't every day that a high standing federal judge invited someone to call him friend, and even she knew only a cool would reject it. She looked to the agent to search his face for a reaction, but was quickly reminded of her own obligation to speak when her father left.. If there was one thing she hated, it was talking about herself. She loved her father, but it would be a lie to say that she grew up in a wonderful home with wonderful parents. Her mother was dead, and at times it seemed her father loved work more than his family. But Scarlett understood why he worked so hard, so she always felt a pang of regret every time she thought of her father as neglectful.

"I grew up here in Chicago. I recall it being different then, none of these gangs running about, and it was also a smaller city. But anyway, as far as what I want to do with my life, I- I don't know yet. When I finished my schooling, I studied various arts abroad in Paris. I just returned about a year ago. Painting and fashion were the two that I loved, and they're regular hobbies of mine. I think I'd love to travel, though. France was beautiful, and I'd love to see more of Europe and America." She paused, saying phrases in French before saying them in English. " 'The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes'... Of course, at some point I'd like to start a family. I'm an only child, and I know my father would love to see me wed and with children before he dies." She leaned forward again, breasts and cleavage slightly exposed as they had been before, but this time on purpose. Would Brian dare flick his eyes downward? But it didn't matter. She liked it, he'd probably like it, it was a win-win situation all around.

It wasn't until the sound of her father's heavy steps that she straightened herself, sitting up politely as a young lady should. Philip returned, gesturing to Brian. "Are you enjoying yourself? I was wondering if you would be so kind to indulge me in more conversation over in the sitting room for the rest of the evening. And Scarlett, sweet, could you bring us some sparkling cider?"
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=200x112]http://cdn.mos.totalfilm.com/images/g/gangster-squad-releases-nine-new-character-posters-122500-09-470-75.jpg[/img]

Brian Grady

Brian was now feeling the urge for a drink more than ever. The rush of entertaining Philip and Scarlett with his stories was wearing off and his mind hungered for a nip of something, anything with some kick, to transform this natural buzz into a sweeter one. The sparkling cider was such a tease, especially presented in a champagne glass. The touch of the flute it in his hand and the sight of bubbles in his eye made every subsequent sip a disappointment.

Damn his job! There was little hope that the good Judge might keep some medicinal stock of liquor like many normal folk did. Who knew, perhaps the Judge might have a wild side?

But Scarlett was suddenly alone with him and Brian felt his buzz returning as he stared into her shimmering eyes. He wasn't drunk, he painfully knew that, but the lightheaded feeling he was getting was shockingly similar. She was mesmerizing to look, but even more bewildering to listen to. Her voice so melodic, yet with that slight accent he knew so well, an accent of wealth and class that made his own Boston Irish drawl seem suddenly embarrassing. It was erotic just hearing her speak, imagining the years of schooling at exclusive institutions she had endured to sound like that. And when she spoke French, Sweet Mary, Brian could almost feel himself getting hard. No, best just to nod, smile and let her talk. Why remind her of the gulf between them by opening his mouth and forgetting to enunciate an 'R' again?

And by letting her talk he could also just stare at her. He'd already studied her face during dinner in every detail and found it flawless, young but with chiseled cheekbones and full lips that hinted at a sensuous side. And her hair, so lustrous and shimmering, was a beguiling auburn cloud that seemed to glow around her porcelain white skin. He'd only stolen glimpses of her body earlier, but as she talked she leaned forward, her voice lowering and drawing him in conspiratorially as she spilled her bosom towards him. The little tart knew the neckline of her dress and there was no doubt in Brian's mind the cleavage she was displaying was calculated to entice him.

Wait... was she flirting with him?

Brian had bed enough women to know what the signs were, including dolls from the 'lower' upper class. He was no blushing schoolboy, but his mind reeled a bit at the thought of Scarlett being interested in him and for a second he felt like an inexperienced youth with no confidence. Of course he'd tried to impress her, tried his hardest in fact, but the entire time he'd been aware of the vast chasm between them in wealth and class. It had been a game in which he assumed he had no chance and could therefore play at with no pressure, like a scrimmage before the football season started. Loose, relaxed and free to make risky plays for fun.

But, Philip had invited him here tonight and specifically invited Scarlett join them for dinner. The old man was not a fool and Brian suddenly felt his throat tighten as he kept his grin easy and eyes locked on Scarlett. Was Philip, perhaps, trying to introduce him to his daughter for romantic reasons? Was this wealthy, respectable judge giving Brian his implicit endorsement that he should woo his daughter? And was this well-bred, refined and very delicious daughter now signaling that she was open to said wooing?

Well, Brian was never afraid to make a gutsy play, even if it meant risking a touchdown if he missed the tackle. This was a high class broad, the kind of girl that he didn't get to flirt with often, but in his mind women were the same, to some degree. Well, some were whores. He knew that well. Many were whores in fact, secret whores and dirty girls. But Scarlett couldn't be one of those, no with a high class lady though you still had to not be afraid to show them that you were a real man. A man that took what he wanted and wasn't afraid to go after a girl, no matter who she was. His first sweetheart in middle school had been the cutest girl in the class, the one all the other guys had been afraid to speak to. While not the biggest or the best looking guy, Brian had been her first kiss because he'd been the only one unafraid to tell her he thought she was beautiful. Never back down and never be afraid. Especially with women.

Brian very casually, while still smiling at Scarlett, let his eyes drop and studied her exposed cleavage for a long second. Not long enough to be awkward or perverted, but far too long to be an inadvertent or accidental glimpse. Just enough time for him to contemplate the perfect, round mounds that lay below her dress and imagine his face buried between those upper class pillows. Gorgeous. Then his eyes flicked back up to hers and he let his smile get wider as she finished speaking.

"Delightful," Brian said, pausing for a second in a fashion that might make her think he was referring to the sight he had just shamelessly stolen. "Although I think you've moved onto getting married and having kids as the next phase a bit too quickly. I'd encourage you to live life up a bit before hand, so you have no regrets. Make sure you've met the right man, and all that."

Just then Philip returned and the cleavage show was suddenly over. Brian was soon nodding to the old man and assuring him that he was having a marvelous time.

"Getting to know you and Scahh-lett has been delightful. I'd love a drink... and I won't arrest you if you top the cider off with something harder!" Brian joked as he got up to walk with Philip to the drawing room.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

Philip laughed, raising his eyebrows at the the federal agent before shifting his eyes quickly, his voice dropping to a murmer. "I remember the wet days, pre-Prohibition. Just between you and me, I preferred the days with alcholol... Which is why I kept some in reserve." He winked, leading Brian through open spaces and finally through a door and into a large room that had curtained, wide windows and an array of seating. The decor was, not surprisingly, full of showy pieces that were almost gaudy to the eye, but they served as just another reminder of how wealthy the Westin family was. Philip took a seat in an arm chair that was adjacent to a fireplace and gestured for Brian to sit at the arm chair across from him. A small table served as a partition between the two men, and Philip continued speaking. "But this doesn't hurt anybody, ey? Remember that we are not the criminals using it for monetary gain. We're not Capone and his good-for-nothing thugs. I'll have some wine brought up by Howard, as he's the only one of my staff who knows I have it."

A quick succession of knocks on the door alerted the men to an entering presence. Scarlett appeared with a fresh bottle of cider, setting it down on the table between them, as well as two glasses. "Is there anything else I can get for you, father?" she asked, smiling sweetly at Brian despite talking to her father.

Philip waved his hand without bothering to look up. "No, that's quite alright. Go on, darling." It was an ovbious dismissal, and the redhead nodded, taking her leave and closing the set of doors behind her. The judge turned his face then, looking at the closed door. "She is an angel, my Scarlett. A part of me is ashamed to hide my little liquor secret from her, but I'm the only immediate family she's got left. I have to set an example for my daughter..." His pensive tone fell away as he looked back at Brian. "She was raised in all private institutions ever since she could enter grade school. Remarkably bright, although it's a shame she doesn't seem to show it all the time. And I don't know what it is about that girl, but she can persuade people to jump off a cliff if she wanted to. I think she just got lucky with her traits, hm?" The man spoke fondly of his daughter, obvious that he loved her. But another tone was present in his speech, sounding almost like a salesman pitching a product to a potential buyer.

"What do you think of Scarlett?" he finally asked Brian, looking him directly in his eyes. "I like you, Brian, and I want the best for my daughter...Consider this as me telling you that I think you're the best choice for my daughter." He gave a slight smile, shaking his head. "I know she spends time with those wild friends of hers, and I don't think I'd like her being pulled into all that. They may be of high status, but many of them fail in having high class, which is something you have."

Another knock on the door sounded, the door opening and Howard coming into view. "Your wine, sir," he said, placing a bottle of Zinfandel wine next to the untouched cider. It was of late harvest, sweeter than the usual Zinfandels, and it was perfect as an after-dinner drink. The butler uncorked the bottle and poured each man half a glass of the dark red liquid before giving a half bow and stepping out. With the door closed once again, Philip gestured for Brian to try the wine, waving his hand briefly toward the glasses.

#​

This wasn't right. Her father inviting Brian to the drawing room alone wasn't right. Scarlett crossed her arms as she watched both men leave, silently wondering why her father didn't invite her this time. Usually she sat there and politely nodded her head while her father and whatever important man talked politics. While the subject matter was boring, getting glimpses at Brian was rather interesting, and she suddenly found herself bothered by not being able to stare at his tall frame and captivating eyes. She stood then, grasping two glasses and an unopened bottle of cider, bringing them to the drawing room as her father had asked. Once dismissed, she closed the door and stood outside, pressing an ear to the door. Snooping wasn't her favorite thing to do, but she was curious about what her father had to say that couldn't be said in front of her ears. A male voice broke the air, instantly recognizable as her father's.

"... A part of me is ashamed to hide my little liquor secret from her, but I'm the only immediate family she's got left. I have to set an example for my daughter..."

Scarlett almost snorted at his words. Almost, but not quite. More than it being an unladylike thing to do, it would alert both men to her eavesdropping, and that wouldn't do. No, it wouldn't do at all. Instead she rolled her eyes, thinking it sort of funny that her father hadn't expected her to find the hidden alcohol. She didn't take from his stash as it would surely give away her dirty habits, but she periodically went down to the cellar just to see what was stored there. Then she would order the very same drink when she and Penelope went out, so it benefited her all the same. Her breathing stilled as Philip mentioned the family situation, but it pleased her when her father never elaborated on the issue. What surprised her was the focus of conversation, hearing her own name come out once or twice along with personality traits that her father observed over the years. She smiled at the mention of luck– her father would really never know exactly how persuasive she could get and why. It was her own little secret, unknown to everyone but Penelope.

A certain line drew her back to her father's voice, and she heard "...I like you, Brian, and I want the best for my daughter...Consider this as me telling you that I think you're the best choice for my daughter..." Light confusion pressed upon her mind as she caught other words, "wild friends" and "high class" among them. It dawned on her then that he had brought Brian to play matchmaker; the thought made her bring a hand to her lips and bite a bit of skin to keep herself from laughing. It wasn't that Brian was a good choice, but the last two times her father attempted such things, they ended poorly. One was only interested in sex, and the other was so afraid to touch her that he got clammy every time she brushed up against him.

Despite the hilarity, Scarlett couldn't help but feel a little bit upset at the ordeal. It was her life, and she didn't want anyone dictating what kind of man she had to marry or when she had to marry him. She was only 22 and had plenty of life ahead of her. As Brian pointed out, she needed to live life to the fullest before settling down, and that included so much more than just going out at night to pretend being a woman of lower class. She wanted to see the world! And having her settle down so fast wasn't going to allow her to do that.

The girl threw herself across the hall into a small library of sorts as the butler came and went with the wine, keeping note of the name 'Zinfandel' to order it during one of her club outings. Making sure he was out of sight, she returned to her sneaking, eagerly paying attention to what Brian had to say about her. Did he like her? Obviously he liked what her body had to offer, and she smiled at the thought, pleased upon remembering his reaction to her teasing at the dinner table.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=200x112]http://cdn.mos.totalfilm.com/images/g/gangster-squad-releases-nine-new-character-posters-122500-09-470-75.jpg[/img]

Brian Grady


Brian's pulse quickened when Philip admitted that he did indeed keep a private stock. He was liking the old man more and more. The relationship with the wealthy, influential and politically connected judge was something Brian planned to cultivate whether he found Philip a miserable snot or pleasant company, but it was increasingly evident that Philip was going to be an enjoyable friend for Brian to collect in his rise to power. And of course the Judge's delightful daughter was just another sweet benefit of staying in Philip's favor.

"I agree, liquor drunk responsibly causes no problems. I just wish we had a way to keep it in the hands of responsible men only," said Brian as they settled into the plush drawing room. Scarlett's dismissal by her father caught Brian by surprise. He had been looking forward to more of her company and watched her leave with a little frown of regret. The sight of her figure walking away, sheathed in that tight dress, was a small consolation. There didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on her lithe frame but it still somehow had enough padding to make the contours of her heart shaped ass stand out nicely. Brian thought it almost waved goodbye to him, the twin globes of her ass swaying perfectly with her walk out of the room.

Philip had been rambling about something and a pause in his words made Brian glance back at him. Fortunately, the old man had been looking away in thought and hadn't caught the agent's lingering gaze on his daughter's ripe ass. The judge had said something about setting a good example as Scarlett had no other family left. Brian was about to reply when Philip continued, praising Scarlett and then throwing the question at him about what Brian thought of his daughter.

The inquiry caught the blonde haired agent by surprise and his eyes widened while he let out a nervous chuckle.

"Well, Philip... frankly, she is delightful. I couldn't imagine a more perfect young woman. Smart, beautiful, accomplished and so full of personality," replied Brian after taking a second to collect his thoughts. He wasn't sure he knew where this was heading, but regardless, complimenting the man on his daughter was never going to hurt.

Philip's next words left Brian a bit stunned again as the directness of the old man and the enormity of the offer on the table was overwhelming when Brian considered the implications. Fortunately, he was saved by the arrival of Howard with the wine and Brian gathered his thoughts while the bottle was uncorked and poured into glasses. The dark red sparkled in the glass before him and Brian found himself licking his lips in anticipation. Oddly, the swirling liquid reminding him of Scarlett's auburn hair as he considered his reply. It seemed the good Judge's wine and his daughter were two things that he craved very badly right now.

From a physical standpoint, Brian was already incredibly attracted to Scarlett and would love to bed her. She was a real doll, a stunner that would turn heads wherever she was seen. And, while Brian was more focused on sex these days as his job didn't leave much time for dating, Scarlett certainly had enough of a personality and head on her shoulders to make a dinner fun and entertaining. She wasn't just a bimbo good for a quick fuck, she was very much a woman worthy of dating.

A woman he could marry.

A wife.

And that's when his mind really started spinning. At some point, Brian knew he needed a respectable woman at his side for his political career. From a cold and calculating, strictly political perspective, he needed a spouse who would aid his career. Marrying for love was out of the question with his ambitions. He needed to find a wife that had unquestionable breeding, an upper class family name, and most importantly wealth. All assets that Brian lacked and might hold him back as a politician. He needed someone that would show anyone in the upper class that he had gained a stamp of approval from one of them and made it into their club.

To be a Congressman, if that was his next step, Brian needed a Congressman's wife. Even better would be to find a girl that would be worthy of a Senator when he reached that rank. Could he even hope for one that might fit as a Governor's wife? To dream of yet higher, a First Lady, was schoolboy fantasy at this stage, but still...

And Scarlett would be perfect, maybe even for that fantasy of a First Lady.

She was suddenly his dream girl in more ways than Philip or Scarlett could imagine. Brian's passion for politics and his own rise to power was just as strong as his sexual desire and longing for romantic intimacy. Maybe even stronger frankly. Perhaps as strong as his need to drink this scarlet wine that he swirled in his hand as he held it up before his eyes to inspect its texture. His love of alcohol and blossoming desire for Scarlett seemed to mix together in equal parts in that mesmerizing red liquid that suddenly seemed to be an elixir that could fulfill all his potent ambitions. The first hints of the wine's fragrance hit his nose and sent an intoxicating rush of hot longing through his body to cement the juxtaposition.

Holy mother, he wanted her badly. He needed her.

"Cheers!" said Brian, clinking his glass with Philip and taking a first, deep sip of the sweet and slightly spicy red. It coursed down his throat and seemed to fill him with a new fire, confidence and unquenchable ambition. Scarlett was being offered to him and his path of ascension seemed suddenly clear and free of obstacles. With his red haired, wealthy wife Brian Grady would rise from a poor childhood in an Irish slum to become one of the most powerful men in America. All thanks to this nice old man who had given him the keys to his political future as casually as he'd handed him this spectacular vintage of wine.

"This wine is incredible, such a nice finish," replied Brian after savoring his sip. With great discipline, he placed the glass down. He wanted so badly to quaff it all in one swig and turn the fire burning inside him into a bonfire. Regarding Philip somberly, he nodded. "Your daughter is incredible and has already stolen my heart. I am flattered and unworthy of anything you suggest, but with your permission, I will gladly do my best to try and press for her hand and to win her heart as well."
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

Giddy elation carried Scarlett to an emotional high, and her lips split into a wide grin upon hearing Brian's compliments, even if they sounded a bit superficial. After all, how would he knew how intelligent or accomplished she was without ever having spoken to her about the subjects? He would be sorely disappointed to find out that Philip was only blowing smoke in attempt to get him to court her, but she couldn't argue with the truth of her own father's words. She was raised in Catholic private schools, always with the best instructors and faculty, educated in everything from literature to to maths. It was basically expected for her to be educated as she was part of high society, and it was just as important as her etiquette training. But a part of her mind couldn't shake the feeling that Brian was only saying such grand things to please her father. Years of meeting various coworkers and important businessmen made it easy to spot the signs of a man trying to climb his way up the political ladder, and no matter how polite Brian was, Scarlett could almost see right through him.

But then, another part of her believed he was telling the truth. A spark of attraction hit her when he had taken the chance to stare at the neckline of her dress and the soft flesh that lay beneath, and she was almost positive that he felt it as well. It was a shame that her ability of luck couldn't detect feelings and intentions. The special sense of intuition only seemed to work when actions and events were involved, but the mechanics were logical in a way. There was no real method calculating a person's feelings and thoughts; she could see the probability of events, not read minds. Even if there was some way for her to read into someone's emotions, it would be useless. Impressions and feelings were prone to change especially when it was someone that she had limited interaction with.

Outside the drawing room, seated on the hardwood floor, Scarlett sighed. She wanted to be upset with the judge and federal agent, resenting the feeling of being treated like an object being brokered by her father to the man with the highest status. Whatever happened to being married out of love? Whatever happened to being swept off your feet in a whirlwind romance that resulted in stolen hearts and hot nights? But she also knew that the old man acted out of love and concern for his daughter's future, and she couldn't-- and wouldn't-- fault him for it.

It's not like Brian was a bad-looking man. He was quite the opposite really: clean-cut with kind eyes and a winner's smile, physical traits that were complemented by charm, refinement and obvious confidence in his womanizing skills. Out of all the girls and and women who might have wanted him, it was she that had won him, and it was by default as well! It wasn't hard to imagine herself as a doting wife. It wasn't hard to imagine herself clad in white and walking down the isle to greet the man of her life. It wasn't hard to imagine herself smiling teary-eyed at the guests as the priest announced them as husband and wife.

Mrs. and Mr. Brian Grady.

Her wonder of it all was too great for her to keep silent, and she tested the possibility of the married name out loud, whispering "Scarlett Elizabeth Grady" into the air. A giggle of nervousness and excitement bubbled up from her diaphragm, prompting her to clamp a hand to her mouth in fear of being too loud. The name itself rolled off the tongue quite nicely, but saying it out loud made the prospect of her marriage to Brian all the more real. It cemented the idea in her head, and it was sure to already be lingering in the back of his mind as well! Soon enough, it would only be a matter of time before her father started pestering her to grant him grandchildren... She could almost hear his voice rambling on and on...

Wait, his actual voice was getting closer! Absorbed in her thoughts, Scarlett had forgotten to keep track of the conversation behind the door, and now she was panicking, trying to find an excuse as to why she was sitting outside the drawing room. She couldn't give Brian the impression that she was an eavesdropping gossip! Quickly, she scampered into the library across the hall, making a small porcelain vase shatter on the ground as her foot caught the leg of the small table by a bookshelf. She cringed; there was no way her father and his guest hadn't heard that. Kneeling on the floor, she reached for a familair book off the bottom shelf and opened it to a random page just as Philip took a step in the door.

"You heard that too, didn't you Brian?" he asked, his voice reflecting concern. "... Scarlett? Goodness, what happened! And what are you doing here?"

"Oh, um, conversing with Mr. Grady earlier reminded me of an exquisite French literary work, and I searched the larger library before coming here. I found it here though." She quickly waved Les Misérables up to both men before returning it to the shelf, standing after she did so. "The sound of the drawing room door opening so suddenly made me jump and bump the table. It was an accident, father, I promise! I apologize for being so clumsy and interrupting your time with Brian." The young woman glanced up at her father with remorse written on her face, and she only hoped the feigned sad innocence masked the guilt in her eyes. Would Brian be able to tell something was awry?

"It's quite alright, dear. I hope you weren't hurt! I'll have the staff clean this up right away." The judge patted his daughter on the shoulder before brightening the situation with a grin and a hearty chuckle. "Brian, how long have you been here? Three months? I'm sure Scarlett would love to take the opportunity of showing you around the great Chicago. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes!" the young woman added, nodding her head enthusiastically. "I have Margaret's birthday luncheon tomorrow, and then Penelope planned to take me to see her cousin at the opera the day after, so our outing will have to be in three day's time, if that's alright."

Both Westins look expectantly at Brian, the judge's eyes shining with hope, and his daughter beside him seductively biting her bottom lip.
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

[IMG=200x112]http://cdn.mos.totalfilm.com/images/g/gangster-squad-releases-nine-new-character-posters-122500-09-470-75.jpg[/img]

Brian Grady

Brian had finished two full glasses of wine by the time Phillip was ready to wind down the conversation. The alcohol had warmed his body and a pleasant buzz had set in, just the start of where he'd be within an hour after he dipped into his personal stash of confiscated whiskey as soon as he got home. Finishing the conversation was proving difficult for Brian as Phillip was rambling and all Brian could think of was his future political career with the lovely Scarlett by his side.

"I'd like to thank most of all, my beautiful wife Scarlett. The mother of our three children. Without her tireless support by my side, none of this could have happened. I know you all elected me as Senator, but really, you elected the both of us! Thank you!"

Brian was startled out of his fantasy acceptance speech by the realization that Phillip had stood and seemed ready to end the night. The blonde haired agent hastily took a last swig to empty his wine glass and rose to join the judge in heading towards the front door. A shattering noise made both of them quicken their pace and Brian was surprised to find Scarlett in the hall, a book in one hand and a broken vase on the ground next to her. He was a little too buzzed to even realize the scene was a bit odd, his eyes instead drinking Scarlett's sexy figure as greedily as he had quaffed the wine. The fresh context of her being his future wife making him appraise her every curve with new pride.

Damn, she was truly beautiful. If Brian wasn't careful, he was feeling good enough from the wine to say or do something truly stupid or embarrassing. It took all his mental concentration to not leer at her and keep his eyes above her neckline. At least Scarlett's orbs as she batted them so sweetly at her father were beguiling enough to hold his gaze.

"Ahh would appreciate that very much, Scah-lett," Brian replied smoothly, heart skipping at Phillip's invitation to spend time with his daughter alone. The old judge didn't wast time, did he? Brian liked that. "Three days from now sounds perfect. I'll call you the day of for the details."

A firm handshake with the old man followed and then a gentlemanly kiss on the back of Scarlett's hand, with a wink that only she could see to show her he was playing it up for her dad. And then he was out in the cool night, smile on his face and looking at the expansive grounds of the mansion with a coolly appraising eye. It didn't looks so intimidating anymore.

After all, some day, this all would be his.

[IMG=150x112]http://i1285.photobucket.com/albums/a582/paramoremcr88/20810ce9f4bf1b5238f2989b055ecda5_zpsda706485.jpg[/img]

Lucca Carbone

"Any sign of her, Skinny?" ask Lucca as he entered the speakeasy. His fat lieutenant was sitting at the bar eating a bowl of pasta with a napkin tucked into his shirt.

"No boss. I gave her description out two days ago to all the managers in the area," replied Skinny after hurriedly swallowing the mouthful of food he'd been chewing on. There was a newspaper on the counter in front of him and he held it up for Lefty to see. "Boss, you made the front page again! This edition just came out. It's got a pic of you from this morning donating all the food to the orphanage on Wacker. The headline is 'Gangster with a heart, or heartless gangster?' And a nice picture of you too!"

Lucca's blue eyes flicked over the front page, the headline photo showed him surrounded by children while posing in front of van packed full of boxes of food. It was a good picture, actually, which was rare as he felt the press always chose a bad angle when printing photos of him. Of course, they had to ruin the moment by branding him a gangster in what was otherwise a perfect opportunity to rehabilitate his image. He took pains to always point out to reporters that he was an Italian American businessman, the owner of a number of successful restaurants, grocers, and ethnic delis, as well as the head of a thriving import-export firm. Sadly in today's racist world, successful Italians were viewed as criminals. That was his line at least.

"Fucking reporters. Always have to ruin a good thing by making me out to be a criminal," Lucca grumbled as he walked towards his private office in the back. This particular speakeasy was in the heart of the loop. A prime location surrounded by upscale hotels, restaurants and music clubs. It was relatively small, but one of his nicest joints and designed for high-end customers. Skinny rose and followed his boss into the office, napkin still hanging from his collar. Lucca sat down and eyed his Lieutenant with a thoughtful look. "De'Angelo sent me a message and said he'd come by around 6pm. He wants to talk about a truce, a formal negoziati. I think we've hit him hard and he knows we are going to win. He probably just wants to angle for the best concessions before he joins with Al's gang and we'll soon have another forty blocks of territory."

"He's a snake, an untrustworthy furfante that sleeps with the Irish. I wouldn't trust him and I say you tell him you don't want to talk, he has to surrender on our terms or the war continues," replied Skinny with no hesitation.

"I can't turn down a negoziati. Let's see what he has to say. I agreed that I'd only have two men in the club with me, besides the bouncer. I want you of course. Pick someone else and let the other boys know to wait down the block," said Lefty, waving at Skinny in dismissal. "Oh, and find me that girl Ruby..."

Skinny was nodding as he left, a sour expression on his face again. Lefty knew his infatuation with the mysterious redhead was likely seen as a silly obsession by his men, not that any would say anything to his face. They'd all seen the kind of dolls that threw themselves at Lefty every night and probably were wondering why their Boss seemed to have it so bad for this particular broad. To be honest, Lefty wasn't exactly sure why he cared so much either, but the likely reason was too strange to admit.

Sure, Ruby was a pretty doll. The red hair was striking, her eyes magnetic, and her figure was an eyeful, but there was more to her appeal to Lefty than her looks. Lefty had also sensed that she was an upper class broad, from the good side of the tracks. But even that wasn't what was making her pop into his head at the oddest times. It was her parlor trick with the dice and then the warning she'd given him about the raid. Lefty wasn't the superstitious type, but every Italian knew there were greater powers out there that you had to respect. If she could do what she claimed, predict the future and stack the odds in his favor, well, in Lefty's line of work that was a level of insurance that was worth a fortune. Of course, no one would believe him and even admitting what he say might make people spread rumors that he'd lost his marbles. No, he'd have to tread carefully in finding the truth about Ruby's abilities.

If what he saw was real, though, the girl was a potential goldmine. He would have to find a way to get her help. And it didn't hurt that she wasn't hard on the eyes in the event they needed to spend some time together...
 
RE: Bright Young Thing || Prince & Ariamella

A pile of dresses lay haphazardly in the corner of Scarlett's boudoir, and she flopped herself down on the plush chaise lounge that faced her closet doors. Ugh, there were almost two dozen other dresses to choose from, and yet there was still nothing to wear! She felt like a budding socialite again, worried over whether her attire would be well-received and, more importantly, whether the dress would catch the eye of the man she wanted to impress. She checked the time, reading 2:00 on the desk clock that sat atop a jewelry cabinet, and sighed; dinner with Brian was still four and a half hours away, but here she was, fretting over what dress she thought he would like the best. With her busy schedule it was a miracle he even agreed to meet for dinner after she told him that she was bound to prior certain morning commitments, but who knows, maybe he wanted to see her just as much as she wanted to see him!

The romantic thought brought her mind back to the clothing before her, and she once again eyed the rack of hung dresses. Perhaps Brian would like the conservative fashion of the linen white sheath? No, she shook her head thoughtfully. What she needed was an evening dress, not a day dress. The satin violet with the exquisite bead work was always a possibility... Hm, but maybe not. It looked much too formal for the dinner, plus the style looked a bit dated. The last thing she wanted was to have Brian think What did she want? Scarlett sighed for the second time as she finally stood, throwing on a basic cotton dress and gathering her belongings. There really was no better feeling than daddy's money and a little bit of retail therapy, and the dinner date with Brian was a perfect excuse for her to enjoy both those things.

The Westin chauffeur dropped the young lady off at Burke's, a high-class store that she frequently shopped at. The saleswoman at Burke's was a middle-class woman with the refinement of high society and the a taste for fashion that any woman could appreciate. She was young, some Londoner who moved to America to stay with her uncle and his thriving business. Personally, Scarlett loved that he made and sold only the highest quality garments, and in turn he loved that the young socialite would blow cash in his store on a monthly basis.

The redhead inspected herself in the full length mirror, turning her body this way and that to make sure the dress fit her curves well. She had spent close to two hours in the back getting the dress rehemmed and taken in, stressing to Henry Burke and his niece that it was a matter of utmost importance. It was obvious he hated being rushed in his work, but it was also obvious that he loved pocketing Judge Westin's money-- especially after Scarlett offered to pay double the normal price for such short notice.

"You look fantastic, Miss Westin," the saleswoman said for the nearly the tenth time, her cockney accent beginning to sound bored and tired. "Only you could pull off such a daring and fetching look."

It was true; the dress, while not being as short as one of the flapper dresses, was still pushing the limit in respectable society. The satin fabric and overlaying black lace dipped low between her breasts and came up to an inch above her knees. Oh yes, this was the kind of fashion choice that often kept her name in the society sections of the papers. With black gloves and dark sheer stockings to match, the girl was finally ready for her date with Brian.

"Tell Henry I'll be back later this month to have my dress made for the Hayes' annual gala. Give him my thanks for yet another beautiful piece of work," Scarlett finally responded, leaving the back room and giving a nod to the owner of the establishment before stepping out to the sunset dimming over Chicago. One of the reasons she loved this particular shopping area was that it was neighbored by various upscale establishments ranging from restaurants to hotels, with a number of fancy clubs to top it all off. It was conveniently in the same vicinity as the restaurant where she was to meet the federal agent and, even better, it was near another one of the high-end speakeasies that she and Penelope so loved to frequent. In fact, there were a surprising amount of speakeasies in this area, serving as proof that alcohol was enjoyed by the higher end of society just as much as lower class citizens. The time was just reaching 4:30, and with all the spare time until dinner, she decided it was a perfect time for a drink.

Scarlett entered the illegal club with ease, nodding at the bouncer behind her. As long as she had cash in her hand he always let her in. Besides, it wasn't like he hadn't seen her before. Granted, she had always come with Penelope and looked a bit different because of the amount of makeup she wore, but she was to the point where entering speakeasies in this part of town hardly scared her. Most people came just to drink, and if there were any disruptive guests the bouncer was more than happy to show them out. She sat at the bar, smiling at the familiar sounds of happy chatter and the clanking of glasses against tables as the patrons began to drink the night away. It was heavenly, the release of stress that alcohol brought, one that was particularly enticing for tonight's events. She was about to go out with a man she barely knew, whose intentions included marriage as well as wooing. If she hadn't been curious enough to eavesdrop, she might have thought Brian was doing it because he was genuinely interested in her, but right now their situation seemed too calculated... Like he was in it for political gain.

God, she needed a drink.

"Bourbon with a splash of cool water, please," she told the bartender. Steel nerves required harder alcohol to unravel, and the burn of the alcohol going down her throat made her feel warm all over, melting any of the I'll thoughts that settled over her as she thought about the coming dinner. Time seemed to pass slowly as Scarlett ordered another, aiming to buzz her mind just enough to stop worrying about Brian and whatever plans he had for his-- their-- future. On the third bourbon, she stood and stretched her body that seemed to hum with contentness at the poison running through her veins.

"Thank you," she said with a slight giggle, sliding a small stack of bills to the bartender. It was only 5:30 but with the amount she had been drinking, Scarlett knew it was for the best if she left-- she was still a lady and she still had an image to uphold for the man who wanted to be her future husband.
 
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