The busy, bustling city of New York. Caped in melancholy beats and rhythms of all shapes and sizes, the Nineteen-Twenties proved very prosperous for the city. Sure, there was… racism… prohibition… gang violence… things a normal person often addresses. For this tale, however, keep in mind those qualities, only on the side. You do not want to neglect the important aspects!
Ah, as I continue once more…
Picture… a frolicking city… a new era! There are skyscrapers and automobiles and tons of people walking in the street... come in a little… you are welcome here…
Look, to your right! Some boys, clad in knickers and caps, are playing marbles! To your left! Dozens of women, wearing bonnets and pantyhose, parade past you, smiling and snickering at a man who just walked past you. Ah, he looks different! See his style? That is called a Zoot Zuit! And he is being polite, too... he tilts his cap at the ladies…
Cigarette fumes, automobile fumes… bakery fumes, yum! But, wait… what is that? Move in a little closer now…
Is that?
Dreamy Dardanella, she of the harem eyes!
Smile a little… come on! This is music! A radio resides in nearly every household and apartment! Movies!
Oh, pardon… back then they were called motion pictures. Sound was not invented for the moving screen yet…
What is this? A cute girl walking out of the cinema? Ah, yes! Follow her… she has a story to tell!
The young girl looks both ways, and runs down the sidewalk. Her hair is long, going against the times.
"My name is _... I am the second oldest daughter of a wealthy family here in New York… Carnegie…"
You continue to run. You avoid many objects, such as newspapers being thrown and couples holding hands. You dash by an apple vender. You stop and take a few steps back, looking at the cart of apples. You throw a cent in the air just as the vender throws you an apple. You and he both catch your item. You place the apple in your mouth and wave goodbye to the vender. He waves back.
"Thank you!" you exclaim, running off again. You does not look where you are going and as a result, run directly into a man. You fall on the ground from the impact. Your apple rolls to the curb. You sigh, looking at the ground, exasperated. You slowly glance up at the man, stopping at his pants.
"Pin… stripped?" You, without grabbing your apple, crawl past the man's legs, and stand up quickly. You race even faster than before down the street, scared and crying. The man watches as you leave. He looks at the apple and picks it up from the ground.
You now run to the door of your family's mansion. Out of breath, you open the door, walk inside, and close it, falling to the ground leaning against it, eyes closed. You hear the tapping of feet in front of you.
"Where… were you?" You opens your eyes and look up, scared.
"I was-!"
"Don't doddle with me! Tch, heavens…"
It is a woman, about forty, dressed on casual garb of the day. Her lounge dress is lavender-colored and raw. She wears matching furry bow slippers. Her hair is cut short and is starting to grey. One hand is on her hip. The other is slightly in the air holding a perfume bottle. She is scowling.
"This is my mother… Veronica…"
Veronica taps her foot even more.
"You missed your hair appointment, I hope you know!"
"Yes Mother, I know…"
"Well if you knew, why didn't you show up?"
"I-…"
"Vera, Vera! Don't yell at the girl!"
A woman walks in, carrying a case of perfume bottles. She stops behind Veronica. Her voice tone is medium and friendly. She has a lot of youthfulness in her. You smile.
"Aunt-…"
"Emily!" Emily smiles. She opens the case of perfume in front of her sister. She covers her mouth, preparing to whisper into Veronica's ear. She eyes the young Carnegie girl on the floor.
"Maybe she was out with some chaps!"
"Heavens no!" exclaims Veronica, swiping her sister's hand away from her gracefully. Both women look at you. "Hmph, she wouldn't be seen anywhere with 'em… she hates males-…"
"Do not!" You slowly stand up. The women turn around and whisper, ignoring you.
"She's near eighteen, and hasn't had a boyfriend to save the life of her!"
"Ah… maybe she needs a check-in at the clinic? I heard they've got good treatments to cure such diseases…"
"Auntie Em!" you exclaim, hands in fists and pouting. The women continue to ignore you.
"No, no! Church is the answer! I've already sent a letter to the minster."
"But you don't attend church, Vera!"
"I know. But at a time like this, action must be taken. Either this girl is far too immature for her age, or she needs spiritual guidance."
"Maybe both."
"Uh-hm."
You look down and cross your arms, leaning against the door again, frowning.
"Aunt Emily, Mother. Do you think this perfume suits me?"
Another woman walks into the room. She stands still while Emily and Veronica sniff her wrist. You glance up.
"No, Mary. It's too violent."
"Violent? Flibbertegibbit!"
"Emily, it reeks of… musk…"
"Oh, get with the times, Ver! Women these days don't brissle and brazzle wearing peach and rose! They want a MAN to catch their eye! And what better a weapon than Parfume Monsiure a le Sexiette?" says Emily, puckering her lips and blowing a kiss. Veronica rolls her eyes.
"So can I have it, Mother? Please?" Veronica waves her hand at her daughter.
"Alright, but only if it gets you a husband!"
"Mother, I'm engaged!" says Mary with a smile. Veronica smiles, too.
"Oh, Mary! Such a good child! I just don't want your husband to stray because of this cheap French Parfume!"
"Cheap? Well then! I'll have you know I picked this fresh from the market at my boutique!"
"Yes Emily, and your taste is just as thought out as your pocket."
"I'm a girl… I like to have fun…" says Emily, patting the ends of her hair gently. A girl enters the room, carrying a scrapbook. She looks up at Veronica.
"Mother, is _ here?"
"I'm right here, Betty!" The girl smiles. She races up to you happily.
"_, _! Did you see the gangster film?"
"What gangster film?" asks Veronica. You look up, and down again. Your hands are behind her back. "What film?" Veronica walks up to you and lifts your arm. She takes a ticket from your hand and looks at the title closely. "Underworld?"
"S-Starring George Bancroft. It wasn't really violent!"
"Regardless! You should have been here, with me! Not out to see some silly motion picture!" says Veronica, throwing the ticket at you.
"B-But-!"
"No buts! You are grounded, Missy! Grounded, grounded, grounded!"
"He-llo, everyone!"
The door opens. The girl steps away from the door. A hat peeks through. The door is opened completely and a man walks in, carrying a cigar in his hand.
"Oh, Ralph!" Mary runs to him and grabs his neck with her arms. She gives him several kisses on the cheek.
"Ah, look who showed up!"
"Mother!" Ralph walks up to Veronica and gives her a hug. Both smile tenderly.
"Oh Ralph, it's gonna be so nice to have you as a son-in-law!"
"Yes ma'am, don't I know it! Where's Agatha?"
"I hate that name." says the little girl carrying the scrapbook. Ralph goes to the girl and pats her head.
"Aw, cute kid."
"Come, Betty. Let's talk more in the living room…" you say, pulling her sister's arm as she walks into the sitting room.
"What was the motion picture about?"
"Um, this gangster boss named Bull Weed has this big operation, see, and he makes a few deals here and there…"
"What about love?"
"Huh?"
"Romance… did Evelyn Brent and George Bancroft kiss?"
"What?! That… isn't even important…"
"Of course it's important! What's a movie without kissing? Come on! I'm eight years old and I have more sense than you do!"
"Not true."
"It's so! Mother says the same thing. 'She doesn't go out enough for the right purposes! She hasn't had one boy call on her! Oh, whatever are we to do?'"
"I get the message, Betty…" you say, scowling. You sigh, turning away from her and closing your eyes. "It's… just that I don't really see the point in marriage. Men are too ignorant."
"Ha, ha! Maybe they avoid just you, _!"
"HEY!"
"Girls, Aunt Emily is leaving!"
Betty races out of the living room. You sit on the couch and place your hands on your lap. You look down and frown.
"Aren't you gonna say goodbye, _?" You shake your head. Veronica sighs and walks out of the room, leaving you alone to ponder all that had been discussed.
"It's not that I don't want a guy, it's just that... they…" You close your eyes.
It is now evening. Your family is sitting in the living room around the radio. Your father is adjusting the dials while smoking a cigar.
"Come on baby, get there…" he mutters. You stand up and walk out of the room.
"Where are you going, _?" You stop without turning around to face them.
"Yeah, _! Gene Austin's gonna be on shortly!"
"I… know… I just have to… run a few errands first…"
"At this hour?"
"I have a dress to pick up at the shop. I forgot about it!"
"Just have one of the servants pick it up in the morning."
"No! I only have an hour, or else she's not gonna sell it to me!"
"If that woman is familiar with the Carnegie's…"
"Veronica… let her go…" says your father, patting Veronica's hand with his free hand and smiling. Veronica sighs.
"Alright. You better be back in an hour!"
You nod and leave the room silently.
You race down the city streets as you did earlier in the daytime.
"If Mother finds out I lost the radio nob after playing with it a couple times, she… no, Father will kill me! He will shoot me down like a… gang…"
You stop and look up, upon hearing a stringed instrument playing. A voice. A familiar voice.
"Gene Austin?"
You run down the street. The sound is very evident now. You stop in front of a bar window. A crowd surrounds you. You make your way through the crowd, and press your hands softly against the window, looking in. Gene Austin is singing, accompanied by a cellist and a pianist. A radio recorder runs near him. He faces the listeners, so you cannot see his face. The only face you can distinguish, for it is facing the window, is that of the pianist. You cannot watch Gene Austin, so your face is concentrated on the pianist entirely. You look at his face. Very serious. His arms move as his fingers tap the keys. The melody is very pleasant. He pauses for a few seconds as the cello comes in again. He continues playing again. Gene Austin makes pleasant noises. He continues singing the lyrics as the cello leaves. He whistles a comforting, whimsical tune. He proceeds to sing the lyrics. The song ends with an uplifting melody of "Blue Heaven," capped off by the pianist tapping twice on the piano. The crowd, inside and out, applauds.
"Thank you." Gene Austin shakes the cellist's hand. The pianist looks up at the star. Naturally, one would expect Gene Austin to shake the pianist's hand, but he does not. Instead, Gene Austin taps the top of the piano with his hand and smiles at the pianist. "And as for you, I hope your ambitions remain ever steady." The pianist looks at Gene Austin and smirks, grinning a little. He laughs once under his breath. Gene Austin, the cellist, and the man holding the microphone leave the bar. The crowd leaves with them. You turn to watch as they go. The pianist sighs and closes his eyes for a slight second. He frowns, still irritated. He opens his eyes and lifts his fingers over the keys. He begins to play a jazzy and at times, uplifting, piece. You turn your head towards the window. You watch his hands glide across the keys at times. One hand speedily taps, while the other keeps the beat. You are amazed at how well he plays. How pleasant the melody sounds coming from his fingers. You turn your body around completely, facing the window again. The song picks up. Both hands move faster. Faster. The pianist bobs his head a little, smiling, almost smirking. The melody tones down again, as the beat is returned to jazz. He taps his finger repetitively on several keys. He ends the piece with one hand playing the notes perfectly. At a final high-pitched note, the song is completed. He lifts his head. No one applauds. You find this strange. You applaud. The pianist, whose elbow rests on the piano and head on his hand, eyes closed and tired, opens one eye upon hearing your applause. He opens both of them quickly, shocked. You stop applauding. The man stands up, looking attentively at you. Both of his hands are placed firmly on the piano. You look down at his suit.
"Pin-… stripped?"
Frowning and scared, you race out of there at top speed. The pianist walks out of the bar just as you are leaving. Realizing you are gone, he tsks, closes his eyes and pulls out a cigarette case and match from his pocket.
"Gangster?!"
"Yes, Betty! A real-life gangster!"
"And he played the piano?"
"Yeah!"
"Quiet down in there! Before I have your father come in and make you quiet…" says Victoria from outside the bedroom. Betty moves towards the foot end of the bed by you, minding her voice from being heard by her mother.
"Gangsters don't play the piano, _! Don't cha' know? I heard they lose a couple fingers so they can shoot more accurately!"
"That isn't true… besides! He wore a pin-stripped suit, so that means he's a gangster!"
"Uh-uh. I don't believe you." Betty crosses her arms and turns to the side, pouting. You sigh.
"Fine. You don't have to believe me. Tell everyone I was shot by arrows, not bullets, at my funeral…"
"Funeral?" You nod.
"Yes, Betty. He saw me. Now he's gonna kill me. I ran away, so he must think I've got something on him." Betty hugs you.
"No, _! You can't die! You haven't even had your honeymoon yet!"
"Hey! It's not like that means anything to me! Stop crying now, will ya?" Betty lets you go. You sigh again.
"Maybe he didn't see me… there's only one thing I can do to make sure…"
"What?"
"Tomorrow I'm gonna go out again…"
"At night?" You nod.
"If I walk past the window and he doesn't shoot me, I will know for sure that he doesn't want to kill me…"
"Isn't that risky?"
"Yes, but I have no choice. I will die sooner or later. I would prefer if you knew about it, but didn't tell Mother or Father. Alright?" Betty nods, smiling. You smile, patting Betty's head with your hand.
The next night, you walk down the same sidewalk towards the bar. You hear piano music playing. You take a deep breath in. Your hands are in fists at your sides. You stomp quickly down the sidewalk. As you pass the window, you close your eyes. Upon completely passing the window, you stop, breathe out, and open your eyes. You look slightly over your shoulder. Nothing happened.
The next night, you do the same thing, and the next. Still nothing.
"That's odd. Maybe… maybe he just can't see me. Gangsters are known to shoot people in broad daylight, too!"
The next day, you prepare to turn the corner to reach the sidewalk. You turn the corner. To your surprise, the pianist is standing in front of the bar, leaning against the wall. You notice him right away, gasp, and immediately turn back around the corner, breathing heavily. You lean against the brick wall, not sure what to do next. He might have gone back inside. You slowly peer your head past the corner. He looks at the corner, and you immediately jump back again. You hear a bell ring. You look past the corner. He went inside. You walk around the corner onto the sidewalk, and immediately dash past the window. He looks up from inside the bar, startled.
The next day, you do nearly the same things. You see him outside and race behind the corner. Instead of waiting for him to go back inside, you gain courage, and turn around the corner completely. But, you stop. He looks up at you, hands in his pockets, and smoking a cigarette. You cannot move. You did not prepare for this. He looks at you and you kind of look down. You start to move your eyes up. Immediately they fall down upon noticing his glare. You stand there for five minutes. A group of girls walk past you, laughing and chatting. They walk past him, too, but he is still staring at you. You breathe in and out. Strength gathered, you race past the pianist, assuming you will either be shot or saved. Instead, the man grabs your right arm as you run. You stop instantly. You hesitantly look at his hand and his arm. You try breaking free.
"HEY!"
You stop moving. You look up at him. Suddenly, a feeling emerges. One you have never felt before. You hold your lips together as they become dry. He says a few things, but you do not comprehend them. They are almost inaudible.
"City… race track!"
Your eyes are focused on his. Pale green. Unlike any color you have seen before.
"Run… fall… face…"
His silver hair perfectly complements his skin and eyes. You look at his mouth as he is talking. Those… lips… so… fascinating…
"What's more is… make a living!"
You close your eyes.
"Am I gonna… faint?"
You unnoticeably move your lips towards his.
"Hey, are you listening to me?!"
You open your eyes immediately, shocked. You move slightly away from him. Your face is bright red.
"Uh, uh… I…"
He lets go of your arm. You pull down your bonnet. You run away, very embarrassed. The man, confused, leans against the wall again and continues to smoke his cigarette.
"What's love?" "Love? Oh, _"
As you run, you are reminded of something Mary told you when you were a child. You stop and lean against s brick wall, catching your breath.
"Is it a disease?" "Ha, ha! Well, it could feel like a disease… sometimes…" "How do you know you've got it?" "You know you're IN love from the signs…" "The signs?" "Your heart starts beating quickly…"
You feel your chest with your hand.
"You feel sick to your stomach, and your face turns bright red whenever you see him…"
You fall to the ground and close your eyes. You hold onto your stomach, wanting to vomit.
It is nighttime. Your family is listening to the Dennis Day Show on the radio. A woman makes a suggestive comment. Your father covers Betty's ears until she is finished talking. Betty sighs. The door is opened. Everyone looks right. You enter the house, removing your bonnet from your head.
"_, is that you?"
A servant takes your bonnet. She touches your forehead and glances at Victoria.
"Ma'am, she feels hot."
"Oh, heavens!" Victoria stands up and walks over to you in the other room. "Just ignore me, children." She feels your forehead and cheeks. She pinches your cheek, looking directly at you. "What were you doing, girl? Roaming around in the sewer?"
"I want to speak with Mary."
"Mary? What's Mary got to do with your illness?"
"Please, Mother. This is important." Victoria sighs. She looks into the living room.
"Mary, come here!"
"Yes, Mother?" says Mary, walking into the room.
A few minutes later, you are in your room with Mary. You look into your vanity daydreaming. You pet your hair with your hands.
"Mary, what's it like being in love?"
"In love? Well, that's a random question…"
"Is it wonderful?" You look at her. "I mean, do you always feel like you're lighter than air? Flying high in the sky?" Mary gets up from your bed.
"Is this some kind of a joke?"
"Joke? Why would I be joking?" you say, eying the mirror again. Mary sighs.
"You're just… not yourself. Mother told me you got sick or something… I think you're hallucinating…"
"I thought so, too, at first… my stomach ached, my lips were dry… I didn't know what to think about… when I thought about, um…" You look down. "This actor, I immediately felt at ease. Since then, I can't get my mind off of him!"
"Ah, so you're finally infatuated with someone…"
"Infatuated?"
"It's the feeling you have when you're sweet for a guy. You get all jittery, and goose pimples form on your arms."
"Is it like love?" Mary walks up to you. She looks into the mirror with you, smiling.
"Sorta, 'cept love is a whole 'nother thing. If he feels the same way, magical things happen." You glance up at Mary.
"How do I get him to feel the same way?"
"Ha, ha! I don't know. Maybe the pictures will help ya." You look into the mirror again.
"Pictures?"
For the next few days, instead of seeing an action motion picture, you view romance films. One in particular catching your eye is "Sunrise: A Song of Two Humans," about a farmer who falls in love with a city girl. You pay close attention to the love scenes of every picture you see, what they do, how they react. You cannot quite figure out how it all works, except for the conclusion you must be beautiful to attract the opposite sex. You continue watching the pictures. The women have on makeup and pretty dresses. Their hair is cut short. Even the way they walk is beautiful. You sigh. You are not like them. You are still just a kid. You walk out of the cinema. After having seen many pictures about romance, you decide the best option is for you to change the way you look in order for him to fall in love with you.
Emily cuts and styles your hair. You buy new dresses. You practice putting on makeup until you are used to it. Heels become your new shoes, even though they hurt your feet. "Shootin' High" plays in your mind.
After two weeks of preparation, you are ready to meet him again. There is just one thing missing. You sprits on Mary's perfume before you leave for the bar.
It is nighttime. You turn the corner and walk down the sidewalk. Your heels clip-clap on the concrete. You hold your clutch purse at your side. You stop upon seeing the bar. You expected him to be outside smoking a cigarette. You hold your purse by your chest and take a deep breath in and out as you proceed. Piano music is heard. You distinguish it as "The Streets of New York." You reach your hand for the door. You gaze into the window. He is busy playing the piano. You look at the door again, frowning, and open it. A bell clings when you enter and when the door closes. You look around. Men and women are mingling everywhere. You try not to look at the pianist, eying a stool. You stroll to the stool and sit down. You place your purse on the bar and look down, still frowning. A few minutes pass.
"What do you want, Miss?"
"Huh?" You look up at the bartender.
"What would you like to drink? We have tea, ginger ale…"
"G-Ginger ale, please." The man nods. As he gets your drink, you close your eyes and sigh. The bartender places a glass of ginger ale in front of you. You do not notice it. You do not notice that the music stops. You do not notice a radio playing instead, and the pianist getting up from his stool and walking up beside you.
"One red, Al. No pepper."
Your eyes open wide. You close them again, feeling stiff as a board. A glass clinks on the table.
"Thank you." He takes the drink in one hand, eying it closely. You bite your lip. "Listen Miss, if your ginger ale is flat, you better take it up with Al here!"
"Flat? Of course it's flat! I haven't served up liquor since this damn Prohibition started!"
"Don't use that as an excuse for your shitty ale!" You open your eyes and glance at the pianist just as he glances at you. You are startled. "Sorry, Signorina. It just slipped out." He smiles contently.
"S-Signorina?"
"Miss. It means the same thing." You look down at your drink again, frowning. A few seconds pass. "Would you like some tomato juice?" He holds up his glass to show you the drink. You take a glance at it and look down again, shaking your head.
"I hate tomato juice."
"Hm, at least you're honest." He takes a sip of his drink, and looks at you again. He glances at the way you are dressed. "I've never seen you around here before. You don't happen to be… one of those gals… are you?" You look at him and nod, smiling.
"He must think I'm a movie star."
The pianist smiles, too.
"So what do you want exactly?" You eye the piano, and the pianist again.
"I think it would be nice… if you could teach me…"
"T-Teach you? Well… I…" he says, looking down at his glass, blushing and smiling.
"I know it's a lot to ask considering we just met and all, but... there isn't a person I would rather have be my teacher. I'm a quick learner!"
"Well… um…" He wipes the back of his head with his hand, still blushing. He looks up at Al. "Hey, Al. May I have the rest of the night off?" Al looks at you and the pianist.
"Sure, Hay', SURE…" The pianist smiles. He places the glass on the table and jumps off the stool.
"Well, Flossie. You comin'?" You look at him. His hand is reached out to you. You grab his hand and smile, jumping off the stool. Al waves as you and he leave the bar hand-in-hand.
The pianist takes you to a block a few streets away. He turns a corner and releases your hand. He stops and looks at you with a serious expression.
"Listen Floss', don't hold my hand… not until we get inside…" You smile and nod. The pianist leads you down the block which appears to be an Italian neighborhood. Lights are streamed from one building to the other, as is laundry. You walk to the middle of the block. The pianist turns another corner and walks up stairs. You follow him. He opens the door to an apartment and creeps inside, eying you to follow. You do. Silently. He closes the door. You remove your coat and bonnet. He takes them and places them on a table. He walks and stands directly in front of you. He grabs your hands with his, and looks at you with a smile. "Now then, where shall we begin?" You look over his shoulder at a piano by the window. You let go of his hands. He frowns. You walk over to the piano and sit on a nearby stool. You look at the keys.
"Maybe… we should start out slow…" You frown. The stool turns around to face the pianist, for his foot did as such. He looks at you, one hand behind his back and smiling.
"Slow is alright, but you're not gonna get anything done by just sitting." Your eyes glance for a split second to the side. You smile. You stand up and weasel past him to a nearby bookshelf.
"So I will get us a book to practice with. You've got to have something about music in your…" Suddenly, you trip on a newspaper and fall, landing in the corner of the room. Your hands rest on both sides of your body. You close your eyes, very embarrassed.
"Are you alright?"
You open your eyes. He kneels down in front of you. He looks into your eyes. His expression of concern changes. He closes his eyes and leans in closer to you. His hands move to either side of your legs. He brings his lips to yours, nearly, but instead of letting him kiss you, you lean back and stand up. He opens his eyes and stands, too.
"Flossie…" He takes your arms with his hands, pulling you closer to him. He tries to kiss you again. You lean back. He tries pulling you towards him again. This happens several times. You cannot stand it anymore. You break from his grasp and run out the door, taking your bonnet and coat with you. "Wait! Signorina!"
Tears fall from your eyes. You cannot believe he, of all people, would treat you this way.
It is late. Victoria, Emily, and Mary are listening to music on the radio. You walk into the house quickly, removing your bonnet and coat as your enter. You stop in front of the living room, looking down. Mary looks up at you.
"How was your date, _?"
You cry again and run up the stairs covering your eyes.
"Oh, she's been rejected. How nice…" says Emily with a smile.
"How is this nice, Em? And Mary, what makes you think she was on a date?" asks Victoria.
"Her clothes…"
"Hair…"
"Makeup…"
"Teardrops…"
"They mean nothing! For all you know she could have gone mad! Damn motion pictures…"
"Damn actresses! Damn love! Damn, damn, DAMN!" you exclaim, holding a pillow with both hands and crying on your bed.
Two years pass… it is Nineteen Twenty-Nine… you are nineteen…
"Hey, Al." The pianist walks into the bar, smiling. He sits on a stool by the bar table. The bartender, holding a glass of tomato juice, walks up to the pianist and places the glass in from of him. The pianist looks down at the glass and pushes it away. "You know I haven't touched this drink since…"
"Yes Hayato, I know… I just thought you might want one today…" Hayato sighs.
"A man cannot attain everything he wants in this world through charity… I'm afraid I'm gonna have to pass this time…" Al frowns, taking the glass away from him.
"Maybe… you would care for something harder?"
"Harder? Ha, even if you had alcohol…"
"I do."
"What?" Hayato looks up at Al, shocked. Al pulls out a bottle of whiskey from underneath the counter.
"I just got it in today…"
"Whiskey…"
"Yep." Al pops the bottle open. "The first sip is on the house."
"Where… did you get it?"
"Hayato, don't question where I got it, but from whom…"
"Whom?! Al… no! You were always against this… dirty… filthy business!"
"Times are tough. I was scrappin' everywhere for money, than this damn Crash came and took everything from me. I have no choice! Boss Reborn says if I have his speakeasy here, I won't have to worry about goin' broke! I figure operating here won't be so bad if it's kept undercover, which is why I'm only tellin' you, Hayato…"
"No!" Hayato throws the whiskey glass onto the floor. He stands up. His fists are on the table. "That's not your reasoning! You want me to join in, too!"
"Hayato! My situation is bad, but it certainly is not worse than yours! I'm not telling you to help out, I'm just asking you as a friend! I'm afraid that if you don't work here, you'll be livin' on the streets! Eatin' food from the breadlines! You're a very proud man, Hayato… don't lose this opportunity to make a good living, have a roof over your head, and eat three meals a day…" Hayato looks at Al. He smiles and puts on his hat.
"I might not eat three meals a day, but I won't starve… I might not have a roof over my head, but I won't be cold… I might not make a living, but I will survive… maybe not as a proud man…" He opens the door. "But an honest one." He leaves.
It is the afternoon. Your sisters are listening to the radio downstairs. You are on your bed, humming the melody of "Sunshine." You hear the doorbell ring. You turn your head to the door upon hearing your mother's voice. You get up from the bed and walk to the door. You open it and walk out of your room. You close the door. You walk towards the stairs.
"Sorry to trouble your afternoon ritual Madame, but I'm here in response to your advertisement in the Daily Chronicle…"
"Yes, of course. Please, come in."
"Yes, Madame…"
You walk down the stairs slowly, holding onto the railing gently. You frown. The door closes.
"I would have the servants prepare some teas, but as you can see, I'm running on a very tight schedule and only have time to conduct our interview here, if that is permissible…"
"Yes, Madame."
You stop just a little more than halfway down the stairs. You look at the visitor. Sweat drops fall from your face. Your hands shake. Your throat becomes dry. The visitor removes his hat.
"What are your credentials?"
"Well, I've performed at a local establishment for many years…"
"And?"
"And…" The man looks up at you. He is shocked. His eyes open wide and he frowns. Victoria notices this and glances at you.
"Ah, _! What are you doing outside of your room?" Victoria eyes Hayato. "You'll have to excuse my daughter. She's not that familiar with having people outside of her family and servants in the household."
"I understand…" He continues to look at you. Your eyes tear up and you run up the stairs quickly. He watches as you leave, and glances at Victoria again, frowning. "Anyway, I have also performed with Gene Austin…"
"Gene Austin?" says Betty, listening to the conversation from the living room. She races to Victoria. "Mother, can he please stay with us? Please?" Victoria looks at her daughter and smiles.
"He'll only be a temporary musician, so he won't be staying here… I'm hiring somebody to play at my dinner parties…"
"It doesn't matter! If he's performed with Gene Austin, he's got to be good!"
"I suppose so… you may begin at once. The piano is in our party room to the left."
"Thank you, Madame!" Hayato bows. Victoria and Betty leave. Hayato, frowning, looks up at the stairs. He sighs and takes his suitcase into the party room.
You walk past the party room for every occasion, looking at the pianist. You are still angry at him, and it seems as though his actions mock everything. You do not know it, but he does the same thing to you…
"Bye, Bye Blackbird" plays in your mind…
It is late at night. The last guest of a dinner party just left. You walk down the stairs. You look into the party room. You sigh. You turn off the light in the room and walk inside. You walk over to the piano and sit on the bench. You look down at the piano keys and sigh again, frowning.
"Flossie…"
You look up and at the door. Hayato is standing in the doorway, one hand placed on the wall. His bowtie is undone and he is frowning. Light from the hallway creates his shadow in the room.
"I need to talk to you. Can I come in?" You look at the piano keys again and nod, frowning. Hayato enters the room and closes the door. Only the light from the moon lights up the room. Hayato walks over to the bench and takes a seat next to you. He looks at you considerately. "Signorina… I…"
"There's no need to explain yourself… I know what you've done…"
"Flossie…"
"You treated me as though I was a flapper… you… animal!" you exclaim, looking at him with angry eyes. "And now you're strutting around like nothing happened, ignorant beast!" Hayato looks forward and smiles.
"Ah, so that's what you are thinking…" Hayato begins to laugh. "Ha, ha! And here I thought you were traumatized by the experience, 'stead you're just a typical woman! Ignorant beast! Couldn't you've come up with anything better? Call me a piece of shit! It sounds more fitting! Ha, ha!"
"I knew it! It doesn't mean anything to you! You're womanizing probably 'spands across the globe and only your victims know it!" Hayato laughs even more.
"'Spands across the globe? Honey, I only did it to teach you a lesson…"
"Lesson?! What?" Hayato stops laughing. He looks at you and smiles.
"What were you, eighteen? Just a few weeks prior you ran into me with an apple in your mouth! I tried tracking you down to return it, but… and also, the bar! Did you really think I forgot the gal who nearly ran me over twice?"
"But… my hair…"
"It didn't matter. I was looking at your eyes…" says Hayato, placing his hand underneath your chin. "How could I forget such pretty… _..." He looks into your eyes. You look down, causing his hand to fall from your chin down to his side.
"Why… why did you lead me on like that… if you knew who I was…" Hayato sighs. He faces the keys, and begins to play "Sunshine."
"You're a woman… I was protecting you…"
"How was… nearly raping me protection?!"
"If I hadn't, someone else would've… right?" he says, glancing at you with a smile. You look down and close your eyes. Hayato looks at the keys again. "I was going to tell you, but you ran off before I could get a single word in. I should've known you'd take off like a rocket… that's really my only fault in the matter…" There is complete silence as he finishes the song. He plays the last note, and lifts his fingers from the keyboard. There is a pause. Hayato looks down and frowns. "I stopped drinking tomato juice for two years, simply because it reminded me of you. I kept picturing you in an asylum trying to recover from your experiences. Ha, I guess I was wrong then. Oh, well. I never really cared for the drink, anyway." There is another pause. "I… hope I didn't hurt you too much… Flossie…"
"Mister…"
"Hm?" Hayato looks at you.
"You gave up drinkin' tomato juice because you felt it would be the proper reconciliation for what you did. But… how can it…" Tears fall from your eyes. You look up at him. "How can it make up for all my suffering?! I haven't had the willpower to see anyone after you! My sister… my sister's already married and with child! I haven't got anything to show for myself… ANYTHING! Your little… JOKE, took everything from me! Love was a lie, I tell you! It still is a LIE!" You cry into your hands.
"W-What?" Hayato realizes what you are getting at. He smiles and moves his hand towards your shoulder. He touches it gently. He softly wraps his arms around you. You hug him, too. "There, there… Cara Mia… Roselina…"
"Cara… Mia?" Hayato wipes the tears from your cheeks. He nods.
"Your cheeks grow pale from all this senseless crying, Flossie… please… understand that it isn't all a lie so you can move on with your life…" You expected him to say something more. You stand up and walk to the door.
"You mustn't expect me to take advice from YOU!" you say, as you open the door and storm out, miserable.
A few days later, you are in the living room listening to the radio. "Swanee" is playing. You smile.
"I haven't heard this in a while…". A familiar tune suddenly starts to play in the other room. You turn down the radio. The music gets louder. You turn off the radio completely. You stand up and walk out of the living room. You turn right and slowly open the room to the party room. Hayato is at the piano, playing wonderfully "Rhapsody in Blue." There is a table for food and decorations cover the entire room. Hayato is wearing a suit and bowtie, concentrating on his work. You enter the room slowly. You stand by the door and close it behind you, leaving only a crack open. He does not notice you walk in. You watch his fingers as he plays. They are moving swiftly across the keyboard. He is playing so brilliantly, you can almost picture instruments playing along with him. You smile. You suddenly start to imagine you and he at a party, dancing to the lovely piece together. Everyone around watches as you dance. Lights gleam everywhere. Hayato finishes the piece, and your vision ceases. Hayato looks at you. You smile.
"Splendid…" Hayato smiles.
"Well, it was no Gershwin…"
"Still, it was perfect." You walk up to him. He looks at the piano.
"I thought you were mad at me…"
"Yes… at you, not your music…" You sit next to him on the bench, looking at him. "Promise you'll play another?" Hayato glances at you and smiles.
"Alright, let's make a deal. If you are familiar with the song I'm playing, you must sing the lyrics… okay?" You nod. Hayato begins to play the melody to a song very familiar to you. You smile and laugh, embarrassed at his choice.
"Oh…"
"Go on." He continues to play. You chuckle, and begin to sing in a baby voice "I Wanna Be Loved By You." When the song is finished, you both laugh. "Ha, ha! You could be Helen Kane, you know that?" You blush.
"No! She's much more pretty!" Hayato blushes, too, smiling. "How about you play a song we can both sing to?"
"What would you like me to play?"
"Surprise me." Hayato, smiling, looks at the piano and begins to play "Oh Gee Oh Joy." He sings the first part of the lyrics. Overtime you alternate singing. You continue to have fun, singing as Hayato plays the piano. Sometimes you sing duets as he plays. Without realizing it, evening comes…
Hayato finishes playing "Blue Skies." He plays the last note. You applaud. Hayato removes his hands from the keys and looks down, frowning. You stop applauding.
"Is… something wrong?" Hayato looks at you and nods.
"I've been playing for hours…"
"Yes, and?"
"You've been listening…" You nod. Hayato sighs. "Doesn't it concern you… that you don't even know my name?" You frown. It never really crossed your mind. Hayato looks at the piano and smiles. "I… guess it's foolish of me to worry about something like that, I mean…" He closes his eyes. "I… don't know how it happened… but… I know nearly everything about you…"
"Even my name?"
"Especially your name! As soon as I heard it said the first time, I could not get it out of my head. _, _..." You look down. "And your voice…" You look up. Hayato looks at you. "I've never heard a more pleasant tune uttered from the mouth…" You blush and look down.
"Oh, it's just from music lessons. I couldn't really sing on my own for the life of me!"
"I'm not just talking about your singing voice, but your actual speaking voice! The way you say certain words, like music… it just doesn't seem ordinary to me…" You look up at him.
"You're just pulling my leg. I'm nothing special… I've never been…" Hayato looks into your eyes. He frowns slightly.
"Flossie… are you happy here?"
"No…" You look to the side. "My family… they… treat me as though I'm incapable of accomplishing anything… they say they love me, but I think deep down inside, they wish I was never born…" Hayato frowns.
"Signorina, remember this. Nothing they say or do will ever replace who you are. That is the wonderful thing about being human. You get to make your own decisions. Not based on what your mind tells you. But what your heart says is right. You are you. They are they. Your fate is nothing but your own. Don't ever underestimate your greatness…" You look at him, smiling slightly. "Flossie, I have a few more questions to ask, but first…" Hayato stands up from the bench. He walks over to his suitcase. He pulls out a record, and places it on a phonograph nearby. The record plays Gene Austin's "Blue Heaven." Hayato walks over to you and holds out his hand, smiling. You take it and stand up. You begin to dance with him to the song first introducing you to he. You become entranced by the music. "Flossie…"
"Yes?" You come to. Hayato smiles.
"Are you… happy when you're with me?" You smile.
"Yes… very much so…" There is a pause. The song continues to play.
"Do you… like having me around?"
"I just told you I do."
"So if I asked you if you loved me, you would say yes?" You look up at him.
"I might."
"You might?"
"You haven't asked me yet." Hayato smiles.
"Then… do you love me?"
"I think… I…" The record stops. You and Hayato look at the phonograph. He lets go of you to remove the record. He turns back around to face you, but you start to leave. He grabs your arm.
"Please… don't leave yet…"
"I… have to…" you say, looking down and thinking of your family. Hayato looks down and frowns, letting go of your arm. You leave.
The next day…
You are in the living room, listening to the radio with your family. "Painting the Clouds With Sunshine" is playing. You are thinking about last night. You frown. Suddenly, Hayato walks into the living room. Everyone looks up at him.
"Mister Gokudera…"
"Gokudera?" You look at him. His expression is of seriousness.
"Mister Carnegie, Madame…"
"What is your business here at this unruly hour?" says Victoria. Hayato sighs. He smiles slightly.
"My business is rather important. You see Sir, Madame…" Hayato walks up to you. He smiles and grabs your hand reassuringly. He looks at your parents. "I'm asking for your approval... in I… marrying your daughter…" Your eyes open wide. You did not expect this at all. Your family is just as shocked, if not more. Victoria stands up.
"What makes you think we would allow such a thing to transpire?"
"I'm not asking for your permission, only that you are aware of it, and perhaps will find good in it."
"Certainly not."
"Well then. You know what they think. What do… you have to say?" says Hayato, looking at you and smiling. You blush, taken slightly aback by all that has transpired.
"I… I…" You look down, frowning. "I don't think I could marry you…"
"It's not a question of if you can, but if you will…"
"I…" You look up at him, eyes tearing up. "Can't… and for this…" You look at your parents. You look at him. "I will not be able to… marry you…" Hayato frowns. He slowly releases your hand from his grasp. He looks into your eyes, wondering why you made such a choice. Victoria smiles.
"Well then, she's made her decision. Off with you! Get off this property!" After putting on his coat and hat, Hayato leaves the household. The door closes. "Hmph, that will show him. Seems the man has already started to go mad. I didn't know it was possible."
"Mother, what do you mean?" you ask. She looks at you.
"I fired him last night. Seems no one can afford to attend my parties anymore. It's a shame. I enjoyed having him play for us some evenings…"
"Doesn't he have… money?"
"From what I heard, not a cent. He told me last night that the only way he could make a living now, was to join the military and become one with our men in uniform… ha, ha! He really is at a loss! And to think he had the nerve of asking you to marry him! The indecency of it all is just too much to handle! Lucky for you, you will never see him again." Your eyes open wide. You jump off the couch and run out of the room. You race out the door to where he now is, standing by the gate. You stop in front of him. You look up at him, frowning.
"Why… are you doing this?" Hayato glances at you for a slight second, and faces forward again.
"I could ask you the same question, but… you have your reasonings, therefore so do I…" Hayato takes out a cigarette and begins to smoke. "I'm sure your mother has told you everything…"
"Yes…"
"Then why have you followed me?"
"I… please!" You wrap your arms around him. "I don't want you to join the military!" Hayato turns around and faces you.
"Why?"
"Because I… because I love you!" Hayato tosses his cigarette on the ground. You start to cry. Hayato places his hand underneath your chin.
"Then why won't you marry me?"
"I… they…" Hayato smiles. He wipes the tears off your cheeks with his hand.
"Cara Mia… Roselina…" He closes his eyes, smiling tenderly. "If you really love me… you won't forget… you'll always remember… us…" Hayato pushes your chin up. You close your eyes. He moves his lips to yours and you kiss… the very first… and perhaps… the very last…
He gently moves his lips away from yours. Your eyes remain closed as he departs. You open them a few seconds later, but he is gone… for good. You look everywhere for him. He is nowhere to be found. You weep. Your heart aches. But, as promised…
You do not forget…
You and he…
The memories remain…
In hopes he shall return…
Again…