In 1933, thirty-three men met each other for dinner; dining in the most expensive restaurants in New York. It wasn't long before they themselves had opened an exclusive club themselves.
Once the word of this new club, dubbed 33 by the citizens of New York, it soon became an invitation only event. The high-class citizens, the ones who could put their grandchildren, if not great-grandchildren through college, were able to get in with a simple phone call and a membership card.
It's gained success has come to the point where the wait list is years long, people having their names on from the moment they turned 18, the age limit due to the smokers of the city. The price of the membership had become so expensive it was almost as if the patrons had to give up their first born just for admittance. But once they were through the royal red door, the first-born wasn't close to being enough.
Karen Delaney walked into the place dressed up to the nines, as per dress code. Her black shoes went along with her grey pants and matched her black blouse. Her dark hair was swept up into a 50's hairstyle: her hair had been curled and placed into a bun allowing a few tendrils to frame her face. And her light make up which was eyeliner and bright red lipstick made the entire thing seem less exquisite than it seemed to be.
Already, for the restaurant being open for nearly ten minutes, people were milling around, the chatter volume already a light roar. She smiled at the man who took her coat, at the woman who offered her a glass of champagne, and at the small man waiting for her at the top of the stairs.
"Beverly Leslie," She said her voice laced with shock and pleasure.
"Karen Walker," He said before kissing each of her cheeks. "It's been a while."
"Only a few months," She said as she propped herself against the wooden banister over looking the entrance foyer, her eyes scanning the people who had just been let through the door. "And I'm not Mrs. Walker any more."
"My condolences," Beverly remarked, his voice teasing, his words sarcastic. Karen couldn't help but smile. Once again her attention was on the people entering the club, her cheeks warmed instantly at one of the men. "You still look at him the same way."
Karen tore her eyes from the group below to the little man next to her, narrowing her eyes. He simply shrugged and slowly looked back to the group below. She shook her head at the sudden collection of thoughts that plagued her mind. It wasn't right. It was months ago, not days, not years; she was over this.
She spun around from the balcony, her dress following her movements; gaining attention from the man downstairs. Karen had missed the looks passing between Beverly Leslie and the man she wished to have forgotten, but alas to no avail; he plagued her thoughts.
Moments later Karen entered an elegant room, dressed in white, decorated in gold. From her brief history of the place it had been the Lounge Alley, the maroon colored couches and the maroon-sitting chair in the corner. It was the room between the hallway and the dinning room. Knowing this emptiness was only temporary she took advantage of it and dropped into the chair, her hand covering her face.
This couldn't be happening to her. Of all places, of all people, he decided to come here on her birthday? They had been there a few times, in fact met on her birthday unbeknownst to him, but still this is where they met. And she should have said no when he asked her out, she have said no to the drinks he offered to buy her; it was a disaster and she knew it.
"Mrs. Walker?" An older lady questioned from standing in the doorway. She too was dressed in black. Her white hair short enough not needed to be put up. Karen stood motioning to the couch, sitting next to the woman. "It's been along time since I've seen you around these parts."
"Just a few months," Karen tried. The older woman shook her head, smiling. "Alright a year almost, but I've been busy."
"Taking up that gentleman's offer I hope," Karen's eyes fell from the older woman's to her hands. "Oh Karen, don't let a little job get in your way."
"You know about that?"
"Darling, all of New York knows about that." A bell chimed and a maître'd appeared in the doorway leading to the dinning room. "Ah well time for dinner." With the assistance of Karen and the woman's cane, she was on her feet. She turned slightly, placing her hand on Karen's cheek. "Go on out there. Let him know that, the man on his arm won't make him half as happy as you did. And blame me for it too,"
Karen smiled at the woman, hiding the shock of the new information she just received. New man on his arm? Karen hurriedly walked back to her perch of the balcony, Beverly Leslie was gone, and there weren't very many people gathered around. She looked down and caught a glimpse of red entering the elevator. She turned and waited for the elevator to pass by her, wanting to catch a glimpse of who this woman or man could possibly be.
The elevator in deed pass by her and there he was. He was standing with a lighter haired man in the corner of the elevator. She stopped breathing when his hazel eyes fell upon hers before disappearing up to the next level. She spun around and dropped down on to the small bench next to the elevator. She never felt like this. It wasn't right.
Another bell chimed and a man appeared to her left offering her arm. Karen took it, pleased that if he was in the room she'd have someone or something to hold onto, instead of falling to the floor. And alas there he was a level above her being seated with the man, the red head she saw entering into the elevator and the blue-eyed prince she saw hovering by the door when she arrived.
"Mrs. Walker?" Karen was about to put a forkful of salad into her mouth when she was met with a gorgeous pair of blue eyes. "My name is Jack. Jack McFarland and I just want to tell you, you look gorgeous."
Karen smiled, setting down her fork and nodded her head. "Thank you, honey."
"My friend over there, the red head sent me over," Jack said nodding his head in the direction of his table. It was only the red head sitting there. "She would like to meet you,"
"Of course." Karen pushed her chair out and took Jack's offered arm. He helped her up the stairs and over to the table.
The red head woman looked like a deer in the headlights when Karen approached the table. Her bright green eyes filled with shock that one of the most famous women of all of New York was standing in front of her.
"Oh my god," She said, nearly spitting out her water. "You're Karen Walker,"
"Yes I am." Karen said lowering herself into Jack's offered seat. "Or I was."
"I heard about that. How awful." Karen smiled shyly at the woman. "It's a shame that your husband suspected you of infidelity when it was him all along."
Karen knew he was there before Grace squealed and pointed her out. He was standing there dressed in dark colors, his tie the same color and his hair; long. "Will this is Karen Walker,"
Will looked down at her, offering his hand to shake. She did so before moving onto the man who was standing next to him with a plateful of food. "And you are?"
"Michael Potter ma'am." He said taking her hand, bringing it up to his lips and kissing it. Karen smiles at the man before pulling her hand back and laying it in her lap.
Things should never be so hard.