Notes: Do I need to start something new? No, I don't. But, I'm not inspired to work on any of my wip's but actually have motivation to write. Maybe it's better to write what my brain says to write, instead of just staring stupidly for hours at a half finished chapter of something I'm not feeling right now.

I have a working knowledge of this era but am by no means an expert. I've tried to keep most things era appropriate, but it's fanfic so some liberties have been taken. You can expect a blend of canon locations and elements mixed with references to the southern United States, though I've chosen to keep specific geography vague.


Prologue


Rain pelted the windshield and rattled the canvas top of the Marmon Speedster, the road ahead a narrow, muddy orange river in the headlights. Beside him, the young woman turned sideways in the seat to watch for headlights behind them. In her lap, the gun trembled above spangled fabric, her grip on it tight and ready to fire.

This was their last, best chance for escape. There was no turning back.

"We'll be okay," he promised. "It's not much further."

She nodded and her free hand sought his in the darkness. Her fingers were damp and cold in his grip, but he squeezed back, making a silent promise to see this through to the end. He didn't need words when he had this. This was all he needed. To hell with everything else.

The car skidded in the mud, the wheels struggling to find purchase. He stepped on the gas and steered it out of the rut, holding his breath until rubber met road again. These conditions were not ideal for driving, and even worse for escape, but it could work in their favor. Visibility was poor, but no doubt, their pursuers were just as hampered by the washed out roads as he was.

She tensed and turned fully around in her seat, lifted the gun, and uttered a soft curse. He glanced in the side mirror and echoed her swear.

"You could tell them I kidnapped you," he said. "It's not too late. You'd be safe."

"No," she said with conviction. "You and me. Like we promised."

He sighed and a great sorrow filled his heart. Regret that they would not get more time together. He hadn't meant to get her involved.

"We're not going down without a fight," she said. "Keep going, okay? No matter what happens, you keep going until you can't go anymore."

He nodded and stomped the gas as the pursuit vehicle's lights drew closer. There was a pop, then a second, a third. Something hit the back end – a bullet – and he pressed the gas pedal to the floor.

"Get down and stay down," he ordered.

She didn't obey. She went up on a knee and fired at the approaching vehicle through the back window. The blast was deafening. The glass in the side mirror shattered and he swerved to avoid the incoming rounds. Bullets peppered the back of the car, and the scent of rain filled the cab.

More shots. Pop, pop, pop. His hands tightened around the steering wheel and he said a silent prayer. They were almost there.

Up ahead, the bridge was underwater. The creek had overflowed. Fast, rushing water spilled across the road, taking with it chunks of rocks and downed bits of trees.

There was nowhere to go. Forward was a death sentence. Back was death by firing squad.

He slowed the speedster ahead of the rushing current. There was no chance of making it to the other side alive. The current was too strong.

This was it.

He looked to her and she looked back. Her eyes were round with fear, but she reached for him, pressed a kiss to his lips and said:

"Step on it."


One


Rinoa looked up from her novel at the sound of a car coming up the oak-lined drive, squinted through the bars of the porch railing, and sighed at the sight of Seifer's brand-new Marmon Speedster gleaming in the afternoon sun. He hadn't stopped talking about the thing since he got it two weeks ago, and while she thoroughly enjoyed racing down the road in a fancy new breezer with the wind in her hair, his boasting had grown a little stale.

She also didn't like that he chose to show up in the middle of the day unannounced like this. Three dates, and he already thought he owned her? She hoped not.

He was the first young man she'd really liked in a long time. He actually had personality, even if he was a touch too arrogant around his peers. There was something feisty and charismatic about him, a fire that all the others seemed to lack.

Seifer Almasy was charming, clean-cut, smart, funny, and confident, and that particular assortment of qualities didn't usually come packaged together. Especially not in a man who also happened to be deliciously handsome, tall, and seemingly well-off.

Perhaps his unannounced arrival was a sign of spontaneity. Spontaneity could keep the relationship interesting.

He honked that obnoxious horn he loved so much as he slowed to a stop under a Spanish moss draped oak and lifted a hand to wave. Rinoa set her novel aside, stood, and smoothed down the fabric of her pale blue day dress as he climbed out, hoping that she didn't look like she'd been sweating to death all afternoon out here on the porch. Even if that was exactly how she'd spent the majority of her day.

"Heya, doll-face," he greeted and mounted the steps, two at a time. "Fancy a ride?"

A ride would certainly dry the sheen of sweat on her limbs and take the edge off the heat, but she wasn't dressed for an outing, back roads or otherwise. She wanted to read and melt into a puddle right there on the porch without distraction.

And what a distraction he was. His big, broad smile brought a flush to her cheeks that had absolutely nothing to do with the temperature.

"I shouldn't," she said. "My father isn't home."

"He won't mind if you're with me," Seifer said.

"Just because he likes you doesn't mean you can just abscond with me any time it tickles your fancy," she teased.

"You make it sound like I'm trying to steal you," he said.

"Aren't you?" she threw back.

Seifer grinned and moved closer.

"Maybe I am," he said.

He took both of her hands, still smiling impishly, and leaned down to press his lips against hers. Rinoa gave herself three seconds to enjoy the softness of his mouth, to enjoy the thrill of a stolen kiss before she was forced to push him away.

Not that she wanted to, but any one of the many household staff could see and report back to her father. That was the absolute last thing she needed.

Her father was already on her case about everything, from her choice of friends to what she read, to how much she ate of what, and what time she came home. She didn't need to be accused of behaving like a loose floozy, on top of all that.

That would inevitability lead to a lecture. A girl as smart and capable and attractive as she was should have no problem finding a marriageable suitor. Another year or two, and she would be an old maid who would be a burden on her widowed father for the rest of his days. And how was she supposed to find a suitable husband if she ran around town with young men and women of questionable backgrounds? She'd heard it a thousand times.

Maybe that was why her father liked Seifer. Seifer was rock-solid upper-class, or so he appeared. Rinoa had never asked about where he got his money. She, like her father, assumed he came from a good family based on the way he behaved and dressed, not to mention, the extremely expensive toy parked on her lawn. Seifer Almasy was everything a future father-in-law hoped for in a match for his daughter.

Something about that stirred up feelings of rebellion in her. If her father liked him, something must be off.

"Just a quick drive," Seifer said. "I'll have you back before anyone knows you're gone."

"I can't," she said. "But you're welcome to visit out here. Would you like some lemonade?"

He seemed cross for a second, but then sat on the porch swing and stretched out like he owned it.

"Come sit next to me," he said.

"You know I can't."

She returned to the wicker chair by the rail and sat primly on the edge of the cushion. There was a long beat of silence while Seifer basked in the sweltering heat.

What could they talk about to fill the silence?

"You haven't introduced me to your family yet," she said, after wracking her brain for a topic to discuss. "Will I get to meet them?"

"Play your cards right and you might," he said and smiled that easy smile. "It's not every girl I take home to meet my mother, you know."

Seifer knew her father professionally, though what her father's job had to do with him, Rinoa didn't know. Fury Caraway worked for the Justice Department as a top general in the fight against bootlegging and illegal sale of alcohol. Maybe, their families just ran in the same circles and knew each other socially.

"After three dates, you'd think I'd have already met her," Rinoa said. "Especially since you and my father are thick as thieves these days."

"What father wouldn't want a guy like me courting his daughter?"

"Well, well," Rinoa said, only half teasing. "Don't be modest or anything. And who said anything about courting?"

Seifer just smiled and buffed his manicured fingernails on his rolled up sleeve.

"Is that what you're up to?" Rinoa asked. "Because I've heard otherwise."

"Oh, have you?" he asked and narrowed his eyes. "Do tell."

"Everyone's saying you're a cad," Rinoa said lightly, her tone verging on flirtatious. "That you'll break my heart and be onto the next gal within a week."

His smile was enigmatic, but he didn't get a chance to answer. Her father's Ford Model T rolled up beside the breezer and they both stood to greet him.

Caraway seemed unusually pleased and bounded up the steps, his hand outstretched to shake Seifer's.

"Good to see you, son," Caraway said.

"I appreciate you taking the time to see me today, Sir," Seifer said easily.

Rinoa wanted to ask why Seifer wanted to see her father in the middle of the afternoon. He couldn't possibly be thinking of doing something foolish like asking permission to marry her. Three dates for some people was as good as an engagement, true enough, but Rinoa was not ready for that. Not with Seifer, or with anyone else.

"Let's go inside," Caraway said. "Rinoa, why don't you see about getting us some lemonade?"

Caraway didn't wait for her answer. He ushered Seifer inside the house, making small talk about the heat, as if summer in the south wasn't always miserable. Rinoa trailed behind, both relieved and flustered over this development.

She knew one thing. Seifer had known she would say no to taking a drive. He wouldn't have asked if she was sure to say yes. It would have interfered with whatever was going on in her father's office.

How very sneaky and calculatung of him.

What was he up to?

In the kitchen, she filled two glasses with lemonade and ferried them to her father and his guest, both of whom ignored her like she was one of the housekeeping staff.

Irked by her father's dismissal, Rinoa stormed upstairs to her room to ponder her potential reaction to a proposal of marriage at this stage in their relationship.

It was too soon. People would talk. They would assume she'd gotten knocked-up like some back-alley Sally, and Seifer was trying to do the right thing and make an honest woman of her.

She tried to picture it. Her life as a domestic woman, as someone's wife. Cooking and cleaning and directing the house staff while she prepared for afternoon tea with the Women's Temperance Committee. Pretending to be interested in the latest gossip and fielding questions about when they planned to start their family. Children were a blessing. Bearing a whole litter her duty as a woman.

One of her school friends already had two children, less than a year apart. The poor girl seemed so miserable and tired and so disappointed in her situation. The children were cute, but to Rinoa, they also looked like a pair of manacles, shackling her to a life and a role that she was not yet ready to face.

She flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling until she heard their voices carry up from the foyer. Pleasantries, polite laughter, then her father called her name.

Grudgingly, she got up, arranged herself back into something presentable and took her time descending the stairs. Seifer smiled appreciatively and Rinoa's ire quieted. Even in the dim light, his eyes were bright and warm.

She supposed it wouldn't be so bad, to be married to a man like him. She could do a lot worse.

At the bottom of the stairs, Rinoa took note of her father's tired eyes and the distinct scent of alcohol bleeding from his pores.

Hypocrite, she thought.

"Before I forget," Seifer said, "I've made reservations for dinner at the Esthar Hotel tomorrow night at eight for the three of us."

Rinoa glanced at her father, and then back to Seifer.

Well, well. He was going all out, wasn't he? The Esthar Hotel's restaurant was the best in the county by far, and both expensive and upscale. But dinner with Seifer and her father was bound to be uncomfortable and boring. They'd spend all evening talking about politics and the endless fight against the demon alcohol. Her lady-opinions would be ignored or scoffed at, so she would spend the entire meal being seen and not heard.

"I appreciate the offer," her father said, "but I'll have to decline. You kids have fun without me."

"I won't take no for an answer," Seifer said. "We'd love to have you there."

"I'm afraid I'd only be a third wheel," her father said. He patted Seifer's shoulder. "Be sure to have her home by midnight."

"Yes, Sir," Seifer said. "Not a minute later."

Rinoa's insides quivered as Seifer smiled rakishly and winked.

It only occurred to her belatedly, they both just assumed she'd agree to a fourth date.


Selphie Tilmitt charged up the stairs toward Rinoa's bedroom, calling out a cheerful greeting to Mr. Caraway on the way up, and burst into her friend's room without knocking. She held up a battered leather traveling bag and shook it in front of Rinoa's bewildered face.

"You're going out tonight," Selphie announced.

"You really think my father will allow me to go out after dark?' Rinoa asked. "With you?"

"That was three years ago!" Selphie said. "Talk about holding onto a grudge."

"You drove his car into the creek," Rinoa reminded her, "and left me ossified on the front porch. I threw up on his shoes. You have only yourself to blame if he thinks you're a bad influence."

Selphie giggled and plopped onto the bed. That had been a good night. And so what if maybe Selphie had been arrested once or twice over silly things? This town was full of uptight prudes who hated fun.

She tugged down the edges of her olive green turban to hide the biggest part of her surprise, and made doe eyes at her friend.

"Dont'cha even wanna know where we're going?"

"I afraid to ask," Rinoa said. "And before you say anything, I'm not interested in going to a rub. I'm not a baby."

"We're too old for all that," Selphie said. She elbowed Rinoa in the side. "Pair of old maids like us."

Rinoa frowned and she turned her head toward the window, where the light was steadily fading from the day. Something was off about her friend. Rinoa was usually a lot more enthusiastic about potential criminal mischief than this.

"What's got you all balled up?" Selphie asked. "Your Pops on your case again?"

Rinoa shrugged.

"It's a lot of things," Rinoa said.

"That sounds like a good excuse to climb out your window tonight and go blow off some steam," Selphie said. She opened the bag, hoping to tempt Rinoa with what was inside. "Wearing this!"

Selphie held up a pale blue dress covered in shiny sequins and beaded fringe with one hand, and in her other hand, presented Rinoa a pair of matching kitten heeled t-straps.

"Ta-da!"

Rinoa blinked at the shimmering dress.

"What is this?"

"A dress, silly," Selphie said. "And you're gonna wear it."

"Where would I wear this?" Rinoa asked. She took the dress and held it against her body. "It's indecent."

Selphie stood up, whipped off her cape and hat to reveal her new look. She gave a little shimmy, causing the feathered fringe at the hem of her sheath of a dress to flutter around her thighs, and her new, short, flipped-out bobbed haircut to bounce.

Rinoa's face registered shock at the sight of Selphie's once-long locks sheared off to just below her ears.

"Say something, Rin," Selphie said. "Don't just stare like I grew a pair of horns."

"What did you do?" Rinoa asked breathlessly.

"Dont'cha like it?"

"It's... drastic."

"That's the point!" Selphie said. "And anyways, I'll fit right in."

"Where? A flop house?"

"The Speakeasy!" Selphie cried.

Rinoa stiffened and laid a finger over her lips.

"We don't say that word in this house," Rinoa said. "Especially not so loud."

Selphie flopped back on the bed and sprawled out with her arms flung over her head. This was not going as well as she expected.

"Please go with me, Rin. We're going to have so much fun!" Selphie said. "Besides, I want you to meet my new guy."

"At a Speakeasy."

"He owns the place, so we'll be well looked after," Selphie said. "There's going to be a band, and dancing, and good looking boys... and drinks..."

"Do you know how much trouble I'll be in if someone recognizes me?" Rinoa asked.

Selphie grinned and reached for her bag again. From inside, she produced a short, bobbed blonde wig and a beaded headband with a feather.

"Problem solved," Selphie said. "A little make-up and no one will know it's you."

"This is a terrible idea."

"I know," Selphie said, impish and grinning.

Rinoa accepted the wig and pulled it down over her head. Strands of dark brown hair stuck out from underneath. Selphie tucked them under and noted that Rinoa didn't look terrible as an ice blonde. It wasn't quite her color, but she could pull it off. The lighting in Irvine's joint was dim enough that no one would notice anyway.

"So, are you in?" Selphe asked.

Rinoa smiled and ran her hands over the dress again. Her melancholy resolved itself into something a little more familiar.

"Of course I am."


Notes pt 2: The disguise was Silentstarlight's suggestion.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated! Helps me stay motivated!