Author's Note: Basically, I'm kind of obsessed with the 1950s(well, the cars and music; not so much the unequal rights), so this AU was bound to happen eventually. And yes, I am well aware that the mafia is terrible and it is not a good idea to want to join. Seriously, kids. Don't. This shall be my most deserving of an M rating fic ever, so please enjoy the lack of a cursing filter and blatant sex and murder(if you couldn't tell from the title that was originally meant to be a joke, this fic will have at least one scene of explicit smut. Charles help us all).
Anywho, I don't own the main characters of this fic, but there's a hell of a lot of OCs that are the property of myself and Eryn(Child of a Broken Dawn). If you would ever like to use any of them in a fic, please ask first. Now, ONTO ZEE SEX AND VIOLENCE!
March 1, 1954
"So, are you going to actually look for work today?" A young woman asked the young man lying awake in his twin-sized bed, who immediately let out an exasperated sigh.
"I have been working." He said to his sister, who stood with her arms crossed and a stance that threatened foot-tapping.
"Writing silly love poems is hardly working." She argued and crossed to her younger brother's closet, picking out an outfit different from his usual buttoned shirt and leather jacket. "I got you a job interview with a cab company." The sister threw the outfit at her brother's face. "Get dressed." The brother rolled his eyes.
"Lauren, does your fiancé know that he's marrying another drill sergeant?" He asked with an innocent smile.
"Fuck you." Lauren swore as she left him to dress, slamming the door behind her. Lucas sighed, forcing himself up out of bed and giving a disgusted look at the white button-up and paisley sweater that he swore he'd burned the day after his mother had sent it to him.
"I hope you know that I'm never going to get a job looking like a serial killer." He called to his sister as he buttoned up his shirt.
"Are you implying that you will be forever unemployed?" She shot back.
"Ain't you the funny one?" he said through his teeth and pulled the sweater over his head.
"Excuse me, I'm Lucas Beineke. I'm here to see Mr. Mott?" The young man said with uncertainty to the receptionist of a small depot office in the Meat Packing District. The bespectacled, tired-looking woman gave Lucas a weary smile.
"In there." She told him, and pointed to a door just a few feet in front of the young man. He nodded in thanks and continued onwards, walking in on a portly middle-aged man stammering into his telephone.
"I-I told you I would have your money by next week." Lucas briefly wondered if he should retreat back to reception, as it appeared that Mr. Mott was indisposed at the given time. "Thank you so much for your generosity." The man said into the phone before slamming it back into the receiver with unnecessary force. He looked up at Lucas.
"So, you're Lauren's little brother?" He asked, and the much younger man nodded. "Yeah...she's a sweet gal." The company owner falsely complimented.
"No. No, she's not." Lucas corrected him, and a faint smile crossed Mott's grim face.
"No, she's not." He agreed. "But your sister and her fiancé are loyal clients, and she claims that you can drive."
"Yes, Sir; I can." Lucas replied to Mott, who reached into his desk drawer for a pack of cigarettes and a match.
"You ever driven a cab before?" Mott asked as soon as he'd taken his first drag. Lucas shook his head. "Eh, you look like you got an okay head on your shoulders- and it ain't exactly science. Follow me." Lucas followed his apparent new boss out the back door of the office to a small parking lot with two yellow taxis waiting. Mott led the young man to the closest one. "You get Number 858." With a closer inspection, Lucas could see the numerous scratches in the paint, and at least one bullet hole in the passenger side door.
"Nice. '44?" Lucas asked politely.
"'47." Mott corrected his guess. "She's seen better days, but she runs like new." He opened the driver side and pointed to the radio. "Dispatch'll call you on that whenever we need you somewhere. Otherwise, just drive around where people are." Lucas nodded his head in understanding.
"And I keep the meter running at all times?" The trainee asked.
"You got it." Mott reached into his pocket for the keys. "You ain't exactly licensed, so don't get pulled over. Any damage is on you, and I ain't paying for no parking tickets." Lucas nodded. "You get ten bucks a day, plus whatever you make in tips. The rest goes back to the company." Mott placed the keys in his hand. "Good luck, kid."
Lucas stared at the keys for a moment while Mott returned to his office. He would have to make a lot of tips if he was going to ever make any kind of respectable amount, but he had to admit that having a job felt pretty good. With hesitation, he used the cab's side mirror to fix his hair before getting in the cab. Hearing the engine roar to life, he could tell that Mott had at least been honest about the way it ran. He headed out to the street where someone would hopefully try to hail him, switching on the radio to the new music station.
"Well you can have her, I don't want her. She didn't love me anyway. She only wanted someone to play with. But all I wanted was love to stay-" Lucas sang along until he finally was hailed by a redheaded woman outside of a bank.
"Hospital on 5th." She directed him. Lucas nodded and flipped on the meter. Pulling back onto the road, he had an internal debate regarding chatting up the beautiful woman in his car- he figured any other guy in his position would.
"So how's life, Beautiful?" He asked in his best attempt to be suave and cavalier like some Humphrey Bogart. Based on his view from the rearview mirror, it had not worked out well. She smiled; clearly amused.
"Not too bad. My husband got shot, but he's still alive, so I guess it could be worse." The woman said this all with a straight face, so Lucas could do nothing but believe her and widen his eyes. Deciding to not further invade her privacy, he drove the rest of the way in silence, only speaking again when he told her how much he was owed. In fact, he kept this up for the rest of the day.
Returning home to his apartment somehow exhausted stir crazy at the same time, he bounded straight for the kitchen to get a bottle of soda pop.
"How was work?" His sister asked from the kitchen table as she held a cigarette in one hand and turned the page of the daily paper with the other. Lucas popped the top off the bottle with the kitchen counter, earning an angry glare until he picked up the cap.
"It was alright. A little boring, but that's to be expected." He took a swig.
"Daddy called today. Asked if you've changed your mind about coming home, yet." Lucas shook his head and Lauren rolled her eyes.
"You can't just live with me forever, you know." Lauren set down her paper. "For God sakes, all the people I went to school with we're married with a kid by the time they were twenty!" Lucas raised an eyebrow.
"Except for you, huh?" He asked. "Kind of a double standard, don't you think?"
"I do not have a double standard, I have a career and a fiancé." She removed her horn rimmed reading glasses and set them on the table. "If I get married, I lose my job and a man replaces me. It's that simple." Lucas sighed, feeling sympathy for his older sister, but knowing that their society wasn't changing any time soon.
"Hey, do you wanna go out tonight?" He asked, seeing that he'd clearly killed any sort of a good mood that Lauren was capable of being in.
"Can't. I have a telephone call with Hank in a half-hour." She shut him down.
"How romantic." Lucas sarcastically swooned.
"Yes. Yes, it is fucking romantic." She said without another word and put her glasses back on. Lucas rolled his eyes and took his soda into their tiny living room to listen to the news on the radio, since 7:00 meant I Love Lucy on the television.
"-and what a lovely cover by the Crew-Cuts!" The disk jockey commented, and Lucas groaned at missing his current favorite song. "In breaking news, recent organized crime activity has caused the chief of police to release a statement." The broadcaster quickly changed topics, leading into the gruff voice of the NYPD chief.
"We are currently doing everything in our power to ensure the safety of civilians, and we encourage everyone to get car insurance." Was all the man said, causing Lucas to break into a fit of laughter.
"Instead of telling the mob to not steal cars, they just tell people to be insured if it happens. Greedy bastards." He grumbled to himself and shut off the radio. Crossing to the other side of the room to pick a book from the shelf, having already decided mentally on Scarface. Having already read it twice, he made himself comfortable on the couch and began flipping to his favorite parts, all marked with a dog-eared page.
Reading until his eyes began to droop, Lucas eventually forced himself into his room where he stripped down to his underwear and crawled into his tiny bed, letting sleep claim him instantly. Thus beginning a routine that would continue for nearly two months, which saw Lucas grow even more weary with his everyday life with each passing day.
April 28, 1954
"So, I was thinking that maybe we could go see that Marilyn Monroe movie at the theatre?" A young woman asked from bed as a man about her age buttoned up his shirt.
"Why would you want to watch that?" He asked, clearly amused,
"I admire her." The girl admitted and the man scoffed.
"She's just your typical dumb broad, Wednesday." He stated what he thought to be the obvious.
"No, she's really not, Joel." Wednesday argued. "Besides, you like Joe DiMaggio, right?"
"Yeah, but what's that got to do with it?" Joel pressed, wanting her to humor him with her logic.
"He's married to Marilyn, isn't he?" Wednesday referred to the highly publicized celebrity marriage. Joel rolled his eyes and retrieved his pants from the floor.
"Baby, I doubt he married her because she can carry a conversation." Wednesday took a deep breath, not wanting to overtly call Joel a blithering idiot, but not denying that he was being one.
"I'm just saying that you don't know her as a person, so you probably shouldn't make snap judgments about her character." This caused Joel to actually throw his head back as he laughed.
"Yeah. Yeah, okay I'll take you to the stupid movie." He finally agreed, though somehow Wednesday had lost interest in seeing it. Or rather, in seeing it with him. "I'll see you tomorrow night. Lock the door when you leave." Joel bid Wednesday ado with a zip of his fly, and he was out the door. She sighed, slipping out of his bed to shower and get out of his apartment as quickly as possible.
Letting the overly hot water wash away any remnants of her and Joel's latest encounter, she thought briefly if this was really how she was supposed to feel. She figured that she'd loved Joel once and that the old him would eventually come back to her, so she produced the answer of yes. Every couple has rough times, and they would get through theirs. Knowing she was clean, Wednesday stepped out of the shower, wrapped herself in the cleanest towel, and retrieved the dress she'd hung up in the bathroom to steam. Today had been the first day that Joel had ever commented on it, and it had only been to say that she should buy some up-to-date clothes once in a while. No, love didn't just go away. It couldn't.
Though her chin-length black hair was still quite wet, she went into Joel's kitchen to use his phone, hoping that today wasn't one of her butler's shopping days.
"Hello?" The deep voice of her butler greeted her from the other end of the line.
"Hello, Lurch? It's me, Wednesday." She greeted him.
"Do you need a ride?"The butler asked, and she sighed at him always being such a mind reader. It made getting away with things very difficult.
"Yes, I was wondering if you could pick me up at that one gun store in Brooklyn? You know, the one on Gold that has crossbow bolts?" Wednesday had decided long ago that she'd rather not be upfront about her goings-on with Joel, even if Lurch already knew somehow.
"The one near the waterfront, about two blocks from his apartment?" He asked, confirming this.
"Yes, the one right by Joel's place." She sighed, wondering how he always saw right through her. "See you there, Lurch." Lurch grumbled something to himself as she put the phone back on the receiver. Going back into Joel's bedroom, Wednesday changed back into her dress and went to retrieve one thing off the bedside table before making her leave. She commended herself on getting out of there in record time.
Locking the door on her way out, she met eyes with Joel's disapproving landlord, who very often complained about the noise. For the first time, it seemed the middle-aged, balding man had nothing to say. Not even a snide remark on their unmarried status. Feeling overly confident, Wednesday smiled at the man.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Reilly." She greeted him as she passed to the stairwell, laughing as soon as she heard him mumble something about kids these days- and hussies. Though only a block or two away, Wednesday hurried to the gun store, wanting to buy some bolts to avoid Lurch questioning her.
But just as she was about to dash across the street to the store, a yellow cab came flying around the corner, nearly taking her out and causing her to jump backwards about three feet.
"Maniac!" She yelled, noted that the number was 858, and continued to the store.
The rule here is that we can understand Lurch if he isn't around people that can't understand him. This was previously used by Eryn in her fanfic of a fanfic.
Do I have to beg? Because I'll beg. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF CHARLES GIVE ME A REVIEW! Happy?