Part 1: The Librarian
Belle thought that picking a lock would be easier. Well, not easier, exactly… just that she figured that she was prepared to do it more quickly. After all, she had read the section on the subject in Practical Locksmithing by Jefferson Hatter so many times that she had it committed to memory. (She had finally returned the book to its rightful place in Section 683 before closing up the library several hours ago.)
But that studying had taken place in the comfort of her cozy apartment, with her cat in her lap and a hot cup of tea nearby. Somehow the experience was different in the darkened hallway of The Blue Moon nightclub, where she was under pressure to break into the owner's office (a) without anyone noticing and (b) before she was missed on the floor. Ariel, the club's headliner, had just started her set a few minutes ago. In Belle's month working at the club, she noticed that her sales weren't as heavy while the audience was enraptured with Ariel's performance. It was Christmas Eve, too, and almost everyone at the club had been happily imbibing all evening. Hopefully no one would notice that the cigarette girl had disappeared for a little while.
The tumblers finally gave way. Quickly glancing in both directions down the hallway to make sure the coast was still clear, she slowly turned the knob, pushed the door open, and quietly closed it behind her. Belle allowed herself to breathe a little sigh of relief as she started to look around the dimly-lit office, her gaze immediately on the desk and bookcase in the opposite corner of the room. Where should she begin to look? Where would Jones keep the kind of information she was looking for? She wasn't even sure what she was looking for, if she was being honest with herself.
"I was wondering when you'd finally get that door open, dearie."
Putting her hand over her mouth to stifle a yelp of surprise, Belle spun around to find one of the club's familiar patrons in the corner behind the door.
"Mr. Gold? What are you doing in here?" She asked in an urgent, but hushed, tone.
Gold kept his voice low, as well. "I might ask the same of you, Miss Bennet. I wasn't aware that Jones's office doubled as a stockroom for cigarettes. Don't get me wrong—I'd much rather see you than him, especially given the circumstances."
Belle paused a bit, as she often did at the hearing someone call her by her alias, but quickly recovered. "The circumstances of you breaking into this office?"
"And what was that fiddling about with the lock? Not exactly the sound of someone who is supposed to be here."
"Well, we can't all be experts in the art of picking locks."
Gold gave her a self-satisfied smirk. "Ah, but there's no need to pick the lock when you can bribe a member of the cleaning staff for the key."
"I'm beginning to think that Jones doesn't run the tightest ship around here."
That remark changed Gold's smirk to a real smile. "Obviously."
Belle smiled back at Mr. Gold. In her guise as "Lizzie Bennet", she was a cigarette girl at The Blue Moon, a sophisticated nightclub in Downtown Los Angeles. It was part of her job to be charming with the customers. Just as with the false name, she thought of the charm as part of the role she was playing. When it came to Mr. Gold, though, her charm and wit seemed to flow more easily. She felt more like "Belle" than "Lizzie" around him. She genuinely enjoyed talking with him on the occasions that they'd had the opportunity to have a few minutes' conversation. He was somehow different from most of the regular guests, many of whom were cronies of Killian Jones, the club's smarmy owner. For one thing, Mr. Gold was intelligent. For another thing, he didn't leer at her or talk to her in the patronizing tone used by many of the male customers. Mr. Gold seemed honestly interested in what she was saying when they spoke.
Shaking her head, Belle brought herself back to the present moment, and to the strange situation in which she found herself. Yes, she enjoyed talking to Mr. Gold…but how much did she trust him? They had caught one another breaking and entering, so she wasn't worried that he would snitch on her. But how much did she want to tell him about the reason she was here?
For some reason, her instinct told her that she could trust him. Maybe if she told him a little about her story, he would tell her a bit of hers. Maybe they could help each other.
"I'm looking for my friend, Anna."
She noticed that his eyes widened ever-so-slightly. So slightly that it could have been a trick of the light. She'd thought many times that they were nice eyes: wide and brown.
"I know that Mr. Jones is probably hiding many things in this office, but I don't think a woman is one of them."
Belle rolled her eyes. "Wow, you're a funny guy. I'm looking for information that could lead me to my friend. She was working here when she disappeared a few months ago. I've been trying to find out if there's some connection to one of Jones' associates. I thought maybe if I could take a look through his papers, there could be a lead."
Mr. Gold looked as if he was trying to decide how to respond, when the sound of footsteps got increasingly louder outside. Belle's eyes went wide. This area was usually quiet during the show. Gold put a finger to his lips, an unnecessary gesture, since Belle was pretty sure she was speechless in fear at the moment. She instinctively moved closer to Mr. Gold until she was right up against his side. The steps seemed to come right up to the door. She glanced desperately around the office, and wondered if they could both fit under the big desk across the room. It could work—neither one of them was very tall.
Miraculously, though, the steps suddenly retreated back down the hall. Soon it was quiet once again, and the only sounds Belle could hear were her own thudding heartbeat and the muffled sound of Ariel singing a spirited "Winter Wonderland" out front. She and Gold stood stone still for what felt like an eternity, making sure that the steps didn't return.
Darn it. She hadn't even had a chance to look around, but she felt like it wasn't safe to stay in here any longer.
"Miss Bennet, I believe we should take that as a sign that it's time to go." The whispered words were warm against her temple.
"Miss French."
"Excuse me?"
She turned her head and looked up into his eyes. "My real name is Belle French. In case something happens when we open that door, I thought you should know."
His lips quirked into the faintest smile. "Now that we've been properly introduced, shall we, Miss French?" He gestured towards the door.
As luck would have it, the hallway was empty when they slowly opened the door and made their way back towards the main room. They came to the intersection of another hallway that lead to the dressing rooms, and Belle retrieved her tray of wares from under the tablecloth-covered table that she'd left it under.
Mr. Gold nodded and turned to leave, but Belle put a staying hand on his arm and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. "We still need to talk. Meet me at Granny's Diner in an hour. You know where that is?"
She finally seemed to have rendered him speechless. He nodded again in the affirmative. Belle fastened the strap attached to the tray around her neck, and once again became Lizzie, purveyor of cigarettes. She would have to invent some excuse to leave a little early.
Looking back over her shoulder as she headed back to the floor, she smiled at him. "I'll see you there?"
He smiled back. "I wouldn't miss it…Miss French."
