*Chapter 2*

"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaurant filled with odd little waiters who bring you things you never asked for and don't always like."

-Lemony Snicket

Bellamy Blake didn't mean to be at the speakeasy. He usually hated those places, full of cigarette smoke and drunk people always asking him to dance. It wasn't really his style. All he wanted was a glass of whiskey and to get his work done, but if he was being honest that didn't sound like something that would happen. Speakeasies tended to make you do things that you wouldn't usually do. It might have been the constant risk of being caught with alcohol at an illegal bar or just the music that was always floating through the air. Either way, Bellamy knew it wasn't a safe place to be. But like I mentioned before, he didn't mean to be at the speakeasy. It just sort of happened.

Bellamy could feel the music even before he entered the bar. It was shaking the floor of the empty shoe store, making it feel like he was in the middle of a mini earthquake. Being a private investigator, who got put on cases to shut down speakeasies all the time, he knew that if this club didn't want to get caught they should turn down their music. But in that moment, Bellamy didn't really care. Because the alcohol was calling to him and the thrill of doing something wrong for once rushed through him like lightning.

He glanced behind him, making sure no one was watching through the glass front of the store, as he felt along the wall for the secret door that would open the panel in the wall. The thump of the club was even louder there, making Bellamy's nerves jump all over the place. It took him a second before he finally found the panel and pulled it open, revealing a narrow passage leading to a big oak door.

With one last deep breath, Bellamy entered the dark hallway and pulled the panel shut behind him, shrouding everything in shadows. He walked steadily to the oak door, braced himself for the chaos behind it, then quickly pulled it open. He always thought it was easier to do things quickly like that. Like ripping off a bandaid or pulling the trigger on a gun. It made the pain swift and the relief sudden.

But it was hard to be prepared for the holy mess that was a speakeasy. This one in particular was filled to the breaking point. Men and women all dressed to the nines, flooded the rather small, circular club. At the front of the room was a small stage with a piano and a man crooning into the microphone, while people danced along. At the edge of the circle was a bar that was surprisingly empty of people. Bellamy was filled with relief. He didn't hesitate before slipping through the dense crowd, towards the shining bottles of illegal liquor.

"What can I get, ya?" the bartender asked as Bellamy sat down. Compared to the front of the room, the bar seemed much quieter, giving Bellamy's mind room to think.

"Whiskey." he answered, absentmindedly pulling out his work. The life of a private investigator didn't allow much room for fun. There were cases to be sorted through and research to be done. Not to mention the police reports that had to be written for every crime scene that Bellamy had ever witnessed. It was difficult work but it was worth it.

The bartender set a glass down on the bar in front of him then looked Bellamy over. He looked amused, staring at the pen in his hand and the crime report that was only partly written.

"I'm not an expert or anything, but I'm pretty sure bars are meant for relaxing." the bartender said, leaning against the bar and pouring the dark whiskey into the cup. Bellamy quickly glanced up but continued writing, trying to recall the exact details of the crime scene he had witnessed earlier that week.

"I don't have time for relaxing." Bellamy sighed, taking a gulp of whiskey. The familiar burn as it went down his throat felt good. It had been a while since he had had a drink. Especially since the Prohibition law was just passed.

"I see." The bartender nodded, studying Bellamy more closely. "I've seen plenty of your kind around here." Now Bellamy was interested.

"My kind?" He asked, setting down his pen and forgetting his report. It was pretty crappy anyway.

"A businessman. But not in the way you might think. Someone who works hard for what they have and doesn't take anyone's shit. You're a leader."

It was true. Ever since he was a kid, Bellamy had been someone to look up to. He had good grades in school and plenty of friends. He had his whole life planned out and nothing was stopping him from getting what he wanted. Although, his childhood did have a few bumps in the road. But he didn't like thinking about that.

"Something is different tonight, though." The bartender continued, refilling my glass and wiping down the counter. "There's a reason you're here tonight. You say it's the alcohol or the party but there's something else. Something you can't quite put your finger on."

"And what exactly brought me here tonight then?" Bellamy asked, trying to hold in a laugh. Whatever the bartender was spewing, Bellamy wasn't buying it. He may have been right at first but now he just sounded insane.

"Do you believe in fate, Mr. Blake?" The bartender asked, leaning closer now and lowering his voice.

"Not particularly." Bellamy replied, wondering how the bartender knew his name.

"Of course not. They never do." The bartender sighed, almost to himself. "Well, get back to your work then."

Bellamy raised his eyebrows and waited for the bartender to say more but he didn't, returning to his spot at the other end of the bar. That was odd, thought Bellamy turning back to his police report and taking another swig of whiskey. He tried to focus on the paper in front of him but the words went in one ear and out the other. He was about to blame it on the alcohol or the too loud music but the bartender's words came back to him. Maybe destiny had led Bellamy to the speakeasy that night. The idea was ridiculous and hopeful all at once. What did fate have in store that night?

"What the hell are you doing?" a voice said suddenly from behind Bellamy. He spun around to see a girl staring at him with a teasing smile and her hands on her hips.

"Huh?" he asked after a second, not able to take his eyes away from the girl in front of him. She was gorgeous, with red tinted lips and blonde hair that hung in ringlets around her shoulders. She was wearing heels that made her even more menacing and a sparkling dress that looked like a star compared to the dense sea of people. It was easy for Bellamy to say that she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

"I don't know if you noticed, but there's a whole party going on around you." the girl said, smiling at the people around her. "And you're just sitting here, doing what exactly? Writing a paper?"

Bellamy glanced at his police report, sitting untouched on the bar. The girl reached over and took it, her blue eyes scanning the paper quickly. When she looked back at him, she looked amused.

"A murder, huh?" she smirked, "I'm sorry but that has to be the most morbid thing I have ever seen! What's the point of coming to a club if you aren't going to have a little fun?"

"I have work to do." Bellamy replied, lamely. It did seem a bit dumb now that he thought about it. What was his real reason for coming to the speakeasy? Once again, the idea of fate popped into his mind like an annoying fly.

"Well sir, I'm dedicated to making sure everyone who enters this place is having fun, and I'm almost one hundred percent sure that you aren't." the girl laughs, folding the paper and throwing it back onto the bar. "What do you say to dancing with me?"

Bellamy's head began to spin. He had danced with girls before and done more with girls before, but something felt different this time around. A beautiful girl was asking him to dance and for once he was speechless. He was starting to think that luck was what got him there, not fate.

"Uh, sure." he said, after a minute of tense silence. The girl squealed with delight before grabbing his hand and pulling him through the crowd and towards the dance floor.

Being inside the crowd was much different than circling around it. It was hotter and louder and you could feel the adrenaline pumping through each and every person. All of Bellamy's doubts faded away and he finally started to feel happy. He couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face.

"There you go!" the girl laughed, yelling over the music. Instead of the man and the piano on stage, there were three girls in matching dresses who were singing a fast tune about something Bellamy couldn't quite understand. It was thrilling and so unlike anything Bellamy had ever experienced.

The girl took his other hand and began dancing, jumping to the beat and swinging their hands back and forth. Bellamy couldn't help but laugh as he followed her lead, twirling her around so that the sparkles on her dress flew around like fireworks. The song wasn't very long, but dancing with this girl felt like a lifetime to Bellamy and he never wanted it to stop.

The next song was slower, and surprisingly the crowd began to settle down with it. Groups began to wander to the far edges of the room while couples paired up and began to slow dance. Bellamy glanced nervously at the girl in front of him but she already had his hands on her waist and her arms wrapped around his neck. Despite the slower pace, Bellamy's heart still beat faster than normal.

"My name is Clarke, by the way." the girl said, beginning to sway along with the music. "I work here as a dancer, but tonight's my night off."

"Do you do this on most of your free nights, Clarke?" Bellamy asked, realizing how reckless this was. He didn't even know this girl, yet here he was dancing with her. It was so unlike him, which made it feel even better.

"I do try to keep the party going." Clarke said, laughing softly. "But not many people get to dance with me. I guess you're special."

"Or just so extremely boring that you pitied me and wanted to do me a service." Bellamy said, rolling his eyes at the "s" word. He had been called that by plenty of people in the past, but all of them were people he wanted to forget.

"Don't be so down on yourself. Some people just need a little boost. You just have to learn that you can't be afraid of what might happen. Maybe you'll make mistakes, or maybe you'll fall in love. But either way, you're having fun, right?"

Bellamy couldn't stop the smile that spread over his face. He had never seen someone with so much hope in their eyes. It was like she was full of some kind of magic that made it impossible to ever feel bad in her company. He had never met anyone like her.

"Clarke, do you believe in destiny?" Bellamy asked, the word rolling easily off his tongue. Clarke furrowed her eyebrows for a second before answering.

"I'm not sure. I think people always have a choice in what they do in life. They get to decide whether they live a good life or a bad life. But maybe either way you go, destiny decides where you end up."

I think meeting you was my fate. The words were on the tip of Bellamy's tongue but he knew he couldn't say them. He had only just met Clarke and the last thing he wanted to do was mess it up by proclaiming that they were meant to be. Besides, they may not even last until tomorrow. Which meant that he had to make the best of it.

"Would it be alright if I tell you everything about me?" Bellamy blurted suddenly, studying Clarke's face so that he never forget it. "In case destiny decides that we aren't meant to last more than the night."

Clarke looked surprised for a second before breaking into a beautiful smile. That smile could light Bellamy's world for the rest of his life. Maybe he didn't entirely believe in fate, but he couldn't ignore that he fell in love with Clarke the moment he saw her.

"Only if I can tell you everything about me." she whispered, leaning close enough that their lips could almost touch. Bellamy took a deep breath.

"My name is Bellamy Blake. I have a sister named Octavia. I'm a private investigator. And I would be lying if I said I didn't want to kiss you right now."

Bellamy Blake didn't mean to be at the speakeasy. But kissing Clarke Griffin wasn't something he would regret. And when the time came to call the number she scrawled on a stray napkin, Bellamy wouldn't hesitate in asking her to get coffee. And when Bellamy's car wouldn't start and it started to rain, he wouldn't be making a mistake by sweeping her off her feet and telling her he's in love. Because that's their fate.