The rest of September passed without incident. Well, that she knew of, anyway. The papers didn't report on another murder, so she had assumed that that was a good sign. Things are quieting down. At least for now. She believed that once October came around, things would start back up again. But as October approached her, it too passed into the new month without a bang. Another good sign. But just because things appeared to be quiet, on the surface, anyway, it didn't mean that Charlie had been any less busy than before. A week would go by and she'd see him once or twice and the nights she did spend at the Waldorf Towers or he at the Chelsea, it meant he was gone by morning. A rare feat. She normally didn't even hear him get up and slip out. Other times she did and had gotten up with him, relishing in the few moments they had between them before he would leave and she would be unsure as to when they'd see one another again. And so she'd stay behind, lingering until she had felt ready to get up or when work rang her. Usually it had been the latter.
She knew the reason; at least, she believes she does, why Charlie is abruptly gone, harder to get a hold of and why he usually makes contact first. The negotiations have started. Perhaps in passing, with nothing serious to come of them, yet. She believes it's just to test the waters but that means he's got to be extremely careful as to whom he talks to and who he's seen with. He had been keeping his answers to her inquires brief and simple. Just in case. Perhaps he had been still trying to gage her trustworthiness. She hadn't been insulted or hurt, it's what he feel comfortable doing and she understands. She had been doing the same thing to him since they met. The carefully masked answers and revelations that were only half-truths. And he never questioned her either.
And yet there had been some good that had come from their talks in bed. He talked to her a bit more about the night they met. She doesn't recall how they ended up on that subject but they did and he hadn't minded. He had met up with the men she remembered from the limo in the streets late at night just as he had been on his way back from finishing up his business when they approached him. Or jumped him as he corrected himself. The fight, he had told her, had been bad, with both sides sustaining multiple injuries before they had managed to get him under control. She had questioned if he had known them, because he had mentioned a name to the cops while she had been there. And he hesitated. He hesitated! Before he told her no, he didn't. She knew he had been lying. And she believed it had been the cops mentioned by him. He hadn't agreed or disagreed merely kept silent. She knew he had done the same thing when the cops had dragged him out of the hospital for questioning, he still in pain from the attack, she only had to imagine his discomfort as the hours dragged on by. Charlie not saying anything but the cops refusing to let him go. That's why no one had ever been arrested for the crime. It angered her.
But Rose remembered his crooked smile at her as he had put his hand on her cheek, since she had been scowling, of which she didn't remember, and had said to her it didn't matter. She had said she had been attempting to picture the fight, the stab wounds…everything. But Charlie had shrugged. The only thing that had kept him going was the desire to take the lives of those that had jumped him, in whatever capacity he could. And the adrenaline, she thought silently. Sadly, he had said, he didn't get that chance. Her smile had been weak, he told her. So she had taken his hand tightly in hers. He had been fine, survived that attempt and the one a few months later. All had been well.
The attack, he informed her when she wanted to know, had been done by a boss, she didn't questioned who, she had an inkling that it's his current one. And the boss had wanted to keep him in line but those he had sent to attack him had gotten orders mixed up and thought they had been there to do a hit. Thankfully the boss had sent idiots; Charlie had called them, utterly incompetent on how to effectively kill someone. The knife had been too dull and when the one attacker had run it across his throat, he had positioned the knife too high. So it had been botched. That one, he admitted, had hurt.
She's been attacked before, shot at and had received wounds from a knife before, claws from creatures but she doesn't know how she'd deal with a throat slashing with such good humour as Charlie had. The subject shifted.
He had wanted to know why she had been wandering around Staten Island in the first place, alone. She had smiled at him, kissing him briefly but deeply as she pulled away she had shrugged. She needed to think. She had just left her job, confused and angry about what she needed to do next.
Charlie had wanted to know why she left. She had folded her arms and glared at the wall in front of them. Thinking about it nearly brought the hot tears of shame to her eyes. The hard lump in her throat hadn't been easy to swallow. She had felt his eyes on her and so she summoned her strength and swallowed the difficult lump in her throat. She had quit because she hadn't felt respected in her position. And she told him about the Ruby Jade Incident. The first person she had ever told about it. Besides Kate. And confessed that she still felt like she's on display, that she's covered in a layer of filth she can't seem to get rid of, no matter how hard she tried. That she had been scarred by that event. How it continues to affect her.
When she had finished telling Charlie about it, not having looked at him the entire time. His eyes had held hers deeply. She took small breaths then, she could tell he was trying to think of something to say. She saw the muted horror in his look…she hadn't been able to tell what he had been thinking. He said she deserved nothing but the best and that if she had felt she wasn't respected then it had been the right choice to leave. He had wanted to know if she felt better having left. She frowned at him, wondering why she hadn't thought about that herself. She nodded carefully with an apprehensive smile as he gripped her chin gently. Chin up, beautiful, he had said to her, don't let it get to you. She's strong and they couldn't handle it. Rose smiled at him and promised him that she'd find her inner bitch and run with her. He had laughed with her, proud to be with her. It had been such a wonderfully new feeling. That had been the last lightness to their nights. After that encounter, things seemed to get slightly more stressful and Charlie's moods shifted from fine to be around to perpetually pissed off for nights on end. And then things quieted down once again. But things never stay the same.
The semblance of peace had been shattered on 23 October. It had been in the middle of the night something had awoken her. Even now, as she attempts to recall what it had been it escapes her. He hadn't been in bed beside her and it had been early. Early enough that she had felt as though she had only been asleep for a few hours. As she sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she heard his voice, low in the other room. She had slipped from the bed and cautiously made her way to the door, as it had been slightly ajar she opened it further and peered out, just in case someone had been with him. But Charlie had been alone. He was conversing with someone on the other line. Due to the distance between them and how low he had been speaking, she had only gotten bits and pieces of the conversation.
'Mineo's finished it. Joe Aiello's dead,' Charlie had said as he leaned back against the couch. There had been a pause, and he had leaned forward. 'Mineo's coming back from Chicago under a different name,' Again there had been a pause as she had listened to the strange names, having no idea to whom they belonged to. 'No, that's the good thing. No, I know but just because…yes, I'm aware. The power struggle in Chicago right now is the perfect cover. Capone's a Castellammarese alley as well; people will assume he sanctioned the hit because of the power struggle between the two of them. They won't think the hit was ordered from New York. Fine.'
She had heard the receiver click. That had been it. She turned back into the room, hearing his faint sigh and so she had decided to go out to see him, thinking he might have wanted to talk to her.
He had turned up to her with a relieved look and she had sat beside him. 'Couldn't sleep?' She had ventured, keeping her voice low as well.
'I wish that were the problem.' He had replied, he sounded, to her when she recalls that night, rather exhausted. He had put his hand on her knee and left it there for a moment before he had ran it up her inner thigh.
'Things are getting bad?' She had questioned, not adding anything else because she knew he knew what she had been talking about. He had stared at the liquor cabinet at the other end of the room before he turned to her with an unreadable expression on his face.
'We're losing.' He had replied, serious, his tone defeated.
'Still?'
'People are defecting, more and more each day.' Charlie had informed her and she had drawn her knees to her chest, staring at her toes in thought.
'What are you going to do?'
'Vito and I have to make a decision.'
She had an idea but that did not make it any less dangerous. He was going to play with fire. And she remembered hoping that he wasn't going to get burned. She, of course, knew of the outcome but she's a time traveller, what would happened if she had unconsciously altered something, mentioned something in passing that would or already had altered the way he would look at a situation? What if she got him killed?
He must have seen the uncertainty in her eyes because he drew her closer to him. She had pressed her lips together, wishing that this could be over, that this war could end, but there had to be many more deaths before it would, including two leaders. When would it get better?
She had continued to wonder that statement after that night as well. Every night he hadn't come back to her bed she had wondered if her being in this time altered something, she kept her paranoia carefully masked, pretended as though things were normal to her. She had waited up for him. Sometimes he had come to her and sometimes he hadn't. She had continued to do her own thing, staying out of his business even though she had known what it was about. If she had inquired, the answers received had been minimal.
October had ended on a quiet note, just as it had begun. The nights grew colder; frost had been on the windows every morning and she had believed that this territorial war would be finished sooner rather than later. But that hadn't been the case. The fifth of November had always been important to her, she had returned home to celebrate, a small impromptu gathering with Jack, his friends and Mickey and Martha. That had been great. She had a really good time.
She had to decline the invite from Jack to stay the night, she could tell he knew something was up with her but she didn't elaborate, instead she chose to head back to New York. Slightly buzzed and tired.
Something was different when she had opened the door to his suite that night she had returned. She rang him quickly, just to ensure he was there. The previous day, she had seen him off as he had simply informed her he would be in the Bronx, unsure of his return. It had been important. She had walked out with him, saying she had to pick something up at the Chelsea. Who had been waiting for him outside startled her. That meeting would be important. All of those people gathered outside waiting for Charlie were more than likely the last of Masseria's allies. Two men she didn't recognise, until the name Mineo had been uttered. Mineo, who had finished the Aiello hit in Chicago, was flanked by the other man she hadn't a clue of his identity. Masseria, she had recognised him immediately, she had felt his eyes on her the entire time. Vito ended up stepping in front of Masseria to shield her from his gaze. He saw her look of relief. She had only stopped because she wanted to say hello to Vito, they had met a handful of times, usually in the streets. He had approached her first for pleasantries when she had been alone, introducing himself, she taken back by who she had been speaking with. And startled that he had known who she was. He had simply smiled. Charlie couldn't keep secrets from his associates for long. He had said to her that he was looking forward to the day when she'd be formally introduced to everyone. She had felt dazed, how many people would she be meeting?
Once Charlie had joined them, she had bid them good day and headed out, that feeling of being watched hadn't left her, even as she rounded the corner and left their sight. The Bronx. She had doubted his return that night and grew despondent when she had been right. So she had stayed at the Chelsea, resolved to enjoy the festivities of November 5th, she had. And then she had come back.
She hadn't seen Charlie right away, merely felt the chill, as the French doors to the balcony were wide open. As the curtains melted away she had seen him outside and she drew her coat tighter to her as she stepped out. She had always been jealous of his view, better than hers at the Chelsea. More picturesque. Well more landscapes. Ah, more buildings. It flowed nicer. Even as she had wrapped her arm around his waist and he drew her closer to him, he had stayed silent.
'How was the Bronx?' She had ventured. Charlie hadn't said much.
'I assume you had a better day than me?' He had wondered, he was always so good at avoiding her questions, and Rose smiled.
'Bonfire Night. A friend and I had a small gathering celebrating.' Rose had explained and Charlie had started at her with a quizzical expression.
'What? Bonfire Night?'
She had smiled at him. 'One of the little things from England I take with me. It's November 5th. Guy Fawkes Night.' She explained. She hadn't wanted to inquire as to how well he knew English history. He had been silent, thinking.
'Right, I think I remember reading about that. The Gunpowder Plot.'
'You never cease to impress me.' She had told him, that was the truth all right.
'The feeling is mutual.' He had assured her but saw the pensive look ebb its way back. She had placed her hand on his cheek and tilted her head.
'What's happened? I know something has. Tell me.'
'Steve Ferrigno was killed. Several hours ago.' He explained. Rose widened her eyes, she had no idea who he had been but she takes that from Charlie's morose expression he had been a friend and an ally.
'Oh, no…'
'I've heard rumours that Valachi has been boasting about the hit. Telling people he, some hitman from Chicago, and Profaci had been watching us meet at Steve's apartment yesterday.'
'With this done…people are going to leave, Charlie…you're running out of options…' Rose had cut herself off; worried she'd say something she shouldn't. Like how much she doubted Profaci had actually participated in the assassination. A future mob boss wouldn't have gotten that close.
He had kissed her forehead, and she knew he knew. 'I'm aware.'
They hadn't said more. At least, not that she had recalled. She believed that night he had made his decision. If he stayed with Masseria, he'd be killed; it was only a matter of time. He knew things were going from bad to worse, the original war, the Castellammarese versus the non-Castellammarese factions were becoming null and void. Eroded. She held him tighter. Even as the night grew later and later, her breath as she breathed out became more and more defined until Charlie had lead her back inside and closed the doors. She had sat by the fire until she had fallen asleep only to be awoken abruptly by a strange dream in his bed. Not shocking as she had woken up alone. A trend had followed. She had woken up alone for three days before he came back.
She had even planned something nice to celebrate his birthday at the end of November and had simply informed him that he needed to be back before the sun set, around five. He promised her he would, swore up and down. But he hadn't arrived back in time. She mulled around his suite, hoping he was a bit late. She waited and waited for him, the hour drew later until she had given up, falling asleep, still in her trench coat. She was awoken by the sound of the door opening; she had slid out of bed to meet him in the doorway. His embrace of her had been filled with apologies. Only after they sat together on the bed had she gotten the story.
Masseria had been informed of one of his dwindling allies had been passing information to the cops about warehouses where the bootlegged liquor was held before being distributed. The guy had a record and was looking at a lengthy sentence. His cooperation would have reduced the sentence dramatically. Charlie had been tasked with finding out who it was that had talked and eliminate them. He had spent the entirety of the night and early morning hours around Manhattan and Queens. He had looked every bit exhausted and had been drifting in and out of coherence the more she had wanted to know. Finally she had just let him rest while she went off and did her own job.
She remembered him asking what had been under that trench coat, she had told him he'd find out later. He had laughed. But she had come back later that night and he hadn't been there. Of course.
As Christmas approached she knew she had a decision to make. Charlie had invited her to spend the holidays with him. He sounded quite insistent. She hadn't wanted to admit it then, still even thinking about it makes her uncomfortable, but when he wanted her to spend Christmas of 1930 with him, she had been nervous. She hadn't had a reason to be, she didn't think so. She hadn't had plans then either, at least not in her time. Jack hadn't offered anything, not yet, so truly she didn't have plans made. She had normally found herself at little morose around that time anyway; she always missed her family around this time.
He had casually asked her on their way out of the Chelsea in early December. She was on her way back to London to meet with Kate and Charlie had told her he was merely meeting someone. He didn't tell her who and she hadn't inquired. But it made her wonder if the secret negotiations had started and the he was looking for a way to end this war. The public was becoming much more aware that something was happening between the gangs, they knew they were warring.
Vito had been waiting for Charlie; he gave her a nod as she headed south while they had gotten in to a car. Vaguely she had heard Vito inquire if they should give her a lift, but Charlie told him to drive. She had smiled. Finally he had gotten that she prefers to walk everywhere. And hide when she had to jump.
She hadn't listened very well during that meeting, she stared out the window of the conference room while they talked. She was wondering what she ought to do. She had reminded herself that she really didn't have plans for the holidays, it would be nice to spend them with someone whose company she enjoyed. Then she remembered a problem. What if Jack wanted her to be around for Christmas? She could always decline politely, saying she'd already made commitments, oh but then he'd want to know why and with whom. Jack doesn't even know she still jumps back to New York in 1930, she knew he assumed that once the encounter with the Onta had finished up she had collected her things and that had been all. She could never tell him why she continued to go back there, to see him. If Jack discovered who her lover was then she'd be in trouble. She knew she would be.
When she had met up with Charlie that night, resolved in her decision, she had said she would love to. And he had genuinely appeared happy at that announcement. Probably one less stressful thing he had to worry about. Because even though he was being extremely careful about what he told her, people always find out things. Because when Masseria had been waiting for Charlie a few times in the morning when they usually had gone their separate ways, she didn't like the look in his eyes. It always worried her that he found out Charlie was communicating with the enemy. Trouble was, Masseria never said anything and Charlie had never related that he knew either.
Even now she hopes she is merely reading too much in to these events. She pulls her jacket tighter to her as the wicked winds stir up the snow in front of her. What a dreadful night to be walking around the streets. Her boots are getting wet and her feet cold. That fireplace sounds better and better each passing minute. She lets her thoughts wander to the end of the previous year.
As Christmas drew closer, the weeks had gone by so fast; she had been working so much, gone to different parts of the globe, different planets. There had been one time she jumped from Spain to California to the planet called Ju that when she had finally stopped in her flat in London, she sat in the arm chair to collect herself, she had woken up the next morning disorientated because she had no idea where she was or how she'd gotten there. Even though she knew she had to get back to New York, she took her time getting ready, showering slowly, dressing with care…by the time she had arrived, she made sure to set the time back an extra couple of hours, that way she could get a couple extra hours. Well worth it.
When Charlie had found her asleep that morning he questioned her as to what happened. She hadn't meant to be dismissive but she had come across that way. Charlie had seen how exhausted she still was so he dropped the subject, much to her relief. Instead he told her where they would be in a few weeks time, Christmas Day. Inside that comment made her panic, her heart started racing. But she had been pleasant and inquired where. Brooklyn. That's all he had given her. She spent the rest of the day trying to figure out who would be living there that she knew. But that had been the funny part. She didn't know anyone. Well, not personally, she had merely read the names. She hadn't met anyone. Is that what had made her nervous? Or had it been that Charlie wanted her to spend the holiday with him? She doesn't know, that battle between good and bad had raged on her mind once again though, she remembers a couple of sleepless nights in London thinking about it. And with no one to talk to it continued to eat away at her.
Rose pauses in the street, waiting for the traffic to thin before she walks across the street. Given the time, surprisingly, the traffic is still rather thick. What does she expect? This is New York City. Thankfully she's nearly to the Waldorf Towers. However she pauses, glancing over her shoulder. Feels like she's being watched. And yet nothing stands out her, people move around her, their eyes locked ahead of them. Only some pause to lift their eyes to hers. Those that do lean against buildings or streetlamps are casual and no one locks gazes with her. Maybe she's simply imaging it. She keeps her gaze locked with the ground, her feet sliding in the slushy snow. She begins to think of Christmas and the new friend she had met that day. By accident, as all her friends seem to be.
'Are you nearly finished in there? Christ, you've never taken this long before.'
'Yeah, well, it's been you and me every other time. These are people I've never met before. I just…want to make sure…everything's good.' Rose calls to him from the bedroom. Charlie rolls his eyes.
'I'm sure you look fine.'
'I just don't want people to talk.' Rose replies evenly and Charlie smiles.
'People are already talking.' Charlie answers and there is a long drawn out pause. He can nearly see the stunned expression on her face. Well he's telling the truth. People talk about her all the time. They want to meet her. Not that he's said much about her to them, he's private like that, but they've seen her in the streets, wondering if that's the blonde from Staten Island.
'That's not very reassuring,' Rose's voice causes him to turn his gaze to where she's standing in the door. She smiles nervously at him. 'Is this okay? I mean, I don't want the attention. Be honest. If you think it isn't good, tell me so I can put on the black dress on.'
The dress she's chosen is a deep emerald colour, the fabric glitters in the light slightly but not in an ostentatious way. On the shoulders of the dress there are small triangular embellishments, somehow subtle and he watches her tug down the three quarter length sleeves before adjusting the hem of the dress. Even though it falls to her knees she doesn't seem happy with the length.
A few strands of loose hair fall around her face, the simple Gibson tuck hadn't managed to capture all of her hair and somehow it suits her face. When she turns back to the bedroom to grab her coat and purse he notices that the back of the dress is open. He assumes that's the part she's worried about. But the openness of the dress doesn't compromise the style, it's still classy. It reveals a little something but not enough.
'You look fine.' Charlie informs her when she comes back out of the bedroom, this time in those high heeled shoes she loves to wear.
'You're not just saying that, are you?' Rose wonders and turns slightly so she can see the back of the dress, however she's merely met with her bare back. She bites her lip and lifts her gaze to Charlie's. She opens her mouth to declare she's going for the black one instead, it's more conservative; she won't draw attention to herself. She forgets she's in 1930 and not the future. She'd have no problem rocking this dress if she had been in London, but now…she's second guessing herself.
'I'm not just saying that, you look fine,' Charlie reiterates and Rose presses her lips together as she slips on her black pea coat. He can see her mind working, she's thinking. He frowns as he approaches her; she's smoothing down her coat and swallows. 'What's bothering you? You're acting like you did the night we met up once again.'
Rose merely gives him a nervous smile; mostly because of the way he remembered her uneasiness. 'Yeah, I'm nervous. But…' She trails off and says no more.
'It'll be fine. You worry too much.' Charlie decides and watches her shrug a bit but takes his hand in hers. He grabs his coat off of the couch and follows Rose out the door, carefully studying her.
If she's worried they'll talk about her and that she'll be the centre of attention, she's not wrong. They will, he knows them. And her outfit…yeah, he wants them to see how pretty she is. He likes showing her off.
This is a welcome break from the stress that's been following him around the past year. With everyone under one roof, it'll give them a chance to talk about ways of ending the mindless bloodshed. But, then again, he already knows the way to end it, doesn't he? Question is how long will he have to wait and who will be on his side afterwards?
She appeared calm as they pulled up to 2230 Ocean Parkway in Brooklyn. She hadn't a clue as to whose house it was as it was modest compared to what Charlie enjoyed being in, not as grandiose as the others either. Then she noticed all the cars parked along the side of the road. She swallows. There's gonna be so many people here. The little voice of reason mocks her decision to continue this. Now she gets to meet every first generation mobster. How's she gonna cope with that? She shoves those feelings into a small part of her mind, no point in trying to argue it away; she's here now, better try to make the best of it.
Charlie keeps his eye on her as they head up the walkway towards the door, he can already hear the voices, loud trying to talk over one another. Rose falls behind as Charlie opens the door and she finds it odd that he didn't bother to knock. He must be good friends with the owner of the house.
The smells that come from the kitchen entice her; it smells wonderful and makes her hungry. In the lounge, she forgets what it's called over here, she can see the shadows on the wall that belong to the guests, and laughter fills the house. It's modestly decorated as well, nothing very flashy about it. The furniture is simple, colour scheme is neutral, if this is a home that belongs to an associate of Charlie's, she never would have guessed as most of them enjoy showing off their wealth. The owner of this one wants to blend in.
Charlie holds his hand out for her coat and Rose sheepishly shrugs it off, passing it to him as he opens the closet door on the left side of the foyer and hangs it up. Rose continues to look around the house a bit before realising that Charlie has left her and she widens her eyes to catch up. They're going right into the lounge. She swallows one last time and prepares herself. She's no idea what to expect.
They're happy to see Charlie when he enters first, Rose hangs behind him a few steps until Charlie leads her to the front to stand beside him. Everyone had been silent while they gave her a good once over, and then a second one. Some even gave her a third. It had been the girlfriends of the men who had given her a scrutinising eye, not that there were many of them but Rose could they were silently judging her hair, clothing and the likes, what normal women do, she supposes. They don't reveal their thoughts on their faces but the men there welcome her with open arms, lying that this is the first time they've met her before, but when she is embraced by Vito she can tell that many of them have already caught glimpses of her just by the look in his eyes and the smirk.
She has been hanging back, in the corner of the lounge. The other women haven't said much to her, hard to imagine they've already formed a click and she doesn't mind Charlie off talking with those he knows. She's the new comer here. She shifts her weight from one side to the other and reaches for her drink that she's set down on the window ledge but notices it's empty, she frowns and looks around, Charlie had gotten her drink but she hadn't seen where he'd gotten it. She presses her lips together and scans the lounge.
'Another drink?'
Rose blinks when a younger man holds out a crystal glass filled with amber liquid. Right names, okay, who's this again? She notices the man is missing his right index finger and thumb. Factory accident in the 19 teens, okay she knows him. Lucchese.
'Thank you, Mr Lucchese.' Rose takes the glass and smiles at him.
'Tommy, please,' He informs her and Rose nods her head and takes a quick sip. 'Enjoying yourself?'
'Very much so.' She answers and Tommy turns around to see the women looking at them. They're quiet for a moment before turning in to one another and begin whispering.
'Overwhelming?'
'Very much so.' Rose repeats and Tommy laughs, she smiles into her glass.
'You'll like Elsa, then. The shy quiet one on the couch over there? And probably Catherine, too.' Tommy motions to the kitchen and Rose follows his gaze.
'Really?' Rose stares at her glass and they are approached by another man, tall and imposing with dark eyes. She can tell he's quick to anger and appears to be impatient.
'Rose.' The man nods at her and she gives him a small smile.
'Albert.'
'Tommy, quick discussion.' Albert motions to the outside to where the others are and he nods. Rose can only imagine what it could be. She finds it odd that they're still willing to talk about business now, of all days.
'Rose, nice meeting you again.'
'You too, Tommy. Albert.' Rose smiles at him and he merely gives her a small nod. She notices they left empty glasses next to hers and she decides to take them into the kitchen out of the way. Maybe she could be of some use in there.
The kitchen is a little tight, but efficient. There are different sections that have plates, cutlery and napkins. A slender woman with dark hair in a dress of crepe colour with silver sequins sewn throughout the design catches Rose's attention. When she turns to see her standing there, Rose can see the dress has a low neckline with a straight-topped bodice and inch thick straps. The waistline accentuates just how slender she is however she frowns slightly from her spot by the stove, stirring something in a pot. Rose can see the confusion in her eyes and so she holds up the glasses she's holding as a means to start conversation.
'Oh, thank you. You can leave them there,' She points to a spot by the sink where other dishes have been stacked. Rose smiles at her and heads over. Wanting to help she begins to fill the sink with water. It grabs the woman's attention again and she
frowns. 'That really isn't necessary. Please, go on out there and enjoy yourself.'
Rose shakes her head. 'I hope you don't mind if I stay here, help out maybe. I don't know anyone well enough.' She admits taking off her watch and bracelet. She takes the cloth and submerges it into the hot water. She feels the woman's light brown eyes on her.
'Oh, you must be Charlie's girl. It's nice to meet you, I'm Catherine. But everyone calls me Cat, except my husband.' She smiles at Rose before glancing back to the stove.
'I'm Rose, thank you for having me here, Cat.'
They continue their tasks in silence. Not awkward or heavy just a thoughtful quietness. Cat lightly taps the spoon on the rim of the pot and Rose neatly stacks the glasses by the side of the sink, to dry later. Cat looks over to Rose once again as she silently continues to clean the glasses and then start on the small pile of dishes she's started since cooking.
The emerald coloured dress Rose is in is rather…interesting. The hemline is incredibly short, falling to just her knees while her own dress reaches the floor. Then again if she had nice legs as Rose does, maybe she'd want to show them off too. The dress itself looks comfortable, the back is open but that isn't anything new, some of the new fashion pieces she's read in the magazines and seen in the shop windows show long dresses with an open back. She'll stick to hiding hers thank you very much. But it's the shoes she's wearing that really catch Cat's attention. The heel of the shoe is so incredibly thin and high and elevated, not the stubby fat heels she's been used to wearing. And the soles of the shoes are red where the rest of the shoe is black. How in the world does she walk around in those things? Those aren't shoes, those are…something entirely different. They look torturous. Still, Rose seems nice. Cat decides to attempt conversation again.
'Thank you for the help. It's the first time one of…my husband's friend's girls has offered to help out. It's refreshing.' Cat opens up a cupboard and takes something out of it.
Rose turns over her shoulder. 'I can't imagine doing this entire dinner for how many…?'
'Twenty five.'
'Twenty five?!' Rose repeats stunned and wonders where they're all hiding, she hasn't met everyone apparently. 'Yeah, I can't imagine why they didn't offer to help. I feel terrible I hadn't offered sooner.'
Cat smiles and leans against the counter. 'Most of the other girls are too good to concern themselves with domestic tasks once they latch on to these kind of men.'
'Clearly.'
'Well, Elsa isn't like them, she is just too nice to excuse herself from their company when they get a hold of her,' Cat explains and Rose nods her head, trying to remember which one of them had been Elsa. 'Plus, having just come from Canada, I think she's just trying to make as many friends as she can.'
'How long has she been in New York?' Rose wonders and submerges another pot.
'About four months. She met Albert after about a month or so, they've been inseparable ever since,' Cat informs her and Rose absently nods, focusing on scrubbing the pot clean. 'You know, you're different from the other girls Charlie's brought around, first girl that actually has a brain in her. I like it. You should have seen the last one. At my wedding, what an embarrassment.'
Rose turns over to Cat stunned by her omission. She had given Rose the impression, in the ten seconds they both used to judge one another, that she is quiet and demure. But she is opinionated. Rose instantly takes a liking to her. And then Cat's comment beings to sink in that much further.
'Really? How awful for you, on your day no less.'
Cat starts to laugh. 'She got really, really drunk at the wedding. I've never seen Charlie that ticked off before, she certainly made it memorable. He started bringing her around less and less to functions after that.'
'Was it the woman who looked like Louise Brookes?' Rose questions and Cat's hand flies to her mouth in shock, her brown eyes wide. However it isn't long before Rose sees the corners of her mouth turn up in a smile.
'Yes! Why, did you know her?'
'No, but I saw her one night in the bar at the Chelsea, that's where I'm staying. That's where Charlie and I sort of…reconnected. She had been drunk that night, too. And then, not that long ago, while we were out to dinner, I crossed paths with her again. Except this time she threw wine in my face and started an argument with Charlie.' Rose explains and her mind wanders back to that night. There is so much she wished she could have said to that woman but held back because she didn't want to make more of a scene. She really wanted to.
Again Cat's eyes go wide. 'In front of the whole restaurant?!'
'Yeah…'
'My goodness, how awful.' Cat turns around and stirs the contents of the pot once again. She watches Rose begin to towel dry the contents that she's just washed.
'Well, yeah, I guess. Never had that happen to me before.' Rose admits and rubs the back of her head with embarrassment. Cat doesn't miss the slight tinge of red to her cheeks.
Cat opens up a cupboard and takes out some spices. 'Sometimes people just don't want to admit things are over and that they have to move on. It scares them.'
Rose heads over to Cat, drying her hands on the small towel and smiles a bit. 'Very insightful.' Cat watches Rose walk in the shoes with sticks on them, she makes it look so easy.
Cat merely returns the smile, placing her hand on her hip. 'I may have only ever been with one man but that doesn't mean I don't have my own opinions based on what I've seen.'
'How long have you been married?' Rose wonders and leans against the counter sliding on her watch back on.
'Four years already.' Cat smiles and Rose crinkles her nose as she returns it. She wonders who her husband is, unsure if she's been introduced to him. She honestly doesn't remember everyone's name, not on purpose but the introductions had been whirlwind.
The conversation has lulled, and not wanting the silence to fall into an awkward stage since they are both warming up to one another, Rose stares at the stack of fine white china on the end of the counter. She points to them. 'Those going out to the dining room?'
'Oh, they are. Thank you.' Cat smiles and motions to the pot on the stove. Rose merely nods her head. Burning something tonight wouldn't be good. Nothing good would come of it except maybe a good story to tell later on.
As Rose moves around the large wooden rectangle table, several leafs have had to be put in, she can see in her peripheral vision the other women gathered around a shy girl, that must be Elsa. However when they hear her setting the china down, the glance to her direction, Rose keeps a steely façade. How like women to gossip and judge her on everything but her personality and brain. Even though she attempts to ignore them, she is still human and their whispers make her self-conscious and second-guess her confidence. Maybe she ought to have put on the black dress; less showy than the one she's wearing now. She hates being the centre of attention but she hears a voice in her mind start to laugh. Doesn't like being the centre of attention? You're in 1930 and still dress like you're in the future. Give your head a shake, girl.
She has to go back into the kitchen for the next stack, when she does finish the task she's glad for it. Until she remembers the cutlery and closes her eyes in defeat. She endures longer stares, points this time and an apologetic look from Elsa. Thank god she's sane enough.
She's never been gladder to finish a task before, usually she's always watched as she does certain things, depending on the job, but this time…no…especially since you knew they were judging you. She takes refuge in the kitchen.
Cat is with another man, dark hair, a little taller than she is. The dark coloured suit he has on offsets Cat's crepe coloured one, making her stand out more. He has his arm around her shoulders, rubbing her left arm tenderly before he draws her closer. Not wanting to intrude any longer, she begins to back away, having just entered the dining room once more before someone else places their hands on her shoulders and she freezes.
'I've been looking for you everywhere.'
Rose is relieved to hear Charlie's voice and instantly relaxes. 'Have you? I've been in the kitchen. Helping. Sorta.' She adds and turns to face him. She catches the confused look on his face.
'Why?'
'Have you ever cooked dinner for twenty five people?' Rose wonders and he remains silent, giving her his answer. She gives him a quick kiss. 'Neither have I but it's hard work, so any little bit helps.'
'I'm sure Cat appreciates it,' Charlie replies and Rose shrugs absently, she finds it strange that only Cat's husband calls her by her full name. Charlie doesn't miss the whispers of the other girls in the living room and frowns. 'You haven't made friends yet?' He teases and Rose throws him an unimpressed look.
'I don't think I'd fit in there. I don't know how to pretend I care. I always care.'
'Good point.' Charlie glances over to where the other girls are absorbed in conversation. One points to her shoes. Elsa looks entirely bored but unwilling to say anything that may go against the topic of conversation. Her face goes red and looks to her own dress as the rest of them erupt into laughter.
He turns over to Albert when his name is called and then back to Rose. She smiles at him. 'Go on, I'll be fine.' She inwardly smiles when he tilts her chin up to kiss him before he's disappeared into the living room.
Rose leans against the closest chair, going over her time here so far. She is shaken from her thoughts when she hears the sound of china and glassware clinking so she decides to go in and help Cat once again.
However once she's brought herself out of her dazed, she notices the man that had been beside Cat. Rose blinks and smiles.
'Hello.' He greets and Rose offers her hand immediately. No one can stay she's been standoffish or rude.
'Hi, I'm Rose. I don't think we've met yet. My apologies if we have.' She grips the man's hand tightly in her own and he gives her a quiet observation. He's nearly impossible to read, he exudes a gentle exterior but the eyes don't match his face. His eyes are cold, calculating.
'Carlo, pleasure to meet you Rose.'
'Carlo…' Rose repeats and inhales sharply when she is able to put a face to infamous last name, she masks it with another smile. 'Thank you for having me.'
'I'm glad you could make it, we've been looking forward to meeting you properly.' Carlo replies and Rose doesn't need to inquire as to the 'we' in that sentence. She knows who Carlo is referring to. Everyone.
'Well, hopefully no one's disappointed.' Rose quips accidently and Carlo laughs a bit. She attempts to remain calm. Whoops, she's gotta work on the snarkiness. Sassing off to Carlo is one thing, but not to Masseria. Actually no, smarting off to Carlo Gambino isn't a good idea either. Thankfully, and hopefully, he got that she had merely been kidding around.
'Not that I've heard, you've been quite the hit here.' Carlo remarks and Rose's gaze drops to her feet, she feels her cheeks flush, she can't help it.
'Not on purpose, I hope. Didn't ask for it.' She adds the last part quietly hoping Carlo hasn't heard her. But he has and he smiles slightly, glancing over to the lounge where the others are. When Rose looks over as well and then turns back she blinks as Carlo has his eyes on her again.
He places his hand on the side of her arm and gives her a small nod. 'No, I know. When you're with someone in this life, you often get dragged along. Pretending you don't know what's going on when you know very well. You're bearing it well, given the situation that's raging on…' He pauses and Rose smiles. 'You'll be safe. I know it seems ironic but you will be. You have a lot of people that will look out for you if ever Charlie can't.'
'Like a family…' Rose breathes and it makes Carlo smile. He has such a sweet disposition. He keeps that iron fist so carefully hidden. But she knows that the dark side is always there. For them, it's always just below the surface. Unless of course you're Albert. Then it's a guessing game.
'I suppose. Just like that.' He squeezes her arm and disappears into the lounge. Rose watches for a moment before she comes back to reality and quietly slips into the kitchen. Confused about how she's supposed to feel a moment like this.