I'm sitting on Alastor's sofa as I read through papers, scanning through the numbers of expenses we've had so far for the venue. Alastor is also reviewing any items we may need to purchase. He doesn't have his suit jacket on as usual when he's at home. It's been about two hours since we've been sitting here, our noses stuck to these papers. Alastor glances at the clock and sees it's 6:15pm.
"Alright, I think that's enough for today," Alastor slaps the papers on to the coffee table and stands up.
"Huh?" I look up at him.
"Let's go out!"
"Go out where?"
"There's a place I want you to accompany me to."
"Where exactly?"
"It's an old fashioned saloon, just like the ones back in my day."
"Oh, that sounds fun!"
"But let's get you ready for this by changing you to more appropriate attire," he snaps his fingers.
My clothes turn into the 1920s outfit he changed that day he first taught me how to Waltz: the black knee length dress, Mary Jane heels, and bobbed hair with a light pink cloche hat. He decides to keep his usual suit but adds the red and black boater hat on his head. He makes the sides of my bob hair and some make up cover the pink on my cheeks.
"We've gotta hide those iconic rosy cheeks of yours!" Alastor lightly squeezes my cheeks. "Anyone will surely recognize them."
"Good point," I nod. "Where is this place?" I ask as we head to the front door.
"It's on the other side of town," he says as we approach my car. "I'll lead you as you drive."
We hop in my car and head out.
We're walking to the entrance of a building with a sign that reads The Soirée, large and bright bulbs around it. I gaze inside and see everyone is in similar attire as us.
"My lady," Alastor offers his right arm to me.
I slip my left arm around his right arm and we make our way inside. There we see an old fashioned bar setup with round wooden tables scattered about. People are drinking glasses of wine or whiskey or even smoking through a long black cigarette holder. I'm amazed at how it feels as if I time traveled to the 1920s and 30s.
"Care for a drink?" Alastor offers.
"Sure," I nod.
He leads me straight to the bar.
"Two glasses of whiskey, my good sir," Alastor tells the bartender.
"Coming right up!" He responds.
I break away from Alastor as I sit on a stool at the bar counter to his right. I don't want people getting the wrong idea with Alastor if they recognize who I am.
"Two glasses of whiskey," the bartender places the glasses in front of us.
"Thank you," I smile at the bartender. "So what made you come here?" I turn to Alastor.
"You've shown me activities of your modern lifestyle," he replies. "I figured I show you what my lifestyle was like when I was alive."
"It's so cool," I glance around. "It really does feel like I time traveled."
"I knew you'd like it!"
"I just hope no one recognizes me here. I don't want people to know how affiliated we are."
"Good point," he has his usual smile.
"It's best I keep a low profile."
We drink from our glasses of whiskey as we enjoy each other's company.
"How is Angel doing?" Alastor asks.
"He's doing well," I reply. "We haven't hung out in at least a week but he understands how busy I am. It gives him more time for his...dates."
"Ah yes, of course."
"Alastor?" We hear a woman with a southern accent from behind us.
We turn and see a woman with pale skin, sharp white teeth revealed in her smile, and white hair tied in a bun under a large grey, round capelina hat with pink feathers at the top. Her vintage grey dress has a tall collar that reaches the top of her neck. The sleeves are puffed in white as her dress rounds at her waist and is loose at the bottom. Her eyes are a deep black as she gazes down at me from her height of about six feet.
"How nice to see you," she tells Alastor. "My, it's been a while since you've been around these parts."
"A pleasure to see you too, Rosie," Alastor bows a bit.
Rosie turns her attention to me.
"And who might this be?" She asks.
'I don't think she recognizes me,' I think to myself.
"Just a friend of mine who I met through business affairs," Alastor cleverly replies.
'Nice one!' I think.
"What is your name, my dear?" Rosie asks.
"Mary," I reply with a southern accent. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is all mine."
"I hope your establishments are doing well," Alastor takes the attention from me.
"Oh yes, everything is going swell," Rosie replies. "I hear that you're working on a new business project."
"Ah yes! It's still under development so it's under wraps."
"There's also word of you having a business partner. That's very unlikely of you."
"Well, you know what they say! It's nice to try new things every now and then."
'He sure knows how to cover up well…' I think to myself.
"How's about a song for old time's sake?" She suggests.
"I'd love to!" Alastor agrees with his usual smile as he makes his cane disappear.
He and Rosie approach the old fashioned piano on one end of the salon. Alastor sits on the bench and begins to play at the keys while Rosie stands and leans against the piano. She prepares to sing.
"There's an old superstition 'way down south
Everybody believes that trouble won't stay
If you shake it away
When they hold a revival way down south
Everybody with care and trouble that day
Tries to shake it away
Shaking the blues away, unhappy news away
If you are blue, it's easy to
Shake off your cares and troubles
Telling the blues to go, they may refuse to go
But as a rule, they'll go if you'll
Shake them away
Do like the voodoos do, listening to a voodoo melody
They shake their bodies so, to and fro
With every shake, a lucky break
Proving that there's a way to chase your cares away
If you would lose your weary blues
Shake 'em away
Shaking the blues away, unhappy news away
If you are blue, it's easy to
Shake off your cares and troubles
Telling the blues to go, they may refuse to go
But as a rule, they'll go if you'll
Shake them away
Do like the voodoos do, listening to a voodoo melody
They shake their bodies so, to and fro
With every shake, a lucky break
Proving that there's a way to chase your cares away
If you would lose your weary blues
Shake 'em away
Gotta chase those cares away
Just to prove that there's a way
A way to shake shake your blues away"
Alastor plays the last riff of piano keys and ends the song. I clap along with the rest of the crowd.
'They've got pretty good musical chemistry,' I think to myself. 'She seems nice…It seems they have history together.'
Alastor takes a hold of Rosie's hand and they bow together. After their bow, they make their way back over to me.
"That was splendid!" I congratulate them.
"Thank you, dear," Rosie smiles with a nod. "Alastor plays the piano so well."
"With your chemistry, I assume you perform regularly together," I continue the southern accent.
"Not as much as before. Nowadays, Alastor is busy with his business and whatever mischief he's up to."
"Ha ha! Right you are!" Alastor chuckles. "Would you like a drink?" He offers Rosie.
"Why yes," she nods.
"Another glass of whiskey," he tells the bartender.
"Still indulging in whiskey, I see," Rosie tells Alastor.
"It's the finest drink in my opinion," he takes a glass of whiskey and hands it to her.
"So how did you two meet again?" Rosie glances at me and Alastor.
"On business affairs," Alastor replies.
"Is that so?" Rosie eyes me.
"I work in logistics," I lie. "I met Alastor while sorting out paperwork for his business."
"How interesting," she continues to eye me. "Judging by your accent, I assume you're from the south."
"Yes, the lovely south!"
"Where exactly?" She continues to pry, as if testing me.
"New Orleans," I quickly reply.
"Oh, just like Al, here," she glances at him. "That must also be how you two are acquainted."
"Yup! New Orleans – said to be the birthplace of jazz!" I continue to put up a front.
"Very interesting," Rosie continues to eye me.
Alastor notices how Rosie is examining me and takes this as a cue to leave.
"I hate to leave so soon," he says. "But I must get going. I have an important business affair to get to early in the morning and need my rest. Bright and early!"
"Oh, just when we were getting so well acquainted," Rosie eyes me again.
"I shall escort Mary home before resting for the night," Alastor holds his arm out for me to take. "Enjoy the rest of the night. Farewell," he bows a bit.
"I bid you goodnight," Rosie nods.
Alastor swiftly leads me out of the salon and we head down the block.
"What's the matter?" I ask as he continues to hurry us away.
"She kept trying to see where she knew you from," he replies. "It would be unpleasant for her to recognize you. She would spread our affiliation like wildfire."
"Oh…" I gaze down in thought. "That wouldn't be good at all."
I look down in thought.
"You and Rosie have good stage chemistry," I say.
"We are well acquainted," Alastor says.
"You two perform together?"
"We used to. I've gotten too occupied with my dealings here as an overlord in Hell that I no longer have the time for that."
"But you enjoyed her company?"
"To a certain extent. Nothing more than performers."
I think for a moment at his responses.
"Well I think you two would make a cute couple," I say.
"Of course not!" Alastor shakes his hand at me. "That's whacky nonsense!"
"I'm just saying," I shrug.
We make it to my car and head inside.
"That was fun!" I turn the car on. "Even if it wasn't long, I still had fun. Thanks for taking me there!"
I turn to Alastor with a genuine smile. He's taken aback but this time he feels something odd in his stomach. He doesn't like the feeling and shakes it off. I drive off down the road. There's a silence between us other than the low music on the radio.
"I'm glad to have made her acquaintance," I speak in my southern accent. "Rosie seems like a nice gal."
"You're enjoying yourself with that accent," Alastor is amused.
"Why yes, it's rather fun."
"Mary, am I right? From New Orleans?"
"Mary it is! And New Orleans is right! The lovely south!"
"But Mary?" Alastor raises a brow.
"What about my name?" I still continue the southern accent and manner.
"It doesn't fit you."
"How dare you disrespect my name!" I joke.
"Elena is far better."
"Thanks," I return to my normal voice with a giggle. "I think so too."
Alastor chuckles, still amused at my accent and act.
"You'd make a great actress, too," he says.
"I am rather dramatic," I have a smug smile.
"There's no question about it."
"But you're no different, Mr. Radio Host."
"I do enjoy putting on a show," he has a smug smile.
"So were you a radio host when you were alive?"
"It's fairly obvious I was."
"I bet you were famous, like you are here in Hell."
"You'd be surprised."
"I bet you were popular with the ladies, too."
"Women swooned over me, but I had no interest."
"You seriously didn't have a first love or something?"
"Not in the slightest."
"I wonder what your type would be…" I wonder.
"What?"
"Perhaps a lady who's tall...but not too tall."
"Please, don't."
"With a bob haircut maybe. And a lovely singing voice."
"That's enough," he waves his hand. "You sound like Vox."
"What? I'm just trying to see what kinda gal you'd be into if you did want to pursue someone."
Alastor gazes out the tinted window, immediately thinking of me. I fit that description fairly well. But of course he's not going to admit it.
"I'll drop you off at your place," I interrupt his thoughts. "We'll call it a night. I'm pretty tired."
I yawn as I continue to drive. Alastor keeps his gaze out the window, still in thought.
