Well, I own nothing to do with the Blacklist. I just am a massive fan.

So, I just watched Public Enemies, and I love the true story of John Dillinger/Billie Frechette romance, and then it got me wondering how it would be like if Red was a bank robber in the 30s. This will be based in the 1930's, I'm not sure I have it completely close to the times, but I enjoyed writing this. Hopefully you will find enjoyment reading It, and if you think it is something worthy of continuing, feel free to let me know. :)

Off to The Races

(Set in the 1930s, Chicago)

My old man is a thief and I'm gonna stay and pray with him till the end
But I trust in the decision of the Lord to watch over us
Take him when he may, if he may
I'm not afraid to say that I'd die without him
- Off to the Races, Lana Del Ray

"Ellie, I'm not so sure about this one," Elizabeth said uneasily, looking down at the dress her friend had suggested she borrow and wear for the evening.

The dress was exquisite, Elizabeth couldn't possibly deny that, and although her good girlfriend was a size larger than she was, it still seemed to fit her perfectly. It was red satin and had butterfly sleeves, and finished just below her calves. But having spent most her days working modestly as a coat-check girl, she wasn't used to such fancy dress wear.

"Liz, you've got to," her friend insisted. "Where we're going to tonight, this is the kind of stuff a girl wears. Besides, what's wrong with it? Don't you like it?"

"Of course that isn't it, Ellie," Liz said. "I love it. I do." She turned to inspect the dress again, twisting her body a bit and looking down at the several inches of her legs that were showing. "I suppose I'm just not too sure about tonight. Where did you say we were going?"

"You look swell, I promise. And as to where we're heading out to tonight, I'm not telling you. Not until we get there, anyway. You'll just have to wait."

"Okay, fine." She sighed. "I'll wear the dress. But wherever we're going, if I don't like the look of it then we're leaving first instance I say so, all right?"

xxxxx

"Come on," Ellie said, pulling herself out of the car in a darkly lit industrial area that Liz did not recognize. "We're here. This will be fun, I promise you. We'll have a swell time."

"What is this place?" Liz asked, following her friend anxiously.

They went into a lit alleyway where a recessed wooden red door was , and Liz watched her friend as Ellie rapped her knuckles on the door three times and then stood back, adjusting her dress around her hips. A rectangular peephole slid open, revealing a pair of deep-set eyes belonging to a man, and Liz could hear the sound of a party and band playing behind him.

With one glance at her friend, the peephole shut. Liz heard her friend sigh impatiently, and then there was the unmistakable sound of a deadbolt being slid back. The door swung open, and a man with a bushy beard looked them over before stepping aside to the let the two girls in for the evening.

They stepped through a marbled foyer, past a coat check, and descended down a set of steps to where the party was pulsing around the building. Liz hesitated at the first step in her high heels, taking it one easy careful step at a time, and once she reached the last step, she followed Ellie cautiously towards the sound of jazz music. From a high ceiling hung elaborate crystal chandeliers, and the surroundings before them opened up into a large, marble-floored dance hall. One section of the room was the dance floor filled with couples already jamming, and in another were tables and areas to sit and mingle in groups.

Wafts of whitish-grey smoke from cigars and cigarettes encompassed the sitting area, and as Liz peered past the sea of heads on the dance floor, she could see a band playing on a raised platform. Across from them and down to the left was where a wood-paneled bar was, where a man in a tuxedo was serving liquor.

"Let's get a table and sit," Ellie suggested through the music, and Liz agreed and followed her friend passively while she looked around at their surroundings with a mixture of both rapture and confusion. They found an available table and pulled out their chairs, sitting close by each other while they looked around and took in everything.

"How did you know where to find this place?" Liz asked, searching for any other familiar faces in the room. At that moment, the music died down and there was a loud murmuring of voices before applause broke out from around the tables. Wanting to fit in, Liz quickly joined in by clapping her hands together and then the band started with another song.

"I met a good fellow who suggested this place," Ellie explained to her. "He told me if I was interested in a good time and cutting up, then this was the place. What do you think? It's wonderful enough, isn't it?"

"It is," Liz admitted, feeling a little overwhelmed by it all. "I haven't been out like this in a long while. It was nice of you to suggest I come."

Just then, laughter broke out abruptly from a group of people four tables away from them and Liz's eye was drawn to the sounds. The instance her eyes made a curious sweeping of the group- which consisted of five men and two women- it occurred to her that one of the men was staring directly at her.

He seemed to be the only one in the group that hadn't laughed, as if he was too preoccupied with staring over at her to take any of the conversations shared around the table in. He had a cigar streaming with smoke in his right hand and Liz was stunned by the gall he had to not look away from her, even while knowing she had caught his staring.

His eyes seemed to go all the way through her. He was wearing a pin-striped white dress shirt, dark grey vest, tie tucked in, and black slacks for the evening. His dress sense and the noisy characters he surrounded himself with at the table suggested they were of upper-class calibre in the socioeconomic ladder. He was a man of both wealth and taste.

Liz held his gaze as she smiled tentatively at him.

He just stared at her for a moment longer and smiled a little bit with the corners of his mouth and then, finally, he looked off in another direction while slipping his cigar between his lips, pursing them, and taking in a puff. Liz was still watching him as he reached around in his chair and retrieved a black fedora. As he rose to his feet and placed his hat on the table in front of where he was sitting, he bent down to stub his cigar out in an ashtray on the table, and then he was making a start around the table in what seemed to be her direction.

She glanced away quickly, sat one elbow on the table, and rested her chin in the heel of her hand, not daring to glance his way again. She got an unnerving feeling that he was going to approach her and try to mingle with her, and when she let her eyes slide sideways, she saw that the fellow was indeed approaching, his eyes fixated exactly on her and nothing else in the room. There appeared to be a determined way of his stride and countenance, and even from this distance away, Liz could feel the heat of the fellows gaze as he looked at her as if she were the only one worthy of looking at in the room.

"Shall we get something to drink?" Ellie's voice broke through Liz's looking, and she seemed to follow her gaze. "You know that fellow, Liz? He seems to be making his way over here?"

Liz shook her head silently. She was certain she didn't know the man at all. She didn't recognize him, but she could tell just by catching him staring at her from his seat at his table that he had looked at her in a way that told her he liked her already more than just a little bit.

When the fellow reached their table with his hands tucked deeply in his trouser pockets, stopping before them, Liz felt her heart pounding furiously as she looked up at him. Again, his eyes were only on her. It was as if Ellie, her good and admittedly better-looking friend, was non-existent to him. Up closer, Liz thought he was a very handsome fellow, although older.

"Good evening." The man's voice was deep, soft, and still, he seemed barely aware of her friend's presence, so focused did his attention seem to be on Liz.

"Good evening, sir," Liz replied, struggling to keep her voice even.

"You look incredibly beautiful this evening. That is a ravishing dress you're wearing." Liz felt her cheeks glow warm under his intense scrutiny, as he lowered his eyes and slowly took in every inch of the dress he could see she was wearing from under the tabletop tonight. She definitely had Ellie to thank for letting her borrow it this evening. "Care for a drink? I'm buying."

Liz eyebrow's rose slightly, taken aback by his words. The man was certainly not bothering to go to extreme lengths to hide his delight in the look of her appearance, and she couldn't remember meeting someone who was so bold and straightforward before.

"I appreciate the offer, sir," she said, "But I'm not drinking tonight."

"Hmm." He chewed the inside of his cheek as he seemed to mull that over, still paying her friend no attention. "If not a drink, how about a dance then?"

Instantly, she felt like declining. She could not understand this man at all, no less why he had taken such a sudden interest in her. But then she peered around the room, saw how everyone else seemed to be having a jolly good time on the dance floor, and decided, Why shouldn't she? What harm would be done? After all, Ellie had brought her there this evening with the intentions of letting loose and having a swell time.

She looked over at her friend, who shrugged and smiled at her encouragingly.

"All right then. A dance would be fine."

Getting to her feet, Liz hesitated as the man held a hand out to her, and then she decided she was acting rather immature, so toughening herself up, she accepted his hand and slid her hand through his, allowing him to lead her towards the dance floor.

The band stopped, there was a round of applause through the room, and then a softer, slower song began playing.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" He asked her through the music.

"Liz," she answered softly, and once they had found a nice spot to dance, they turned and faced one another. She looked him over carefully with her eyes as he slipped in closer and placed a hand on her waist gently, and she reached up to rest her hand on his shoulder as they began moving to a basic two-step. "You got a name yourself?" she asked him, when he didn't voluntarily give her his.

"Of course." The warmth of his fingers seemed to soak through the satin of her dress, and as he met her eyes, he smiled at her. "The name's Red."

For a moment, she assumed he was joking and she lifted her chin up and laughed softly over the music. But when she caught his eyes again, she quickly realized otherwise. His expression was quite unreadable, but she gathered he was nothing if not serious on that. "Red," she whispered softly in acceptance. "That's it? Just... Red? Like the color of my dress?"

"Yes, exactly like the color of your dress. And your lipstick."

"That's a strange name for a man? Just... Red?"

"Well, yes. It's more so of a... nickname that I have been granted over the years."

Liz was surprised to find she was enjoying herself already, in dancing with this stranger. His touch and closeness didn't seem in any way uncomfortable. In fact, the only thing remotely uncomfortable that she found about the situation, was how he gazed at her with his green eyes.

She went back and forth out of nerves, between looking him in the eyes and looking across his shoulder, but each time she let herself look at him, his gaze seemed unwavering and solely on her and nothing else in the room. It was as if she was an exotic broad, something intriguing to him that he couldn't work out. In contrast, Liz hardly felt there was anything new or exciting about herself at all.

She lived a modest, if yet boring life. She worked days as a coat check girl, and still lived with her father in their apartment on the West side of town. If it hadn't been for Ellie insisting she head out this evening, she would have simply been stuck indoors doing nothing fresh or different.

"You're a very good dancer, Red," she said, to break the ice.

"Thank you. You are, also."

She had to think of something to say. All she came up with, which was hardly clever, was, "Why Red? Why the nickname Red? You got a real name to give me?"

He seemed uncomfortable on the topic. "Let's not talk about all that. It's such a trivial matter," he said dismissively. She felt the movement of his shoulder beneath her hand as he shrugged. "Tell me about yourself instead, Lizzie." The way he readily made up a nickname for her, something no one else usually called her as, it sent a shiver of delight through her. She found she did not mind being called that at all. Especially not in his rich, smoky voice that she took instant liking to. "What do you do? Do you come here often? I so want to know."

She felt a flare of disappointment that he hadn't answered her question. But hopefully they could come to that again later. "There's nothing all that interesting about me," she admitted humbly. "I check coats at the Steuben Club. I still live with my father. This is the first time I've come here. I don't come out very often." Talking about herself was enough to put her to sleep. "So, what do you do? Surely that is far more interesting than hearing about me all night..."

"Oh, no. On the contrary, I find you to be very interesting."

She leaned back a little. She couldn't tell whether he was just fooling. "Do you?"

"Yes. Extremely so." His hold on her hand loosened and she felt like retreating away from him when his fingers grazed the scar on the inside of her wrist, something she had gotten when she was a child. "Is this a scar I see, on your wrist? What happened? How did you get it?"

"What does it matter?" she asked, feeling quickly on the defensive. "I've had it since I was a little girl. Most men don't like that about me- the scar, the... deformity. There was a fire and I hurt myself. It turns them off, makes them feel I'm different from all the other girls. Most men don't like it about me, okay?"

"Well, let me reassure you," he said, running his thumb along the puckered mark, "I'm not like most men."

"Oh, yeah?" She couldn't say she believed him, despite how different he seemed from all the rest.

"In fact, I'm confident you will never meet another man like me. Not for miles and miles." Startling her, he brought her hand closer, turned his face towards her wrist, and she felt the warmth of his breath and his lips as he pressed them to her burn on her wrist. As he leaned back to look at her, he gave her a kind smile. "And this certainly isn't going to put me off, nor is it anything repulsive like other things I've seen that comes naturally with my particular lifestyle."

It took her a moment to get over the shock of him doing such a thing to her. Liz was used to men, particularly her age, catching a glimpse of her burns and reeling in disgust. Not this man, though. He hardly looked bothered by it one bit, obviously. But once he interlaced his fingers through hers and started moving again as the band played on, Liz recollected herself.

"So do you come here often?" she enquired, a little breathlessly.

"No, I've never been here before tonight. This usually isn't my scene, but a few friends insisted that we have some fun here tonight."

"Are you from around this part of Chicago?" she murmured quickly, desperate not to let them fall into an awkward silence.

"You could say that I'm from everywhere. I never stay in one place for too long. I enjoy constant change. I live for unpredictability. Me and my friends over there, we're constantly on the move. We never stay in a place more than three days at a time. It is certainly far safer that way for us."

To hear him talk and tell her these things, Liz couldn't deny it was so very fascinating. She had always dreamed of getting out-of-town and travelling, experiencing the world. Only, with her father ill and having to rely on her, that was out of the question. She loved her father too much to leave him. However this man, Red, clearly had different views and lived a different way of life than she did- whatever that lifestyle may be, it didn't seem as if he wanted to disclose it to her- but it was undoubtedly fascinating, the way he talked about it rather passionately.

"So you're a traveler? You never stay in one spot for too long?"

"Yes."

"I've always dreamed of myself being like that," she confessed quietly. "The idea of travelling has always appealed to me. There has to be so much more to this world than I've seen or experienced. I'd love to go on a bit of an... adventure. It has just always sounded so awfully-" Her words were interrupted when a man approached them grimly. She recognized him as one of the man's companions from his table.

The man was dark-skinned and tall, wearing a black trench coat and a cap over his head. "Ray," she heard him speak over the music urgently, and it occurred to her that he was addressing the man she was currently mingling and dancing with.

Sending an apologetic smile her way, the fellow who told her his name was Red (yet was called Ray by the other man) dropped his hand from her waist and separated himself from her to give the man his undivided attention.

She watched as the man clapped Red - or Ray, she was a bit confused what to call him- on his shoulder and leaned down to say something in his ear.

"It's time to go," Liz thought she heard the man tell him. "They're outside. Now's a good enough time as any to make a move out of here, unless you want to go into the can again?"

"That's a ridiculous question, my friend," Red laughed at the man's words, and the man patted him on the back again while Red accepted the black fedora he then passed him- something which obviously belonged to him. He placed his fedora on his head and turned to look at her.

"Ray?" she whispered in confusion.

He glanced over at the table at where the rest of his friends were, and the group of men had already stood from their seats, gathering their things, and seemed to be preparing to leave also with the women in tow. She watched the side of his jaw clench. "Yes, that's my name, Lizzie."

"You told me your name was Red, now you're telling me it's Ray. Which is it?"

"Both," he explained, straightening his spotted tie that was neatly tucked in. "It was a little half-truth on my part." He patted down the breast pockets of his fancy suit, as if checking ahead of time that he had something with him, and when he finally met her eyes again, his mouth opened and then closed up, as if he was unsure how to say his farewells to her. "Unfortunately I'll have to be leaving you now. There is really no more time to stay, regrettably. But thank you, Lizzie."

"What for, sir?"

"For indulging me in a dance and for letting me talk with you. I haven't had the opportunity to do that with a beautiful woman in months. It has been a true pleasure."

He gave her a tip of the brim of his hat with his fingers, threw a quick enigmatic smile her way. Then he was gone, striding away from the dance floor like a man desperate to leave before something bad fell upon him. Liz tried to follow him with her eyes, only the place was too crowded and she lost sight of him fairly quickly.

Then it happened.

Suddenly there was a loud commotion as the door burst open, and the FBI were filling in with rifles in their hands. There was a loud scream from everyone in the room, couples stopped dancing, seated people who were mingling stood up in alarm.

"No one move!" One of the officers cried. "Everyone please remain seated and calm. There is no cause for concern. We're just looking for a group of men! Please remain seated and then once we're done, you can all be on your way."