It was the champagne.
The three-story infamous theater-turned dance hall bubbled like champagne, bursting with energy. Every night it glittered and glided with every type of New Yorker that existed. With dancing and drinking and other diversions, it was the height of fashion for sinners and sins alike.
It had to be the champagne, Daisy caught her own thought as she giggled and tripped up a set of stairs. Women always drank for free at the Haymarket, and they were expected to drink the champagne. Daisy had never had champagne. She had never been to the Haymarket before. She knew she shouldn't have been here now.
"It's these skirts, they are impossible to run or climb in." Audrey lamented as she tugged Daisy up the stairs. A set of unnecessarily swirling stairs, the kind that embodies the way too much champagne might make someone's vision spin. Daisy could feel the heat of the crowd on her cheeks, unaware or unable to grasp she was flushed. She had been dancing the night away for no other reason, but she had been asked by a handsome man.
"At the top of the stairs turn right, don't mind any of the activity in the hallway." Handsome directed. He was above, or below, it was hard to tell in the lights and the music and beat of the timeless evening. Audrey had a firm grip on Daisy and was pulling her up each step. Odd how this might feel like flying. Dancing had felt like flying as well. Audrey pulled her into smoke heavy shadows that crawled and climbed over a person. The birds were in a hallway now, the one above the dancing and the drinking. The one where there were rooms of other things. There was hushed giggling, low sensual sounds echoing about, and her senses came back to her.
"We shouldn't be here." Daisy hissed to Audrey. Audrey released her and shrugged.
"You had mentioned." Audrey smiled at her companion. Daisy caught the blaze of Audrey's brown eyes, glittering with a glassy gleam. Their footsteps were heavy as they continued forward, lacking every grace Daisy had perfected in the last decade.
"Quickly now." The man leading laughs and the shadow of his waving arm catches Daisy's attention.
There are doors along this hallway, and some alcoves, and Daisy recalls some of the others have been to the Haymarket. Was it Firecracker that had been a dancer? Did Hunter once tend bar? She had heard stories of the elicit behaviors of the three-story. Daisy tried to concentrate for a moment, but she couldn't sense danger.
"Oh, these are deliciously for us!" Audrey clamored as she lifted two champagne glasses from a nearby floating tray. The server was lost in the curtains of an alcove. The leader of their gang had reached the end of the hallway and held open a door for them. Daisy felt the bubbling up of a giggle as she ducked under the handsome man's arm. Never mind there was no reason for her to have to duck under his arm.
The back room was warmly lit by lamps lining the rich wood-paneled walls, and a couple of other men mostly milled about billiard tables.
"The Haymarket's Pool Hall!" Daisy exclaimed delightedly.
"Damn Champagne." Came the deep growled muttered response. Handsome had his arm around her waist and draped an arm over Audrey's shoulders. He was warm, smelled of ink and smoke like so many of the men Daisy had learned to trust before. He was softer though, rounder, in a way that Daisy recognized meant less strife.
She stole a glance over to his face, finding his warm gaze unapologetically on her. His eyes were the color of molasses deep and sweet but when the oil light caught them, they lighten to the color of the cookies she had once had. His brows were slightly furrowed, just enough for someone looking to notice he was thinking or concerned. Daisy wanted to reach up and smooth out his brow and as the thought crossed her face, the man laughed. A tinge of something mocking in his chuckle.
Arch. Archie Hughes, he had introduced himself before taking her hand in a dance. He had insisted on Arch as he settled a palm against her hip and turned her out. Daisy had never danced much until tonight, but Arch had guided her steps effortlessly.
Audrey grinned and waved a champagne glass in front of Daisy. The society miss was incredibly balanced and graceful in a way that made Daisy jealous in passing. The jealousy gave way to a thought that if not for the rigidly starched white shirt and plain gray skirt, identical to Daisy's current outfit, it might be undeniable that the graceful glittering girl would be recognized as Miss Audrey Kai.
Danger. The thought rang as Daisy clasped both her hands around the puckered bottom of the champagne glass.
"Care to wager?" Audrey was saying, smiling if Daisy was hearing it correctly. The noise in the room was dim, so much dimmer than the rest of the place had been. Murmurs and whispers, the thing that Daisy was best at – usually.
Archie Hughes guided the women to an empty table, one with a sturdy yet ornate wooden chair by the wall. Audrey slips away from Arch setting her champagne on the felt of the table before dancing to the pool cues lining the walls.
Arch sets Daisy down on the chair, using his movements to guide her reactions without force or touch until he rests his arms against hers on the rests. Daisy presses her glass to her lips and lets her tongue dance over the bubbles popping on the top of her beverage. Arch leans forward, sitting with his bottom lip almost touching the outer edge of the champagne glass.
"Daisy." Arch whispers. He is glaring at her.
"Arch." She hiccups.
"Maybe no more champagne after this one?" He murmurs. Daisy blinks at him, smiling at the way one of his curls has frizzed out behind his ear.
"You are very handsome." Daisy smiles at him. She lets her hand lift to push the curl back. Arch sighs and chuckles again.
"When I realized…" He begins and stops. Daisy let's her finger twist into the hair above his ear. Her cheeks are patchy and red and Arch looks helplessly at her.
The murmurs around them are still there, Daisy hears the words of a political conversation and another of a sensual affair. She catches the gossip, traps the tidbits without caring or trying.
"No one could have sold me the tale of Laces being the grounded dame in your pair," Arch mumbled into his own cheek as his gaze pressed into the corners of his eyes to catch Audrey meticulously studying pool cues.
Laces. Daisy jerked with recognition of the name on the stranger's lips. Champagne spilled out onto her lap. Arch curled his hands around her elbows, holding her.
"I'm not a threat. I promise." He doesn't smile, he keeps his face neutral as she glares at him. Daisy met Archie Hughes an hour before, maybe two? It was impossible to tell how long ago this night at the Haymarket had begun. She did not recognize his face, though she had known his name and Audrey had apparently met him nights before. Archie Hughes was a relatively young hotshot newspaperman.
Daisy had been against coming to the Haymarket. Yes, there was a rumor of a pool hall hidden in its depths. Clearly, a well-founded rumor as she surveyed her surroundings now. But Daisy being the bird she was praised to be knew that the Haymarket paid hefty bribes on a weekly basis to the police department. They could never include the Haymarket on a list that Audrey turned over, even if they did find the pool hall because it wouldn't be worth the ink it took to write it down. But Audrey had wanted to come, had cajoled and charmed. The society girl had done so well, for five nights, finding over two dozen pool halls and winning enough hustles that Daisy was beginning to feel guilty for not turning over their profit. Five nights of going unnoticed, of being successful, had made Daisy careless.
"I'm going to find you ladies something to nosh on, one of the servers should be able to get me something from the dining room." Arch was explaining softly.
Daisy let her eyes roam over his face, exploring if it was just her muddled mind that didn't recognize the face.
"Archie Hughes writes for the Tribune," Daisy stated slowly, breathing between each word through her nose. The corner of his eyes creased and lifted, smiling without his mouth. Ease and carefree with just the right amount of attention, Arch wasn't a fool.
"I do. There you agree then, no more champagne after this one?" He winked.
"A wager with a lady then?" Audrey taunted as she racked the table. Arch laughed again, a deep grumble as he stood back up.
"Upon my return, warm the table up for me Daisy?" Arch prompted.
Audrey was really very good at pool. She had made a fortune this week on this gamble, not because any of her opponents thought she would lose but because they delighted in playing with her. Jacob had taught her well and even Daisy wasn't immune to the fun of playing a game with her. The bird sipped at the bubbles again, scornful of how easy it was to drink the Champagne. Some strange joy bottled and poured into easy to grasp glasses.
Arch waited until she nodded before slipping out. The night was creeping closer into dawn and the reporter knew he only had so much more time to tend to the women before he must attend to his own work. He needed to somber Daisy.
It took approximately twenty minutes to find a tray of dinner rolls, olives, cheese, and lightly fried tomatoes. Arch still wasn't even sure how he had managed the small feast. He entered the backroom triumphantly to find the two women stripped down to their underskirts and stockings from knees to their boots playing a game of pool. Their gray skirts were forgotten in a pile on the floor.
Most of the men had ceased playing their own games, and Arch understood the flash almost a full minute after someone snapped a photograph.
Daisy sat on the edge of the table, with only one leg and the right side of her bum. Her hands wrapped around the top of the pool cue, as she rested her chin on her knuckles. The gold light of her hair flickered in the lamplight.
The other young woman was leaning forward, determination and concentration on her shot. Sam, he forced even his own thoughts to acknowledge the name she had given, willing her to appear as nothing but a dark-haired charming girl. Arch had been sure she hadn't been quite as taken with the champagne as Daisy, but it turned out that Sam was as good at her masks as everyone said she was.
Archie Hughes being the newspaperman he was, knew he should bury this story immediately, but he stood mesmerized as Daisy lost the game with a laugh.