Quick note: I tried to make the slang as accurate as possible, but if anyone notices something they know is wrong, don't hesitate to tell me!
The Roaring 20's:
Sydney detested the place the moment she saw it.
"Carly, can we please just not go?" Sydney pleaded, and shivered for the millionth time that night as a breeze chilled her bare arms and legs. Those were not places she usually felt breeze, and she'd gladly be rid of this stupid, short, red flapper dress as soon as possible.
"Come on, Syd. Live a little!" Carly smiled. "And besides, you're all dolled up."
Carly dragged her sister across the street, toward a joint that poured music into the night each time the door opened. It was accompanied, Sydney noted unenthusiastically, by a plume of cigarette smoke.
"Father will kill us when he learns we visited a speakeasy." Sydney warned Carly, blinking her eyes rapidly. She was still getting used to the heavy makeup.
Born and raised by high society, I was. And I much prefer it, if it means escaping these sequins and stupid head ornaments.
"If, Sydney." Carly chided her sister's pessimism. "If father finds out—which he won't. I've been hundreds of times and he doesn't know. I even came home positively splifficated once and he paid no mind."
"You think he doesn't know." Sydney muttered. "And what does splifficated mean?"
"He doesn't know." Carly ignored her question.
A few hushed words with a man on the other side of the door, and Carly was leading her sister into a decent sized brick building. People danced everywhere—and in much closer quarters than Sydney would deem appropriate. A band was onstage, playing away, intoxicated by the same rush that held the audience.
"Oh, I really don't like this." Sydney's distaste was clear on her face.
"Smile," Carly had to shout to be heard over the music and bustle. "Get a wiggle on!"
"No!" Sydney protested.
"Well I'm not going to let you stand around all night like a Mrs. Grundy." Carly rolled her eyes. "Come on, it's really fun!"
"I-" Sydney cut herself off when she realized what she was about to say.
I don't want to have fun.
Gosh, she really was a—how did Carly put it?—Mrs. Grundy.
She let her sister lead her out onto the floor. "I don't know how to dance like this."
"It's easy," Carly told her. "Just go with the beat. Go with the crowd. Don't think."
"Don't think?" Sydney said incredulously.
Her sister laughed. "I know it'll be hard, but just try it! Just tonight? Please?"
Sydney stiffly moved her hips, watching as other people completely let themselves go. They looked deranged.
"Not like that!" Her sister rolled her eyes and placed her hands on Sydney's hips. "Like this!"
Her sister led her, and Sydney winced as she realized the wide range of motion her hips were making. "I'm not exactly comfortable with this."
"That's because you're not going doing what I said." Her sister stopped dancing. "Sydney, no one is going to judge you. We're all here for the same reason."
"To become criminals?"
"To have a swell time." Her sister gave her a look, then a wicked grin spread across her face. "Watch me shimmy."
And shimmy she did.
Sydney gasped. "Carly!"
Several men whistled. Sydney shot glares at each of them, and they looked away in turn.
Well, almost all of them looked away. There was one—a sandy-haired, blue-eyed man—who merely winked. Sydney gave him an extra dose of menace and he finally averted his eyes.
"I don't suppose you know any of them, do you?" Sydney asked disapprovingly.
"The blonde one is named Keith." Carly had moved on to a less provocative dance. "He's a cute egg, but he's almost always doped."
"I don't like him." Sydney said.
"You don't like anything or anyone in this building." Her sister sighed—a sigh which couldn't be heard over the band. "Sydney, just try. You went into this thinking you'd hate it. Please just wipe the slate clean and dance with an open mind?"
Sydney nodded reluctantly. "Alright."
"Jake." Her sister beamed. "Now, copy me."
And so the night went on—Carly showing Sydney all her risqué and modern moves, and Sydney slowly learning to perform them with confidence.
"You know what would make this night the bee's knees?" Carly asked.
"What?" Sydney stopped dancing. She was breathing hard, and although she still absolutely looked down on places like these, she couldn't remember the last time she'd had so much fun.
"A little drink." Her eyes sparkled.
"No." Sydney said resolutely. "I draw the line at drinking."
Carly put on a pleading look. "Please?"
"No."
"Pretty please?"
"The answer is still no."
"Oh, don't be such a wet blanket. That was your answer to dancing, and look how well that turned out." Her sister pointed out. "You're having a fabulous time."
"Dancing doesn't get you a jail sentence." Sydney replied. "Alcohol does."
Carly took her sister's hands. "Just a little one? Nothing that'll get you too zozzled, just give you an edge. Then you can say you've lived the flapper experience, if only for just one night."
Sydney scowled. "A little one. Then, we leave."
"A little one, then we'll ankle some more, and then we'll leave." Her sister corrected. Next, she began the complicated process of weaving through the crowd.
"Carly?" Sydney hadn't realized how far into the crowd they'd been. She began to lose track of the deep blue of Carly's dress within the colorful mass. Further, further, gone.
Great.
"Carly?" She called again, but there came no answer.
Sydney looked around, trapped in the mass of moving bodies with no idea which way she was facing.
"You're a lost little bunny."
Sydney didn't realize until a moment later that the comment was meant for her. When she did, she turned to face the speaker and was surprised when she found herself face to face with what might possibly have been the most gorgeous male specimen she'd ever set eyes on. Chiseled features and styled brown hair framed vibrant green eyes that imprinted themselves in her mind.
"Oh." She said, then shook her head. "Yes. I am. Could you point me to the bar?"
"If it's a drink you're looking for, I've got one right here." He lifted a glass. It was filled halfway with some sort of brown liquid.
Sydney faltered. "Ah, well, I was looking for something… different."
He grinned. "You sure?" She nodded. "Follow me."
Then, in a gesture that startled her, he grabbed her hand and began to push through the fray.
She kept with him—though only because he wouldn't let go.
Finally, the bodies became less crowded—though, unfortunately, the cigarette smoke became thicker. The music wasn't so jarringly close, and the newfound quiet made room for other noises.
"Sydney?" She heard her sister's voice.
"Carly!" Sydney scanned as best she could from her relatively short height.
"Sydney," her sister appeared in front of her, her hand over her heart. "Goodness, I'd thought I'd lost you."
"You did." Sydney told her.
"Sorry." The face she wore was apologetic, though it soon morphed into a grin. "And who might this be?"
"Adrian." The man introduced himself.
"Mmmm," her sister held out an arm for a shake. Sydney didn't know if she'd really expected him to shake it; however, she wasn't all that surprised when he pressed a kiss to the back of her sister's hand. Where before she would never have known a man to do something so bold, now it hardly fazed her.
The night has changed me.
While he was bent over her hand, Carly mouthed 'cake-eater.'
Sydney had no idea what that meant. 'What?'
'Dewdropper' She tried again.
Sydney shrugged.
Their exchange took only a few seconds, and soon Adrian raised his head.
"This is Sydney's first time," Carly said conversationally. "You wouldn't believe how much wrangling it took to get her here. I'm quite proud of myself."
"Really?" Adrian appraised Sydney. "Well, you did splendidly, if I do say so myself. She's a pretty bird in red."
Pink bloomed on Sydney's cheeks. Right. The short, red dress. She'd almost managed to forget it.
"And how." Carly agreed. "She turned out to be less of a canceled stamp than I thought she'd be."
"She dances like a natural." He nodded.
"You saw us?" You'd think he'd just complimented her from the way she responded.
"That I did. I was tempted to join in." He took a sip of whatever was in his cup.
"Well, you're just in time for Sydney's first drink." Carly turned her gaze to her sister.
"Something small." Sydney warned her sister again. Carly had that look in her eyes, the one she sometimes got before pulling off an idea that she deemed brilliant, but Sydney deemed stupid.
"Right, right. Don't worry." Carly turned toward the bar. "Wait here. I'll get you something good."
Carly squirmed her way into the small pack of people surrounding the bar.
Sydney sighed and turned back to Adrian, who was studying her with the oddest look on his face.
"What?" She asked.
Adrian shook his head. "You really do look marvelous in red."
"Oh…" Sydney fidgeted with her dress. "Thank you. It's a color I usually avoid."
"You shouldn't." Adrian advised. "If I were you, I'd wear red all the time."
Sydney shook her head and smiled. "Well, then, take a good long look. I guarantee I'll never be seen in red again." As soon as she said it, she couldn't believe the words had come out of her mouth. Had she really just invited a man to look at her? Her father would be appalled if he knew.
Adrian threw back his head and laughed. It was a nice laugh, infectious too. "Is that so?"
"It is."
"And are you certain there is nothing I can do to change your mind?"
"Nothing."
"What a pity," Adrian swirled his drink. "Well, if I'm never to see you in these glad rags again, I suppose I should make the most of tonight." He held out his arm. "May I have this dance?"
Sydney hesitated and looked toward her sister, who'd squeezed her way up to the front and was now placing an order.
"Or perhaps we should consider a run." Adrian said.
"What?" Sydney turned back to him and discovered he was looking toward the front of the joint, where things had grown even more chaotic than before.
"Yes, a run." Adrian grabbed Sydney's arm and pulled. "We've got coppers."
Sydney knew what that meant, and she knew running was most definitely a good idea.
"Carly!" She called as they hurried past the bar. "Adrian, my sister."
"Is behind us." Adrian assured her. And a look back revealed that she was indeed behind them. A lot of people were.
They reached a back door in a matter of seconds, and they burst out into the night.
When compared to the intense waves of body heat she'd been constantly bombarded with indoors, the outdoors was a cruel smack in the face. Sydney felt the goose bumps rise on her arms.
"Hey!" A voice shouted.
"Oh, lovely, they've got the place surrounded." Adrian mused as several people pushed past them from behind and ran out onto the streets.
"What do we do?" What worry Adrian failed to express in his tone Sydney had cram packed into hers.
He shrugged. "Let's cheese it. Wasn't that always the plan?"
And so they ran.
It was difficult at first. Their height difference made matching pace a challenge, and Sydney's shoes didn't help any.
But she found her balance, and they held tight to one another's hands.
Holding hands with him again? That's twice in less than 10 minutes.
There was an officer right on their heels at one point, but as Adrian lead them through a series of alley's and side streets he fell farther and farther behind, and was eventually lost.
When they finally stopped, Sydney was wheezing as was Adrian; yet, they were both grinning madly.
"I'll bet you've never done that before."
Sydney giggled breathlessly. "It's a night of firsts."
"First high speed police pursuit."
"Last high speed police pursuit."
"First speakeasy."
"Last speakeasy."
"First red dress."
"Last red dress."
He caught his breath and shot her a sly look. "First kiss."
All of a sudden his breath was on her cheek, and she jerked away before his lips could get any closer.
"I've been kissed before." Sydney declared.
"Have you?" He arched an eyebrow.
She hadn't, and from the way he was looking at her, he knew it.
He leaned closer, she paused, then swayed a bit forward and their lips connected.
It was crazy, but they were kissing. It was electric. Whoever first conceived the idea of kissing was a genius. His lips were soft and melded perfectly against hers.
And then he had to go and open his mouth.
What is that…?
Sydney wrinkled her nose and pulled away. "So that's what alcohol tastes like."
"You've got a keen kisser." Sydney wasn't the best at deciphering tones, but it sounded as if he'd enjoyed it. "Hey, you never had your first drink." Adrian realized.
He stepped away, and held something up. It took a few moments, but Sydney finally recognized it for what it was. "You still have your drink."
Only a small bit remained, most of it had splashed out in the chase, but there it was.
"We were being chased down by police men and you didn't drop your drink?" She was amazed to say the least.
Adrian shrugged. "I like my vices."
Sydney took the drink in her hand. Tipping her head back, she swallowed. There'd barely been enough left inside for it to even qualify as a sip, but it was enough for Sydney to realize it was a foul tasting substance.
"Attagirl!"
She made a face. "You know, maybe they were on to something in outlawing this stuff."
Adrian shook his head. "Just you wait. It'll grow on you."
"First and last drink, remember?" Sydney handed the glass back.
"This was more of a teaser." Adrian shook his head. "Wait until I get some real alcohol in you."
It was then that Sydney realized what she'd just done. She'd evaded law enforcement, shared a kiss with a man she barely knew, and then knocked back his beverage. And now he was promising to get her drunk.
"I'm a felon." She said numbly. "I'm a felon and a… a hotsy-totsy and—"
"Now, now," Adrian interrupted. "No need to cast a kitten. You're not a hotsy-totsy—that's not even how the word is used. I believe the term you're looking for is Sheba." At the look on her face, he added, "But, if it makes you feel better, you come off like a downright bluenose."
"Bluenose? That's another thing! I haven't understood half the things I've heard tonight. Zozzled, canceled stamp, dewdropper. What do those things even mean?"
Adrian rested a hand on her shoulder. "Sydney, calm down. It's a new world you've ventured into. You can't expect to understand it all at once. And besides," he continued before Sydney could say something else, "now you have at least one exciting story to tell the kids."
Sydney shook her head. "No one will ever know about this night but me, you, and Carly."
"Alright, stay mum about it." Adrian draped an arm around her. "But you made a friend. That's got to count for something."
Sydney tensed under his arm, but relaxed after a moment. She let out a long sigh and nodded. "I suppose. Even if you are a cake-eater and a dewdropper—whatever those words mean."
"Who called me that?" He sounded insulted.
"Carly. Why?" Sydney asked.
He shook his head. "At least she didn't call me a skid rogue."
"What is a skid rogue?" Sydney asked, getting annoyed. "Have you been called that before?"
Adrian chuckled. "You have so much to learn, Sydney. I don't know how I'll have enough time to teach you."
"Start with cake-eater. What does that mean?"
"It means I like women." Adrian smirked. "And she's right on with that one."
Sydney rolled her eyes. "Now, what about dewdropper?"
"A dewdropper is someone who lazes around in bed all day with nothing better to do."
Sydney waited a moment, and then said, "I notice you don't validate the term."
"I'm not a dewdropper." Adrian assured her.
Sydney stayed silent.
"I am not!" Adrian insisted. "I have far better things to do than lay around getting bed sores." He dropped his arm from her shoulder. "Speaking of better things to do—I can get us into a spiffy juice joint that's just a few blocks down. What do you say about being my date?"
Sydney shook her head. "I'd better get home. I'm worried about Carly. I hope she made it out."
Adrian nodded. "Another night, then. For now, I'll settle for walking you home."
Sydney raised her eyebrows. "You're going to walk me home?"
"What kind of egg did you take me for?" Adrian held out an arm for the second time that night, and this time she took it.
"Not the kind to walk a woman home." Sydney said.
"Well," Adrian set his glass on the sidewalk, "I'll have you know I am."
"You're also a litterer." Sydney eyed the cup.
"He's a dead soldier." Adrian said in excuse. "What am I to do? It's not like I can return it."
"I suppose you've got a point there."
They walked in silence for a while. They stopped once so Adrian could give her his coat, and then they kept going.
"Well, this is it." Sydney stopped in front of a large, Victorian-style mansion.
"Swanky." Adrian remarked.
"Fancy, you mean."
"Same difference." Adrian smiled. "You're learning."
"I am."
"You know, I never caught your last name." Adrian said.
"Sage. Sydney Sage." She held out her hand. When he gently grabbed it, she shook, and then pulled it away before it met his lips.
He stood stunned for a moment, and then laughed. "You know, Sage, I reckon you've made me a bit goofy for you tonight. Do you know what that means?"
"I can infer." Sydney told him. "Now, what's your last name?"
He swept into an elaborate bow. "Adrian Ivashkov. Pleased to meet you."
Sydney smiled. "You're doing pretty swanky yourself."
"Life isn't all bad." He agreed.
She waited a moment. "Well, the lights are off. That's a good sign."
"It is."
"I should go."
"I guess. Since we walked all the way here."
Sydney didn't move.
"It's not too late to go to that ritzy place I was telling you about."
Sydney smiled. "Maybe I'll see you again, Adrian." She handed him his coat and then headed up the steps.
"Sage, wait." Adrian stopped her.
"Yes?"
His face was serious. "About that drink…"
Sydney came back down the steps. "I think it's been established that I'm not one for… giggle juice." She watched his face carefully. "But I do like coffee?"
"You like Java?" He sounded surprised.
"Coffee." She corrected.
"Coffee's good. Coffee's great." Adrian nodded. "How about Tuesday?"
"Tuesday is fine."
He beamed. "Tuesday it is."
The End.
Quick question: does anyone else have the crazy head canon that Sydney's mom came from a family of magic users? I mean, think about it. Sydney says she doesn't really know her family on her mom's side. Also, if the traces of magic in her blood mean she's got magic and is a witch, then wouldn't it be hereditary? Maybe Sydney's mom couldn't do magic or hated magic so she married an alchemist. Or maybe I'm just making stuff up to justify why she would marry Jared Sage.
Oh, well. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!