T/W drugs, blood, and eating disorders.
A/N I do not wish to glamourize the use of drugs or eating disorders. However, I try to put lots of research into the time periods in which I write, and drug use was exceptionally common in such time as was restrictive eating in order to maintain the flapper figure. Since this story is from the POV of the OC, such behaviors are normalized to her. The same goes for the drinking. It was a common pastime of the decade. The same goes for phrases like Eskimo, we now know this is more of a slur but would have been fitting phrasing for this era
"No guests to show out this morning Ma'am?" George inquired, just a little too loudly, as he pulled the thick-lined curtains open. Bright beams of sunlight flooding into the room. Your head felt like there was a balloon that was being slowly inflated under your skull, the pressure building with each second of agonizing consciousness. You go to speak but your mouth is dry and sticky with thick saliva. Instead, the only sound that emanates from your cracked lips is a groan as waves of nausea wash over you.
George wheels around a silver cart with a plate of Eggs Benedict, the sight of which only added to the nausea you were feeling. However, a large glass of water and a bloody mary on the side was your saving grace. You brought the water to your lips and it felt like rain in the Saharah desert. Thirst quenched, you reached for the bloody mary. "I certainly hope you intend to eat something for breakfast." George scolded you as he shook a pill bottle and placed 2 small white tablets on the tray. "Well there's tomato in this, what does it matter if I eat them as cherry tomatoes or drink them down with vodka? And look, there's even celary! Anyway, you're the one that's plying me with pills this morning. See you do know how to have a good time." You picked up the pills and swallowed them back with another mouthful of bloody mary.
"They're aspirin Ma'am." He stated, sounding unimpressed with your antics. "Today you have lunch with the ladies of which I assume will be a liquid lunch. You will then forgo dinner to dance into the early hours of the morning. Maybe come home with a man and ingest something else. At what point do you actually consume anything of substance?" He condescended to you. "Well, I certainly intend on consuming my fair share of substances tonight." Making a sardonic jab at him. "I don't think I would consider inhaling a form of consuming." He countered. "Well as much as I love your wit first thing in the morning. You are not hired to think." Your tone was growing more irritated.
Finishing off your drinks, you were ready to face the day. You went to the phonograph, ready to play Sweet Georgia Brown but looked at the clock and realized that Alastor would still be doing his broadcast, now opting for the Radio. You catch the end of a song before Alastor's voice chimes in.
"Well that was Nat "King" Cole and this is WWL 833.3. Alastor on the air. We have a quick update on developing politics around the illegalization of alcohol. Mark your calendars ladies and gentlemen because come the 17th of January, the manufacturing, transportation, and sale of alcohol will now be prohibited. Instead, we will have to get merry on music and good conversation." You listened to the broadcast, he had a talent for making mundane politics, somehow sound interesting.
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You had washed last night's makeup off your face and begun to apply a fresh one. You didn't mind being late, it was fashionable. Last to arrive and first to leave, is the only way to ensure you left people wanting more of you. You slipped into a deep-waisted, loose-fitting day dress. Nothing in comparison to what you would be wearing tonight but another important thing your mother had taught you was to not look like you were trying too hard. Overdressing appeared as you were looking for attention and underdressing showed a slovenly lack of pride in one's appearance and appearances were everything.
George had called you a carriage to take you into town. As it pulled up outside The Black Beret, a French-inspired cafe that served overpriced coffee and afternoon tea service. However, they did sell one of the best gin rickey's in the local area but more so they were potent. Ruth had an on again off again relationship with one of the staff, Gabriel. She would never tell her father which is what led to arguments but the following week she would have him wrapped around her little finger again. Whilst the constant back and forth between the pair had become a draining part of your weekly discussions, it had its perks, Gabriel would always put an extra pour into your drinks.
"Oh, and we thought you'd never arrive!" Maria's shrill voice called out as you came into view of the group. "Well better late than never." You called back as you made your way to the usual table. The top of it was already laden with several glasses. "And you started without me?" You jested. "Well after last night, we thought you might sleep the entire day away." Alice chuckled out. "Now would I ever deny you ladies the delight that is my company?" You stated confidently. "Speaking of delightful company, have you heard Anna is absolutely spitting feathers and cursing your name as of last night?" Ruth chimed in as she returned from the bar, followed by Gabriel. He followed her around like a lap dog whenever she visited. "Just place them on the table and clear these ones up will you." She had cooed at him and he had followed her instructions, offering nothing more than a "As you wish." The two of them tried to keep up appearances in town although everyone knew. Despite lower-class women joining the workforce as secretaries and such. The people Ruth cared about knowing had nothing better to do than sit and gossip.
"So why is Anna spitting feathers?" You prompted Ruth. She took a long sip of her drink and pulled a soured face momentarily, never being much of one for strong drinks. "Well, who did you have on your arm last night walking home? A high profile bachelor like that and you just thought you could vanish into the night with him without anyone taking notice. Ruth took another sip of her cocktail, once again pulling the soured face. "Ladies I can assure you, nothing happened. He was actually quite the gentleman. Anyway if I had got my nails into him do you think he would have been able to make it to work this morning." You had purred out.
"So you would go there then? I thought your tastes were more...well more refined?" Maria piped up. "Well I can't deny he has a certain charm to him, does he not? A twinkle in the eye and quite the mischievous smirk. But Anna had not worry, I don't intend on getting shackled with a ring any time soon. She can have him when I am done with him. She should consider it a favor, I'm giving him a test drive so to speak and I'll be certain to give you ladies all the sordid details." You caught the look of disdain from Marie. Her family believed wealth should be associated with other wealth, there were rumors that her great-grandparents had been distant cousins.
The conversation slowly moved away from Alastor. On to topics such as music and fashion. For lunch, you ordered another bloody mary. Swirling the crimson, viscous liquid around in the glass. Your thoughts started to wander, crimson beads rolling, forming dark puddles. You excused yourself from the table to 'powder your nose'. A phrase used in your group since 1914 when cocaine was made illegal. However, you were still able to get your hands on things such as opium at the pharmacy.
You took out the small silver box with an L engraved upon the top of it in an ornate font. You ran your finger across the rough etching before sliding the spoon out, loading it with powder, and raising it to your nose. Anxiety faded and euphoria replaced it. As you were leaving the bathroom you brushed past another lady, as she flashed you a smile, her teeth appeared sharp, her eyes yellow with red irises. You blink a few times and her face appears normal once more. You'd heard that the use of cocaine could lead to hallucinations which should have been a comfort to you had you not seen such things long before discovering your love of the substance then you might have chalked it up to only that.
When you returned to the table, food had been ordered. A couple of slices of toast, no butter, and with a side of laxatives. Washed down with a black coffee. "Did you hear about that new act they're wanting to place?" Alice said. "Well I think we need to make the most of the remaining nights we have," Maria added. So the group of you made plans to go to the Maple Leaf Bar on Oak Street. Apparently, James Brooker would be playing there tonight.
As night rolled around you had maybe a couple of hours since lunch with the ladies and your sobriety was creeping up on you, something you were eager to remedy. As you slipped into a new dress for the night and headed towards the door, George had offered to call you another carriage but you had refused it. You quite enjoyed the walk, you were able to mentally prepare yourself for the night ahead. Once you were into the swing of things, a cocktail of drinks and substances inside you. You were the life of the party. However, when sober, thoughts would creep into your head and you needed to get your head in the right place. A smile plastered on your face, a facade that no one would see the cracks in.
On your walk, you see a familiar shillioette, tall and wiry. His movements almost danced with each step. You pick up your pace and approach him. "Not sulking around dark alleyways tonight I see ?" You jibe, seemingly taking out of whatever thought he had lost himself in. " The city is alive tonight, how could one resist the call of live bands playing in every pub and club." He said with his usual exalted elation. "So do you have anywhere in mind? Maybe meeting a hot date?" You put a subtle emphasis on 'hot date'. "I am just going wherever the music takes me. However, is that your not-so-subtle way of asking me to accompany you for the night?" He was certainly perceptive. You had mastered the art of subtleties in conversation, often being able to lead most conversations with men, letting them think that they were in fact the ones leading it so you could feign shock and surprise at inevitable their suggestions.
"Well I still have some distance to go and I suppose I could use protecting. People will be drinking more than usual tonight and who knows what unsavory types might be lurking." You jest. "So you only require my protection to your venue and then I shall leave you ?" You could feel he was baiting you with his statement. "I suppose should I arrive safely I should at least thank you with a dance and a drink. There will also be live music there." You said taking the bait but sweetening the deal. "Well consider me sold. It would be my honor mademoiselle. Lead the way."