Chapter Text
It was one of those evenings where the heat of the summer was so relentless that even when, later than usual, the dark of the night drew in, there was no relief to be found. Ada had never enjoyed the heat, Illinois would certainly get hot in the summer, but nothing like the stifling humidity of the East Coast.
Getting ready for yet another increasingly tiresome outing with Mary’s newest group of friends and admirers, Ada had to keep pausing to fan herself, stand by the thrown open window a moment and take in some kind of air, to avoid sweating off her makeup. Her bedroom was scented with assorted bowls of potpourri, one on each of the nightstands that flanked the bed, one on her vanity, another on the sill of the window. The little copper receptacles were lost though, in the midst of all the other assorted knickknacks and trinkets the woman could not bear to part with, often placed atop the cloth and leather-bound books stacked wherever there was free space. It was tidy though, well-kept, if certainly more cluttered then most would prefer.
Touching the curls piled atop her head, she examined her reflection with a breath. She always needed a moment, a long breath, to reassure herself that she could go out and be the person everyone expected her to be. As her mother had liked to remind her before her death, the Paris contingent, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, sold their books on their personal exploits more than the quality of their writing.
“Why don’t you just write under a man’s name again? That sold well.” She mocked her mother aloud as she smudged the grey eyeshadow on her eyelid. Ada could practically see the woman now, standing in front of the stove, sloshing red wine on the floor. She missed her.
As she was pulling on her shoes, she heard the tring-tring of the telephone across the hall and rushed out of the bedroom and into her office across the hall, swearing under her breath.
“Yes?” She answered, and was met with the telltale background ruckus of Saturday night on the boardwalk.
“Ada sweetheart your phone manners are still terrible!” Mary said on the other end of the line, too loud, already drunk. “We’re going to have to make a lady out of you some day!”
“Did you call me for a reason? I’m on my way to you this moment.” Ada replied with a sigh.
“Change of plans, we’re going to Franklin’s latest party, you know Franklin-” Ada didn’t. “He’s renting out a whole cathouse, should be delightfully filthy affair you must come!”
“That’s risqué even for you heathens.”
Mary’s laugh stung her ear somewhat.
“I can’t pay for this call much longer, but you’re coming. It’s a classy place, like the ones in France, or so Franklin is trying to convince us. It’s called the Artemis Club, get a cab.”
Her friend hung up before she had chance to tell her she would walk; Ada had a good idea of where the place was, and it was not to far from her house. Walking quietly to these gatherings, taking in the sea air and the more distant sounds of laughter, and watching the drunk groups cling to each other and stagger by. It inspired her, she would think of some of the loveliest prose that had ever occurred to her, and then she would meet Mary, and drink all night and forget it all.
It was still hot, but she took the route along the boardwalk to take in the lights and merriment and so the sea air provided some semblance of breeze over the bare skin of her thighs and legs. Lucky it was night, because the length of this particular black beaded number would definitely get her into trouble in the daylight. The thin satin shawl draped over her forearms blew in a rare and welcome breeze, and as she got closer to the Artemis Club, the sense of thinly veiled seediness drew in. The streets were a little quieter, and she could almost smell the illegal liquor on the air - maybe opium too. It wasn’t even like the place was in a bad part of town, it was in fact shockingly upscale, but Ada had found that brothels found it hard to contain the heady air of sex inside the walls.
Entering the dimly lit doorway, she nodded and smiled as the pretty girl who sat on the chair by the door and the slightly older woman that drifted over, beaming.
“Are you here for Franklin Reese’s party dear?” She asked, tucking her ginger hair behind her ear, and clearly trying her utmost to sound professional.
“Yes, I can tell by the ruckus upstairs that my noisy friends have already arrived.”
Indeed, the band was clearly in full swing above her, and she could hear the rabble of many talking and laughing voices.
“Indeed, your friend Franklin really went all out.” The woman began to lead her upstairs. “But I hope the Artemis Club can attend to all your needs, we’re an up and coming establishment. I’m Gillian by the way, please see me for anything you need.”
Ada looked around at the ornate decoration as they neared the main floor, a man and woman running past in front of them hand in hand, giggling like school children as they obviously headed to a more private area. In her honest opinion, the pillars against the wood panelling may have been a little much, but the packed room buzzed with enjoyment and made it all fit.
“It’s a lovely place you have here, and thank you, I hope you’ll join us for a dance later on.” Ada said politely. “And a drink, once Franklin puts a tab down he tends to forget to close it.”
Gillian chuckled, again with the politeness of a proprietor wanting desperately to keep the guests entertained and spending money.
“I may take you up on that. Have a nice evening.” Gillian gently touched Ada’s elbow in that practiced way that just slightly suggested they could have more contact if she wanted it.
Swinging her little beaded purse more securely onto her shoulder, she pushed her way through the tight crowd, looking for a white blonde head.
“Ada! Finally!” The blonde found her first: she felt a pull on her elbow and she was dragged into a group of recognisable faces, the most well known being Mary. “Drink, you’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” Her friend pushed a bourbon into her hand, shuffling her shoulders to the up tempo music.
“I can see that, you old drunkard.” She said, tossing a fair amount of her drink back, more than used to the burn. “Now, where is Franklin?”
“Oh probably off with a little brunette number on a chaise somewhere.” Mary waved her hand dismissively.
“George?” Ada asked, the group laughed raucously, George, a tall and pretty-faced man, included.
“You ought not to mock, little Miss Chicago.” He said, throwing an arm round her shoulder. “Every drop of liquor in this place only came in thanks to him.”
Mary gasped, scandalised, and the men of the group seemed interested too.
“No.” Said Mary, a smirk quirking on her lips that Ada knew meant she was desperate for every ounce of gossip. “Franklin? A bootlegger?”
“You didn’t hear it from me.” George tapped is nose, smiling knowingly.
“Oh you really can’t be shocked Mary.” Danny scoffed with an eye roll. “Have you met a single person in this town that makes an honest living?”
“Well, she met you, and you’re a lawyer, so I guess you’re right.” Ada said into her drink, anticipation the crack of chortles that followed. It relaxed her to make them laugh, but they did enjoy a cheap shot.
Everything mattered less the more drinks everyone downed, and suddenly to Ada, the company of every person in the room was the most enjoyable she’d ever had. Mary brought her into the crowd and they danced together, and with some of the men, hopping and quick footed dances that left them all red in the face and surely foolish looking. Some of the working girls took to teaching the women how to dance like flappers, and Ada enjoyed watching Mary giggle, bright blue eyes lighting up as she learned the moves.
Mary was a true friend, though they had only met after Ada’s first successes, she had always been taken with her personality, and her lack of pretension for someone from such high society when they spoke alone.
Leaning on the bar after a few more dances Ada found herself at the centre of a few people, asking her for stories and jokes. It made her slightly uncomfortable normally to find people hanging off her words, but the liquor soothed this and made her eager to please.
If she had looked behind the bar to the man busying himself restocking the rum she would have noticed another person listening.
Richard had seen her come in, which was not odd, part of his job was to keep an eye on the patrons, though this task was certainly more difficult tonight with the place fuller than it had ever been. Gillian had jumped at the chance to have a normal, metropolitan party hosted at the place, and the rich sort that had booked it seemed to have cash to throw around. To him, it looked to be a nice relief for the girls to entertain in ways the men that frequented the establishment were not normally interested in.
It was a little strange that he had found himself looking for her in the crowd frequently throughout the night. Women did not usually take his interest that strongly anymore, and even if they did, he tried his best not to stare when he thought a girl was pretty, as not to put them out. This girl was not just pretty though. Every time he noticed her she seemed to have her head thrown back in a laugh, and he would see her quirk her eyebrows and playfully pout at the people she danced with.
Animated, that’s what she was. Maybe that was why he kept looking at her.
It was all the more difficult not to when she ended up feet away from him at the bar as he unloaded a case of rum, and he heard the sound of her voice. She didn’t have a New York accent, or a particularly strong accent of anywhere, but his ear told him Chicago maybe.
From where she stood in profile to him, he could see that her skin was just as fair and seemingly glowing as it looked from afar, and that her nose was more upturned than he had noticed. She had a little blush across her décolletage and cheeks too from the alcohol and the activity. There was no wonder people were swarming round her: she shone.
He tried to busy himself with a little bar work as the volume of customers to the bar wasn’t letting up. As usual, he noted and dismissed those who looked too long at his face, and poured out the drinks. Soon, he’d retire to his room, but he didn’t want Gillian to think he was work-shy.
Richard also did not want to miss a word this girl said.
“So, what was the pseudonym you wrote under? Something dreadfully pedestrian I thought.” A gentleman with one of the working girls hanging off his arm asked her.
“Johnathan Wainwright. And that dreadfully pedestrian name along with the dreadfully pedestrian poetry bought me my house.” She chided and sipped her sherry.
“You’ve got to give us a sample.” One of the girls said.
“Oh, here we go.” Mary rolled her eyes, wondering what would come out of her friend’s mouth now.
Ada’s eyes sparkled as she finished her drink and cleared her throat, the gaggle quieting.
“‘I walked a lonely path through mottled hills and sloping banks. Oh, the valley was beautiful, but not as beautiful as her!” She began with mock poeticism, exaggerated arm movements. “‘Her eyes more blue than the iridescent lake, and her pussy sweeter than the berries on the tree!”
The punchline caused the most raucous laughter, and she chuckled too, shaking her head.
In honesty, Richard almost blushed. It was not like he hadn’t heard plenty of this language before, but it shocked him to have snuffed out the naive picture he’d drawn in his mind of this angelic little thing that floated and danced through this party.
The band started up a number everyone knew, everyone but Richard, apparently, and Ada’s group dispersed, trying to drag her along to dance.
“No I need a rest, you go.” He vaguely heard her say, before she was turning to back to the now quieter bar, facing him. She was no less pretty from head on.
For just a second, he saw her take in the mask, her eyes flitted over it, but she did not let on that it had shocked her at all. Seeing people jump, especially women and kids, always made him feel rotten inside.
“Would you mind getting me a tap water? I think the heat is getting to me.” She said, fanning herself with her hand.
Richard nodded and shuffled into the door behind the bar, taking the moment as he filled the glass with cold water to try to relax and compose himself. She was no less engaging up close, not a bit. Now he had seen her face to face, he had noticed the shape of her lips, full, and pink. He noticed his cheeks were hot, his palms may even have been a little clammy, but he wouldn’t let himself dwell on it.
She smiled brightly at him when he returned to her, setting the glass down, which she took appreciatively, and thanked him for.
“You’re welcome.” He said, and the gruffness of his voice took her aback as she had a long gulp of her water, even the feel of the cold condensation on the glass welcome. It was not a voice that came from just a natural gravelly-ness, she could tell, it was damage.
It mad him feel a tad lecherous to watch her neck move when she took a deep drink, but it was too fair and delicate looking for him not to.
“Have you been partaking in the festivities?” She asked, glancing round. He had not expected her to kick up conversation and had been prepared to head in the back again.
He shook his head. “No. I work as a caretaker here. Help out where I can. Keep an eye out for - rowdy patrons.” His throat clicked, and he swallowed.
“I can’t imagine keeping handsy men from getting too boisterous can be all that fun.” Tucking a bit of hair behind her ear, she took another sip of her water.
“It’s not so bad.” He shook his head, and she noticed how he held his hands quite stiffly at his sides and rubbed his fingertips together. A nervous tick. “These types of things are a little harder to, hm, manage.”
“Rich types wanting a taste of naughtiness and spilling their drinks on you? I can imagine.”
“You seemed to be entertaining them before.” He pointed out. Why did he seem to find it hard to meet her eye? She wondered.
“Oh you heard me?” She asked, looking down with a little laugh, he hoped that didn’t imply he had been eavesdropping. “I’m not really so arrogant as I act, I promise.”
Fearing for a moment he had insulted her, he swallowed. “I wasn’t. Implying that.”
“I know. I just wanted at least someone in the room to know I don’t think I’m as funny as they do.” She smiled, leaning further forward on her elbows and relaxing into the conversation. “These modernist types, they love their art mixed with a dirty mouth.”
“I noticed. Don’t think I’ve ever mm, heard a lady say that word before. In polite company.” He admitted and she swore she saw a little smile on the exposed corner of his mouth. Ada thought he had nice lips for a man, pink.
“Oh? But have you heard it from a lady in impolite company?” Her voice turned low and quiet, sultry even. Richard swallowed again, his throat seemed to be drying out quicker tonight. When she noticed he was not taking her raunchy bait, she carried on.
“Which word, anyway? I said a lot of words that pretty lips shouldn’t say.” She said conspiratorially, leaning forward on her hand.
She did have pretty lips, he noticed again when she said that, and made himself look back up at her eyes.
Richard shook his head. “I can’t - repeat it.”
She knew which one it was, she leaned forward on the bar and smirked.
“You can.” The way her eyebrow quirked coaxed a smile out of him. Like a boy saying a dirty word for the first time, he looked around to see if Gillian was around. If she thought he was doing or saying anything to spoil her upscale party, he was sure she would pull is ear.
“Pussy.” He said after after a long while.
Knitting her eyebrows together and opening her mouth, she feigned shock and horror, but could not contain her silly giggle.
“How dare you sir!” She put a hand on her chest, and he shook his head at her antics and let out a little huff of a laugh. “I should slap you on the good side.” She gestured to his face, and the realisation that of course she had noticed, and now they were both thinking about it, punched him in the gut.
Ada saw his smile fall and how he suddenly avoided her eye, lips twitching slightly as he focussed on taking away the empty glass in front of her and putting it under the bar. She was sure she had hurt his feelings. Her face burned hot with mortification.
“God, I’m sorry, that wasn’t funny… I wasn’t trying to-“
“Don’t apologise.” He shook his head. Richard did not like to be made to feel like a martyr.
“No, I have to I’ve just had too much to drink and I hope you don’t think-“
“Please.” He cut her off again. “Don’t worry.”
“Well, I-“
This time, Ada was cut off by Mary calling her name across the room. The blonde waved at her, leaning on one foot as the alcohol clearly got to her. Ada looked at her with a bit of impatience.
“Sweetie, our ride is leaving. Impatient fool won’t wait another minute!” She giggled as her hip was squeezed by said impatient fool, the group laughed raucously.
“Okay, I’m coming just a second.” Ada turned round to say goodbye, and maybe try to apologise properly to the man, who she was now realising’s name she had not got, but saw the door of the backroom swing closed where he had evidently left.
Feeling a sick buzz of guilty anxiety in her stomach, she returned to Mary, intent that this would not be a faux pas she would forget in a drunken haze.