Chapter Text
Frankie’s
March 6, 1987
Another long, bleak, day spent trudging through the gray remnants of snow and dealing with physics and cosmology professors. Al Calavicci let out a weary sigh. Sam sure had a knack for picking his timing, didn't he? He just had to arrange his honeymoon for this time of year and leave Al to pick up the pieces.
At least Frankie's was there for him. Al bellied up to the bar and before he could open his mouth, Gio said, "The usual?"
"The usual," Al confirmed.
Gio poured a double of scotch for him and left him to it.
Slowly, more people filtered into the bar as Al nursed his drink. The chair next to him was empty for a while until a young woman squeezed her way in.
"Gio!" she yelled in a very nasal voice. "Alabama slammer!"
His attention caught by her voice, Al had to take a good look. She had dark hair, dark eyes- more Jewish than Italian, he thought. Like Ruthie. She had glittery green pumps on, and her dark tights ended under a sequin-covered dark green dress that barely covered her thighs. Al felt drab next to her in his dark military suit. And that figure! Bingo bango bongo!
Gio served her a bright orange drink. She finally turned to look at him and winked. "Hello there, sailor."
Al blinked then he remembered the flight wings on his suit, the cap slung over the back of the chair. "Oh, hello." He let his eyes wander up and down her lovely curves. "My name's Albert. What's yours?"
"Fran. Fran Fine." She was appreciating her look at him, even if he was a little out of her league, this older seasoned military man.
He smirked. "Ah, so fine they had to name you that."
She let out a honking laugh at that, which briefly startled Al. "So what do you do? You're in the navy?"
"Yes. I'm a one star admiral, actually." Al was pleased to see the awe spread across Fran's face at this. "I'm in charge of this government project. My friend just went off on his honeymoon so he told me to come to New York to deal with this part for him. Let me tell you, it's extremely boring dealing with professors all day-"
"Professor of what?" Fran interrupted. "I've got a cousin who's a professor at NYU."
"Uh, physics, cosmology-"
"Cosmology? That's a thing?"
"Yes. It means-"
"Great! I can tell Val her years of reading Cosmo are paying off!"
The confusion on Al's face cleared up. "No, not that kind of cosmo. If you have a degree in it, it means you're studying the Big Bang, or how the universe started."
Fran pouted. "Well, that's not as fun."
Al looked around them at the other clientele then back at Fran. "So what's a beautiful girl like you doing in a place like this?"
“Oh, you know, Ma yelled at me about not having a husband or kids yet, and I told her I had to figure things out one at a time. ‘Can’t have me living in sin, do you?’ I told her.”
Al raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, I don’t know about that. I’m only here for a few more months. Well, unless you’re up for a move to New Mexico.”
“New Mexico? Isn’t that where the aliens landed? Val was showing some magazine about that, how they found a UFO, but then the government covered it up and said it was actually a weather balloon-”
“It was a weather balloon.” Al took a long drink of his scotch.
“Okay but how do you explain the aliens?”
“The… aliens?”
“Yes! They found alien bodies with the UFO too.”
Al sighed. “Okay, and the government wanted to cover it up because they’ve been secretly having meetings with aliens for years and didn’t need to let the secret out. Otherwise it’d devastate the whole world. You understand?”
Fran, her face lit up with a grin, nodded.
“Great. Just keep that a secret, would ya?” Al smirked. Civilians could never be trusted with military secrets. It didn’t matter if the “aliens” were actually test dummies, because civilians wanted to believe the most outrageous things.
“So do you have any plans for later?”
“Not particularly. I was thinking about exploring the city this weekend, since it’s been a long time since I visited here, even longer since I last lived here.”
“You lived here? Are you from Queens?”
“Queens!” Al scoffed. “I grew up in Brooklyn, way back when it was less overrun with gangs.”
Fran clutched his arm at this. “Okay, don’t look in Brooklyn. You’ll get shot now. Tell you what, I’ll take you to Queens, show you around, and you can see for yourself how it’s better than Brooklyn.”
Al’s face twisted into skepticism. Then he shrugged. “You do have a point. What day do you want to meet up? I’ll come out on the 7 and meet you at Shea Stadium.”