(no subject)
For Clara
Four tales of love in various settings all of them shippy if you know how to look, all PG because AR is a gentleman.
AR/his girls
If he is honest, and he is so very rarely honest- he would admit it isn’t for the sex he keeps them.
It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy them; either of them. Bobbie is as wild behind closed doors as she is after a few drinks at any club and while on any other woman, AR would already tire of her antics he finds Bobbie has a way of igniting his blood and pulling from his carefully manicured persona with carefully manicured reserves a true and honest laugh or smile that those like Lucky would never believe came from him. As for Rita; she has a way of pushing the numbers and percentages from his mind until finally all he can focus on is the smell of lavender on her skin, or her soft giggled words in his ear. It’s no small feat either; this thing she’s capable of and anyone who knows the Big Bankroll would testify the truth of it. His mind never rests; even when the man wants to- and it seems at time only Rita’s soft slender fingers can conjure the illusion of contentment if not the actuality.
A part of him knows they know the man who visits in stolen hours during the weekdays isn’t the same who resides over all New York. It can’t be. The man who belongs to the City is heartless, as icy as the Hudson and the man who finds them- who has flowers delivered to their dressing rooms and apartments (Daffodils, always daffodils- like rays of sunshine) is someone else. Not quite a lover, but certainly not the gangster.
More like it’s a bit of a man who might be; the vaguest of reflections from mirrors. He wonders if that matters and fears the day they decide it will.
AR/Bobbie Winthrop
When he finds her; Bobbie is asleep on the couch of her tidy apartment still wearing the dress he saw her in two nights ago when she danced with Lucky to make him jealous before finally disappearing with the younger man into a backroom or back alley. Or wherever they found. There’s a thin coat of sweat across her ivory skin, her makeup is gone and the stockings she wore are torn.
There are marks on her arms too that he knows are too large to belong to Luciano. Lucky too, for someone. AR stifles the sigh he has on his lips as he shrugs out of the coat he’s wearing and takes a seat at the edge of the couch. He has her shoes and stockings off, along with the jewelry from her arms before she finally stirs from her sleep. Then, she fixes him in a long, questioning one eyed stare that looks past him and at him all at once. “Have you come to ravish me?” She asks and he can’t help but notice the note of hope in her tone.
“No.” He replies as he rises and walks the small distance from the couch to wardrobe to pull out a nightshift.
She sits up too quickly, he can tell from the pitiful groan she gives upon his return but by now- against all odds, she has already shrugged out of her dress and her smile is slowly coloring her cheeks. She really does have a pretty smile, and perfect freckled breasts. “Why not?”
AR pushed his hands into her hair, and smiled a little as she arched her back like a cat and purred. It took no time at all for her to shed the dress to nightgown and even less to crawl into his arms as he carried her to the bed. She was already drifting back into sleep when she mewed, “You won’t leave me, baby, will you?”
“Of course not,” He cooed, and it was then he pushed a kiss into her hair. “Now go to sleep and I’ll be right next to you when you wake.”
When she does, hours later the evening is already turning dark blue with the upcoming night and he’s left a new bottle of Canadian Club- the real stuff- on her dresser.
AR/Carolyn
Just when she makes up her mind to leave him; there’s a glimmer of the man she knew that catches her eye. It could be a trick of the nights she thinks because she knows she lost him somewhere. Or will. One day, he’ll realize he no longer loves her and maybe he never did. When that happens, he’ll abandon her and then maybe he’ll find someone else- like Bobbie or Rita or some other showgirl who he wouldn’t be ashamed to show off. She hears rumors from third and fourth hand sources, she knows but she can’t help but believe them of how he is in the clubs when the girls come out. How he is polite but never too lavish, demur but never too devoted and she thinks to herself it will be any moment before he finds one of them- those strong armed women who aren’t afraid to love monsters that will take him- and whatever is left of her husband away.
And just when she thinks that he’s gone because she has caught bits of a telephone conversation or seen him with “Legs” Diamond, “Lucky” Luciano or some other man that frightens her down to the marrow (even more so when she sees her husband command them, and they defer) and she knows it’s over…
She’ll come home to the apartment a little too late at night with every light on and the sound of his voice calling her name like a child lost in the streets until she puts his head on her lap and sits with him there until the fear has subsided or he sleeps. Or she’ll awake to the sound of her bedroom door opening and although he never enters; she can feel him standing there watching her.
And there are times, much rarer now then the nights she doesn’t when she wakes up to find him- fully dressed- asleep beside her and right before she rolls over to hold him, he’ll ask. “You won’t leave me, will you Sweet?”
“Of course not,” She’ll promise and not really mean it. “Go to sleep.”
And she’ll be there when he wakes.
AR/Lucky
The realization hits him one afternoon when AR isn’t thinking and he calls to Luciano to follow him into the backroom of the tailor’s once he heard his voice. AR was across the room, nearest to the mirrors when the younger man appeared- head ducked before he was assured of Rothstein’s decency then stepped in, scanned the room and then took a position near the valet stand where he had discarded his gun, billfold, overcoat, vest and coat.
It wasn’t until Lucky had folded his hands in front of him, and shot his usual curt voice. “You wanted to see me.”
On the table in the billfold was over one hundred and thirty thousand dollars in neatly folded bills, not to mention AR had, in atypical moment of trust had just allowed someone a clean shot with a clean exit. It’s not that the boy hadn’t given him any reason to distrust him as of yet but the boy was like Jack, and Eastman. They had the sense of ruthlessness and singularity of purpose that AR knew he lacked. It’s what had drawn him to ‘Lucky’ in the first place and it’s what until this moment, had demanded AR keep them all at arm’s length.
Trust was luxury he never had much use for.
“Mr. Rothstein?” They were still on surnames at this point, although he still bristled every time AR addressed him as Mr. Luciano and repeated in that angry voice that his name was ‘Lucky.’
The second realization hit him in that moment. While AR had seen an opportunity to remove a middle man and potential obstacle in his plans; betrayal had never even occurred to Luciano. Or if it did, Lucky had no sign of it, not even the slightest tell which in ways was even more impressive.
He took another look at Luciano then; from the dark face, closed body to the garnish suit he always wore like all of the other Italians from the East Side. When his eyes finally found Lucky’s he was greeted an unreadable expression most men tried to distract him with at the tables. As quickly as the sign of true loyalty had appeared it had vanished; leaving Rothstein a little disappointed.
Which- he thought idly, as his mind ran over all the angles- continued to impress.
“I wanted to let you know, I’d made a decision.” He responded although he had changed it in that second, playing off the moment as well as he could. Something caught his eye from the side of the room and he smiled. “You’ll be accompanying me to Atlantic City next month instead of Jack Diamond.”
There was a real smile that either Lucky didn’t hide in time, or didn’t care if Rothstein saw. It was pleasant too, and disarming. Dangerous too.
AR plucked the tie that had caught his attention from the neat rows of silk, and caught his eyes again. “Take off your tie.”
Now it was Luciano’s turn to seem surprised and it was several seconds before his hands slowly reached to his collar, pulling off the wide tie he’d been sporting without a vest or benefit of tie clip. Even his collar bar looked old.
He picked up a shirt from the other table, sizing it like he would have a portrait before laying the tie over it, followed by a solid gold collar bar. “But first we have work to do, Charlie. Go get changed.” He asked, as he exchanged the clothes for his own belongings. “Consider this my treat…I won’t have you looking cheap if we’re going to be partners.”
Again, Luciano studied him before moving past him to the dressing rooms.
Four tales of love in various settings all of them shippy if you know how to look, all PG because AR is a gentleman.
AR/his girls
If he is honest, and he is so very rarely honest- he would admit it isn’t for the sex he keeps them.
It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy them; either of them. Bobbie is as wild behind closed doors as she is after a few drinks at any club and while on any other woman, AR would already tire of her antics he finds Bobbie has a way of igniting his blood and pulling from his carefully manicured persona with carefully manicured reserves a true and honest laugh or smile that those like Lucky would never believe came from him. As for Rita; she has a way of pushing the numbers and percentages from his mind until finally all he can focus on is the smell of lavender on her skin, or her soft giggled words in his ear. It’s no small feat either; this thing she’s capable of and anyone who knows the Big Bankroll would testify the truth of it. His mind never rests; even when the man wants to- and it seems at time only Rita’s soft slender fingers can conjure the illusion of contentment if not the actuality.
A part of him knows they know the man who visits in stolen hours during the weekdays isn’t the same who resides over all New York. It can’t be. The man who belongs to the City is heartless, as icy as the Hudson and the man who finds them- who has flowers delivered to their dressing rooms and apartments (Daffodils, always daffodils- like rays of sunshine) is someone else. Not quite a lover, but certainly not the gangster.
More like it’s a bit of a man who might be; the vaguest of reflections from mirrors. He wonders if that matters and fears the day they decide it will.
AR/Bobbie Winthrop
When he finds her; Bobbie is asleep on the couch of her tidy apartment still wearing the dress he saw her in two nights ago when she danced with Lucky to make him jealous before finally disappearing with the younger man into a backroom or back alley. Or wherever they found. There’s a thin coat of sweat across her ivory skin, her makeup is gone and the stockings she wore are torn.
There are marks on her arms too that he knows are too large to belong to Luciano. Lucky too, for someone. AR stifles the sigh he has on his lips as he shrugs out of the coat he’s wearing and takes a seat at the edge of the couch. He has her shoes and stockings off, along with the jewelry from her arms before she finally stirs from her sleep. Then, she fixes him in a long, questioning one eyed stare that looks past him and at him all at once. “Have you come to ravish me?” She asks and he can’t help but notice the note of hope in her tone.
“No.” He replies as he rises and walks the small distance from the couch to wardrobe to pull out a nightshift.
She sits up too quickly, he can tell from the pitiful groan she gives upon his return but by now- against all odds, she has already shrugged out of her dress and her smile is slowly coloring her cheeks. She really does have a pretty smile, and perfect freckled breasts. “Why not?”
AR pushed his hands into her hair, and smiled a little as she arched her back like a cat and purred. It took no time at all for her to shed the dress to nightgown and even less to crawl into his arms as he carried her to the bed. She was already drifting back into sleep when she mewed, “You won’t leave me, baby, will you?”
“Of course not,” He cooed, and it was then he pushed a kiss into her hair. “Now go to sleep and I’ll be right next to you when you wake.”
When she does, hours later the evening is already turning dark blue with the upcoming night and he’s left a new bottle of Canadian Club- the real stuff- on her dresser.
AR/Carolyn
Just when she makes up her mind to leave him; there’s a glimmer of the man she knew that catches her eye. It could be a trick of the nights she thinks because she knows she lost him somewhere. Or will. One day, he’ll realize he no longer loves her and maybe he never did. When that happens, he’ll abandon her and then maybe he’ll find someone else- like Bobbie or Rita or some other showgirl who he wouldn’t be ashamed to show off. She hears rumors from third and fourth hand sources, she knows but she can’t help but believe them of how he is in the clubs when the girls come out. How he is polite but never too lavish, demur but never too devoted and she thinks to herself it will be any moment before he finds one of them- those strong armed women who aren’t afraid to love monsters that will take him- and whatever is left of her husband away.
And just when she thinks that he’s gone because she has caught bits of a telephone conversation or seen him with “Legs” Diamond, “Lucky” Luciano or some other man that frightens her down to the marrow (even more so when she sees her husband command them, and they defer) and she knows it’s over…
She’ll come home to the apartment a little too late at night with every light on and the sound of his voice calling her name like a child lost in the streets until she puts his head on her lap and sits with him there until the fear has subsided or he sleeps. Or she’ll awake to the sound of her bedroom door opening and although he never enters; she can feel him standing there watching her.
And there are times, much rarer now then the nights she doesn’t when she wakes up to find him- fully dressed- asleep beside her and right before she rolls over to hold him, he’ll ask. “You won’t leave me, will you Sweet?”
“Of course not,” She’ll promise and not really mean it. “Go to sleep.”
And she’ll be there when he wakes.
AR/Lucky
The realization hits him one afternoon when AR isn’t thinking and he calls to Luciano to follow him into the backroom of the tailor’s once he heard his voice. AR was across the room, nearest to the mirrors when the younger man appeared- head ducked before he was assured of Rothstein’s decency then stepped in, scanned the room and then took a position near the valet stand where he had discarded his gun, billfold, overcoat, vest and coat.
It wasn’t until Lucky had folded his hands in front of him, and shot his usual curt voice. “You wanted to see me.”
On the table in the billfold was over one hundred and thirty thousand dollars in neatly folded bills, not to mention AR had, in atypical moment of trust had just allowed someone a clean shot with a clean exit. It’s not that the boy hadn’t given him any reason to distrust him as of yet but the boy was like Jack, and Eastman. They had the sense of ruthlessness and singularity of purpose that AR knew he lacked. It’s what had drawn him to ‘Lucky’ in the first place and it’s what until this moment, had demanded AR keep them all at arm’s length.
Trust was luxury he never had much use for.
“Mr. Rothstein?” They were still on surnames at this point, although he still bristled every time AR addressed him as Mr. Luciano and repeated in that angry voice that his name was ‘Lucky.’
The second realization hit him in that moment. While AR had seen an opportunity to remove a middle man and potential obstacle in his plans; betrayal had never even occurred to Luciano. Or if it did, Lucky had no sign of it, not even the slightest tell which in ways was even more impressive.
He took another look at Luciano then; from the dark face, closed body to the garnish suit he always wore like all of the other Italians from the East Side. When his eyes finally found Lucky’s he was greeted an unreadable expression most men tried to distract him with at the tables. As quickly as the sign of true loyalty had appeared it had vanished; leaving Rothstein a little disappointed.
Which- he thought idly, as his mind ran over all the angles- continued to impress.
“I wanted to let you know, I’d made a decision.” He responded although he had changed it in that second, playing off the moment as well as he could. Something caught his eye from the side of the room and he smiled. “You’ll be accompanying me to Atlantic City next month instead of Jack Diamond.”
There was a real smile that either Lucky didn’t hide in time, or didn’t care if Rothstein saw. It was pleasant too, and disarming. Dangerous too.
AR plucked the tie that had caught his attention from the neat rows of silk, and caught his eyes again. “Take off your tie.”
Now it was Luciano’s turn to seem surprised and it was several seconds before his hands slowly reached to his collar, pulling off the wide tie he’d been sporting without a vest or benefit of tie clip. Even his collar bar looked old.
He picked up a shirt from the other table, sizing it like he would have a portrait before laying the tie over it, followed by a solid gold collar bar. “But first we have work to do, Charlie. Go get changed.” He asked, as he exchanged the clothes for his own belongings. “Consider this my treat…I won’t have you looking cheap if we’re going to be partners.”
Again, Luciano studied him before moving past him to the dressing rooms.