The Franklin Hotel Bar--1950 (PG-13)

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librarian_7
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The Franklin Hotel Bar--1950 (PG-13)

Post by librarian_7 »

Just a little treat from the motel...hope you enjoy!

All the usual disclaimers apply.


The Franklin Hotel Bar….1950

Molly shifted uneasily on the barstool, and consulted her watch. The dark red taffeta of her full skirt crinkled and rustled over the stiff tulle of her petticoat. She still wasn’t used to these “New Look” fashions. If she took a deep breath, she thought she might well snap in half at the waist, she was cinched so tight. Or maybe just pop right out of the strapless velvet bodice, and wouldn’t that turn a few heads?

If this friend of Fancy’s didn’t turn up in the next five minutes, then the hell with him, she was going home. Getting out of this damn dress and getting comfortable. Put some soft music on the radio, and find a nice book to read.

“You’ll like this guy, he’s different,” Fancy had said. “He knows how to treat a lady.”

Well, she didn’t consider being stood up proper treatment. Just because he was some big shot in from New York City, it didn’t mean she’d wait forever. She wasn’t some floozy, after all, even if she did agree to meet him at a bar. The Franklin was one of the nicest hotels in town, and who cared if it was a little old fashioned. She ordered another champagne cocktail, ignoring the fisheye she was getting from the dark-haired bartender. Good-looking, but probably thought she was peddling it. It wasn’t like the old days, during the war, when a girl could sit in a bar for a quiet drink, and no one thought anything of it.

Still, this was a nice place. Maybe not as big or chic as some of the newer places, but it had that opulent charm of the twenties, and looking around, she wondered if anyone remembered those days. The small orchestra, tucked away in the corner, was playing a rather tired rendition of “Harbor Lights,” while three couples swayed to the music on the small dance floor.

She pulled at the tight bolero jacket that covered her shoulders, and fiddled a bit with the spotless white gloves lying across her tiny clutch purse. She probably needed to refresh her lipstick, but she hated to leave her seat. Even if the bar wasn’t very crowded.

The bartender drifted back her direction, offered her a light for the cigarette she’d just extracted from her gold case.

“Thanks,” she said, cupping her hand around his to guide the flame from his Zippo to her waiting cigarette.

He gave her a crooked smile. “No problem.” He paused. “You, uh, looking for someone?”

Molly took a long drag, blowing the smoke out to one side. “Meeting someone, if he ever turns up. He’s late.”

“Well, if he doesn’t show…I get off work in another two hours. And I know a place with a better band than this one, if you like jazz.”

She regarded him steadily. “Thanks, and no offense, but you don’t really seem like my type.”

He smiled back, with such melting sweetness she almost changed her mind. “Hey, can’t blame a guy for asking.”

Molly laughed and sipped at her drink, savoring the flavor, and the curling smoke of her cigarette. She’d had time to finish it, and was considering standing and leaving, when her blind date finally arrived.

The hand on the bar was the first thing she saw. Slender, pale fingers, on a large, capable-looking hand. An edge of white linen showing out of his suit jacket. She hadn’t heard anyone approach, or noticed it in the mirror behind the bar. Startled, she looked up to see brown eyes the color of fine whiskey smiling down at her. “Pardon me, Miss, but…is your name Molly Long?”

It only took an instant for her to register his broad shoulders, his impeccably tailored dark suit. Fancy had told her he was handsome, but she hadn’t expected him to be so devastating. There were plenty of stunningly beautiful men in Los Angeles, after all, and she was used to that. Just look at the bartender, for example, with his olive skin and smoldering hazel eyes…probably an actor himself, or a musician. But this man had an air of confidence about him she’d rarely encountered.

He appeared to be only a few years older than Molly, but she could see that weight of age and distance in his eyes she saw in so many men. A girl learned not to ask about that. Whether it had been gained in the blue waters and green jungles of the Pacific, or the broken fields and ruined cities of Europe, it wasn’t a topic open for casual conversation. A man would tell you about it, if he wanted to, or else it would come out in his nightmares.

“Mr. Fitzgerald? I’d about given up on you.” She’d meant to be disapproving, what with him keeping her waiting, but her mouth curved involuntarily into a smile in response to his.

He tilted his head to one side, a boyish, attractive gesture, taking in the dark red of her dress, and the matching hue painted on her mouth and fingernails. He rather liked what he saw. “That would have been my loss, indeed. I’m glad you waited.” He tapped on the polished surface of the bar, to summon the bartender. “I’ll have a Macallen, neat. And another…” glancing at her glass, “…champagne cocktail for the lady.”

“You a guest?” the bartender asked, frowning. So, he thought, she was another one out for the rich guys. He should have known.

“2418. I believe you’d know it as the Owner’s Suite. And we’ll be over at a booth.” A twenty appeared on the bar, and promptly disappeared. “Keep them coming.”

The bartender nodded curtly. He shot a look at Molly, oddly guarded. “I’ll keep an eye out.”

Mr. Fitzgerald smiled broadly at him. “Do that.”

The bar was dimly lit in general, and the booths were so dark as to be semi-private. As he guided her to a seat, Molly thought it was a shame the lights were so low. Her escort offered to help her remove her jacket, commenting on how beautiful her skin was, how it gleamed in the low light. Hard to argue with that, although she wasn’t quite sure how to take it. She hoped he wasn’t expecting more from her than she was prepared to give.

Still, after another drink, or two, he’d not made any suspect moves, not said anything beyond polite conversation. They were on first name basis, though, almost at once. He asked her if she cared to dance, and they moved together on the floor, as the orchestra played “Mona Lisa.” He danced well, Molly thought as she floated in his arms. Not all men were so graceful, so controlled in their power.

So when he suggested that they adjourn upstairs to his suite, to take in the night air from the balcony, she smiled and agreed, provided she had a chance to slip away to the ladies room first.

On her way back, the bartender stopped her with a gesture from his head. “You seem like a nice girl,” he said to her in a low voice. “And that guy looks like trouble.”

“Charles has been a perfect gentleman.”

The bartender frowned, his hazel eyes serious. “They always are, in public.”

“You do value your job, friend?” Fitzgerald said, from beside them. His eyes had lost a good bit of their warmth, Molly noted. She’d never seen brown eyes go so cold before, almost as if they had a faint silver shine to them, and a chill ran down her spine.

“Not as much as all that.” The two men stared at each other for a long moment, but the bartender broke his gaze away first. He shrugged. “Her funeral,” he said.

“Not anytime soon,” Fitzgerald responded.

The bartender slapped a damp rag on the bar, and began polishing sullenly. He could hardly wait to ditch this chicken job. As soon as the band took off…he was kissing this place goodbye.

As they walked away, Fitzgerald looked down at Molly, relishing the soft feel of her velvet bodice where his hand rested at the small of her back. “He hasn’t scared you off, has he?”

Molly shook her head. “Oh, no…but you should know that I—I’m not—“

He laughed. “Did your friend Fancy tell you anything much about me?”

Molly looked down at her hands. If she clutched at her gloves any harder, they’d be crumpled past any further use. “She told me that you were…different. But nice. I’m not even sure what she meant by that. She said she thought we’d be well suited, somehow.”

He snorted softly. “I suppose there is something I need to tell you. That your friend may have failed to mention.”

“Oh?”

He looked around carefully. The elevator lobby where they stood was deserted, and he supposed this was as good a place as any to broach the delicate subject. No amount of time, no amount of practice ever made it an easy thing. “It’s like this,” he said, “and I’ll understand, believe me, if it makes you change your mind about coming up. But, well,” he looked her in the eyes, decided to go for the direct approach, “I’m a vampire. I won’t hurt you, but I would like some of your blood.”

To his everlasting surprise, the girl in the dark red dress laughed up in his face, and reached up to lay a soft hand against his cheek, just as the elevator bell dinged. “Oh, Charles,” Molly said, “you are funny. I already knew that.”

And taking his hand, she led him into the elevator.
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Re: The Franklin Hotel Bar--1950 (PG-13)

Post by MickLifeCrisis »

I wasn't exactly sure where this was headed, but the ending really made me smile! :yes:
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Re: The Franklin Hotel Bar--1950 (PG-13)

Post by francis »

Thank you for posting this again here. I am a sucker for Josef backstory, especially your kind of stories. He is so cheeky with Molly, but he found his match. And the bartender... :heart:
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Re: The Franklin Hotel Bar--1950 (PG-13)

Post by librarian_7 »

Thanks, MLC...and francis.

Yeah, a struggling musician has to take all kind of jobs to make ends meet. Just sayin'...

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Re: The Franklin Hotel Bar--1950 (PG-13)

Post by moonlight_vixen »

I'm glad to see this one reposted over here! I absolutely loved the interaction between Molly and Josef, and I love getting the backstories :thumbs:
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Re: The Franklin Hotel Bar--1950 (PG-13)

Post by allegrita »

As you know, I loved this story when you posted it at the Motel. Molly is surprisingly unshakable; Josef is suave, powerful, and not to be trifled with...and surprisingly honest! And that bartender... :happysigh: :melts: I can't help it... I always did have a thing for struggling musicians. Just ask hubby. :heart:

Love the Zippo, too... I do love that lighter... mmm.
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Re: The Franklin Hotel Bar--1950 (PG-13)

Post by coco »

Oh I remember reading this one Lucky. :biggrin:

It's still fabulous. :thumbs:
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Re: The Franklin Hotel Bar--1950 (PG-13)

Post by tucutecats »

i just love Joseph ,in my opinion there are not enough stories about him.A continuation of this one would be great. Loved your story. you are a fabulous writer.Liz
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Re: The Franklin Hotel Bar--1950 (PG-13)

Post by librarian_7 »

Thanks, coco!

And Liz, I promise, I'm writing them as fast as I can! Hugs, sweetie!

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