A New Alexandra Ch. 14

If this is your first time reading this series, you might want to flip back a chapter or two to get your head around a few of the characters and their dynamics. The sex mostly stands alone, but the rest of it will probably be more enjoyable with some added context. Happy reading! ~BE

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The party of eight had whittled itself to two in what seemed like the blink of an eye.

"Brutal," said the brunette sitting across from Alexandra. "I order another drink and suddenly everyone's like 'Check, please!'" She turned her head and smiled sadly. "But that's life, isn't it?"

"Not sure I follow the metaphor," said Alexandra, leaning her elbows on the long, rough-timbered table.

"Not sure there was one." Kelly sipped from her Dark and Stormy. Smoothed her ponytail. "So, did you get the impression Sam and Lucía were leaving together?" She blushed. "Like, not just at the same time?"

Alexandra nodded. "Sure looked like it. Wouldn't be the first time, I don't think." A twinge of jealousy clenched her stomach. Fuck you, Lucía. Sam was my fun little side fling, she thought.

"Oh?" Kelly's mind seemed to have moved on from the perceived abandonment by her friends.

"Oh. They definitely left the New Year's party together. I think they've seen each other at least a couple times since, too, although Sam's been weirdly evasive about it."

"And here I am, not even knowing either of them was gay," said Kelly. "Perils of being me."

"Kelly, if you don't drop the woe-is-me, I'm taking that drink away from you, giving it to the weirdest dude in here, and telling him you wanted to talk to him." I hope, hope, hope that came off as a joke, Alexandra thought.

"Over my dead body, New Girl." The smile was from ear to ear.

"Besides, I didn't know for a fact Lucía dates women. Well, until now, I guess."

Kelly sipped her drink. "Well, fine. If the super-cool lesbian's gaydar missed one, then I'll cut myself some slack. And I'm not sure I would call leaving a bar together 'dating,' but maybe that's just something you youths did to the English language."

"Kelly, I'm not 'youths.'" Ugh, I actually did the air quotes. "Just like you're not as old as you pretend to be."

"I suppose your girlfriend and I do have that in common."

"Indeed."

"And speaking of Miss Manning, to what do we owe her absence?"

"She's at her parents' place in Houston," said Alexandra. She sipped ice water from a pint glass. "Her father needed emergency heart surgery."

"Oof. I'm sorry." Kelly's face fell.

"It's fine," said Alexandra. You said sorry, and you actually meant it. "Or as fine as it could be. He had the operation this morning and is doing well, per Kira. Honestly, I think she's more there to prevent her mother going to pieces than she is worried about her dad."

"I can understand that," replied the darker-haired woman. She pulled at her ponytail again, staring at the brick walls. "You sure Kira's doing okay, or maybe just trying to hide it?"

Alexandra twirled the glass, watching the ice clink. "Not sure I'd know the difference. She's... well, Kira's very open with positive emotions and very, um, un-open with negative ones."

"That can be hard. I'm hardly one for relationship advice, am I? I spent half of today changing my bills back to my maiden name."

"Wait, really? Are you even divorced yet?"

Kelly stifled a giggle. "Nah, but so what? All he wanted was the Instagram version of a spouse, especially his last name slapped on the whole deal. I figured I'd change my name back and force him send all his divorce paperwork to Kelly Morretti."

Yikes, childish, thought Alexandra. But in the pantheon of jerkish divorce behavior, that ranks pretty low.

"Um, congratulations, I guess?"

Kelly's giggle transformed into a full laugh.

"What?" asked Alexandra.

"Just that watching a young twentysomething deal with the awkwardness of someone else's divorce is tremendously amusing. You're a good sport, Alexandra."

"I try to be."

Alexandra's eyes roamed the large bar area. Young professional types had filed in over the past hour, transforming the vibe from a quiet place where friends might have post-game drinks after a recreational soccer game (complete with actual food) to a place where dudes named Chad shouted pick-up lines at uninterested women over the blaring of Imagine Dragons.

Kelly's head swiveled, searching for the speakers.

"How did this song ever get released?" She rolled her hazel eyes. "It's like some record executive asked what sort of music could be made that would make Nickelback sound edgy and innovative." She threw back her head, pounding her drink.

"Just listen to the lyrics," Alexandra replied. "'Thunder! Thunder!' It's like their other songs that go 'Radioactive! Radioactive!' and 'Believer! Believer!' You'd think once was bad enough, but..."

Her companion's sigh died under the ponderous beat. She opened her mouth and said something.

"What?" replied Alexandra.

"Calling it a night, or are you game to check out a place around the corner I heard about?"

Alexandra resisted the urge to say something sarcastic about taking social tips from a soon-to-be-divorced thirtysomething. Instead, she rose from her seat. "After you!"

Seconds later, they had emerged into the biting cold of a Chicago winter evening.

"It's nice to be someplace that doesn't smell like stale men and sound like a frat party," said Alexandra.

"Yeah, when even bus exhaust is heaven to your nose," agreed Kelly. "Even if I wish I had worn a second pair of socks."

"I hope this isn't far," Alexandra said. She slid her arm through her new friend's, sleeves of their massive down jackets filling the entire gap.

"I just hope I can find it," came the reply. "I think it's on Halstead, but I've never actually been there."

"If you can get me there in five minutes or less, I'll buy the first round." They quickened their step, strides matched. "I think my hair is freezing. Like, literally."

Kelly ran a gloved hand over Alexandra's pixie. The strands crunched slightly.

"Well, yeah," she said. "Isn't not wearing a hat in January some sort of Chicago malpractice?"

"Isn't teasing someone who showed up at that shitshow to get blasted by corporate rock while sober some sort of...um, life malpractice?"

Kelly stopped and turned her head. "We can go back, you know."

At least she said it with a wink, Alexandra thought.

They didn't go back. After five minutes on the wide sidewalks, Kelly turned and descended down a short set of steps to a black wooden door. It had a blue diamond at shoulder level and no handle.

Kelly rang the bell, and soon came a tiny click.

Inside was hallway lit only by a red-shaded table lamp, a second door mere steps away. Blocking the door - blocking it entirely, with no space alongside, Alexandra noted - was a man of at least six and a half feet in height. He wore a fedora, a three-piece pinstripe suit, and no smile.

"What now?" asked Alexandra.

"I'm here to see Mr. Williams," said Kelly to the giant.

"This way, please," replied a voice that matched the figure.

Inside was barely lighter than the hall, with dark-stained wooden tables in dark-stained wooden sconces. Most were filled with attractive and well-dressed couples.

Alexandra immediately wished she could swap her black flats for heels. And upgrade the coat, and a dress instead of a sweater and jeans, and...

"First drinks are on the house for all newcomers," said the man-mountain, taking their coats and hanging them on brass hooks.

"Dark and Stormy, please," said Kelly.

"Uh..." Alexandra hesitated.

"A Southside for her, if you don't mind," interrupted Kelly.

The bouncer-cum-waiter disappeared into the red-tinged darkness.

"I have some questions," said Alexandra.

"Go ahead."

"First, what's a Southside?"

Kelly giggled. "Gin, lime juice, and some other stuff. But more importantly, it was Al Capone's drink of choice. What better to drink in a Chicago speakeasy?" She played with the lace neckline of her dress, which Alexandra noticed had matched the below-the-knee hem. A vintage, 1920s look, she tallied.

"Second, what is this place?"

"It doesn't have a name, but Cassandra says most people call it the Blue Diamond. You probably saw one on the door. But I think what you want me to say is that it's a revived speakeasy, that there actually was an old speakeasy in this basement, it was left forgotten and untouched for forty years after Prohibition ended, then rediscovered, and that most of the furnishings here are original."

"Is that true?"

"Per Cassandra, all of it. Her great-grandfather owned the entire block then," said Kelly.

"Who's Cassandra?"

Kelly craned her neck. "She owns this place. She's the one who invited me. She told me she usually tends bar herself on Saturdays."

"Okay... so, let me ask again, who is Cassandra?"

Alexandra's friend blushed a startling crimson. "She's...well, she lives in my building. I'd call her a friend, but truth be told I don't even know which unit is hers. I see her in the lobby and elevator."

The drinks arrived.

"I see," replied Alexandra, thinking the opposite. "This wasn't spur of the moment, was it?"

Kelly blushed again and shook her head. "I...I was sorta hoping more people would stick around. Strength in numbers and all that."

"After that last place? I mean, this couldn't be more different." That was true: the thundering corporate rock had been swapped for the murmur of conversation and clinking of glasses, and the standing-room-only crowd for a politely seated patronage. "But I'm happy I came. This drink is amazing."

"One more question: how did that guy know we were newcomers?"

"I assume the 'Mr. Williams' password is only for first-timers," said Kelly. "I was worried they might have changed it or something. I've been...well, I've been wanting to come for a few weeks now."

"And why haven't you?"

"Lack of courage," said Kelly, taking a sip of liquid courage. "It's a little too up my alley in some ways."

"Meaning?"

Another blush.

"I kinda have this thing for, like, Prohibition-era fashion and stuff. Did you ever see that Netflix series, Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries?"

Alexandra's heart practically skipped a beat. "Wow, yes! Kira and I actually just finished it two nights ago."

"What did you think?"

How honest should I be? Alexandra decided the answer was 100% honest.

"I found the plots fun but a bit formulaic, but - and I appreciate this doesn't apply to you - I found the lead actress was so attractive that I wouldn't have cared if she'd stopped mid-script and started reciting the Pledge of Allegiance. In that accent, of course."

"I doubt she knows the Pledge," said Kelly. "The accent isn't fake; she actually is Australian."

"That doesn't make me like her any less," replied Alexandra.

"That's more or less what Cassandra looks like, by the way."

"That doesn't make me like her any less either," said Alexandra. "Please tell me she dresses like a flapper when she's running this place."

"Happy to. She dresses like that a lot of the time. She's not the most conventional-looking person."

"This isn't the most conventional drinking establishment. And it appears you tried out a little of the look tonight, too?"

"I kept it covered up at the other place pretty well, right?" The note in Kelly's voice rang as hopeful but doubting.

"You did. Now stand up and give me a twirl, please?"

Kelly stood and spun. The dress swept around her figure, hugging her hips and swishing a wild arc around her legs. At the hem, it flipped up, giving the flash of bare leg above Kelly's black over-the-knee stockings.

Alexandra swallowed.

"Twirl achieved," said Kelly, sitting down. "I know it's a little ridiculous, but hey, live a little?"

Live a little, indeed, thought Alexandra. She wondered if Kelly had noticed the eyeballs flicking to her from all corners of the bar. And not least from a pair of dark eyes behind the bar.

"Oh! I almost forgot," said Alexandra. "If you're into murder mysteries, Mette runs a book club. It's ladies-only, if you get my drift, but it's exclusively focused on what she so eloquently calls 'books about dead people.' I thought you might be interested given the interest in Phryne Fisher."

Kelly leaned back and stroked her nose. "Well, books about dead people could also include things like eight-volume biographies of some seventeenth-century English king, right?"

"I should clarify, Miss Pedant. Interesting books about fictional dead people."

"Ah," replied Kelly. "You were just about to get me interested. After all, my second new interest beyond Prohibition is the Battle of Bosworth."

"Bosworth?"

"Bosworth," said Kelly. "Short story, some inbred hunchback who happened to be the King of England fell off his horse. Shakespeare wrote a play about it or something."

"Shakespeare wrote plays about a lot of things," replied Alexandra. And I haven't read or seen any of them since high school.

"Yes. But let's just say that other than Hamlet, I wouldn't class many of them as qualifying for your book club."

"It's not my book club," responded Alexandra. "It's Mette's. I barely meet the minimum requirements for education, age, and attractiveness."

Kelly's eyes flashed down Alexandra's body, then quickly back up.

"Well, then I'm fucked," she said.

"Nonsense."

"Yeah," I know, said Kelly, waving a hand as if shooing away an imaginary cloud of smoke. "I'm definitely old enough."

"And if the way the people in here checked you out with that little twirl is any measure, you're also definitely hot enough. Schooling, that's your problem."

Kelly laughed, polishing off her drink and setting the empty tumbler aside.

"You said something about Prohibition?" Alexandra couldn't resist the jibe.

"Yes. It interests me," said Kelly with another chuckle. "Who the fuck thought that was a good idea?"

"Besides the Women's Christian Temperance Union, the United States Congress, and enough state legislatures to ratify a Constitutional amendment?"

"Besides them. And that sounds a lot like an eight-volume U.S. history textbook."

"It was a required course," said Alexandra.

"Oh, shut up. You're a nerd and you love it, your opinions of a long-dead sonneteer aside. So stop apologizing. Embrace it."

"I'd like to embrace another round," replied Alexandra. "Same thing?"

"Please."

Alexandra felt eyes on her from multiple directions as she approached the wide bar. Glasses hung from above, dangling over three antique carved beer taps. The whole setup reflected in a smoky mirror on the back wall, in which Alexandra checked her reflection before clearing her throat.

The woman behind the beer taps did not look up.

"Excuse me," said Alexandra.

"Can I help you?"

Alexandra caught the fire in the dark eyes. While Kelly had been correct - Cassandra actually did look like Essie Davis, even up close, from the long pale limbs to the sharp jaw to the dramatic Louise Brooks-style bob - the woman's beauty was nearly matched by her foul mood.

"I..." She caught herself. "It's my first time here. My friend," she said with emphasis she hoped was neither necessary nor awkward, "thought this might be a nice place for a cheer-me-up drink. My girlfriend's out of town and it's..." She let the sentence trail off, watching the bartender's reaction.

It was as expected. The tense jaw loosened and narrow eyes widened.

Aha, thought Alexandra. Well, good to clear up that misunderstanding.

"Well, what can I get to cheer you up?" The voice now was a pleasant alto, words no longer clipped into bitter syllables.

"Dark and Stormy for Kelly, I think. What do you have on tap?"

"A beer girl? Wouldn't have guessed." Alexandra felt eyes on her again, this time from across the bar, and her cheeks tingled with a blush in response. "All pretty local. This," she said, pointing a long finger with silver polished at the first tap, "is Bell's Oberon. Standard Goose Island 312 in the one that looks like a Goose. Last one is Founders Breakfast Stout. You like dark beers?"

"I... well, I don't really know."

"This thing's about as far from Bud Light as you can get, but it's eight percent alcohol, so it'll do the trick even if you don't like the taste. And, because it's your first time and I own this joint, it's on the house. Deal?"

"Deal," said Alexandra.

She watched Cassandra pull the pint. A small head of foam built atop the inky brown-black liquid. The woman had a graceful way of moving, her whole arm moving in sync to bring the glass slowly to level. And nice lean muscles, too, Alexandra noted.

Cassandra tucked a lock of jaw-length raven hair behind her ear and slid the pint to Alexandra.

"Now hang on for the Dark and Stormy."

Alexandra watched her face in the mirror as she mixed the drink. The woman's red lips seemed to be muttering something as her hands worked. When she was done, she straightened, shot a glance down the bar and nodded to a waiting customer, and turned to Alexandra.

"This one's on the house, too," she said. "But just so you know, we do eventually expect payment for our alcohol here. And the bar is open quite late for those who need it," she said.

Ooooh, thought Alexandra. Is flirting by proxy a thing now? Moreover, is hitting on a straight chick through her gay friend also a thing now? Because I'm pretty sure that's what's happening.

"Well, I'm a pretty good tipper," she replied. "But I think Kelly's got deeper pockets, sooooo..."

"Deeper pockets are the best ones to get into, aren't they?"

Alexandra felt her cheeks blush even more powerfully as the tall woman disappeared down the bar. She realized she'd need more than one sip of beer before she returned to face Kelly.

She checked her phone. No messages. So she typed a quick one to her girlfriend.

Alexandra: Everything okay?

Kira replied instantly.

Kira: Yep. Dad's fine, cracking jokes. At least I'm laughing at them. Mom looks like she's the one who had heart surgery.

Alexandra: Need anything?

Kira: A glass of wine or three would be nice. Plus you.

Alexandra switched the phone to camera mode and snapped a selfie, beer in hand, then sent it.

Kira: <3 Where's that?

Alexandra: Some basement speakeasy called the Blue Diamond. Bartender/owner is hot AF, btw.

Kira: Easy, tigress. Now be a good girl and send me a pic?

Alexandra zoomed in on the beer glass and clicked away from three angles.

Alexandra: Ohhhh, of HER? Nah, just imagine Phryne Fisher handing me this drink.

Kira: Nuh-uh. Pic.

Alexandra: Later. Creeper.

Kira: Lush. Flirting with bartenders the second I leave town.

Alexandra: It's been hours. And it's Kelly she wants anyway.

Kira: Oof. Ya gonna tell her?

Alexandra: Nooooooooope.

She sipped the beer. It had a full flavor with a sharp undertone. Like a full red wine in beer form, she thought. Nice.

Kira: Well, maybe you can suggest to Kelly that she try something new. Sounds like she could use a new adventure.

Alexandra: Creeper.

Kira: There's a first time for everyone! And don't pretend you didn't think about it when she did that body shot off of you.

Alexandra took another inch off the top of her pint, this time savoring the flavor. Kira was right, of course: when Kelly had done a rather enthusiastic shot of liquor off Alexandra's stomach at a wild New Years' Eve party, the thought had indeed occurred that the soon-to-be-divorcee might not be so out of place in a crowd of lesbians as she professed to be.