I had no problems to fit into my role. My name: “Lily Harriot”, horse doctor. Of course I downloaded some dictionary of the time and quickly learned some of the language to blend in. Language comes easy to me, so no big deal.
Maggie aka “Emily Lawrence” now looks like real jailbait, much more like 18 than the 14 she really is, so we had no problems entering the club. It’s a hidden entry with a phone booth against a wall. She had a few problems to find out how that phone worked, because it had no keys to press but a silly construction with a dial. After she dialed a certain number, the back of the booth swung open and we entered. Me in my green flapper dress, covered in a furry coat and with feathers and a diadem on my head, she in something blueish.
The Marigold was just the place you’d imagine of a speak-easy. Still at the time we arrived it wasn’t much traffic so Jacob introduced us to the barman, I swung my stilts on the stool and Maggie started to order some heavy hootch. I’m all but her alarm clock, so I said nothing. My job is to take care that she learns something and doesn’t kill herself doing it. I slapped me a anti-alc dose on my skin and ordered a Manhattan. I can play tipsy much better when I feel the tingle of some ethanol in my throat. Whatever, I tried to keep myself sober with the patch anyway, even if I know I’m a real drinker and totally resistant to alcohol! I am! Sort of, if you ain’t countin’ the few few crashes I had from that stuff. Like the Dublin Donkey in the Bawdy Lass that made me collapse after a bit of dancin’. Maybe a bugger with patching it away, but work is work and I got a bug in the oven, remember? So I’m trying hard to keep myself sober during this job.
So we hung around in the joint, Maggie got some Ork trying to hustle her, but you know Maggie and Orks? Guess she’s a bit biased. Which is kind of a flaw in her character but funny to watch. A man, Edward, who was in a small group came to the bar and asked me if I wanna join his bunch and of cause I did! He’s Father Time, but okay for his age. His folks were mixed age, a woman named Briony, who seems to be history prof, one of her students and a couple of other folks ‘n barlows. We had some nice feathers, Edward ordered me a Planters Punch, which was the cat’s pyjamas! They also noted that I was a Brooksy, means they have seen that my clothes were from Edith‘s shop and classy. Guess I blushed a bit. I’m still not good at taking a tip of the hat, I guess.
At nine-hundred our mark was supposed to show at the club, so I wandered off to the bar, ordered another drink and claimed to be half cut, which was not that hard with all the alcohol I consumed, patched or not.
Sanders entered with a friend and a bodyguard. But instead of sitting at the bar he went sitting at some table off the bar. Which was not going like planned. Really not. Maggie had her second visit from that Ork dude and this time she was unfitting her gloves to bugger him off, he left the bar without even taking his drink. Next time she’ll probable electrocute him. Isn’t she a ‘cutie? Well, I’m a Sip but the dance-floor was still deserted and I fired up a gear, faked that call to Leo “The Saw”, begged him to let me put a bet. I watched the reaction of Sanders, but even if he must have overheard it, he didn’t care. Second thing that went wrong. I hate it when I’m gendered like this and men ignore me! No chance! Grrr. Okay, so now I tried again, begging on a second call one of Leos fake friends, that he’ll put the wager for me.
This time Sanders noted and twiddled over to the bar. Next to me. Not too close. I ordered an other drink, seemingly very tipsy. He started the talk and that was the moment I was putting out the hook, he bit and that’s more or less what happened until now. While I’m logging this on my headmem, Maggie wandered off through the bar to avoid that orkish Appleknocker, she seated herself with Sanders’ bodyguard. Let’s see what’s happening next, some heavy petting? Haha! With Maggie so close to that bodyguard, I hope she is aware she will be playing to kill me, later when she has her contract on me from Leo. And that she’s in her role.
Damn no dancing yet. No cocaine offers either. Hope there are not more things going queer with our plan. And whatever will happen, I WILL DANCE! Some moments I think I’m more in on this for the party than for the scam. No. Of course I’m professional. I’m in for work. But a little dance wouldn’t hurt… no?