Speakeasy Love

Ready or Not

Hi, I just wanted to say before the story starts that I'm incredibly excited to be writing this story because I love the 1920s, and I believe this will be an excellent opportunity to combine my love for history with a positive, creative outlet. Warning, there will be some naughty parts, so read at your own discretion! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!😘

Rose knew she had done it now when she could see her mother was clutching at her pearl-encrusted neck, looking at her daughter like she was possessed by the devil himself and her daddy was so red he was brighter than the gardener's heirloom tomatoes. In her mind, her actions were practically harmless. It was only a little gin ... and a slightly dishevelled footman in a broom closet. Besides, it was 1926! Women were supposed to be enjoying the freedoms of the less restrictive modern-day world ... that is everyone it seems but Rose Kingsley.

As the train zipped by her eyes, Rose could tell she had finally pushed her parents too far this time. Sure, she had her fun since she ditched her pinafores and dollies for slip dresses and boys who were much more fun to play with. But what could she do other than make her own fun when all her mother attempted to fill Rose's days with were stuffy garden parties and even stuffier sons of her mother's friends who were deemed "appropriate suitors for a young lady of her station." Each of them more of a flat tire than the last had made an increasingly rambunctious Rose to persuade one of the young servants to temporarily put aside societal pretences with a bottle of her father's finest gin (procured prior to the prohibition and just waiting to be poured). Before she knew it, she had to untangle herself from his wanting body and fiery lips, barely in time for her parents to rip open the door. In penance for her unruly and sinful behaviour, Rose was being sent to her devout Aunt Marlene's home for the summer in Chicago to teach her a lesson and avoid any further scandal she might have come up with. Rose agreed to this arrangement on the conditions that the servant in question was to be given a glowing reference in order to find alternative employment and that upon her return, her mother would cease on her efforts to fling her onto the closest appropriate bachelor. Secretly Rose was excited to leave her home for the city. Maybe despite her lacklustre accommodations, she'd be able to actually have some fun and finally acquire some true freedom.

As the train approached its final destination, Chicago, and the buildings got bigger and the lights got brighter, Rose caught her reflection in the window of her first-class cabin. Her wavy, deep chocolate brown hair, which played with a reddish tint in the sunlight, was smothered in a dull, cloche hat that her mother pinned to her head in an effort to conceal her freshly bobbed hair. A few weeks before the footman incident, Rose had secretly dashed off to the salon with the newest copy of Photoplay to chop off her long locks for a bob modelled after the spiffiest actresses and stars that were splashed across her magazine.

Her mother also managed to force her into one of her dullest shifts and even worst, a corset that she managed to pitch the second she entered the powder room after boarding the train, along with the garters that held up her stockings, which were now promptly rolled down below her knees. Thankfully, Rose managed to pack the rest of her bags herself and made sure to include all her ritziest glad rags and cosmetics among her more demure of outfits.

After examining her progress, she realized that this was the best she could do without alarming her aunt and causing an even larger uproar from her arrival. At least she was done up enough to her satisfaction, and it seems that of the odd passing male passengers. Finally, the train ground to a stop at LaSalle Station and Rose collected her things with the help of a stout porter with a cheery grin. As she stepped outside, Rose marvelled at how the city had grown since last she'd visited as a small child. A smirk started to spread across her face as a thought crossed her mind. "Ready or not, Chicago... Here I come."