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“You’re wearing your hair down again. I love it like that.”
She touches the loose waves of her hair as though she had forgotten she wore it down. “I think I’m beginning to like it this way. What is this place? Are you sure we’re safe here?” She tries to hide her wrinkled nose as she looks in curious disgust at the dirty, old building in front of us. The pressure on my arm increases when she tightens her grip.
It’s not very pretty on the outside, that’s for sure.
“Don’t worry, the inside is much nicer. It’ll be fun.”
“Hmm. Should we tell the driver to wait here while we check it out?” she says doubtfully.
I grin down at her without answering.
As we approach the neglected building, I knock on the door. A few moments later a small sliding panel slides halfway open. “Password.”
“Giggle Water,” I say to the gentleman on the other side.
The heavy door quietly opens to the sound of lively, happy music. Through the dim lighting, we can see people smiling, laughing, dancing, and just having a great time. Some patrons are dressed in styles from the 1920s. Liz turns to me, and her entire demeanor has changed. She clutches my arm with excitement in her eyes. “Oh my gosh! Is this a speakeasy? I’ve always wanted to go to one.”
I can’t contain my smile when I see how her face lights up. I’m glad I took a chance with this place. “Yes, it’s a speakeasy. One of the best in Manhattan.”
The host finds our name on the reservation list and directs us to our reserved booth. Just as I requested, it’s a secluded circular booth in the back of the room. Liz slides into the booth, and I slide in next to her.
Liz is looking around her in awe. “This is probably the coolest retro bar I’ve ever been in.”
Her eyes are bouncing around the room. She takes in the costumed servers, the textured wallpaper adorning the walls, the jazz band playing up front, and the polished mahogany bar taking up almost the entire wall of the cozy, intimate room.
We scan the menu as the sounds of jazz fill the room. A server, wearing a navy-blue flapper dress, stops by our table and gets our food and drink order.
“You know you’re going to miss Manhattan. It’s not too late to change your mind, you know,” I say as I playfully bump into her with my arm.
“Of course, I’ll miss it. This will always be home.”
“Do you think they have anything like this place in Syracuse?” I ask innocently.
Liz laughs. “No, and they don’t have the Empire State Building, Central Park, or anything else that Manhattan has. If you’re planning to use that as an argument as to why I shouldn’t move, you can forget it.”
I hold up my hands in feigned innocence. “I wasn’t trying to convince you to stay. I’m sure the trees and roads are very exciting in Syracuse. Way better than the Roaring Twenties vibe of this boring, old speakeasy.”
“Really? That’s how you’re going to be?” she says with a sardonic brow lifted in question.
“Well, yeah. If you want to live in that lame, lifeless city, who am I to stop you?”
The server comes by with our drinks and the crab cake appetizers. “An old fashioned for you, sir and a sidecar for you. Good choices. Shall I keep them coming?”
“Maybe you can just keep bringing us different drinks to try?”
The server nods. “Will do. Your dinner should be out shortly.” She winks dramatically before going to the next table.
“Try these crab cakes. I’ve heard they’re delicious.” I pick up one and raise it to Liz’s mouth.
She hesitates a second before leaning in. She puts her hand on my thigh for balance and gingerly takes a bite. “That’s so good.”
She realizes where her hand is and jerks it back quickly, placing it on her lap. A pretty flush stains her cheeks.
“How’s your drink? I’ve never tried a sidecar before.”
“I’ve never had this before either,” she says. “It’s good. Ethan, thank you so much for bringing me here. I don’t think I’d ever have come here on my own.”
“Don’t thank me. I have my own nefarious motives for getting you alone,” I tease.
