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Your name is Spades Slick, and you currently have a date with the cutest damn gal you've ever seen. You are the luckiest mobster to ever suck air, you think as you watch your little dame dash from place to place in her bedroom.
You're early, she says.
You nod.
I would have been ready had you come at eight like we planned, she says.
You nod again. Sorry doll, you say. Couldn't stay away I guess.
She blushes prettily and you smile.
She's wearing the most tantalizing little number, black and green with matching shoes. Her signature bonnet is strapped around her head and she's humming a cute little tune.
Finally, she slips her purse over her arm and smiles at you. Shall we? She asks.
It's eight on the dot.
You nod and offer her your arm. She takes it with a smile, and you escort her out the door.
Your plan is to take her out, show her a good time, and get her to tell you she loves you.
Then maybe tell her you love her back.
You're taking her to the swankiest speakeasy in town, a secretive little place beneath a hotel your buddy Boxcars runs. He gives you a good deal on rooms when you need 'em.
You tap out the secret code on the door and your man opens it up for you. Deuce is a good man, even if he ain't got too many brains around him. He smiles at your gal and takes her coat, and you give him a look to warn him off from being too friendly. She wasn't some floozy to be passed around, even between friends.
She was looking all bedazzled like at the room, really liking the decor, you guess. It was pretty nice. Couple of gas lamp chandeliers, some floor to ceiling mirrors on the left wall. The wood was all dark and high quality, and the bar served some real saucy stuff.
She turned slowly to you and smiled that smile you adore.
Care to dance some? She asks you.
Well of course you care to dance some, you tell her and take her hand.
Your right hand man Droog was on the piano when you two stepped on the floor, and he caught your eye and started up a jazzy little ragtime piece. She's laughing and the two of you move like perfection across the floor, jitterbugging a bit towards the end of the song, just for the hell of it.
I can't believe I'm here, she's whispering in your ear.
You ask her why not but she just shakes her head and pulls you into another dance. She didn't wanna talk about it, you guess.
By the time she's ready to get something to drink, even your ankles hurt a bit, not that you'd ever let her know that. You lead her over to a table and wave for some drinks. Deuce comes over with some scotch for you and some rum for the lady. She could drink that stuff like it was ginger ale, you swear. She was one tough little dame.
Spades? She asks quietly.
You lean in to hear her over the noise. Yeah doll?
I wanna say something to you, but I don't want you to think I'm soft or nothing. She looks nervous.
You smile at her as best you can. Little dame, I promise I won't think you're soft.
She seemed to be looking at your face, trying to decide if you were lying, you suppose. After a moment she nods.
I love you Spades Slick, and I can't go another minute without you knowing.
You smile a real smile at her and lean forward a bit more to kiss her cheek.
Oh yeah?
She nods.
Well, I love you too Miss Paint. What do you think about that?
You swear the girl lit up like a Christmas tree before she threw her arms round your neck and kissed you, right there in front of everyone.
What a sweet little dame you got yourself.