Chapter Text
Atlantic City, New Jersey
December 11, 1944
“Hold still, Elizabeth,” Alice spat through gritted teeth as she pulled the fastenings on the metal-boned corset tighter. Betty bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath, more from the pain than from her manager’s wishes. She felt another brutal tug, grimacing as she heard the laces chafe against each other, as it cinched her waist even smaller.
“Honestly,” Betty sighed. “Must this be so tight? Please don’t start engaging in odd lifts or barbells or you’ll crack a rib.”
Already glammed up and perched delicately on the olive green ottoman in the corner, Veronica snorted before dropping her eyes back down to the magazine in hand, worried that her slight chortle would draw Alice’s attention to herself.
“Always with the dramatics, Elizabeth,” Alice sighed, giving one more tug for good measure. “Now, I expect you to have your signature pink lipstick and that red silk gown on when I return before showtime at half-past. Veronica, you’ll see to it?”
“Of course, Mrs. Cooper,” Veronica smiled. “Elizabeth and I always take care of one another.”
Alice nodded curtly, seemingly pleased with Veronica’s response, and fixed Betty with one more patented eyebrow raise and glare before leaving. When the clack of her heels had quieted to no more than a faint scuff, Betty whipped around from her vanity and Veronica sprung from the ottoman, loosening the ties along Betty’s spine at once and giggling as she gulped in a deep breath of relief.
“Oh, thank you,” Betty huffed out, rubbing her rib cage with her palm. “Honestly, no one has worn a steel-boned corset in a decade. She’s mad!”
Veronica grinned as she helped her friend and co-star shimmy from the offending garb.
“Perhaps if you reminded her there is a steel shortage and the linings of your undergarments could be used for war she’d donate them. You know how Alice likes the soldiers.”
Betty rolled her eyes as Veronica grabbed the more sensible and comfortable girdle with elastic, though still with boning in the back should Alice get after Betty about her posture.
“Oh, please, Ronnie,” Betty snarked. “If rubber wasn’t also in shortage for the war she’d have me in one of those tight rubber ones with breathing holes. She doesn’t fuss over what’s under your skirts.”
“She isn’t my mother, B,” Veronica shrugged. “She’s much harder on you than the rest of the girls and me.”
Alice Cooper had entered the workforce, like many women had, when the war began as men enlisted to honor their country. Her own husband, Hal Cooper, along with Veronica’s father, Hiram Lodge, had run the River Club before they laid down their business ledgers in favor of rifles. Both were lost in May 1942 at the Battle of the Coral Sea when their ship, the USS Lexington, caught fire after Japanese torpedo bombers bombarded the ship. The only solace for the women left at home was that the battle forced Japan to call off its invasion, so Hal and Hiram had not perished in vain.
For her part, Alice was nothing but resilient. She grieved, she collected herself, and then she continued to run their business, making it even more lucrative than it was before. But just as she seized the reins of the River Club tightly, she also tightened her hold on Betty, particularly after her older daughter, Pauline, ran off with a sailor two years earlier and then her son, Charles, was killed in Germany the year after Hal. The fact that she allowed Betty to sing in the club was about as indulgent as Alice could be.
They had just about settled Betty into her dress and were poised to gloss on a bit of Pink Perfection lip paint when Alice’s heels came clacking down the hall once again, accompanied by others with excited chatter.
“Elizabeth, Veronica,” Alice called, smiling widely from ear to ear. “Change of plans. Skip the Pink Perfection, Elizabeth, dear, and put on some Victory Red instead and make sure it’s a precise Hunter’s Bow on her, would you Veronica?”
“Mom?”
“I’m not your mother at work, Elizabeth.” Alice reminded her. “Now do as I say and meet me in the general dressing room at once.”
With a flick of her golden waves, Alice was gone and Betty and Veronica just shrugged, Betty excited for the chance for a more daring lip than her mother usually allowed. Only a few moments later they entered the main dressing area to find some of the other performers all gathered around a familiar face, hanging on her every word.
“I can’t tell you ladies how pleasing it is to be married and taking care of my Dilly!” Ethel gushed, glancing up to smirk at Betty and Veronica. For three years before her marriage, Ethel had been one of Alice’s trusted spies around the club, with the trivial title of costume designer, she was more a stool pigeon than anything.
“Ethel,” Veronica grinned, overly toothy. “How lovely to have you back. I’m surprised your dear Dilly could spare you for an evening while you’re still in the newlywed stage.”
Though it sounded playful, Ethel knew otherwise. There was no love lost between Veronica and Ethel, not after how many times she had reported Veronica for sneaking out after hours. Alice liked her girls proper and under her thumb and watchful eye at all times. She also had a strict no-booze policy that Veronica could not seem to adhere to.
“Dilton is actually here tonight,” Ethel gushed, glancing towards the main hall. “He heard some high-ranking soldiers who are also from Hollywood would be in attendance from another platoon and was hoping to spark up a conversation and make some connections. He knows one of their friends from training.
“Soldiers and actors!” Val gushed, clapping excitedly. “They are back on U.S. soil ladies and it’s a good time to grab a husband, especially a wealthy one! Besides, they must be parched after all that time spent in the trenches. They’ll be looking to wet their whistles.”
While Ethel’s eyes blew wide in shock and Betty flushed crimson knowing her mother was watching her response, Veronica hooted, too excited at the possibility of a ticket away from this prison to care what Alice thought.
“Settle down, girls,” Alice warned. “There will be proper decorum here tonight. This is an award-winning and well-respected club, not a brothel. We will, however, want to pay extra attention to our boys home from war. And yes, it is not a bad time to keep your eyes and minds open for the prospect of a husband. Now, touch up that Victory Red so we can show those boys the entertaining evening they deserve.”
…..
“Remind me again, why must we attend this flashy display of holiday ridiculousness?” Jughead asked as Archie slapped him on the back and rushed up to the doors, waving excitedly to their friend, Reggie, who was already waiting up ahead.
“Jug, we haven’t seen Reggie since his deployment. He wasn’t lucky enough to be in the same unit as we were. It’s a miracle alone that we all made it home and for Christmas. He was here and we were only a few hours away at Fort Hancock when we got in. We should embrace the season! Enjoy the decorations! This is Atlantic City and we are in our prime!!”
“And by decorations he means women,” Reggie leered, grabbing Archie and pulling him into a quick hug. “Because the dancers here are… they are tens, gentlemen.”
“If we’re going to refer to women as tens, I don’t think you can call us gentlemen, Reg,” Jughead huffed out, grimacing as Reggie pulled him in for a hug of his own.
“Oh, Jones,” Reggie smiled while shaking his head in good mirth. “I even missed your elevated sense of self and that sardonic humor you pretend comes naturally. But really, the ladies here are beautiful and I have it on good measure from a fellow soldier, Dilton Doiley, that his wife said a bunch of them are able grable.”
Archie, though quite fond of women and what they had to offer, wasn’t as much of a dog as Reggie, and had the grace to just laugh him off as he insinuated the girls were quite promiscuous. Jughead couldn’t be bothered with the silly delights that one night with a giggling broad would achieve. He needed a connection, something more.
“You two are doll-dizzy,” Jughead cracked, glancing around at the crowds. “I bet half the men here are on leave and looking for a date. Me? I just hope the meal is hot and flavorful.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying, Jones!” Reggie guffawed, laughing at what he believed to be his own cleverness. He was mid-chortle when he was approached by none other than Alice Cooper herself.
“Reginald Mantle,” Alice gushed, pressing her hands together in elation. “ And Archibald Andrews and Forsythe Jones. First you were on the big screen, then sent overseas, and now here you are in my club. What a wonderful surprise. The girls are all a-twitter with nerves to perform for such celebrities as yourselves.”
“Mrs. Cooper,” Archie nodded politely. “We are pleased to be here. Reggie here has said that you have one of the finest supper clubs in the state.”
“ The finest,” Alice corrected him politely. “Now come. I have reserved the best seats for you.”
Reggie, practically skipping, entered the hall as Archie followed, Jughead toeing the plush carpeting and watching the lights on the marquis.
“Come along, Forsythe,” Alice prodded. “You won’t want to miss this.”
With a stiff smile, Jughead stepped inside, Alice linking her arm through his. “I prefer Jughead, ma’am.”
“Oh, I know you do,” Alice said in a manner that was sweet yet also somehow laced with arsenic, all the while still smiling and nodding at guests as they walked to the reserved table. “I read the tabloids. And I prefer extra sugar in my coffee, but with rationing that isn’t going to happen, now is it? Sometimes we don’t get what we want, Forsythe. Now you remind your friends of that when my girls come out as you seem like the… most sensible of this gang. There will be no floy floy here tonight. Not on my watch.”
Though he was at least six inches taller, he found himself intimidated anyway by her directness and the manner in which she commanded his attention.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jughead found himself nodding. “We’re just looking to eat and relax. It’s good to be home.”
Alice’s features softened a bit and she patted his cheek. “It’s good to see you boys come home safely. My husband and son weren’t as lucky. Sit and enjoy. I’ll have the kitchen send you some extras if they can spare it.”
The club itself was not his style. He preferred a dark, dim mahogany bar, with darts in the corner and a quiet seat to read. There were a few back in Hollywood that were particularly kind about ignoring his famous persona and treating him like a regular.
The black marble floors and gaudy stone pillars here left him feeling like a Roman Emperor, minus the toga, and the waiters all looked like little penguins in their suits, tails flapping as they waddled around the room with their trays piled high with drinks.
It was easy to find their table, the gaggle of khaki-wacky women flocking towards Archie and Reggie. Jughead knew that Reggie was eating it up and Archie would be a good sport, but his friend was looking for love, not a one-night fling, and Jughead, well he was just looking for a steak.
“Jug!” Archie cried, waving him over. “Jug, this is Ethel, Dilton’s wife, and some of the girls she knows here- Val, Melody, and Ronnie.”
It was the look. The look. The one Archie couldn’t shake when he found a new girl he thought might be the one. And currently, that look was centered on Ronnie, a masculine nickname if you asked him. He could see how Archie would fall for her quickly. She seemed poised and fashion-forward, her eyebrows perfect, her figure trim, and her raven-black hair tied to the side carefully. She was a seductress wrapped up in a neat package and he only hoped Archie didn’t get too attached. He had a habit of doing just that.
“Forsythe Jones,” Melody gushed, clearly a regular at the pictures before he left for the war.
“Jughead,” Val corrected her, leaning over to brush his shoulder. “Haven’t you read the papers? He prefers that.”
“I think it’s nifty,” Ethel shrugged, blushing and looking over her shoulder to make sure Dilton wasn’t within earshot.
“Girls!” Alice called from across the floor. “We do have a show to do. Let’s go.”
With a few more giggles and saved dances, the girls took off and Jughead finally sat down.
“Jug-”
“Oh, Arch, please don’t say it,” Jughead whined.
“I think she’s the one, man. I could feel it when my eyes locked with hers, you know? Our chemistry was intense. I was clobbered right then and there.”
“Well then, I’ll call the minister and we’ll sign the deal tonight,” Jughead countered, looking around for a waiter and hoping for at least some appetizers soon.
“I’m serious, Jug. We’re meeting up tonight already after the show closes out. The girls are going to sneak out and meet us down at Henry’s for a drink. Please, Jug. Come with me and give her a chance. You’ll see that we’re destined.”
Jughead sighed once more and looked over at the childish, hopeful look on his friend’s face.
“Fine, you big chucklehead,” he conceded. “But only because I’m always rooting for you and after what we’ve just gone through, you deserve some happiness.”
Archie clapped him on the back and grinned wide, turning towards the dance floor and stage as the music queued up for the show to begin.
“I know, man. And I’m rooting for you. Who knows, maybe some dish will steal your heart tonight too.”
The lights dimmed and the jazzy sounds of the band began, a jingly, Christmassy feel to it with the brass instruments taking the lead. The slow intro played into the drama of the moment as the curtains parted ever so slowly and Veronica came into view, coincidentally at the same time, Jughead finally received his appetizer which he promptly popped into his mouth, ignoring the stage completely.
As she sauntered out, smiling coyly and in time with music, Veronica’s voice filled the room, spreading the lyrics of Richard. B. Smith’s “Winter Wonderland” throughout the hall with her singsong voice.
“Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?
In the lane, snow is glistening.
A beautiful sight,
We're happy tonight,
Walking in a winter wonderland.”
Jughead hadn’t bothered to even look up at the stage, more focused on his shrimp, but he knew from the off-the-cob look on Archie’s face that it was Veronica singing. As her bravado rang out, reverberating off the crystal chandeliers, Jughead just reached for the cocktail sauce, dunking his tiny ocean delicacies in further. He only knew her performance was done when the table cloth tugged, almost knocking over his glass of whiskey, as Archie stood up at attention and clapped wildly for the raven-haired object of his affection, elbowing Jughead and nudging him to do the same.
Reluctantly he stood, offering a lackluster clap, all the while eyeing the catering carts which seemed to be preparing round two.
When Archie sat again, a goofy grin still plastered on his face, Jughead hoped for a long, early intermission to quietly enjoy his meal. Seating himself as well, he sighed as the lights dimmed even lower.
“Super. Another dame the boys’ will interrupt my meal for,” he thought as he dipped another shrimp in the crystal bowl beside his plate.
“This one is a newer tune, folks,” the bandmaster announced. “A heartfelt, lovely song from our own resident heartfelt lovely doll, Elizabeth Cooper.”
As the strings eased into a slow tempo and Jughead focused on his plate, his hand stopped midway to his mouth, his eyes automatically drawn to the front when he heard her voice.
“Have yourself a merry little Christmas,
Let your heart be light.
From now on,
Your troubles will be out of sight.”
Though her voice caught him initially, it was her bold, green, glistening eyes that kept him there, frozen in awe as her low, rumbly voice sang out to the room. Unlike the playfulness of Veronica's performance, this one had the room still and enraptured, as if under a trance and Jughead was not immune. The red silk gown adorned with a shimmering band across the top and ruffles cascading down the sides looked shone under the spotlight, casting a shadow that made her look soft and kind and Jughead found that for the first time in a long while he wanted to know a woman- to hear her speak and to know her heart.
And then she locked eyes with him and he swore for a moment the whole room stopped along with his heart. She was beautiful. She was enrapturing. She was dangerous. Not just any woman could make Jughead Jones forget about shrimp cocktail. He realized he had been staring for far too long when Archie just smirked knowingly at him. Jughead shook it off as the applause sounded around him and her song ended. He didn’t rise and he didn’t clap. He pushed her to the back of his mind and went back to his shrimp. He didn’t need anyone in his life. He just needed a good meal.
…..
“Betty Cooper!” Veronica squealed as she walked into the back dressing room. “I saw you out there, singing for an audience of one.”
Betty sat back against the vanity chair as she changed her earrings in preparation for her next gown.
“Always with the dramatics, Ronnie,” Betty sighed, ignoring her and turning back to reapply another coat of Victory Red. “I was singing like always.”
Veronica huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “You lie, lady. You barely could look away from that Forsythe Jones. I thought you may swoon and I’d have to fetch the smelling salts.”
Puckering her lips together to smooth out the gloss, Betty rolled her eyes and mouthed a silent “ha, ha” in the mirror.
“I am serious, B,” Veronica warned her with a lift of an eyebrow. “And don’t get me wrong, I think he’s exactly your type. Heaven knows you could use a bit of the horizontal mambo.”
“Veronica!” Betty gasped. “And in the same sentence that you speak of heaven. Besides, mother has banned the mambo, in any form, from these premises.”
“Well, what if we weren’t on these premises?” Veronica asked teasingly.
“V,” Betty gasped at the all-too-familiar canary-like smile on her friend’s face. “What did you do?”
Veronica just shrugged and bit her lip, swaying her way over to the vanity seat next to Betty’s.
“I’m meeting Archie in the alley after the show and we are heading to Henry’s for a nightcap. Come with us.”
“Veronica, I couldn’t possibly! My mother-”
“Your mother will be quite busy, I assure you. It’s all taken care of.”
Betty glanced up at Veronica through her lashes, her face etched with worry. She just needed a push.
“Do something for you , Betty,” Veronica advised. “You do everything for Alice. You’re twenty-four years old. Live your life.”
Betty chewed on her bottom lip, glancing around at the hustle and bustle of the dressing room and her mother barking orders.
“Just one nightcap,” Betty acquiesced. “And then we come back. Just a short, innocent visit.”
The slow grin that inked its way across Veronica’s face told Betty that the night would be anything but innocent.
…..
It was the shrill screaming that startled Betty as she buckled up the latch on the flesh-tones heels she had put on after changing from her stage shoes. Her silk gown was traded in for another dress Veronica had tossed her way, saying it was more suited for Henry’s than the high-necked baby pink dresses or cream dresses Alice usually saw fit to dress her daughter in.
“Veronica,” Betty said accusatory. “What did you do?”
Veronica laughed and looked over at Val, who was also doubled over in a fit of giggles at another round of shrieks permeating the studio. Jumping from her seat, Betty ran, with the girls behind her, and peaked out into the main hall. The guests had left, and to her knowledge, only Ethel had remained behind with Alice, catching up and having a drink with Dilton. It had been what had solidified Betty’s decision to sneak out.
“Elizabeth,” Alice had said staunchly. “You’re not getting any younger and Dilton has a fine friend back home who needs to marry as well. I intend to speak with him about a meeting, chaperoned of course, later tonight.”
Since her family had thinned, Betty had allowed Alice to control many things- her clothes, her career, and even her extracurriculars. But this she knew she wouldn’t concede to. Now she couldn’t help but stifle a laugh and hope her mother’s conversation was interrupted as she watched Ethel and Alice climb up on chairs as dozens of green lizards ran across the dance floor.
“Don’t worry, ladies,” Dilton said, her picky and over-dramatically. “I’ll take care of the green beasts.”
He promptly pulled out a pocket knife and tossed it at the floor, attempting to shieh-kabob the critter. Ethel passed out at once, falling onto the table sending silverware and glasses clanging all over.
“C’mon,” Veronica whispered, her eyes aglow with mischief. “This is our chance. Let’s go wild while Alice flips her lid in there.”
Shimmying out a back window, the girls made their way to the back alley where Reggie, Archie, Jughead, and a few other friends of theirs were waiting.
“Our Dilton came through!” Reggie clapped, already throwing his arm over Val’s shoulder. “He would do anything I asked just to get in our good graces.”
“Hilarious,” Melody giggled, sliding under Reggie’s other arm as Veronica cuddled up to Archie.
Betty wasn’t as forward as the others. For the most part, she avoided looking directly at Jughead, or any of them for that matter, and studied the brick wall of the building next door instead. She was still worried that Alice had followed her. There was nothing that exhilarated Betty more than the idea of getting out from under her mother’s thumb, but her extreme guilt, no doubt instilled by her mother, prevented her from rebelling too much. In the span of a few years, Alice had lost everything- her son, her daughter, and her husband. Betty knew she was compensating for this, and dearly, by adhering to her mother’s every whim. She hated it, but she didn’t really see a way out.
“Earth to Betty!” Val giggled. “We’re going to grab a table and then dance. C’mon!”
With another glance over her shoulder, Betty followed her friends into Henry’s. They tossed down their belongings and at once were swept into a dancing frenzy by the boys, Veronica with Archie, Val with Reggie, and Melody with their other friend, Chuck. Betty found herself standing next to Jughead, hands folded over one another, patiently waiting for him to escort her to the dance floor as well.
“That Archie is a real Ducky Shincracker!” Betty complimented, watching him and Veronica tear up the floor. “Those two are just cooking with helium!”
Jughead’s blasé hum of a response was not what Betty had been hoping for. She knew her flirtation skills were rusty, but she didn’t think she was that bad of a conversationalist.
“They’re quite good together, the way they seem to flow. I’m happy they met and-”
“Listen, Betty, is it? You seem like a lamb so I’m gonna level with you. Archie falls fast and hard and he doesn't need some charity girl using her wiles to mislead him, see? He’s an honest man.”
Betty’s eyes narrowed as she jutted out her hip, pinching her lips tightly in anger. “Oh, and I supposed because Ronnie is a dancer at a club and not in Hollywood you presume her to be… immoral? Or looking for a life on Archie’s dime? And if that’s so, what makes her a… a harlot and me a lamb?”
Jughead just shrugged helplessly, uncomfortable and also a bit excited about the turnabout of the conversation. He hadn’t expected Betty to turn the tables quite so fast.
“I mean…” he stammered. “She can’t keep her mitts off him.”
“And if I’m not mistaken,“ Betty teased indignantly. “His mitts seem to be climbing awfully high up her waist too. And what of me?”
Jughead gulped as he finally locked eyes with hers again, for the first time since her opening song at the club. He was just as stricken now as he was then. Her soft, timeless features appealed to him in a way he didn’t quite understand or welcome. His tongue felt dry and his heart beat profoundly. He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful, that her pegs were the most gorgeous he’d ever seen, and that he could get lost in her eyes for days. But he wouldn’t. He couldn't. Jughead Jones didn’t need a dame. He didn’t need anyone.
“You seem like drip,” Jughead said, choosing to insult her instead and feeling his heart clench as Betty stepped back as if he’d slapped her.
To her credit, she recuperated quickly, offering a slow, winsome smile and a shrug of her shoulders. “And you, Forsythe Jones, are nothing like what I expected.”
With a shift of her heel, Betty swiveled and made her way out to the dance floor, deciding that dancing on her own would be more pleasant than another minute with Jughead Jones.
“B!” Veronica giggled as she pulled Betty into an embrace, momentarily removing herself from Archie’s grasp. ”Dance with us!”
Betty giggled as Veronica spun her around and Archie clapped at their childish mirth, offering one of his hands to each of them to twirl them both. Hot and parched, they retired to the bar after another song to grab a drink and take a rest.
“Chug-a-lug,” Reggie cried, gulping down his beer before dragging Val away again.
“Where’s Jug?” Archie asked, only now realizing his friend had gone AWOL.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Betty sighed. “I hate to tell you this, Archie Andrews, but your friend is a cold fish.”
Archie couldn’t help but laugh, tossing his head back in apparent good humor. “He can be. He can. But he’s actually a great guy. He takes some time to warm up to people, especially when he thinks they might hurt me…or him. Jughead’s life has been kept from the papers, but it hasn’t been an easy one.”
Betty frowned. On one hand, she felt for him. She knew hardship, as did so many people in these troubling times. But that wasn’t an excuse to be an ass.
“Yes, well, we all have our stories, Archie. It doesn’t give any of us a pass to be rude.”
Before Archie could reply, Veronica chimed in, clearly bubbling over with excitement and nerves.
“Betty, Archie and Jughead have a car. They’ll be traveling up north to their hometown in New York.”
Betty’s head tilted, unsure if Veronica were changing the topic so that Betty wouldn’t offend Archie’s friend, or if there was more to the story.
“How lovely,” Betty said sweetly. “I’ve always wanted to travel there. My- someone I used to know- is there and I’d love to… reconnect.”
“Come with us,” Veronica said quickly, her eyes pleading as Betty’s own widened in shock and confusion.
“Us?” Betty repeated. “V…”
“I’m going with them, Betty. Up to The Dale. They have a new night show opening at the Lodge and Kevin said we can get work there… start fresh. Come with us.”
Betty was in shock as Veronica knocked the wind from her sails. She felt as if her heart were in a vice, being squeezed terribly. “ Everyone leaves ,” she mused silently.
“Veronica…” Betty tried not to look sad with the expression of hope and wonderment on her best friend’s face, but she couldn’t keep her bottom lip from quivering.
Betty mumbled, her bottom lip quivering as Veronica nodded in understanding, her eyes now misting over. “I understand, B,” Veronica sniffled. “Alice needs-”
“Alice!” Archie gasped, looking up at the stern older blonde now standing over the table with a look of sheer menacing terror on her face.
“Mom!”
“Elizabeth,” Alice said coldly. “I had thought more of you. I expected this from Veronica tonight, her morals loose with her mother lost so young and her father gone, but you…”
“Hey now!” Archie interjected as Jughead slowly approached the table, noting the commotion from across the room.
“And you, Archibald,” Alice seethed. “Living up to the Hollywood reputation I see. Now, come along Betty, before you do something you can’t take back and ruin yourself for Adam.”
“Adam?” Betty asked, recoiling as Alice reached out and grabbed her forearm.
“Dilton’s friend,” Alice explained. “You’ll meet him in a week’s time and I believe marriage will follow suit shortly after.”
Veronica’s jaw dropped as Betty’s eyebrows squared in outrage.
“Marriage! I don’t even know him!” Betty shouted.
“Enough of this,” Alice spat, tugging her again forcefully. “Let’s go, Elizabeth. This is not open for discussion. Now.”
The bomb Alice had dropped left a shockwave similar to what Archie felt in war. No one spoke as they all digested what was going on. Betty’s eyes watered, but her face hardened as she nodded at her mother.
“Can I say goodbye at least?” she asked, glancing over at Alice who folded her arms across her chest.
“You have one minute,” Alice replied, cold. “Not a second more. I’ll be out front. I choose not to linger in establishments such as these.”
“…says the woman who runs an Atlantic City nightclub.” Jughead mumbled under his breath.
The moment Betty lost sight of Alice, Betty turned, flinging her arms around Veronica’s neck in desperation.
“B!” Veronica cried. “We won’t let her marry you off. Everything will be fine! We can-”
“The alley,” Betty gasped out, her voice raspy as she breathed rapidly. “My things will be in the alley, under our window. I’ll climb out when I hear your knock”
“Betty?” Veronica questioned, pulling back as Betty used her thumb to wipe away Veronica’s tears.
Though her stomach was in knots and her limbs were trembling, Betty was more sure than ever of what she had to do. She had spent years living for everyone but herself, filling a hole in Alice Cooper’s fantasy world. Not anymore.
“I’m coming with you, V,” Betty smiled. “I’m going to New York.”