alternativewriting | (no subject)

Entry tags:

alec,
meyer

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It was quiet. The bar wasn't quite yet open. It had another hour or so. So, Alec was setting up the bar for when it did open, making sure the stock that was there actually had something in the bottles, there were clean glasses... sweeping. Things like that. The black eye really turned out nicely. Black make up couldn't have done any better.

The rest of him was feeling only a little bit better than the eye looked, which was not much at all.

This is possibly why he jumps when the door opens.

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He hadn't meant to startle anyone by showing up before the bar opened, but in truth, he'd figured the only person there would be Sally, since she seemed to practically live at the bar. He could relate to that, although he wasn't sure he'd want to spend the majority of his time in a bar in a swamp.

It's not Sally that he sees when he walks in, though, and the guy sweeping up the floor doesn't strike him as familiar. That's why he's immediately on his guard, although, as always, he's extremely polite. Soft-spoken, even.

"Pardon the intrusion, but I was looking for Ms. Wheet."

He, clearly, had heeded Sally's warning not to call her Miss, or at least intuited it.

Alec would rather not spend all his time in a bar in a swamp, but circumstances, right?

He blinks rapidly at the newcomer. It's so strange to hear someone not talk like they're from around the swamps it confuses him for a moment. "Oh. Um. I'm sorry. She's not here right now. She had to run out and get something."

"Hmm."

He'd really been hoping to get ahold of her sooner rather than later, but he's not about to let the frustration show on his face. She'll come back relatively soon, he's sure, and for the time being...

"I hope you don't mind if I wait for her."

He'd probably take a seat at one of the tables anyway, but it can never hurt to announce his intent.

And Alec isn't really the sort to tell him to go away. If the guy has business with Sally then Alec isn't going to make him leave. And if he doesn't have business with Sally, when Sally returns she'll just shoot him.

"No. I don't mind. Feel free to take a seat... but on that side, please." He points to the left. "I haven't finished cleaning the other side."

"All right."

He sits down on the side Alec indicates, and considers him quietly for a moment while lighting a cigarette. He's still not fond of how hot and humid it is here, and he's just itching to take off his jacket, but he'd prefer not to look underdressed for his business.

"Did she give any indication as to when she might return?"

"No, I'm sorry. It sounded like an emergency though," he says. "May I get you something in the meantime?"

Alec understands about the whole underdressed thing. He's still distressed that he hasn't been able to fix his coat just yet. No time and he doesn't know how to sew his own clothes.

"Coffee, if you don't mind."

It's a little early in the day to be drinking, after all, although nobody ever seems to follow that rule quite as strictly as he does, and maybe he should relax and have a drink or two, if Sally's going to be awhile. He hasn't done business with her one on one yet, they've always been in meetings together, and he's not quite sure what to expect. Maybe he can get some information out of this fellow.

"I imagine she keeps extremely busy, running a place like this."

"Sure." Alec is a coffee fiend. He will drink mountain loads of it. It's amazing he's not jittering from the all the caffeine.

The cup is poured as he thinks about the man's question, trying to figure out how to answer it properly.

"She does. But she's very good at it."

"I imagine so. She strikes me as a very adept businesswoman."

And he doesn't just say that for flattery's sake -- not that the flattery would do any good, since Sally isn't here to hear it, but nevertheless -- he really thinks she is. After all, she'd been able to deal with several men that even he didn't much like spending time around. That alone was worthy of praise.

"I don't think I've seen you here before. You must be a new employee."

"She keeps this place running."

He smiles a bit, almost shyly. It's sort of silly.

"I started little over a month ago," Alec says, bringing over the coffee. He's also got some milk and sugar too for the man.

"Thank you," he says, in response to the coffee, and immediately dumps several spoonfuls of sugar into it, stirring it as he nods at Alec's comment.

"I see. This is the first time I've been here in the last month, so I suppose it stands to reason I wouldn't recognize you. Name's Meyer Lansky, by the way."

Sally may have mentioned him. She may not. She can be notoriously close-mouthed about her business dealings.

Currently Alec is just that wet behind the ears idiot rich kid trying to make it in the swamp hired hand so no, he hasn't heard of the guy. He hasn't worked up the ladder that much.

"I'm Alec," he says, declining to give his last name. He's decided it's probably safer that way. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise."

Even with his easy smile, he's currently trying to assess just where Alec might be from. He doesn't have the distinctive Floridian accent, nor does he sound like a New Yorker. Even Atlantic City would be a stretch, though it's possible. No, he's guessing a little further north, which leaves him one clear optin.

"You from Boston, originally?"

Not South Boston, obviously. His accent isn't rough enough for that, and his name isn't recognizeable as one of the Irish mobsters that run that part of the city. He's guessing middle class, maybe upper class, and he's curious as hell as to what Alec's doing down here in the swamp.

Alec really isn't an Irish name. Alexander perhaps, but he's not calling himself Alexander and for all Meyer knows that's his given name.

"Yes." This he admits to readily. Alec's accent is very clearly Bostonian and that's not something he can hide. He's trying to learn the accent around here, but it's really different than how he's used to speaking. "Originally."

He grabs the broom and starts sweeping up the other side of the bar.

"Interesting place to end up."

For a native Bostonian, at least. He can't see that the swamp would hold much appeal. Then again, maybe that's just him projecting. Florida isn't his favorite place, to put it mildly -- of course, he hadn't liked Boston a whole lot when he'd visited, either.

"I was getting sick of the snow. This seemed to be as far away from the snow as possible. Within my means to reach."

Because there's certainly not snow out in the West, it's just harder to get to. It's also an easy standard lie to give. Almost believable.

"Fair enough. You'll just have to deal with the heat, instead."

Not that it doesn't get hot in Boston, just as it does in New York, but Florida seems to have its own special kind of heat. He sees no reason not to believe Alec's answer, either. While working for Sally isn't necessarily a glamorous job, he's never seen this guy before in his life, so has no preconceived notions about him.

"It has been rather sticky, but at least I don't have to worry about frostbite."

Boston can get rather humid too, so that's not so bad.

"The random rainstorms have been more bothersome than anything."

"I can't say I care for it here much."

That might be a product of the kind of business he has to do here, too. That makes any place less palatable. He looks towards the door again, as though expecting Sally to walk through at any moment.

"Not much for the humidity? Where are you from, if I may ask?"

Alec notices the look and wishes he could do something about that.

"New York, which has its own kind of humidity, but nothing like this. Not to mention considerably less alligators."

The only alligators he's actually seen here have been the ones he'd seen fighting, the first night he'd been in Florida, but he has the distinct sense that more are lurking somewhere.

"I've heard stories about alligators in the sewers up there."

Alec's seen a few of them in the swamps at a distance and the ones fighting. He'd rather keep away from them.

"As far as I know, the alligators in the sewer stories are just that: stories. Here, on the other hand, I could easily believe they have alligators in the sewers. And just about anywhere else."

At least he can get a decent cup of coffee and a decent drink, but you wouldn't catch him living here. Not in a million years.

(At this, his writer teehees knowingly, because irony)

"I could too. However I try not to think about that." Alec's room is not on the first floor for such reasons.

Decent coffee is highly important. Alec doesn't know what he'd do without decent coffee.

"Well, I highly doubt they're going to come inside."

At least, he hopes not. When alligators learn to open doors, the world is doomed.