# Crystal Central presents
Melanie Fenway had never been a fan of winter and she made this point clear with the black leather jacket and red, knee-length, flair sleeveless dress she wore. Although it was February 22 and winter was almost over, it was still cold in Allston. The ground was still covered in snow and her black leather boots looked menacing as she stomped on it making her way home, her hands tucked in her armpits. Her shoulder length queue was blonde; her skin had a healthy and uniform tan; the irises of her eyes were blue and she had a line of freckles sprinkled across her nose ridge- made to beautifully stand out on her skin due to the chilly atmosphere.
Also, Melanie was a young lady who lived with her heart on her sleeve and mostly indulged in her impulses, a pure contrast to Valentine and her rational brother.
At this moment, her face was morphing between displeasure, anger, worry and guilt. She suddenly stopped under a street lamp, her gaze raised at the sky towards Boston Downtown. As the snowflakes fell on her she thought back to Douglas and Valentine. Valentine, weirdly, loved winter simply because the nights were longer and the sun shone less. She was strange in this way. She didn't like the sun and coupled with her character, they had thought she was a vampire when they were young. As for Douglas, her twin brother, he claimed the cold took the pain away.
He was lying and she knew it. How could she miss the increase in frequency of Dag's stifled groans from his room on the colder nights? This brought her to tears at night but come morning she would hide behind that folly smile of hers so as not to worry them more. Though she may seem naive and carefree, she had always known that Valentine and her brother kept things from her, just like how tonight she learnt that the two didn't work as servers at Albatross Diner but were supposedly involved with a gang. In respect to this she might have brought trouble for the two who already had enough on their plate.
For a few moments Melanie spied Boston stream past her: the falling snow flakes; the occasional twinkling stars behind the heavy clouds; then at the sparsely populated streets of lively Allston now that holiday seasons were over and the second constitutional prohibition on alcohol. Then the clocks started to strike twenty-three. Melanie wrangled with her guilt and stepped onward as she recalled the events at the club tonight.
In Boston, where the grass is as green as Garnett's jersey gets, everyone wants a piece of it. The gangs are no exception to this and the prohibition on booze won't get in the way, the speakeasies ¹ a clear indication. Booze is the new gold and as a matter of course bootlegging has been added to their long list of vices. They have it all - The dough, the booze, the drunkards and the local PD - in their pockets.
Melanie worked as a singer in one of these gold mines, a hot underground club known as Timber and Toast. The time was just right, in the early hours of the night so it never clashed with nor affected her studies. But more than that she was the one to open the stage for the night as she had a great voice. She loved the place; the vintage decor; the dim lights; the bottle shelves as high as the ceiling; the strong smell of homemade booze; the cigarette smoke that chocked the room; the bright lights on the stage; the drunkards when they sang along; the drunkards who fought when the alcohol got a bit too much; the clanking of the billiard balls; the sweet sound of jazz. All of it. Timber and Toast club ranked up there with South Boston on St Patrick's day and Fenway park.
As it was, today Melanie clocked in at 6:30 pm, an hour before she took to the stage. This was her usual time and when the club started getting crowded she walked up to the podium after some idle chat with the other girls at the bar. Today she was singing a number of her jazz favorites; Bessie Smith's 'Me and my gin' followed by Frank Sinatra's 'Fly me to the moon' among others and the drunks sung along. The night was going as per routine until it didn't.
At the near end of her time on stage, a quarter past eight, two men walked down from upstairs and the boss of the place, Larry, walked up to them immediately they walked into the basement from his usual seat at the back end of the room.
Boss Larry's action prompted a number of heads to turn towards the new arrivals. From her higher position on the stage, Melanie obviously noticed the duo too. Coincidentally, when she looked over she found the younger man looking at her as as she sung her lungs out.
The young man was a hard one to miss. He was six feet tall, with black hair lapping over his collar, a princely almost imperious face and donned in a black Italian wool three piece suit and coat. He was accompanied by a six foot four inch bodyguard with a bulging neck, a bald head and a sloping forehead dressed in casual clothes mostly grey and black.
When the song ended the man clapped along with the cheering drunks before he turned towards the standby Larry who shook his hand and led him to where he had been sitting. Larry immediately signaled the other two men who had been sitting with him to make room and poured the princely guy a glass of whiskey before they proceeded to talk, with the bodyguard standing a few steps behind the young man.
Melanie walked down the stage after her full fourty five minutes of singing. On Fridays and Saturdays bars closed at 4 am, and with a free day tommorow, Sunday, she could stay a bit longer at the club. She walked to where four girls were chatting alongside the bartender, Freddy, as he wiped the glasses and beer mugs and throwing occasional glances at where Boss Larry sat with his guest.
When she arrived there the girl named Clair fastly asked, "you know that fine gentleman sitting with Boss Larry Mel?"
"No, why, I'm I supposed to?"Mel asked, confused why Clair would even ask her this.
"Well from how he looked at you we figured you might know each other and Charming Freddy here says that he's a hot shot in Boston."
At this time Freddy asked "You want a glass Mel?, this one is on me."
"No, you know I don't drink, especially not these bathtub gin."
"Your loss, I'll take you up on the offer Freddy" the African American girl two seats from clair said.
"You're next on stage Maya, it won't be good if you have too much to drink before that. Let's talk about it later." As Maya grumbled Freddy went to serve a customer a glass of keg.
Freddy Valdez was a Latina guy at 5ft 9 inches. His skin was a light olive colour typical of the people of Mexico; his hair was dark brown and cut short; the irises of his eyes were deep brown ;he wore a black apron, brown checked outdoors shirt, blue jeans and black leather boots.
After he finished serving the patron he came back when Melanie turned from the girls and asked.
"What's up with that guy Freddy, you didn't tell us and it feels intentional."
For a while Freddy stayed silent as he regarded Melanie and the girls, then he said, practically whispering, " It is intentional. Here in Boston the less you know the better, and I prefer to seal my trap myself than have it done for me. Ever heard of The Sinclair Mob, that's the underboss and he's not as nice as he looks. That's all I'll tell you and it will be best if you keep it to yourself. You can ask your brother and Val the rest."
Hearing the words of the bartender, the girls stopped looking in the young man's direction and minding their own business. As much as the public found their notoriety exciting, they were also aware of the mobsters' ruthlessness.
It was around ten o'clock. Melanie had had enough fun and was ready to go home. It was at this time that one of boss Larry's men came to her and said, "Hey Melanie, Boss Sinclair asks to see you."
1.Speakeasies:secret bars that police officers had a hard time locating due to the fact that people spoke quietly while inside.