White.

With swiftness she entered the building still managing to mess up her hair and makeup from the rain, but she still performed, a darling mess on Kenneth’s stage. “I’m sorry for arriving late everyone, it won’t happen again. I wanted to bring something new to the room tonight, though, I’ll be singing a song I wrote.” She nervously laughed with the crowd before smiling, Robert’s eyes were glued to her as he motioned towards the phone, but Lizzie had already known of the call from her controlling father and for once only wanted to focus on pleasing her audience.

She nodded back to Robert and turned around to the pianist, saxophonist, and trombonist quickly telling them of the song they had already rehearsed and they nodded, readily. All knowing of Lizzie’s struggles and hoping dearly to change them by giving her voice a platform. After the intro had been played, Lizzie’s voice filled the room, nonchalantly reaching pitches never before heard by a woman like so. Her voice had been characterized as “masculine” “angelic” and even “ambidextrous,” from the tones that she carried.

Even with several different words characterizing her voice, she still managed to keep everyone in the room's attention. They clung to Anne like a moth to a flame, wanting to stray but drawn in from natural instinct.(Anne was her chosen stage name.) Anne was loved by many and liked by everyone, everyone wanted to be Anne’s interest, and after her performance you could guess how many people wanted Anne even more.

“Anne!” A strange man called from the back of the room as Lizzie descended the stage. He had been wearing a cool blue suit and a fedora which matched. Her eyebrow raised as she looked over to the strange man, he wasn’t one of her regulars which she had seen every Tuesday but probably a friend of her father’s, which she would likely decline anything from. “Could I take you out for an evening?” He asked, nearing Lizzie now.

“That depends. Who are you?” She asked, heading towards the bar which Robert worked on the nights she worked and every other day of the week. The taller stranger followed behind, answering hesitantly to the question, “Joseph, Joseph White. I’m coming back from Germany so I’m sure you don’t recognize me.” He reasoned, holding a seat out for Lizzie, which she politely accepted. He sat beside her as Robert took an order from other seated customers.

“Well I’m from Stockbridge, too, Mr. White.” She smiled, her attention rarely being given to Joseph as she waited for Robert’s presence. “Look, I know you don’t know me, Misses, but I can’t help but be drawn to you. And my guts never wrong, so let me take you out for an evening, after that, then you can ignore me.” He suggested to Lizzie, his eyes not leaving the back of her head as he spoke, finally being met with her eyes after saying that.

“Who's your father?” She asked, only now paying attention to the suit he wore and the shoes that went along with it. He had respectfully sat his hat in front of him and kept his attention averted to Lizzie. His eyebrows furrowing at the question as he quickly recovered from it, “J.J White.” He answered. Lizzie thought of the name and any link it could be to her father before realizing - his father was the wealthy owner of a movie production company. The J.J White.

“Who’s your old man, Anne?” He asked, twiddling with the ends of his hat out of habit as he looked at the lining of her red coated lips. “Carter Smith, I’m hoping you don’t know him.” She smiled quickly before frowning at the thought of him.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you don’t know who my father is.”

“Well I will.”

“Says who?”

“My gut.” He smiled cheekily.

Robert finally made his way down to the two as he nodded his head at them before speaking, “Your father called, Lizzie.” He informed her. “I agreed with what he said about rehearsals, but what’s that about?” He raised an eyebrow, bussing the counter before sitting a cup in front of Lizzie. “Anything I say to Robert isn’t to be spoken of elsewhere, Joseph,” She told the young man before continuing. “I’m tired of listening to the noises they make, I’d rather spend more time here whether that’s getting a buzz or just stickin’ around for a little longer.” She sighed, leaning against the counter.

He nodded in agreement, both knowing that Kenneth’s was better than Lizzie’s home life. “Dubonnet cocktail coming up, what’ll you have, glitterati?” Robert asked Joseph whose attention was still on Lizzie. “Water, thank you.” He grinned at the younger man. Joseph had actually been well over Lizzie’s age of twenty-three at the age of twenty-seven. He was a sober soldier since he had once struggled with the legal poison.

Lizzie’s eyes were now more invested in Joseph. “Water, huh?” She said under her breath to him. He chuckled at the comment. “I don’t need any more poison after that war.” He smiled at the woman whose attention he finally gained. “About that date. . . I’ll be free this weekend.” She added in, watching the corners of his lips rise even more.

“Don’t like drinkers?”

“Not exactly.”

“But you drink.”

“Subtlety.”

“Oh, subtlety.” He chuckled.

“Yes, subtlety. I wouldn’t mind if you did either, but it’s not something I’m attracted to.”

“Neither am I.”

“Then why are you here, Mr.White?”

“Because of my gut.”

Robert brought the finished drink to Lizzie, winking at Joseph before catering back to other customers. Lizzie sipped some of the drink before continuing to speak to Mr.White.

“Your gut tells you a lot?”

“Only significant things about beautiful women. No, of course it does.”

“Like what?”

“Like the start of the war but anyone could’ve predicted that.”

“Not wrong.” She shrugged. “Could you tell me the time?”

“Eleven seventeen.”

She sighed deeply, looking over to Joseph before pointing a familiar finger in Robert’s direction. “I have to go, Joseph. Do you have any paper?” She asked, looking inside her coat for some but coming out only with a pen. “Of course.” He quickly replied, handing her a notepad he had begun carrying around since his arrival back home.

She etched her address and home number on the paper in the calligraphy she owned. Pecking Joseph’s cheek after giving him a brief hug. “I’ll be over at five.” He told her, watching as she quickly gathered her stuff and left him in the dim bar.