Vice (H.S)

CHAPTER 1 - DEAR CAPTAIN

CALIFORNIA, 1958

I'll never get used to it. The flash of the bulbs, the crack, the bright light as my photo is captured onto film. Aside from the blinding light, it's a strange surge of satisfaction. They're choosing me. I'm worthy of their affection, worthy of having their cameras pointed towards my poised shoulders, my polished image. But still, it feels foreign each time.

Beside me, Peggy flirts with the cameramen before tugging me along the red carpet. She and I could be twins tonight, floating down the carpet in matching pale blue and violet chiffon gowns, bedecked in diamonds as always. The occasion is fitting for such opulence — a movie premier.

Somehow Peggy convinced me that this would be a fun idea. She secured the tickets from her beau; he works in production. We'll be watching from my father's box at the theatre which means champagne and privacy — no need to make polite small talk with the girls from cotillion and easy avoidance of stout, powdery, leery old men.

Dear Captain isn't typically my sort of film. It's a war flick, explosions and shouty men in uniforms. Although, I can hardly object to a man in uniform. Peggy hasn't stopped talking about the gorgeous new star featured in the movie and if he's truly as handsome as she makes him seem, I suppose it won't be such a waste to sit and stare for a few hours.

Finding our seats, we settle with a glass of something expensive. Peggy digs through her small purse in search of her hand-rolled cigarettes, flagging down an usher to give her a light.

The long velvet curtains pull back against the screen and the room dims, the audience buzzing with laughter and excitement as the opening credits begin with a bang.

* * *

Already bored, my eyes begin to search the audience. Rows and rows of tuxedos and taffeta make my head spin and my vision blur. The large crystal chandelier overhead catches wisps of the picture from the projector, sending splinters of light in every corner of the room. The chandelier was a gift from my father, his donation to the theatre. In return they gifted him this box, available to him anytime he chooses to call in the favor.

The point of a theatre box is the view, the best seats in the house. But I've always loved it for spying. It's easy to pick out the back row sleepers, the flask-sneakers. Small red flames illuminate the faces of all the smokers, bright cigarette cherries speckling throughout the theatre as smoke drifts up the rafters.

Following the trail of smoke up through the balcony, my eyes focus on one face in particular. With a turn of his chin, his eyes catch mine and I know I am caught. But I cannot look away.

His bright eyes, sweeping dark curls... it's so familiar. I am startled to realize it is the man in the film, the young soldier, the handsome actor Peggy is so smitten with. But for the life of me, I cannot remember his name.

I quickly look away, feigning boredom once more. But as I slowly turn towards his spot in the crowd, again I am found. I can feel his gaze like a weight on my shoulders, iron and steel.

He looks away and I freely watch from afar; I can make out the strong slope of his nose, the broad width of his postured shoulders. He is deliriously handsome. When he turns to me again, I am enraptured. He offers a knowing smile, giving me a studied gaze in return.

I've found my true entertainment for the evening.

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I hope Vice becomes your new favorite fanfic! Comment below your other faves, I need some recommendations!

Thank you to everyone who has been reading so far! Your votes and comments mean everything to me. I can't wait for you to see where the story is headed! My update schedule is Monday, Wednesday, and Friday but sometimes I'll just upload a chapter here and there for fun.