Agent Jones- Book One

| Chapter Ten |

1941

I was so glad to be moving to the opposite end of the country because I couldn't stand these stupid parties. People were everywhere, the dress I was forced to wear was itchy, these shoes were killing my feet, and my parents expected me to socialize. I only had to be here for two whole hours, but it was all terrible. I wasn't much of an introvert, but this was not my crowd of people. They were all old and rich pricks who looked down on everyone except the hosts.

My brother, William, was already off to war so I couldn't even talk to him. We're close- well, as close as siblings get really. He never liked these parties either, but was much better at talking to other people than I was. It was usually him and I walking around the room together, and he would do all the talking while I stood and smiled at them as they said I'd become such a beautiful woman.

The last time that happened was one year ago at a party my parents threw with the excuse that it was for William before he would be deployed. The stupid boy volunteered himself, and anytime I questioned him he'd just say the same thing. "I've lived a lovely life of luxury, and the least I can do is go out there and serve instead of those poor boys who have to provide for their families." With a reason like that it was hard for me to believe he was the child of Frederick and Georgina Jones.

He was off fighting the war somewhere, while I had to sit and pretend to care about whatever this old lady next to me was rambling about. Yes, I'd much rather be out there fighting, which is why I signed up to join the Strategic Scientific Reserve in Miami, Florida. There's a branch in New York City, just a few minutes away from this home, but I want to get away. The best part: my parents don't know exactly what I'm doing. I plan on telling them exactly what's going on when I board the plane out of here. All they know is that I'm leaving for some place and it has to do with my future. That future could mean a job or a husband, so I left it open for interpretation.

The thought alone made me smirk and intrigue the woman who was still rambling on. "What's that look for, dear?" she asked in her wobbly voice.

I looked over at her and shook my head, changing my smirk to a small smile. "Oh nothing. If you don't mind, I'm going to go get a drink." As I stood up, I heard the woman say something about my age. I was old enough, I figured, and she didn't have to worry about me.

The lavish bar wasn't very crowded, making it easy for me to get to the bartender quickly and get a drink started. "French 75 please," I told him, taking a dollar from my navy, satin clutch and sticking it in the glass jar on the counter. The bartender nodded his thanks and got to making my drink.

As I waited, I turned around and looked at the crowd of people. The ballroom was many stories tall, but it was just one giant room. My parents had gone with a unique design, having the outer edges be half a story taller than the circular dance floor. Most of the crowd went to the dance floor to mingle and only started to dance if a very famous dance song came on. From where I was at the bar, I was able to see everyone out there, mingling and laughing and acting like there was no war to be worrying about.

My dear older brother was out there, risking his life for all of these pretentious people, and they acted like it was the 20s all over again. I hated this.

"Miss," the bartender said, and I turned around to give him smile and grab my drink. So what I was only 20, I was having a cocktail to get me through the rest of this hour god damnit.

Taking a large sip, I walked back over to the tables I was previous hiding by. The old woman had since moved on from where I had been, so now I could go back to my spot and not have to deal with anymore people. Well, until the next person came along and tried to lure me into conversation with words like "you've grown so much since I last saw you" and "why don't you have a ring on that finger yet."