Mid- 1920's New York. Flappers, dapper men, gang violence, and the mafia.
The Golden Years as everyone called it.
It was a great time to be alive... peak music and art, cars, and movies. Technology had never been greater.
Just ask Logan El- Amin. An immigrant to the states, he was living his best life in this new world. It was even better when you made thousands a day for killing a man.
Logan was a well-known hitman and gang member. He attended prestigious parties and wore expensive suits, smoked expensive cigars and was a lady's man. He knew his way around a big city like New York City.
He was quite the opposite to another man in the city. Harrison Brooks. He too was an immigrant, but stayed to himself and never really spoke his mind. He wasn't as street smart, but was much more clever.
The two's meeting was a coincidental passing at the train station. Logan's tall stature and hat was hard to miss. He and Harrison were sat next to each other as they waited for the train, Logan's leg bouncing and feet tapping. He watched Harry's hands as they played with the tag of his trench. He was nervous. It made Logan smile. When he stood, of course the taller man had to follow.
"You seem eager to leave. That's a bit disappointing," he remarked as Harry stopped by a brick wall.
He was only able to meet his eye for a few seconds. "I had to catch my train. Nothing personal," he stammered.
Logan put his arm to Harry's side, smirk on his face. "You should at least try to get to know me. That's the least you could have done."
"Why does it matter?"
"You're intriguing. Like nothing I've seen before."
Harry looked lost. He just tried to get past, which caused Logan to block his way. "What's your name, Doll? I don't remember hearing it," he said in a deep mutter.
He swallowed, "Harrison."
"Harrison. That's beautiful." He grinned a toothy grin, fixing Harry's bow tie to get closer to him.
"Who are you?"
"Logan El- Amin. I would think you would know me."
"Doesn't ring a bell." He ducked under Logan's arm, going back to the main station. The other man only followed.
"You must be new then. Let me fill you in."
He took Harry to his train. He completely disregarded his own ticket for his own agenda and snuck on with the boy, sitting him in an empty car toward the back. It was quiet- all they could hear were the muffled, hurried voices of the businessmen and their ladies outside. Logan took off his hat to cordially introduce himself. "I'm well known around here. Known well enough to be feared, but not feared enough to not be respected. You know what the mafia is, correct?"
"I'm foreign, not stupid."
Logan laughed dryly. "You're cute, aren't you? You get the hint. You're pushing my buttons too much... I respect that."
"You're giving me mixed signals," Harry stated. He wasn't having it.
"Be my partner."
"We just met."
"And I like you. You're smart... smarter than I. You could be vital to some things I'm trying to do. Imagine it... riches, respect. Be my lady, if you will."
Harry gave him a dead stare. "Get out of my face."
"Say yes and you'll never have to pay for anything in your life again. I'll do it for you, all you need to do is help me on the low, and look pretty, which I already know you can do," Logan said cooly, pulling a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it. He took Harry's chin between his thumb and forefinger and blew the smoke in his face, causing the boy to recoil.
"Do you not know what no means?"
"I don't."
Harry ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "Then yes. Fine, okay."
Logan stood, smile invading his face. "Wonderful choice. Glad you made up your mind."
damn i have decent ideas and then i CANT write them WELL
