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alcohol isn't good for pretty ladies • jay park (aomg) PART ONE😚

Theme: Jay Park was the mafia boss during the Roaring 20's when the prohibition started. The setting is New York city in a speakeasy bar just inside of the core of the big apple.

**Organized crime only just started become huge because of the US government banning alcohol. Throughout the country, policemen were spread out looking for citizens of America breaking this newfound law. I, being only nineteen, was no exception to this law.

Before the prohibition, I could drink as much alcohol as I pleased without being told no, but after I was shamed for it. It was no different for a year or two after the decade marking of 1920, but then the speakeasies came. The speakeasies gave me something to be happy about.

Having never been happy when I was younger, I turned to partying and drinking to, hopefully and eventually, take my mind off of my shitty childhood. It was one particular night of partying and drinking at a local speakeasy when I met him. A mafia boss that was intimidating and witty with his words. Intelligent and courage in the face of danger. And, of course, handsome and beautiful with his killer looks.

Boss Park was the handsomest fellow that I had ever encountered in those dreadful years of hiding. He didn't like the prohibition but it's what made him most of his money at the time. He might not have approved of the government taking over, but he sure did approve of me that fascinating night of partying until I was told to stop. That time I actually listened.

•••

August 1922, New York

It was midnight, and you were drunk off your ass already. The soundproof walls underground withheld the loud music from filling the already loud streets of New York. You danced until you dropped, quite literally, into someone's arms. They held you tight and wouldn't release even as you started to kick away. They dragged you away from the packed dance floor into the back room where you assumed the alcohol was stored. Being terrified out of your mind, you kicked and jostled in the foreign men's arms. It was so eerie to see such a situation happen in front of you, but screaming wouldn't help you so you made none.

It seemed like hours before the men pushed you into a dim-lit room. The room was mysterious and you could feel a presence in front of you. There was a silhouette of a man sitting in a comfortable chair with his legs crossed and a cigar hanging out of his mouth. A cup of, what looked like, whiskey in his right hand as he brought his left to remove the cigar, blowing a large cloud of smoke out of his mouth and nose.

"Hello," you said slurring together your words. You stumbled forward but stopped immediately when his hand shot up, cigar still between his fingers, and signaled you to. "I'm sorry."

He placed his drink down on the little table that was situated next his chair. The liquid moved with the vibration of the glass slamming against the table, causing a little to spill on the wood. The man payed no mind to that, only focusing on you in front of him. You gulped anxiously as you watched him approach slowly. Not knowing what to do, you stood still and waited for his move.

"You seem to be here all the time." He doesn't sound angry or impatient in anyway; in fact, he sounds a little happy at his observation. He has a little smirk across his features as he gets closer and adjusts his silk tie so it's center. The freshly cleaned suit looks amazing on him and you are unsure of his occupation looking at him at this moment. Perhaps a businessman, you immediately conclud. "You drink alcohol too much, Miss..."

His words drift off as he waits for you to finish his sentence, but you don't and he huffs out a sigh. "That's your cue to tell me you name."

"Oh," you laugh a little awkwardly, but nevertheless, tell the man in front of you your name. "Miss [Y/L/N]. [Y/F/N] [Y/L/N]."

"Well, Ms. [Y/N]. Alcohol is not good for a pretty lady such as yourself. You are a grown woman, but I'm looking out for your health, beautiful." Him calling you beautiful doesn't just send tingles up your spine. It also makes you blush extremely obvious without a hint of remorse.

"I know, Mister..." Now, it was your turn to trail off. Unlike you though, Mister Park tells you his name quickly. Jay Park. "I know, Mr. Park, but alcohol makes me feel better. It makes life feel better."

Jay looks into your eyes, and you almost forget where you are because of his pretty eyes. Men brought you back here, and you're curious as to why. You ask him and he sighs—a sort of embarrassed sound from his facial expression and a red hue on his cheeks. His hand that isn't hold the cigar goes up to rub the back of his neck while the cigar is put back in his mouth. His tone of voice is rather cool, but his body language speaks anxiety.

"It's just, well, you are always here in this speakeasy. I was curious about you. Your dancing skills are much hard to come by, and you seem to always clean my bar dry. I thought I must meet this lady that I'm making the most money off of."

It's weird having someone you never knew before tell you about anything you've been doing. Almost like a stalker has been gather intel on my movements for weeks, withhold the creepy part because it's a handsome fellow.

"It's not me."

"What's not you?"

"The most money you're making off of is the men who buy me drinks, not me."

That statement seems to break all the tension in the room rather fast. Jay starts laughing, heartily and big, and the beautiful sound fills the room, making alcohol sound a little less fun than being here with him. You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and giggle along because it was quite funny.

Once his laugh dies down, he takes a step closer to you. You gulp at the close proximity and instantly sober up. His words make you feel some type of way but you stay quiet.

"I'll send for a taxi and send you home. Can't have anything happening when you're not sober, now can we?"

Allowing Mr. Park to send for that taxi and you getting in it was probably the stupidest thing you could have done. Stupidity at its finest because the man was beautiful, and you were in trouble a few minutes later. How was this supposed to go?