Ok, here we go...
A large man stood guard outside the single doorway, about halfway down the muddy alley. She itched to hear the sounds of jazz and dance the night away with members of the flaming youth. She had saved up for three weeks to blow it all here and now. Finally she could afford to have some fun.
"Hey, babe," the heavy man grunted from his spot, partly cloaked in shadow and evidently holding up the building.
"You the Bruno of this scatter?"
He grinned. A few spaces interrupted a nearly perfect smile. "I'm the Bruno if you can prove you're a hoofer."
"Yeah, I can dance. What do I look like, some bindle punk?"
"No way, doll. And you don't look like no bluenose to me neither."
She snorted, though considering the way he was eying her, she did feel a bit prudish. The fringe of her skirt's hem tickled across her knees.
"So, you got some cabbage for me?" He chuckled.
She was already swaying to the faint strains of jazz music pushing through the door. She shifted anxiously from foot to foot. "I've got cabbage if they've got corn inside." She pulled out a few bills and handed them over.
"Corn aplenty inside," he assured, tucking the money into his coat and knocking five brief raps on the door. The door opened and he gestured for her to move along.
Ginger stepped inside, the music racing over her like the chills. She pulled off her coat and headed straight for the bar. "Bourbon neat," she ordered.
A young man at the bar turned and looked her up and down. "Nice gams," he complemented.
She twisted one ankle around the other and forced a smile. The bourbon would surely help her loosen up, she thought.
"Corn for the dame," the bartender exclaimed, exchanging the glass for more of Ginger's hard-won money.
The man beside her was trying for her attention again. "Like a gasper?" he asked, pulling out his cigarettes.
Ginger pounded back the bourbon and looked at him with wary eyes. She shrugged, letting the alcohol warm her all the way down. "Sure, mac." She tapped it against the back of her hand and rested it between her made-up lips.
He pulled out a lighter and lit the cigarette for her and one for himself.
Ginger thought her night would go just swell now that she was here and making friends, but there was still something odd about the young man paying her so much attention. She had never been to a place like this before. She knew no one at the bar or on the dance floor. She couldn't help but think maybe she was in over her head.
Ok, I didn't know many of the terms (slang) from this era, so I found this cool site and probably got a little heavy-handed with them, but hey! It got me writing... :-)
Hope you enjoyed it!
PS--Please fill out the poll on interesting cities (pretty far down the page).