King of Brooklyn

I walk into the beauty parlor near closing time. It’s five in the evening and it’s mainly empty. Most of the housewives are home cooking dinner for their husbands and children. There are a few younger girls here, gossiping and giggling about some guy. Didn’t catch the name, then again I honestly don’t care. I stopped doing childish things, like gossiping, years ago. Too busy with work for gossip I suppose.

“Frankie, doll!” Margaret greets me with arms wide open. I smile at the older woman before giving her a hug and a kiss on my cheeks. “You still have time for the small people?”

“I always have time for you Maggie,” I reply, smiling bigger than before. “I can only trust my hair with one person.” Margaret smiles hugging me tighter before letting out and pulling away,

“It’s good to see you Frankie,” she says, “I’ve really missed you. You’ve been so busy with work, I hardly see you. And I’m suppose to be your best friend.”

“You are,” I say going over to couches she has the parlor. “I’ve been getting gigs left at right, I hardly have time to think myself.”

“I’m so proud of you darling,” her smile is sincere as is the look in her eyes. “You’ve come a long way from that 18 year old that stumbled in here at 18 looking for a job to help her survive before her singing career took off.”

“You’ve been a big help,” I tell her, “I’d be lost without you, probably married to some geezer back in Ohio that my father owed money to.”

“Couldn’t let that happen, could we?” She laughs but it’s drowned out by the other girls and their giggling.

“What are the hen clucking about over there?” I ask, nodding my head towards the group of girls.

“Some boy,” Maggie shrugs, “I believe his name is Bucky Barnes. I never heard of him.”

“I’ve heard of him, he's a pistol,” I tell her, “he’ll make a pass at any girl with a pulse. He’s nothing but a wolf from what I heard.”

“I see you’re not the only one with the reputation,” Maggie smirks, “it also sounds like you’ve heard a lot about him. Have you met him?”

“No, I’ve only overheard things about him,” I reply, “I’ve heard enough to know he’s no one to fool around with.”

“You of all people should know that rumors aren’t always true.” Maggie sighs, “if they were you’d be married over 100 times.”

“There are rumors and there are facts,” I tell her, “the facts are Bucky Barnes has bedded countless women in the Brooklyn area alone. He’s a jerk, he’s not someone to trust.”

“You can’t always trust the word on the street, Doll, it’s not always true…”

James Barnes

“Steve!” I yell as I walk into my best friend’s apartment; barely knocking before I enter. “Steve where are you!?” I search for him as I hold two tickets to Paradise Island, the place where Frances Dallas is performing tonight.

“What are you yelling about?” My friend asks as he walks into the living room, his shirt and pants too big and wrinkled. This tells me he just got up.

“I got two tickets to Paradise Island tonight,” I tell him, “Frances Dallas is performing.”

“The girl you’ve been carrying a torch for?” He questions, “how the in the world did you manage to nab those tickets. Her performances sell out quickly.”

“Don’t question how I got them, just get dressed.” I order him, “we’re gonna have fun tonight. No funny business, no double dates; just friends.”

“Yeah because you don’t want a dame to know she’s second best to Frances Dallas,” Steve chuckles before going back to his room; hopefully to change.

To say I’m excited to finally see Frances Dallas in person would be an understatement. The reputation that follows her is what draws me to her. She’s untouchable. She’s got the heart of stone and doesn’t believe in love. Any man sees that as a challenge. I’m no different. Frances Dallas is the ultimate challenge and the ultimate prize. She’s a heartbreaker. She’s the Queen of Pain.