“Yo. Dollface.” No. No, that wasn’t for Zoe. She convinced herself it wasn’t, sipped her coffee and tried to look nonchalant as she read through the café menu in front of her. “Renette!” Zoe’s blue eyes shot towards he man who was calling out to her. He was tall, thin, black hair slicked back to his collar and an unlit cigarette hanging halfway out of his mouth. A devilish grin spread over his face when she saw him, and he strode over to her table with all the confidence of a man who just signed a helluva contract, “Good mornin’ Miss Renette. I’m Lorenzo Mantovani, your new love God for the next couple o’ months. Pleasure to meet ya’.” Zoe’s arm shot up and yanked the man into the seat in front of her, quiet panic setting in as she tried to avoid the looks from people nearby, “Would you shut up? Look, I don’t need this and I don’t need you, okay? The sooner Golden Coast realizes that the better. Now will you please, please try to be discreet in the mean time?” Gabriel chuckled and leaned into his chair, stretching out his long legs in front of him and crossing his ankles. He grabbed a lighter out of his suit pocket and flicked it back and forth a few times, “See, I don’t think that’s gonna happen, babe. That’s not what we’re getting’ paid for. We’re getting’ paid to make a scene.” “We?” Zoe asked. Gabe lit his cigarette, “Well, ‘paid’ is a loose term, really. I mean I guess it works but the point is –“ “Wait – what do you mean we? Are there more of you?” Zoe snapped in a whisper. Gabe paused and looked at her, smirking again. He was rather enjoying how flustered she was getting. The way her blonde curls were spilling over her table, how desperately she was trying to hide their conversation behind a propped up menu and the angry confusion in her bright blue eyes – yeah. This was gonna be a piece of cake. He could already see a few of the waiters glancing over at them from the corner of the patio. “Maybe. They did say you’d have to be a real bad girl,” he winked at her. Zoe gasped and jumped onto her feet, “No. NO. NONONO. I’m not doing this – You’re NOT doing this to me! I wont- I’m a respectable girl, Mr. Mantovani and I won’t have you and your friends – UGH! If Golden Coast expects me to- UGH!” The young woman stormed away from the table, Gabriel laughing after her, “Yeah – well you won’t be so tight laced when I’m through with you! Trust me on that, dollface! You’re really gonna loosen up!” Around him, the sound of whispering began to grow andpretty young waitresses approached his table, offering to bring him something on the menu while he waited for Zoe to return. Gabriel put his cigarette out in her coffee, and shook his head, “Lady, do you honestly think she’s comin’ back? No. Don’t worry your pretty little head. I don’t need a thing. I’m just givin’ her a head start.“ He stood up from the table and tugged his suit back into place. Part one was finished - public interest raised. It wouldn’t be long before all of New York was whispering about the ‘Sunday morning’ singer Zoe Renette and her unsavory brunch guest. After all, this was 1922. Gossip traveled fast in places like this. Especially when the mob was involved.