For aspiring singer Ivy Hart, all that should be on her mind is to get a well paying job to help support her struggling and ailing family. But when she stumbles across a speakeasy in need of a new waitress, she crosses paths with a sarcastic yet wil...
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The moment my feet stepped into 'The Hollywood Lounge,' it was like no other.
This place had it all.
Green and gold stylish velvet walls and trinkets everywhere, the most darling finishes I'd ever seen, sparkling chandeliers dangled from the shiny and intricate golden ceilings, marbled floors all around, and a dance floor—which was surprisingly not being used.
The undertone music that was blasting through the joint over the loud conversations and groups having fun within themselves eating and drinking together, it didn't seem to matter to them. But to me...it was simply divine.
However that woman was kinda right.
It surprisingly ain't as hoppin' as the other secret bars I'd been to in my life. Since the prohibition took place nonetheless, any secret bar was better than none.
Trying my hardest to take my eyes off everything with each new detail that came to light, from the lengthy golden clock stage I longed to get up on even for a second, and the grand cherry wood piano on the side of it—I was becoming more amazed by it all. From the instruments that were also on the stage in front of the green velvet curtains, but all piled near each other and barely even touched from the looks of it, someone then called out.
"Uh excuse me, miss?" The familiar voice who was talking to the woman spoke.
Turning around to see who it was after all, there he was behind the fully stocked bar. But god...did I do a mental portrait of what he'd look like in my head all wrong.
It was a young man. But his alluring appearance was simply mesmerizing.
Ivory toned. Beautifully well built. Eyes painted a dark hazel color that were almost shining from the lights above him, and his soft and bouncy jet black locks he kept ruffling through from side to side with his fingers, just made me more hypnotized. His uniform was classic and clean for his profession. A white striped button down shirt, a black velvet vest, arm garters, a sleek necktie, and a white apron to top it all off.
Oh yes. According to those ladies, he was definitely the bartender they were crushing over.
He was writing something too on a few papyrus paper, as he leaned against the counter with no one at the bar at this time—a pen in his hand. It was clear he was very engrossed on it whatever it was. Yet from here, I couldn't quite make out what it was just yet.
Though my thoughts drifted away when I heard his rather angelic voice again.
"If ya start drooling over the carpet too once ya sit around our private booth areas, it's gonna cost ya. It's imported from Italy."
Well his voice was captivating, but apparently his mouth is another story.
"Uh of course! I'm sorry sir. I-I-I just popped in, once I saw that you're possibly hiring. I read the signage up in your shop out there."
