Thomas and I whipped through crowds, my long black skirts catching my running feet. We passed busy streets teeming with business until slowly we found ourselves on an empty street with dilapidated tenements shoved together like people on a crowded bus. Thomas pulled me quickly into the alcove of the second building on the left. The entry hallway was not lit except by daylight that filtered through a small window above the door. Dust lived in every corner, cracks grew across the walls and ceiling, and the floor looked as if it had never once seen a broom. Thomas proceeded up a creaky staircase with a banister that was so dirty it left my hand slate gray and fuzzy.

We rose through the stories until we reached a precarious floor that must have been at least five floors up. Pulling a key hurriedly from a chain around his neck, Thomas quickly led me into a small room with several cots set up from wall to wall. Thomas barely looked in my direction as he shuffled around the makeshift beds to a door on the opposite side of the room. I think he was embarrassed; he had been a member of the King of England's court when I first met him, and now he was back to living in the poverty of his reality.

He opened the closet door and pulled out a few worn shirts, a threadbare pair of blue trousers, a pale skirt reminiscent of cornflower blue, and two pairs of brown leather ankle boots. "I'm sorry we have to downgrade, but it's all I have," Thomas sheepishly explained, shame illuminating his face with a flush of pink. "I find these court clothes rather cumbersome actually," I said as I reached for my new outfit. Thomas smiled weakly and nodded me towards a sheet strung across a corner where I could change.

As I tugged on my boots, I called to Thomas, "we can sell our Renaissance stuff for money, you know," trying to sound as casual as possible. "You wouldn't want to keep them?" Thomas asked as I returned to the main room, now a woman of the 20th century. "I don't have a need for mine, and you do. Consider it the first of many thanks for saving my life," I couldn't stop tears from welling up in my eyes. "And you saved mine too," Thomas said, finally breaking from his embarrassed flush. He moved around the cots quickly and pulled me close. "I just worry that things are going to get a lot worse than a scaffold," Thomas breathed into my hair. "Well, I think we can handle anything at this point," I teased back. He smiled, "Do you want to see a real party?" he asked playfully. I nodded with excitement.

Rays of pink sunlight poured through the small windows, casting the floor with bright reminders of the end of the day. Thomas grabbed his hat and two coats, and once again we descended the long flights of stairs and reemerged onto the street. The city was beautiful in the fading light as we rushed past the common man on his way home, and socialites emerging in their finest. Prohibition began that day, and no one was going to miss their first sip of the now illegal alcohol.

After about 30 minutes, Thomas and I arrived at a dimly lit alley where garbage cans overflowed with the spoils of the day. A huge metal door sat off to the right side of the alley, and just like in a movie, Thomas rapped on the door alternating between quick staccato and slower legato knocks until a slit in the door slid back and two blazing blue eyes stared out. "Yes?" a drolling basso profundo voice grunted. "We're Louis'," was all Thomas replied. The eyebrows above the blue eyes raised in a 'sorry for your loss' kind of way, and the bolt slid back. The door opened into a vast darkness. Thomas stepped into the seemingly endless darkness, turned and said, "mind the stairs, they're rickety." And we descended.

The smoke hit us about halfway down the stairs, and when the low light finally became visible, smoke curled up and around throughout the room. People from all walks of life filled the room, a cigarette in one hand, a cocktail in the other. Laughter mixed with the cacophony of a loud band shoved into the corner of the underground bar. It was delightfully dazzling, a dream come true.

But like real dreams, this one came to an end. I turned in time to see Thomas disappearing into a dark doorway between two men in black fedoras and pinstripe suits. His panicked eyes roved the room, and upon finding me, he mouthed, "act casual," I think...

I immediately absorbed myself into the crowd, finding my way to the bar where a young rail thin man poured drinks with flair. Each drink was a work of art, and I stood so mesmerized I didn't even hear when he asked for my order. "Shirley Temple," I said as I returned from my stupor. "A what?" he said, his eyebrows knit together in confusion. Dang it! Shirley Temple wouldn't be born for another ten years. "Grenadine and club soda," I said as smoothly as someone in the wrong time period can. He flashed me his charming smile and began to mix. "Not going to celebrate prohibition tonight?" he teased. "I'm actually just here with a friend and just recently I lost him," I said. "Thomas?" he asked, his eyes seemed to lose the sparkle they possessed when we first began speaking. "That's the one," I replied.

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me close and whispered, "It'd be best if you didn't associate yourself with the scum of this place." "What?" I asked, confusion overtaking the fear I felt from being pulled so close. "You're coming with me, I can't let him find you again," he said as he matter-of-factly pulled me around the bar and into a hallway. I looked back at the party scene, and resigned myself to once again being led somewhere I didn't want to go.