Click for some mood music
When he sat down at the lunch counter in the Woolworth, Beth thought he reeked of regret. And she felt sorry for him.
Beth kept staring into her soup, trying not to turn and just working the reflection of the bowl just enough to catch of glimpse of his profile.
He saved her the trouble. "I'm Frank..."
She smiled, still peering into the goodness that was her Cream of Turnip.
"Hi Frank," she answered through her smile.
"I'm new here..." he said cueing her for her name.
She fiddled with her spoon, making rings. "Beth."
Frank turned a bit in his seat and asked. "Say Beth, how 'bout I take a gander at what seems to be a pretty lil' face." Beth perked, straightened her blouse and smiled.
The head waitress, the one who looked like a pioneer with all that Davy Crockett hair, stomped over and raised her eyebrows. "You botherin' her, Mister?"
Frank ignored Davy and lit a Lucky Strike. "Beth, whaddya say we give the place the slip and you let me buy you some ice cream?"
# # #
As they walked down Main Street, USA, Frank knew he made the right choice. Find the prettiest chickadee there -- those are the ones that'll take bullet for you -- because deep down, they're all insecure.
By the end of her deep dish of Vanilla, Frank knew she was that kind of girl. The diamond job was tomorrow and whichever way it played, he knew he needed his alibi and, if anything, someone to wipe up the blood.
Frank asked for the last spoonful and eased it into his mouth. Swallowing, he smiled. He could tell Beth was told she was ugly just one too many times. This one was just right.
Illustrator: Edmund Gray (not much info exists online for this pulp stylist). Music: "Little One" by Fabric - courtesy of the Internet Archive and you can download it HERE.