Part 8 (1/2)

But then she was in Hankas arms. Head caught her effortlessly.

He smiled as he looked at her. aSee? That wasnat so bad.a She couldnat help ita”she burst into laughter. aNot so bad? I couldave broken my neck! And I ruined my dress.a He inspected the damage as he sat her on the ground. Half the hem of the dress had ripped off, exposing the bottom of her white slip. The torn fabric hung limp against her calf.

Hank picked up the frayed edge. As he reached for it, his fingers grazed her lega”they were so warm, warmer than shead expected, and yet they made her s.h.i.+ver with antic.i.p.ation. It had been so long since a man had touched her. Since anyone had touched her, really. Even her mother hadnat hugged her when shead left town.

Hank toyed for a moment with the fabric he held, then dropped it, instead of ripping it further and ravis.h.i.+ng Lorraine against a tree as shead hoped. His thin but delicious lips formed a playful grin. aI think it looks better this way. Youall start a new fas.h.i.+on trend for sure.a He handed over her purse.

Lorraine was sad about the dress, but a few moments in Hankas arms had made it seem less important. aItas just a dress, right?a she said, and hoped he didnat hear the quaver in her voice.

She had been to Central Park on visits to New York with her parents, but shead never seen the park like this. Now that they were over the fence, she could see the moonlight s.h.i.+ning off the lagoon. From here it was easy to see the starry sky, framed by the bushy tree branches along the water. She stared up in wonder. aSo pretty,a she whispered.

aThis way,a Hank said, already heading off to the old wooden boathouse. There they ran into another padlock, on the two front doors. Hank began rummaging around in his trouser pockets. aDonat worry, I can take care of this.a aSure you can, Houdini.a Lorraine swatted mosquitoes away from her bare arms.

Hank turned away, and she heard clicking noises. A few moments later, the padlock opened and he dropped it to the ground.

Lorraine stared at the piece of metal in his hand. aWhy were you carrying that lock pick?a He tipped his hat. aWhy? In case a beautiful young lady needs help breaking into a boathouse for some late-night rowing.a Lorraine loved it when a man came prepared. And had he just called her beautiful? This was swiftly becoming the best date she had ever been on, and the date hadnat even technically started yet!

Hank dragged open the double doors, which creaked like a dying cat in the silent night.

He bowed his head and gestured to the open doorway. aAfter you.a Lorraine couldnat see much in the inky dark of the boathouse, though her eyes adjusted quickly to the light peeking in through the slatted wooden walls. Flimsy-looking rowboats rested in the water. Everything smelled like mildew. No wonder shead never come for a boat ride. This was disgusting.

Hank tugged a rope and the doors onto the lagoon swung open. He plucked two oars off the wall and hopped inside one of the boats. As he untied it from its moorings, he said, aYou going to stand there all night? Or are you coming along?a He held out his hand, and Lorraine took it. His hand was bigger and harder than hers, as it should be, and she loved the feeling of her palm against his. Once she was seated, he took an oar in each hand, dropped the shafts into the oarlocks, and rowed them out onto the lagoon.

He rowed hard for a bit and then stopped. The chorus of creaks that accompanied his rowing vanished as he let the boat drift, and all Lorraine could hear were crickets chirping and the gentle lapping of the water.

Lorraine realized her cheeks were sore from grinning. It was beautiful out here, and cool. And a tranquila”that was the word. As late night bled into early morning and the sky lightened overhead, she felt something she hadnat felt in ages. Peace. Contentment. It was all very strange.

Hank had left his blazer by the fence, and in the growing light she could see his muscles bulge under his thin chambray s.h.i.+rt. How had he gotten into such terrific shape? Lorraine had never seen a bartender who looked anything but unhealthy. She wondered whether the booze bottles were any heavier out in Los Angeles.

aWhat are you thinking about?a Hank asked, breaking the silence.

Lorraine laughed awkwardly. aOh, just how beautiful it is out here.a She leaned forward a little. aIave never done anything like this before.a aNo? Manager of a speakeasya”I wouldave thought this would be a tame night for you.a aTame would be a good word to describe my other nights,a she replied. Then she realized how boring that made her sound. aNot that I donat do anything, of course. Just, you know, I donat usually steal boats a at five in the morning. But I should more often, because itas fun, really fun.a Oh G.o.d, she sounded like a halfwit. Here she was feeling more a like a regular person, and she suddenly couldnat talk. What was wrong with her?

She pulled her flask out of her purse and screwed off the top. Liquid courage was exactly what she needed. Before taking a sip, she offered the flask to Hank. aToast to a successful caper?a Hank shook his head. aNo thanks. I try not to take my work home with me.a Lorraine laughed again. aMe neither!a she lied, leaning over the edge of the boat to pour the contents of her flask into the water. She tried not to grimace at the waste of good gin. aThere,a she said once it was all gone. aSome little fis.h.i.+es are gonna have a party!a Hank gave a brief chuckle. aToo bad you donat have any lime to toss their way.a Lorraineas eyes brightened. aLime, did you say?a She reached into her purse and pulled out half a lime she had wrapped up to take home with her.

Hankas jaw dropped. aDo you always keep lime in your purse?a Lorraine shrugged and tipped an invisible hat. Then she squeezed the lime into the water. aOf course! In case a beautiful young man breaks into a boathouse for some late-night rowing, and then I offer him a drink but he refuses, and so I pour my liquor into the water.a Hank gave her a look that was difficult to describe, but she was sure the gist of it was: Iam impressed by you, Lorraine.

aTouch,a he said. aYouare a wonder.a Which was such a nice thing to hear that she just giggled in response.

aSo tell me about yourself, Lorraine. When did you move to New York?a She thought for a moment. It felt like a lifetime, but in trutha”aItas been about a month or so.a aYouare almost as new here as I am!a His face sobered. aSo you got the job at the speakeasy pretty quickly, huh?a Technically, shead had the job long before she arrived in New York. aYep.a aYou know, youare way too young and beautiful to be running a second-rate gin joint like the Opera House. A sophisticated dame like you should be in college, or getting married, or having a swell time somewhere, not working in one of those seedy places.a The compliments were just too many and too perfecta”it was too much fun, as if head been reading Lorraineas diary. aBeautiful,a asophisticated,a aadmired by everyoneaa”well, he still might say that last one.

Instead, he asked, aHow did you get this job?a which wasnat any fun at all.

aOh, I just kind of stumbled on it. I needed to do something with myself before I start college this fall at Barnard.a aYou said youare from Chicago?a She nodded. aI lived there my whole life. Went to a fancy bluenose schoola”such a stuffy old yawna”and did the whole debutante thing.a She reached over the edge of the boat to skim her fingers through the water. aThis one girl at school and I were best friends. But she literally stabbed me in the back.a His eyes widened. aLiterally?a aWell, not literally,a she said. aFiguratively.a Hank relaxed. aWhat did she do?a aShe was supposed to marry this pompous blue blood. But she started sneaking out to speakeasies, got a gig as a singer, and had an affair with a black piano player. When her fianc found out, he showed up and humiliated her and ran her out of the club. It was awful.a aThat sounds rough.a aThe worst part was that she blamed me. Gloria a.s.sumed I was the one who told Bastian.a Lorraine stopped talking when she realized shead been using Gloriaas name. She was under strict orders from Carlito not to talk about Gloria, ever. Nor, for that matter, Bastian. Nor the Green Mill. But she was pretty sure Hank didnat counta”what harm could he do to Carlito? He was just a bartender.

Hank reached out to touch her arm. An electric thrill ran up her spine. aThat must have really hurt,a he said. aThat she could believe youad do that to her after years of friends.h.i.+p.a Lorraine exhaled slowly, hoping he wouldnat take his hand away. aIt did.a aWhat happened to Gloria?a Lorraine knew she shouldnat say anything more. But it felt so nice that a man was finally showing some interest in her, not as a plaything, but as a person. When was the last time a man had done that?

So she just went for broke. Suddenly she was telling him about Gloriaas engagement party, how she had drunkenly exposed Clara.

Hankas eyes were melancholy by the time she finished. aOh, Lorraine,a he said softly. aIam so sorry you had to go through all that.a How long had she been talking? She had no idea. The sun was already rising, and the sky had begun shading into a deep and luminous blue. Finally, after years of her being ignored, someone cared what Lorraine had to say. Take that, Marcus Eastman!

It was time to make a move. On an impulse, she stood and rubbed her arms. aBrrr! Itas so chilly! Why donat I sit over there next to you?a She began to move to his end of the boat.

aNo, sit back down!a he barked, alarm on his face. aYouall capsize thea”a As he spoke, the boat wobbled. Lorraine windmilled her arms, trying to regain her balance, but it was no use. She fell, sensing as the water closed above her that Hank was going over, too.

The water was colda”shockingly colda”and it ran up Lorraineas nose and into her mouth and tasted like a million unclean things that were all moldy and sitting in the bottom of a fish tank. Hank grabbed her arm underwater, and they both swam to the surface. In the cool air, they coughed and sputtered, and Hank said, aWell!a And then they were laughing.

For a moment, all they could do was cackle hysterically, out of breath and trying to keep afloat. Lorraine wiped water out of her eyes. If there had been any hope of saving her dress before, there certainly wasnat now.

aYou are one wild girl,a Hank said. His hair was matted to his foreheada”Lorraine wanted to lean forward and push it back.

aGracefulness was never really one of my strongest traits,a she replied.

Hank swam to the capsized boat. aHelp me flip it back over,a he said.

Lorraine joined him, and they both pushed as hard as they could, but the boat only moved away from them.

Lorraine paddled around to the other side. aMaybe weall have better luck over here!a aNah, this thing is never turning back over,a Hank said. aI say we just get under it and swim it back to the boathouse upside down.a Lorraine nodded and ducked underwater, then resurfaced inside the sh.e.l.l of the overturned boat. With the sun rising, just enough light streamed in through the water of the lagoon that they could vaguely make one another out. But under the boat it was still quite dark, and almost quieta”she was reminded of what it felt like to hold a sh.e.l.l up to your ear so you could hear the ocean. Only, in this case, all she heard was her own breathing, and Hankas, and the lapping of the water.

Lorraine felt herself blush, and was grateful for the darkness. Surely whatever lipstick and rouge had survived her s.h.i.+ft at the Opera House had washed off long ago. Her hair hung in limp ropes.

aYou know, I thought you were pretty before, but wow a youare really beautiful. No makeup or fancy headdressa”youare just who you are.a Hank smiled. aWhy would you ever want to hide that?a Lorraine was mortified as she realized that tears were br.i.m.m.i.n.g in the corners of her eyes. She had always a.s.sumed that insults were the only way a man knew how to communicate his feelings. But here Hank was, being completely honest and sweet.

Hank swam closer. aYouare not supposed to cry,a he said.

Lorraine had kissed plenty of boys before, but when Hank touched his lips to hers, something about it felt brand-new.

CLARA.

Clara concentrated on slathering b.u.t.ter onto her roll.

aWhoever this writer is, he is eeeeeevil,a Leelee muttered, settling a cloth napkin over her ivory day dress.

Light streamed in through the nearby window, giving Leeleeas dark bob golden-brown highlights. Chez Jacques, a cozy but chic French bistro on Spring Street, was always packed. The dark-blue-papered walls and jazz playing softly on the Gramophone even in the middle of the day gave the bistro an authentic Parisian atmosphere.

aOh?a Clara said, leaning over to get a better look at the magazine spread out on the pale blue tablecloth. Leelee wasnat the only one in their lunch party with the most recent issue of the Manhattanite. Actually, Coco, Julia, and Nellie were all reading the second aGlittering Foolsa column.

Everyone but Clara.

aHow can they get away with printing trash like this?a Coco exclaimed.

aIsnat it true?a Clara asked.

Coco scowled. aThat doesnat mean someone should write about it!a Clara had to admit it: She was proud to be a part of the Manhattanite. The magazine was glossy and smart, and everyone in town was reading it. But even though she was dying to tell them that she was writing for the magazine, she knew better: It was more important than ever to keep her secret, especially now that people were reading and discussinga”and outraged bya”her columns.

Leeleeas plump pink lips turned downward. aHe says Edie Burrowsas feathered headdress was so enormous that heas asurprised it didnat jump off her head and fly through an open window.a I thought Edie looked adorable.a aShe looked like a crazy person, Lee,a Coco said. The other girls giggled in agreement. aThatas one thing the reporter got right. And no way is this writer a man.a aIt says Anonymous,a Leelee replied, pouting. aHow do you know itas a woman?a aA man wouldnat have such an eye for fas.h.i.+on. And a man could never be so vicious,a Nellie said, tucking her curly light-brown hair behind her ear. aThis is one cold, calculating b.i.t.c.h.a Nellie Abrams had been one of Claraas favorite old New York friendsa”shead always been willing to say what everyone else was thinking. Nellie wasnat bone-thin like the rest of the girls at the table. She had plentiful curves, which she showed off with the scooped neck of her ruffled peach blouse and a short skirt. Though she wasnat glamorous like Coco or a beauty like Leelee, she had a charisma that was undeniable.

Julia Spence squeezed lemon juice into her gla.s.s of water. aMaxieas going to be sore over the way she made fun of him.a At Maxie Gabelas eighteenth birthday party (had it only been two weeks ago?), Clara had given Arthur Spence her phone number. The next day, his older sister, Julia, had called up, eager to reminisce. Clara had always adored the exquisitely pretty redhead.

aI donat even know how the writer saw that!a Coco said. aIt was hilarious!a aSaw what?a Clara asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.