Part 10 (1/2)

aThat would be great,a Hank said. aThough maybe we should buy our own bottle. Wouldnat want to get my girl into any more trouble.a He picked up his crate. aNow, where should I put this?a His face was calm and impa.s.sive, as if he hadnat just called Lorraine his girl. Had she imagined it? No, no, she definitely hadnat. Hank had called her his girl! As in his girlfriend! She broke into a smile that felt too big for her face. It was a smile a million Puccinis couldnat steal from her.

aLorraine?a Hank asked. aInstructions?a Lorraine pointed to the top of a pyramid of crates. aCan you reach up and put it up there?a Effortlessly, Hank lifted the crate high. As he did, the bottom of his jacket rode up, and Lorraineas breath caught at what she saw on his hip: a leather holster, not unlike the one Carlito always wore. And it wasnat empty.

aWhat are you doing with a gun?a she almost shrieked. aYouare not a gangster, are you?a She didnat know whether she could take finding out that the one decent man shead ever met was yet another member of the Mob.

Hank put down the crate and took her in his arms. aNo, Raine, of course not!a He kissed her quickly. aItas for self-protection. I just get nervous, being surrounded by mobsters every day.a He smiled. aBut this joint ainat so bada”aside from selling booze, it seems to be on the up-and-up.a Lorraine almost laughed at his navet. aHardly!a Hank c.o.c.ked his head. aWhat do you mean?a She lowered her voice. aYou know Ernesto Macharelli?a aOf coursea”Al Caponeas right-hand man?a Hank said. aBut heas in Chicago.a aNot entirely. He and his son are bankrolling this joint!a aHuh, Ernesto Macharelli laundering his money in New York City. Now, how does a girl like you have information like that?a Lorraine and Hank stepped apart as Spark walked into the room without knocking. aWe got kind of a problem,a he said.

Lorraine waved him off. aWhat I do with my employees is my business.a Spark snickered. aAw, I donat care about that. I was talking about the singer and the piano player? They ainat exactly getting along. I think one of aem is going to walk.a aWe canat let that happen!a aI was thinking maybe a word from you might help.a aMe?a Lorraine coughed violently. aNo! What they need is a bonus! Go out there and offer them a bonus.a Spark glared. aWhat they need is the fear of G.o.d in aem.a Lorraine pushed Spark toward the door. aDo it.a aWhatever you say,a he answered, backing out of the room.

aWhatas going on?a Hank asked once Spark had left.

aI canat tell you,a Lorraine said, and dropped her gaze. She was wearing nice shoes. Pale-blue heels decorated with beaded flowers that were trimmed with rhinestones. aI mean, Iad like to tell you, but I really canat. I mean, I shouldnat. Unless you really want to know. And then I can tell you, but youave got to give me your mosta”No, I canat.a Hank shrugged. aOkay, thatas fine. Iall go get the rest of the s.h.i.+pment.a aFine!a she said. aYou donat need to twist my arm.a Lorraine told Hank the part of her story she hadnat told him out on the water in Central Park: how Carlito had set her up with the job so that shead trap Gloria and Jerome. aJerome murdered Tonya”probably in cold blooda”and that killing started this whole mess.a Hankas eyes were wide when she finally finished. aLorraine, you need toa”a The door creaked and Spark burst in.

aDonat you know how to knock?a Lorraine yelled. How dare he interrupt such a private moment? aWhy do you think G.o.d invented doors? Or knuckles?a aIam sorry, Raine, but apparently they donat want their bonus, because the girl just ran off in tears.a aWhat? You idiot!a Lorraine screamed. aGo get her right now!a Spark huffed and walked out nowhere near as quickly as he should have. Lorraine stormed out right behind him. What if Spark couldnat catch Gloria? She had promised to deliver both of them to Carlito. And gangsters didnat play around where broken promises were concerned.

She burst into the barroom and plowed straight into someone. aWatch where youarea”a He looked thinner and hungrier than he had back at the Green Mill, and his features were sharper at the edges. He was still beautiful, thougha”at least, beautiful for a black man.

aPardon me,a he said, giving her the polite but uninterested smile people gave to strangers.

Jerome didnat recognize her.

He had only ever seen her at the Green Mill, where she had looked very different. Now, because shead been supervising the booze s.h.i.+pments since the morning, and her s.h.i.+ft would be over before evening, she wasnat really glammed up. Instead of a flashy sequined number, she was dressed in a simple blue Patou day dress.

And, since Hank had made his under-the-rowboat comment about how nice she looked without makeup, she had started wearing less.

She opened her mouth to say something and found herself coughing.

aAre you all right?a Jerome asked. Before she knew it, he had sat her down on a bar stool. aThis lady here is choking!a Hank was suddenly there, striking Lorraine on the back. She coughed violently and leaned into Hank, trying to ignore the skinny, hungry reality of Jerome beside her.

Hank looked up at Jerome. aYou should go. You really donat want to be here right now.a aWhat?a Jerome said.

aIam serious. Get out of here. Now.a aYou donat need to tell a fellow three times,a Jerome muttered, and marched to the stairs.

In despair, Lorraine watched him go. If she told one of the boys to run after him now, there might still be a chance of catching him. But she couldnat get her breath to speak up.

Whenever shead imagined Jerome in her head, shead seen a hardened criminal. A killer with cruel eyes and a scowling mouth. But Jerome didnat look like a coldhearted killer. Not in the way Puccini and Carlito looked like killers. Their eyes were flat and dead. But Jeromea”hungry as he looked, his eyes had the glint of life in them.

Someone handed her a gla.s.s of water.

Bernie, the trumpet player, cleared his throat. aSo, uh, is rehearsal over? We canat do much without a singer or a piano player.a Lorraine nodded vigorously. aYeah, you all should head home. Just practice a lot before Sat.u.r.day. Zuleikaas debut should be the best thing our audience has ever seen, got it?a She took a drink of water so that she wouldnat have to talk anymore.

Puccini strolled out onto the barroom from the office. aRehearsalas over so soon?a aIt is,a Lorraine said, and took another drink of water.

At that moment, a group of men came down the stairs. At the front was Carlito Macharelli, looking debonair in a black pin-striped suit, a fedoraas brim bent over his dark eyes.

aCarlito,a Puccini said. aWasnat expecting you soa”a Carlito raised a hand. aWeall catch up in a minute, Puccini.a He slid over to the bar. aIf it isnat Miss Dyer,a he said, looking her up and down. aDonat you clean up nice in the big city.a aThanks,a Lorraine said, s.h.i.+vering. aYou look nice ta”a aYouare gonna talk to me now, punk, and youare gonna get this idiot girl out of my hair. Sheas makina a mess of my club and Iam sick of it!a Puccini said, loosening his tie.

aCalm down, Puccini,a Carlito said in his usual smooth voice. aIam sorry to saddle you with such a dumb Dora. You have no idea how much my father appreciates this favor. Though I donat think head be so pleased if he knew how your crew botched the Grokowski job last month.a Puccini looked as shead never seen him before: terrified. aI donat see how thatas got anything to do with this,a Puccini said.

aYou wouldnat,a Carlito said, patting his shoulder. aPuccini, please: Just keep her a little longer, eh?a Puccini glared at Lorraine. aAll right. But sheas making her curtain call here, understood? Finito.a As soon as Puccini shut the door of his office behind him, Carlito said, aMay I have a moment, Lorraine?a aSure,a Lorraine said, and he sat down next to her at the bar. aIam guessing you received my telegrams.a Carlito looked surprised. aNo, actually. I was just tired of waiting around and figured Iad drop in to check on you. Whatas the update?a Lorraine smiled. aGloria and Jerome were here together!a aGreat!a Carlito said, rubbing his hands on his thighs. aWhere are they now?a Lorraine let out a nervous laugh. aThatas the thing. They were here, but now theyare a gone.a aGone?a aGone,a Lorraine repeated, nodding.

There was silence for a moment, and then Carlito screamed, aTheyare what?a His arm snapped out and he grabbed Lorraine by the sailor collar of her dress. Behind him, Lorraine saw Hank coming forward, but she flicked a hand at him to leave her alonea”he would only make matters worse.

aYouare telling me that you had the two of them right here and you let them slip away together?a Carlito asked, dragging her close so that their faces were almost touching.

aThey didnat technically leave together,a Spark contributed from behind the bar. aThe singer ran out about twenty minutes ago, and then the black boy left about ten minutes later.a Carlito stared hard at Lorraine. aYou couldnat find an excuse to keep even one of them here?a He pushed her away, and she fell off the stool.

aHey!a Hank said, but Carlito glared at him and he didnat say anything more.

Lorraine tried to get up, but Carlitoas s.h.i.+ny black shoe came down on the hem of her dress. For the first time since head arrived, Carlito was smiling.

aOh, Raine,a he said, fingering the silver pistol at his hip. aWhat am I going to do with you?a CLARA.

It was the afternoon after the party, and Clara was a wreck.

aSo you see, it was all for the magazine,a she said, stirring cream into her third coffee of the day. aIam still the same person, Marcus.a Marcus flipped through the copy of the Manhattanite. It was the issue with the first of her aGlittering Foolsa columns. She had begged him to meet her at Lindyas for lunch so that she could explain why she had lied to him and gone to Twiggy Sampsonas birthday party.

Head reluctantly agreed.

Marcus finally pulled his eyes away from the magazine, but only to look at the large slice of strawberry cheesecake sitting between them. aDonat you want any?a Clara usually adored Lindyas cheesecake, but today her stomach turned at the sight of it. Instead, she reached across the table and put her hand on Marcusas arm. aWhat are you thinking?a Marcus pushed the magazine aside. aI just donat know why you kept this a secret from me.a She traced the edge of her coffee saucer with her spoon. aI didnat think youad approve. I worried that youad think I was falling back into my old life.a aAnd back into Harris Brownas arms?a aMarcus, I told youa”nothing was going on. That was the first time Iad seen Harris since Chicago. I was just saying h.e.l.lo.a aClara,a Marcus began, taking her hand, aI believe you. And I was being honest when I told you I was proud of you and your writing. Itas a courageous thing, putting your work out in the world. I love it that you dare to try. And I love you.a Then his smile faded. He wasnat going to let her off easy. aBut I am worried about the effect of all these parties on you. Why not go to Barnard and get a real education instead of some fly-by-night reporter job, gossiping about a life youave worked so hard to put in your past?a aBut thatas just it, Marcus,a Clara replied. aThat flapper world is the same, but Iam different.a aAre you? You got about two hours of sleep last night. And from the way youave been picking at your food, Iam betting youave got a h.e.l.l of a hangover.a aGuilty as charged.a aAnd isnat there a tiny part of youa”the merest bit, the smallest parta”that is glad youave got the magazine as an excuse to fall back in with your old wild crowd?a aOf course not!a Clara said, but she had hesitateda”only a moment!a”and Marcus noticed.

He glanced down at the magazine. aI thought that when we came to New York, wead a I donat know, have a life together. But sleeping all day, partying all night, saying whatas clever instead of whatas true a Manhattanite or no, there are real consequences to living that way, Clara.a aI know, buta”a aI thought you wanted to be different,a Marcus continued as though she hadnat said anything. aI thought you wanted a better lifea”one that didnat center around boozing and puking and sequined dresses and speakeasies.a He paused. aI thought you wanted a life with me.a aI do,a Clara said emphatically. Marcus was the best thing that had ever happened to hera”head showed her that it was possible to love again after so much heartache.

aNo, you donat. You wouldnat be pulling these kinds of shenanigans if you did. Thatas not how you treat someone you love, Clara. Itas just not.a Clara gazed at the other happy couples, the mothers and fathers and children eating lunch, the waitresses strolling around with soft drinks on round trays, all of them exactly who they appeared to be. But Clara? Who was she?

How ironic: When she had lived her life doing what men expected of her, she had lost herself. And now that she was finally doing something that was entirely her own, she was losing the man she loved.

aCome with me,a she said, almost without thinking. aBe my sidekick.a aThatas not the point,a Marcus said. aI used to like partying, too, but Iave seen the downside. What happened to you, what happened to Gloria and Jerome a to Lorraine. There comes a time when you need to get serious about something.a He sat up straight. aIam serious about school.a Clara narrowed her eyes. aAnd Iam serious about my writing.a aGood,a Marcus replied. aThen study writing at Barnard. Go after something more than twenty column inches about some ditzy flapperas birthday bash. This kind of stuff wonat last.a He lifted the magazine for a moment. aThere are some witty lines in here, Clara. You have real talent. You could do so much more.a aThis is just how Iam getting my start,a Clara answered.

aItas easy to say that now. It wonat be so simple five years down the line when youare an established gossip columnist with editors lining up to pay you for drivel.a He pushed himself up out of the booth. aIf you want to write, write about something that matters. If you want to write trash, then find someone else to love, because I wonat be waiting around.a Maybe they were silly and frivolous, but Clara was proud of her columns. She put a lot of work into them. And people talked about them. They were good. Was it wrong to feel pleased about writing something that people actually enjoyed reading, rather than something they read because they wanted to look smart and sophisticated?

Parker would never say these things to her, Clara found herself thinking. Parker believed in her, in what she was doing. At least that was something.

Marcus laid some bills on the table. aI have to go to this charity gala at Sherryas tonight at eighta”my motheras on the board of the Chicago branch. Iad love for you to be my date, though Iall understand if youave got other plans.a He smoothed his hand over his amber hair, then pulled on his straw trilby. Clara sighed. Her writing was important, but was a society column really more important than Marcus?

She put that decision out of her mind for now. Marcus was offering an olive branch, and she knew she would regret it if she didnat grab it. She forced herself to smile. aIall see you there.a aGood,a Marcus told her. aBecause Iam not only serious about school, Clara. Iam serious about you.a After head left, she let her pretend smile disappear.

This was h.e.l.l.

About the only thing Clara had said all evening was athank youa when complimented on her champagne-colored dress. The flowing skirt came down to her ankles, and the loose sleeves that draped to her elbows were hardly flapperesque. The dress was lovely and safe. All the matrons at the party loved it.

Marcus was in the corner of the room, laughing over an anecdote that could in no way be that funny. Not in a million years.

Between them was an obstacle course of linen-covered dining tables, each with a set of oldsters in tuxedos and ball gowns loudly guffawing and smacking their lips as they ate hors da”uvres and drank lukewarm lemonade.

It was already ten oaclocka”Clara wanted out of there. Shead been hoping to stop by the office to drop off edits on the Twiggy Sampson story. Parker usually stayed at the office until midnighta”he was more of a workhorse than Clara wouldave guessed.

Finally, Marcus caught Claraas eye. He looked beautiful in his tux, clean-shaven, every strand of hair Brilliantined perfectly in place. aHaving fun?a he asked. For the second during which his eyes met hers, this was the most fantastic party shead ever attended.

aSure. I could use actual food, though. What do you say we blow this s.h.i.+ndig and grab a real dinner?a He shook his head and went off to talk to yet another middle-aged society woman.