Part 12 (2/2)

At the blue-lettered sign for Saundersa Furniture, she turned down a narrow alley, following Leeleeas directions to the Opera House, and quickly found the large steel door under the bare bulb.

The wall was plastered with old posters pasted one atop another, but the newest one caught Claraas eye: a stylized portrait of a beautiful woman with a flaming red bob and green eyes, standing next to a piano. It advertised the upcoming debut of athe scorching singer hot enough to make the Devil himself blusha: Zuleika Rose.

When Maude Cortineau had slurred that Gloria had a gig at the Opera House, Clara had a.s.sumed Gloria was working as a waitress. But noa”she was headlining under a made-up name. The girl had gumption!

Marcus would never forgive Clara if she wrote this story, but she wasnat here for either Parker or Marcus. She was here to warn Gloria about Carlito. If, in the process, she figured out an angle on Gloriaas story, all the better.

She rapped hard on the door.

aSorry, toots, we ainat open yet,a a boy said, poking his head out. His expression softened as he looked Clara up and down. aI mean, what can I do for you?a She gave him her full-wattage smile. aIam Clara Knowles, a reporter for the Manhattanite. Iave heard youare opening a fantastic new show here and I was hoping to do a story on it.a The boyas eyes flicked from the press pa.s.s to her legs. aI ainat used to newshounds beina pretty little Janes. The band doesnat rehea.r.s.e today, though. Show debuts tomorrow night.a Clara pushed herself through the doorway. aThatas finea”Iad much rather get a feel for the place before reporting on the band. Maybe talk to the manager?a aOkay,a the boy said. aFollow me.a It wasnat long before Clara was sitting at one of the Opera Houseas round tables, sipping seltzer. The speakeasy was more or less deserted this early in the day but was one of the grandest shead ever seen. A very good-looking bartender had come out through a door near the bar to pour her seltzer, but then head left the way head come. The only other person in the place was a grumbling old man pus.h.i.+ng a broom over the hardwood floor.

The place looked plush and had a red-tinted den-of-sin theme. Even though they were in a huge bas.e.m.e.nt, it didnat feel like ita”the ceilings were high and dark and the stage looked as elaborate as at any theater on Broadway. This would have been a good gig for Gloria, if only Carlito hadnat been behind it.

Clara needed to get information out of Sparka”an odd-looking man with wispy brown hair, wearing a boater and a red-and-white-striped vest, whoad introduced himself as the person running the club. aSo, have you been open long?a she asked.

Spark shrugged. aWe just changed the name to something sw.a.n.kier. Weave been around for a while.a He thought for a moment. aBut how about you just say in your article that weare new?a aOf course,a Clara said with a girlish smile. aWheread you find this Zuleikaaa”she glanced down at her notepada”aRose, is it?a aThe way you find most of aem. We put out an ad. She auditioned.a aYouare not worried about running a no-name singer when places like the Cotton Club and Connieas have got big stars like Bessie Smith and Nora Bayes?a aNaw. I picked Zuleika out myself,a he said, puffing out his skinny chest. aThat girlie can wail. No shame in beina the one to discover a first-rate torch.a aYou hired Zuleika?a aYes indeedy.a aSo youare the top dog around here?a Spark sat up a little straighter in his chair. aYou could say that.a The man with the broom sputtered a laugh. a aCept youad be lying,a he muttered under his breath.

aYou close your head, Rod,a Spark warned.

aWait, so youare not the manager?a Clara asked, looking from Spark to Rod.

aI most definitely ama”a Spark began, his neck turning red.

aHe doesnat make any decisions,a Rod continued in his gravelly voice. aMiss High-and-Mighty does. Or did, up until a few days ago.a A woman manager at a speakeasy? Clara certainly hadnat been expecting that. aCould I maybe have a word with her?a At just that moment, the door next to the bar swung open. A tall girl with a dark bob walked out, her large hazel eyes glued to a clipboard. Her profile was severe but not in an unattractive waya”she reminded Clara a little of Coco. The girl had a coltish figure that suited her white smocked dress perfectly.

Spark stood up, visibly annoyed. aHey, boss, this lady here from the Manhattanite wants to know the rumble on Zuleika and her band. Iad answer her questions myself, but I got some important work I gotta go finish.a The girl glanced at Spark as he pa.s.sed. aIf youare talking about the crossword puzzle, good luck coming up with an exotic bird that starts with Z.a This woman was the boss? As Clara took in the girlas features, she felt the blood draining from her face.

Lorraine Dyer.

The clutchingly desperate girl shead left back in Chicago.

The girl who was madly in love with Marcus Eastman.

The girl whoad tried to ruin Clara by exposing her to the world.

Clara gripped her pencil so tightly that it snapped in two.

Minus the racc.o.o.nlike makeup and the frantically grasping manner, Lorraine looked spiffier than Clara had ever seen her. Almost a woman. A moment ago, Clara had thought Lorraine seemed gracefula”elegant, even. But Clara couldnat forget that voice. Or that birdlike head darting forward on the thin neck. How was Lorraine a part of this? Could it be a coincidence that Lorraine was somehow managing the club where Gloria was singing?

Lorraine sidled up to the table. aHi, nice to meet you,a she said, jotting something on her clipboard. She didnat bother to look at Clara. aOf course the new show is going to be spectacular. Zuleika Rose is the catas pajamas, the catas meow, the catas paw and tail and whiskers anda”Oh, sheas the catas everything, really.a aLorraine,a Clara said.

Lorraine glanced up briefly but showed no sign of recognition. aIave never met Zuleika personally,a she went on. aOf course, very few have. Sheas like a night owl. Or just a regular owl, I suppose. But anyhow, Iave heard her sing and she doesnat hoot. She yodels like a real canary, let me tell youa”a Clara stood and said, aLorraine!a Lorraineas eyes got so big that Clara could see the whites all the way around her dark irises. Gone was the confident speakeasy managera”Lorraine was the insecure prep school outsider all over again.

aClara?a Lorraine asked in a gasp. aClara Knowles?a aIn the flesh.a aOh G.o.d, oh G.o.d.a Lorraine fanned herself and panted so heavily that Clara worried she would swoon.

Clara put her hand on Lorraineas arm. aIs there somewhere more private we could talk?a Lorraine stared at her in silence, then said, aYeah, yeah, uha”follow me.a Spark chose that moment to return. aWaita”you two know each other? How?a aOh, go blow a horn,a Lorraine said rudely, motioning for Clara to follow her.

aJust remember, Thoras comina back from his afternoon poker game soon!a Spark called after the girls as they pa.s.sed behind the bar and into a cramped, empty office. Lorraine closed the door behind them.

aClara, what are you doing here? Donat you know that this place is run by mobsters? Itas dangerous!a aI could ask you the same question,a Clara said, plopping down in the chair in front of the desk. aDoes Gloria know youare the manager here?a Lorraine bit her bottom lip. aNo.a aWhat kind of game are you playing?a Clara asked, raising her voice just slightly. aDid you know that Carlito owns this club? This isnat another one of your catty pranks, Lorraine. This is the Mob. Gloriaas in real danger.a aYou think I donat know all that?a Lorraine wailed, her voice rising to a shriek. aWho are you to come barging in here, telling me what to do? This is my club!a She rolled her eyes. aSort of.a aTell me youare not working for Carlito.a Lorraine slumped into the chair behind the desk, tears running down her cheeks.

aWhat did Gloria ever do to make you hate her that much?a aI was angry,a Lorraine answered. aGloria betrayed mea”she believed I went behind her back and told Bastian about her stupid affair. But I didnat! That wasnat me! I swear!a Clara reached across the desk and put her hand on Lorraineas. aI believe you.a aMy reputation was completely ruined, and Gloria didnat do a thing to help. She was too busy running off with mobster-killing black men. She was supposed to be my best friend, but she turned the world against me.a aIf thereas anyone you should be upset with, itas me, not Gloria,a Clara said. aI lied to youa”all of youa”and I took the man you loved away. All Gloria did was believe you talked behind her back a and youave got to admit thatas not really a stretch.a Lorraine sniffled. aYou asked why I hate her and I told you. Carlito offered me a job here if I would help him find Gloria and Jerome. So I did. And now Iam in love, so you can keep Mr. Marcus Eastman all to yourself in whatever love nest you two are sharing like some pair of diseased birds. Case closed, Miss Reporter.a Clara slammed her hands down on the desk. aWho are you, Lorraine Dyer? Who turns over her best friend to a certain death just for some kind of idiotic revenge?a aBut Iam nota”a aThis is going too far, Raine. Jerome isnat the one who killed that gangstera”Gloria is. And the reason she killed that guy? Because he was going to kill them. It was self-defense. Carlito is going to kill Gloria. But none of that matters to you, does it?a Lorraine gawped. aHow do you know about Tony? I only a I only just found out. I didnat know before.a Clara could see the old insecure girla”the one from Laurelton Prep, the one who still loved Gloria Carmodya”peeking out. aI swear.a aLook, youave done some terrible things,a Clara said, abut youare not a bad person. We all make mistakes. Itas how you fix them that counts.a Lorraine said, aIam way ahead of you. I am going to fix things. I have a plana”a aWhat, like your plan to humiliate me back in Chicago?a Clara snapped. Shead been an idiot to think she could appeal to Lorraineas better naturea”it didnat exist.

Clara grabbed her purse and stormed out, ignoring Lorraineas attempts to call her back. She almost knocked over an overdressed midget on the stairs and was too worked up even to find that strange.

Clara was still angry when she entered her apartment in Brooklyn.

She slipped off her heels, set her purse on the kitchen table, and walked into her bedroom, where she found Marcus sitting at her desk. It was strewn with notes shead written before she left for the Opera Housea”the details about Gloriaas situation with Carlito.

From the look on Marcusas scowling face, it was clear head read all of it. aI cannot believe you would do this.a aI wasnat going to publish it. Thatas just for me, so I could practicea”a aI donat believe you!a She backed out of the bedroom, shaken. Marcus had never raised his voice to her.

Marcus followed, the notes crushed in his hands. aIam going to find Gloria. Iave got to save her before your selfishness gets her arrested or killed.a He tossed the pages into the trash. aWhy I ever believed youad changed, I canat imagine.a He grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair and strode toward the door.

aI donat want to see you again,a he said, his hand on the doork.n.o.b. aBut then, I havenat really seen you all summer, anyway. Not the Clara I fell in love with.a With that, he slammed the door behind him.

Clara sat with her elbows on her knees, trying not to cry but unable to stop herself.

Then she heard a knock. Oh, thank goodness. Head come back.

She wiped her eyes and swung open the door.

But instead of Marcus, she saw a striking black girl. The girl was wearing a simple but pretty yellow dress. Something about her looked familiar, but Clara couldnat put her finger on what. A handsome black man with a black eye stood beside the girl, looking dapper in a tan suit and blue s.h.i.+rt.

aMay I help you?a Clara asked.

aI certainly hope so,a the girl said. aIam Vera Johnson. Jeromeas sister.a This was all too much to handle. aOh my,a Clara said softly, her knees going weak. aYou and I really need to talk.a And then she crumpled to the floor.

VERA.

Clara Knowles was so much more glamorous than Vera remembered.

Vera remembered Claraas coming with Gloria to the Green Mill. Back then, Clara had seemed like a refugee from Victorian times, looking as if shead been dressed by her grandmother.

But this Clara would have been at home on the cover of a magazine, modeling the latest fas.h.i.+ons. She was some kind of beautiful. Sw.a.n.ky and stylish and radiating the kind of smarts that made her look s.e.xier than any eighteen-year-old had the right to be. Her face looked just as perfect, aside from the fact that her mascara was running a little.

Or rather, that was how she had looked. Now she was pa.s.sed out.

aHold her head,a Vera said to Evan, whoad caught Clara when shead swooned. Vera went inside and wet a dish towel in the kitchen sink. Then she mopped Claraas forehead with it.

Slowly, Claraas eyes fluttered open.

aAre you okay?a Vera asked.

aIam fine now. Thank you,a Clara said. She woozily got to her feet. aUm, come in. Please.a The living room was spa.r.s.ely furnished with a blue sofa and an armchair, two lamps, and a lovely mahogany coffee table.

Clara collapsed into the armchair. aAnd you are?a she asked, turning to Evan.

<script>