Part 15 (1/2)

She turned her head, and there he was.

Marcus.

Clara had to squelch the desire to give him a hug. He was not hers to hug anymore.

aMarcus,a she said with a small smile. aHi.a Marcusas eyes flicked to Parker and back to her. aWhoas this?a aHeas my editor,a Clara said quickly.

Parker extended his hand. aParker Richards, editor of the Manhattanite. You must be proud of everything your friendas accomplished, huh?a Claraas heart seemed to stop for a moment at the way Parker called Marcus her friend. Parker had no idea who Marcus was because Clara had never mentioned him. Shead never mentioned having a boyfriend, even when Parker had asked her about it.

Marcus stared at Parkeras hand, then turned to Clara, his blue eyes cold. aSo this is why you wanted to be a journalist.a aMarcus, thatas not fair. Itas not like that.a aYou want to talk to me about whatas fair?a he asked, his voice rising. aWell, youave got a h.e.l.luva story now, Clara. I hope your typewriter keeps you warm at night.a His mouth twitched. aAnd your new beau.a Marcus stomped up the stairs. Clara stared, unsure of what to do. A voice in her head was screaming Go after him! She could explain about Parker. Marcus wouldnat have gotten so jealous if he didnat still love her, right?

Parker tapped her shoulder. aYou all right?a aIam fine,a Clara replied. aCamon, Parker. Letas go up top and see whatas going on outside.a Clara felt guilty about letting Marcus down once again. But there was one thing Marcus was definitely right about: This was a h.e.l.luva story.

If Clara thought the scene inside the club had been chaotic, it was nothing compared to what she found outside. The alleyway was filled with peoplea”FBI agents shead expected, but outnumbering them six to one were black men and a few women. Most of them were dressed to the nines and carried instruments in casesa”they were musicians, she realized. Someone out on the street was blowing a horn, and the plaintive sound wended its way into the alley.

aWho are all these people?a Parker asked. aWhy are they here?a aA parade?a Clara guessed.

aClara!a a voice called, and from the crowd came Vera Johnson and her handsome trumpeter boyfriend, Evan. Vera looked stricken. aIs he all right? Jerome?a aHeas fine, Vera,a Clara said. aI think theyare bringing him outa”a Before she could finish, the girl threw her arms around Clara and crushed her in an embrace.

aOh, thank you!a aI didnat do anything!a Clara said once theyad parted. aThough it looks like you were ready to do something.a aWe couldnat muster the cavalry,a Evan said, shrugging, abut we did the next best thing: Everybody we know and everybody they know in the industry. Figured Carlito and his gang couldnat shoot all of us. We figured we could overpower them with a big enough mob. There can be power in numbers.a And then Jerome was there, walking down the alley between two agents.

Vera flung herself at him, practically knocking him off his feet. The agents stepped back and reached for their weapons, but Jerome just waved them off and said, aItas my sister, guys.a Jerome pulled Vera into a tight hug, and she sobbed into her brotheras chest. aIam so sorry, Jerome,a she said, the words muddled by her tears. aFor everything youave gone through. Iam just so glad youare safe.a aShhh,a Jerome said, aof course Iam safe. Why wouldnat I be?a Vera looked as though she wanted to answer the question but had no idea what to say. She seemed so young, so frightened; she reminded Clara how young they all were. Publis.h.i.+ng articles? Chasing after mobsters? Capturing killers? What normal seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds did these sorts of things?

If nothing else, Clara thought, let it never be said that I havenat lived an exciting life.

For the first time in a long while, Clara felt truly alone. But she wasnat scared. Instead, she felt exhilarated, fresh, and new. Life wasnat always about lovea”that was the old way, when a girl lived solely for her man. Nowadays life could be about promise, about worka”about a girlas finding something she was good at and following through.

She was done trying to be the woman Marcus or Parker wanted her to be.

She was going to be the woman she wanted to be.

This story was just for her.

GLORIA.

CARLITO MACHARELLI KILLED AT SPEAKEASY OPENING!.

CHICAGO DEB SHOWS MOBSTER WHOaS BOSS!

FORBIDDEN LOVE, GANGSTERS, AND MURDER: A NIGHT NEW YORK WILL NEVER FORGET!.

It had finally happened: Gloria Carmody was a star.

She carefully clipped articles from the Times, the Post, and the Wall Street Journal. New York papers werenat the only ones covering her storya”the reporters in Chicago had been all over it, too. Several made trips to New York just so they could interview the teenage aristocrat whoad fallen in love with a black musician and shot a gangster. The Tribune and the Evening Journal had both already run more than one two-page spread about her.

That was how she learned about Ruth Coughlin and how Ruthas boss, Al Capone, hadnat been too happy about Tony Giaconias murder. Al Capone had just managed to get Chicago under his thumb. How would it have looked if word had got out that Capone couldnat control his own guys? That one of those guys got knocked off by a black piano player and a deb? So Capone sent Ruth to clean up Carlitoas mess. She took care of Bastian first on the docks in Chicago. Then she went after Carlito, Gloria, and Jerome in New York.

Gloria set the articles aside and opened the black sc.r.a.pbook Clara had brought her as a gift.

The magazine article that took up the first few pages always made her smile. Claraas photographer had taken about a million pictures of Gloria, Hank, and the other agents after they arrived at the police station. Gloria looked like a frightened little girl in some and a back talking criminal in others.

But in the photo Clara and Parker had chosen for the article, Gloriaas face had just the right mix of righteous anger, pride, and bruised glamour. She looked like a white light next to the group of dark-suited FBI agents.

GLORIA CARMODY FIGHTS FOR LOVE.

By Clara Knowles.

Eighteen-year-old Gloria Carmody is a flapper extraordinaire, the embodiment of all that the daring modern girl strives to bea”with all that modern girlas tarnished dreams and dizzy exuberances, all her accidental sins and pa.s.sionate mistakes. Gloria has dared to live without societyas approval. Sheas gambled everything so that she can be the one thing that matters most to her: true to herself.

In Chicago, she rejected a picture-perfect society marriage to pursue the taboo love of piano player Jerome Johnson. Thatas not all she went aftera”she also snagged a job singing the blues at a top Chicago club, the Green Mill. She courageously defended Jeromeas life and her own against the gangster Tony Giaconi, shooting him dead when he threatened her. And when, six months after her crime and in another city, Gloria at last had to face her punishment onstage at the Opera House, she didnat shed a single tear.

And yet she is sitting in a jail cell, awaiting trial, instead of out on the street, living her life to the fullest. How can we, as a society, condemn a girl for protecting herself against a man sent to kill her and her lovera”