by Liz Tyner
The man let out a barrel of a belly laugh. “Don’t you worry that pretty little head over Rex Gaynor. He’s only after the stash of cash he stole.”
Her heart skipped a beat. So did her feet. “Stash of cash? From where?”
Charlie got her back in rhythm with the music and led her all the way across the end of the dance floor, and then back the other way before he answered, “The train robbery. He hid it before getting caught, and broke out to go get it.”
She kept her feet moving when they wanted to stop again. “The paper didn’t say that.”
He laughed. “Papers don’t know everything, doll.”
Patsy had grown breathless, but dancing had nothing to do with it. Her heart was racing, stealing her ability to breathe, because of the information she’d just gained. “I wonder where he hid it.”
The man laughed again. “Only Rex knew that.”
The music ended and so did their dancing. She was about to ask him for another one, in order to learn more information, but he nodded at someone behind her.
“Sorry, doll, but I gotta blow this joint.” He winked. “Don’t be a squirrel.”
Libby was never a squirrel. She didn’t hide from anything. Didn’t have to. Spinning about, she looked to see whom he’d nodded at. The only person over that way was walking out the door located beside the end of the bar. All she saw was the back of a brown shirt. A moment later, Charlie walked out that same door.
Patsy considered following him, but she and her sisters had a rule. None of them could leave, not even step outside, without the other two—until it was time to go home. Then they left one at a time, but right behind each other.
She twisted left, then right. Jane was leaning on the piano, talking with the piano player, who was taking a break, and Betty was sitting at the far end of the bar, near where the three men she’d spoken to earlier still sat. Betty glanced at her, and then at the drink Patsy had left on the bar. Which meant she most certainly could not follow Charlie out that door.
She walked over, drank the drink and then set the glass on the bar again. “Is the powder room that way?” she asked as if Betty was a stranger.
Betty gave a slight nod. One that said I’ll be watching you come out.
Patsy knew the rules, and wasn’t going to jeopardize their double lives. But it was hard at times, having to follow so many rules that got in the way of her truly becoming a reporter. That was never going to happen if she could write only about mundane things.
She used the powder room and applied another layer of bright red lipstick before returning to the bar and ordering another drink.
Her mind was still spinning, but now, besides an escaped convict dressed in white and black stripes, there were images of bags of stolen money floating around in her thoughts. She scanned the room. There had to be someone else she could talk to. Someone who might know more about Rex Gaynor.
The room was full of people, those sitting at tables, laughing, drinking and smoking, and those on the dance floor. The piano man was pounding on the keys again, and the dance floor was full of men and women kicking up their heels. That’s what she usually did, too. There was nothing like the fun of that. Dancing beneath the bright lights, completely free of all the restrictions she normally lived by. It was hard to sit on the sideline.
As the idea of hitting the dance floor filled her, the music stopped and a man next to the piano announced they were starting a dance-off.
She loved dance-offs more than anything.
“Five dances. The foxtrot, the Charleston, the Lindy Hop, the shimmy and the tango!” the man yelled. “The best pair of dancers to finish all five dances will win these here trophies!”
The crowd cheered as he held up two glass mugs.
“Full, of course!”
The crowd cheered louder.
“Berries!” Patsy shouted along with others. She couldn’t care less about the mug; it was the dance-off itself that excited her. Tugging her hat down to make sure it was good and tight so her long hair wouldn’t fall out while dancing, she glanced around the room, looking for a man who might be able to really cut a rug. An Oliver Twist.
To her surprise, Lane Cox rounded the corner near the door right then.
“Copacetic!” Learning a bit more while dancing would be absolutely perfect!
She didn’t waste a step in getting across the room to grab a hold of his arm. “Come on, you’re my partner.”
He tried to pull his arm away from her, but she held on and stepped closer to his side.
“Don’t be a killjoy,” she said, batting her lashes. He was not only far younger than she’d imagined, but also very handsome up close.
“I’m sorry, miss, but I’m not here to dance,” he said.
She laughed. “I am.”
He gave a slight nod that caused a section of his slicked-back wavy hair to fall over his forehead. “You’ll have to find someone else.”
This was a first. Men never refused dancing with Libby. He was the person who would know more about Rex Gaynor than anyone else. She hooked her arm fully around his. “I don’t want to dance with someone else.” Giving him a solid tug and a big smile, she took his profession into consideration as she added, “You can tell me more about Rex Gaynor and the stash of cash he’s looking for while we dance.”
Copyright © 2020 by Lauri Robinson
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ISBN: 9781488065613
Compromised into Marriage
Copyright © 2020 by Elizabeth Tyner
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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