“Johnny,” she purred, stretching like a contented cat as he snatched her up for a quick kiss. His clean scent was as arousing as a splash of bathtub gin on ice.
“Hey there, beautiful.” He nuzzled her neck, her hair, running his hands up and down her body. His touch ignited her nerve endings until she felt as tingly as church bells. Not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, but he promised to make her dreams come true and so far, had.
“Umm, how’d I get so lucky,” she murmured, reveling in his adoration. His hands skimmed her appreciatively as her own roamed his attractively honed male physique. He’d stood by her when she was pregnant with another man’s child and hadn’t cared that she’d never have any more. She had never enjoyed such devotion, the taking and giving of pleasure. She felt sensual since him and so very happy. The honeymoon was never-ending.
“Barney’s outside waiting,” he said, referring to his new bodyguard/driver, a necessary precaution with escalating tensions among various gang factions. New York looked out for their own, the Chicago alliance notwithstanding. “Ah, Han…can’t get too carried away pitching woo, but I’ll make it up to you later, doll. I just wanted to say hello and change my shirt.”
“Well hello then,” she said. She liked to believe she was the one in control here, that he needed and wanted her more than she needed him, yet the fear that this was different lurked. She wound around him like velvet ribbon, thoroughly enjoying the solid feel of him. She tipped his hat to the side to brush his lips teasingly.
He didn’t disappoint, responding instantly. He grabbed her tighter, taking her mouth confidently, and so perfectly that excitement danced between them like electricity. He moaned and she knew he felt it too. She wasn’t at all happy when he found the will to pull away, albeit reluctantly. “Damn Hannah, don’t do this to me now. I ain’t got time.”
She sighed, knowing when to admit defeat even though she didn’t like it. Didn’t like that when it came to Johnny’s “business”, no matter how much he desired her he could find the will to pull away. It was maddening really. “I know. You’ve got a deal to close. Where? The track?”
“Don’t get smart,” he barked. “It ain’t easy for me to resist kissing that pout off your pretty lips, but I got a meeting at noon. I don’t want to crease the suit. Anyhow, I brought you something.”
“What?” she asked.
“This.” He handed her a small wrapped package. “Here, open it.”
She smiled, recognizing the distinctive logo. “Oh you kid, you’re spoiling me. Is this really from Tiffany’s?” Her hands shook with excitement.
As she slid out of his arms to open the package, one of the papers he’d been carrying fell to the floor. She went to reach for it, but Johnny grabbed it first, hurriedly placing it into his vest.
The pain was sharp and sudden. “Wasn’t that from the convent? Maybe it’s about my...the baby?” She still thought about the boy. Wondered what he looked like. If the family that adopted him was treating him well. If he were happy.
Johnny’s voice was flat, terse and barely patient. “I told you, Han. The kid’s fine. He’s well cared for by folks who see he gets all he needs. Most of the stuff I get from the Sisters are pleas for donations anyhow. If I hear anything about the kid and we won’t, I’d tell you. You know that. Now, open your gift and be happy. I just want you to be happy.”
“And, I am.” The baby was just one mistake he had saved her from yet... Forcing herself to swallow the grief that sometimes came to her unbidden, she started opening the package and packed the guilt away.
In the box lay a tiny gold and diamond songbird pendant brooch with blue eyes. “Oh Johnny, it’s beautiful.”
He laughed, cupping her face with his hands. “Only the best for my gal. A canary for my canary. The eyes are blue sapphires. It was made for you.” She hugged him, warmed by his thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Johnny. I’ll keep it close to me for luck.”
“Okay now, don’t get all soupy on me. It ain’t exactly Paris.” He kissed her hard before letting her go to walk into the other room. “I gotta change my shirt.”
“Who needs Paris,” she mused, holding out the bird to see how the light played against the many facets of the diamonds. “I hear George and Imogene Remus’s parties are ritzy and decadent. I can’t wait. You know, here I’m just a little nobody, just Johnny’s girl from Kansas, a former cabaret singer no one has heard of, not a wife, friend, relative, just a girlfriend.”
“You don’t like that?” He kissed her again, his shirt open, his dark chest stark against the white of his shirt.
While Johnny’s position enabled her to bracket two worlds; meeting wives and families, going places with the men when they were with their mistresses or whores, it was isolating and lonely. Though brief acquaintances were sometimes formed in powder rooms, on double dates, or over a glass of coffin varnish that passed as whiskey, most of the girls she met weren’t too friendly, territorial about their men she supposed. And most of the wives took one look at her and hated her on sight. Johnny insisted she call Rosie long distance once a week despite the expense, but Meg, irreplaceable Meg was still always in her thoughts. She missed her friend so desperately she sometimes found herself talking aloud to her.
“You ain’t a nobody to me,” he told her, his voice gruff.
“I know, you prove that to me everyday.” She smiled up at him, pushing the blankets aside to get out of bed, wash her face and brush her teeth. She knew he was watching her as she walked into the bathroom. He liked to watch her.
“Hey, I hear the Remus joint rivals Hearst’s castle,” said Johnny. “It’s packed full of pricey junk. It has a ballroom and a huge indoor marble pool that cost one hundred and twenty five thousand dollars. Al says it’s gaudy.”
“And Al’s far from understated himself.” Hannah laughed. According to Johnny, the bookish looking Remus gave up a successful law practice to take up the hard liquor trade, wisely buying up dozens of distilleries to produce the type of medicinal alcohol sold in drugstores all over Ohio, Kentucky and Missouri.
“Barney tells me they’ve been known to give extravagant party favors, like Pontiac sedans for the ladies and gold jewelry for the men.”
“Probably why an invitation there is so popular,” mused Hannah happily.
“Remus is about as stuffy a fella as I ever met.”
“But smart,” acknowledged Hannah not mentioning that she’d received a handwritten note from the wife, Imogene asking her to perform a song or two with the band. Imogene’s best friend had heard her sing years ago at The Jefferson. For Hannah, the recognition was an unexpected surprise, the invitation flattering. She still hadn’t mentioned it to Johnny. Her resuming her singing career was a sore point between them. Johnny wanted her to wait. He meant well so she’d capitulated, shelving her burgeoning desires to think more about his needs, but she felt ready now. Her belly churned nervously as she pondered how to tell him about Imogene’s request, or should she just surprise him?
“What are you gonna do today, doll?”
Johnny startled her, standing behind her as she was combing her fingers through her hair in the mirror pondering her dilemma. She shrugged, eying the bottle of brandy in the corner. “Shop, sightsee and pamper myself at the salon like I have been doing since we got to this town. Lord, I’ve had more pedicures, manicures, facials and massages in the last six months than I ever thought one body could stand, not that I’m complain’, but I sure do miss performing.”
“Patience sure ain’t one of your virtues, Han.” He ran his hand down her back, pleased when she leaned into it, welcoming his touch.
“Never said it was Mr. Gallo sir. Um, how about a nip of brandy before you go?”
“Nah, none for me, too early.” He frowned as she poured herself a shot. “You should lay off the hooch this early. Could get to be a habit, you know?”
“You’re a fuddy duddy.” He thought it tacky for a lady to drink. They’d clashed on it several times. She personally didn
’t see anything wrong with it. After all, if it was okay for a fella, it was certainly okay for a female, but not wanting to rile him unnecessarily; she drank sparingly in public, if at all, but she refused to give up taking nips in private. Gargling and swallowing, she washed the glass, rinsed and plopped a mint in her mouth before he could say a word. She slid past him to where her newest purchase lay. She held it up smiling slyly. “Hey, Johnny, what do you think of this?”
This was a fuchsia lace colored evening dress, decorated with roses and as daringly beautiful as it was revealing. He stared at it, then at her like she was the embodiment of every man’s fantasy—certainly his. Hannah fully aware of his regard tilted her head at him, looking anything but threatened as she posed with it in hand.
“Han, dammit to hell, you’ll look hot as fire in that, but you ain’t thinking of wearing it in public, are ya?”
She giggled and nodded yes. “If I let you tell me how to dress I’d probably be covered from my neck to my toes and hidden away only to be taken out at your whim.”
“You’re right.” He looked unsure about whether he wanted to throttle or devour her. Instead, he shook his head and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, tipped his fedora and started away. “Be packed, dressed and ready to go by four. And please, pick a different dress to wear. No talking to no strangers either.”
She moaned, an annoyed snort.
“This place looks like a pigsty. Why don’t you hang up all the clothes you threw on the chair? Move those shoes into the closet. And, do you have to take up the whole bathroom with all them bottles and potions? Jesus, Hannah, we got maid service, use it.”
“Leave, will you.” She shooed him away with an impatient motion of her hand.
Johnny smiled. “You know I’m a stickler for order, doll.”
“Add in bossy too,” she quipped, eying the dress he’d disapproved of. His controlling ways sometimes rankled. He wanted to know where she was and with whom at all times, but being with him was the closet thing to heaven she’d ever had and she knew she had little to complain about. Pursing her lips, she eyed the mess with a sigh and threw him a big kiss as he left closing the door.
Her closet was overflowing and messy. The door was barely able to close on its haphazard contents, while the other, his, was neat as a pin and arranged with military precision. Hannah was annoyed at herself for not flagging the maid by putting the sign out earlier. Now she was obligated to pick up rather then ignore it. She tried to make some semblance of order to the bed, a wood carved massive thing, grand enough for a pharaoh and covered in layers of soft cotton sheets and pillows, but got distracted by the large vase of magnificent fuchsia colored roses Johnny sent her every week. She plucked out a rose, holding the bud to her nose. She savored the rich fragrance of its perfume, the silky feel of the petals against her skin. Both she and Johnny were headstrong, each used to doing what they wanted, but somehow they managed to rub along pretty well together most of the time. Their arguments were as passionate as their lovemaking. Sometimes she gave in, other times not. The colorful Chinese silk throw pooling to the floor in a wild, telling tangle was just another reminder of the passions they shared.
“Ouch.” A tiny thorn the florist must have missed nicked her. She licked the tiny drop of blood off her finger and placed the flower back in the vase.
The Remus house was protected from the outside world by massive iron gates, guards and dogs. It was a vast gray castle set among a blaze of flowering shrubs and sumptuous foliage. There were showy French and English gardens, statuary busts of brave Roman soldiers, Greek philosophers and voluptuous nudes. The entrance hall was a duplicate Brazilian rain forest replete with elephant heads, tusks raised and the music room boasted a solid gold piano. The door to the music room was open. Johnny had been pulled away to yet another sudden business meeting so Hannah using her time wisely breezed right in towards a small man in a silk shirt, his fedora too large for his narrow face.
“Wow, so this is what a million dollar piano looks like.” She ran her hand over the piano appreciatively before sticking it out in greeting. “Hi, by the way, I’m Hannah. Imogene said—”
“Sure, the singer. Samoots, but you can call me Samo. I play fiddle. Hey, you look like a million bucks in that dress. If you sing as good as you look we’ll be hitting on all six tonight.” The other musicians standing behind him gawked and nodded their heads agreeably.
“Six pieces wow,” said Hannah, feeling a little shy as she explained what she’d done before. “I’m a little rusty. It’s been too long.”
“It comes back easy, kind of like riding a bicycle,” assured the deep voiced bass player, pulling a flask out of his coat and handing it around.
After determining what songs she’d sing with them and deciding on three they mutually knew, Hannah felt elated. She was thrilled to be talking music, back where she belonged, performing. There were a variety of different activities planned throughout the evening and Imogene wanted them to play as her guests entered and mingled, then stop and join the party.
By the time the doors opened to the milling crowd and the piano player tickled down the keys, she’d forgotten everything but the joy of singing. Wearing a tight fitting, low backed blue dress with ruffled off the shoulder sleeves and flounced hem, she smiled when her eyes fell on Johnny. He stood by the door, his eyes riveted on her. She winked at him and sang, ‘Aggravatin’ Papa (Don’t You Try to Two-Time Me)’ and ‘Taint Nobody’s Business If I Do.’ His mouth was in a firm line that couldn’t exactly be called a smile. She couldn’t tell if he was mad or glad.
“Surprised?,” she asked, exhilarated when she finished. She thanked their hosts, the band and the audience before accepting an encore, stepping up for a third song, ‘As Long As I Have You’ which she dedicated to Johnny, the most wonderful fella in the world.
All eyes in the room seemed trained on them as Johnny opened his arms to embrace her afterwards. “You still got it, Han.” He seemed proud and touched. “Hell, I was just starting to look for you, next thing I hear ’em announcing your name.”
“Did you hear the applause?” she whispered, kissing his cheek for the first comment, ignoring the last. “They appreciated me.”
He kissed her possessively and kept his arm tight as a band around her shoulder, marking her as his. “Hey, don’t I make ya feel appreciated?”
She eyed him speculatively. “Of course, but that has nothin’ to do with this.” She told him about Imogene’s letter. “I thought about tellin’…asking…I decided I’d surprise you.” Her chin went up a notch. “I thought it’d be a perfect way to show you how ready I am to go back to work.”
Johnny got out a handkerchief from his pocket. He wiped his forehead. “Well, I am surprised and I can see you’re ready. But ain’t I supposed to be managing your career like we agreed? If you surprise me too much, people might get the idea I ain’t able to manage nothing. No more surprises, please.”
Her face fell. He changed tact. He told her he knew the owner of a nightclub called the Green Mill. “He thinks you’re the real McCoy, Han. Wants to hire you. Of course, it’s all up to you.”
“Wow.” She hugged him, her fingers curled tight around his. He kissed her fingers then let them go. She felt relief. She’d made her point. She might even have a job. Johnny’s fierce attentiveness made her feel like the belle of the ball. People came over all evening to compliment her or talk to him. She watched Johnny navigate through the constant mire of political maneuvers, machinations and personal vendettas that arose in his world. Some people he dealt with were no better than thugs, but, he not only survived, he flourished and she admired him.
“Well, this one is mine,” said Mae Capone waving to Hannah as she continued alone down the long dimly lit hallway to her room. Out of towners were assigned various rooms for the night and several of the women went to freshen up while the men went to gamble, play billiards, or catch a smoke.
Passing the massive library walled with books from floor to
ceiling Hannah saw a globe of the world that appeared to be ancient, a weathered leather couch and various seating areas replete with lamps, tables and desks. She marveled at the sheer size of the house. A large grandfather clock chimed somewhere. This is a house for ghosts, she thought as she pulled out her thigh flask to sip some whiskey, craving a cigarette and thinking of Meg now a ghost herself. Meg had been the only person who had ever understood her hunger, her need to experience life fully, to enjoy and be free. ‘Oh Meggie, I wish you were here, to know how happy I am.’
She forgot how many doors she’d passed when the door she was standing by opened and a man came barreling out.
“Sorry, just trying to figure out which room is mine,” she said, having startled him.
“You’re in the room two down from mine on the left.” He had a wide not unattractive face and very appealing blue eyes that were twinkling.
“Oh yeah, how do you know that?”
“Let’s say it’s my business to pay attention to details like that. You’re here with Cobra.”
“Cobra?”
“Gallo.”
She was certain she’d have remembered this man with his outrageous wide shouldered checkered suit and flowered tie. His dark hair was pomaded, combed slick and parted down the middle. He was of average height, with a stout muscular build. He winked at her and she realized she was gaping. Her main thought was that it took some kind of fella to have the guts to dress like he did and still look like a force to be reckoned with. “Do I know you?”
He cackled, staring back. “I must say, you’re one gorgeous broad.”
She was taken aback. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
The Songbird with Sapphire Eyes Page 18