Jazz Baby

by Téa Cooper

‘She’s safe.’

  ‘She’s not bloody safe and you’ve just made things even worse. I told you. This time I’m calling the shots.’ Ted wrenched his head in the direction of the bar. ‘Get back there.’

  ‘I’m not leaving…’

  ‘You bloody are. Now move.’ Ted’s single eye blazed at Jack. In that instant Jack was back in the cockpit, the tense line of Ted’s mouth and the intensity of his stare clearly telling him to fuck off.

  Just the way he had before he’d disappeared down through the clouds to attack the swooping German plane. ‘Not this time, mate. We’re doing it together.’

  Ted’s shoulders dropped and his jaw tightened. Then he grinned. ‘So be it. Got a plan?’

  ‘Short of getting her out of here — no.’

  ‘Flying by the seat of your pants again, are you?’

  ‘Okay, smart arse. What’s the plan?’ Jack flicked a glance back to the stage. Dolly gave a shimmy and bowed low as she finished the song. The crowd thundered their applause. ‘I reckon she’ll sing a couple more numbers then they’ll take a break. Is there another door out of here?’

  ‘Not that I know of. If you can get her down here with you and I cause a bit of a ruckus, reckon you could slip out?’ Ted asked.

  ‘And leave you here holding the fort? We’ve played that game before. Not sure I’m game for the consequences after last time.’

  ‘You get Dolly out of here and we’ll worry about me afterwards. Only this time come back and find me. I’ve got no intention of going up in smoke, besides I’ve got some unfinished business.’ Ted’s lecherous grin spoke volumes.

  ‘Cyn…?’ Jack’s words disappeared in the howl of appreciation heralding the opening bars of Jazz Baby. His mouth dropped as Dolly belted out the song. Nothing shy and retiring this time. The incongruous collection of men and women jumped to their feet and the underground cavern became a seething mass of writhing bodies as Dolly shimmied and shivered her way backwards and forwards across the small stage.

  Unable to wrench his eyes away Jack followed her every movement, his heart racing and stealing his breath from his lungs.

  ‘This is it,’ Ted yelled in his ear and Jack dragged his eyes to his friend to see him disappearing into the crowd.

  Dolly stepped down off the stage, arms outstretched and every inch of her body vibrating in time to the music. She shimmied towards him, her eyes shining sapphire bright, glued to his face. The muscles in his body tensed as her intention became clear.

  His eyes never left Dolly’s as he backed closer to the door. Her final chorus rose to a crescendo and then with a trickle of his fingers Lawrence returned to the first verse. Sweat dribbled down Jack’s back, pooling at his waistband. Dolly made a couple of twirls, lifting the skirt of her frock and showing her long legs. The crowd roared its approval. She dragged out her progress avoiding the filthy clawing hands of the onlookers. Jack’s blood hammered in his ears blocking out the music.

  A blast of cold air fanned his cheeks and he glanced over his shoulder registering the open door, the bouncer nowhere in sight. Sucking in a breath of the smoke-filled air he screamed, ‘Now!’

  Dolly raced past him heading for the door. The music rose then shattered to a climax. Thunderous applause broke out and covering Dolly’s back Jack hustled her out through the open door then rammed it shut behind him.

  Grabbing her hand he pulled her after him, across the slippery cobblestones and around the corner in front of the pub.

  ‘Jack, stop! Stop!’ She bent down to unbuckle her heeled shoes. ‘Where’s Ted?’ Her breath came in short sharp bursts.

  ‘I’ll come back and get him.’ He grabbed her arm and yanked it hard. ‘Got to get you out of here.’

  ‘No. Ted!’ Her ragged breath dampened his cheek. ‘I’m not going without him.’

  He pushed her under the pub verandah. ‘Go and wait over there. In the shadows.’

  ‘I’m coming too.’

  ‘Dolly! Stay!’ Jack spun on his heel and lurched back into the alleyway.

  The great timber doors remained shut. Darkness hung like a shroud over the narrow street. He paused, beating back the muffled sound of Lawrence’s piano and pulled the revolver from his waistband. One step at a time he edged into the darkness. A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead into his eye. Clasping his gun tighter he flattened himself against the brick wall, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

  ‘What kept you?’

  Jack’s breath exploded. ‘Ted?’

  ‘No, Father Christmas.’

  ‘Where’s the bouncer?’

  ‘Up against the wall with a serious headache. Where’s Dolly?’

  ‘Round the corner.’

  ‘What are we waiting for then? Let’s get the hell out of here.’

  Chapter 21

  Jack ushered Dolly and Ted through the heavy glass doors and into the lift. In the confined space their mingled breath rasped as they bent double, wheezing and snorting like steam trains.

  ‘Bloody hell! I reckon we could take the cup at Flemington with a run like that.’ Ted pulled his hat off and wiped his arm over his forehead. ‘Nice one, mate. We’ve always made a good team.’

  Jack cuffed Ted across the head, accepting his recognition and nodding in agreement.

  Dolly settled for a loud derogatory snort. The two of them would be slapping each other’s backs next and indulging in some sort of bonding ritual. They were cut short when Jack swung open the metal gates on the cage of the lift.

  Since they’d left the alleyway he and Ted had half carried, half dragged her through numerous back streets and laneways. Once again she had no idea where she was or what would happen next and she didn’t like it. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Home,’ said Jack, stepping out of the lift.

  She followed him across the black and white tiled floor to a door flanked by two large potted palms. While Jack rapped on the door she peered through the lattice screen over the Moorish balcony down to the bottom floor. In the space of twenty-four hours she’d gone from luxury to places more squalid and sordid than she’d ever dreamed existed, and now this — it reminded her of her storybook, Scheherazade’s Tales of A Thousand and One Nights, and her mother sitting beside her on the bed reading.

  With a squeal the door flew open. Dolly spun around, her heart thumping like a kettle drum.

  ‘Darlings! Thank goodness. Come in, come in. I’ve been worried sick.’

  Dolly hovered in the hallway, her eyes bulging at the sight of Cynthia. Where were they and what was she doing here? Like a bucket of cold water Cynthia’s presence drowned out the exhilaration coursing through her veins from their madcap dash. She took a couple of steps back until Jack nudged her gently through the door.

  ‘In you come, Dolly. Welcome to my place.’

  Jack’s place? ‘This is where you live?’ She revolved slowly, her eyes drawn to the starburst suspended from the centre of the ceiling showering millions of sparkling stars across the polished floor. ‘This is where you live, where Ted’s been staying?’ She stared around at the pristine white walls, shiny silver and glass tables and angular furniture and shivered.

  ‘For the past few days, since I found him.’

  Cradling her hammering head in her hands she slumped down on the hard sofa. It hadn’t crossed her mind to wonder where or how Jack lived. Cynthia looked right at home here with her shiny blonde hair and sparkling frock. This Aladdin’s Cave was even further removed from Wollombi than Mrs Mack’s.

  What she wouldn’t give to turn the clock back twenty-four hours. Number Fifty-Four seemed like a distant haven. Singing and working there had been the most exciting and happiest days of her life. Just as she promised herself when she came to Sydney she’d stepped up and taken control, or so she thought. Now everything had changed.

  Of course she was happy Ted was alive, yet his reappearance had triggered chaos. Like the dominoes she used to balance across the tabletop, Jack had knocked the first one down and all the others had
followed, collapsing in confusion.

  ‘Dolly, are you all right?’ Jack’s warm hand rested on her shoulder. ‘Take this and sip slowly.’

  The fumes from the glass he held made her breath catch and she shook her head. ‘I don’t want any brandy. I just want to sit for a moment and gather my thoughts.’

  ‘Maybe later.’ Jack placed the glass onto the round table next to the arm of the sofa and sank down next to her. ‘Everything will look better in the morning.’

  Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes and she forced them back. ‘I’ve left my suitcase in Lawrence’s room,’ she sniffed. ‘I took all my belongings with me.’ Blowing out a long sigh she clamped her teeth together, determined not to cry. If she broke down Jack, and Ted, would come up with some solution and make her do something else she didn’t want to do. Her crying days were well and truly over.

  When she saw Jack’s face in the audience she’d been so relieved. She’d needed their help to get out of that place just the way she’d needed their help when Pa had wanted to send Mischief to the knackers’ yard. Now she intended to take care of matters herself. She was in charge of her own destiny and besides, Cynthia’s presence made it quite clear where Jack’s interests lay.

  She sneaked a look at him from under her lashes, sitting there next to her like some sort of guardian, all big and protective. What did she have to do to prove she was no longer a child? ‘Where’s Ted?’ she asked, having forgotten for a moment all about her brother.

  ‘With Cynthia, I’d guess.’ Jack tipped his head in the direction of the hallway.

  ‘What are they doing?’

  ‘Doing what Cynthia does best.’

  Dolly sat up straighter and turned her head. Jack’s arm lay across the back of the sofa, close though not touching. ‘Aren’t you jealous? I thought Cynthia was your girl.’

  His arm slid to her shoulders as he faced her and with his other hand he reached out and ran the back of his fingers down her cheek. A smile tugged his mouth. ‘I think you could say Cynthia’s current interests lay elsewhere.’

  ‘Oh.’ Dolly moistened her dry lips and swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I’m sorry.’ She plucked at a thread on her skirt.

  ‘Sorry? Why would you be sorry?’

  ‘Well, I thought…last night when I was singing…’ Heat rushed to Dolly’s face as she remembered the look on Jack’s face when he’d seen Ted with Cynthia, when he’d gone charging across the room and almost flattened her brother against the wall…only she hadn’t known then it was Ted. He’d been consumed by jealousy, waves of resentment oozing from every pore.

  ‘Are you going to tell me?’ A smile quirked the corner of his mouth, almost as though he was teasing her, just like the old days when he’d hold a lollipop just out of her reach, dangling it tantalisingly above her nose and then jerk it away.

  She brushed his arm off her shoulders and stood up. ‘When you saw Cynthia with another man you stopped watching me sing and went to find out who was with Cynthia. It was as though…it was…it doesn’t matter.’ Her words tangled like Ah Tom’s noodles and she flopped down into the chair opposite Jack. Putting some space between them might make it easier to think straight. Every time he was near her he made her hot and bothered and annoyed so she couldn’t concentrate.

  ‘I see,’ said Jack, picking up the glass she’d rejected, swirling the brown liquid around and around, sniffing as though brandy was some sort of magic elixir. ‘And you noticed when I stopped watching you sing, did you?’

  Dolly fanned her face. ‘It’s awfully hot in here. Do the windows open this high up?’ She puffed out some air to lift her fringe from her forehead and dragged in a shuddering breath. ‘Yes, I did. Then you went racing across to Cynthia and threw Ted against the wall.’

  ‘Hardly threw.’ Jack grinned, his dark eyes sparkling with something that looked remarkably like pleasure.

  ‘Stop teasing me.’ She slapped her hand over her mouth, furious she’d resorted to her childhood complaint.

  ‘I’m not teasing you, Dolly. You’ve forgotten something.’

  How she could have forgotten any tiny bit she had no idea. She could still feel the jealousy burning in her chest when she’d seen Jack rush to Cynthia.

  ‘Did you know then Cynthia was with Ted?’ Jack asked, leaning back with a self-satisfied smirk.

  Dolly remembered the brief flash of familiarity when she’d seen the man, then Jack had bundled him and Cynthia out of the room as fast as he could. ‘No, I didn’t know it was Ted. He looked familiar, the way he stood, and I thought my imagination was playing tricks on me. Why would I think it was Ted? You hadn’t even bothered to tell me my brother was alive. In fact you blatantly lied to me.’ She glared across the room at him, determined to make him aware of her anger.

  ‘Just a minute, one thing at a time. We’ll get onto that later.’ Jack rested his elbows on his knees and cupped his face in his hands.

  His black eyes bored into hers and try as she might to look away he pinned her like a butterfly specimen.

  ‘You’ve forgotten I knew it was Ted. The reason I went racing across the room wasn’t because he was talking to Cynthia. It was because he was there and I didn’t want you to spot him before I’d had the chance to tell you.’

  ‘You still didn’t like him paying all that attention to Cynthia.’ She licked her lips trying to control her lollipop pout. What she wouldn’t give to have someone care that much about her. For a fleeting moment she’d thought Jack might until he proved her well and truly wrong. She’d been a gullible fool. She glowered at him.

  ‘Oh, Dolly.’ He sighed as though she’d committed some blunder. ‘I’ve already told you, Cynthia’s not my girl. She never has been and she never was. She works at Millie’s and she’s a friend. I help her out sometimes.’

  His heels clicked on the parquetry floor, closer and closer until he stood right in front of her. The heat of his body radiated against her bare knees. She wriggled in the chair and tried to pull her skirt down to form some kind of a protective barrier. The familiar masculine scent of him invaded her nostrils, wrapping around her, filling her. All her thoughts jumbled again and she shook her head.

  ‘There’s only one girl for me. I suspect it’s always been that way.’ His low voice sounded so sincere, so earnest. ‘My only problem is I’m not sure her family approve.’

  Her stomach took a dive and her frazzled nerves sent a shiver skipping down her spine, her shoulders drooped and her head fell forwards as all the breath left her body. At least now she knew exactly where she stood. She’d wanted the truth and she’d got it. He’d given up on his one true love. She hadn’t imagined Cynthia having a family although quite why she didn’t know; Cynthia must have had a life before she worked at Number Fifty-Four just the same as she had her life in Wollombi before she ended up on Mrs Mack’s doorstep.

  She tilted her head up to look at his face; she might as well hear now, then she could get on with becoming a singer. Dark stubble lined his jaw and his eyes glowed catching pinpricks of light from the starburst hanging from the ceiling. She’d miss him, miss his friendship and…well…and him. She stared, long and hard, intent on imprinting his face in her memory, knowing this would be her last chance.

  ‘Oh.’ Her voice came out in a high-pitched squeak; his patronising smirk should have annoyed her instead it did funny things to her stomach and made her lick her lips again and swallow.

  ‘Stand up, Dolly.’ Jack reached out, palms up.

  She studied his hands. Hands that had saved her and soothed her so many times, hands that had sent such delicious tremors through her, made her feel like the woman she wanted to be. Unable to resist she reached out to him.

  The simple frisson of his touch inflamed her skin, turning it inside out as heat blossomed under the surface. He drew her closer making her heart thud like a hammer in the most peculiar manner. They were so close a piece of paper couldn’t slide between them. She bit down on her lip remembering the way he’d
peeled her arms from around his neck in the Blue Room. Not this time. She wouldn’t do it again.

  Her nipples pebbled beneath her frock, painful and hard, pressing against the soft silk; she pulled her hands free and clamped her palms across her agonising response. And she’d been worried about people seeing through her frock and wanted a petticoat. This was ten times worse. Jack would know what he was doing to her, how her body was reacting.

  He reached down and lifted her hand slowly raising it to his lips and kissing her palm with soft fluttery little touches. What was that supposed to mean? If he thought to calm her he couldn’t be further from the truth. The touch of his lips made every inch of her skin tighten and burn as though a bushfire was raging through her body.

  Gently he lifted her chin forcing her to look into his eyes. ‘It’s you, Dolly. No one else. Just you.’ His breath whispered against her lips as his fingers threaded through her hair, cradling her head, drawing her mouth to his. She tasted the brandy sweetness of his breath and the tip of his tongue asked questions she couldn’t answer. The tiniest of whimpers and the barest of tremors shook her as his tongue slid out of her mouth and licked her lower lip. This was nothing like their other kiss. A thrill shivered across the nape of her neck and something more, something akin to longing travelled the long length of her spine.

  When he traced a slow trail of kisses along the line of her chin and below her ear her treacherous body arched against him. She crushed her aching breasts against the solid mass of his chest.

  Jack’s breath came in gasps as rapid as her own and when his fingers slid to her shoulders and snagged on the straps of her camisole she thought she would die. A whimper sneaked from her throat and his warm, welcoming mouth returned to hers. This time her tongue met his dancing and delving with a mind of its own. She stretched and rubbed catlike against him, drowning in their combined warmth.

  He laid his lips alongside her ear, his breath sending an indecent swirl of something inexplicable to places she’d barely ever thought of. ‘Do you still want to be my girl?’

  The dark stubble lining his jaw rasped against the sensitive skin of her cheek and this time her arms stayed around his neck; he didn’t move them and she had no control over her actions. Her fingers threaded through the short hair at the nape of his neck as she pressed her lips against his.