by Cole, Audrey
“Are the boys being good to you?”
“Yeah, they’re fine.”
I raise my eyebrows. “Not too good, right? They aren’t being overly friendly?”
She chuckles lightly, shaking her head. “No, ma’am. Especially not with my daddy back.”
I grin. “I imagine he keeps a close eye on you.”
“He does. When he can.” She shuffles on her feet, glancing at the bar where some of the boys are sitting and drinking. “Mickey’s been real nice.” she mutters.
“Has he?”
Elishia looks at me suddenly, realizing what she’s said. “Not like that. He’s been very respectful.”
“In what way then?”
“Well, he…” She purses her lips, thinking. “He hel—“
“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me!”
Elishia jumps as Hal comes bursting into the room, his words bouncing off the walls and closing in on us. I stand up beside her, putting her a little behind me, my body between her and the men. It’s a reflex, nothing more. Something I picked up from years being close to Tommy. I don’t believe any of the boys would hurt her, but better safe than sorry.
“What’s the matter with you?” Mickey asks.
“Reggie, pull out all the bottles. All the gin.” Hal calls out to the bartender. He turns to Mickey. “Damn Canadians pulled one over on us.”
“What? When?”
“With the shipment after Halloween. All the stink we made about the bourbon and the trade off they gave us?”
“Yeah, the gin they gave up for free as repayment. I orchestrated that deal. What’s wrong with it?”
Reggie produces three bottles of gin, lining them up on the bar. Hal snags the one he’s looking for and pulls the cap. He gives it a sniff but comes away frowning.
“It don’t smell no different.” he grumbles.
“Different than what?”
He slams the bottle down on the bar causing some of the liquid to geyser out the top.
“Than shit that kills ya!”
“What are you talking about? Speak English.” Mickey demands.
The hairs on my arms stand up straight and I take several steps toward the bar, eager to hear this.
“I just got a call from Tommy. He heard some stories from Duke and his boys about people in New York getting sick in some of the clubs, sick like some people have been ‘round here. Some people ended up in the hospital, two died. They traced it back to the booze. Bathtub gin brewed all wrong that was making people sick. They found out it came from some Canadians. Fake shit mixed in with the good stuff. Ralph sent Tommy to New York to ask around, find out which Canadians it came from. You’ll never guess who.”
Mickey’s face is dark, angry. “The Tremblays.”
“All sixes.”
“What are the symptoms?” I ask Hal.
He looks at me in surprise then glances around the room, looking further surprised to have such an audience.
“You girls don’t need to hear this. Get back to work.”
“What are the symptoms, Hal?” I demand, taking a step toward him instead of back as the other women do. “We’ve been drinking this trash. We need to know.”
He looks to Mickey who shrugs and looks away. Finally he turns back to me with a sigh.
“Dizziness. Headache.”
“Confusion? Vomiting?” I ask hotly.
He nods. “And blindness.”
I hear gasps all around the room and I know I just got a head count on who’s been drinking the gin.
“It’s what killed Alice.” I whisper.
Hal nods again. “Yeah, Tommy thinks so.”
“Why though? Why didn’t more of us get sick?”
“We’ve been watering it down.” Reggie says quietly. His face is white as a sheet, his eyes downcast. “No one has been drinking it straight. Tommy wanted it to last, to turn a profit, so when people asked for it they got it watered down. Except for…”
“Except for Alice.” I say quietly, getting it.
He nods, looking up at me with pained, wet eyes. “I had just started. I didn’t know. No one had told me to water down the gin yet. When Alice asked for it straight up, I—“ He takes a shuddering breath. “I killed her, didn’t I?”
“No. The Tremblays killed her.” Mickey says darkly. He looks to Hal. “Is Tommy takin’ care of this? When is it happening?”
“Not yet. He’s coming back tonight but first he’s meetin’ up with someone. He’s bringing home reinforcements. The New York gangs have got a stake in this too. They’ve got a lot of sick and two dead. They’re just as angry if not angrier.”
“Who’s comin’ down with him?”
Hal grins slightly but it’s not pleasant. It’s dark and vengeful. Merry in an evil way.
“Fuckin’ Birdie.”
Please enjoy the following excerpt
from the next episode in the
Swan Song series, #3 Vodka Rocks.
Excerpt
I hold on to him for a long while afterwards. I’m unable to trust my own legs to stand and honestly, I just want to be close to him. I need to breathe in his mysterious scent for a few moments longer so I can think of it tonight when I go to sleep. So I can lie down and rest easy pretending he’s there beside me.
“Drew,” I whisper. I have to stop and swallow, composing myself. “Drew, I—“
The doorknob turns sharply. I jump with a start when there’s the bang of a body against it then the spinning of the knob again.
“What the fuck?” comes a muffled exclamation from the outside.
It’s Mickey. Not as bad as Tommy, but not good either.
I turn to Drew in a hurry. I’m sure panic is written all over my face but he looks utterly calm and composed. He shakes his head at me sharply and I stand up straight, pulling myself together. When he strides to the door to open it, easy as anything, I wonder why he’s not an actor.
“Birdie.” I hear Mickey say in surprise. “What are you doing in the boss’ office?”
“Hiding.” Drew drawls, sounding bored.
He turns from the door and leads Mickey lazily into the room. Mickey surveys the dark space sharply but his eyes go saucer wide when they land on me.
“Adrian?”
“Mickey.”
“What are you doin’ in here with him?”
“Playing pinochle.” I deadpan. “What does it look like we’re doing?”
He looks between us slowly. “If I were to wager a guess—“
“I wouldn’t.” Drew says quietly. Deadly.
Mickey licks his lips, avoiding Drew’s eyes. “It don’t look good, Aid.”
He glances quickly at Drew who watches him with vacant eyes.
“We darted in from the hall when the alarm sounded, Mick.” I tell him patiently, taking a casual seat on the arm of the leather lounge chair Drew vacated. I’m grateful for the opportunity. My knees are still quivering. “We did exactly what we’re supposed to.”
“Tommy wouldn’t like it.”
“Would Tommy rather she was in here alone?” Drew asks. He takes a seat at Ralph’s desk, leaning back and lighting a cigarette. The room is darker for a moment as all of the light seems to be sucked into the end of his match. Then it flares as he puffs in, the embers igniting, the light dying as he exhales sharply. “Or if I’d left her in the hall to fend for herself? Is that what he’d like?”
“He’d like to have taken care of her himself.” Mickey says bitingly.
“Then he should have been here, shouldn’t he?”
Drew’s tone puts an end to the conversation. It’s the kind of tone that threatens to put an end to everything else in the world if it so chooses. His dark outline sits menacingly across the room, the faint glow from the end of his cigarette standing out against the dark, looking tame in comparison to the heat from his gaze.
“Well the all clear has been sounded.” Mickey says, heading for the door. “Let’s move.”
He waits for us at
the door and I’m impressed with his stance. He’s looking dispassionately at Drew. As though he’s not squaring off with a nightmare.
“Gladly.” I mutter, heading quickly for the door.
As I pass Mickey he leans in and whispers, “I ain’t gonna tell him.”
I don’t acknowledge that I’ve heard him. But I have. Loud and clear.