Speak Low

by Melanie Harlow

  “But what about Joey?”

  His eyes darkened a little. “Leave it, darling. I’ll see you later tonight.”

  He tucked the whisky back into my hand and strode toward the entrance. With dread in my stomach, I turned to see whom he’d rushed off to greet. The dread turned to fury when I saw Gina Meloni making her way toward him, wearing a gorgeous gold and scarlet dress and a feather in her dark hair. She threw her arms around his neck and he kissed her cheek, taking her arm to lead her to their usual table. Spikes of wrath needled my arms and legs, and I finished both the water and the whisky, slamming the glasses on the bar.

  If I’d thought I could handle the back and forth between her and me, I was wrong. Either he wants me or not. No closet full of clothes was worth feeling so angry and inferior every time he left my side and went to her. So her father owned a distillery and supplied his club, so what? He shouldn’t have to marry the guy’s daughter if he didn’t want to. And he didn’t…did he?

  As I watched him seat his fiancée and light her cigarette, it struck me what was so unnerving about his behavior tonight. He was acting just like his father—the amused detachment while calling me darling, the cool kisses on the cheek, the shrewd agenda I knew lurked beneath the polite treatment of his enemies. The comparison turned my stomach.

  I walked back to the booth, where Evelyn and Ted sat holding hands. On the dance floor, Walter was doing his best shimmy with a black-haired flapper dressed in red, and Rosie had her arms around Joey again. He held her close, spun her out, and they laughed together. When he pulled her in even tighter to his chest and whispered something in her ear, I felt it like a punch in the stomach. No one wanted to dance with me that way.

  My hiccups were gone. I ordered another drink.

  #

  At some point, Joey and Rosie returned to the table, and I did my best to appear unaffected by their flirting as well as by the whisky I’d consumed. It wasn’t easy. My head was cloudy, the room wasn’t holding still like I wished it would, and my skin itched with irritation. There was plenty of room in the goddamn booth—why the hell did she need to sit on his lap? And why the hell did I care, anyway? I held my tongue, not easy for me, and tried not to stare at them. I even attempted to flirt with Walter, and though my heart wasn’t in it, Joey sat up straighter when I put my hand on Walter’s arm and laughed at a silly joke he told. It made me feel a little better.

  Around midnight, one of the DiFiore goons came to our table and asked for Joey to follow him. Joey excused himself, and I practically elbowed Walter in the face to scramble out of the booth after him. “Joey, wait!”

  He turned and grimaced at me. “Go back and sit down.”

  “No. I’m coming with you.”

  “You can’t. And you’re drunk. Now quit acting screwy and go back to the table. I’m sure Arthur misses you already.”

  “Walter.”

  “Exactly.” He took me by the shoulders, turned me around, and gave me a little shove toward the table.

  But I wouldn’t go. “I’m coming with you,” I insisted, trailing his heels.

  Joey shrugged and spoke over his shoulder. “Fine, I’ll let the cake eater deal with you.”

  I hurried behind him, taking two steps for every one of his, stumbling a little in my high heels. When the goon reached the curtained doorway that accessed a staircase to the building’s upper floors, I tried to slip through after Joey.

  “He didn’t ask for you.” The goon grabbed my elbow and held me back.

  “I promise I won’t be any trouble.” I smiled sweetly at him, a younger guy with thick eyebrows and a five o’clock shadow. “I stayed here Friday night, and I think I left something in one of the rooms. I’ll just retrieve it while I’m here.”

  “Oh, you work here, eh?” One of his bushy brows arced suggestively.

  “What? No! I was sort of—a guest.” And sort of a prisoner too, but I left that part out.

  “That’s a shame,” said the goon. Joey bunched his fists at his sides.

  “Listen, if Enzo sends me back down, I’ll come without any trouble at all.” I tried a flirty wink. “What harm could a little thing like me cause?”

  Joey coughed, and I glared at him.

  “No chance, doll. He didn’t ask for you.”

  So much for my feminine charm. Helplessly I watched them disappear behind the curtain, then spun around and stomped back toward the booth. How dare Enzo shut me out! I was the one who told him Joey had the opium in the first place. Was he keeping me away for a reason? I was torn between being angry and being scared. If he was on the level about his promise not to hurt Joey, why wouldn’t he tell me what he was doing? And how dare Joey fail to stick up for me and insist I be allowed to accompany him! I’d put this whole thing in motion.

  Bastards, all of them.

  I was almost to the table when I recalled another way to access stairs to the upper floors—the tunnels.

  Subterranean passageways led from the club to hidden stairwells as well as to buildings across the street. They were used for escaping during raids or for booze deliveries, but if I could find my way into them, they’d sure be useful to me tonight.

  Biting my lip, I scanned the club. There was a door to the tunnels in a room behind the bar, but I’d have to convince the bartender to let me back there, which seemed unlikely. One leg twitched impatiently. It would’ve been much easier to think through this plan if I wasn’t so goddamn tipsy—the room was positively spinning.

  With a loud blaring solo by the trumpet player, the band swung into a hot jazz number, and the crowd rushed the dance floor. I went along, the murky edges of an idea taking shape in the back of my head. I pushed through the dancers as they jumped and flailed to the two-beat rhythm, feeling the thump of the bass drum in my chest. Awkwardly I tried to dance along with them a little, lifting a knee here and an elbow there, hoping it looked like the Charleston, a smile plastered on my face. Thankfully everyone was either too drunk or too exhilarated by the music to notice me. When I’d made my way to the front, I skirted the stage over to the side. An unguarded door led to the backstage area, and I hurried through it without stopping.

  I saw no one. Moving quickly, I walked past doors labeled Dressing Room and kept my eyes peeled for one that might access the tunnels. There had to be an entrance to them on this side of the club—if the cops came in the main doors from the street, the room behind the bar wouldn’t provide a safe getaway. The logical exit would be in the opposite direction. I congratulated myself on this brilliant deduction, and when I came to an unmarked door, I squealed inwardly and threw it open.

  Unfortunately it led to a prop closet where two women and a man were engaged in an activity that was definitely not the Charleston, although it looked just as rhythmic and entertaining, with limbs extended every which way. “Oops, sorry!” I whispered, backing out and slamming the door.

  Damn.

  I hurried further along the backstage corridor until I came to another door. Crossing my fingers, I twisted the knob and pushed it open, and found myself inside a closet full of cleaning supplies. But at the back of the closet I saw something else—the outline of another door. Stepping around buckets and rags, I prayed the door would open without a key. Who has time to fumble with keys during a raid, right? I pushed the cleaning implements aside.

  No lock. Just a baseball-sized hole in the wood, through which I stuck my fingers and yanked.

  It opened.

  I took a second to pull the outer door shut behind me and ducked into the tunnel, my heart pounding at the sudden darkness. Enzo and I had snuck up to Angel’s office twice last week using the tunnels, but he’d had a lighter in his pocket that we’d used to illuminate the way. I fumbled in my purse, where I’d stuck a few cigarettes in a small case along with a matchbook. How many did I have left? My fingers shook as I felt for the number of matches—four. Saying a quick prayer they would last, I lit the first one and started walking.

  With one hand brushing along t
he cement wall for balance, I moved as quickly as my legs would carry me down the dirt-floored tunnel. The music receded until I couldn’t hear it anymore, and my breathing got louder. I stopped twice to light new matches and once when the passageway forked and I had to make a choice about which way to go. I stayed to the right, reasoning I was traveling clockwise around the perimeter of the club and wanted to stay close to it. When my third match was nearly burnt out, I came to another wooden door. Crossing myself with my free hand, I pushed it open. Just as the match burned dangerously close to my fingers, I saw stairs.

  With a sigh of relief, I blew out the match in my hand and lit the last one.

  Then I climbed two flights of stairs and pushed open the heavy door at the top.

  Bingo.

  Angel’s office was just down the hall. Based on previous experience, I knew that office made Enzo feel powerful and confident, whether it was business or pleasure. Pushing the stairwell door closed behind me, I leaned back against it and blew out the match.

  “Hey!” bellowed a deep voice. “How’d you get up here?”

  I jumped. The goon in the dark suit who’d come for Joey was striding down the hallway toward me. He wasn’t that tall, but he was wide and thick-knuckled, and I didn’t like the way he was looking at me.

  “I want to see Enzo.” I planted my feet and stood tall.

  When he reached me, his eyes traveled down my body and up again. “What’s it worth?”

  “Go to hell.” I scooted around him and bolted for the office, but he chased me, catching my upper arm with iron fingers.

  “Let go of me, you ape.” I tried to wrench my arm from his grip. “Enzo! Help!”

  The goon squeezed tighter. “Shut the fuck up.”

  The door to the office swung open and Joey burst through it. The next thing I knew Joey had thrown a punch so hard it knocked the goon off balance. As he stumbled backward, he let go of my arm and Joey landed a few jabs to his gut before taking a hit in the face. “Joey!” I cried.

  With the back of one hand he touched his nose, which was bleeding. He looked at it and then delivered a series of blows to the goon’s face and stomach that had him reeling. I flinched at each sickening crack and thump. Finally, the goon went down hard.

  “What the fuck, Lupo?” Enzo elbowed his way past Joey into the hallway.

  “He had his hands on her.” Joey’s chest heaved with heavy breaths, and he gingerly touched his nose once more.

  Enzo looked at me. “Is that true?”

  “Yes!” I snapped.

  “Well, she doesn’t need you to defend her here.” Enzo took my face in his hands, brushing my hair back with his thumbs. “Are you all right?”

  My stomach was roiling a little, but I nodded. “I’m fine.”

  He pressed a kiss to my forehead, which somehow seemed more for Joey’s benefit than my own. “I’m sorry. Go into the office and sit down while I deal with this asshole.”

  Which asshole? I wondered. But I slipped through the office door and took a seat on the brown leather sofa.

  Adrenaline had kept me alert, but once I sat still, I felt the effects of the whisky again. The pattern on the rug in front of my feet swirled like a whirlpool, making me even more sick to my stomach. Snapping my eyes closed, I put a hand over my belly and breathed deeply. The office smelled nice, like leather and tobacco. A moment later, I opened my eyes.

  There. That’s better.

  Now to find out what the hell was going on between Enzo and Joey.

  Chapter Seven

  Enzo didn’t return immediately, so I had a few minutes to myself. The office looked the same as I remembered—oak paneling, gold drapes at the windows, a sideboard along one wall topped with crystal decanters, and two red leather chairs in front of a large mahogany desk.

  Oh, the things we’d done on that desk.

  I pressed my knees together.

  Stop it. This is no time to get distracted by sex.

  But my body had never listened to my brain where Enzo was concerned, especially once I’d been drinking, and I felt the pull low in my abdomen as I recalled the way he’d set me on the desk, knelt in front of me, and run his tongue along—

  “So here we are again.” Enzo’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

  I turned and saw him pouring a glass of something at the sideboard. He’d entered so stealthily I hadn’t even heard him.

  “Darling, your ability to create chaos among men will never cease to amaze me.”

  I wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or insulted. Glancing at the door, I asked, “Where’s Joey?”

  “He asked for a moment to clean up.”

  “Oh.”

  “He’ll be back soon, otherwise I can think of a few things I’d rather do with you in this office than talk.” He moved to the desk and sat behind it, looking more like Angel than ever. “Especially at this desk.”

  “Then you should have told me what you were planning tonight.”

  “Tiny, this really has nothing to do with you. Why don’t you—”

  “Bullshit!” I exploded, fueled by whisky and frustration. I wouldn’t be brushed off. “You made me a promise and I intend to hold you to it.”

  He looked amused. “I make a lot of promises. Which one are you referring to?”

  I nearly launched myself over the desk to slap his handsome face, an urge I had frequently. Instead I clenched my fists and counted to three. “Tell me why you asked Joey here tonight, alone.”

  “Leave it, Tiny.” I stood as Joey entered the room, tucking a bloody handkerchief into his coat pocket. “It ain’t your concern.”

  I looked from one to the other, seething. “So that’s how it is.”

  “That’s how it is.” Joey’s face looked pale, and I didn’t think it was because of the fight, which was nothing new for him. Something had happened before I’d gotten up here, but neither of them would tell me what it was. The idea that it was now the two of them against me drove me insane.

  “Do you know what I went through to get up here?” I stamped my foot like a child. Enzo actually laughed, which only made me angrier.

  “How did you get up here, anyway?” He sipped his drink.

  “Never mind about that,” I snapped.

  “I need to go,” Joey said. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Soon,” said Enzo.

  Joey nodded. “Soon.”

  “I’ll call someone to escort you down.” Enzo picked up the telephone on the desk and Joey and I stood in silence. It felt a little like we were two kids in the principal’s office, waiting for our punishment. I thought of the time five years ago when Joey’d had the brilliant idea to steal and bootleg the sacramental wine from church. Michigan had just gone dry and he was positive it was a brilliant scheme, sure to make some quick dough. I’d had the brains to turn him down, thank God, but he’d gotten caught. That’s when he’d entered the Bishop School, a sort of reform school for kids needing a last chance, and met the future members of the River Gang. He’d been tossed out of there for running crap games in the yard.

  But he’d once beaten the tar out of this neighborhood bully named Timmy Toos for repeatedly eating out of my lunch box and stealing my milk money. And he’d threatened to cut off Mary McCarty’s long hair in her sleep if she didn’t stop calling me a dwarf. And when he found out I’d won a prize for mathematics in twelfth grade, he embarrassed me by announcing it at a family dinner at Bridget’s that Sunday. At the time I thought he’d just done it to annoy me.

  Now I saw it differently.

  “Grazi,” Enzo said before hanging up. “Someone will be here in a moment to take you both down.”

  “Me too?” I said, surprised.

  “Yes. I have some more business to do tonight. And I can’t leave the club just yet—my father is at his new establishment. With your father, actually,” he finished, smiling. “I wonder who’s having more luck at the tables.” His dark eyes sparkled with mischief.

  “The house always wins.”
Joey spoke quietly but firmly.

  “That’s true,” agreed Enzo. “Now, darling, why don’t you go back to your friends and I’ll find you later.”

  “I might not be here later. It’s already midnight, and I have to get up early.” It was a lie, Molly was ready to handle things at home in the morning, but I didn’t want Enzo to think I would just wait around for him.

  “Oh? What a shame. Well, I guess I’ll be lonely tonight.” His tone implied he’d be anything but lonely.

  A moment later, a couple moon-faced guys in dark suits showed up and took us back to the club. The music was still jumping, the dance floor was still packed, and the crowd at the bar was even thicker. All of it annoyed me. I marched ahead of Joey on stiff legs and flopped into our booth, across from Rosie, who, despite her threat, was still waiting for Joey.

  “There you are!” shouted Evelyn over the music. She rushed from the edge of the dance floor over to the table and fanned her face, which was pink and sweaty. But her blue eyes were lit from within, and the glow in her skin was becoming.

  “Here I am.”

  Her brow wrinkled at my glum face. “Everything OK?”

  “I’m fine,” I promised her. She deserved a good time tonight. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rosie tug on Joey’s arm until he sat next to her. “Really,” I went on. “Go enjoy yourself. I just have a bit of a headache, so I’m going to rest here a bit.”

  “All right.” She glanced at the table and giggled. “Ted bought a couple bottles of champagne—it’s the bee’s knees! Maybe that’ll cure your headache.”

  I plastered a smile on my lips. “It might. Go on, dance.”

  “All right.” She tilted her head. “Sure you’re OK?”

  No. I looked across the table. Joey’s face was stony; Rosie’s was triumphant. She stroked his arm and whispered something in his ear. “I’m sure.”

  She patted my arm and hurried back to Ted, who scooped her up close. I didn’t see Walter anywhere and figured he’d given up on me altogether. Smart guy.