Dollface

by Renée Rosen

  THE HOLIDAY BLUES

  Shep sat behind his desk, fiddling with his cuff link. He couldn’t look at me when I read to him anymore. Even if it was from a novel. And that day I was sorting through scraps of paper and cocktail napkins and anything else that Bugs had found to write on. I read them to Shep one by one. Some were dropoff points. Others were instructions for Knuckles and some of the others like Frank and Peter Gusenberg. Another was a list of repairs for a truck that John May needed to fix.

  I was let in on Shep’s business now but only because he needed me. It reminded me vaguely of my own bootlegging days.

  “You know,” I said, “it would make a lot more sense if Bugs had Frank stay back at the warehouse and he sent Peter to—”

  “Is there anything else there?” Shep asked, letting me know my opinion wasn’t needed.

  “That’s it.” I handed him Bugs’s notes. There was a definite cutoff point to my usefulness.

  He nodded, got up from his desk and reached for his hat. “I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up.” He walked out of the room.

  Sometimes I didn’t feel like his wife, but more like his underling. It had been weeks since he’d held me or kissed me, let alone made love to me. I missed him, and the more he shut me out, the more I justified my running back to Tony.

  The next morning I went to Tony’s hotel. Capone was sending him out of town for a few weeks the following day and the two of us went at it, hoping it would sustain us while he was gone. I’d lost all track of time and was more than thirty minutes late meeting the girls for lunch.

  “Have you ordered yet?” I asked, rushing into the Walnut Room.

  “Just waiting on you.” Evelyn shot me a look and raised her menu.

  “Maybe now we can order. We’re starving.” Basha snapped her fingers to signal the waitress.

  “Oh c’mon, I’m not that late,” I lied as I settled in, shrugging off my overcoat, resting it on the back of my chair.

  “So where were you, anyway?” Evelyn asked, her eyes locked on her menu. It was like she knew I was keeping something from her.

  “I had to take Hannah shopping for shoes.”

  “I thought you did that yesterday,” said Basha.

  “It, ah, well, we started to and then something happened and . . .” God, I couldn’t keep my stories straight. I shifted in my chair. I was still wet from Tony.

  “It’s okay. You’re here now.” Dora smiled. She was pregnant and not about to let anything get her down.

  “No Cecelia today?” I asked, looking at the empty chair.

  “She sends her regrets.” Evelyn pinched open her pocketbook for a cigarette.

  “It was their anniversary the other day,” Dora said. “It knocked her for a loop. Some days she seems like her old self and some days she’s a wreck. Poor thing.”

  “Poor all of us.” Basha reached inside her pocketbook for her flask and poured some gin into her coffee cup. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen Basha sober. Now that she was no longer plotting Mrs. Squeak’s demise, she didn’t know what to do with herself. It was as if her favorite hobby had been taken away.

  “Do you believe this,” I said, trying to lighten the mood as I gestured toward the garlands and big red bows wrapped around the pillars. “We just got through celebrating Thanksgiving last week and they’re already putting up Christmas decorations. It gets earlier and earlier each year, doesn’t it? Sheesh.”

  “Thanksgiving? What’s there to be thankful for?” Basha rolled her eyes. “You know, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. We weren’t supposed to end up alone.” Basha took a sip of her gin. “I hate those goddamn greaseballs—every last one of them. May they all be gunned down!”

  Evelyn nodded. “May they all rot in hell!” She had the victim role down.

  I couldn’t look at Evelyn for fear she’d read my face. She knew about Tony. Though she’d never said a word, she knew. She knew. And if any of the others had known I was involved with a member of the South Side Gang it would have been the end of me.

  I opened my menu and closed it again. I couldn’t eat. My stomach was in knots. I wasn’t just two-timing my husband; I was two-timing my girlfriends and the entire North Side Gang.

  This affair was exhausting. I was tired of saying I was with the girls when I was at the Plymouth Hotel. And because Tony would get jealous over Shep, I’d tell him I was with my mother when I was at home with Shep. I didn’t know what I was doing with Tony. Some days, like that morning, I couldn’t get enough of him. But other times I knew it wasn’t worth the risk.

  With each passing day, I had a sinking feeling that I was going to get caught. But still, I couldn’t bring myself to end it with Tony. Each time I tried, I grew weak. In so many ways he knew me better than Shep. He knew my darkest, blackest secrets—things that would have turned Shep away from me. Maybe I deserved a cheater like Tony after all. I knew I didn’t deserve Shep.

  • • •

  It was two days before Christmas when we got the news. Three months into her pregnancy and Dora lost the baby. Evelyn and I went to see her, bringing her flowers and magazines, hoping to cheer her up.

  When Knuckles answered the door, we were shocked. Their usually pristine house was cluttered with newspapers, dirty dishes, laundry strewn about the sofa and chairs. Their Christmas tree was in the corner waiting to be trimmed, the floor covered with boxes of bulbs and a tangle of lights.

  Knuckles looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Warning us, he said, “She’s in a bad way. I can’t even talk to her.”

  While Evelyn went into the kitchen to wash the dishes and straighten up, I ventured into the bedroom. I sat on the edge of the bed, but couldn’t get Dora to look at me. She stared straight ahead. It was the first time I’d ever seen her without any makeup. Her skin was pale; her lips were thin and chapped. I was surprised by how young and innocent she looked.

  “The doctor said you’re going to be fine. You can try again. You’re still young enough.”

  She turned to me in anger, her blue eyes rimmed with tears. “Easy for you to say! You still have your baby. I never even got to hold mine!” She rolled over with her back toward me. “Go away,” she said. “You’re the last person I want to see right now. Just leave me alone.”

  I reached out to stroke her shoulder but stopped myself. She didn’t want me there. That was clear. There was nothing I could say to take away her pain and apparently my very presence was making it worse.

  I eased up off the bed and showed myself out. She didn’t stir. I wasn’t even sure if she knew I was gone.

  After we left Dora and Knuckles, Evelyn and I made our way over to State Street. Snow was falling, turning downtown Chicago white and picturesque. It was beautiful with all the storefronts decorated in their garlands and twinkling lights. Christmas carolers stood on the street corner, their voices trailing behind us as we cut over to Washington.

  As Evelyn and I pushed through the revolving door, a store greeter in his red vest welcomed us to Marshall Field’s. We dusted snow off our coats and stomped the slush free from our boots before heading to the glove display.

  Evelyn stuffed her hands inside a pair joined at the wrist by a string. “Ooh, these are nice. Irwin would love these.” She’d started seeing Irwin just a few weeks before, and already she was smitten. “Oh, or look at these!” She held up another pair. “Before I forget, do you and Shep want to join us for dinner Saturday night? Irwin wanted me to ask you.”

  “Yeah. Sure. I have to check with Shep, but it sounds swell.” I moved over to the scarves. “So this is getting serious with you and Irwin, huh?”

  “Isn’t it crazy?” She beamed. “What is it about me and men whose names start with the letter I?”

  I paused over a blue satin scarf. This was the first time I’d heard Evelyn make even the slightest reference to Izzy.

  “I’m just head over heels about Irwin. I love him, Vera. I really do. And not like before. This time it’s real.”

 
; I smiled and squeezed her hand. “He’s a good man. He truly is. Too bad he’s in such a lousy business.”

  “Making brassieres?”

  I gave her a look. “I meant his other business.”

  “Oh.” Evelyn frowned and set one hand on her hip. “So I’ve been thinking. . . .”

  “What about?”

  “Well, you know, I trust Irwin. I trust him in ways I never trusted Izzy. And I think it’s important that Irwin knows he can trust me, too. So . . . I’ve decided that I can’t have any secrets from him.”

  “What do you mean by secrets?”

  “You know,” she said, drumming her fingertips along the countertop. “I want to come clean.”

  “About?”

  “You know what about.”

  “Evelyn!” I could feel my eyes bulging out of their sockets. “Are you crazy?”

  “How am I supposed to have an honest relationship with him if I’ve got this huge secret between us? It’s been eating me up alive. I need to get this off my chest.”

  “Ev—”

  “He loves me—he’ll understand.”

  “Have you lost your mind?” I tossed the scarf onto the counter and pulled her aside. “You can’t tell Irwin. You can’t tell anyone. Not ever!”

  “But he’ll understand. He really loves me.”

  “I don’t care how much he loves you. Listen to me.” I grabbed her hands and forced her to look me in the eye. “Those guys—our men—they may love us, but their number one priority—their number one loyalty—is to each other. You can’t come clean to Irwin without dragging me into this. How do you think it’s going to sit with him that you killed one of his best friends?”

  “It was an accident. Self-defense. You said so yourself.”

  “You think that’s going to matter to them? And what exactly are you going to tell Irwin when he asks what you did with Izzy’s body?”

  “I don’t know . . . I could—”

  “Are you prepared to tell Irwin that a member of the South Side Gang helped you and me? You’re going to drag me into this! You can’t do that. I helped you—you can’t turn around and ruin my life. Shep doesn’t know anything about Tony Liolli.”

  Evelyn looked like I’d just smacked her. “Okay, okay—I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking of it like that.”

  “No, you sure weren’t!”

  “I get it. Okay. I won’t tell him. I promise. But don’t forget, Shep was away when it happened. And besides, it’s not like you’re still seeing Tony.” She looked at me and I watched her expression change. “Oh my God! Vera, are you still seeing him? You’re not, are you?”

  My eyes glazed over. “God, no. What do you think I am, crazy?”

  A NEW YEAR’S RESOLUTION

  Dora and I sat side by side at the beauty parlor, waiting to have our nails done. It was the first time I’d seen her since she’d lost the baby. We’d gone for coffee earlier and then wandered through a couple stores. I kept expecting her to apologize for what she’d said that day in her bedroom but it never came up.

  “What’s taking them so damn long?” I asked, watching one beautician scurrying about with a basket of curlers and another picking up a handful of bobby pins she’d dropped on the floor near us.

  “Relax. Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve. Every place in town is packed. What’s your hurry?”

  “Nothing.” I eased back in my chair and crossed my legs, letting my top one swing back and forth. “I just have a lot of errands to run.” I didn’t have any errands. I was late. Tony was expecting me at his hotel at two o’clock and it was already a quarter past.

  “I know we always go to the Palmer House for New Year’s Eve, but I’d love to skip the party this year,” she said.

  “Is Basha going?”

  “No. Neither is Viola. Or Cecilia.”

  “It’s been a rough year for everyone, hasn’t it?” I said.

  “You can say that again. At least you’ve got Shep back home now. But for the rest of us, what the hell is there to celebrate? Good riddance to 1928. . . .”

  I gazed at the photographs on the wall opposite us: one of a woman with a shingle bob, one with an Eton crop and one with a finger hairdo. All the while I was thinking about Tony. I hadn’t seen him in more than two weeks. He’d been in New York the week before, and now Capone wanted him down in Florida after New Year’s.

  “Boy, are you ever fidgety today,” she said, placing her hand on my knee to stop my leg from swinging. “What’s eating you?”

  “Me? Nothing.” I shook my head and willed my leg to stay put. “I’ve got a lot on my mind is all.” I thought about Tony, waiting for me in his hotel room, wondering what was keeping me. “I’ll be right back,” I said, bolting out of my chair. “I just have to make a quick call.”

  The front of the salon was crowded with women draped in dark capes, sitting in a row of swivel chairs, waiting to be shampooed or cut or dyed. Others had their heads tucked inside the drying machines or hooked up to the permanent-wave contraptions. The air smelled of perfume, borax, setting lotions and nail polish remover. I made my way over to a dainty desk with a telephone reserved for clients. Another woman was sitting in the sweetheart chair, already on the line, confirming her plans for New Year’s Eve at the Blackstone Hotel. I folded my arms across my chest and tapped my foot, glancing around to make sure I didn’t recognize anyone standing nearby. As soon as the telephone was free, I sat down and dialed. The line was ringing and I anxiously looked around the beauty parlor until finally the front desk answered.

  “Plymouth Hotel.”

  “Can you please put me through to Tony Liolli’s room . . . room eight twenty-seven. . . . Yes. Liolli with an L.” I was waiting to be connected when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned and my heart clamped down.

  Dora was standing over me. Her blue eyes narrowed as she studied my face. “They’re ready for us now,” she said.

  “Oh. Okay. Swell.” I tried to keep my voice steady and hung up, barely able to get the receiver placed back on the hook, my hands were shaking so. It was noisy in the beauty parlor and it was possible that Dora hadn’t overheard me asking for Tony Liolli.

  She walked away and I followed her into the private room where they took care of special customers like us.

  As soon as we were inside, Dora turned to me. “Liolli? Tony Liolli? Dear God, tell me he’s not the errand you need to run this afternoon.”

  I closed my eyes and cursed under my breath.

  “Spill it, Vera. What the hell are you up to?”

  “Dora, please.” I still couldn’t look at her.

  “Uh-uh. Something’s going on and you’d better tell me what it is.”

  I tried stalling again, but Dora pressed harder. “Okay,” I said, finally letting my eyes meet hers, “but you can’t tell anyone.”

  She gave me an indignant glare. “Who am I going to tell?”

  “Just promise me.”

  Two beauticians appeared in the doorway with their nail files and polish. Dora shooed them away. “And close the door behind you.” Turning back to me, she said, “I promise. I swear I won’t tell anyone. Now spill it.”

  I lowered my head to my hands, perspiring. I could feel Dora’s eyes on me, wearing me down.

  “I mean it,” she said. “Tell me what the hell’s going on.”

  I felt myself cracking, slipping, the words rising up in me like bile.

  “Vera!”

  “Oh, Dora,” I blurted out, “I’m in love.”

  “What!”

  “I’m in love. I’m in love with him.” I held my breath, waiting for something awful to happen. Shouldn’t the sky have fallen? Shouldn’t the earth have given way beneath me?

  “You’re in love with Tony Liolli?” Dora’s mouth dropped open. She leaned back in her chair looking like she’d just had the wind knocked out of her. “Aw, Jesus! Tell me you’re not serious.”

  “I love him, Dora. I do.”

  “Oh, honey, you gotta end it. Yo
u can’t be fooling around with Tony Liolli. That guy’s a loose cannon. He’s trouble with a capital T. And you’d better hope he keeps his trap shut. If it gets out about you and him, you’ll both be six feet under. You should know better. You’re Shep Green’s wife. You can’t be two-timing him with one of Capone’s men. Jesus, Vera, use your head. Who else knows about this?”

  I thought of Evelyn. “No one. God, I’ve never told anyone. You’re not going to say anything, are you?”

  “What? And get myself killed, too? Not only am I not gonna say anything, I’m gonna forget you even told me about it. And what you’re gonna do is end it with Liolli, you got that?”

  I nodded and pressed my fingers to my temples. My head was pounding.

  “You know what kills me,” said Dora, pursing her lips, her voice taking on a definite edge. “You have everything. A loving husband, a beautiful, healthy daughter, and you’re willing to piss it all away on some greaseball who probably whacked half your husband’s best friends.”

  “I know it’s wrong. I know it doesn’t make any sense.”

  “So you are gonna end it with him, right?”

  I nodded, barely able to breathe, knowing that I’d just made the worst mistake of my life.

  • • •

  I left Dora and on one of the coldest days of the year I decided to walk. Block after block, with no destination in mind, I wandered, heading north, oblivious to the automobiles and trolley cars whirling past me. I stepped into an intersection and a driver blasted his horn and skidded to a stop, missing me by less than half a foot. I kept walking, drifting along Michigan Avenue past the Wrigley Building, the Tribune Tower and onward past the pumping stations housed inside the water towers that looked like stone castles.