Dollface

by Renée Rosen

  When I could no longer feel my toes or my fingers, I stepped inside the Drake to warm myself. The footman held the door for me as the luxury of the grand hotel welcomed me inside.

  Entering the marble lobby, I passed by the bellhops and chambermaids and handsomely dressed couples walking along the corridor. It took me back to my first visit to the Drake, the night I modeled jewelry for Mr. Borowitz. I’d so desperately wanted to be in that world of glitz and glamour. I got glitz and glamour, all right, but I also got gore and carnage. I had escaped the rotting stink of the slaughterhouse, the blood and guts of the kill floor, and look where I’d run to. I’d landed in the middle of a world that was far more violent than the Union Stock Yards.

  I kept walking and came to the spot where years before I’d first met Shep Green. That night it was Shep who had stepped in to save me from Mr. Borowitz. And in a way, he’d been saving me ever since. How could I have betrayed him like this?

  Maybe it was a good thing that Dora found out about Tony. Maybe it would force me to do the right thing. God, I was tired of it all. It used to be the anticipation that made me hunger for Tony. Before the hotel door was even locked, we’d be devouring each other until my body shook and my throat was raw from crying out. Then I was empty, the lust and desire all burned out of me only to start slowly gathering strength again the minute I left him. That was the pattern, but now it had been interrupted. Tony had been out of town so much lately that already things had changed between us. At first the separation was excruciating but now it was a dull ache, fading more and more the longer I’d stayed away from him.

  Standing in the hotel lobby, I felt as if a switch had been thrown and the lights were all on. I could see now that Tony had become a habit I’d grown addicted to. I’d loved Tony once—of that I was certain—but not anymore. I hadn’t realized this until that very moment.

  I went to a phone booth and rang his hotel. “I can’t make it over there today,” I said, leaning my forehead against the glass panel, feeling the coolness spread across my skin. “...Yeah, sure, I’ll see you when you get back. . . .” I hung up and wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. These weren’t tears of heartache. They were tears of relief.

  THE KISS OF DEATH

  It was a Wednesday afternoon, February 13, the day before Valentine’s Day. I passed by a store window filled with red hearts and strings of cupids stretched from one end to the other. It was cold outside, the temperature dipping down into the teens. The ground was frozen, the snow was old and dirty now, and even if a fresh inch or two fell and covered it up, you’d always know what was lying below the surface.

  Dora asked about Tony only one other time. All she said was, “Did you take care of that problem of yours?”

  I looked her right in the eye and said, “Yes.”

  But I hadn’t ended it with Tony. And not because I didn’t want to. But because I hadn’t seen him. Tony had been down in Florida for most of January and when he was back in town for a few days, I made excuses, afraid that if I saw him, I’d lose my nerve. But I was ready now.

  A chill swept through the air and I turned up my collar. I boarded the southbound el train and rode it down to the Fifteenth Street stop, just a few blocks away from the Plymouth Hotel.

  When I keyed into the hotel room, I was surprised that Tony wasn’t there, especially since he knew I was coming over. I sat on the side of the bed, waiting for him. I had my compact out, passing the mirror over my face. I looked like hell. My eyes were bloodshot, my skin was gray and my expression was sad even when I forced a smile. I used to shine, like I was something special. How did I get to look so old at twenty-three?

  I heard someone out in the hallway. I looked up, expecting Tony to come through the door, but whoever it was kept walking. I lit a cigarette and helped myself to the bourbon he kept stashed in the bottom of the nightstand. With my drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other, I lay back against the pillows, knowing that this was the last time I’d ever be in his bed.

  After I finished my cigarette, Tony showed up. He was wearing a pin-striped suit, a wide-brimmed hat and white leather spats with black buttons. He was suntanned from being down in Florida and looked every bit as handsome as he had the first time I’d seen him at the Five Star. But still, something inside me had shifted. And he could sense it.

  I sat up on the side of the bed when he kissed me. “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” I said, watching him toss his hat onto the dresser.

  He came over and sat beside me, placing his hand over mine. “There’s something I gotta say first, though. You have to hear me out.” He reached for a cigarette, lit it and chucked the burning match into the ashtray. I waited, holding my breath, while he drew a deep puff. “I did a lot of thinking while I was away.” He got up, poured a couple drinks and handed one to me. “I love you, Vera. I want you with me. Not just for a few hours here and there. But every day, you and me.”

  “Tony, that’s what I need to talk to you a—”

  “I’m getting out of the rackets. For real this time. No more talk. I’m gonna leave town and start over. And I want you to come with me.”

  “What?” I was there to end it, not run away with him. “I can’t go with you.”

  He shook his head, sending that strand of hair onto his forehead. “You. Me. Hannah—we’ll hop a train, or we’ll jump in the car and head to Mexico and we can start over. We’ll hide out in Tijuana or Mexico City. No one’ll find us there.”

  “I can’t leave Shep. You know that.”

  He took a pull from his drink and fixed his eyes on me. “I’m gonna tell you something. And you can’t say a word—not to anyone—you understand? If I didn’t hate Capone—if I had a shred of loyalty left for him—and if I didn’t love you as much as I do, I wouldn’t be telling you this. And if you breathe a word of this, I’m a dead man, you got that?”

  I took a long sip from my drink.

  “When I was down in Florida with Capone, I was let in on some business, and it has to do with Bugs Moran and Shep.”

  “What?”

  “He had someone contact Bugs and Shep—they think they’ve got a lorry of whiskey coming to their garage on Clark Street tomorrow morning. And as soon as they show up, Capone’s gonna take them out. Both of them.”

  I looked at him in shock, trying to make sense of what he’d just said. “What? Why Shep?”

  “Why? Because, next to Bugs Moran, the one person Capone wants dead is your husband.”

  “What are you saying?” My voice was cracking. “I don’t understand—why? Why is he going to kill Shep?”

  “I can’t tell you any more than what I already have.” He got up and paced like a madman. “Jesus, I’m talking way the hell out of school, do you get that?”

  I just stared at him, still in shock.

  “You gotta keep your mouth shut about this, Vera. I mean it.”

  “How can you expect me to keep my mouth shut? You just told me they’re going to kill my husband and you expect me not to say anything?”

  He came over to my side, grabbed my chin and forced my eyes to meet his. “If anyone knew I was telling you this, they’d kill me. You want that?”

  I sat on the edge of the bed, resting my head against the heels of my hands.

  “I mean it, Vera. The only reason I’m telling you is because I’m leaving town and I want to take you with me. And I don’t wanna scare you, but I don’t think you should stick around town anyway. Somebody connects the two of us and you’re as good as gone. You’re a traitor in their eyes. And it won’t just be the South Siders after you—the North Siders’ll probably wipe you out before Capone’s boys even get a chance.”

  I couldn’t breathe. I started rocking back and forth, cradling my head in my hands.

  Tony came over and crouched down before me, taking hold of both my hands. “I gotta take care of a few things and then we can go. I can pick you up in the morning and we’ll be gone.”

  I shook my head. I cou
ldn’t think.

  “You gotta come with me. It’s the only way. We’ll get out of town and we’ll do it now.”

  I pressed my fingertips against my eyes. They burned. My shoulders ached. Everything ached. I kept my eyes closed. I couldn’t look at Tony.

  “Listen to me—Shep’s going down—you can’t save him. Shep’s got a hit coming, and that makes you a widow.”

  “This is all happening too fast.”

  “We don’t have a choice. So here’s what we’re gonna do. Tomorrow morning, when Shep leaves for the garage, I’ll swing by your house. I’ll come get you and Hannah and we’ll be on our way.”

  I opened my eyes and looked away. How could I not tell Shep he was in danger? Yet if I said anything, if I even hinted, he’d know that someone had told me. Even if I didn’t serve up Tony’s name, he’d figure it out. The cigar man, hotel clerks, the Four Deuces barkeeper, Dora, even Evelyn—they all flashed through my mind. It wouldn’t take long to find the trail that led from me to Tony. I needed time to think but there was no time. I doubled over, feeling like I’d swallowed snakes. I covered my mouth with both hands. The chills took over my body as I rocked back and forth.

  Tony grabbed me by the shoulders, trying to hold me still. “Say you’ll do it. Tell me you’ll come with me.”

  I couldn’t answer. I could barely breathe. I didn’t know what I was going to do the next minute, let alone the next morning.

  He asked again if I’d come with him. When I didn’t respond he said, “It’s gonna be okay. I promise you. You gotta trust me on this, okay? You do trust me, don’t you?”

  I nodded. My head was spinning. If I told Shep about the hit, they’d kill Tony. If I didn’t say anything, they’d kill Shep. There was no way out of this.

  • • •

  When I left the hotel, I was light-headed and shaky. People on the streets went about their business as if everything were normal, but I knew the world was about to end. At least, for me it was.

  I walked nine or ten blocks in the bitter cold. I didn’t know if I could run away with Tony, but I did know that I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t warn Shep. I picked up my pace, flagged down a cab. I had him take me straight to Schofield’s.

  “Shep? Shep?” I barged into the flower shop, panting as if I’d run the whole way. It was dark inside, and after the bright winter light outside I was blinded. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw a couple of the Little Pishers looking up from their card game in back. I couldn’t make out their faces.

  “He’s not here,” one of them said.

  “Where is he? Did he say when he’d be back?”

  The boy shrugged. “I don’t know nothin’. Sorry.”

  I raced home after that, but Shep wasn’t there, either. After I sent the housekeeper home, I telephoned Dora. “Can you watch Hannah for me?”

  “What’s wrong?” Dora asked as soon as she heard my voice. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.” I didn’t know what was going to happen when I told Shep, but I knew I didn’t want Hannah home to witness it. I cleared my throat, steadied my voice. “It would be a big help if Hannah could stay with you tonight.”

  Before we left the house, I brushed Hannah’s hair aside and studied her face. She was so young, just four years old, the same age I was when my father was killed. I couldn’t let that happen to her.

  When I dropped Hannah off, Dora stood in the doorway wearing an apron, holding a wooden spoon in her hand. “Is everything okay? You don’t look so good, Vera. Come inside and let’s talk. Something’s up, I can tell.”

  “It’s nothing. Really.” I forced a smile. I couldn’t tell her. She already knew too much as it was. “I’m just in a hurry,” I said, pointing back to the cab idling at the curb. “The driver’s waiting for me.” I kissed Hannah and started to walk away.

  “Vera, wait!”

  I froze in place for a minute but couldn’t turn back. “I have to go. I’m late.”

  “Vera—Vera, come back here.”

  I heard her footsteps on the sidewalk coming after me, but I kept walking and was back inside the cab before she could stop me.

  When I got home, Shep still wasn’t there. I poured myself a drink and smoked a cigarette, rehearsing what I’d say when he came through the door. I knew Tony said there was nothing I could do to stop Capone, but Shep was smart—he’d find a way out. But he had to know what he was walking into.

  The sun had gone down and daylight had left the room hours before. I sat in the dark, hardly stirring at all. Even after I’d spilled half my drink down the front of my dress, I sat and finished what was in my glass. I didn’t get up again until it was time to fix myself the next drink, light the next cigarette. At seven o’clock I called Schofield’s but they still hadn’t seen Shep.

  “Will you tell him I need to speak with him? Tell him it’s important,” I said.

  A few hours later I called again, but the line was busy. I telephoned every five minutes until I finally got through, but there was no answer. The phone just rang and rang.

  I turned on a lamp and looked at the clock. It was half past eleven. Where was Shep? And what was I supposed to do now? I knew that as soon as I told Shep about the Capone hit, my life would never be the same. Shep had a better chance of dodging his killers than I had of saving my marriage. There was a good chance he’d throw me out of the house. What would I do then? Get Hannah and then what? Where would we go? Would I call Tony and tell him to come get us? Could I really do that? Run away with Tony? Forever?

  I went upstairs to the bedroom and sat on the side of the bed, thinking that I should have had the housekeeper turn the mattress. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had her do that. With everything else on my mind, turning the mattress became a concern. It was a problem I knew how to solve.

  I slipped out of my dress and slung it over the back of the chair. I wandered into the bathroom, going through the motions as I slathered cold cream onto my face, deliberately not looking in the mirror. I couldn’t bear to look into my own eyes. I crawled into bed and lay there, staring at the ceiling, rehearsing what I’d say to Shep. The hardest part was knowing where to start.

  I dozed off and when I opened my eyes it was half past three. Shep still wasn’t home. The sheets were cold when I slid my hand over to his side. Most wives would have worried that their husband was with another woman, but not me. I never doubted Shep’s fidelity. Shep Green was a good man and I couldn’t have said that for the others, even his beloved Dion O’Banion. Sometimes I thought Shep should have let Dion take his sins with him to his grave. I knew I was being superstitious, but I wished Shep had never eaten that sin cake. And I wished I had never been involved in Izzy’s murder.

  A tear trailed down my cheek and landed on my lips. I rolled onto my side and begged God for forgiveness. Then I prayed for a miracle.

  MY VALENTINE

  When I woke up the next morning, the sheets on Shep’s side of the bed were still untouched. His robe was hanging on the back of the closet door. He never made it home last night, and all I could think was, It’s already happened. Shep’s dead. Capone killed him.

  I looked at the bedside clock; it was half past eight. I threw off the covers and reached for the same dress I’d worn the day before. It was where I’d left it on the chair. I got dressed and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I looked like hell. A crease had formed across my cheek from the pillowcase. My dress was wrinkled and stained from the drink I’d spilled on it.

  As I reached for the door, Shep surprised me, coming into the bedroom with his hands behind his back.

  “Oh, you’re home! Thank God!” I splayed my open fingers across my pounding heart. I went to throw my arms around him and he presented me with a bouquet of roses.

  “For you!” he said.

  “For me? Why?” I looked at him, confused.

  “Valentine’s Day, Dollface. Today’s Valentine’s Day.” His tone was off. Or maybe it was me who was o
ff.

  I thanked him and mumbled something about putting the flowers in water. I headed out of the bedroom with him close on my heels, following me down the stairs and into the kitchen. I knew I had to tell him about Capone, but I didn’t know where to start. I still didn’t know what those first few words should be.

  “You were out all night,” I said, keeping my eyes on the roses. “That’s not like you. I was worried. Where were you?”

  “You really want to know where I was all night?” He leaned against the counter, watching me reach for a vase. His tone of voice was odd. “I’ll tell you where I was. I was out looking for your boyfriend.”

  I nearly dropped the vase. “My what?” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I was ashamed that my first impulse was to deny it.

  “Your boyfriend. Liolli. Tony Liolli.” Shep had thunder in his voice.

  I tried but couldn’t look at him. My heart raced and my hands shook as I stuffed the roses inside a vase that was too small. Some of the petals came off, falling onto the counter.

  “You want to tell me why Knuckles knows about this and I don’t?”

  Dora! I squeezed my eyes shut. I knew it. My worst fear: Dora had told Knuckles. Shep moved in closer and I flinched, blocking my face with my hands.

  “What’s the matter, Vera? You scared of me? You think I’m gonna hurt you?” He was back in control. His voice now had an eerie calmness to it.

  “Shep . . .” My chin trembled. I was already crying, looking at him through a blur of tears.

  “Oh, I’m not going to hurt you—you don’t need to worry your pretty little head about that.”

  “Shep”—I was panting as I spoke—“you’re in trouble—Capone’s after you.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know. Like tell me what the hell’s going on with you and that scumbag Liolli?”