Whistling in the Dark

by Tamara Allen

  "I'll wash 'em." Ox disappeared around the corner, for a ladder, Sutton assumed.

  "While we have the awnings down," Harry said, "we ought to call over the movers and haul that piano upstairs."

  Jack's smile vanished. "I guess we can do that."

  There it was again, that doubt, and Sutton had to know where it came from. "You do want me to keep playing?"

  "If he don't want you, I might hire you." Ned Hennessy stepped out of a cab, smart in both attire and attitude. "That is, after I've got this place looking like the cabaret it was meant to be."

  If Ned was smug, Jack was altogether cool and triumphant. "Guess you haven't talked to Mrs. Madigan."

  "I talked to Barchis. You got one up on me, Jackie boy. Pretty good, too. I sure never thought you fellows would get the nerve to go straight to old lady Madigan--"

  "Watch your mouth," Harry said. "Show a little respect."

  "I beg your pardon," Ned said, lifting his hat. "Dear Mrs. Madigan, if you will. So I'm in a little trouble, Barchis figures." He turned back to Jack. "I ain't the only one."

  "Jack's not involved in anything illegal," Sutton said.

  "No?" Ned stepped to the sidewalk, one hand resting on a gold-tipped cane in a gesture reminiscent of Marshall Chase. "You boys think you'll stay in business when your neighbors know there's queers keeping house right next door? Think folks'll come in, or listen to your little radio show?" His gaze shifted to Sutton. "Don't think I'd hire you after all. Wouldn't want anyone taking the place for some kind of fairy joint."

  Jack's smile sent a shiver up Sutton's spine.

  "Watch out for the plate glass, will you?" Harry said with a resigned note.

  The punch Jack landed sent Ned staggering off the sidewalk. Ned had barely regained his balance when Jack crashed into him and they hit the ground with a violence that made Sutton flinch. Ned tried to get up and Jack knocked him back with a right that bloodied his nose. People passing slowed to watch. Ned latched on to Jack's shirt with one fist and swung with the other. Jack ducked the worst of it but the glancing blow had enough weight behind it to knock him down.

  "Jack!" Sutton started toward them only to be brought up short by Harry on one side, Ox on the other. He turned to Harry in desperation. "You can't let this go on. Ned's bigger--"

  "Yeah, but Jack's a whole lot madder."

  Jack, back on his feet, shoved Ned hard enough to send him into the gathering crowd. It went on for some minutes while the crowd grew more vocal and Harry refused to relinquish his grip on Sutton's arm.

  Jack started for Ned again and Ned warded him away with upraised hands. "Enough," he said, gasping for breath. "Jack, you're insane. You son of a bitch."

  "My home," Jack said, breathing as hard. "My shop. And as for your dad's loan, that was paid back with the help my folks gave you after he was locked up. You son of a bitch."

  "You're a goddamned fool." Ned spat blood on the road and licked a swollen lip. "Just like your dad--" Jack started for him and Ned backed off. "Stay here in this shithole of a neighborhood and spend your days rotting with all the junk you can't sell. I've got better things to do. And I sure got better places to be."

  "Don't run off too fast. Someone else wants to say good-bye."

  Woody waddled with an air of purpose down the sidewalk. At the sight of him, the crowd scattered, but he paid them no attention. His dedicated focus was not lost on Ned, who turned and fled for the nearest passing cab. Woody scrabbled after, until Ox found the presence of mind to snatch up the paint tarp and capture him.

  - Forty-Five -

  Slowed by congratulatory handshakes and a few slaps on the back, Jack made it to the sidewalk. He grinned, then winced, gingerly touching his face. "Think he'll tell the whole world now?"

  "I wouldn't bet on it," Harry said, looking over the bruise blooming on Jack's cheek. He whistled. "Damn, Jackie. He got you good."

  "I got him better."

  "Are you all right?" Sutton offered him a handkerchief. "Nothing broken?"

  "Nothing to kick about." Jack dabbed at the cut that ran along his jaw. "Bothered you, huh?"

  "Well--"

  "Heard you yell." Jack looked apologetic. "And I know you've had it with fighting."

  "I suppose it couldn't be helped." Sutton pushed Jack's hand away and, taking the handkerchief, pressed it to the cut. "I find it hard to believe you two were ever friends."

  "More like accomplices. He was full of ideas for getting into trouble--worse than me," Jack said and laughed at Sutton's raised eyebrows. His hand slipped around Sutton's wrist and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks for pulling for me."

  "Always." Sutton smiled and gave him the handkerchief. "I'll go to the corner for some iodine."

  Jack hung on. "There's some upstairs."

  Sutton saw his expression shift from ebullient to something else altogether. "Upstairs?"

  Jack nodded. "Want me to show you where?"

  "That would be a help--" Sutton stopped as a cheerful voice cried his name, and his heart lurched in astonished recognition. "Mary?" He turned and there she was, hurrying along the sidewalk, garbed in her favorite blue, her hat the usual frills, the face beneath bright with sisterly affection. She threw her arms around him and they tottered in a circle as Sutton returned the ferocious hug.

  "Darling old baby," she exclaimed, pressing a kiss on his cheek. "My, how good you look, dear! Let me see." Her gloved hands in his, she drew back to take him in. "Yes, you do. New York hasn't dissipated you at all. And Phillip was so sure it would."

  Ignoring the awakened ache in his shoulder, he beamed at her. "You look quite all right, too."

  Her gaze narrowed at the old tease and gave him a push. "I won't forgive you for that or for not writing us but twice in all the time you've been gone. I shouldn't forgive you, but I'm so happy to see you, I can't be mad."

  "I'm glad you're not." Sutton looked past her to the disquieting presence of his father at the curb, talking to the cab driver. "I think you're the only one."

  "Don't be anxious," Mary said, lowering her voice. "He's not really mad, dear. He's just been worried. We all have." Her hand moved over the shoulder of his coat, she drew the lapel aside, and her smile disappeared. "You're hurt?"

  "I'm all right." He braced himself at his father's approach. Despite Mary's assertion, Sutton saw no sign of worry in the blue eyes, just the assessing glitter that made even those people who didn't know Phillip Albright treat him with exceptional deference. But the temples were grayer than Sutton recalled, the face tired and more lined, even though it had only been a couple of months since Sutton had last been home.

  He held out his hand and his father briefly clasped it. "Sutton." The dubious note was still there. "You look well. This is where you've been living?"

  "Yes, sir. And working. My employer, Jack Bailey." Sutton turned to Jack, who was taking it all in with a dubious air of his own. "Jack, this is my father, Phillip Albright, and my sister, Mary."

  Jack thrust out a hand. "Mr. Albright. Mary," he greeted with a grin. "Care to come in and take a look around?"

  His father studied Jack. "You appear to have run into a bit of trouble, sir."

  "Nothing to worry over," Jack said. "Just an unwelcome visitor I had to show the door."

  "I see. I hope we are welcome, then."

  Sutton watched them shake hands and felt as though he'd become lost in some peculiar dream, because it couldn't be real. "Mother and Phillip--they didn't come?"

  "Your mother and I weren't certain where to find you. They're waiting for us at the hotel. I allowed Mary to come only when she promised me she would remain in the taxi," he said with a reproving glance at her.

  Mary took his arm and smiled. "Oh, Father, I couldn't help it. When I saw him, I just had to go."

  "I've missed you, too." Sutton caught her hand. "I've missed all of you." He met his father's eyes. "You've heard the radio program?"

  "I have--after being informed of its existence by a clerk in the downtown off
ice."

  A sinking feeling he hadn't known for a long while returned. "I'm sorry about that." Maybe he could repair the damage. "I'm performing Friday evening at the Plaza. If you'll still be in town--"

  "We will," Mary said. "Won't we, Father?"

  "We leave Saturday evening. I'd like you to come back to the hotel with us. Your mother is anxious to see you."

  Sutton cast a furtive glance at Jack, offering a silent apology.

  "I suppose you want the rest of the day off," Jack said.

  Sutton's father answered for him. "Forgive our unannounced arrival, Mr. Bailey. We do not mean to inconvenience you. It's just that we had quite given up hope of an invitation."

  "It's Jack. And you've got an invitation now. Come by any time and I'll be happy to show you around the neighborhood, if you like."

  "Very gracious of you, sir."

  As his father and sister went back to the taxi, Sutton turned to Jack. "If they want me to stay over--"

  "Then stay. Don't worry. Just go, would you?"

  Jack gave him a push and Sutton went. It had all happened so swiftly, he was overwhelmed. His family felt like strangers, invading the place he had come to call home, and he was ill at ease. The two worlds wouldn't mesh. Already he sensed his father's disapproval of where he was living. Any explanation of his feelings for Jack would fall on ears thoroughly disinclined to hear it. The one inevitability would be his father's final decision on the matter--and the possibility that the decision, with no room for compromise, would cause things to become unpleasant quickly.

  As the cab motored into traffic, Sutton looked out the window, and his heart reached with terrible yearning for the lone figure still standing on the sidewalk, watching them go.

  - Forty-Six -

  The shelves in order and the sweeping done, Jack headed for the office with the last receipts. Passing the piano, he glanced at the sheet music open on the stand and recognized the song he and Sutton had played together. Most of Sutton's notations were a mystery, but the sight of the familiar script, so neat and careful, comforted.

  He wondered if Sutton was as blue without him. Putting the receipts aside, he sat and tried to play the song, but the chords eluded him.

  Harry appeared in the office doorway. "It's nearly ten."

  "I've got the receipts. Opal coming by for you?"

  "Yeah. You want to come with us?"

  Jack dredged up a faint grin. "And listen to you talk business while you're making eyes at each other?"

  Harry narrowed a look at him, one not as stern as usual. "What are you doing, then? Sutton's probably staying at the Plaza."

  "And from there to Kansas." Jack plunked a bass note that suited his mood. "Maybe I'll hoof it to Topeka."

  "You'd stand it all of ten minutes. Look, let me reschedule with Opal--"

  The ringing telephone launched Jack off the bench and into the office. Central crisply informed him that Mr. Albright was trying to reach him.

  "Jack?"

  Sutton missed him. He could hear it. "Hi ya, Mabel. Bunking at the Plaza?"

  "Yes. I just wanted to let you know." The hesitancy in his voice suggested eavesdroppers. "I won't be in tomorrow--"

  "Or Friday either, I guess."

  "Likely not." Sutton's affection showed through, even with others listening in. He fell quiet, then softly, "Jack--"

  "I miss you, too." Jack let out a breath. "Can you change that dressing on your own?"

  "My brother will," Sutton said. Voices came through in the background and he replied to them.

  Jack realized they were going out. "Where are you off to?"

  "Dinner with an old friend of Father's. Jack--I've got to run, all right?"

  "All right. I just wanted to--" The line was quiet and his heart sank. "Hello?"

  He thought Sutton had hung up. Then Sutton's voice came through, for his ears alone. "Be bright and cheery, my honey, do."

  That hoary old song again. Jack grinned, despite the lump in his throat. As he cradled the receiver, he heard, outside the office, Opal's sweet laugh and Harry's gruff one. A good blend. He pulled himself together and came out of the office all smiles. "Sutton will be by in a minute. I'll close up, Harry. You go on."

  "Yeah? You and Sutton are welcome to come with us--"

  "Sit through a business supper when we could go to the club?" Jack rolled his eyes. Maybe Harry was a little nervous over the notion of dining alone with Opal. He needed a push. "Go on, go. You can give me the details later. You know, all the business details."

  Opal patted his cheek with soft gloved fingers. "You're a dear."

  Harry looked faintly suspicious. "Leave the receipts on the desk. And don't forget to shut off the lights."

  Jack was taking care of the receipts when the bell jangled again and he wondered if Harry had belatedly seen through him and was back to drag him to supper. He didn't dare hope for Sutton.

  Both ideas were squashed by the shrill, "Yoo hoo!" that rang through the shop. Jack wished he had remembered to lock the door. Then he wondered if Gert had eaten yet. She appeared around the aisle as he came out of the office. "I'm closing up," he said.

  "Yeah?" She looked around. "Where's your boyfriend?"

  "Out, with family. What do you want, Gertie?"

  "Well--" She smoothed her furs. "I just came by to tell you boys the news."

  Jack shut off the office light and closed the door. "Which would be?"

  "We're leaving Monday for California," Gert said with a bounce that set the feathers on her hat bobbing. "Me and Marshie. Oh, and Neddie, too."

  Jack choked on a laugh. "Marshie?"

  Gert winked. "Like you boys ain't just the same with the sweet talk. Anyway, I can sing Friday night, but after that, you'll have to get yourself a new bird. I'm going to be in pictures," she said with another little bounce. "Marshie says I'm cuter than Mary Pickford."

  "I'm sure he thinks so." Jack paused, realizing what she'd said. "Ned's going, too?"

  She shrugged. "Guess he figures he can hitch a ride on my rising star. He says he's had it with New York, since--" She stopped and cleared her throat, dimpling with a tiny smile. "Well, you know."

  He did. And with the law more attentive and the neighborhood still gossiping over Vance's death, Jack wondered if Chase's decision to leave town had more to do with keeping himself out of the spotlight than thrusting Gert into it. If Gert wondered, too, she wasn't letting on.

  Jack held out a hand. "If you get tired of being in pictures, you're always welcome back on the radio."

  She took his hand and her dimples deepened. "Marshie says I got more to offer the world than a great set of pipes--but if you figure a way to send pictures on the whatsit, give me a call."

  She started to go, but made it only a few steps before turning back. "Aw, hell. I'll miss you, Jackie." She flung her arms around him and for a moment Jack was enveloped in fur and perfume. After a peck on the cheek, she let him go and fished out a handkerchief to dab her eyes. "I've got to run, honey. Marshie's waiting."

  He didn't want to allow he might miss her just a little in return. He escorted her to the curb and as the familiar brougham roared into the night, he felt all over again that the world was tumbling along too rapidly for him to keep up and it was taking away everyone he cared about. Before the war, the world had been such a reliable haven, with problems that were patchable, endurable. Now...

  Well, if Sutton left, there was still Harry to keep him on the level--but perhaps not, if Harry fell for Opal. He'd leave, too, along with Ox and Esther after they wed.

  Shutting off the rest of the lights, Jack stepped out of the shop and locked the door. He thought of the delight in Sutton's eyes when Mary had rushed to hug him. And though there'd been no hug from his father, Sutton had looked wistful when they'd shaken hands. Jack supposed Sutton's reunion with his mother and brother had been much the same. And he felt fairly confident the Albrights did not intend to return to Topeka without their youngest in tow.

  Sut
ton would object, of course, and at twenty-two, he was more than old enough to call his soul his own. If his family forced him to choose, he might make the rash decision to cut all ties--and look to Jack to help him.

  Twenty-two was a rotten age to forever lose the people who sheltered and supported a fellow. The people who accepted him with all his flaws and understood--well, tried to understand him.

  The people who loved him.

  He couldn't hope the Albrights would understand. And he couldn't encourage Sutton to choose. Maybe his own loss had been beyond his means to control, but Sutton's wasn't.

  Jack went upstairs, passing up the leftovers in the icebox and all notion of going out on the town. He crawled into bed, pulling the quilt tight around him. He had been learning how to sleep again and he couldn't let that fall apart just because he might soon be sleeping alone.

  And he tried, through each slow-passing hour of darkness, until the first light grayed his room--and, as it had through the war, exhaustion returned, the bridge over which he once again crossed into sleep.

  - Forty-Seven -

  Jack woke to Harry shaking him gently. Sleepy, he noticed Harry's glance at the bedside table. Jack shook his head. "Didn't drink." His growling stomach reminded him he hadn't eaten, either.

  "It's nearly eleven," Harry said. "You just come home and go to bed?"

  "Eleven in the morning?" That woke him a little more. "God, I'm sorry, Harry. It just took me so long to get some shut-eye."

  "I was worried you'd gone out last night--" Harry fell silent, then patted him on the shoulder. "It's been a brisk morning. We could use your help."

  Harry knew he had lied about Sutton. "So...anyone asking when the program's going to start back up?"

  "Everyone." Harry stood. "Don't worry about lunch. Esther brought over some sandwiches." He stopped in the doorway. "You all right?"

  "I'll let you know in a day or two."

  It wouldn't take much longer, he knew, when Sutton telephoned at the end of the day to ask him to supper. He didn't suppose anyone turned down a supper invitation with the Albrights and he wasn't going to be the first. But when he hung up the telephone, vague misgivings became genuine alarm. He went upstairs to dress and came back down as Harry was closing, to make certain he was shined up suitably for whatever supper palace the Albrights had in mind.