by Tracey Ward
“Not that I’ve served her,” he swears.
“Alice. Kiddo,” Mickey calls, trying to get her attention. She’s still staring at the floor. “Hey, doll, you want me to take you home?”
She looks up at Mickey and smiles happily. “Hey, Tommy. You look shorter down there.”
“Yeah, she’s finished,” he grumbles to me, swiping his hand over his slick, black hair. “Where’s her coat?”
“Over here,” Elisha says as she hurries toward it. She hands it quickly to Mickey, going out of her way to make sure their hands never touch.
I frown at her questioningly, but she ignores me.
“Thanks,” Mickey mutters, not making eye contact with her. “Come on, Alice. You’ve had it for the night.”
“Okay, To-Tommy. Whatever yasay.”
“Hal!” I call toward the bar again. “Can you get Clara for me? It looks like we’ll need her tonight.”
He smirks at me from across the room and I feel like smacking him. “Are you ready to eat crow for her? ‘Cause that’s what she’ll want.”
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at him. “She can either come in and work tonight with her mouth zipped shut, or she can look for other permanent employment elsewhere. Her choice.”
“I’ll let her know, but I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Aid – that girl don’t keep her lips zipped.”
“Which makes me wonder how in the world you put up with her.”
He grins wickedly. “I like an open mouth on a girl, if you get my drift.”
“Yeah,” I reply dryly. “It was subtle, but I got it.”
“Hal, you wanna stop gossipin’ and open the damn door for me?” Mickey asks him sharply, lugging Alice’s uncooperative body toward the front door.
Hal is quick to jump down off his stool, heading for the door.
“Call Clara!” I remind him.
He waves me off. “Yeah, yeah.”
“Do you wanna pay her way for the rest of her life, or do you want her to work?”
“Hell, Adrian, I said I’d call her!”
“You better or else you’re putting on her dress and doing the number for her.”
“Pft,” Mickey scoffs, grinning at me as Hal opens the door and a burst of winter rolls inside, curling and coiling in a frosty chill on the floor at their feet. “He ain’t got the legs for it.”
“Neither of you has the looks for it, so someone better go fetch Angel for me,” I reply pointedly.
They laugh as they leave, Alice pressed between them with her head slumped to her chest.
I watch her feet drag across the floor. Useless.
***
“Why is Clara back?” Ralph asks late that night in his office.
I’m sitting here with Tommy and Mickey, watching as they count the take and make marks in a ledger that I carefully keep from glancing at.
Knowing less means living longer.
“We needed her to fill in,” Tommy answers.
“I thought our Adrian hated her,” Ralph says, giving me a wink.
I smile in return. “I don’t hate her.”
Mickey laughs.
“What?” I ask him.
He shakes his head in disbelief. “You hate her, admit it. You threatened to shave her head last month.”
“That cow refused to wear the hat for her costume. Said it messed up her hair. I told her I’d be happy to fix it for her if she was so worried about it.”
Now Tommy is chuckling. “You told her, and I quote, ‘If you’re so worried about that rat’s nest on your head, I’ll gladly sheer you like a sheep.’ End quote.”
I shrug carelessly. “I don’t remember that.”
“I’ll always remember that,” Mickey says wistfully.
“Who was she fillin’ in for?” Ralph asks.
“Alice,” I tell him. “She wasn’t feeling well.”
“She threw up in the car,” Mickey mutters, licking his thumb to help him quickly count out tattered bills. “Got that shit all over my shoes.”
Ralph looks at me with concern. “What’s wrong with her? Too much hooch?”
I pinch my lips together, unsure. “I don’t think so.”
“Maybe she’s pregnant,” Tommy says solemnly.
I want to laugh it off and say it’s not true, but really I don’t know. She easily could be, and wouldn’t that be a nightmare. Any guy she’s going to bed with from this joint isn’t looking to be a father and they definitely aren’t looking to get married, so guess who would get to help with the little bundle of joy. That’s right. Good ole Auntie Adrian.
“Let’s hope not,” I say, shivering inwardly.
“Who is she seein’ nowadays?” Ralph asks me.
Before I can tell him that I don’t know, Tommy looks at Ralph meaningfully. “Nicholas.”
My jaw drops. “She is not.”
“She is,” Tommy replies seriously. “Has been for a few weeks.”
I clamp my mouth shut so hard I bite my tongue, but it’s for the best. The things I want to say will not be well received, not in this room. Nicholas Perreti is a nephew of one of Al Capone’s highest ranking goons. Nicholas, or Pretty Nicky on the street, is also married to a very wealthy daughter of a Senator. If word got out he was sleeping on the sly with a chorus girl from the Cicero Cotton Club, no one would be shocked but there would be a scandal. Possibly a divorce, and that is something that Al and Ralph would not abide. If there’s a chance Alice could cause Nicky trouble, I fear for her future.
“Really?” Ralph asks Tommy, his eyes going sharp. He’s thinking exactly the same thing that I am and my heart hammers in my chest with worry. “Well, let’s definitely hope she’s not knocked up then. So Clara is back? Hal can stop his belly aching’?”
Tommy sits back and lights a cigarette. “Looks that way.”
“What about Eddie’s girl? What are we gonna do with her?”
“Eddie should be back by New Year’s.”
“We can let her go then.”
“She doesn’t wanna go. She likes the money. I’m sure the rest of the family does too. She asked if she could stay on.”
“And what did you tell her?” Ralph asks quietly.
“I told her I’d talk to you about it.”
“When were you going to do that?”
Tommy smirks. “Now’s as good a time as any.”
Ralph looks to me. “What do you think, sweetheart? Is she worth it?”
“Yeah, Ralph, she’s great,” I answer unenthusiastically, “but I don’t know what Eddie will think of her staying.”
“He’ll think he’s doubling his income, that’s what he’ll think,” Tommy argues.
I glare at him. “It’s not always about money.”
“This time it is.”
“Some people care about other things, Tommy. And Eddie cares about his kids. He won’t want her staying in this place.”
“What’s wrong with ‘this place’?” Ralph asks angrily.
I shake my head. “Nothing, Ralph. It’s just not safe for her. She’s young and—“
“So were you when you came here and you’re doin’ just fine, aren’t ya?”
I straighten my shoulders and sit up tall. I know a threat coming when I hear one. “Yes, Ralph. I’m doing very well.”
“Yeah,” he grumbles. “You should try and remember that. Or maybe you’re jealous of this girl’s talent. Maybe we should check and see if she can sing too.”
I feel my pulse spike, my skin start to burn and itch with anger, but I keep it all locked inside tight as a drum. It won’t do me any good to get angry with a Capone. I’ve seen what that gets you.
“Maybe we should, Ralph,” I tell him evenly. “Maybe she’d surprise us.”
He nods, his eyes locked on mine. “After the holidays,” he says quietly. “Right now, who has the time?”
When he looks away, I know I’m in the clear. He’s issued his threat, he’s made me squirm, and I’ll think twice about ever criticiz
ing the club again. I should have known better in the first place. I’m just so bone tired and sick, I can’t even think straight. By the end of the night lately my head is killing me, feeling like it’s looking to be split wide open. I’d see a doc if I had the money. I could ask Tommy or Ralph if I could see one but then I’d be in their debt. It’s somewhere I try to never be.
“Mickey,” Ralph says suddenly, “take Adrian home. She looks exhausted and it’s late.”
I smile at him gratefully. “Thank you, Ralph. I appreciate it,” I say earnestly.
“I know you do, kid.”
“I’ll take her,” Tommy says, standing abruptly.
Ralph looks up at him, his eyes doubtful. “Maybe it’d be better if Mickey took her.”
“It doesn’t make sense for him to drop her,” Tommy argues, pulling on his coat. “He lives in the opposite direction.”
“If memory serves, so do you, Tommy.”
“I got this.”
Ralph looks at me, but I keep my face impassive. I don’t actually care how this plays out. I just want to get out of there and into my bed. Alone.
“You alright with that?” he asks me.
I shrug. “Whatever gets me home.”
“Alright, Tommy You heard the lady. Take her home. Her home.”
Tommy smirks as he helps me up and into my coat. I can feel Ralph’s eyes on me the entire time and I wonder what it is he’s worried about. I’ve dodged Tommy’s advances for years. This won’t even be the first time he’s taken me home, but there’s something in Ralph’s face that is pure scrutiny tonight and I can’t understand why that is.
“Goodnight, Ralph. Night, Mickey,” I tell them with a smile and small wave.
“Night, doll,” Mickey answers.
“Goodnight, Adrian,” Ralph says quietly. Thoughtfully.
“You want a drink before we go?” Tommy asks as we pass the dark, empty bar.
I shake my head, pulling my coat tightly closed in preparation for the cold, winter wind. “No, I’m fine.”
“It’ll help you fall asleep.”
I chuckle. “So will warm milk. Besides, I don’t think I’ll need any help falling asleep tonight.”
Tommy leads me outside, the bitter air hitting me hard and sending me into violent shivers almost immediately. I’m not surprised and I don’t fight it when a strong arm wraps around my waist, pulling me against a solid mass of warmth and danger. It blocks the wind and gives me something to lean on, and some nights that’s all a girl really wants.
He guides me into his black sedan, the cold leather seat groaning in protest when I sit. Once he’s inside, Tommy revs the engine and pulls us away, out into the frost coated night. The streets are thick with fog threatening snow or icy rain that I can feel in the air with every breath as it hits my lungs. We ride in relative silence, only the sound of the wind outside the windows and the road beneath the wheels. It’s strangely comfortable.
By the time Tommy pulls to a stop outside my building, I’m melted wax in the seat, leaning against the door with drooping, heavy lids, my light snuffing out.
“I’ll walk you up,” Tommy says, slipping out of the car before I can protest.
When he opens my door for me, I’m already shaking my head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“It’s not a line, Adrian,” he says with surprising sincerity. “I want to make sure you’re safe. What’s the point of driving you home just to leave you to be jumped in your stairwell?”
I look into his fathomless, dark eyes and I wonder if he means it. If he truly has no more sinister intentions than to see me safely home. It seems unlikely, but at the moment I almost believe it because I want to. I’d like it to be true.
“Thank you, Tommy.”
He doesn’t answer me. He’s all business as he walks me across the ice strewn street, into my building, and up the winding flights of stairs. When we reach my apartment door, I turn to him and feel my heart hammer in my chest. I don’t know what he intends or what I’ll do with what he has planned. All I know is I’m tired as sin and I want to lie down. Alone.
“Thank you for seeing me home,” I tell him, toying with my key absently. I feel nervous and it’s strange.
He steps in closer to me, invading my space and backing me against the door. “You’re welcome, Adrian,” he says deeply, his voice scraping across every nerve in my body like a match head over flint, threatening to ignite.
I lean forward, my breath rebounding off his and coming back warm and wet against my lips. His fingers push my coat open and his hand slides hot against my side. My body responds immediately to his touch, going loose and sinewy, tightening and melting all at once.
His mouths claims mine the way it did in his office, as though he already owns it. As though it’s his for the taking, and I’m not arguing. I’m not fighting. I’m grabbing onto him, balling my fists in the arms of his coat and pulling his chest hard against mine. I want to feel pinned against this wall. I want to feel crushed and a crazy, small part of me wants to see Addy again. I want to breathe in her lungs, see through her eyes, and feel the world for one painful, shining moment with perfect glaring honesty, but it doesn’t come. The wall is too smooth, his pressure too light, his hands too busy on my body, and even as I heat up inside with his every touch, part of me has already walked away. It’s spiraling dizzy down to the street, to the ally, to the dark. It’s staring into intense, glowing eyes watching from the shadows and I feel warm in a different way. I suddenly realize I’m sweating inside my coat in this drafty hallway and my heart is hammering in my ears.
I push Tommy back, wincing and touching my head as the pain slams into me. “I think I’m going to be sick,” I whisper.
He steps back, his brow pinching and his hands taking hold of my elbows to hold me up, but also to keep me away from him. “Shit, you don’t look good.”
“I don’t feel good.” Something is wrong with me. So many things. Too many to sift through tonight.
“Give me your key, I’ll get your door open for you.”
“Thanks.”
He opens the door, then hands me back my key and gestures for me to step inside. I move slowly, afraid of the dizzy feeling that’s still haunting me. When I turn to smile wanly at him and wish him goodnight, he’s watching me carefully.
“You gonna be alright? Do you want me to come in?”
“No, I’ll be fine after I lie down. The girls are all here. They’ll take care of me.”
“Alright. Close the door. I’ll leave when I hear it lock.”
I nod my head, shutting it tight and immediately throwing the locks before resting my sweating forehead against it.
“Goodnight,” I whisper dramatically through the crack between door and frame, feeling so strange. Goofy almost. Drunk, though I only had one gin all night.
“Goodnight,” I hear him chuckle from outside. Then his footsteps slowly begin their descent, taking my pulse down with them.
“Adrian,” Rosaline whispers sharply.
I jump a mile in the air, nearly screaming from fright. “Rosaline, why?!” I exclaim angrily.
“Get in here. Now,” she demands, ignoring my indignation.
“What’s wrong?”
She steps into the light coming in from the window. It’s a small slanted, yellow shaft, but it shows me enough of her face for my heart to resume it’s pounding. She’s terrified and trembling.
“Alice is dead.”
Chapter Ten
I drop my clutch and keys loudly on the floor.
“What?” I ask shakily.
Rosaline shakes her head, her eyes wide as saucers. “She’s dead, Adrian.”
“Are you sure?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I can’t go back in there.”
“Where’s Lucy?”
“In the bathroom throwing up. She checked on her a moment ago and… Oh God, Adrian. Her eyes.”
I push past a Rosaline to hurry into the bedroom. We have two beds s
et up in here. One larger bed to fit two of us, usually Alice and Rosaline, and one small, cramped one for myself. Alice is on my bed lying on her side facing the rest of the room. I know she’s dead the moment I see her. There’s vomit on the floor beside her and she’s curled into the fetal position, her skin sharply white and tight over her bones. But it’s her eyes that let me know she’s gone. They’re colorless and empty, staring off into the distance blindly.
“Shit,” I mutter. I can feel panic rising inside of me. I need to squash it down, to be smart. I need help. “Tommy,” I breathe anxiously.
I run out of the room, making a beeline for the window facing out over the street. I yank on the frame, fighting against the frozen wood and cursing over and over again. Just as I’m considering busting out the glass, it gives way and I’m able to lean out. I see Tommy stepping back into his car.
“Hey, handsome!” I cry, careful not to use his name. My voice sounds shaky and horrified, dispersing in a puff of white, warm air in the freezing wind.
Tommy’s head snaps up to the window immediately, put on alert by my tone.
“Adrian?” he calls back. “Are you alright?”
“I—Yeah. I don’t know. I changed my mind. About the nightcap? Will you come back up?”
I can’t see his face in the dark at this distance, but I can tell he’s confused.
“It’s late. You aren’t feeling well.”
“It’s almost early,” I tease shakily. “Besides, I’ll feel better with you around. Come back up. Please.”
It’s the please that does it. The begging. He knows something’s up.
He walks hurriedly back across the street, disappearing into the building entrance below me. I slam the window shut and hurry to the door. I have it open when he comes bounding up the stairs, his face a dark mask of concern.
“What’s happened?” he demands, all business. When he walks in, he takes one look at Rosaline and gets the idea. She’s started crying silently, her face glistening with tears and her hands twitching at her sides. “Where?” he asks me gruffly.
“In the bedroom. Through there,” I whisper.