Princes of the Lower East Side: A 1920s Mafia Thriller (A Scalisi Family Novel)

by Meredith Allison

  “Well done,” Hyman said under his breath. “Keep it up, Mademoiselle Scalisi.”

  “Yes, boss,” she replied.

  He led her to Governor Smith and Senator Robinson, who rose to greet her with smiles on their faces. The liquor they’d drunk seemed to embolden them as their gazes went over her, still in her dancing costume, and Mia realized it had not been a coincidence that Hyman insisted she greet them dressed this way.

  “You are ever charming, Miss Scalisi,” the senator said, pecking the back of her proffered hand.

  “Yes, indeed,” the governor added. “A vigorous dance number, that was. You must have quite a set of powerful lungs to sing and dance so at the same time.” And his eyes drifted down, as though trying to see her “lungs” through her costume.

  Mia glanced at Hyman, who smiled blithely at her. “Thank you so much, gentlemen. That’s just the first half of the show. I do hope you’re ready for the rest.”

  “After this fine food and this even finer booze, I’m ready for anything,” the senator said, and pinched the rosy cheek of his young companion. “Isn’t that right, dolly?”

  She smiled, playing her role as much as Mia was. They exchanged a brief glance of camaraderie. “That’s right, Joey.”

  “So, Miss Scalisi,” Governor Smith said, “have you reconsidered lending me your support in the next election?”

  “That depends,” she replied. “Have you reconsidered your stance on Prohibition?”

  He tipped his head back and laughed. “Still on that? Look around, Miss Scalisi. Nearly every person here is imbibing. Do you see any crimes being committed? Do you see any terrible things taking place? No. We are all adults who can handle our cups. To assume otherwise is preposterous. All this ridiculous law does is provide a breeding ground for criminals.”

  “Well, our booze had to come from somewhere,” Mia said sweetly. She caught Hyman’s sharp look out of the corner of her eye. “Doesn’t us procuring it make us criminals, as well?”

  “Merely victims of circumstance,” he replied. “Mr. Goldberg is a solid businessman. You’re just a poor, immigrant showgirl trying to get by the best way she knows how.”

  You’re a fool, she thought, biting down hard on her cheek to fight off the sneer that threatened to twist her lips.

  “If this law didn’t exist to punish honest businessmen merely trying to provide an in-demand service,” the governor continued, “you could never even have asked that question, my dear. Of course, you’re no criminal.”

  “I’m sure the country’s brave Prohibition agents would beg to differ,” she said.

  “All the more reason to abolish it.”

  Before Mia could open her mouth to argue, a woman’s voice rose above the crowd.

  “You’re nothing but a goddamn, lousy, man-stealing whore!”

  Eyes wide, Mia whirled toward the voice, already knowing who it belonged to.

  Gloria stood unsteadily in front of Annette, where she was seated at a table with Wolfy, Owney, and a few other men and their companions. Annette kept her gaze steadily on Gloria, a look of stoic understanding written on her features as she slipped out of her chair and rose to her feet.

  “Oh, dear,” Governor Smith commented in a mild tone.

  “Catfight,” the senator said with a laugh.

  “Mia,” Hyman said in a low, warning, commanding voice meant only for her ears.

  Raquel held one of Gloria’s wrists, looking terrified as she tried to tug her away. Gloria, too hellbent on screaming at Annette, kept jerking away from Raquel. She jabbed a shaking finger in Annette’s face, and Mia wouldn’t have blamed her friend if she decked her sister-in-law.

  Just the same—no one touches her.

  “Pardon me,” Mia muttered, shoving between the governor and the senator and hurrying toward the two women. A small crowd gathered around them—not to break them up, but to spur them on.

  It seemed Charlie had the same idea as her, as she caught sight of him across the room, throwing his napkin on the table and striding toward the crowd. Moritz remained coolly in his seat, smoking a cigarette as he nodded at something Mr. Luciano was saying to him. He glanced up almost casually as Mia passed his table.

  “Why don’t you do something!” she snapped at him.

  “She’s not my sister,” he replied.

  Mia clenched her fists as rage flashed through her, but there was no time to deal with him. She none-too-gently elbowed her way through the crowd, ignoring the little cries of pain she elicited along the way. Serves these lousy bastards right.

  Raquel turned toward her and practically fell into her arms. Her face was a mixture of beauty and terror. “I don’t know what to do,” she stammered. “I—I—”

  “It’s all right,” Mia reassured her cousin, patting her cheeks with a calmness she was far from feeling. She felt horrible that Raquel’s first night out in New York City, when she looked so charming in a brand-new, glitzy, dark-blue dress, was turning out this way. “Please go find Mr. Wyatt and stay by his side.”

  With wide eyes, Raquel nodded and slipped through the crowd. Mia turned toward the two women, facing off.

  “…couldn’t find your own man?” Gloria was shouting at Annette. “You had to take mine? You knew he was married!”

  Annette slowly brought her hands up, and Mia jolted forward. But Annette just rested her hands on Gloria’s shoulders.

  “You’re makin’ a scene just now, Miz Scalisi,” she said in a gentle voice. “Perhaps no one should see you like this.”

  “I’ll make as many fucking scenes as I want,” Gloria snarled, shoving at her hands. “And I want answers. I’ve been waiting to talk to you for a long time, you floozy.”

  “Gloria,” Mia said harshly, and yanked on her elbow.

  Gloria lost her footing, stumbling into Mia, her bloodshot eyes wide with surprise. “Mia? Get off me!”

  “No.” Mia wrapped both her arms around Gloria’s from behind, using all her might to keep Gloria’s arms pinned. She caught Charlie’s eye as he pushed his way to the front. He reached for Gloria.

  “C’mon, Glo,” Charlie said. “Don’t do this here.”

  “You can go to hell!” she shouted, kicking a foot out at him. “All of you. I hope you fucking burn there! You knew! You knew what he was doing all the time!”

  Charlie scooped her off her feet and headed for the nearest door. Gloria beat him with her fists, thrashing this way and that, her cries fading beneath the band the farther away he carried her.

  Mia faced Annette, who stood still, her face the same, impassive mask it had been since the ugly scene started.

  “I’m—sorry,” Mia said. “She’s drunk. And we had a row earlier. She’s real sore at me for something I said. I don’t know—I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”

  “Seeing me didn’t help,” Annette said gently.

  “Still. I’m sorry for those terrible things she called you.”

  “I been called worse. And I did sleep with her husband.” Annette shrugged. “I wanted to apologize to her, but I don’t think she’ll forgive me.”

  “No, she won’t,” Mia said. “But I did, a long time ago, if it means anything. And…thanks for not decking her.”

  “Never.” Annette gave her a one-sided, sad smile. “Take care of her.”

  Mia nodded and strode for the door Charlie had gone out of. She ripped it nearly off its hinges and slammed it shut behind her, as hard as she could manage.

  In the service hallway, Gloria was on the floor, sobbing in Charlie’s arms. Raquel hovered nearby, wringing her hands, and Will stood beside her. He shot her a look of sympathy.

  Mia’s nostrils flared. She wanted to be furious with Gloria, but her heart broke at the same time.

  “I’m sorry,” Gloria wept. “I’m sorry.”

  “Glo, you’re drunk,” Mia said. “You need to go home and go to bed.”

  “You stay with her,” Charlie said. “I’ll go find Bobby or Joey.”

&nbs
p; Just then, the door opened again, and Paolo stepped into the service hallway, looking distressed. On his heels was Frankie Yale.

  Paolo caught Mia’s eye. He flicked his gaze briefly over his shoulder toward Frankie, then back to Mia and frowned.

  He did not care for Mr. Yale.

  “Paolo, would you please go find Bobby or Joey? Mrs. Scalisi needs to go home.”

  Paolo glanced once more at Frankie, then nodded and went back into the main room.

  “I’m happy to take her,” Frankie said, leaning against the wall. “I had her under control earlier, ’til she got away from me.”

  “My sister-in-law is not and will never be under any man’s control,” Mia bit off.

  Frankie just chuckled. “Suit yourself.”

  “C’mon, hon,” Charlie said to Gloria, helping her stand. “You’re gonna go home and sleep it off.”

  Paolo reemerged with Joey in tow. “Bobby’s been waiting outside, keeping an eye on things,” Joey said. “I’ll have him take Mrs. Scalisi home.”

  “I—I’ll go, too,” Raquel said, looking at Mia. “She needs someone to take care of her.”

  “I’ll help.” Will lifted his brows at Mia. “All right?”

  “Thank you.” Mia glanced at Frankie, still eyeing her drunk sister-in-law. “Please tell Bobby to stay out in the hallway after the girls get settled.” She put her hand on Paolo’s arm. “Can you help Raquel and Will?”

  He gave her a reproachful look, as if offended she would even ask.

  The door opened again, and Hyman stepped out. The carefree smile he’d been wearing dropped away the instant the door shut behind him.

  “I’m normally not given over to using coarse language,” he said through his teeth, “but what the goddamn hell was that?”

  “Sorry, I’m sorry,” Gloria mumbled, tears still coursing down her cheeks.

  Hyman looked at Mia. “Get. Her. Out of here.”

  Raquel stared at him in shock.

  Mia said quietly, “Joey.”

  Joey whipped off his suit coat and draped it around Gloria. “Time to go, Mrs. S.” He wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her, then walked her toward the exit door at the end of the hall, Paolo trailing. More than once, Gloria’s legs wobbled and her ankles gave out. Joey caught her each time before finally scooping her into his arms.

  Mia grabbed Raquel’s hand. “I’m sorry, Cousin,” she said, looking into her dark, kohl-rimmed eyes that brimmed with tears. They were nearly the same height, and did favor each other more as sisters than cousins. “I promised you a fun night out.”

  “I did have fun,” Raquel said with a tremulous smile. “For a while. You were splendid, Mia. Such a wonderful performance. Thank you for inviting me.”

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  Raquel nodded and glanced at Will. Mia couldn’t help noticing the respectful, solicitous way he offered his arm, and the awe in his eyes each time he looked at her. Something to address, but now was not the time.

  Hyman watched them all go, breathing deeply in and out through his nose as his jaw muscles twitched. He fixed Mia with a long stare, the look on his face terrifying and unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

  Finally, he said, “That does not happen here. This is not that kind of place.”

  Mia bristled immediately, her slight fear of him vanishing. She was angry with Gloria for acting out, too, but Hyman was toeing a delicate line with his words. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know very well what it means,” Hyman said, his voice sharp as a knife. “The Divine is not some sleazy speakeasy with brawls and drunkards.”

  “She is not a drunkard. She made a mistake.”

  “A mistake that’s costing me my reputation,” he snapped. “This place was built for people with money. Real money. Old money. You saw the governor and the senator here. This is not the place for grieving widows to act like drunken floozies arguing over who’s a better piece of ass!”

  Mia hadn’t realized she’d lunged at Hyman until she felt arms locking around hers and heard her own snarl of killing rage echoing in her ears. Charlie was pressed to her back.

  “Stop it,” he ordered.

  Hyman blinked at her in shock.

  Her heart pounded almost painfully. She wrestled her arms out of Charlie’s. “Let go of me.”

  After a tense moment of silence, Hyman took another deep breath and straightened his tuxedo bowtie. “Tensions are high,” he said finally, his words clipped. “As they usually are after a disagreeable scene like what we just witnessed. The best course of action is to proceed with the evening as normal. Miss Scalisi, you will go back inside and be your charming little self. You will continue with your set and make everyone forget the unpleasantness they witnessed. And I will overlook what just happened here. This. Once.” He pointed the opposite direction down the hallway. “I believe you know the way to your dressing room. You have five minutes to change.”

  If she remained in the hallway a moment longer, she was going to say something that would get her in deep, irrevocable trouble.

  Mia spun on her heel and stalked down the hallway. When she reached her dressing room, she slammed the door with enough force to shake the building.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Somehow, Mia made it through the rest of the night. She did exactly as Hyman had told her—she sang more songs, talked and joked with the crowd, mingled during the next short intermission, and charmed away their lingering memories of the scene Gloria had caused. She made sure to avoid Hyman directly, though during the remainder of her set, she tossed teasing, flattering remarks his way, inviting the crowd to applaud him for a successful opening night of New York City’s hottest new nightclub.

  “Perhaps one day we’ll be as big as the Cotton Club, eh, Mr. Madden?” she called. “How kind of you to help us celebrate our grand opening! Isn’t he swell, everybody?”

  He smiled modestly, waving to the crowd as it applauded him. “Anything for my friend, Mr. Hyman Goldberg.”

  “I can think of no better friends to celebrate with,” Hyman said, bowing graciously to the crowd. “And, to close out our spectacular first night—champagne for everyone, on the house!”

  Mia slipped out as the crowd went wild and the sounds of corks being popped peppered the air. She walked down the service hall to her dressing room, unlocked the door, and slipped inside. She packed her small suitcase that had followed her from vaudeville to Penny’s to Stems to the Chicago, and now here. She could change her clothes later.

  Mia stepped out of the room and stuck her key in to lock it.

  “Not gonna spend time with your adoring fans?”

  The voice brought her up short. Her heart sped up again, clanging against her ribs.

  “Mr. Morelli,” she said to the door with a calmness she didn’t feel. “Fancy that.”

  She was trapped. There was nothing else in this part of the hall besides her dressing room. No other exit. She might be able to duck inside and slam and lock the door before he caught up, but wood didn’t stop bullets.

  So she summoned her courage and spun around slowly, and looked him in the eye.

  He was handsome in a neatly tailored tux, if the bowtie was a little crooked. His hands were in his pockets. He prowled closer, his dark eyes raking her head to toe.

  For the last part of her set, she’d changed into the beautiful cream and gold dress with the handkerchief hem, the first one she’d tried on at Hyman’s. Mrs. Astor had let out the appropriate inches in the bust and hips, and now, it draped on her in a fashionable way, and the top was even low enough to reveal a bit more of her décolletage than it had before. Mrs. Astor had, however, forgotten a pin on one side of the dress at her waist, and it had been poking and scratching her since she’d first noticed onstage during “Saint Louis Blues.” It scratched her now, but she remained motionless, watching Jake’s every move as he neared.

  “Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said admiringly.

&nb
sp; “Yeah,” Mia replied. “A few less bullet holes than you’d prefer, I’m sure.”

  He raised one thick, dark eyebrow. “Whatsit?”

  “Don’t play coy, Mr. Morelli. That’s my role.”

  “Someone shot at you?” He tilted his head.

  “As if you didn’t know.”

  “I didn’t. Who was it?” His eyes narrowed as he gave her a roguish smile. “Guess I oughtta thank ’em for trying, at least.”

  “What. Do you want.”

  He held up his hands. “It was a joke, dollface. A bad one. I didn’t try to have you shot, I swear to God. We’re partners after all, ain’t we?”

  “Do I look a fool to you?”

  Jake shook his head. “Listen, you sent me a whole pile of dough the other day. I’d be stupid to try to get rid of you. Besides, I like lookin’ at you too much.”

  She glared at him.

  “When did it happen?” His voice was quiet, almost gentle.

  “Last night.” Suspicion pinged through her body. She was reluctant to tell him anything. Was he truly innocent, or was he just playing her? “You had nothing to do with it?”

  He huffed impatiently. “Hell no. I was at a card game in the Bowery, anyway.”

  “You don’t have to be present for a hit.”

  “I like to do my own work.” He stepped closer to her until he was less than an inch away. His body heat practically radiated through her. He smirked. “See, I ain’t touching you. Though I don’t see no pistol on you to do any whipping, unless you got one in that suitcase or…under that dress.”

  “You have no idea what’s under this dress.”

  “Is that my invitation?” His gaze dropped to her lips.

  She backed up until she hit the door. “Only if you enjoy risking your life.”

  “Ah, come on,” he drawled, bracing an arm on the door beside her head and leaning in close. He pulled the suitcase from her hand before she could react and set it down out of reach. “You ain’t gotta be so mean all the time. I ain’t so bad. Gimme a chance. Besides, a woman like you needs a man like me. Not some little prick like that Lazzari. The way he just pussyfoots around you. You need a man who’s not afraid to take what he wants.”