Speak Easy (8 page)

My eyes darted around the lake, and sure enough, what looked like a Prohibition Navy boat was passing us about ten yards off. I saw men in rain slickers lining the deck, guns at their sides. With my pulse roaring in my ears, I threw my arms around Joey and kissed him as if we were just a couple out for a romantic boat ride in the rain. But fear had me frozen stiff; it must have been like kissing a statue. “Relax,” murmured Joey against my closed lips. “I’ve got you.” His low voice loosened my limbs and my inhibitions, and when he pulled me onto his lap, I went willingly. His mouth was hot, and his soft lips teased mine open. The rock and sway of the boat lulled us into a rhythm, and I melted into it, into him. One of his hands began kneading my hip, and the other inched up the side of my ribcage, his thumb nearly grazing my breast. My nipples tightened, and I wanted his hands on them.

Oh my God, I’m kissing Joey. And I like it.

The inspectors had to be past us by now, but I didn’t want to stop. Raindrops splashed our faces and mingled with our kiss, but they did nothing to cool me down. Without thinking, I slipped my tongue between Joey’s lips, and he sucked it gently before stroking it with his own. Picturing his familiar lush mouth, I held his head in my hands and plucked softly at his top lip, then his bottom lip, and then I pulled away slightly to rub my lips back and forth against his. His breath was hot on my mouth, and coming faster. A pleasant ache began between my legs and I arched my back, moving my hips a little. For a moment his arm tightened and I felt his flesh stirring beneath me—but in the next second he pulled away.

“They’re gone.” He set me beside him and turned on the motor.

I sat still, breathing heavily and trying to recover my senses. My whole body shook.

“You OK?” Joey asked. I was irritated to see a smile on his lips.

“No.” I stumbled over the whisky back to the other bench seat. “I can’t believe you did that.”
I can’t believe how much I liked it.
Had he been pretending the whole time?

He laughed. “Sorry. But I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

I cocked my head, grateful he couldn’t see my cheeks flaming in the dark. “Glad I could amuse you.”

“Listen, I don’t know if those guys cared about us or not, but I didn’t feel like discussing things with them tonight, seeing as we’re unarmed, have no cash to spare, and smuggling seventeen cases of whisky across the lake.”

As we zipped through the drizzle, I kept my eyes on the shore, resisting the urge to peek at Joey. It didn’t seem as if the kiss had affected him the way it had me, but maybe I was making too much of it. Maybe it was just fear and adrenaline fueling that kiss, rather than any chemistry between us. And all the fooling around with Enzo had me wound so tightly, I was about to burst.

It isn’t Joey. It can’t be.

Besides, I had a much bigger problem—at my feet was a hell of a lot of booze that I had to sell in twenty-four hours. In addition, I owed Sam the Barber any information I could get about that rail shipment. How was I supposed to do that? Could I get it out of Enzo? That meant being sweet to him again, and I wasn’t certain my acting ability was up to par—I was furious that he’d stolen Al Murphy’s business, especially since he knew I needed money this week.
Bastard
, I thought for the hundredth time today. If I could get that information, it would sure feel good to pay him back for double-crossing me. It would make Joey happy too.

Finally I risked a peek at him, and he was looking at me too. For a few seconds, we stared at each other, neither one speaking, until the tension between us had every muscle in my body clenched so tight I had to look away.

Once we docked, Joey and I ran the whisky into the boathouse while lightning flashed over the lake. The wind howled and rain fell harder, pelting our faces. Thunder rumbled in the distance as I picked up the last case and hurried toward the boathouse, where Joey stood just inside the doorway. We still hadn’t spoken.

“I’ll buy three cases from you,” Joey said as I set the sack down. From his pocket he took a wad of cash and handed it to me. I stared at it, and then at him.

“What the hell, Moneybags? You rob a bank this afternoon?” The roaring wind slammed the door shut behind us, and I jumped.

“No, I earned it. You’re not the only one who works, you know.” Joey tucked the money into the front pocket of my blouse. Then he moved for the door, but I scooted in front of it.

“Hold on a second.”

“What?”

“What exactly are you doing for Sam the Barber to make that kind of money? And why doesn’t he have hair, anyway?”

“What’s his hair got to do with anything?”

“I don’t know. I just thought a barber would have hair.”

“He’s not a barber.”

“He’s not? Well, why do they call him—”

“Because he’s good with a razor.”

Lightning cracked, illuminating Joey’s grave face. “Oh, God.” My legs threatened to buckle as the thunder rolled. It sounded as if the storm was right above us.

“Look, Sam’s not a bad guy,” Joey said as rain pummeled the roof. “He’s fair, at least. You get him what he wants, and he’ll return the favor without double-crossing you.”

I shook my head. “I can’t get him what he wants. Angel’s not going to tell me anything.”

“I agree. You’ll have to get your fancy suit to talk.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“You’ll find a way.” Lightning flashed again, allowing me to see the ghost of a smile on his face as he came toward me. For a second I thought he might kiss me, but he didn’t. He just rubbed his lips back and forth against my ear and whispered, “You’ve got hidden talent.”

Chapter Eight

That night I tossed and turned in sheets damp with sweat and humidity. I listened to the storm through my open window and fretted about selling enough whisky to buy Daddy’s life and protect my sisters. My stomach ached, and I curled into a ball on my side. Had I done the right thing by going to Joey and not the police? Was I wrong to hide this from Bridget? Would I regret making a deal with Sam the Barber in which I promised to trade information for protection?

If anything went wrong, it would be my fault.

And Joey—I’d
kissed Joey
. I’d wanted to do more than that. Slamming my eyes shut, I tried to block the memory, to forget how much I’d enjoyed it. What the hell was wrong with me? Was I just starving for physical attention? Desperate for a release of the tension? Between Joey and Enzo, I’d had more sexual excitement in the last three days than I’d had all year. And none of it was real; someone was always acting.

Flopping onto my back, I tried to think of things I could say or do to entice Enzo to tell me about the rail shipment. He was too smart to let something slip, so my only hope was using the attraction between us. I’d failed last time, but maybe if I let things go further…

My heart thumped hard. Just how far was I willing to go? I wasn’t completely unspoiled, but my sexual prowess was fairly untested beyond the usual heavy petting. Despite my Catholic upbringing, I knew how to give myself an orgasm—and Charlie Gerrity, the one boy I’d dated seriously in high school, had certainly been no great challenge—but Enzo was another entity altogether. He wasn’t a school boy ready to go off at the sight of a girl’s knees. He was a man, and he seemed like a man with experience. Would I know what to do to get him to yield? And how would I keep my temper in check? Every time I thought about the way he’d stolen Al Murphy’s business, screwing me out of making the ransom money, my skin got hot with rage. It would take a huge effort not to accuse him of deliberately playing dirty with me, not that he’d care.

It’s a dirty business, Tiny.

It sure as hell was. Dirty and dangerous and full of constant temptation.

As I remembered his fingers beneath my dress, on my bare skin, touching the most sensitive parts of me, my body thrummed with desire. I flexed and fisted my hands in the sheet, imagining what his body was like underneath those custom suits. Suddenly I had all kinds of ideas for getting him to talk.

He said he found me hard to resist. I was going to test him on that.

#

“I
might
be able to help you,” Rosie said coyly, leaning toward her reflection as she applied her lipstick. With her social life, I thought she might know some people interested in buying whisky, so I’d stopped by hoping to see her before she left for work. She met my eyes in the bedroom mirror. “But what’s in it for me?”

I couldn’t offer her cash—I needed every dollar to pay Angel. But there was something I thought she’d go for. “How’d you like to go to Club 23 tonight?”

She straightened. “You serious?”

“Yes.”

She capped her lipstick and rubbed her ruby lips together. “Why do you need the money so bad?”

“My father’s in trouble. I’m helping him cover a debt, and I have to pay it immediately.” I’d decided to be up front with Rosie because she liked Daddy. Mr. LaChance had an eye for other women and a tendency to disappear for weeks at a time, and more than once Daddy had helped Mrs. LaChance pay the rent.

Rosie nodded. “What’s the price?”

“Fifteen per bottle.”

She admired her reflection again. “Club 23, huh? I bet there’s a lot of high class daddies in there.” In the mirror, her eyes wandered around the room she shared with Evelyn. “Maybe I could get out of this dump.”

“So it’s a deal?”

“It’s a deal.” She went to the closet and pulled down a brown leather suitcase. “Pack as many bottles as you can in here, and I’ll take ‘em down to the store. I know a few suits I can sweet talk.”

I ran out to my car and hustled in one sack of whisky. We managed to tuck all twelve bottles inside the case. “I bet I’ll have it all sold before lunch,” she bragged, flipping the latches closed.

“If you do, I’ll buy your first drink at the club.”

She pursed her perfect bow lips as she slipped into her shoes. “Honey, once we’re through that door, you can go chase yourself. I won’t need you.”

#

That day, I called or visited every customer on our list. I braved sales calls to restaurants where I knew the owners and even ventured into the Country Club to speak with a waiter I’d gone to high school with. Short of standing on a street corner and shouting to the world that I had whisky for sale, I’d done everything possible to move every last drop, but at five o’clock I still had forty unsold bottles. That meant I’d be
six hundred dollars
short when I faced Angel tonight, and
that
was assuming Rosie managed to sell all twelve bottles she’d taken to work.

I drove home, racking my brain. Who could I borrow from? Bridget was out—I was avoiding even talking to her because I felt so guilty about lying. And she was bound to start asking questions about Daddy’s absence. He’d never left us this long.

We had no other close family. Evelyn didn’t make much at the bakery, and Rosie was already doing me a favor.

That left Joey. Again.

Inside the house, I stared at the phone in the front hall, tugging at my hair. I hated to ask Joey for anything more since he’d given me over five hundred bucks yesterday. But I had nowhere else to turn, and Daddy was depending on me. My sisters were depending on me, even if they didn’t know it. I looked up his mother’s number in the directory and dialed, but she said she hadn’t seen him all day and didn’t expect him back any time soon. Normally I laughed when I heard anyone refer to him as Giuseppe, but not today. After thanking her, I hung up and yanked on my hair again. “Shit!”

I paced back and forth in the hall, utterly panicked. I had no idea where Joey was. I still hadn’t heard from Rosie. I hadn’t seen my sisters all day and God only knew what they were up to. My father was being held in some gang hideout somewhere, maybe being tortured or beaten, and I was short six hundred bucks on the ransom payment due at the end of the day. And that was only half the cash I needed to free him! My nerves were so raw that when the phone rang, I shrieked before grabbing it.

“Hello?”

“Heya, Frances,” Rosie said. “The deed’s done.”

I held my breath. “It is?”

“No foolin. I got the cash right here.”

“And you got the price I asked for?”

“Are you doubting me? Seems to me a person in your…predickerment should be a little nicer.”

“I’m sorry. I know how hard you had to work, and I’m very grateful.”

“I never said it was hard, Frances. I said it was done.”

I took a deep breath.
Honey, not vinegar.
“Thank you, Rosie. I’ll pick you up at nine tonight.” I hung up the phone and put my hands over my stomach. The church bells down the street rang out six times, sending chills down my arms. I closed my eyes and began to pray.

#

The girls wandered in shortly after seven, and I threw supper together—bacon and eggs again, which caused both girls to roll their eyes. “I really should learn to cook,” Molly said as she scraped eggs onto her plate and slapped the spatula back into the pan.

“I’ll help,” added Mary Grace. “Even I could do better than this.” She held up a piece of bacon I’d blackened to a crisp.

“I’ll eat that one. I like it that way.” I grabbed it from her and took a charred bite. It tasted like ashes.

When the phone rang a minute later, I jumped up from my chair so abruptly it tipped over backward.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

“Joey, what the hell? I’ve been looking for you all day!” I didn’t even care if the girls heard me curse.

“Calm down. I had business to take care of. Did you get the money?”

“No, I’m short.” I glanced over my shoulder.

“How much?”

I was silent, the amount stuck in my throat like a wad of chewing gum. I didn’t want to say it in earshot of the girls.

“Are your sisters there?”

Bless you, Joey.
“Uh huh.”

“A hundred?”

“More.”

“Three?”

“More.”

“Jesus. Five?”

“Six.”

Joey exhaled. “OK. I can’t pick you up tonight because I have something to do, but I’ll meet you in front of the club at ten with the money.”

Relief cascaded over me like a waterfall. “How are you going to get it?”

“Don’t worry about that. Just be outside at ten.”

“OK. And thanks…I owe you.”

“Owing me is the least of your problems.” He hung up.

#

“I don’t get it,” Evelyn said as she watched Rosie and I dress for Club 23 in their bedroom. “Why does she get to go with you and I don’t?”

The hurt on her face wrenched my heart, but I refused to put Evelyn in danger. Rosie could handle herself. “I’m only giving her a ride there, Evvy. I have to drop something off for my father again, and I don’t intend to stay. Can you fasten this?” I was wearing an old black dress of Rosie’s, which had a small tear at the side seam and was too big for me, but still better than being seen again in the blue. She let me wear the headband again too. If I ever had money to spend on myself again, I’d buy my own.

“I’ve never seen you wear black,” said Rosie, darkening her caramel lashes to soot. “It looks good on you.”

Evelyn helped me with the tiny snaps at the side of the dress but continued to grumble. “I’ve hardly even seen you this week.”

I hugged her. “I want to get in and out of there quickly,” I said.
Alive
, I left out. “And the men I have to deal with are not the sort of men you want to meet. It’s too dangerous.”

“I might like dangerous men.”

“Oh, please,” put in Rosie from the mirror. Her rouge matched her satin dress—the shortest dress I’d ever seen off a movie screen. “You don’t drink much, you don’t smoke at all, and you don’t know how to dance. What would you do there?”

“I’m a better dancer than Tiny, and
she’s
going.”

“Tiny’s got connections.” I detected the note of admiration in Rosie’s voice. “When you get some of those, you can go too.” She gave Evelyn a patronizing little pat on the head. If I was Evelyn, I’d have kicked her.

“Next time, I promise.” I squeezed her shoulder. “You
are
a better dancer than me, and we’ll go to a club together soon, OK? Maybe Joey will take us.”

She brightened a little at his name. “All right.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Leaving a disappointed Evelyn at the door, Rosie and I climbed into my Ford. “I do wish we had a better mode of transportation.” She wrinkled her pert little nose. “This jalopy really isn’t my style.”

“Want to walk?” I asked tersely. “I can give you directions, but you’re on your own for the password.”

“I’m only joking. Don’t have a kitten.” Rosie patted my shoulder.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

“You mentioned Joey. He coming tonight?” Rosie batted her spidery lashes at me.

“No.”

“Too bad. I like those big brown eyes. But there will be plenty of other eyes there.”

Mine slid sideways. “All on you in that dress.”

She shimmied her shoulders. “That’s the way I like it.”

I took the same route Joey had driven Saturday night and parked along the quiet downtown side street. My password worked again, and we were sent through the winding basement hallway that ended at the club’s main room, where Rosie stood slack-jawed for a full ten seconds. Finally she whistled, slung an arm around me, and spoke loudly over the raucous music. “I take back everything I’ve ever said about ya, Frances. You’re the cat’s meow.” She dug a cigarette out of her purse and eyed a table full of young men near the dance floor. Glancing over her shoulder as she headed for them, she said, “See ya.”

Left alone, I gulped back my nerves and looked around the room. I didn’t see Enzo or Angel, and I didn’t want them to spot me until I had all the money. It was nine-thirty, which meant I had to kill half an hour before Joey arrived. Keeping my eyes low, I went to the far end of the bar and stood with my back to the crowd, hoping to be invisible.

No such luck.

“What’ja do, bring your homework?” Pimple-faced Harry parked himself on my left and gestured at the envelope I clutched to my side.

“Get lost.” I kept my eyes down.

“Why do all the pretty ones gotta be so unfriendly, Raymond?”

I stiffened at the name of Angel’s other son, the one who’d dragged me through the garage.

“Dunno, Harry.” Raymond’s voice came from my right. “But this one’s pretty all right. And she’s got nice little round tits too. I copped a feel of ‘em when I was holding her down.”

I looked at him sharply, considering a knee to the groin. “You did not.”

He leered at me and licked his lips. “I did, and I liked it.”

Clenching my fists, I stared up at him, breathing hard through my nostrils. It wasn’t difficult to see the resemblance in the DiFiore family—like Enzo, Raymond had the classically attractive features of their father, although his eyes were slightly wider set, and his jaw was a shade weaker. I felt like spitting in his handsome face. But if I caused a scene, I’d only draw attention to myself.
Keep calm. Don’t move. Don’t speak. It’s almost ten.

“Maybe you think you’re too good for a drink with us. Is that it?” Harry’s tone was menacing.

“No,” I said. “It’s just…I don’t see anything I want.”

“What do you mean by that?” Raymond demanded. He moved closer, poking a meaty finger toward the bottles lining the back wall. “We got all the good stuff, way better than what you and your lousy pop are running.”

A little bell pinged in my head. I pretended to look over the offerings behind the bar. “Nah. You don’t have what I’m looking for.”

Raymond huffed. “Like what?”

“Well, I’d like to try some rum. The real thing, from the islands. Not some coffin varnish made from industrial alcohol and prune juice.” Taking a cue from Rosie, I batted my lashes at Harry. “You got any rum?”