Harmony (5 page)

“
You care a lot about your brother,” he mumbled.

“
He’s all I got in the world. Yes, I care.”

“
Little brothers, they can be quite a handful.”

They were headed to the Bronx. Harmony mentally calculated how much it would cost her to catch the Jitney back to Sugar Hill. Too much, probably. She’d have to find a way to the Bronx Park terminal and catch the train. Things were going fast and she had come too far to turn back now.

In front of his brownstone the car door opened and she was helped outside. She stepped into the street and stared up at the place. Romano was out of the car as well, his wool coat draped around his shoulders and his black Fedora resting on the top of his head. The smile in his eyes contained a sensuous flame that set her at ease until he extended his offer. “Shall we?”

Harmony hesitated. At what point did he make it clear he would help her? And at what point had she made it clear she’d pay his price for his help? The lines were blurred and her pounding heart didn’t help much. Despite the warning signs of danger she saw in his intense stare and the eyes of the men that shadowed him, he drew her in with his unspoken charm. It would be easier not to resist him.

Walking around the car, she gave a small smile and allowed him to lead her to the doors of his home. They climbed the stairs but Harmony fell back on the step when the door opened. A short dark skinned older black woman in a maid’s uniform appeared. Their eyes met. There was an arrested expression on her face. The servant quickly covered it then backed away in respect and held the door for them to enter. God help Harmony but it felt like she looked into the eyes of her Grams.

“
Welcome home Mr. Romano,” the servant said, accepting his hat and coat.

“
Mabel.” Romano nodded.

“
Good evening,” Mabel mumbled, her gaze switching to Harmony.

“
Good evening,” Harmony answered softly.

“
Your coat, Miss?”

Harmony nervously undid the front buttons then passed Mabel the coat, her hat and purse. The woman shook her head in disappointment before she walked away. It hurt, but Harmony had grown used to the sting. Singing at The Cotton had cost her the respect of many people in her old community before she moved to Sugar Hill. She could hear the snickers of the young women when she went to church. It got so bad that even the Reverend’s wife asked her not to return. So she didn’t. Since her popularity and her one night performance at the Lincoln Theater, even men that knew her Grams when she was alive had propositioned her. It was exhausting. But she’d learned to endure. Jazz is about survival, and as long as she kept it to jazz she had nothing to be ashamed of.

In the parlor, her heels clicked noisily over the hardwood floors so she slowed her walk and tried hard to appear less anxious. Romano had many fine things including his own private bar—stocked full with bootleg whiskey and hooch. He stood there pouring from a crystal decanter. When he turned, she saw he had two glasses.
Dammit, I can’t drink with him. I need to keep my wits about me.
Harmony only drank hooch with Lewis once or twice and hated it. The Cotton slipped it to its patrons after late hours but never the staff.

“
Thank you,” she said, accepting the drink. She sipped it but kept a straight face and the pour burned its way down her throat.

“
Have a seat.”

She did. Thankfully, he chose one across from her.

“
When does Willie run Mickey’s hooch to Red Hots? What day?”

“
I said Mickey Collins has an arrangement with Madame St. Clair so I’m not sure of how often or what days Willie did his runs.”

Romano downed the last of his whiskey as if it were water. He didn’t bristle at her sharp tongue. Hard as she tried she couldn’t humble her speech any lower. She was quite jumpy now being out of her territory.

“
Nunzio,” he called out.

A man appeared from nowhere, another Sicilian, younger than Romano, but with a unforgiving scowl permanent to his features. She thought they were alone, except for the maid. His presence made her eye the exit once more.

“
Yes, Boss?”

“
Take a run up East 96th through 125th and put the word out that I’m looking for Little Will.”

“
Yes, Boss.”

“
Oh, and get a message to Mickey Collins, that I want the kid alive. He has a problem with that tell him to see me.”

“
Yes, Boss.”

Harmony blinked through her shock. Just like that and it was done. A cold wave of relief washed over her. She smiled at him. “Thank you so much, Mr. Romano. I mean Vinnie. I really don’t know how to repay you for this.”

Harmony rose. Romano looked up at her curiously. A tense silence enveloped and sealed the room.

“
When Willie comes home I’m sure he can clear it all up.” Harmony flashed him her prettiest smile. Her gaze switched to the exit once more.

Romano chuckled. His expression stilled and grew serious. “If he’s stealing from Mickey, you’ll have to. But I think it best you stay until we bring him in, don’t you?”

It was his turn to rise and she couldn’t help but admire how nicely he filled a suit. The man was tall. Why he never appeared as tall from across the dining room before confounded her. He had Lewis beat by an inch or two. Harmony squeezed the cool glass until spasmodic tremors cramped her hand. She stepped back. Romano closed the distance between them. She was forced to maintain his stare. Her breath solidified in her throat. “I don’t know it’s kinda late. I can give you my address. You could send word, maybe?”

“
I prefer something less formal.”

“
Like?”

“
Sing for me. Here. Now.”

“
Suga this ain’t The Cotton, and I don’t see Fletch Henderson’s orchestra.”
Could he be serious?
His eyes were a tawny shade of brown. Now she knew the color and couldn't remember why she wanted to in the first place. The man made her anxious to leave, to stay, to explain herself to the maid who was somewhere in this house judging her. She felt anxious all over. He was closer now, closer than any man besides Lewis had ever been. And with him standing so close she was forced to tilt her head and lift her chin a bit to maintain his stare. She had been right. There was an unspoken connection between them. A deep soul stirring familiarity would eventually lead them toward the forbidden. Secretly she had wanted a bit of forbidden.

It had been months ago when she first saw him. The nights he came, her eyes always drifted to him, drinking and smoking a cigar or a pipe in his private booth. He had such a magnetic pull on her she questioned her sanity at times when she performed and found herself disappointed he hadn’t come. Now here he was, and that strange feeling coursing through her veins wasn’t just anxiety, a bit of excitement stirred her heart to fluttering too.

His gaze lowered to her bosom and lingered there. Romano was so close, his touch was certain to come next. She knew it. She braced for it. Because his hands on her she wouldn’t allow. No matter what the circumstance, no man touched her unless she said so.

A thick membrane of tension swelled between him. Would he touch her, would he ask to, or would he walk away? Harmony held her breath prepared to deal with either outcome. Romano smirked then walked around her and away. “Saw Bessie Smith a few weeks ago,” he said, stopping in front of a shiny copper, mahogany and gold phonograph. “Next to you she’s my favorite singer.”

“
You like jazz?” Harmony asked, realizing immediately how stupid the question was.

“
Surprised? I love jazz, thanks to you.”

“
Me?”

“
Do you know her?”

“
No.”
Did he think all Negroes knew each other?
“I’ve met her, saw her perform that is, and met her twice after but I don’t know her.” She quickly answered. Harmony watched him wind the handle of the crank on the side of the player, then drop the needle down on the record.
So he owned race music?
Why was she surprised? If he didn’t have an affinity for her talents or her music she would’ve never gotten through the door. Turning, Romano removed his suit jacket and tossed it to the chair without a thought. She figured money and nice things came easy to him. She figured a woman like her came easy as well.

“
My song?” he spoke, the huskiness lingered in his tone. One of Bessie’s recent recordings filled the room. But Romano wanted his own rendition. Is this why he brought her here? A private show? Harmony felt a tinge of disappointment. Here she was thinking the man had deeper desires. Or was she looking for an excuse to act on her own?

“
I’m waiting,” he said, extending his hand.

The symphony that played about them was sweetly enticing. Harmony itched down in her throat to join in the melody. She knew this song, had sang it before. She reached for his hand then stepped into his arms, now humming through the intro. Other than Lewis, she’d never been in a man’s arms. She found
Vincenzio
Romano’s embrace oddly enticing. So much so, she began to relax. Soon she swayed to the music, singing softly into his ear. Her pelvis brushed hard steel between his legs and she nearly fumbled over a note in the song. Romano kept her close. When he gave her a slight turn through their slow rhythmic dance she caught a glimpse of the maid Mabel peeking in at them. The look on Mabel's face said it all.

For Willie, everything I do tonight is for Willie, and a maybe a little bit for me.

Her hand barely draped over his right shoulder, because of his height her arm had extended straight. The other hand was clasped in his. Their dance was gentle almost innocent. Almost. One look into Romano’s eyes and she knew his intent. Milo had been right, bargain with the devil he’ll take you for a ride.

Romano’s large hands clasped her hips. Harmony forced a demure smile and ignored the pretzel tight knot in her stomach from having his hot palms pressed so firmly to her. When the tightness of his touch eased and his thick fingers smoothly slipped down and around to her rear, terrible regrets assailed her. She closed her eyes and tried her best not to react, having decided when she accepted his hand that she’d let him hold her. Instead she let her singing keep her calm. Romano responded in the like, he rubbed the side of his face against her cheek, with his body somewhat leaned into hers to keep her close. The gruff on his cheek wasn’t rough, the way she imagined it would be. The way Lewis’s cheek was.

Harmony softened. So did the knot of anxiety twisting through her stomach since the moment she approached the mob boss’s table. Even the maid spying didn’t unsettle her. Nothing could touch her when she sang. When the record stopped, she continued to hum in time with the scratch-and-bump of the needle, having no need or use for a melody other than her own. It took her several moments to realize the dance should have ended. Lifting her head from his shoulder, she tried to pull back. But he held her firm. Their faces were inches apart, and she knew he’d see the blush cover her cheeks.

Words he hadn’t spoken since he parted the shores of Sicily escaped him. He whispered them forgetting she didn’t understand his language. He wanted to stop time. Never in his life had a woman’s voice had such an affect on him. Silently he had craved her for months after the first time he heard her sing. He bought all the jazz records he could, trying to capture the calm soothing feeling of her voice that chipped at the iceberg in his chest most would call a heart. The first time he’d seen her she’d caught him by surprise. He had Madden brought to his table immediately to tell him who she was. And weekly no matter the commitment, he’d carve out time for at least one visit to The Cotton to see her perform.

Once he had arrived and found it was her day off. Enraged, he nearly clued his men into his obsession. Now she was here, in his arms, and singing more beautifully than he ever recalled.

“
That’s the tops, sweet,” he smirked.

“
Thank you,” she whispered, swaying in his arms.

“
I’ve watched you for weeks. Listened to you.”

“
I know. I’ve noticed,” she said softly. “Thanks for the tips.”

“
You knew they were from me?”

“
I do now,” she winked.

His chuckle came from a deep hollow space in his throat. One could easily forget that this man was as ruthless as he was handsome. His humor simmered to a low groan. “Smart girl.”