Jezebel (8 page)

“
Sorry about this,”
one of his companions grunted behind him. “Max is drunk off his
rocker.” The two men reached around again, and pulled backward,
but the penguin didn’t budge.

“
Ain’t she
beautiful boss,” Max wheezed, nodding at her.

As if he’d uttered the
magic words, both of Max’s companions popped from behind him to
investigate. Despite their tuxedos, Celeste smelled made men.

“
Can
you believe this?” one of Max’s associates grumbled.
“We’re breaking our necks and he’s wooing some
dame.”

“
She
is beautiful,” his companion conceded, his Brooklyn accent
thick and sugared, “and taken.”

The shortest of the three
glanced at Shane. His blue eyes narrowed and a smile that didn’t
enhance his otherwise plain looks curled his thin lips. Cruel lips,
Celeste noted.

“
Well…well
what do we have here? If it isn’t Sugar Shane Brennan.”

“
Gould,” Shane
said, acknowledging the other man with only a cursory glance.

Despite the obvious brush
off, Gould
grabbed
a chair from the adjacent table and sat down between them.

Without his support, the
penguin teetered backward. A quick thinker, his companion used the
penguin’s weight, added some momentum and then pushed him into
an occupied booth. A
few choice words and
the
booth’s occupants scurried out the other end.

“
Now, Shaney boy, is
that any kind of way to greet a friend.”

Still
refusing to make eye contact, Shane drew a few puffs from his cigar.
“We’re not friends.
Never have
been, never will be.”

“
Well pardon me.”
Gould’s gaze met hers and then drifted back to Shane. He made
her uneasy, gangsters had never been her cup of tea
.
“Maybe we’re not friends, but we are business associates
and don’t you forget it.”

Expression
still guarded,
S
hane
flicked an ash in the glass cigarette tray on their table.
“Impossible. You’re not going to let me.”

Gould burst out laughing, a
manic display that scared the shit out of Celeste. So much so, when
he smacked his palm against the table, she jumped. Like a shark drawn
to fear, her squirrelly reaction drew his regard.
Celeste
stifled a shiver. His
overt
display
of amusement didn’t
quite
match his
ice
-blue
stare
.

“
Sorry, sister, I get
carried away sometimes.”

“
No harm done,”
Celeste lied.

“
You know you really
are a
peach
.”
Gould leaned toward her. “Are you going to introduce me to
the
lovely lady?”

“
She’s none of
your business, Gould.” To Celeste’s surprise, Shane stood
up and pulled her with him. “Come on let’s dance.”

“
I don’t want to
dance.” Celeste dug in her heels. Well not with him anyway.
The way her body reacted around him, she didn’t trust herself.

“
I thought you were a
hoofer.”

“
One of the best,”
she said, but realizing too late he’d baited her.

“
Then show me what
you’ve got.” Shane didn’t wait around to hear her
objection. He turned on his heel with her in tow.

Shane circled around the
dining area and the main bar. Thankfully, he kept his pace at a
minimum or she would’ve been knee deep in the club’s
royal blue carpeting. Still, the courtesy he afforded her couldn’t
mitigate her mounting anger, which rose to an alarming level as he
bypassed the entrance to the dance floor.

Fed up and feeling duped,
Celeste yanked her hand from his. “What are you trying to
pull?”

“
I’m not pulling
anything.”

He reached for her again,
but Celeste sidestepped him. “I’m not going anywhere with
you.”

“
Don’t
you realize
I
’m
doing you a favor
?
”

“
A favor? You call
dragging me all over this goddam
place
a favor?”
His
expression hardened.
Celeste
didn’t care. She needed
a
drink badly and this was the only way she could
release
some steam.

Shane
stuffed his hands in his pants pockets.
“
Abraham
Gould’s
a bad guy.”

“
Gould’s a bad
guy? Gould’s a bad guy?” With each syllable, her voice
increased in volume.
She
didn’t care. Her belly was screaming for bourbon.

“
I don’t think
you should get mixed up with him.”

Celeste couldn’t
believe it. He’d ignored her for a good part of the evening
and here he was acting all
noble
.
Her
insecurities swept aside by anger,
Celeste’s
spunk returned. S
he
stepped
closer
and
placed her
hands on his coat lapels.

Up close and personal, Shane
Brennan
appeared
larger than life! Taller, eyes greener, shoulders wider and lips
fuller, he was beyond handsome. Distracted, Celeste lost her train
of thought.

Well, not entirely. Her
mind had drifted to other things like wrapping her arms around him
and swapping oxygen.

Come on, sister, don’t
backtrack on me now!
While
she pulled it together, she took comfort in the rapid rise and fall
of his chest, which proved he wasn’t entirely indifferent
to her
. Good!
It was his turn to take his own medicine.

“
You’re in
luck.” Celeste paused to pick a piece of imaginary l
i
nt
from his lapel. Apparently unnerved by her antics, Shane rolled his
shoulders and his Adam’s apple jumped as if he was having
difficulty breathing.

Emboldened,
she went
in
for the kill
.
She
leaned up
on the tips of her Mary Jane’s
,
matching their noses up.

“
I don’t want to
get mixed up with either of you
,”
she said in a slightly lower octave, which many of her former lovers
deemed wantonly sexy
.
“
Now if
you would excuse me

there
are things to see and people to do.”

Instead of going back to
their table, Celeste made a beeline for backstage.

* * *

“
Whoa, ho,
sweet
mama! Soak up
the
gams
on that one, boss! Bet you her snatch is a lollapalooza.”

“
For sure, Saul. She
probably gets nice an’ wet.”

Dangerously close to jumping
up from his seat and pounding the shit out of Gould and his goons,
Shane dug in his heels. If he split hairs with any of those
greasers, Shane could kiss his shot at the
light
heavyweight
title goodbye. Well connected in the underworld, Gould’s
associates ran The Garden with an iron fist.

“
Shaney, what ya
think?” Gould yelled over the thundering noise of the crowd.
“You think I have a chance with one of those gals?”

Hating himself and his
irrevocable link to Gould, Shane took his time turning around.
Halfway shit faced, the Jewish gangster’s pale as milk
complexion had turned ruddy with red splotches. It wasn’t a
good look for the shorter man whose attractiveness improved
with
the number of drinks one imbibed.

“
Course, I’m not
hadres-ponemas
,
handsome like you.” Gould cupped his hands over his heart and
batted his lashes.

“
Saul tells me all the
show
girls
love egg and butter men no matter what they look like.”

Gould’s sly jab hit
its mark. Angered, yet unable to rearrange a mug or three,
Shane
silently crushed his cigar in his hands. Ignoring the burning ash
sifting through his fingers,
Shane
stood up.

“
Where’re you
going?” Gould asked,
pouring
himself
another round. “I wanna buy you a drink to celebrate our new
partnership.”

“
To the men’s
room,” Shane held up his hands for inspection, “they’re
dirty.”

Gould’s gaze narrowed.
“It gets like that some times. But no matter how dirty they
get, you never forget those same hands feed you.”

Gould’s innuendo
didn’t fall on deaf ears. Shane chose not to acknowledge it.
He turned on his heels then navigated his way past the main bar to
coat check. Halfway there, Shane realized he didn’t have the
ticket.

Bristling, Shane turned
about. His luck couldn’t get any worse! Not only had
Gould
ruined his evening, but now he had to go groveling to a broad that
wanted nothing to do with him.

Shane ground his teeth as
scanned the ballroom and dining area. It wasn’t too hard to
find trouble. It never looked so damn good
or had so much spunk
.

As if he’d conjured
her, Celeste materialized from the crowd.
In one hand she held a cocktail glass, in the other a bottle of
liquor.

Carefree,
she nursed her drink in between bites of conversation with no one in
particular. She never stayed for long, but kept moving, avoiding
commitment.

A peach of a girl, she was
all-ripe and golden, like a piece of Bit-O-Honey one of his favorite
penny candies. Unconsciously swiping at his mouth, Shane imagined her
skin tasting as sweet.

Her hair, which barely
grazed her shoulders, was as black as licorice just like her eyes.
Cat eyes, they called them because they tipped upward slightly in the
corner and
flecks
of
brown
twinkled in them when
ever
the stage lights shifted.

Just
watching her made him feel alive as if jumpstarted by a sudden kick
of electricity. The more he looked, the more he wanted.

Perplexed by his growing
interest, Shane frowned.
Why her?

Celeste Newsome was a
good-looking dame, but she wasn’t his type. No way, no how!
T
hey
were like night and day.

Raised on a dirt farm
outside Chattanooga Tennessee, Shane preferred country girls, looking
to raise a family, take care of their man. Not a good time girl, who
probably ate her man for breakfast.

Still, he couldn’t
deny the pump of adrenaline rushing through him at the prospect of
their paths crossing again or the emotions she elicited in him. For
some reason, she made him feel both carnal and protective. And for
the first time in his twenty-nine years, Shane wanted to take care of
someone other than himself.

Shane silently cursed his
luck. Celeste Newsome was a beautiful disaster he would be smart to
steer clear of. Unfortunately, he’d never been accused of being
Einstein.

“
Hey Daddy Long-legs,
you wanna dance?”

Shane tracked the nails on
chalk–board whine to a bottle redhead barely reaching his
armpit. He took in her garish bow-painted, thin lips and promptly
dismissed her.

“
I said do you wanna
dance?”
s
he
squeaked, looping her arm
through
his.

“
No,” Shane said
without taking his eyes off Celeste.

“
Hells bells,
Charlie!
”
Her bone grinding screech made him grit his teeth. “
You
came to pick up one of them shines,” she spat.

“
What did you say?”
Shane grabbed the woman’s hand and squeezed. “My name
isn’t Charlie.” He squeezed harder. “
And
the reason
I’m
here is none of your business.”

“
O
-
w
-w-w,
you’re
hurting me
,”
the redhead whined. “
I
didn’t mean anything by it. Please, mister, let me go.”