Speak Easy (11 page)

Mary Grace smiled. “She
is
bossy.”

“OK, that’s enough. Back to bed now.” Taking Mary Grace by the shoulders, I turned her toward the hall.

She looked up at Joey. “My Daddy isn’t here. Are you staying for the rest of the night?” The hope in her voice was undeniable, and I realized she wanted him to stay—she probably felt better having a man in the house. My heart sank to the bottom of my chest.

He glanced at me. “Well, I have to go someplace right now, but maybe I’ll come back.”

“Good,” she said. Then she looked at me. “I miss Daddy.”

“He’ll be home soon, honey.” God, I hoped that was the truth. “Now go on upstairs. I’ll be up in a minute.”

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” With her worried blue eyes on me, I couldn’t say no.

“OK, just this once. Scoot.” I swatted her backside lightly and sent her down the hall. The stairs creaked as she went up.

“She’s scared,” Joey said softly.

I nodded and turned off the light, my throat closing. “She’s not the only one.” When I started for the back door, Joey stopped me with a hand on the shoulder. My heart began to beat faster.
I shouldn’t have turned off the light.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he whispered. “Or to them.”

“You can’t tell the future.”

“I’m not talking about telling the future. I’m making you a promise.”

My throat was too tight for words.

“I’ll be back tonight.”

I struggled to speak. “Do you…do you want a key?”

“Yes.”

I retrieved our extra house key from a pantry shelf. When I handed it to him, our fingers brushed, and I pulled mine away quickly.

“Thanks. Now try to get some sleep.”

“Won’t be easy with Mary Grace in my bed. She kicks,” I said, feeling the need to make a joke.

“You can always come down and sleep on the sofa with me. I can’t promise to keep my hands to myself, but I won’t kick you.”

I love your hands.
“Joey?”

“Yeah?”

“You better go.”

Chapter Eleven

I woke the next morning to the sound of music and the smell of frying sausage. Breathing deeply, I stretched, checked the clock, and blinked in surprise. After nine already? It was hard to believe I’d slept that long, considering everything that happened last night, but for the first time this week I felt somewhat rested. The spot next to me was empty except for Mary Grace’s stuffed bear, so I pulled on my robe and headed down the stairs, hoping Molly had put coffee on with whatever they were scrounging up for breakfast.

First thing, I need to get those forty bottles sold, place another order, and—

I stopped short at the doorway to the kitchen, my mouth falling open.

Joey stood at the counter with a red apron over his clothes, stirring something in a mixing bowl. Molly was pouring coffee, and Mary Grace sat on top of the kitchen table nibbling a sausage patty. Someone had turned up the radio in the front room, and Henry Burr’s throaty Irish tenor filled the air. I pulled my robe tighter around me.

“She wakes!” shouted Joey. He wiped his hands on the apron and faced me. “And she looks funny in the morning. I didn’t know a girl’s hair could stick out that way.”

The girls giggled as I tried to smooth my wayward hair. “What are you doing?”

“I’m making breakfast, although it’s not easy with the scarcity of groceries in this house. For cryin’ out loud, Tiny, no wonder your growth is stunted!” My sisters screeched with laughter while I frowned.

“So what are you making then?”

“Well, when I saw the bare cupboards and the poor hungry children living here, I ran down to Bridget’s and begged for food. Mary Grace helped me fry the sausage, Molly made coffee, and now I’m making pancakes.” He gestured toward the mixing bowl.

“You know how to make pancakes?”

He rolled his eyes. “It’s not hard, Tiny. You measure, mix, and throw them on the griddle.” He’d removed the bandage from his temple. The welt had gone down but the jagged cut above it looked red and angry. He was still wearing his clothing from last night, although he’d wet his hair in an effort to tame it.

“Joey said he’d teach me how to make spaghetti sauce this afternoon,” said Molly, beaming as she sat down at the table.

“Gravy,” he corrected. “And I have to get some ingredients first, so that won’t be till later. We’ll make supper.” He turned on the gas under a cast iron skillet and threw a hunk of butter in it. As it melted and sizzled, Joey stirred the batter and sang along with Henry, loudly and totally off key.

“Lord, Joey, that’s awful.” Molly put her hands to her ears. “You’re worse than Tiny, and she’s pretty bad.”

I shot her an evil eye, and crossed my arms. Something about the scene was throwing me off-kilter, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

“Can I pour the batter on?” Mary Grace pleaded, hopping off the table. She grabbed the ladle from a drawer.

“Sure. Come here.” Joey let her stand in front of him and put his hands over hers, one on the ladle and one on the edge of the bowl. “Now, scoop some…and carefully bring it over to the skillet…then dump it in.” He guided her arms and she managed to do it without dripping any batter on the floor or counter. I watched his hands over hers and felt a ridiculous tug of envy, but I also felt a ripple of warmth. It was good to see my sisters laughing, unaware of the trouble brewing outside their door.

“I need to get dressed,” I said, backing out of the room. Ascending the stairs slowly, I put a hand over my stomach and wondered why it felt so unsettled. The girls were safe, they didn’t know anything was amiss with Daddy, and I was halfway to making the ransom. I’d gotten the information Sam wanted, and Joey had said he’d negotiate with Sam. Maybe he’d even let me buy some of the stolen rum. I dropped my hand, my shoulders straightening up.
Yes, that’s it.
Authentic rum was a rarity around here—our regular customers might not need more whisky yet, but perhaps they’d be willing to buy something more exotic.

Relieved for the moment, I decided I’d take a bath and wash my hair before dressing. I locked the bathroom door and turned on the water, letting it run over my hand as it warmed up. Tonight I’d go back to the club and deliver the six hundred to Enzo. I was thinking about buying a new dress to wear when a jolt of good sense struck me.

You’re supposed to stay away from him, remember? It shouldn’t matter what you look like—you’re going to give him the money and get out.

I put the stopper in the drain and let the tub fill. Dropping my robe and nightgown to the floor, I climbed in and stretched out in the warm water. I could still hear the music from downstairs, and Joey’s off-key baritone carried too. Humming along, I ran my hands over my stomach and small breasts. They’d taken forever to grow beyond walnut-size but they were a little bigger now, maybe half-an-orange-sized. I squeezed them gently, and when my nipples beaded I circled my palms over them lightly.
I’m going to hell for this.
But I closed my eyes and imagined the hands were someone else’s.

#

By the time I was dressed, my hair neat and dry, the girls had finished eating and the dishes were done. “I don’t believe it,” I said, pouring myself a cup of coffee. “I didn’t even hear any yelling down here.”

“They never complained once.” Joey had taken off the apron and was seated in a chair at the table, tilting its legs back. “Just did them without being asked, then disappeared out the back door.”

“Where’d they go?”

He looked blank and let the chair’s front legs hit the floor. “Oops—I didn’t ask.”

“It’s all right. They can’t get far.” I took a seat next to him.

“Are you hungry?” He slid a plate of pancakes and sausage across the checkered tablecloth.

“Mmm, thanks.” I picked up the maple syrup and poured some on. “How’s your head this morning?”

“It’s OK.”

“What did Sam say last night?” I asked, cutting into the pancakes.

“He won’t bother you this week.”

“Good.” I swallowed a syrupy bite, savoring its sweetness. “What about the rum?”

He brought his cup to his lips and took a long swallow before answering. “We wait at the tracks for the shipment and steal it. Or maybe hijack them on the road back. Sam hasn’t decided yet.”

Laying down the fork, I pushed the plate away from me. “Should I expect you back here at two in the morning again? Perhaps with a bullet in your chest?”

“Don’t worry about it. You gonna give that money to the cake-eater tonight?”

“I suppose so.”

“Don’t go to the club alone.” He drank again. “I wish we knew where they were keeping your pop. You think he’s there in the building somewhere?”

“Enzo said he wasn’t.”

Joey rolled his eyes. “And we all know Enzo’s on the level.”

My face got hot. “I’m just telling you what he said.”

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, that guy’s word is worth less than a load of pig shit. I told you not to trust him.”

“I don’t trust anybody!”

“Not even me?” His tone dared me to admit it.

I swallowed.

“You don’t.”

Staring at his scraped-up hands holding the cup, I said, “I’m just scared.”

“Look at me.” I lifted my eyes to his. “I made you a promise last night. I intend to keep it.”

“But you’re going to that hijacking tonight, and if you’re shot or—”

“Nothing will happen to me.”

“Vince probably said the same thing to Bridget before he left for the police station that day.” It was out before I even realized I was comparing us to my sister and her husband.

He took a deep breath before speaking. “That was different. Vince and those guys were totally unprepared. They got ambushed. We’re planning things carefully and they don’t know we’re coming.”

“That’s an ambush,” I pointed out. “Just as many people could wind up dead. And what if Angel somehow figures out it was me who told you guys when the rum would be here?”

Joey shook his head. “He won’t. Far as he knows, there’s no connection between you and the River Gang.”

“
You’re
the connection. He met you at the club, remember?” I recalled how Angel had reacted upon hearing Joey’s name. “Maybe he remembers your father.”

“Angel’s not gonna be at the tracks tonight,” Joey said irritably, getting up from the table. “You think he drives his own trucks?” He set his coffee cup in the sink.

“Enzo met you too.”

He spun around. “Enzo won’t be driving the trucks either,” he snapped, his face reddening with anger. “Those two fucking dandies don’t do the heavy lifting. And even if he is there, we’ll have masks on, so he won’t be able to recognize me.”

Masks. Oh, God.
“Joey, please let them steal the rum without you. You don’t have to do this gang stuff—you could get a regular job.”

“A regular job?” He said it as if I’d suggested he ingest mustard gas for fun. “
A regular job?
You know who drives the nice cars in my neighborhood, Tiny? You know who has the fancy clothes, the big bankroll, the nicest houses?”

Of course I did—men with Cadillacs and bodyguards who carried machine guns. Men who had apartments in high-rises. Slick custom suits.
Hooded eyes and beautiful lips.
“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll be damned if I spend sixty hours a week on an assembly line for a few bucks a day just to make rent. Other schmucks can sweat blood working those jobs, but not me.” The cut on his temple started to bleed. “And you wouldn’t do it either.”

“Yes, I would. It’s honest work. And anyone can make his way up.” Standing, I picked up a clean napkin and reached to dab the blood on his head, but he backed away from my hand.

“Ha. That’s a
movie
. And here’s the thing about the movies, Tiny. They make you want things.” He poked his chest. “I’m gonna get those things.”

I pitched the napkin onto the table. “You’re gonna end up like your father, Joey! These aren’t toy guns you guys carry around. It’s dangerous!”

“Now who’s treating who like a child?”

I opened my mouth and snapped it shut again.

“I’m sorry you’re scared.” His voice was low but firm. “But I’m going. And whatever I make off the heist tonight, I’ll share with you. You need me to be there.”

My gaze leveled his. “Don’t say you’re doing this for me.”

“I’m not doing this for you.”

I’d sort of hoped he might argue with me.

#

I usually worked for Bridget on Wednesdays since it was Martin’s day off, but when I checked in with her at the store, she said she could get along without me for the day. Something in her expression stopped me from rushing out, though. I waited until the store was clear of shoppers to ask about it.

“What’s with the shifty eyes? Are there cops sniffing around?”

“No.” She chewed her lip as she straightened boxes of chewing gum and penny candy on the counter.

“Then what?”

She faced me. “Where’s Daddy? Has he even called?”

My stomach dropped. “Yeah, last night. He got some work down in Ohio, fixing up cars. I told him he might as well stay and make the money. The girls and I are fine.”

“Joey spent the night at the house, I hear.”

“Yeah. He hurt his head on his car door and thought I’d play nurse for him. I didn’t think he should drive home with the injury. He was feeling dizzy.” Lies were rolling from my tongue like Model T’s off the line.

“I saw his head. Looks like it hurts.” She picked up a dust cloth and began wiping down the wood, eyebrows lifted.

“What, Bridget?”

“Well, one day you can’t stand him, a few days later he’s sleeping at your house with Daddy out of town. If the neighbors saw…”

I rolled my eyes. “Who the hell cares about the neighbors? We’re friends.”

“Last week he was a pain in the ass, now he’s your friend.” She looked up at me out of the corner of one eye. “He’s not the boy you told me about kissing, is he?”

“No!” I shouted. But my cheeks burned as I recalled kissing him on the boat. “He’s
Joey
, for cryin’ out loud!”

She put her palms up toward me. “OK, OK. If you say so. It’s just that I’ve noticed a difference in him when he talks about you, that’s all.”

“Well, you can forget it. He annoys me just as much as he always has, maybe more. Now if you’re done with the inquisition into my virtue, which I assure you is still intact, I’m going to box up a few groceries for home and run some errands.”

She set the cloth aside and grabbed a box for me, but I felt her watchful eye while I chose some things to bring home.
Please, God, let this be over soon
, I prayed. The longer Daddy was gone, the harder it was for me to keep the truth from my sisters.

And what the hell did she mean about noticing a difference in the way Joey talks about me?

#

After dropping the food off at home, I went to the bakery to see Evelyn. I felt awful about leaving her behind last night and wanted to make it up to her. She took a break and sat with me at a small wrought iron café table on the sidewalk in front, bringing me a cinnamon bun and cup of coffee. For once the temperature wasn’t so high, and the humidity was down. Sitting out in the sunshine actually felt good. “Thanks. This looks delicious.”

“It is,” she assured me.

I dug in, polishing off the entire bun in a few minutes. “So,” I said, licking the icing from my fingers, “how would you like to go to Club 23 tonight?” I figured I’d have a better chance of staying out of trouble with Enzo if she was there.

Her face lit up. “Really? I’d love to!”

“Great. Hey, do you want to come over for supper too?”

She looked dubious. “What are you making?”

“Joey’s making spaghetti. He’s giving Molly a cooking lesson, supposedly.”

“Joey cooks?”

“His mother runs a restaurant, so maybe she taught him.” I dotted my finger in the crumbs on my plate and brought them to my mouth. “Hey Evvy, you don’t know anyone that needs any whisky, do you? I’m sitting on forty bottles I need to get rid of.”

“Hmmmm.” She thought for a moment, chewing on her full bottom lip. “You know, the Andersons just picked up a huge order here for their daughter’s wedding. Maybe they need some.”