He shrugged, his face impish. “I’m partial to blondes. Hannah, right?”
She nodded, startled he knew her name. “And you are…”
“James DeMora, but you can call me Jack. All my friends do.” He offered her his hand and she shook it. It felt like a bear paw must. “I sometimes work for Al as a bodyguard among my many other talents.”
“Modest too, I see,” she joked, not daring to ask what other talents he might be referring to. She didn’t want to know. Mama hadn’t been entirely wrong about curiosity killing the cat and in Johnny’s circle too many questions could be bad. “So, you know Johnny, do you?”
“Yeah, unfortunately.” He made a face.
“What do you mean,” she asked, not at all sure if he was being insulting.
“Hey, just that I don’t go outta my way to encroach on someone else’s turf, but in your case I’d get myself killed makin’ the exception.”
She relaxed, flattered. A flirting man was something she could handle.
“Can’t help myself. I got this weakness for blonde canaries with voices like angels and seein’ you sing tonight…well I said to myself, Jack, now she’s a dame worth lookin’ at twice. I’m a bit of a music lover myself. I dance and play the ukulele.”
“That’s nice and it was so nice meeting you, Mr. DeMora,” she said, offering him her hand. She didn’t want to appear rude, but didn’t want to give him any ideas. “I’ve gotta get to my room and get back before my man starts wondering where I am. I’ll be seeing you later.”
He seemed amused by her haste. “Same here, Hannah and you’ll be seein’ me a lot sooner than later.”
The rogue. She laughed as she started away. “Maybe.”
“No maybes about it. I own the Green Mill. You’re gonna be singin’ there startin’ next week. Ask Gallo. We already shook on it. It’s a done deal.”
A done deal. No more surprises. It’s all up to you. Hannah felt agitated thinking about Johnny saying it was up to her to accept the job, all the while committing her behind her back.
She paced the room and found herself putting on the revealing dress Johnny had asked her not to wear. “I’ll show you, Mr. Johnny Gallo.” According to what Meg always said, a smart girl got a fella to act and do exactly what she wanted him to, all without his knowing it of course. She’d just have to teach Johnny that he shouldn’t make decisions for her, nor tell her what she could or couldn’t do, think, say or wear.
Despite her annoyance, her skin glowed with health and vigor. Her hair was short, yet curled in loose waves around her face. She refreshed her cosmetics and decorated her hair with a rose and sequins to match the dress. The liquor she’d imbibed earlier calmed her, but Johnny’s scheming had her riled. She was an independent woman, free to make her own choices and she would—always. She’d have to get that idea through to Johnny and soon. Especially when it came to her career. He had a tendency to be bossy and she had to keep on her toes to make sure he didn’t get carried away. She filled up her flask and stuffed it into her garter for later.
Several of the women including Mae hadn’t come back down and many had changed into swimsuits to go swimming. Hannah had been waiting inside the ballroom for an hour for Johnny to come out of the room where the men were holed up yet again when a stranger, a slick looking old gent approached her. He was dressed like a dandy. He was wearing a red satin smoking jacket and when he spoke to her his eyes were appraising. “You ever think about being in the movies, beautiful?”
Used to being told she was pretty, she said, “No, I love the movies, but I’m a singer.”
“Well, you should think about acting. Ever heard of Clara Bow? Hollywood actress with beauty, style, guts and verve, don’t I know?” He told her he was from Los Angeles and that he worked in the film industry. “You’d be some competition.”
His claims sounded genuine, but he might be lying to pick her up. Fellas lied all the time to get laid although she suspected this one preferred his own kind. “And, how do you know I have guts and verve, sir?”
He laughed. “I can tell.” He handed her a card. “Name is Nigel Schwartz, Schwartz Productions. You can call me Schwartzy.”
“Wow, Schwartzy, this says you’re a producer.” Hannah wasn’t really sure what a producer did, but the card looked official enough with its logo of a famous movie studio. “So, what’s California really like? I hear it has palm trees and everyone has a swimming pool and oil well in their backyard?”
“True, true and sometimes both.” He babbled. “We could send you up there for a screen test and you can see for yourself.”
“Are you kidding? You’d actually want me for a screen test?”
Schwartzy nodded. “Yes, I’ll be in town until the end of the week.”
“Oh wait, there’s my fell…uh…my manager,” said Hannah waving, her eyes lighting up the moment she spotted Johnny. She greeted him effusively and turned to introduce Nigel Schwartz. “He thinks I can be a movie star. Wants me to go to Hollywood for a screen test.”
Johnny put a proprietary arm around Hannah. “I thought I told you not to wear this.”
Nigel handed Johnny a card. “I was just telling the young lady she’d be a sensation.”
Johnny took the card, read it and handed it back. “Hannah’s already had success as a singer and she ain’t no actress.”
“Has an advantage with the talkies coming in then now, don’t she? This girl’s got it. Just look at her. I know star quality when I see it. I could help her.”
Holding onto her like a predator guarding his prey, his gaze steely, Johnny said, “Thanks, but no thanks, mister. Her future is here. She don’t need your help.”
“Johnny,” she sputtered, surprised by his rude behavior.
“Well, I was talking to the lady, don’t you know,” said Nigel stiffly, sounding miffed.
Johnny’s voice turned cold. “Anyone wants to talk to her, talks to me first and I say she ain’t interested.”
“Johnny!” Hannah was so mad she could spit bullets. How dare he be so rude and turn down an opportunity without even considering her opinion? Smiling tightly, she apologized to Nigel. “My, uh, manager is just being…overprotective. Of course, we’ll consider your offer. Now if you’ll excuse us please.”
Johnny let Hannah draw him away, but before she could turn to give him a piece of her mind, he stopped, refusing to move any further. Grabbing her chin, he forced her to look right into his eyes. His own narrowed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? You’re treatin’ me like a child, like I’m not capable of making decisions when it comes to my career.”
“You don’t trust me to know what I’m doing?”
“Yes…no…I don’t know.” She brought up the Green Mill. “You told me it’s up to me then went and made a deal behind my back. What’s up with that?”
“Excuse me for doing right by you, okay? It ain’t like you would have said no.”
“You lied to me though,” she hissed, frustrated.
“You’re calling me a liar?” His jaw tightened perceptively. His hand clenched around her arm like a band. “You think I’m not looking out for you?”
“What if I want to go to California and take a screen test?” She didn’t, but that wasn’t the point.
“Not happening.”
How dare he order her around?
His smile was taut. “Don’t make a scene. Not here…not now. And, I told you not to wear that dress.”
“I really don’t care,” she shouted, stamping her foot. And, she didn’t. Johnny’s actions were like sandpaper on her rebel soul, his tone an acid bath eating away at her heart.
“Well, I do,” he said flatly, his eyes black as a water bugs back. He forcefully dragged her to an alcove as far away from prying eyes as they could get and pushed her.
“Ouch, you hurt me.” She rubbed her arm, struggling to get past him. “Stop—”
The sound of the slap was as loud as a shotgun b
last and echoed. Holding a hand to her stinging cheek, Hannah felt the pain, and the humiliation. She was shocked beyond measure he had hit her. She blinked away the tears burning her eyes. She struggled to bite back the angry retorts crowding her throat. Her vision blurred momentarily as Johnny’s voice hissed in her ear.
“Don’t ever talk to me like that—ever, especially in public. I ain’t no hoary eyed panty waist. You’ll do what I tell ya to do, when I tell you to do it.” Johnny’s voice was rock hard, each cold word enunciated slowly. He shook her. “If I say you’re happy as a clam, you’ll be happy. And, if I say you’ll sing, you’ll sing and if I say forget California, you ain’t going. You’re spoiled, Hannah and I don’t mind spoiling you, but you will learn respect.”
She was so mad she was stuttering. “I’m…go…going back to the room.” Her whisper was as sharp as a stiletto and only a sliver of the fury she felt inside. Plenty of fellas manhandled their gals, but she’d never thought Johnny would be one of them. She was livid.
“Good. Go. I’ll be back later, much later,” he barked, his own anger palpable. He watched her with narrowed eyes as she slowly walked away. She kept her shoulders straight and chin high. She didn’t know if anyone had seen him smack her but surely it had been heard. It rankled and resentment poured through her and over her like water. She was surprised she wasn’t actually steaming like a tea kettle. She wanted to pack her bags and leave him tonight, forever, but leaving was out of the question because this place was so out of the way and forever, she just was too mad to know how she felt for sure.
His angry words echoed back and forth in her head. Hitting her! He’d gone way too far.
Boiling, she decided she didn’t want to go back to their room after all. She found herself heading to the library. She’d been fascinated earlier with the walls of books, the wood paneling and the weathered leather furniture groupings that spoke of wealth and comfort. She entered the library; her hands still balled in anger and kicked a stool out of her way. Walking to the furthest end of the room, she flopped into a high backed chair across from the massive fireplace, welcoming the warmth of the still burning fire, still unable to believe Johnny had had the gall to actually strike her.
Figures. Happiness could be fickle. One moment here, the next gone. Pulling out her thigh flask, she gulped her whiskey. Seeing an ashtray, she got a cigarette, blowing out smoke rings in angry puffs. “Oh Meggie, what am I gonna do now?
The voice, deep, male and amused came from the sofa behind her. “Problems, doll?”
Startled, she turned, dropping her cigarette. It was Jack DeMora, the owner of the Green Mill, her new employer. A little annoyed and very embarrassed she bent to pick up the cigarette. “You scared me half to death. I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
“Yeah, sorry. You seemed preoccupied when you came in so I didn’t say nothin’.”
“Good guess.”
He had an impish smile, though he was wearing another appalling suit with a striped tie this time. He had a book in his lap and was watching her. “Wanna talk about it?”
“Talking doesn’t change some things.”
“Sometimes it does and it ain’t like I’m a complete stranger since you’ll be working for me soon.”
She thanked him for the opportunity and found herself telling him how upset she’d been that Johnny had made the deal without really consulting her first. “Truth is, he made it sound like it was my deal to make and manager or not, I’m no child to be sheltered and lied to. After all, it is my career.”
“Honey, I agree with that. I understand, I do. You ain’t the kind of dame a fella should ever take for granted.”
“Tell that to Johnny.” .
“Dump him. I told you I’m a sucker for a pretty blonde.” Desire lined his face. “We’d be good together.”
“You aren’t shy, Mr. DeMora, but I’m not in the market for another man though it would serve Johnny right if I was.”
“Jack and hey, I’d settle for a one night stand with you and call it good.”
She laughed at his blatant attempt to take advantage of the situation. “That would be one way for me to assert my independence, but you and Johnny are friends and if I don’t dump him, we’ll all be workin’ together. That wouldn’t be very smart.”
“Hey, he and I, we ain’t such good friends and I’m good at separatin’ business from pleasure. Plus, smart or not, revenge is sweet.” He walked to the door, locked it and came back towards her. “Call me optimistic. I’m a good listener too.”
“I’d say ballsy.” She laughed again and sighed heavily. “Johnny smacked me tonight.”
Jack looked surprised. “He hit a delicate little thing like you? That ain’t right.”
“He’s never before.” She didn’t know why she’d defended him. It was the worst kind of betrayal and she wouldn’t stand for it. “It would serve him right if we…if I did—”
“Something daring?”
“I do like to think of myself as daring.”
“Then dare. Should I tell you the things I can do that will help you forget?”
She was just angry enough to take him up on his offer and she shocked herself. “Don’t tell—just do.”
He didn’t need any other invitation.
Johnny came back into the room in the wee hours of the morning. He woke her with kisses. He swore he hadn’t meant to slap her. He reminded her of how often she tested his patience. How before tonight he’d never touched her with anger. “It was a mistake, a fluke.” He swore it would never happen again.
Seeing the regret in his eyes, hearing it in his tone, seeing it in his face and knowing Johnny never apologized, Hannah felt undone. Why had she been so rash? At the time she’d been so angry she’d felt justified having her revenge by betraying him with another man. The urge to hurt him for hurting her had been too potent to resist. The need to assert her independence, to be daring and to prove no one owned her but herself had been compelling. But, when all was said and done, the pleasure had been momentary and now, the guilt felt sharp. Truth to tell, Johnny’s controlling ways infuriated her sometimes, but he was good to her. She loved him and he loved her. He never even looked at another woman. And, he’d forgiven her for her mistakes. She could do no less for him. She prayed he never found out and vowed never to be unfaithful to him again.
1924
NEW YORK
“He selleth an end to darkness and searcheth out all perfection; the
stones of darkness and the shades of Death.”
Job 18:3.6
15 CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Imagine that, little ole me in Manhattan,” said Hannah snuggling in bed with Johnny as the morning sun rose in the dusky sky over New York City. Her future looked brighter than ever. She and Johnny had their ups and downs the past few years in Chicago, but ever since their big rift, he’d never hit her again and she never encouraged another fella beyond the harmless flirting expected of a cabaret singer. “What other surprises do you have in store for me, handsome?”
“Ain’t it enough I got you a six hundred dollar Alaskan Seal coat, two Russian Sable evening wraps yesterday and played tourist guide all damned week too?”
She patted his cheek affectionately. “This truly has been one of the best weeks of my life.”
“Glad you think so doll. Between them romantic strolls through Central Park and that horse drawn carriage tour of the city, I had enough tourist traps to last me a lifetime.”
He had fidgeted through one Broadway play starring Mae West, another starring some comedienne he’d hated and spent a fortune showing her the sights. They’d eaten at Celano’s for Italian and hung out at Dave’s Blue Room on Seventh.
“Wait until you see our new place,” he said, telling her he’d picked the Brooklyn brownstone apartment building on Diamond Street because it was near a stoneware company, moulding factory and numerous old warehouses so people were sparse, but it was close to everything important. “It ain’t new, but we ain’t go
nna be living like no bums, that’s for sure. It’s being fixed up special as we speak.”
“I can’t wait. I’d hoped I’d end up here someday. Ahh, Fate.” She smiled, happy, serene. She’d been thrilled when she’d learned they would be moving to New York permanently.
He was a sucker for her smile. “Fate—crap. You’re born, ya got choices and ya die. You make your own Fate. Next thing you’ll be saying is you believe in Heaven and Hell.”
“I do,” she giggled. “The diamonds you got me sure are heavenly. I can’t believe how you haggled with those funny men in their dark suits, long beards and little beanies.”
“Orthodox Jews. Those little beanies they wear are called yarmulkes.”
“Oh,” she shrugged, fascinated. New York was filled with so many people from different cultures and endless interesting places and things. She couldn’t get over all the bridges, tunnels and ferries that led out to all the other parts of New York. Historic cities like New Jersey and Philadelphia were close by. The diamond district was only one place of many. They’d also gone to St. Patrick’s Cathedral where Johnny lit a candle, a novena. She’d been surprised, touched by the reverence and respect he’d shown towards his deceased mother. “Are you saying you don’t really believe in Heaven and Hell, a good Catholic boy like you?”
He dismissed the remark with a grimace. “I’ve never been good and I ain’t got much chance of going to heaven. Right here, right now is as good as it gets for me.”
She sighed, stretching languorously. “I can’t believe we saw the famous Dorothy Parker at the Twenty-One Club.”
He snorted. “Big deal, Han. Those folks eat and crap like anyone else.”
“Oh, Johnny,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him. “Nothing you can say could ruin this for me, nothing. Especially us stayin’ here in the luxurious Ambassador on fifty-first no less, in the heart of it all. How exciting is that?”
Her joy was contagious. He smiled. “This is only the beginning of good things for both of us, Han. Didn’t I promise you this move would benefit us both?”
The Songbird with Sapphire Eyes Page 19
