The bird screeched loudly.
Josie chuckled. “Lordy gal, ain’t nobody gonna keep comin’ after all this time if’n you wasn’t good enough. And, you gotta admit, bonkin’ the boss pays benefits. Not only does that man adore you, he puts up with that poor little captive pigeon, noisy and messy as she be.”
“Free isn’t a pigeon, she’s a canary. And I know she’s messy and noisy, but I love her. And, truth is, some birds like livin’ in cages.”
Josie’s eyes narrowed. “How you know that?”
Hannah explained. “When I first got her, I left the cage door open for a week and she didn’t even try to leave. Believe me, I would have let her go, but she feels safer in there. It is kind of sad, but Johnny said that on her own she’d never survive.”
Josie shrugged. “Maybe that there is one smart ducky, after all? Gets taken care of, three squares a day and all she’s got ta do is sing and look pretty.”
Hannah snorted, handing Josie her tea. “Yeah, kinda sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”
“Nah, she got it better than you. She don’t gotta put out.”
They both laughed and Hannah returned to the subject in hand. “As for talking to Johnny about Shotzi’s idea, it isn’t as simple as that. Two acts do give the customers more variety and if the customers are happier it means more money for everybody. Week nights are slow. Johnny likes the idea a lot I am sure more because it keeps me at home than for the money.”
“But you got folks who come in just to see you dat time.”
“I know.” Hannah’s eyes were mischievous. “I could take Mr. Fontana up on his offer to work at The Flapper. It’s a little smaller, but he offered four weekends a month and Wednesdays. Said he’d match my pay.”
Josie’s eyes narrowed. “You can’t do dat and you knows it, girl.”
“I know, but it’s tempting.” Hannah told Josie more about Chicago. “You remember I worked at a place called the Green Mill? Well, my boss James DeMora also goes by the name of Jack McGurn. Does that ring any bells?”
Josie’s eyes widened. “Ain’t that the fella behind an attack on some comedian, name of Joe Lewis?”
Hannah nodded. “Yes, but I can’t see Jack being capable of cutting someone’s throat just because they quit. He was a pussycat to me.” He’d been the sole of discretion, never inappropriate or doing anything to betray their tryst. What happened at the Remus party had stayed there. She’d been grateful for his discretion and had considered him a good boss and a good friend.
“Well, it ain’t like you don’t got someone scary lookin’ out for you.”
“Not scary enough. Because of all the gang wars in Chicago we had at least two bodyguards everywhere we went. Oh and I might have a recording contract in the works. QRS records, not a famous label like Columbia, Black Swan, or Paramount, but a good one. Do you know, ‘Death Sting me Blues.” She hummed it.
“Clarence Williams Orchestra.” Josie guessed. The knock on the door startled them both.
Jimmy came striding in carrying several grocery bags in his arms. His cheeks, ears and nose were red, his clothes and hair snow dusted.
Josie whisked out the feather duster. “Hey you, don’t you dare come inta this house without dustin’ off dem boots.”
Jimmy looking annoyed, but backed up to the hall obediently.
“Keep on goin’,” yelled Josie fiercely, brandishing the feather duster like a sword.
“Ouch, watch that thing, will ya? I’m out here, ain’t I,” yelled Jimmy when Josie started beating him with the feather duster.
“Just tryin’ ta help get the snow off.”
“Yeah, right. You just like hitting me you ornery bitch.”
“Watch who you callin’ names, boy!”
Laughing, Hannah wound up the victrola, sitting down to work on her music. She was plotting songs and ideas for the show. She was hard put not to laugh again when Josie followed Jimmy into the kitchen, pointing out where he should put the groceries, telling him not to disappear until he moved some furniture and took the garbage out.
Jimmy disappeared with the garbage and the excuse that he had to check on the car. He didn’t return until two hours later when Josie was near finishing her magic, making the apartment shine. Hannah began setting out corned beef, roast beef and pastrami sandwiches. She ordered both of them to sit. “We’ll have a nice, cozy lunch before Jimmy takes you home, Jo.”
“I don’t need no boy just outta short pants ta take me nowhere.”
Putting a hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, Hannah frowned. “Jimmy’s doing me a favor takin’ you home in this weather. I’d worry sick otherwise. Please, Josie.”
Rolling her eyes, Josie sat down. She picked up a napkin. “Okay, but not because I got any faith in him.”
Jimmy just about to reach for a pickle froze. “Why you ungrateful uppity—”
“Jimmy, please,” Hannah whispered, nudging him. “Josie, be nice.” The two of them acted like two dogs fighting over a bone with her being the bone.
Meeting Hannah’s gaze, Jimmy’s green eyes spoke volumes, but he shut up.
“I expect lunch to be pleasant and peaceful.” Hannah put her napkin on her lap. She urged them to eat. “Oh-my-God. I almost forgot to tell you. Remember my friend, Rosie?”
Josie turned her head. “Da wild flapper girl, the one drives her own car?”
“Yes. Well, she has herself two twin girls now, about three years old.” Hannah looked bemused as she ate a pickle, crunched it. “One of them is like Rosie, wild as a March hare and the other; well she is the quiet one. Anyway, both girls keep them hopping and Rosie just found out she’s pregnant again. She and Mikey are actually ecstatic.” Hannah’s own fears about pregnancy and birth bordered on horror.
“Well, havin’ babies is good.” Josie said she’d like to have children someday too. “Dats if I ever finds me a fella I can git along wit.”
“Fella would have to be made outta wood to get along with you.”
Josie walked towards the bathroom mumbling under her breath.
Jimmy reached for another sandwich. “I want kids someday too, most fellas do. Seein’ how Mr. Gallo dotes on that boy of his is inspirin’.” Jimmy wiped the edge of his mouth with his napkin. He helped himself to some potato salad.
“You’re mistakin’, Jim. Johnny doesn’t have a kid.”
Jimmy looked shocked and then after a few seconds shrugged. “I could have sworn Turk said he did. There’s a picture of the kid in that fancy upstairs office Mr. Gallo’s got. He doesn’t look like Mr. Gallo, too fair skinned but nice looking all the same. Charlie told Turk that the boss goes to visit the boy every month or so. Keeps him in some hotsy-totsy boarding school in upstate New York that costs a pretty penny.”
Hannah’s mind went blank. Fancy upstairs office? A photo of some kid the fellas thought was Johnny’s son? For an instant she struggled to protest. She wanted to say that it was probably the son of a friend, a nephew, that Jimmy was mistaken. But, no sound, no words came out. She struggled to breathe, to sit up, disoriented and boneless as she tried to imagine what was going on here. Troubling, devastating thoughts swarmed her like bees on sweet meat but she remained quiet.
“So how about you, do you want kids someday?” Jimmy stared at her curiously, unaware of how what he said affected her.
“I can’t have children.”
“I’m sorry.” Jimmy looked uncomfortable.
She didn’t want him to feel bad and forcing a brightness she was far from feeling she lied between clenched teeth. “Hokum and horsefeathers, it’s okay, really. I’d much rather hear about Johnny’s office. The last I saw what passed for his office was a disaster but that was awhile ago. You say the upstairs is looking quite fancy now?”
“I’ve never seen it myself, the upstairs is off limits to me, but Turk says it’s high hat.”
Hannah was hard put to hide the anguish she was feeling. She was loathe to involve Jimmy in what might not only be one lie, but many from the one m
an she’d trusted over and over. His not telling her about the club seemed a minor glitch, but not mentioning his “fancy” office? And, if what Jimmy was saying about Johnny having a son were true it could only mean one thing. That he’d been lying to her from the beginning. Pain ringed her. If that were true, it was more a betrayal than a lie. She prayed Jimmy was mistaken. If not, everything she believed about Johnny, everything she trusted was wrong. She vowed to get to the bottom of it and soon.
“Lordy, it’s snowin’ again,” Josie said, returning from the bathroom. Her eyes flickered between them. “We better git now.”
Johnny planned to be away for three more days. Hannah figured she had time to discover the truth without involving anyone else. “You’re right. Don’t worry, I’ll clean up lunch.” Rushing to pay Josie, she pasted a smile on her face. “Thanks you two, be careful out there.” She hugged them both, trying not to look as distracted as she was as they donned their winter clothes. “Jim, you may as well not come back later or tomorrow until this weather clears up.”
“Turk doesn’t need me at the warehouse ’til the snow melts and the trucks can get through.”
“Good. I’m not goin’ anywhere either so stay home, do what you need to do.” She didn’t want Jimmy involved in any way.
“You sure?” he asked looking disappointed. “I don’t mind stopping by.”
“Don’t. Stay home. Consider it a vacation.”
When the door finally closed, she let out a huge sigh of relief. She felt weary from trying to seem blasé. The weight of what she suspected was crushing. She hoped she was wrong. She didn’t want to believe Johnny was capable of such a huge deception, but no matter what the price, the pain, or the weather, tomorrow she’d find out what was really going on.
19 CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Planning your next heist, boys,” she said cheerfully, breezing into the warehouse. The fallen snow had brought the city to a standstill. Nary a car, truck, cart, or horse was in sight. Neither were the dogs or the men usually hanging around outside when Hannah approached the warehouse. Her voice formed a breathy cloud of vapor. “No need to look guilty on my account, fellas.”
She took off her scarf and her hat and shook her hair loose. She acted like she had every right to be there as she walked towards five very startled men. It was obvious they’d been killing time around a table littered with cards, dice, food wrappers and cups. The warehouse was drafty despite heat from a large coal furnace, empty compared to when she’d last visited. Recognizing Turk, she smiled. She noted with relief that Charlie wasn’t there to blow her story. “Phew, it’s cold out there.”
“Can I help ya, Miss Gallo…Glidden?,” Turk stood as the other men gaped appreciatively.
“Oh no, please don’t get up.” She knew how to play to an audience of appreciative males and did as she unbelted her coat. She waved the keys she’d found in Johnny’s drawer, showing the large bag she held with a wink. “Just a little surprise for Johnny. You stay right there, do what you’re doin’, I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Rain battered the windows, the roof and the hard pavement below. It rattled, tapping and banging as it washed away mounds of snow. But no matter how many layers of clothes she wore, no matter how much she drank, Hannah couldn’t get warm.
The apartment was tidy for a change. All her expensive knick-knacks sparkled like jewels on their glass shelves. Her gaze bounced around the burgundy, green and gold toned apartment to gilt edged tables, Italian sconces and genuine oil paintings. A fifteenth century castle tapestry covered one wall. Everything she’d ever wanted, yearned for, fine, expensive things that gave her pleasure and made her feel successful were here, yet tonight, all they made her feel was burdened.
Perched at the door of her open cage, Free flapped her wings. Hannah smiled, but felt no joy. Both of them were living in cages of a sort. Yesterday, she’d believed her life a dream come true, but what she discovered yesterday had devastated her. He’d lied about little things, big things, important things, everything.
Her eyes slipped down to the framed pictures on the coffee table; Meg, Rosie, her. Rosie and Mike, Coney Island, Johnny, hat tilted rakishly, his face in shadow. Her center stage at The Renegade, taking her bows, her smile genuine, her joy apparent. She’d been looking into the audience, at Johnny, her generous, devoted lover. Ha! More like one manipulating, lying, son-of-a-bitch.
She still couldn’t catch her breath. Shivering, she wondered what would be worse, freezing to death slowly, or drowning quickly. At first she’d cried, then she’d wanted to flee, but since returning from the warehouse late yesterday she’d remained isolated. Her chest felt tight, her mind numb, confusion, anger and pain had her spinning like a top.
Sitting on the velvety emerald sofa, she slipped off her shoes. She glanced at the damning evidence on the table. It was proof of the betrayal that made her heart feel like stone. As the key turned in the lock, she stiffened. She reminded herself to be strong, to watch her temper. He wouldn’t play fair. And, the nightmare was just beginning.
“Han?” The door opened slowly and Johnny entered.
The radiator was rattling, cooking on overtime, the drapes parted wide. He could see Hannah seated in the shadows. Her eyes were red rimmed, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. Johnny stared, bewildered. Instead of jumping up to greet him, she stayed seated, staring like he was a stranger. Immediately suspicious, his eyes perused the room. On the table in front of her he saw a half empty whiskey bottle, an ashtray full of butts, cigarettes, a lighter and scattered papers. A familiar envelope full of letters and pictures. His temper flared. “What the hell is going on here?”
“You tell me,” she sighed.
“How the hell did my personal papers get here?” He shook off his coat, unbuckled his shoulder holster.
She closed her eyes for a moment, opened them again. “I paid a little visit to your office.”
“Why?”
“To bring you something and imagine my surprise. Here I thought you spent nights sleeping amongst storage boxes stuffed tight on some miserable little cot.”
Taking off his hat, he set it down. His face was calm as he ran his hands through his hair, checked himself in the mirror. “Jesus Christ, Hannah, I never said—”
“No, you never did…about a lot of things apparently,” she interrupted. Her gaze on him was steady, icy and condemning.
“You had no right to look through my things.”
She fought for calm, succeeded and pointed a shaky finger at the papers. “The club, the fancy digs, I could live with those lies, omissions you’d probably call them, but this, how could you have kept this from me, how, Johnny?”
He moved like lightening. He snatched her off the sofa so fast she didn’t have time to protest. He put his arms around her, forcing her to lean into him, to look up at him.
“Christ, Hannah, it ain’t what you’re thinking. I was doing what I thought was best.”
“Best?” She pushed away, not wanting to be touched. “I signed papers, I trusted you, told you I wanted him to have a family. You told me he’d been adopted,” she sobbed, angry at herself for breaking down.
He grunted, his dark eyes glittering. “The papers you signed gave me guardianship, but he was such a frail, sickly little thing. The family that was gonna take him changed their minds, took another kid instead. By the time he was healthy again, everyone got attached to him. Even my own sister, though she didn’t come right out and accuse me, thought I was the father. It was her that suggested I wait. She said Presbyterians were adoptin’ kids outta Catholic orphanages then usin’ them like servants. That maybe I should adopt the kid myself, that he could go to a private boarding school and stay there, with the nuns.” He said he’d planned on putting him up for adoption again if the right family came along. “But between Gabrielle glarin’ holes into me to do the right thing and knowing the boy was a part of you I didn’t. Hell, maybe I wished he was mine, or maybe he got to me, so small and helpless, tim
e flew by and it didn’t feel right to give him away to some stranger. The sisters adored him and he’s happy where he is.”
“So, you just decided all this without any thought to what I wanted.”
He got defensive. “Hey, you weren’t in any condition to…you gave the kid up. Why should it matter to you who has him as long as he’s healthy, cared for and happy?”
“It matters.” She was hurt, crushed he’d throw that back at her. “I wanted him to have a real family, not live in some institution or have a part-time proxy. That was important to me. I thought you cared about what was important to me.”
He raised his voice. “He has a whole damned school he considers family. That place he’s in costs me a fuckin’ fortune. It’s top of the line—the ritz.”
Eyes stormy, she turned her back to him.
“I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”
“What? You lied and mislead me and denied my son a real family, all the while keeping him for your own selfish reasons. I can’t—won’t forget that. You’re not the man I thought you were.”
“Family, family, what’s a real friggin’ family anyways?” Cursing, he loosened his tie, kicked the sofa and walked to her. With his eyes slits of steel, he reached out to feel her hair, running his hand up and down her back in an attempt to soothe her. “Turn around, look at me. Stop splitting hairs, what’s done is done. It’s okay, the kid’s fine. I missed you and I’m tired.”
“You’re scarin’ the bird,” said Hannah, tears stinging her eyes, turning her face away. She ignored his attempts to make nice and moved past him. How he could be so cavalier after pulling such a heinous stunt was beyond her. Kneeling she tried nudging the agitated bird back inside its cage. She didn’t see the look on his face, but could imagine the muscle in his perfect jaw clenching.
The Songbird with Sapphire Eyes Page 23
