Fiona pursed her lips as if considering. “So you’re asking me to run some errands.” Eldon nodded. “This is between you and me, and Jimmy can go hang himself?”
Eldon chuckled. “Ah, I think we understand each other perfectly. Can you keep Jimmy out of these particular transactions, no matter if he becomes persistent?”
“You and me are jake, boss. I don’t owe Jimmy nothin’. Plus, I get persistent from my old man. I can take it.” He stared at her for so long Fiona thought she’d overstepped her attitude against Jimmy. Jimmy was Eldon’s business partner after all.
“Yes, I’m betting you can, Finn.” Eldon returned to his desk.
Fiona, assuming herself dismissed, shoved her hands into her trouser pockets, and headed for the door. Since she was about to do a big favor for Eldon, and he seemed a bit at odds with Jimmy, Fiona turned back to him and asked, “Um, Eldon.” He glanced up at her. “I know you don’t owe me anything, but, well, can I ask a boon here?”
Eldon frowned. “What is it, Finn?”
Fiona swallowed hard to clear the lump of fear lodged there, hoping she wasn’t about to lose all the ground she’d apparently gained with Eldon. What she really wanted to do was to loosen the tie currently strangling her with her unease. But she needed to do this, as options weren’t too plentiful on some matters. This matter was very important to her. “It’s about Thelma, sir. Miss Margaret has taken a liking to her, and the kid’s become kinda like a mission for her—and for me since Miss Margaret believes the line I gave her. I couldn’t have her mad at her own brother, could I?”
Fiona decided to lay all blame at Jimmy’s feet. Maybe that would make his decision easier. Bringing up Eldon’s own participation would be suicidal for her and Thelma. “Well, could you keep Jimmy away from her, let her stay at the house? I’ll pay for any extras she needs. Just don’t wanna see her hurt, ya know? Thelma ain’t got nobody but us, and she’s just such—” A helpless child, Fiona wanted to scream at him. You and her parents have brutally ripped innocence from her.
“Yes, I know.” Eldon walked back to the window, this time giving her his back. “I’d rather Margaret never find out the truth, where the child is concerned, or about the brothels. All right, Finn?”
“She won’t hear anything from me.” Guess it’s okay if Margaret knows about the gin joints, Fiona deduced.
“That’s good.” Eldon turned to face Fiona, his expression cold, deadly. “Neither Jimmy nor I will touch her as long as Thelma keeps her mouth shut. Otherwise, all bets are off, Finn. Understand?”
Fiona recognized the moral issues she broke, making the decision for Thelma, but she couldn’t let Eldon or Jimmy near her. Eldon could make the kid—and her—disappear in a heartbeat and painfully. At least Fiona, with Margaret’s help, could better keep Thelma safe until other options opened. “Yeah, I understand.”
“Good. See Stan on your way out,” Eldon said. “Let’s get our new arrangement started.”
Fiona bent her head in acknowledgment and left, closing the door behind her. I might as well become a pig farmer, she thought bitterly, with all the shit I keep walking through.
Chapter Eleven
FIONA’S AWKWARD GRIP on the three oblong dress boxes was slipping as she made her way to the clubs’ dressing room at the far end of the basement speakeasy under The Fisher’s Net. The club itself was referred to as Fishing Favors. Luck was with her. The door was slightly ajar, and a thrust of her hip into the door nudged it open.
“Finn,” Molly said, darting forward and removing the top box. “How are you?” Her question punctuated with a kiss to Fiona’s left cheek.
“I have new costumes,” Fiona said, hoping her blush would be mistaken for the flush of exertion.
“Ever the hero, Finn,” Dorcas said kissing Fiona’s right cheek.
Movement from the end of the row of make-up stations turned Fiona’s gaze. The club’s main headliner, Fatima, sat shaking her beautifully coiffed red-brown head. Fatima stood at six-foot, had an athletic frame, and long thin fingers and a smattering of freckles. “This is why I’m glad to be a man during the day,” Fatima said. Fatima could sing the blues like no other in amazing and sultry tones. Too many times Fiona had nearly cried, along with a captivated audience, while listening to her sing. Of course, their first meeting a couple weeks earlier had been a bit of a surprise.
Delivering the weekly boxes of costumes from the dressmaker, Fiona caught a handsome man in the process of unbuckling his trouser belt, standing at Fatima’s station.
“You should stop right there and leave,” Fiona announced in her firmest voice.
“And miss further chances in shocking you?” the man said, and then pursed his lips in a mock pout.
Shock her he did. Fiona recognized Fatima’s voice coming from the male lips. “I don’t understand.”
He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Frank Galloway, a mortician by day, and Fatima, the club singer extraordinaire by night.” He flashed a genuine smile. “Can’t be too shocked, Finn, since you know all about disguises.”
Still, it was hard not to be surprised. Fiona knew his last statement should worry her, but decided to table it for now. After all, Frank probably didn’t want his secret revealed to too many, either. “Guess what confuses me is how that amazing voice comes out of you, and how you can become so gorgeous.”
Frank laughed. “Oh, the girls are right. You are wonderfully adorable.”
Fiona and Fatima had spent many a night, since then, in relaxed conversations and teasing Dorcas and Molly about their performances every chance they found.
“So Finn,” Molly said, dropping her box on the station behind her. Fiona dropped the other two on top, stepped back, and pulled her Newsboy from her head, stuffing the cap in her pocket. “The Undertaker is having one of her to-die-for parties tonight. Come with us. It’s in a safe location,” she added in a whisper. “We can be who we are without recrimination and retaliation.”
“The Undertaker?” Fiona asked. She shivered at the image the name brought. And she again felt the jolt of fear. Others saw through her male disguise. Had she over-played her hand for too long?
“My sister Siobhan,” Fatima said, pursing blood red lips. “Her transformation makes mine look like a six-year-old playing dress-up in mommy’s closet.” She turned to Dorcas and Molly. “Be careful not to insult Finn, either. Just because she dresses as a male to survive this city doesn’t mean she’s of a like mind as you two.” Fiona thought she caught a slight tremor in Fatima’s voice. She realized they shared her fears of detection in that area. It confirmed Fiona’s disguise hadn’t fooled them.
Dorcas flushed and her expression one of horror. “We never meant to insult you with our assumptions.”
“Shit. Please don’t let our mistake make you think less of us,” Molly said, tears building in her eyes. “Are you gonna turn us in?”
Three frightened faces waited for her reply. Fiona shook her head vehemently. “No, of course not, you’re my friends. But I have to ask—”
From the hall came the loud clang of a metal bucket hitting the floor. They all turned toward the partially open door where Margaret had a fist raised to knock on the door, her gaze diverted down the hall toward the noise.
“Miss Margaret,” Fiona said, breaking the stunned silence.
Looking embarrassed, Margaret said, “I’m sorry interrupted, Finn. I can wait for you in Eldon’s office upstairs.”
“Was I supposed to take you somewhere?” Fiona asked. Had someone forgotten to let her know there was a change in her day’s duties?
“No, Finn, you’re fine. I was with Eldon today, and Jimmy called him with a problem.” She shrugged. “So he asked me to wait around. I’m sorry to interrupt. I heard your voice, and wanted to see a friendly face.”
“You’re fine.” Fiona waved her inside, even as she stepped toward her and placed a hand to her elbow, feeling the sappy grin plastered on her face. She gently kicked the door closed. “Come m
eet my friends,” she said. It had been a long time since Fiona had been able to say that about anyone besides Claire and Ian, and it felt incredible.
MARGARET STARED UNCOMFORTABLY at the four people focused on her. She assumed the dropped bucket was a cue from someone to alert them of her presence. Margaret heard part of the conversation and become curious; choosing to announce herself because she missed Fiona and wanted to spend every minute she could with her. She nearly regretted her actions because of the stares from the other three in the room. That is until Fiona looked at her with such joy written on her own face.
“You remember Dorcas and Molly,” Fiona said, pointing at each one respectively. “This,” Fiona said, stopping in front of the gorgeous woman, “is Fatima. Her singing voice will bring tears to your eyes.”
Fatima smirked at Finn before extending her hand to Margaret. “In a good way, I hope you meant.”
Fiona blushed. “You know I did.”
Margaret shook her hand, noting the telltale gentling of the grip in return. “It’s a pleasure. I’m sorry for interrupting. Please continue with whatever you were discussing.” They grew quiet as if no one dared talk first, or continue with the original topic. Margaret wanted to say it was okay, but she’d be alerting them she’d heard more than they believed.
Apparently sensing the crux of the matter, Fiona said, “She knows about me too. I trust her unquestionably.” Margaret could almost hear the tension lessen from them, like static leaving. She literally held their lives in her hands. No matter what she said, Margaret was the unknown factor who could turn on them. Fiona’s word alleviated their hesitation.
Dorcas overtly glanced from Margaret to Fiona. To no one in particular, she said, “That answers one question. Finn is like us.”
“I beg to differ,” Fatima announced, draping herself over the nearest chair. “You can’t use ’us’ as we don’t know about Miss Graham.” She pointed one finely manicured hand at her own chest. “I happen to like women.” Her face scrunched in consternation. “Okay, not the point I was going for.” It wasn’t until then Margaret recognized what Fatima admitted. With effort, Margaret hid her astonishment.
Molly gave Fatima a kindly slap on her shoulder. “Good thing we understood you. Men are safe from Fatima’s siren spell.” Her gaze targeted Fiona, and she took one of Fiona’s hands in hers. Margaret felt a stab of jealousy at their physical contact. It’s not as if Fiona belongs solely to you, Margaret chided herself. “The party starts at midnight. Come with us. We can leave from here after the show.”
Fiona shook her head. “Maybe another time, ladies, if future invitations are opened to me.”
Margaret sensed Fiona’s distress. Her posture suggested she was beaten. “What’s wrong, Finn?” she asked, keeping her male name. It made the chance for mistakes easier.
Fiona yanked her cap from her pocket and plunked it on her head, a delaying tactic Fiona used to extend her thinking time. Shaking her head, Fiona said, “What gives me away? I had it down for so long.”
Dorcas said, “Oh, Finn. Most aren’t gonna notice without really looking.”
“Which most people just don’t do,” Molly added. “For me, it was the softness of your cheek when we teased you that day delivering supplies. A teenaged boy’s skin should be getting course, as peach fuzz gives way to whiskers.”
Margaret felt Fatima’s gaze on her, studying. Her own reason for knowing Fiona’s secret was because of eavesdropping, but she didn’t believe she should share that tidbit. After what felt like an eternity beneath the Fatima mental microscope, she released Margaret. Fatima stood with sensuous fluidity. Margaret was in awe. She wished herself half as graceful. Fatima pulled Fiona into a tight hug, and the stab of jealousy reasserted itself—and she needn’t with Fatima. She realized Fatima whispered something to Fiona. After a moment they separated. Fatima patted a nonexistent lock of hair back into place.
“Well ladies, as fun as this is, I’m going to work the crowd before my first set.” Fatima walked to the door blowing air kisses. “Tah, tah, ladies.” She opened the door and shook her head. “Watch yourself, Finn, these women are dangerous.” A pause. “And inexhaustible.”
Margaret decided she truly liked Fatima. She also wondered—and worried—what Fatima shared with Fiona that couldn’t be shared with the rest of the room.
Chapter Twelve
MARGARET ENJOYED FATIMA’S performance from the back of the The Fisher’s Net restaurant. Drinks appeared to be flowing freely in the guise of tea, she assumed in the case of a raid, but even the inebriated stopped to listen to Fatima. Margaret stood quietly in the doorway leading to the office, kitchen, and dressing room. Margaret’s awe of Fatima increased after her performance. All too soon, Fatima finished her set to resounding applause as she exited the stage, replaced by scantily clad dancing girls, which included Molly and Dorcas.
As Margaret watched the dancer’s exposing silken white expanses of their legs, she couldn’t help but wonder about Fiona’s legs, imagining them bared under low lighting. Her focus on Fiona was more intense since her moments of jealousy earlier, in the dressing room. Viewing the scantily clad woman had her mind wanting to know what all of Fiona looked like under her male guise. Speculation must work like a magnet. Margaret had barely completed the thought when Fiona stopped behind her. Since learning the truth of her gender, Margaret couldn’t seem to get intimate fantasies of Fiona out of her head. The longer Fiona worked for Eldon, Margaret managed to wheedle moments, a lunch here, an errand there, to spend with her. On the rarer occasions, Margaret and Fiona managed a few discreet touches and kisses. Luck was with Margaret, and Eldon had been accommodating for the most part.
“What’a’ya thinking, I wonder,” Fiona whispered close to Margaret’s ear, “staring through the door’s crack?” Her husky tones had the power to ignite Margaret’s insides in ways she never believed possible—before Fiona.
Margaret felt a firm hand rest upon her hip, moving slowly up her waist, grazing alongside the swell of the breast before grasping the doorframe. Margaret smiled to herself. Their stolen moments appeared to have emboldened Fiona. Her own voice was a breathy whisper when she replied, “Possibilities.”
“Care to expound?” Fiona asked, her other hand gently perched on Margaret’s outside hip. The warmth of Fiona’s breath against her neck sent a shiver through Margaret. She gave a short chuckle, and ready to reply when Fiona’s body heat suddenly disappeared, accompanied by a noticeable and sharp intake of breath.
When Margaret turned around, Eldon stood over Fiona as she massaged the back of her head where it slammed into the wall, before sliding to the floor. “Watch your hands, boy,” Eldon snarled.
“Sorry, sir,” Fiona apologized, slowly getting to her feet, after retrieving her Newsboy from where it had fallen during the assault.
Eldon spun to stare at her, “And you, Babs. You wouldn’t be all flushed and flustered if you’d quit peeking at the entertainment.”
Margaret didn’t dispute his misunderstanding of what had caused her face to heat. Instead, she said, “You’re right of course. Finn said the same thing when he tried to pull me from the door—right before you attacked him.” Margaret closed the door all the way. She moved closer to Eldon, noting he did not intend to apologize for his actions. “Are we ready to go home? Should I get a taxi?”
He shook his head. “I’ve got some unplanned business that will take me a little while longer.” Eldon kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got to do it, it’s important.” Tossing his chin, and then his keys, in Fiona’s direction, he said, “Finn, take Babs home. Stay at the house until I get there. Use my car, not the truck.”
Her face turning red, Fiona stared at her feet as she shuffled from one to the other. “That’s not a good idea, Boss. What if I scratch it?”
Reaching over, Eldon grabbed Fiona’s tie and tugged until she swayed, pressed flush against him. He lowered his head until their forehead’s touched. Because she was mere inches away, Marga
ret heard his whispered threat. “You scratch my car, I slap you around. If you lose merchandise from one of my trucks, I bloody you. Let someone hurt Babs, and I kill you. We understand how my priorities work?”
“Yes, sir.”
Eldon pulled a white handkerchief from his suit pocket and handed it to Fiona. “Damn it, kid. You manage to keep your clothes clean. What is it about managing the habits of soap and water that alludes you?”
“I’ll do better, sir,” Fiona said, taking the handkerchief from him and swiping it ineffectually at her cheek.
“Good kid,” he said, gently pushing her back and tousling her hair. “Now get Babs home. Stay with her, so she’s safe. Don’t leave even if Jimmy tells you it’s all right. You go when I tell you to leave.” As Eldon walked away, Margaret heard him mumble, “Jimmy with my sister is at the top of my ’don’t trust’ list.” Margaret wondered if Eldon would finally reject Jimmy’s proposal.
OUTSIDE, THE NIGHT air was cool, and the stars shone brightly. Reaching the car, Fiona gallantly opened and closed the door for her. Margaret was glad the evening had turned out this way, and she had a few moments alone, hopefully without possible interruption, with Fiona. “How’s your head?” she asked.
“Full a’ rocks,” Fiona said. “I shouldn’t have taken liberties, so I deserved it. Think Eldon’s gonna make me pay for holes my hard head put on his wall?”
Despite herself, Margaret laughed at Fiona’s feigned expression of horror at the question. “Really, Fiona, are you all right? He tossed you pretty hard.”
Speakeasy, Speak Love Page 6
