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Sugar House (9780991192519)

Page 25

by Scheffler, Jean


  "It'll have to be another time, Ziggie. My aunt can be a real mean woman if you make her angry. Then she'll tell my mother I got Marya home late, and I'll have her down my throat. I just don't need the heat. I only got a couple of days off, and I don't want the hassle of dealing with a bunch of irate women. There's plenty of pretty women here—whadda ya say?"

  "What if I say no, Joe?" Ziggie pulled the front of his jacket back to reveal a .38 in the waist of his pants. Joe looked down at the weapon, smiled at Ziggie, and did the same. "All right, all right… no need to get so serious. Take your pretty little cousin home, Joe. I'll see you around." Ziggie stumbled off. Joe grabbed Marya and pulled her out of the ballroom.

  "You're gonna get in a heap of trouble if you're not careful, Marya" was all he said as they walked to the waiting cab. Marya sat silently in the cab on the way home, while Frank and Pauline debated which rides were the best. Marya looked slightly remorseful as Joe helped her up the stairs to her house. Frank and Pauline went inside, and Joe told Marya to wait on the porch. He walked around to the back of the house to the old water pump and poured water on his handkerchief. He returned to Marya and wiped the dark charcoal off her eyes as she sat at the top of the steps.

  "Thanks, Joe. Thanks for helping me out with that guy. Who is he, anyway?"

  "Nobody you want to be talking to, Marya. Why don't you knock off all this going out and get a job to help out your parents? I can probably set you up with a nice salesgirl job at one of the department stores."

  "I said thanks, Joe, not hey, Joe, I'd like to be a stiff and stay home every night. You have some nerve acting all morally superior… last time I looked I didn't see you wearing a priest collar. You run liquor into this city every day, and you're mad because I go out and have a little fun! How dare you, you pompous ass!"

  "It's two different things, Marya. I'm trying to make a living. You're just out for a good time. And I'm a man; women need to behave differently."

  "You're younger than me and you sound like you were born fifty years ago, Joe. Times are different now, haven't you heard? Women can vote and work and smoke and drink in bars… it's the 1920s not the 1820s. Lord, you sound like my parents. And don't think I'm so tipsy I didn't see you flash your gat at that gangster. Why don't you just lay off and mind your own business?" She pulled herself up from the stoop.

  "Didn't think you'd listen, you crabby goat. Do me a favor. Next time you decide to go off and get liquored up, don't bring Pauline along."

  Marya slammed the door behind her as she went in.

  "Women!" Joe muttered under his breath, as he went into his house.

  Chapter Thirty One

  The following morning, Joe woke to a driving rain and a dark gray sky. He pulled on an overcoat and headed to the Sugar House to meet with Charlie after breakfast. Charlie was sitting in his office as usual when Joe opened the door.

  "Come on in, Joe. I've got some good news. Seems that bastard Cammarato isn't only a thief but an idiot too. He believed your story about the new customs agents and tried to unload your cargo in St. Clair. But he had to wait a couple of days till somebody could get there with a truck. Abe and Ray found him just sitting there on the boat with those two stupid goons. So Abe decided to sit on them and watch the loot while Ray headed back to let me know the scoop. So I tell Ray to grab Ziggie and make their way over to Cammarato's house to keep an eye out. That fat sister was hanging clothes on the line in the back when they got there, so Ziggie decided he'd go have a chat with her. Meanwhile, Ray goes in the house and busts the place up good. Ziggie don't touch the fat broad, but he scared her real good, and all the while she can hear all her china being thrown against the wall. They leave for a few hours and go to the speakeasy down the street and have a few drinks. Later, when it gets dark, Ray throws a little bottle bomb through the front window just to make sure we get our point across. Next morning I get here and the dago bastards are driving your load into our garage. Mighty considerate of them, doncha think?" Charlie reached out and clapped Joe hard on the shoulder and laughed.

  "They mention anything to you about a twenty-five percent tax, Charlie?" Joe asked, relieved that his story had been corroborated and happy the cargo had been returned.

  "Nope. No mention of any taxes, and they've decided to run their operations north of the city from now on, so you and Cappie shouldn't have any more problems with garlic eaters from here on out. They sure must love that fat sister of theirs." Charlie slapped his knee and laughed again. "How about I take you out tonight to my place for a few drinks before you and Cappie head back to Wyandotte?"

  "Sounds great, Charlie. I'll meet you there at nine. I've just got one more thing to take care of before we take off again." He shook Charlie's large hand and headed out the door. The air was still cool, but rain fell in buckets. So Joe grabbed a cab to the Ford plant instead of taking the streetcar.

  It was lunchtime by the time he reached the plant. Droves of men were heading out of the gates to find a quick drink and a bite to eat. He asked a few of the workers who passed by if they knew of his Uncle Feliks. One man told him that he usually ate at the blind pig on the corner across the street.

  Joe knocked on the back door of the building. All the windows were boarded over, and the tavern appeared abandoned except for the sound of laughter and conversation that could be heard through the thin siding. Joe knocked three times on the back door, and an oval flap in the door slid open revealing one brown eye and a very thick eyebrow. Joe said, "sturgeon," the password. He heard the slide of a lock from the other side, and the door swung open. Joe walked into the dark crowded barroom. Smoke clouded his field of view, and he squinted as he searched for his uncle. He found him sitting at a back table eating his free lunch of kielbasa with a side of pickles and chips. An empty mug of beer sat in front of him, so Joe ordered two Stroh's at the bar and carried them over to the table.

  "Thirsty, Uncle Feliks?" he asked, setting the glasses down.

  "Hey, Joe! Thanks. What are you doing over here? You trying to get hired on at the plant? I could speak to a guy for you… you're a little young, but we could tell them you're older." Uncle Feliks took a long drink of beer and wiped his lips. "What are you—fourteen?"

  "Almost sixteen. But I didn't come for a job, Uncle Feliks. I wanted to proposition you with an opportunity." Joe took a sip of beer and set it back down. His uncle looked at him, curious.

  "Yeah? You got something on the side, Joe?"

  "Nah, I don't pull any side jobs. I'm happy just working for the Sugar House… don't want no extra trouble. I was thinking about something else entirely. I heard you've had some bad luck lately, and I thought it might be a good time for you to head out of the city for a while." Joe reached across the table and grabbed a potato chip.

  "Oh that. Don't worry about your old Uncle Feliks, Joe. Just had a bad run is all. I've got a line on a sure thing and I'll make it all back tonight."

  "No one's gonna take your bet, Uncle Feliks. You owe money all over town, and the only reason you don't have two broken legs right now is because you owe most of it to the Sugar House. Besides the angry husbands that are looking to cut off your balls…"

  His uncle winced. "What do you know about that? That's nothing for a boy to be worrying about, Joe." Uncle Feliks blushed slightly in the dark room and reached for a cigarette in his coat.

  "It is when there's a price on your head. This city is smaller than you think, Uncle Feliks, and I don't need you going and getting bumped off for a measly two thousand dollars. I don't think Uncle Alexy could take it after losing…" Joe couldn't say my father. "Anyway, I've got some dough saved up, and I thought you might like to take a trip till the heat dies down. My mother misses her sister, and I'd like to find her for her. I'll buy your passage to Poland; you go back to your hometown and look for her and bring her back. I'll settle your bets. In a couple of months, everyone will have forgotten about you sleeping in occupied beds, and you can come back. Whaddaya say?"

  "I don't know
, Joe… I never really wanted to go back to Poland." He drained the last of his beer. Joe signaled to the barman to bring over two more beers, though he still had half of his first one. "I'll need to think on it for a couple days."

  "No time to think. I gotta head back to work in the morning, and I have to buy your train and boat tickets today. Not sure when I'll get back to the city, and you've reached the end of the line with the Sugar House. I mean it, Uncle Feliks, I met with Mr. Leiter this morning, and he said you've run up too big of a tab to be ignored anymore." Joe finished his first beer and set the empty glass down.

  Two of the Sugar House enforcers picked that moment to walk into the saloon and sit down at the bar. One looked over at his uncle with an unfriendly grin, tipped his hat, and waved. Joe looked back at the two toughs and signaled to the barkeep to give them a beer on him. They drank down their beers, tipped their hats again at Feliks, and went out the back door. Uncle Feliks looked a little shaken. Joe ordered him a third beer.

  "You can pick up the tickets at my house after your shift, OK?" Joe patted his uncle on the arm. "It'll be a nice trip, and think how happy your brother's widow will be when you bring back her sister. You'll be the hero of the family, and I won't let on about our little agreement?" Uncle Feliks drained the remainder of his last beer and looked at Joe.

  "You got my brother's spunk, you know that Joe? Your ma ever tell you he tried to get me to go and fight in the Great War with him?" Joe shook his head no. "'Come on, Feliks—fight for your new country,' he said. But I wouldn't go. Damn coward, I guess… shoulda been me that died instead of him."

  "Now you can redeem yourself, Uncle. Wait till you see the party they'll throw for you when you bring back Aunt Anna! I'll see you after your shift." Joe grabbed his hat from the table and walked back out onto the street. The rain had abated, but a soft drizzle still fell. The people on the street scurried to avoid getting wet. Joe grabbed a streetcar at the corner and took it to the railroad station.

  He exited the streetcar at the entrance of Roosevelt Park, the elegant processional park that led to the entrance of Michigan Central Station. Eighteen massive stories towered over the circular drive, and Joe could hear several trains pulling in and out from behind the grand station. He hurried down the tree-lined boulevard, wishing he'd stopped to buy an umbrella when the streetcar passed through the downtown shopping district. The rain had grown heavier, and he pulled up the collar of his suit coat as he walked up the steps to the station.

  Joe walked through a large hall, past several boutiques, a thriving barber shop, and a restaurant, toward the ticket office.

  A line of five people deep stood in front of the ticket booth, and he took his place at the back. The line moved quickly. Joe purchased one ticket for New York to depart the following morning. He then found the concierge and purchased passage to Europe for his uncle via telegram.

  Tickets safely in his front pocket, he walked to the café for a quick cup of coffee. From here he could observe the crowds passing and enjoy the beautiful architecture.. The large copper skylight in the vaulted ceiling provided minimal natural light on such a gray, rainy day, but the station was awash in bright electric light. Pairs of massive columns flanked the hall like soldiers in dress uniform, providing security and an air of regality. Departing passengers carrying suitcases and trunks hurried past him toward the concourse.

  Blurred colors of women's dresses reflected in the marble walls, reminding Joe of the young women who had spun around the ballroom at Electric Park. The memory of his drunken cousin cussing him out on their front porch flashed in his head. Marya was really too pretty to be flaunting her body and drinking with strange men. The number of rapes and kidnappings had kept pace with the city's increase in population and illegal drinking establishments; Joe was worried something bad was going to happen to Marya if she didn't change her behavior.

  Joe paid for his coffee and grabbed his hat from the chair next to him. As he placed it on his head, he saw a commotion near the long tunnel that led to the train platforms. A group of people at the entrance were vying to get closer and asking for autographs. Curious, Joe walked toward them. He climbed on the pedestal of one of the columns to see over the crowd. A tall man wearing a straw hat stood next to a very small woman in a cloche. He couldn't see their faces, but he realized who the woman was when he heard a gentleman in the crowd call her name.

  "Ms. Bow! Please, over here. Can I get an autograph?" A young man was jumping up and down and shouting, trying to get the tiny woman's attention. Just then, Joe caught sight of the woman's pretty face and recalled her image from the cover of the Photoplay magazine that fronted the newsstands. There stood Clara Bow right before his eyes! The most famous movie actress of all time… the "It" girl, the woman who personified the twenties, female sexuality, frivolous fun, drinking, and the flapper. She appeared slightly disheveled and nervous in the growing crowd; her enormous brown eyes looked around anxiously for a way out. She glanced up at Joe's perch and smiled slightly. It appeared to Joe as a plea for help.

  Joe jumped down and entered the mob with the confidence of a police chief at a murder investigation. He pushed the young man who was still shouting at the movie star to the side and reached Ms. Bow and her companion. He turned toward the crowd, took off his bowler hat and waved it over his head to get the attention of the throng of admirers.

  "Attention! Ms. Bow has had a long trip and needs to freshen up. If you will kindly gather in the waiting room she will be happy to oblige all autograph requests in a few minutes. Please allow her a few minutes to gather her wits together." Joe crossed his fingers, hoping the crowd would acquiesce. He grabbed the beautiful star's hand and pulled her toward the ladies' powder room; her companion followed. The crowd hurriedly moved toward the waiting room, and as Joe reached the entrance to the ladies' room he turned to the actress and said, "Run!"

  The three ran toward the front entrance of the train station and down the steps to a waiting cab. Joe pulled the back door open and gently pushed Clara Bow into the back seat. The tall man with her ran to the other side and jumped in. The rain had finally stopped, and the sun was trying to peek through the gray clouds.

  "Jump in, brother!" Clara yelled. Joe opened the front door to the cab and pulled himself in as the cab took off down the drive. He almost fell out as the driver made a quick turn onto the avenue, but he managed to shut the passenger door. The mob had seen the trio making a run for it and had chased after them, but they made it safely away.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  "Hot socks—that was terrific!" Clara praised Joe from the back seat in her strong Brooklyn accent. "What's your name, brother?"

  "Joey O. Sorry I pulled you so hard, Miss Bow. I hope I didn't hurt you, but that crowd was getting a little wild. I was worried you might get trampled." Joe told the cabbie to drive toward downtown. "Where you headed, Miss Bow?"

  "Where we staying at, Gary? Some sorta library, I think."

  Suddenly, Joe realized who Bow's companion was. Sitting in the backseat was Gary Cooper, the western movie hero; six foot four, sandy blond hair, handsome, with the body of an Olympic athlete, America's leading man.

  "The Book-Cadillac Hotel," Cooper responded, almost so quietly that Joe had a hard time hearing him. For despite all his horsemanship ability, outward virility, and fame, the actor was extremely shy. Joe directed the cabbie to take them to the new hotel. The Book-Cadillac had opened only two years before, and it was the largest hotel structure in the world.

  "What brings you to town, Miss Bow?" Joe asked.

  "Please call me Clara, Joey O. 'Miss Bow' makes me feel like a old maid. Gee whiz, that was awful smart of ya—fooling all those people. Wasn't it Gary?"

  Bow leaned into her companion and Cooper put his arm around her. Joe watched as she reached up to embrace her costar. Her short dress moved, revealing her upper thigh. She didn't seem to notice and didn't reach down to cover herself. Joe could barely move his eyes away from her porcelain skin. Joe was star st
ruck.

  "Sure was. Thanks, Joey," Cooper said. "I hate all these crowds. They make me feel like a nun in a nightclub. The studio should send security for Clara. One day she'll get mobbed, and they'll kill her out of love. Man, I hate these press junkets."

  "Oh sugar, don't be so dramatic." Bow responded. "We's fine as wine." Clara gave him a kiss on the cheek, leaving a dark red lip print, and turned her attention back to Joe. "We're here to open our new movie tonight at the Fox Theatre. Why dontcha come and see it? I'll leave a ticket for ya at will call." Bow reached into her handbag and pulled out a flask. "Sure could use a drinky-poo after all that hullabaloo." She took a quick drink and offered it to Gary Cooper, who took a swig and then handed it to Joe. Joe took a sip and spit it out on the floor of the cab.

  "That's some awful rotgut, Miss—I mean Clara. You shouldn't be drinking that cheap imitation. Why don't we make a quick stop before I drop you at the hotel and get you some real stuff?" Joe felt more at ease now… bootleg liquor was his life.

  "Why sure, Joey. That's awful nice of him, isn't it Gary?" Bow pulled off her hat, shook her bright red hair, and fluffed it out with her hands. "Didn't know folks were so hospitable in Detroit, did we, sugar?" Cooper only smiled and nodded and looked out the window of the cab at the busy city. Joe gave the cabbie the address of the Sugar House and turned back to look at the beautiful woman-child in the back seat. Bow moved and fidgeted, constantly in a state of motion. Her tiny hands dotted the air as she spoke, and her wide eyes looked about the cab and out the windows, never stopping to rest long on any item or person.

  "I saw you both in Wings earlier this year. You were both terrific. Actually saw it twice." Joe was referring to the aerial war movie that had played to sold out houses all over the country.

  "Isn't that sweet of ya? That's where sugar and I met, right, Gary? Them was some hot nights filming in Texas, wasn't they?" Bow pulled on Cooper's collar, unbuttoning his top button. He blushed and pulled away slightly.

 

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