As the Liquor Flows

by Angela Christina Archer

  He nodded then strode out of the door without shutting it behind him.

  His answer calmed the brewing storm in my chest. At least one comforting, familiar face would be in a house full of strangers tonight.

  “Miss Ford?” Mr. Phelps waved his hand in front of my face to gain my attention.

  “Ye . . . yes?”

  “Do you wish for me to send the ladies up now?”

  “Oh, yes . . . please.”

  “Do you need anything else before I leave you to them?”

  So many questions sat on the tip of my tongue. However, he couldn’t give me any of the answers I needed nor would he understand why I needed them.

  “No, Mr. Phelps. Thank you.”

  He nodded, but wavered before leaving with an odd twinkle in his eye. “Miss Ford, I wanted to let you know that should you ever require assistance for any particular reason, please know that you can always come to me.”

  My eyes wide, my confusion piqued.

  “I am aware of your . . . situation and of the circumstances regarding your, well, your residence here, however temporary or long it shall be. And while I’m Mr. Giovanni’s butler, you must know that I’m most loyal to Mr. Catalano.” He gave me a wink. “And, now, to you as well.”

  “All right, well, thank you.”

  “You may call me Arthur if you wish, and you have my complete devotion, should you ever need it.”

  With the last of his words, he glided through the door and closed it behind him with a soft click.

  Perhaps he would understand.

  Utterly confusing, even an hour later, Arthur’s words still hummed in my mind as I stood in front of the large mirror. Bathed clean and with make-up painted on my face, I moved my head from side to side to watch the diamonds in the hairpins shimmer in my reflection.

  With one side framing my face, the hairdresser pinned the other side up behind my ear in another elegant hairstyle I’d seen in magazines countless times before.

  As I leaned forward to check my teeth for lipstick, Sophia exhaled a deep sigh.

  “I said, don’t move.”

  “Sorry.”

  Her hands worked quickly as she buttoned the back of the dress and tugged on the material in a few places. The red satin sparkled in the light of the lamps and reflected off the glass of the window, casting ruby shadows upon the white wallpapered walls.

  “I thought you did not like this color.” Her French accent rolled across the letter ‘r’.

  “I don’t.” My tone was crisp. “However, I believe Mr. Giovanni is rather inclined to it.”

  “Ah, oui, but of course, he is, no?” She stepped away from me and straightened the sleeves of her blouse as she circled me. “I shall have my assistant pick up zee dress in zee morning. Please take exceptional care of it and do not forget to hang it up properly once you are finished wearing it. Do not let it touch zee floor.”

  “You’re picking it up?”

  “Oui. Once women see Mr. Giovanni’s, well, whatever you are to him, wearing zee dress, I can sell it in my shop for three times what it is worth. And since you will never wear it again for appearance purposes, I might as well make some money off zee deal, no?”

  “Oh.”

  “So there better not be a single tear or stitch out of place.” She glowered at me over the thin rim of her glasses that rested delicately on the bridge of her nose. Her voice growled slightly as she spoke.

  “I’ll take good care of it. I promise.”

  She cast an insincere smile before she smoothed the dress around my hips one last time and backed away from the mirror.

  “Remember, not a stitch.” She waved her finger at me a few times before scooping her purse from the bedside table. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor and her once swaying hips flicked stiffly from side to side as she left the room and shut the door behind her.

  I gazed upon the reflection in the mirror. For the second time in my life, a stranger stared back at me dressed in a dress she would never wear with hair styled in a fashion not of her choice.

  Voices continued to echo from downstairs through the walls of the room. Guests had begun to arrive. Men, no doubt, clad in tuxedos and women dressed in glamorous gowns—a world of top hats and diamonds if their attire compared my own.

  Minutes ticked by as dread traced across my skin with an itch that I couldn’t scratch. I paced in front of the bed and the train of my dress glided along the floor in a swoosh sound as the material trailed along behind me.

  My fingers fidgeted with one another. Any moment, I’d have to walk down the staircase into a room full of people I didn’t know, nor cared to know while on the arm of a man I didn’t trust.

  Heat rose through my chest. How would he introduce me? As an acquaintance? A simple guest? Or as the one thing that made my stomach clench into tight knots, his girlfriend?

  Did he expect me to hold his hand, to laugh and talk to him as though we spend our time together because we desired to, and to act as though there was no place in the world I’d rather be than here?

  Another hand rapped against the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s Mr. Phelps, again.”

  My heart sunk. I’d hoped to see Max before I had to go downstairs.

  “Come in.”

  Arthur opened the door and peeked inside. “I am to inform you that Mr. Giovanni is waiting for you.”

  “Oh. Thank you. I’ll be down in a moment.”

  “I will let him know.”

  “Wait, Arthur,” I called after him. “Is Max here yet?”

  Amusement sparkled in his eyes and he winked. “He arrived several minutes ago and is downstairs. Do you need him to see him before you go downstairs?”

  “No.” My voice raised an octave. “No, I just thought I’d ask.”

  Arthur chuckled. “Well, should you need him, he is downstairs. I will let Mr. Giovanni know you will be down in a moment.”

  I nodded.

  My embarrassment stole my ability to say another word.

  He began to shut the door, but hesitated and popped his head back in through the frame.

  “If I may speak so boldly, Miss Ford, I must say that you look simply lovely tonight. I’m sure you will turn quite a few heads, including someone in particular.”

  With the last of his words, he winked again and left the room.

  ELEVEN

  LAUGHTER AND CHATTY banter filled the air as I stepped into the hallway.

  Deep tones from men and light tones from women, all blended along with different accents from New Jersey, New York, and Chicago.

  Melodious music played from a record player in the parlor. Trumpets and saxophones blew different tenor sounds from the jazz tunes in contrast to the voices in the room.

  Finally reaching the stairs, I gazed down upon dozens of men and women parading around the downstairs floor of the mansion.

  The women’s dresses played off the lights of the chandelier. The glittering sparkles reflected along with the rainbows from the diamonds on their necklaces, bracelets, and rings. Low cut bodice styles left their breasts barely covered by the material, and none of them seemed to care.

  As people watched me descend the stairs, heat rushed to my cheeks, blazing hot through my skin. Their curiosity in the stranger caused a few of them to hush and stare intently. I closed my eyes for a moment to calm my heartbeat with my breath.

  Just open your eyes, Evelyn.

  With an exhaled breath, I opened my eyes and my gaze instantly found Max standing in the dark corner near the parlor doors. His black tuxedo mirrored like the night sky, deepening his olive skin and darkening the strands of his dark chocolate hair.

  For a brief second, he appeared not that of a lackey or employed triggerman, but of someone else, someone who played more than the role shown to the outside world, although he desperately tried to hide it.

  He watched me descend the staircase. His eyes burned into mine and he had a draw to him that whispered into
the deep beats of my heart. His eyes followed me, staring at me as though I was the only woman in the room, the only woman he’d ever laid his eyes upon, and the only woman that mattered.

  The connection stole my breath with an intensity that stripped away any hesitation that I held onto for one reason or another, and for a brief moment, I’d hoped the kiss on my forehead earlier had been a kiss on my lips.

  What am I thinking? I can’t think of Max in such a way.

  A shriek pierced my eardrum and drew my attention as fingers wrapped around my arm and yanked me from the last stair.

  “Oh my goodness, well I do declare, Evelyn, you are simply stunning.” Ester’s arms engulfed me in a tight embrace. “I was wondering what happened to you that day. You were just like poof, gone.”

  “Good evening, Ester.”

  “So is this why ya left, huh, to come here? I knew you were interested in him, ya little liar.” She winked.

  “No, no,” I shook my head. “No, when I left, I had no intention of ever seeing Mr. Giovanni ever again. I . . . happened to run into him . . . and he invited me . . .”

  What on earth am I supposed to tell her?

  “Yeah, like I’m gonna believe that.”

  “It’s true, I swear.” I hoped my smile would convince her, and yet, collectively end the conversation at the same time as I wiggled from her grip.

  “Well, just don’t let Maggie see you. She was madder than I’d ever seen her before when she discovered you’d taken off without a word to anyone. Though, I suppose since you’re here with him, she might be more inclined to forgive and forget.”

  She inhaled a long puff on her cigarette holder and scanned the room as she blew out the smoke.

  “Oh. My, my, my, doesn’t Mr. Max Catalano look mighty fine tonight. I wish that man would show a girl a little interest. I swear I have been trying to get my hooks into him for years. He just won’t even give me the time of day. Kind of makes me wonder what on earth is wrong with him.”

  My heart fluttered and I couldn’t help but smile as I found his gaze, my calm in the chaos of the room.

  “Oh and what do we have here?” Ester’s lips puckered with a hinted seduction that blushed through in my cheeks. “Oh my, forget Max, I’d hoped that Ducky would be here tonight.”

  “Who?”

  “Ducky De Luca, his real name is Charlie. Rich beyond rich and good looking, I just get lost in his charm every time I talk to him.”

  She motioned toward a man with his eyes fixed in our direction. Puffs of cigar smoke billowed above his head and his gruffness masked any characteristic I would consider charming.

  Powerful boss-like movement flowed through his body. Like the dominant man holding me captive in this house, his dark eyes mirrored a cunning nature, one that no one would want to mess with or underestimate.

  And one I wanted to avoid.

  “I think he might have heard you.” I leaned in to whisper in her ear as he slinked through the crowd toward us.

  “Oh honey, I hope he did.” She ran her fingers through her curls. “How do I look?”

  Before I could answer, she sashayed toward him, swaying her hips as though she wanted him to feel like the only man in the room. Her breasts bounced in her dress and she giggled with a shy smile as he took the back of her hand to his lips, kissing it gently.

  “Well, hey there, darlin’, fancy seein’ you here tonight.”

  “You too, Ester. I trust you have been doing well?”

  “Why, of course I am, however, I have to say I’m certainly doing far better now.”

  She touched her bare neck with her fingers as he licked his lips and traced her svelte body with his eyes. He inhaled a long puff on his cigar and gave her a wink.

  Heat flushed my cheeks, embarrassed over this moment between two people toying with one another in some passionate dance.

  As I stepped away from them, an arm wrapped around my waist and spun me around. Vincent drew me close into his body. Between his tight embrace and sudden appearance, my inner balance wobbled and I nearly fell into him.

  “I had begun to wonder if Mr. Phelps had lied to me when he said you’d be down in a moment,” he said.

  “I’m sorry if I am late.” I leaned away from him.

  “No, not at all. I have someone I’d like for you to meet, though.” He finally released me and held out his arm for me to take. “I must say, you look stunning this evening.”

  “Thank you.”

  My eyes met his, but only for a second before they burned into the floor. Like a doll, dressed for his enjoyment, a toy for him to play with, and a dame for him to seduce. Cheapness crawled through my skin like an anxiety I couldn’t shake.

  “So are you enjoying yourself so far this evening?” he asked.

  “I suppose, I am.”

  “Good. I don’t really care for parties much; however, they are a necessity that I can’t avoid.”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “Everyone has their own grievances. Apparently, social gatherings are yours.”

  “Yes, I suppose you are right. And am I correct to guess that you have your own?”

  I caught Max’s gaze through the smoky air of the room. His eyes narrowed as he watched us. I longed to be at his side instead of Vincent’s, with my arm hooked in his as we spoke.

  “Far too many to admit,” I whispered.

  “Well, perhaps, we should seek ways to make things easier for you. No more unfortunate circumstances like Coney Island.” The insincerity in his voice mirrored his expressionless eyes as he stared at me.

  An unfortunate circumstance? I bit my lip before I said a word. Frank, you need to help Frank. You need to help Frank. You need to help Frank.

  “It’s all forgotten. Really, it is.” I faked a smile. “Didn’t you say you had someone you wished for me to meet?”

  “Ah, yes, of course.”

  His tension eased and we continued through the crowd of faces that blurred together in a never ending sea of strangers.

  Each smile dripped with disparagement, although they desperately tried to hide it. The arrogant with the arrogant, the judgmental with the judgmental they frolicked with each other in a dance of who was who and who was better.

  “Governor Emmerson, I’m glad you could make it tonight.” Vincent motioned toward a tall man standing near the front door.

  The Governor’s lips curled in an awkward smile as though he only did so out of obligation instead of desire. His long nose engulfed over half of his face and his elephant-like ears stuck out several inches.

  “Good evening, Mr. Giovanni. Thank you for extending me the invitation.”

  “Of course, of course. I trust that you are enjoying yourself this evening.”

  “Ah, yes, you know I always do.”

  The two men squared their shoulders and their chests puffed in a silent dominate attempt for attention. Ah, the games men play with one other, especially men in power who wish to rule over the other. Who would win? Who would reign supreme?

  “And who is this lovely creature?” the Governor asked.

  “Miss Evelyn Ford.”

  “Ford? Are you in any relation to Thomas and Rebecca Ford of Manhattan?”

  “Miss Ford isn’t from New York.” Vincent drew me in closer to his body.

  “Just visiting, then?”

  “Yes, she is from Chicago. We met when she was visiting for a production at the Kenwood Theater in Manhattan. She was waiting near the ticket counter when I saw her, and I just had to speak with her.” Vincent glanced at me with a seduction that crawled down my skin.

  “I never thought of you as a fan of the performing arts,” the Governor chuckled. “Although, I suppose one can’t really know the interests of another . . . or their secrets.”

  “No, certainly, one cannot. However, yes I’m a huge fan. I try to attend as many productions and plays as I can. They can be quite relaxing and a nice distraction from the stress of economy.”

  “And what did you think of the prod
uction, Miss Ford?” Governor Emmerson asked.

  “Um, it was directed well and the actor’s performances were pleasing.”

  Please don’t ask any more questions. Please, please, please.

  “You sound as though you aren’t as much of a fan as Mr. Giovanni.”

  “They aren’t my favorite, but they can entertain when someone is in the mood for them.”

  Governor Emmerson smiled. His crooked teeth were tarnished with yellow stains from his smoking habit. “I can see why you had to talk with her, Mr. Giovanni. If I didn’t have a wife waiting for me at home, I too, would have approached such a young lady.”

  “Yes, I do have rather fortunate luck.” With those words, Vincent patted the politician on his shoulder and drew me away from him. “Enjoy your evening, Governor. Tonight my home is your home.”

  “I will and thank you. It was a pleasure meeting you, Miss Ford.”

  As I glanced over my shoulder to respond, Vincent pulled me aside to a darkened corner near the staircase away from everyone else in the room.

  Candlelight flickered off his raven hair. With his body inches from mine, he traced the skin of my collar bone with his fingertips.

  I hated his touch. Hated it more than I hated being in his company.

  “Did you not like your gift?” he asked.

  “Gift?”

  “I sent Catalano upstairs to give it to you.”

  “Oh . . . yes, he did. Stupidly, I left it on my bed.” I backed away from him. The distraction I needed. The escape I longed for. If I could kiss the fated interruption as though it was a person, I would. “Please, excuse me. I shall run and fetch it now.”

  Before Vincent could protest, I fled from him, twisting my body just enough to detour him from reaching after me. I weaved in between guests and scurried up the stairs, reaching the safety of the hallway short of breath, but for the first time tonight, relieved.

  How am I going to get through this night?

  Shaking the thoughts from my head, I trotted toward the bedroom and reached for the doorknob. The door opened without my hand and Max’s body nearly slammed into my own as he exited.

  “Oh!”

  “I’m sorry, Evelyn. I didn’t mean to scare you.”