"Hi, Jimmy."
"Ma'am."
"Working hard?"
"I suppose so."
She took his hand. "Sometimes you work too hard. Come here."
And she led him onto the dance floor.
I was floored. I'd never seen Molly do anything like this, or heard of it. On their nights off, sometimes the boys in the band would look into their bottles and wonder out loud what sort of man would get hitched up with Molly Flammare. He would have to be Superman or Captain America, or else he'd have to settle for living in Molly's shadow, because more than anything else, Molly had guts—and class. Somebody wondered if Louis was Molly's man, but I'd never seen them look at each other that way.
But then, never in my wildest dreams did I think she would have an interest in Jimmy Blatta.
"Tommy," Molly said. "Play a little something for us."
It took me a moment to pick my jaw up off the floor. Then I raised my trumpet, and began to play.
It was just like my first day at Molly's, only this time, even I wasn't there. It was just the song, and Jimmy Blatta, and Molly Flammare, and it was like they were flying.
You'd think a man dancing with a woman who stood head and shoulders above him would look pretty funny, but not here, not with Molly. It might have been that Jimmy was a pretty good dancer—when the band was doing practice sessions, I'd seen him do some pretty neat moves with a mop, just for laughs—but it might have been Molly too. I wouldn't put it past her to know how to give a man his dignity. Like I said, Molly had class.
When the song was over, I put down my trumpet, only then realizing how tired I was. Molly and Jimmy came down to earth, not saying anything, just looking at each other.
Molly reached up with a gloved hand, and caressed his cheek. "Good night, Jimmy," she said. Then she walked out of the room.
Jimmy stood there for I don't know how long. I watched him. It looked like he was about to cry.
"Jimmy?" I said. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I'm . . . look, kid, no offense, just beat it, okay? I need to be alone for a while."
I said, "Okay, Jimmy," and I left the same way Molly had gone.
When I entered the hallway, I saw Molly waiting at the elevator.
All of a sudden I wondered if this was what Charlie meant when he said everyone who got close to Molly wound up dead. Was she starting on Jimmy now? Was she luring him to her web, only to . . . what?
Maybe I should have done my wondering someplace else. Because Molly turned and saw me.
"What's on your mind, Tommy?"
I stood there with my mouth open, just waiting for any flies who might want to set up shop.
"I . . . uh . . . nothing, ma'am. Good night."
"Tommy." She sat on the leather-cushioned bench behind her. "Come here."
I did. God only knows why. My feet moved like they had minds of their own, and there I was, standing in front of Molly.
"Talk to me."
But I couldn't talk. What the hell could I say?
"Ma'am . . . Look, you really got to Jimmy back there, all right? He can barely think straight. And I consider him a friend, ma'am. And I'd hate to see him . . ."
That's all that would come out. But it seemed to be enough.
"You're right to be worried," said Molly. "Some dames will do that sort of thing just so they can rip a man's heart out. Some guys will go straight through hell and not think twice about it, but get them by the heart, and they wish they were dead. But that's not why I did it, Tommy. Jimmy's come across some hard luck, and I thought he deserved a little more than he's got. He wants to be something, Tommy. More than that, he wants to be the right kind of something. And when—"
She stopped herself. I have no idea what she was going to say.
What she said instead was: "Don't worry about it. Whatever's going to happen to Jimmy, it's not going to come from me."
The elevator opened, and Molly stood up.
"Good night, Tommy."
****
Things went back to normal after that. Well, sort of. To say nothing had changed between Jimmy and Molly would be lying. When they passed each other in the club or in the hallway, she would give him a smile and a "Hi, Jimmy," and he would say, "Ma'am," in tones of hushed reverence. Once I even caught them talking in the elevator lobby. I couldn't hear what they said, but Jimmy's face told me he had something big on his mind. Then Molly reached up and caressed his face with that gloved hand of hers. I heard her say, "Later, Jimmy." Then the elevator opened, and she went up to her apartment.
But on this day in particular, Molly wasn't anywhere in the building. The foot or so of tape hanging from the ticker on her table gave us some clue as to why she'd gone.
"Why do you keep looking at those things?" Jimmy asked me. "Nobody can read them except Molly."
I shrugged. "Just curiosity."
"Hey, we haven't been to Charlie's in a while. What do you say we go and see how he's doing?"
"Sure." It was our day off, and I was itching for something to do. "I'm in the mood for a burger."
We walked, since we weren't in any hurry, and it was a nice day out. We weren't paying that much attention. If we had, we might have noticed somebody following us.
When we came in, Charlie acted like it was Christmas morning. He shook our hands, asking how we were doing and grinning to beat the band. We asked for a couple hamburgers, and he said sure, it was on him. We'd come in the dead hours before the lunchtime rush, and he had nothing better to do.
"So . . . you still working at Molly's?" We could tell it was still a touchy subject with him.
"You bet, Charlie," Jimmy answered. "Nothing's happened to us, either. Life at the diner been treating you good?"
"Can't complain," said Charlie as he plunked a couple Cokes on the counter. "Business has been pretty steady. But I hear—"
The front door jingled, and in came Johnny Icarus and his two goons. Behind Johnny stood a kid. It was the same kid who cornered me in that alley when I first met Molly.
Johnny pointed at me. "This the kid, Joey?"
"Yes sir, Mr. Icarus. That's him."
"Young sir," said Johnny as his gut swiveled to face me. "I will thank you to come with us."
"What do you want with him?" said Jimmy.
"I believe he works at a certain establishment," said Johnny, "called Molly's. I wish to ask him a few questions about the proprietor."
"Then ask them here," said Jimmy, "or ask me. The kid doesn't know anything that I don't."
"Look, gentlemen," said Johnny as he spread his hands, "I'm willing to make it worth the boy's while. I'll give him anything he wants, chocolate bars, baseball cards, I'll even pay for his hamburger—"
"Kid? You want to go with him?"
"No."
"Then he ain't going!" said Charlie as he raised his shotgun.
Poor Charlie didn't stand a chance. He should have known they wouldn't turn tail and run at the sight of a lousy shotgun; he should have just started blasting. But he hesitated, and that gave one of Johnny's boys enough time to take out a gun and shoot Charlie between the eyes.
Jimmy took his Coke bottle by the neck and smashed it on the edge of the counter. Then he jumped at the guy who'd shot Charlie and drove the sharp edges into his throat.
That left the other guy. He had a gun too, and he shot Jimmy in the back.
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut. I ran to Jimmy and shook him, calling his name over and over, crying my eyes out. Then I felt Johnny Icarus's hand on my shoulder.
"As I stated earlier," he said, "I wish to ask you a few questions regarding your employer."
****
They stuffed me in a car, and kept my head down. The goon Jimmy killed must have been the one who usually drove, because this guy damn near flipped us over a couple times. When we stopped, we were in some sort of warehouse. They took me to a little office in the corner, and sat me on a chair across from some guy reading a newspaper. When he put it down
, I found myself looking at a priest.
"Father Jacques," said Johnny Icarus. "Here is young Mr. Gabriel, as promised."
Father Jacques mopped his forehead with a handkerchief. "I'll get to work on him right away," he said.
Now, I've heard of mob lawyers, mob accountants, even mob doctors. But a mob priest?
Johnny left, and the priest started asking me questions. What books does Miss Flammare read? What sort of furnishings does she have in her apartment? Have you ever seen a pentagram, either in her building, or on her person? I asked him some of my own questions, like what the hell was a pentagram? He stared at me a moment, then he got up, knocked on the door and asked for a pencil and paper. When he got them, he sat at the desk and drew a five-pointed star with a circle around it. He was real nervous about it, too.
"That's a pentagram," he said. "Have you seen it?"
I shook my head. "No."
He tore up the drawing, and crossed himself.
Then, there was a knock on the door. Mopping his forehead, Father Jacques got up and answered it. I saw Joey reading a newspaper before the priest shut the door behind him.
Seeing that newspaper gave me an idea. Father Jacques had left his paper on the desk. I grabbed the paper and started looking through it.
There was a full-page ad on page three:
You're finally catching on, kid.
Still got that box of matches I gave you?
MOLLY'S
SUPPER CLUB
27th and Lyndale
open till 2 AM
And don't touch anything metal.
A roll of thunder outside drove her point across real good.
I still had the box of matches in my pocket. But before I could figure out what to do, the door handle jiggled. I put the paper back, and sat down.
"Just give me five more minutes with him, Mr. Icarus," said Father Jacques as he came in.
Johnny closed the door without a word.
Father Jacques looked at me. I swear to God his eyeballs were sweating.
"Is there anything you can tell me?" he whispered. "Do you have any idea how she does what she does?"
I spread my hands. "Far as I can tell, she just . . . does it."
"Can you even tell me how she might be found?"
Thunder rumbled again. I jerked my thumb at it. "Sounds to me like she's coming for you."
He looked up like he was expecting lightning to come through the roof.
"Does she . . . treat you well?"
"If you're good to her, she's good to you. I wouldn't want to be the guy who killed Jimmy right now."
He settled down a little, thinking.
Then he asked: "Would holy water work against her?"
Something about the way he said it made me answer: "About as good as anything else."
He nodded, opened the door, and went through. "Mr. Icarus?"
He told Johnny that he had to get some holy water back at the church. Johnny said he would take Father Jacques there himself. I heard them leave in the car.
That left me with Joey and the goon who killed Jimmy.
Well, obviously I was supposed to start a fire. But with what? There was a wastebasket by the desk, but I didn't think that would be big enough. Then I saw the filing cabinet. Oh yeah, there were lots of papers in there. I struck a match and set a fire in all the drawers.
When the papers were good and burning, I called for help. When he heard me, the goon started swearing. He had to know I was up to something, but Johnny wanted me alive. So he opened the door.
"I'm gonna wring your little neck, kid!" he bellowed. And I got more than a little nervous. I knew Molly would save me, but I began wondering how. And when.
The goon took one step towards me. Then he stopped.
He looked at me like he was trying to remember something. Then he fell flat on his face.
A switchblade stuck out of his back. I looked up, and saw Joey.
I wondered what made him help me. Then I remembered.
"You were reading the newspaper."
Joey nodded, very slowly, like he was afraid he would fall apart.
"I'm . . . I'm very sorry for what happened to Jimmy and . . . and Charlie."
I didn't know what Molly said to him. Maybe I didn't want to know. I ran through the office door and out of the warehouse.
It was raining. I was just in time to see lightning strike not fifty feet away from me, and when I opened my eyes again, all four tires had been blown out on Johnny Icarus's car. It swerved in the mud, turning around a couple times and almost flipping over before it finally stopped. And there, about fifty feet beyond that, stood Molly, right in the middle of the road, like the wind, and the rain, and the lightning weren't even there.
Johnny climbed out of the car, dragging Father Jacques by his starched collar. He held the priest in front of him with one hand while the other held a Tommy gun.
"You crossed the line, Johnny." Even with all the wind and thunder, I could hear every word Molly said. "You shouldn't've done that to Jimmy and Charlie."
Johnny peeked over Father Jacques's shoulder. "You wouldn't hurt a man of the cloth, would you?"
Molly reached out with one hand.
"If I had to."
Father Jacques screamed as the lightning struck, and I flinched away again. But when I looked back, there lay Father Jacques face down in the mud, still screaming, still blubbering, still alive. A flaming pile of flesh was all that remained of Johnny Icarus.
Father Jacques pulled himself up to his knees. He folded his hands and prayed. He blubbered and shook so much he might have been saying "Now I lay me down to sleep" for all I knew. But he stayed there on his knees, still praying, until Molly walked up to him, and he looked at her.
"Get out of here," Molly said. "I don't ever want to see your face in this town again."
He didn't need to be told twice. He got up and ran, never looking back. Last time I saw him, just before he disappeared into the rain, he was still running.
Then I heard somebody else's footsteps. I turned and saw Joey running for it from the warehouse.
"Not you, Joey!" Molly shouted. "Come here!"
He stopped dead in his tracks. I thought he looked terrified before.
"I said come here, Joey!"
Slowly, staring straight at the ground, he turned and shuffled through the mud toward Molly.
Just then it dawned on me that I felt sorry for him. That was probably why I called out to him, "Joey."
He stopped and looked at me.
"If she wanted you dead, you would be."
And I walked with him to where Molly stood.
She knelt down and grabbed his arm.
"You've been hanging out with the wrong crowd, Joey. But that's going to change because you'll be working for me from now on. Meet me at the club at seven tomorrow morning, and I'll set you up with a job. And if you're not there at seven, I'll come looking for you. You got me?"
"Y-yes, m-ma'am."
"Look at me, Joey."
He didn't.
"Look at me!"
Then he did.
"Don't worry about it," Molly said. "Keep your nose clean, and you'll be fine." She stood up. "Now get out of here."
As Joey ran off, the whole thing came flooding back to me, first Charlie's death, then Jimmy's. I started crying again.
"I'm sorry, Molly. Guess we should've checked with you before going to Charlie's."
Molly shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Tommy. Even I can't be everywhere at once."
Then we heard a car engine, and we saw a pair of headlights followed by a beautiful silver-grey car with Louis in the driver's seat. Molly opened the door, leaned in, and said, "Take us to the hospital, Louis."
The hospital?
"You mean . . . Jimmy's still alive?"
Molly just said, "Get in, Tommy."
****
As Louis drove, Molly told me what happened: after Johnny left the diner, Jimmy dragged himself on his
stomach, smearing blood all over the place, to the curb, where he managed to hail a cab. The cabbie wanted to take him straight to the hospital, but Jimmy said no, take him to Molly's. So that's what the cabbie did. When they got there, Molly was still gone, but Louis was there, and he knew how to get a hold of her. But he sent Jimmy to the hospital first.
When we arrived, Molly knew exactly where to go. A doctor stood waiting for us outside a hospital room.
"How is he, Danny?" Molly asked.
"He's lost a lot of blood, Molly. He won't last the night." He looked through the door. "'Course, he wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway."
"What do you mean?" I said. "What's he talking about, Molly?"
Molly only said, "Tell him, Danny."
Danny looked at me. "You know Mr. Blatta was in the Army, right?"
"Yeah. He said he was medically discharged."
"That's right. But he probably didn't tell you that he was diagnosed with terminal cancer. They said he had about six months to live. So they sent him back home from Europe." Danny shrugged. "He never even saw combat."
Molly looked over to where Jimmy lay. "Can we talk to him?"
"Sure."
Jimmy looked even worse than I expected. I had no problem believing he wouldn't live to see the morning. But when he opened his eyes and tried to smile, he mostly succeeded.
"Tommy," he whispered. "You're okay. That's good."
"Yeah, Jimmy," I said. "I'm okay. And Johnny's gone now. Molly took care of him."
He looked at her.
"Molly . . ."
She shook her head. "Oh, Jimmy. You didn't have to prove anything. Not to me."
"Not to you, maybe. But there's some things a man's got to prove to himself, you know?"
Molly didn't say anything. It looked like she couldn't say anything.
"Molly . . . whenever I asked you . . . that question . . . you always said, 'later.'" He closed his eyes, and opened them again. "Can 'later' be now?"
Molly stood stock still. It was like time itself had stopped.
Then she said, "Sure, Jimmy. You can have it now."
And she took off her gloves.
This really spooked me, because I had never seen her do that before. She had smooth, milky-white hands that looked like they belonged on a statue. And she leaned over Jimmy Blatta, she placed her milky white hands on either side of his face, she lowered her lips to his, and they shared a long, slow kiss.
Jim Baen's Universe Volume 1 Number 3 October 2006 Page 25
