Speak Easy

by Melanie Harlow

  “Hopefully, our lookout sounded the alarm in time for people to dump their drinks onto the rugs, and the shelves behind the bar are designed to rotate so the bottles won’t show. As long as we have enough time, we should be fine, depending on who’s doing the raid—DPD or feds.” He crossed the room and scooped his keys off the floor, unlocked the door and motioned for me to hurry. “Come on.”

  I rushed to the door, where he took my hand, looked both ways and pulled me down the hall. He wore only his trousers and white shirt, buttoned halfway and not tucked in. Despite the circumstances, the glimpse of his bare chest between the undone buttons made my pulse race even faster. He opened the hidden door and we flew down the stairs and into the tunnel. After scurrying like rats down long, twisting passages, we came to the end. Enzo unlocked the door, and I followed him through it. I couldn’t see anything, but it smelled wet and musty. Our shoes made no sounds on the dirt floor.

  “Shit, I don’t have my lighter. It was in my coat pocket,” he said. “But I think the stairs are over here.” With tentative steps, he led me over to a staircase, and we went up, feeling our way with our hands along a brick wall. The door at the top opened into a garage. Thanks to pale moonlight streaming through high windows, I could see several luxury cars parked side by side, along with a black truck and a couple utilitarian Fords like mine.

  Leading me to a white Cadillac, Enzo opened the door and shoved me inside. “Get down in the back.” Then he shut me in and took off without even a kiss goodnight. I watched him disappear into the stairwell before sinking into the plush back seat. Police sirens screamed in the distance, but I barely heard them over the riotous banging of my heart. With jittery fingers, I quickly snapped up my step-in, then clamped my knees together, smoothing my dress over my legs. I put my hands over my face. They smelled like Enzo.

  My God. What have I done?

  Chapter Thirteen

  I don’t know how long I sat there in the dark, numb with shock. After a while, I began berating myself for all the mindless things I’d done—left Evelyn with a stranger, gone upstairs with Enzo, had sex with a gangster who didn’t care a whit for me beyond his erection, and who also happened to have my father locked up somewhere. To top it off, I’d abandoned my friend at an illegal club just as the police raided it, and now I sat in the back of said gangster’s Cadillac, waiting for some man I didn’t know to drive me home. I had no purse, no money, no weapon to defend myself.

  And what the hell would you defend? Your virtue? Your body? Your honor? Ha! You gave all that away earlier tonight. And for what? To escape? To gain a shred of control where you have none? To feel powerful?

  Tears filled my eyes. I didn’t feel powerful now. I felt alone, frightened, and stupid. Sniffing, I wiped my cheeks and whispered a prayer that Evelyn and Rosie had gotten out before the cops got in, and that we’d all make it home safely tonight. When the car door opened I gasped, flattening myself against the back seat.

  A man slid into the car without looking at me. “Where to?” he barked, starting the engine. He was tall and thick in the neck, and he wore a cap like Joey.

  My voice shook as I gave him my address. I’d have to wake up the girls to let me in the house because my key was in my purse on the floor of Angel’s office. God, I hope Enzo sees it there when he goes back for his clothes. I didn’t want his father to find it. The thought of Enzo returning to the scene of our tryst caused a quickening in my stomach. Don’t you dare, I commanded my body. But even my mind betrayed me by replaying the entire scene in salacious detail as the car exited the garage and drove away from the club. Outside the window, Detroit’s riverfront flashed by, but I was back in the office with my dress around my waist, head thrown back, waves of delirium crashing through me. I bit my bottom lip.

  God help me, I had felt powerful. And I wanted to feel it again.

  #

  My pounding on the front door roused the girls within minutes. The Cadillac lingered at the curb until the lights went on in the house, and I wondered if Enzo had told the driver to make sure I got in.

  “Tiny, what on earth is going on? You scared us half to death!” Molly yelled as I entered the house. Mary Grace cowered on the stairs, clutching her bear.

  “I’m sorry, girls.” I closed and locked the door. “I lost my purse, which had my keys in it.”

  Molly parked her hands on her hips. “How’d you get home? Where’s the car?”

  “It’s still downtown. I’ll have to get it tomorrow.” I started up the stairs, patting Mary Grace on the head, the other hand gripping the banister for support. “I’m all right, someone drove me home. Now go back to bed. It’s late.”

  “Damn right, it’s late!”

  I whirled to face Molly. “Mind your tongue!”

  She crossed her arms. “No! I don’t have to listen to you anymore. You’re constantly telling me to behave, do this, don’t do that, and you’re out till all hours of the night doing whatever you please!”

  “Let’s talk about this in the morning.” I flicked my eyes toward Mary Grace.

  “Fine, but I’m telling you right now, things are gonna change around here. I’m tired of being the babysitter all the time! I’m tired of dragging Mary Grace with me everywhere I go! I have my own friends and I want to spend time with them.” She gritted her teeth. “Alone! I want a later curfew, and I want a bigger allowance.”

  “I want! I want! I want!” I screamed, grateful that I was halfway up the steps and therefore taller than Molly. “I want a lot of things too, you know. I want my own apartment. I want to spend the money I earn on myself. I want the freedom to go where I want when I want, and do what I want without answering to my father or my little sisters! I want to live life now and not wait until I’m too old to enjoy it anymore!” I came down one step and leaned toward her. “But you know what? We always want what we can’t have.” Then I marched up the stairs and into my bedroom, slamming the door behind me.

  #

  No laughter or frying breakfast greeted me the following morning. Just a dull headache, a dry mouth, and a soreness between my legs. Dragging myself out of bed, I went down to the empty kitchen and called Evelyn’s house. Her mother answered and said Evelyn was already at work, but I could reach her at the bakery if I needed to. I thanked her and hung up, relieved that Evelyn had gotten home all right. If I had a normal life, I’d go see her so we could talk about what happened. But instead I had to clean up after my sisters, who’d left their dirty breakfast dishes in the sink, try to reach Joey to find out about the heist, and figure out how to get back the purse and automobile I’d left at the club.

  In the bathroom upstairs, I brushed my teeth and stared at myself in the mirror. Did I look different, now that I wasn’t a virgin? I turned my head and shoulders this way and that, but I couldn’t see that sex had altered my outward appearance. My insides—that was a different story. Every time I thought about it, my belly responded with a giant swoosh.

  I dressed in a red skirt and the embroidered blouse I’d worn yesterday, which was the cleanest one I could find. The girls are probably running short on clean clothes too. Tears threatened as I stuffed a bunch of dirty things into a laundry basket. It was too much, trying to be a parent to them while all this was going on. Guilt over the way I’d yelled at Molly sat heavily on my shoulders. This wasn’t her fault.

  After I had everything from my room that needed washing, I let myself into my sisters’ room. Picking through clothing scattered across the bed, floor, and dresser, I tried to determine what was clean and what wasn’t. As I worked, I fretted about the heist, knitting my eyebrows together. Had it gone as planned? I prayed that Joey was unharmed, but realized I wasn’t looking forward to facing him, having been with Enzo…that way.

  He’s not your boyfriend. You’ve got no reason to feel guilty where Joey is concerned. But the thought of meeting his eyes made me want to go downstairs and sneak a little whisky from the pantry.

  The door to the girls’ room swung wide.
“Get out of here,” Molly said. “This is our room.” She glared at me and I put my hands up in surrender.

  “I’m just getting the laundry.”

  “I’ll do it myself.”

  Sighing, I sank onto Mary Grace’s bed. “Can we talk a minute? I want to apologize.”

  “Well, I don’t.” She crossed her arms.

  Stay calm. You’re the adult. I took a deep breath. “Molly, I know how you feel. I remember feeling the same way when I was your age. Bridget had just gotten married, and Daddy was depending on me at home. You were only ten, Mary Grace was six, and there I was, fifteen and suddenly the mother of two, running a house of my own. I wanted the same things you want now, but it was impossible. In fact, I still want them. But we have to make do with what we’re handed in life.”

  “No, we don’t. That’s stupid.”

  I stared at her. “What?”

  “Joey says that if you want something in life, you should go after it.”

  “Joey,” I said, “is the last person you should be taking advice from right now.”

  “But he’s right,” Molly went on. “If people just waited around for life to happen instead of going after things, where would we be? Women wouldn’t even have the vote!”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but I couldn’t. Taking a deep breath, I asked, “How late?”

  “Huh?”

  “Your curfew. How late do you want to stay out?”

  “Oh.” She chewed one fingernail, considering. “How about eleven?”

  I leveled my gaze at her. “Ten.”

  “Ten thirty,” she insisted. “That’s what all my friends have. And two dollars more a week for chores. I’ll start doing the laundry, and I can help out with the cooking too.”

  I’m too young for this. Closing my eyes, I nodded. “Deal.”

  #

  Downstairs, I made a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table drumming my nails. Come on, Joey. Call already! But the telephone stayed silent all morning.

  By early afternoon, my knees were trembling as I helped Molly hang clothes on the line outside. What if the heist had gone wrong? What if Joey was hurt…or dead? Fighting the need to weep, I began forming a plan. I’ll go to Enzo and beg for mercy. I’ll make a deal with him, work for him, give him the garage and all our business if he’ll just let Daddy go.

  My thoughts were interrupted by the ring of the telephone. I raced into the house, grabbed the base and whipped the receiver to my ear. “Hello?”

  “It’s me,” Joey said. He spoke quietly, as if he didn’t want to be overheard.

  “Thank God you’re OK! Did you get it?”

  “We got it. We’re taking the load to Chicago.”

  “Chicago! But—”

  “I’m having a package delivered to you at the store. Don’t let Bridget open it, under any circumstances. And be careful.” The line went dead.

  “Joey, wait!” I pressed the switch hook repeatedly, to no avail. “Shit!” I hung up the receiver and put my fingers to my head, which had begun to pound. A package—what did that mean? Had he gotten the money for me? When was it coming and who was bringing it? I groaned in frustration, but what I really wanted to do was scream. Forcing myself to stay calm for Molly’s sake, I took a few deep breaths and walked back outside. “I have to go to the store for a while,” I said. “I’ll take Mary Grace with me to play with the boys. Can you finish the laundry on your own?”

  She took a clothespin from between her teeth and pinned up a pair of bloomers. “Sure. Do you think…maybe I could go to the movies tonight? Without Mary Grace?”

  I wanted to say yes, although I couldn’t take Mary Grace with me to get the car, either. Maybe Bridget will watch her. “All right.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled, the first genuine one she’d sent in my direction in a long time. It struck me how much she resembled Daddy, and I realized how much I missed him and his playful grins, his gruff affection, the way he pleaded to our mother in heaven when we were driving him crazy. A lump swelled in my throat, and I turned away from Molly so she wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. If I failed…

  No. Don’t even think about it.

  I collected Mary Grace from a friend’s house down the street, and we walked to the store. I chewed my thumbnail, listening with half an ear to my sister’s steady stream of chatter about her friend’s new kitten. At the store, I sent her up the stairs to Bridget’s apartment and poked my head in the front. Martin was at the register.

  “Well, hello, stranger,” he said to me. “Haven’t seen you working much this week. Come to help out?” Martin was a perfectly nice young man with kind eyes and a ready smile, but I was in no mood to chat.

  You have to stay here. So make nice.

  “Uh, sure. What can I do?”

  “How about make room on the south wall for a new Lysol display?”

  “All right. Say, Martin,” I began, as if I’d just thought of it, “has anyone brought a package here for me today?”

  “Not that I know of, and I’ve been here since nine.” He snapped his fingers. “Come to think of it, there was a woman in here looking for you yesterday. But I think she wanted some whisky.”

  “Did she leave her name?”

  “No, she wouldn’t. Said she’d try again tomorrow.”

  Nodding glumly, I headed for the south wall and began rearranging floor wax and soap flakes to make room for the Lysol display. Every time the bell over the door rang, I jumped, but it was never anyone for me. When I finished with the display, I restocked the dry goods shelves, made a pyramid of soup cans, swept the sidewalk, wiped the back counter, and washed the front windows. Anything to keep my hands busy.

  “You’re a regular dynamo today,” said Martin. “Bridget should give you a raise.”

  I smiled weakly, feeling light-headed as I wiped one last streak from the glass. What if Joey didn’t come through? What if he left me stranded, like he did the other night at the club? A sweat broke out on my forehead. I’ll go to Enzo and—

  The bell over the door rang, and a young boy entered. He looked about ten, a scruffy, undernourished thing wearing torn brown knee pants, black suspenders over a dirty white shirt, and a black cap. The kind of kid hanging around on street corners willing to run errands for a nickel. He reminded me of Joey at that age.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “Package for somebody named Tiny.”

  “That’s me.”

  He handed me a box clumsily wrapped in brown paper, and I turned it over in my hands, inspecting it. It was rectangular in shape and flatter than a shoebox. “Did Joey send you?” When the boy didn’t answer, I looked up.

  He was gone. I hadn’t even heard the bell ring again.

  “Gift from an admirer?” asked Martin from behind the register.

  “No, just something from a friend.” Heart pounding, I tucked the box under my arm and went into the stock room. Out of sight, I pulled off the dirty string and removed the rumpled brown paper. Underneath was a blue box that said Tiffany & Co. Tiffany? What the hell was this? Slowly, I lifted the top off the box. My eyes bulged.

  It was a necklace.

  Breathless, I picked it up and let it dangle from my fingers. It looks like something from a movie! Five tiny strands of pearls, held together by little diamond-encrusted bars at the sides, came together at the front in a huge, jaw-dropping brooch made up of tiny diamonds in concentric circles. My hands shook as I lifted it to my throat, feeling its weight above my collarbone.

  My chest began to pump a little life into my body. I had no idea how Joey had gotten his grubby hands on a Tiffany necklace, but I could sell it, assuming it was real. Even if it wasn’t worth five grand, which it very well could be, it would still bring me a pretty penny. I put it back into the box, did my best to rewrap it, and hid it on a high shelf. Skimming on the periphery of my excitement was the knowledge that the necklace was probably stolen, but I banished that thought from my head. I couldn’t afford to worry about it.<
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  I went upstairs and put on a phony smile for Bridget, who was peeling potatoes at the sink.

  “Bridge,” I said, twisting my hands together, “I have to run downtown and pick up the car—I lost my keys last night and had to leave it parked there. And I already promised Molly she could go to the movies. Could you watch Mary Grace?”

  Bridget nodded. “Sure. She can stay all night if she wants to. She’s had them quiet in that front room playing school for an hour now. The silence is miraculous.”

  I threw my arms around her from behind. “Thank you! I owe you a thousand favors when Daddy gets back.” She smelled good, like lavender and Ivory soap.

  She patted my arm. “I’m just glad to see you getting out a little more. You were so down last week. Are you feeling better?”

  “Yes,” I lied, letting her go.

  “You know, eventually you’re going to have to tell me about him.” She winked at me over her shoulder. “Maybe it’s not Joey, but there certainly is someone. I can smell it.”

  My heart stopped. Could she really smell Enzo on me? I sniffed my arm.

  She laughed. “I wasn’t being literal, Tiny. I meant, I can tell you have feelings for someone.”

  “Oh.” Relieved, I shook my head. “I thought you meant—never mind. I gotta go.” I could hear her laugh again as I ran down the stairs. In the stock room, I took the necklace box from the shelf and held it under my arm. Calling goodbye to Martin, I went out the back door and began walking home.

  With every step another question rattled my brain. Where could I sell the necklace? What was it worth? Should I try to sell it this afternoon? Bring the money to Angel tonight? Should I go alone to the club?

  Then I had a thought that halted my steps.

  What if Club 23 had been shut down by the police after the raid? How would I find the DiFiores to pay them? I didn’t want them seeking me out at my house or the store or anywhere near my sisters.

  Chewing my bottom lip, I turned around and walked back to Jefferson and then down two blocks. Sometimes a boy sold newspapers on the corner of Jefferson and Fielding in the afternoon, and I said a quick prayer he would be there today. If such a popular place had been shuttered, surely the paper would be full of it.