by Elle Jackson
Lorenzo
Lorenzo hated to see Evelyn leave. He watched as she walked to the front of the club. Several men followed her every move with their eyes, and it didn’t seem to matter if they had a dame on their arm already. She said goodbye to the band and Tommy, before going out into the early morning light.
When she opened the door, the gold light from outside formed an aura around her like she was a goddess. Her round, full bottom and toned calves nearly had Lorenzo on his knees. He wanted to show her what it meant to be cherished. Her voice, her presence, awoke something inside of him that he didn’t really understand. He wanted to know more about her...the pain in her eyes pierced him each time she looked at him.
What had happened to her?
She was so beautiful and talented. And Lorenzo was learning that she was also fearless. He’d seen how she’d come from the back when the commotion started. She could and should have stayed in her dressing room, where she was safe, but she hadn’t. She’d come to see what was going on, and she hadn’t cowered. She’d stood defiant in the face of all those angry, racist, ignorant men who looked like they’d just crawled out of a flophouse.
But what touched Lorenzo the most was her concern for him. She’d only asked if he was okay, but her face had said so much more. He wanted to tell her what was going on, but he didn’t want to risk her deciding to dust out.
The sun was up, which meant it was time for Lorenzo to get a few hours of sleep. His entire life was his club. He rarely left. But, since it was a twenty-four-hour club, he had to get some rest in order to be the formidable force that he was in all his business interactions.
“You drifting, boss?” Jeb said.
Lorenzo hadn’t even noticed his second-in-charge walking up to him. “Yeah, I’m going. Need a few hours of sleep before we do this all again.”
“Whatcha gon’ do ’bout the boys?”
Jeb always looked like he was ready for a fight. His brows were permanently creased and his expression was always a scowl.
“They’re not even our biggest problem. My father paid me a visit tonight.”
Jeb nodded and let out a breath that sounded like woo. Lorenzo figured Jeb had already known about his father’s visit. Jeb seemed to know everything that happened at the club.
“He wants to take care of the Klan, and I don’t think I convinced him that I can handle it myself.” Lorenzo ran his hand through his hair. The stress of the day was settling on his shoulders. He closed his eyes and popped his neck.
“If Don De Luca gets involved, he’s going to bop the whole lot of ’em.”
Lorenzo laughed humorlessly.
“Man... Okay, well, let me know the plan. Those boys had to be gowed up to come in here like that.”
Whenever Jeb said that, it sounded more like gat. It was his Tennessee twang.
Lorenzo agreed. The Klan had no idea what Lorenzo’s father was capable of; death would be a gift.
Lorenzo nodded to Jeb and turned to leave out through the back door that led to the stairs. He took one stair at a time, dragged down by exhaustion.
His apartment spanned the entire top floor of the area above his club. There was another floor with three apartments right below. He hadn’t decided what to do with the other floors. He’d considered opening a clothing store or maybe a hotel.
The seven-story building sat in the middle of Downtown, surrounded by hotels, other speakeasies, the courthouse, the bridge and the construction on the new theatre that was almost complete. Lorenzo had a view of all of it. He had floor-to-ceiling windows on every wall. It was a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view.
Lorenzo opened the door to his apartment and closed it behind him. He placed his keys on the table in the entryway and hung his suit jacket. He took off his shoes and put on the house shoes that were by his front door. He didn’t like outside dirt in his home. He thought of his home as a sanctuary of sorts, where he didn’t have to be Lorenzo the mobster’s son, or Lorenzo the club owner. He could just be.
He’d actually never invited a woman back to his apartment. He always insisted on going to her place. There was just something too intimate about having someone in his home. The only people who had been there were Jeb, Dred, Tommy and Vinny.
Lorenzo let out a breath at the thought of his cousin. He hadn’t attended the funeral, even though his mother had insisted it would be okay. He hadn’t wanted to take the focus away from Vinny. His presence at the funeral would have given his family false hope of his return to take his place as Don. He had arranged to view Vinny’s body the night before the funeral, alone.
He’d kissed Vin’s cheeks and left a single rose in the casket. Then he’d sent ten dozen roses to Vin’s mother, along with some meals that his cook had prepared. He’d also sent money to Vinny Jr.’s grandparents, to help with raising the little boy. Vinny’s fiancée Edith had come from a wealthy family, but Lorenzo still wanted to help. With the extra money, Vinny Jr. would receive the best education from a private tutor. Then he would be sent to one of the Black colleges of his choosing.
Lorenzo remembered how important it had been to Vinny for his son to grow up knowing the importance of family and sacrifice, but Lorenzo hoped that Vinny Jr. would also be able to see that there were many options for him. He could have the life he chose.
Lorenzo sat down on his green couch, thinking about how he’d got it. He’d asked a department store to design and furnish his apartment. They’d filled his home with the flashiest things. He had no doubt that they’d thought that was what all mobsters’ houses looked like. He hadn’t returned the items because he didn’t really care—and he actually liked most of what they’d chosen.
When he closed his eyes he saw Evelyn’s striking face. That doll had invaded every thought he’d had since he met her.
A voice in his head said, She’s too good for the likes of you. Lorenzo sighed.
His stomach rumbled and he got up to make something light. The sun had risen, and his apartment was lit with the warm glow. It made him think of that halo around Evelyn. He wondered if she’d gotten home safely. He shouldn’t have let her leave alone... He decided right then that wouldn’t happen again. She would have someone chauffer her to and from the club. Lorenzo would ensure her safety no matter what. She worked for him, so it was only right—even though he’d never offered such service to any of his other band members.
Lorenzo’s phone rang. He walked over to the small table and picked up the receiver.
“Boss, there’s something you should know about our new singer...”
Chapter Ten
Evelyn
Evelyn squinted into the sunlight. She’d never stayed up all night before. Her eyes burned with fatigue.
She was nervous about riding the train back to West Eden, especially being so tired, but she had no other choice. She couldn’t afford another bus ticket.
She took a deep breath. She had packed an extra set of clothes that she’d brought with her in case a drink or something had been spilled on her while she was at the club. She didn’t want to perform with a stain, so she’d come prepared. She also hadn’t known how much touching up she would want to do between sets, so she’d brought her toiletry bag.
She lugged her bags to the train on Fourth Street. While she waited, she noticed the man from earlier—the one that Lorenzo had punched—staring at her from across the crowded platform. His beady eyes were focused on her. Surely that was a coincidence?
She averted her gaze to study her surroundings. There were families with little ones, men traveling alone, and women carrying groceries, all standing huddled together in the brisk early-morning air.
The railcars were segregated and Evelyn, for the first time, took comfort in that. The KKK member from the club wouldn’t come to the Black section of the train, so he couldn’t harm her. She would go about her day as planned, getting off on the stop that the
people of West Eden had agreed upon because it was far enough away from the road to West Eden that no one would realize where they were headed.
Boarding the train with the other Black patrons, Evelyn knew that although in no way was segregation a good thing, but she had grown weary of White people like the man from the club after her parents’ deaths. The men who had murdered her mother and father had had that same anger radiating in their glares. An anger that stemmed from something as arbitrary as the color of her skin. It made no sense to Evelyn. She had been raised to believe in science, and knew that skin color wasn’t something that should have so much influence on how a person was treated.
Evelyn pushed the fear from her mind and settled into her seat across from a young woman and a little girl. She smiled at the little girl, who had the brightest brown eyes she’d seen. Her pigtails hung down low and the little girl played with one of them as she stared back at Evelyn.
Turning to the window, Evelyn stared out at the bustling city before closing her eyes...just for a moment...
* * *
Evelyn woke with a start. A gloved hand—a big gloved hand—was shaking her awake.
She sat up immediately, thinking of decorum, and rubbed her eyes. She couldn’t make out who the person was at first, and her heart threatened to throb right into her throat. She didn’t want to die—not when she’d just started living.
Her life for the past five years since the massacre in Greenwood had been a shell of the life she’d lived before. Before she’d been full of excitement and energy. Her future had been bright and nothing would have stopped her from pursuing her dreams of being a singer. Then that night of May thirty-first 1921 had happened, and she’d become a different person. The fire had burned Greenwood, and now the fire burned out of her.
Her life flashed before her eyes as she contemplated the stranger at her side.
Finally, the man leaned down. “Miss, I didn’t want you to miss your stop. I’m not sure where you’re headed, but we’re getting to the end of the railway line.”
Evelyn shook her head at her hasty assumption that he was someone wanting to harm her. She really had allowed fear to take over her thinking. She looked out of the window to see if she had indeed missed her stop, but she hadn’t.
“Thank you so much,” she said as she stood, grabbing her bags.
He’d woken her just in time. Her stop was next.
When the guard opened the door, she exited. The cold wind of midday hit her hard. The tall Black man backed up and held the door open for her. He held his hand out to help her step down out of the car.
Evelyn put her gloved hand into his, savoring the small amount of warmth coming from the bright sun’s rays. She decided that this gentleman was handsome—dashingly handsome, actually. He had a strong jawline, pleasing big, light brown eyes, brown hair cut really low, with a part on the side, and a muscular build. He was similar to Lorenzo in that they both had very symmetrical faces, but this man’s features were more rugged and Lorenzo’s were more a gentleman’s features.
The comparison shocked Evelyn. Why had she instantly thought of Lorenzo while admiring another handsome stranger?
The man nodded knowingly at Evelyn, like he was well aware of where she was headed. She smiled as they walked in separate directions.
There were several people who exited the train car at the same time as Evelyn. She started on her five-mile journey, carrying her bags down the dirt road. The crowd soon thinned out, most heading in the opposite direction from Evelyn. She found herself alone on the long stretch of road.
Suddenly, something hit her in the head. She gasped. The wind had been knocked out of her. Her bags dropped, stirring up a cloud of dirt from the road. Black crept inward from her peripheral vision.
No, she couldn’t pass out.
She shook her head. Her eyes rolled at the pain. She looked around and saw two men progress toward her. Blood ran down the side of her face, stinging her eyes. Her vision blurred and her eyes watered.
“So we meet again.”
She recognized the voice. It was Mr. Simmens. He had a bandage around his head—probably from where Lorenzo hit him, or maybe from where his head had hit the floor.
Evelyn was on her knees, frozen in the dirt.
“Get up!” Simmens yelled.
Evelyn wouldn’t move willingly. They’d have to drag her away from the main road.
She grabbed at the knife strapped to her thigh. They would surely rape her if they could get to her. She’d heard all the horror stories about Black women being brutalized; she wouldn’t be the next one—at least not without a fight.
Her head throbbed.
“Get the ax. I’m a put some White purity in this jigaboo.”
Evelyn’s eyes grew wide. The thought of his vile hands racked her body with chills.
She wasn’t ready to die.
That was the second time she thought that in a matter of hours.
She would fight, and they’d be forced to kill her. That would be an admirable death.
Chapter Eleven
Lorenzo
Lorenzo pressed on the gas. He had a bad feeling about this. When Jeb had called to tell Lorenzo he’d seen Evelyn board the train, and that Simmens had been there on the platform as well, Lorenzo had flown from his apartment.
Jeb had been waiting by Lorenzo’s roadster. They’d both jumped in without saying a word. They knew each other so well. Lorenzo’s father had business with Jeb’s father, so their friendship had been inevitable. And Jeb had a certain skill set that Lorenzo found valuable in many different circumstances.
Luckily, Jeb had seen which train Evelyn had taken, and Lorenzo’s car was one of the fastest cars made. He had no doubt they’d catch up to Evelyn. She and Simmens had only a few minutes’ lead. And it was Sunday, so most people were in church and off the roads.
“What’s that?”
Lorenzo followed Jeb’s gaze. There was a lot of dust being kicked up on the road. It was hard to see from a distance. Lorenzo pressed down on the gas pedal and the roadster revved ahead.
Lorenzo came to a stop. Gravel spewed everywhere, little pings hitting the car.
“That’s Evelyn’s coat,” Jeb said as he and Lorenzo jumped out.
The road was empty. They looked toward the field.
In the distance, they heard a woman screaming.
They looked at each other and then sprinted into the tall grass. With the sun beaming down, the men who had Evelyn were hard to make out at first. But when Lorenzo got close enough, what he saw sent a seething fire of rage burning through him.
He ran toward the two men slapping Evelyn around. One held her while the other hit her repeatedly. The man Lorenzo knew was Simmens had his pants down around his ankles, and only stopped slapping Evelyn when he heard Lorenzo and Jeb approaching.
Lorenzo tackled Simmens to the ground. They rolled, but Lorenzo ended up on top. He beat Simmens over and over, until Simmens’s face was nothing more than a blood-splattered mess.
“Lorenzo, stop. Lorenzo, please—stop!”
Evelyn’s voice sounded far away at first. Lorenzo was so enraged he couldn’t even see clearly. The sounds of rushing wind filled his ears.
A small glove-covered hand touched Lorenzo’s shoulder and he stopped hitting the unconscious man. He looked up into Evelyn’s medallion-colored eyes. She had bruises, and blood trickled down from a wound covered by her beautiful hair. Lorenzo stood up and cradled her face. She winced at his touch.
He looked at his hands, covered in blood. Simmens’s blood. Immediately he dropped his hands to his sides.
“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
Forcing himself not to touch her, even though his hands literally ached to feel the delicate softness of her skin, to make sure she was okay. His voice came out deeper than usual, thick with guilt for not preventing th
is from happening. He was both pleased and disgusted with how it had felt to beat Simmens. Rage still coursed through him.
He took in some deep breaths to calm himself. He’d never experienced anger like he’d felt when he’d saw what Simmens was doing to Evelyn.
“I’m okay. It could’ve been worse.”
“Did they...?”
“No,” Evelyn said, and she shook her head. “They were trying to, but I stabbed Simmens with my knife and that’s when they started beating me.”
A smile played at Lorenzo’s lips at the thought of Evelyn stabbing Simmens. She was a fighter—but Lorenzo already knew that.
“Let’s get you home.”
He was leading her back toward the car when he finally remembered Jeb and the other man. He turned around to see Jeb standing over the second man, who was also unconscious.
“Did you kill him?”
“Nah, figured he wasn’t worth it. Besides, they’ve got theirs coming soon enough. I slugged him, though.”
Jeb smiled and walked toward Lorenzo and Evelyn, spitting on Simmens as he passed.
Lorenzo could hear the birds chirping again. The noise in his ears had subsided. He looked down at Evelyn and guided her toward his car. The roadster was a two-seater, but Evelyn’s small frame would fit between Lorenzo and Jeb easily.
Lorenzo had a canister of water in his car and he used it to clean his hands of Simmens’s blood. He wasn’t a killer, like his father, but for the first time in his life he’d felt the kind of rage that might cause someone to commit murder. He was still trying to figure out where that rage had come from.
He was glad he hadn’t done any permanent damage to Simmens. No matter how Lorenzo felt about the lowlife, he wasn’t worth Lorenzo losing his integrity over. But when he’d seen Evelyn hurt, everything had gone black and he’d had tunnel vision.
If Evelyn hadn’t stopped him, he wasn’t sure what he might have done. Evelyn had saved Simmens’s life. She saved the life of a man who had wanted to hurt her in the worst way. And she’d saved Lorenzo too.
