A Taste of Shine

by Addison Cain

  “It’s been a long time, Tommy.” Charlie’s voice was decidedly less friendly, but she held out a hand anyway.

  Tommy took it and pressed his lips to her knuckles, earning an eye roll from the woman.

  Reaching into his coat, Beaumont pulled out a velvet ring box and handed it over. After a quick wipe of her fingers on her skirt, Charlie snatched it up.

  With a coo, she lifted the lid. “Just what every girl wants.” Snapping the ring box shut, she batted her eyelashes. “Considering how fast you got down here, I’m surprised you found the time to get me something so fine.”

  “When it comes to my girl,” Beaumont took another long pull of his cigarette, answering with a puff of smoke, “I make the time.”

  Without looking back, she knew the Emersons didn’t know what to make of this exchange—must have thought terrible things about her just from the look of esteem on her face. But that didn’t matter. For several long moments Charlie and Radcliffe shared a silent world all their own.

  The moment passed, and Charlie stood on tiptoes to press a kiss to Radcliffe’s cheek, whispering a sweet, “Be nice.”

  When it was done, Beaumont crossed towards the glowering moonshiner and his kin. Offering a handshake, the suave gangster spoke like a politician. “I hear there was a little misunderstanding the other night.”

  “You a friend of that woman?” Matthew demanded, blatantly refusing the offered hand.

  Beaumont smirked, withdrew his hand and answered in his suave Chicago twang, “More like family.”

  Charlie gave an unladylike snort, ignoring the men to retake her stool and get back to writing down recipes. After all, this might be her last chance to learn the art of chocolate icebox pie. But Beaumont wasn’t keen to leave her be. Leaning against the bar, he took the pencil straight from her fingers.

  “What the hell are you doing in this backwater town?” The gangster glanced past her and gave Matthew a self-satisfied nod. “No offense.”

  Turning to face a man she had a soft spot for, Charlie snatched back her pencil. “My car broke down, and I came to find I like it here. The people are real nice.”

  Radcliffe tucked Charlie’s hair behind her ear, ignoring the growls it earned from his hosts. “How is your mother?”

  Shaking her head, Charlie said nothing but implied much.

  “Why don’t you come back to Chicago with us? Martha would be over the moon to see you. I’m sure I know a nice young man or two who can make an honest woman out of you, if you’re ready to settle down.”

  “You don’t know any nice men,” Charlie mocked, cocking her head towards the playful wounded look Tommy was giving her from across the room.

  Those familiar fingers were back at the tips of her hair—the same fingers that had taught her how to load a gun… where to slip a knife between the ribs for the quickest kill. “Next Thursday night, dinner with the family at the Drake.”

  Setting her elbow on the bar, Charlie leaned her head into her palm and gave Beau a little smirk. “That depends. You gonna try to kill me again?”

  He shrugged. “A man makes one mistake and you won’t let him live it down.”

  The idea of seeing Martha won her over. “What time’s dinner?”

  Radcliffe grinned and she could see the wheels in his mind setting some plot into motion. “Let’s aim for seven, Blackbird.”

  She laughed. “For crying out loud, keep all that Blackbird nonsense to yourself. Call me Charlotte for Christ’s sake.”

  “Watch your mouth, girl,” he corrected, an amused gleam in Beau’s sharp eyes.

  “I learned all the choicest words from you,” Charlie teased, picking up her pencil and getting back to work.

  A fine fedora went from his fingers to a jaunty angle on his head. “Good evening, gentleman. Been a pleasure doing business with you. Take care of my Lottie now.”

  The screen closed, Charlie watching out the window as the cars drove away.

  “I’ll be damned.” Eli trotted over with her little present, opening the ring box to see just what Beaumont Radcliffe brought her. A yelped curse and the box fell, the contents—five bloody human teeth—chattering over the counter like dice. “Why the hell did Radcliffe give you that?”

  Ignoring Eli’s poke at a half crushed molar, Charlie met the steely gaze of Matthew, knowing he understood perfectly. He answered for her. “‘Cause he killed the man who touched her.”

  Eyes already back to her notes, Charlie agreed. “That would be why.”

  Though it wasn’t totally true: Beaumont killed the man who ruined what was, no doubt, an underhanded plot to seize the Emmerson stills—a man who let himself be beat up by a girl.

  Eli, still in awe of the whole affair, said, “I can’t believe you know Beaumont Radcliffe personally.”

  “You know him, what makes it any different?” Charlie mumbled, writing out the last lines of the icebox pie recipe. “Keep in mind, Eli, if you so much as whisper about this to a soul, you’ll draw a lot of negative attention my way. Do me a kindness and keep your lips sealed.”

  “‘Course, Miss Charlie.” He said it with such enthusiasm she almost believed him.

  “Eli, clean that mess off the bar.” Matthew ordered, near enough Charlie could feel his breath brush the hairs on the back of her neck.

  Taking care to put the cards away, Charlie climbed from her seat with the pages she’d copied and looked to the man. She gave a small smile, hoping he didn’t notice her blush, and tried to cover with confidence. “I suspect things are square with you and Radcliffe now. No hard feelings and all that.”

  Matthew gave a curt nod.

  Swallowing past the strange feeling in her throat, Charlie brushed past to gather her coat. “I’ll leave you boys to do whatever it is you do once it grows dark in Monroe.”

  “No one said you had to go,” Nathaniel complained, taking his customary seat at the bar. “Sit down and have a drink with us. ‘Sides, there ain’t nothing to do in town tonight, and it’s too dark for you to sit and look at things.”

  “So I should look at your sloppy ass instead?” Charlie mocked, arms tucking into green velvet.

  “Didn’t know you was lookin at my ass,” Nathaniel countered, bobbing his eyebrows.

  Coat half on, she gaped at her friend, took in his disheveled appearance, and burst out laughing. He might be a drunken fool but he sure was funny. “Nathaniel, when you get your shit together and stop drinking every waking hour, you’ll make yourself a decent man.”

  “I prefer indecent.”

  “So I’ve noticed.”

  Matthew was watching, measuring her words and movements, waiting for her to look at him while Nathaniel was telling her to stay so he could nod in agreement, but she hadn’t looked.

  It was Eli who had all her attention now. “You got my keys?”

  “Actually, Matthew fixed your car,” the boy said, the teeth dropping with a tinny clank into the waste bucket.

  At last she leveled him a look, Charlie’s nervous smile soft as she crossed the space to say goodbye. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.” She reached out, palm up to take her keys.

  Looking down at her little hand, Matthew scowled and grit his jaw. “Wasn’t no trouble.”

  “I appreciate it, Matthew, and for letting me copy down your mama’s recipes.” He pressed the keys into her hand, Charlie asking, “How much do I owe you?”

  Dragging his eyes from where their fingers touched, Matthew claimed, “Grimes’ll cover the cost of your car.”

  “I mean for lunch. Best meal I’ve had in ages.”

  “We thought you might like something fillin’.” He looked almost embarrassed when Nathaniel snorted behind him. “You don’t owe a thing.”

  Charlie gave him a warm, heart melting smile and lowered her lashes, looking to his chest as if counting the buttons of his shirt. “All right then. Goodbye.”

  * * *

  When she was out the door, Nathaniel choked on shine and laughter. “I bet you
wanna give her something fillin’.” The hilarity was ruined when his brother slapped the back of his head. “Oww, Matthew! Shit. Charlie ain’t gonna chase you like Alice did. If you want her, you’re gonna have to go get her.”

  Red-faced and seriously considering punching Nathaniel right in the goddamn mouth, Matthew snarled, “She ain’t no Alice.”

  “No, she ain’t.” Whether it was his drunkenness or his frustration after months of watching his little brother stare all doe eyed at Charlie and do nothing, Nathaniel stood from his chair, maybe leaner but several inches taller, and snarled, “Alice was spoiled, looking to be taken care of.” Gesturing round the room, spilling moonshine as his jar swept the view, he said what no one had dared. “She couldn’t handle this life and ran off to chase her big city dreams at the first sign of trouble. We ain’t never said it, but we know Charlie saved our skins that night. She didn’t flinch, not once. It’s worth lovin’ her for!” Nathaniel shoved on past, grumbling about how fucking stupid his younger brother was for pining over the wrong woman, the screen door banging behind him as he plopped down into the rocking chair on the porch to finish his jar in peace.

  Chapter 8

  “Eli,” Matthew called from his office, cantankerous after the late run and the subsequent brawl waiting for him at the end of it.

  Leaning his head in, a wide-eyed Eli asked, “Yeah?”

  “Run into town and pick up a shipment, then find Nathaniel and tell him to get his ass up to the stills. Gotta get them jars full for tomorrow night.”

  “Sure thing, cousin.”

  Eager to be out of the grill and away from the monotony of washing dishes, Eli took his time picking up jars, sugar, and other assorted ingredients required to make quality shine. As he was securing the load, Gap Mill’s local postman came lumbering over.

  “Eli Emerson, parcel come from Chicago this morning for Devil’s Hollow.”

  With thought, Eli tossed the thing in the truck so he might step into the parlor of Fontanne’s Boarding House. Smiling at the patroness, he employed his best manners. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Fontanne. I came to see if Miss Elliot was in.”

  His charming smile didn’t earn one in return.

  “That woman’s been gone for days.” The needle jabbed through her mending, Mrs. Fontanne scowling something fierce. “Just comes and goes as she pleases with no concern to tell us when or where.”

  “I’m… awful sorry to hear that. You know when she’ll be back?”

  Eyes flashed behind the glasses resting on the tip of Mrs. Fontanne’s nose. “No, Eli Emerson, I don’t know when she’ll be back—just like I told Matthew two days ago.”

  “Matthew was here?” Eli was downright amazed.

  “That’s what I said, ain’t it?” Mrs. Fontanne set aside the mending, looking the youth dead in the eye. “You tell your cousin he’s wasting his time if he’s thinking of courtin’ that woman. There’s something unnatural about her.”

  “You shouldn’t be saying harsh words about a new person in town, Mrs. Fontanne.” Eli stood tall, looking a lot more like Matthew as his brows drew tight. “Us Emersons call her friend, and I don’t suspect your husband would take too kindly to starting trouble with the family who loaned him the money to keep this place afloat.” Eli put on his hat, ignoring her indignant huff, and left with a polite, “Have a good afternoon now.”

  By the time he was back at Devil’s Hollow, Eli was worked up and muttering under his breath. Carrying the strange package through the door, he went straight to the counter, dumping the box on the polished wood before announcing to his cousin, “I think that old biddy, Mrs. Fontanne, is givin’ our Charlie a hard time. Called her unnatural…”

  There were a few local men eating lunch and sipping on jars. One or two looked up at Eli’s outburst.

  Matthew didn’t glance from his figures, yet asked gruffly, “You called on Miss Elliot?”

  “Yeah, wanted to see if she might come down for lunch... but she’s gone off somewhere.” Eli began to pull the ties of the package.

  “What’s that you got there?” Pale eyes looked to the address.

  “Package came this morning for Devil’s Hollow,” Eli answered.

  Matthew reached forward and snatched the package from his cousin. Irritated Eli would open something that was clearly intended for him, Matthew pulled off the brown paper, revealing an embellished House of Vionnet stamped atop a shiny white box. A crease formed between his brows. He lifted the lid, and found tissue paper covering something smelling of lavender. Pushing the paper aside, Matthew ran his fingertips over the mystery, never having felt satin before.

  The card read:

  -Feathers for little Blackbird

  Realizing just what was inside, he quickly snapped on the lid, grabbing the damn thing to hide in his office before anyone saw him touching a woman’s dress.

  When he got back to the bar, Eli was laughing at him. “It ain’t gonna bite you, Matthew.”

  Ignoring the boy, Matthew retook his seat.

  As he strolled by, Eli picked a piece of lint off Matthew’s shoulder, all the while teasing, “You better see to getting yourself a nice suit, cousin, if you plan on standing anywhere near her while she’s wearing something like that.”

  Slamming down his pencil, Matthew grabbed his ledger, and retreated into the office, barking a surly, “Get back to work.”

  Business grew busy and it was almost dusk before Matthew and Eli climbed into the truck to head to the stills. The entire drive Matthew was making a mental list of all the jars that should’ve been filled, preparing to lay into his brother if he found Nathaniel drunk and loafing.

  The scene he arrived to was far worse.

  Walking through the forest canopy to the secret shack where hundreds of dollars of necessary equipment brewed shine, he heard the muffled voice of his brother telling what had to be the raunchiest jokes in the hills.

  Nathaniel sat before a fire, a man facing him, the stranger’s shoulders shaking in silent laughter.

  Prowling forward, ready to tear into his brother for bringing an outsider to their stills, Matthew froze. The laughing stranger had the voice of his golden girl, Charlotte telling an equally bawdy joke that made Nathaniel slap his knee and throw his head back he was howling so hard.

  “Damn, Charlie, where the hell you pick up that one?”

  “Whorehouse outside of Nashville,” she answered unashamed while sipping the jar in her hand.

  Right behind her Matthew growled, “And just what the hell were you doin’ at a whorehouse, Charlotte?”

  Charlie choked mid-swallow and began to cough, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Jesus, Matthew, you just about gave me a heart attack!”

  “Answer the question.” His tone had fallen deeper, the brim of his hat hiding whatever malice made his voice so coarse.

  “Tracking a man named Franco Ramirez.” Unaffected, she rolled a shoulder and gave him a cocky grin. “I’ll let you in on a trade secret. If you slip the ladies two dollars, they tend to wear out your prey. Then all you gotta do is tie them up and drag them off. Everybody’s happy…” Winking at Nathaniel, Charlie clarified, “Well, Franco wasn’t happy. The Texas marshals hung him.”

  “How much you been drinkin’?” Matthew demanded, crouching down to get a closer look.

  Dressed in trousers, her hair tucked under an old hat, with dirt smeared on her face, Charlie shrugged, the blue flannel shirt gaping just enough that if he leaned forward he’d be able to see right down her…

  “Leave her alone, Matthew,” Nathaniel grumbled, cocking his head toward the corner and catching his brother’s attention. “She barely even touched the jar in her hand. Besides, while you two pansies were relaxing, Charlie helped me fill the order for tomorrow. Work’s all done.”

  Pale eyes darted across the darkening room, finding what Nathaniel claimed to be true. It didn’t soften his accusation. “And just how did she come to be here, Nathaniel?”

  Charlie came to
his defense. “I was hunting, Matthew. He heard me shoot a deer nearby.”

  “Found her walking through the woods, pleased as could be, with a doe hangin’ right cross her shoulders.” Nathaniel explained, laughing as if still struck with what an odd sight it had been. “We’ve been waiting for you two to show up so we could eat.”

  On cue, Charlie rose to her feet and went out the door to where her cleaned deer hung from a tree. Hunting knife in hand, she stabbed into the carcass, sawing down the back for the backstrap and loin, smiling when Matthew eased up behind her.

  “She’s a nice young doe, a little small. Still, should be plenty to feed us all and then some.” Stopping for a moment, she tried to explain, “I want you to know, Matthew, I had no idea your stills were hidden around here. I meant no harm, and I wasn’t snooping.”

  “Ain’t safe to hunt alone.”

  She snorted. “I don’t know any hunters around here who would feel comfortable traipsing through the woods with a woman. And I’ve seen you Emersons fire a weapon—you can’t hit the broadside of a barn. You’d scare all the deer away.”

  The way she was talking to him, the playfulness she usually reserved for his brother, it encouraged Matthew to keep his mouth shut instead of rising to the bait. After the meat was stacked up and ready, Charlie stepped to the adjacent creek, splashing her face and scrubbing clean in the frigid water.

  Hat in hand, she found him waiting just behind her, holding out his handkerchief. She took it with a grateful smile, leaning her head back to swipe the moisture running down her neck, Matthew enthralled by the show.

  Folding the cloth politely, she handed it back, tugging his arm. “Come on, Matthew. Let me feed you for once.”

  An hour later, the four of them sat around the fire, stomachs near to bursting on the venison steaks Charlie had grilled for them. Eli set to talking about his sweetheart, Ruth, ribbed constantly by Nathaniel while Matthew leaned back against some crates and smoked a cigar.