Speak Low (Speak Easy 2)

“It’ll mean more money coming in.”

“It’ll mean more going out too. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.”

His ruddy face flushed. “That’s my concern, not yours.”

“Bullshit!” I slammed my hand on the table.

“You watch your tongue, Missy. I’m still your father, and this is still my house. Weren’t you the one who told me to agree to their terms this afternoon, no matter what?”

“Well, yes—but I meant in terms of the bootlegging business. I wanted you to agree to whatever percentage Angel asked for in order to buy the protection you need to keep operating. That’s what he wanted in the first place. If you’d been so agreeable then, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“I’m getting out of the whisky business.”

Now I was thoroughly confused. “What? I thought the whole reason—”

“Things are different now. Smalltime bootleggers are done. The mob will eventually control all booze coming in and going out, and I’d have to pay up to somebody anyway. Plus, if I stick to the auto repair business, there’s less risk of being caught. And Angel only takes ten percent of the garage.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What’s he take from the House once you start the poker games?”

“Seventy-five percent.”

“Seventy-five. And that’s agreeable to you, getting only twenty-five percent?”

“Those places make a fortune, Tiny! Twenty-five percent could be a lot of dough.”

Anger spiked my bloodstream. “I see. And what about the girls?”

“What about them? This is good for everybody.”

“Not for me. I’m leaving.”

“What?”

My voice rose, matching the flare of my temper. “You heard me, Daddy. I can’t keep living here and putting off my life any longer. I worked for six months to make enough money to go back to school this fall, and it was gone in a heartbeat last week.”

“I’m sorry about that, Tiny. I never should have ignored Angel’s letters. That was my fault, and I’ll pay you back. You can have money for school.”

I shook my head and spoke through clenched teeth. “That’s not enough. I want to leave home and be out on my own. Save your money, because you might need to hire some help.”

Daddy got to his feet. “You’re not moving away from home, Frances O’Mara, and that’s final. Your family needs you here.” He planted a crooked index finger on the table.

“They need a cook and a housekeeper and a seamstress!” I shouted, jumping to my feet as well. “They need a mother, and I’m not her!”

“No, you aren’t!” he yelled back. “Your mother never would have let her family down this way. But when she died, everything changed, and we all have to make sacrifices.”

I gaped at him. Was this the same man who told me earlier how proud my mother would have been of my bravery and selflessness this week? “Sacrifices? I sacrificed five years of my life for this family! Ever since Bridget married Vince, I’ve been running this house and mothering my sisters, and I’m tired of it. Molly is fifteen now—just as old as I was when Bridget left!”

His face went nearly purple. “Your sister left to get married because she’d gotten herself in trouble! I know you’re smarter than that.” In his eyes I saw all the fury he’d unleashed when Bridget had announced she was pregnant at nineteen. But I wouldn’t be cowed.

“I’m going, and you can’t stop me.”

Daddy closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. If I hadn’t just risked my life coming up with the ransom money to free him, he might have slapped me. He didn’t often get violent, but since I had a loose tongue and a fiery temper like his, I’d probably been slapped more times than my three sisters combined.

Tonight he managed to keep control. But his knuckles turned white as he pressed his fists on the table. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“And how will you support yourself, missy?”