Speak Low (Speak Easy 2)

“You know, if your friends hadn’t stolen that shipment, I wouldn’t be in this position. I could probably even break it off with Gina.”

I raised an eyebrow. This was something new. Yesterday when I’d confronted him about the engagement, he hadn’t said anything about leaving Gina Meloni, whose father owned a whiskey distillery in Kentucky. “Oh?”

“But now I can’t postpone anything until I pay for the fucking whiskey I ordered. It’s in Meloni’s warehouse, but he won’t deliver it until I pay him. And his men won’t let anyone else deliver booze to the club, which is a big fucking problem, as you might imagine.”

I didn’t much care about his whisky problem. “Postpone what? I thought you were already engaged.” I tried to recall a ring on Gina’s finger, but couldn’t. The couple times I’d seen her at the club, I hadn’t known about the engagement so I hadn’t thought to look for one.

Enzo turned his head and stared out the window. “I asked her father for more time to get the cash for the whiskey, and he offered a deal.”

“What kind of deal?”

“If Gina and I get married now, he’ll forgive the debt.”

The irony that it was now Enzo forced to come up with thousands of dollars on a deadline wasn’t lost on me, but I couldn’t help obsessing over the word married, especially in light of our intimate seating arrangement. “Wait a minute…you’re actually going to marry her?”

“I’m trying to get out of it.”

My mouth fell open “Jesus Christ, Enzo!” This time when I wrestled my way off his lap, he didn’t stop me

.

“What’s the problem, Tiny? It’s not as if you didn’t know about her. We discussed the fact that you and I are a secret, remember? That’s half the fun.”

We had discussed it, sort of—actually it was less a discussion and more his telling me how things had to be. If I wanted him, those were the terms. And while the secrecy did add a certain clandestine thrill to our meetings, I wasn’t sure I wanted to be a married man’s mistress. Frowning, I looked away as he removed the spent condom.

“Listen to me,” he said. “Gina’s not important. What matters is that I can’t let Meloni see I can be bested by a bunch of fucking upstart delinquents from the Scarfone gang. He’ll make my life hell. He’ll think he can push me around. That’s why I have to go after them myself. Forget what I told you about talking to Lupo.”

At the mention of Joey, I froze. “What?”

“I need to handle this now. I can’t wait around and hope that he tells you something.”

“Can’t you just ask your father for the money?”

“I’m not a fucking child, Tiny. I can handle this myself.”

“So now what?” Pressing my knees together, I pushed my nightgown down and tucked it around my legs. My thighs were sticky.

“So now I get my money back from those assholes. I can’t let it be known that you can steal from Enzo DiFiore. I have to send a message.”

Chills swept down my arms. “How?”

He set his jaw and didn’t answer, but I knew what he was thinking. My stomach heaved, imagining it could be Joey on the receiving end of that message. “Don’t, Enzo. You don’t have to hurt anyone—let me help you.”

“You can’t help me.”

“Yes, I can.” What are you doing? a voice inside me screamed.

But I ignored it.

“The River Gang didn’t sell the opium. Joey brought it back to Detroit.” I whispered the words, as if the volume at which I betrayed Joey might lessen its reprehensibility.

Enzo fixed his eyes on me. “What? Who told you that?”

“Joey wants to talk to you. Maybe make a deal with you.” The words tumbled out quickly.

“Where is it?”

Finally I bit my tongue. “I don’t know.”