Speak Low (Speak Easy 2)

“Half hour. I already extended it to ten thirty, remember?”

“You also already agreed to give me two more dollars for helping with laundry and cooking, which I’ve been doing this week.”

That was true. I hadn’t eaten much this week, but Molly had made four suppers that looked and tasted much better than my usual underdone scrambled eggs and overdone bacon. “Three dollars, then.”

“Deal.” She grinned. “Now let’s go upstairs and look at our closets, I might even have something you could borrow for tonight—I saved some money this spring and bought a dress I never told you about.”

“Why?” I followed her up the stairs.

“Because it’s short. And satin. And Rosie told me not to show it to you because you’d never let me wear it.”

I stopped halfway up the staircase. Rosie was Evelyn’s twin sister, although they looked nothing alike and had opposite personalities. When angel-faced Rosie wasn’t breaking hearts or gossiping, she worked at J.L. Hudson’s department store. “You went shopping downtown by yourself?”

Molly looked at me over her shoulder. “For heaven’s sake, Tiny. A girl’s gotta live a little, you know? And I’m not a kid anymore.”

I blinked in surprise, and then nodded. “I’m counting on that.”

#

At nine on the dot, Ted opened the door to the back seat of his car, and I climbed in next to a young man I’d never seen before. I was about to introduce myself when Evelyn let out a wolf whistle from the front.

“Jezebel!” she cried. “Look at you in that dress, Tiny!”

Settling in, I tried to arrange the ivory satin skirt so that it covered more of my legs. “It’s Molly’s. I borrowed it.”

“Molly’s? Your father lets her wear that? It almost looks like a nightgown!” Evelyn couldn’t keep the shock from her voice.

“I doubt he’s seen her in it. He’s not around much.” Her comments in front of the men annoyed me a bit, but I could see why she was stunned. The dress did look a bit like lingerie, with thin straps over my shoulders and a low square neck. It probably didn’t show as much of Molly’s chest as it did mine since she was taller and bigger than I was, but Evelyn’s eyes were glued to the lace-trimmed bodice of the dress.

“And where did you get that?” she squeaked, pointing at the choker I wore around my neck. She looked at my hair, which I’d curled and styled, the black and silver headband Molly had lent me—also purchased on the sly—and my red lips. “Gee whiz, Tiny, you look like another person! I’d hardly recognize you as the girl I once knew.” She laughed, but I couldn’t help thinking she was right.

“It’s 1923, Evvy.” I took a cigarette from my little mesh evening bag. “And I’ve discovered I like living dangerously.”

The young man next to me quickly offered to light my smoke.

On the way downtown Evelyn introduced me to Ted’s friend Walter Lewis, my companion in the back seat. He was friendly and attractive in an Ivy League sort of way, with his natty bow tie and severely parted hair. But I hoped there was no expectation that I would be his date for the evening.

I had other plans.

My stomach flipped uncontrollably as we went down the cement steps into the hidden vestibule that served as the entrance for Club 23. Enzo and I had once shared a kiss in the dark, tight space between the outer and inner doors of the underground speakeasy. My toes curled inside my satin t-straps as I recalled the way I’d been backed up against the brick wall, one hand pinned over my head, one knee hitched up to his hip.

We were granted permission to enter, and walked down the long cement-walled hallway toward the music, our heels click-clacking on the tiles. A Dixieland beat thumped louder and louder as we approached the velvet drapes that opened onto the dark, ritzy club. As usual, the dance floor down in front, as well as all the cocktail tables and large crescent-shaped booths lining the two-tiered room, were packed with revelers. The bar along the back was mobbed as well. The room was hazy with cigarette smoke, and the entire place smelled of perfume, tobacc

o, and whisky, but underneath it all, I detected the faintest whiff of sex and sweat.

The men checked their hats at the door, and as I looked at the attractive, smiling girl who took them, I wondered again about Enzo’s offer to work at the club. Would I be happy here, night after night, working while I watched my friends come to have fun? Watching Enzo as he played host, buying drinks and kissing hands and making deals under the table? I looked around but didn’t see him anywhere.

“Hey, there’s Rosie. Come on.” Evelyn grabbed my hand and the group moved across the room, skirting tables dressed with white tablecloths and low candles. Along the way, Ted stopped a waitress to let her know we’d like cocktails at the end booth on the far wall, and I scanned the club over my shoulder again for Enzo. I was still looking back when we reached the velvet-curtained booth, but I heard Rosie’s mocking voice above the music.

“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in. Heya, kiddo, nice dress. You knock over your sister’s closet or what?”

Annoyed, I turned toward her. Despite the fact that she was only a few months older than me, she was always calling me kiddo because of my size, and she didn’t mean it affectionately. We got along all right, and she was always up for a good time, but I much preferred Evelyn’s sweet to Rosie’s tart. Nothing Rosie liked more than stirring up trouble, which was why her eyes glittered with pure mischief as she poked at me from where she sat, right on some poor sot’s lap.

I was about to bite back when I bit my tongue instead.

Because the sot was Joey.

Chapter Six