Speak Low (Speak Easy 2)

“What are you doing here?” I blurted. I couldn’t help it. He hadn’t contacted me in days and I’d been so worried, assuming the worst, and here he was at Enzo’s club with Rosie’s round little ass on his lap. What the hell was going on?

“I was invited.” He raised his dark eyebrows. “It’s nice to see you too.”

“Invited by whom? Rosie?” I looked at her, and she smiled at me like a cat looming over the fishbowl, then blew smoke in my direction.

“No, not that it’s any of your business,” he answered.

My ears were burning hot, and furious energy vibrated throughout my body. But before I could think of what to say, a waitress came over to take drink orders. I requested Canadian Club, straight, and wondered if I’d survive the five minutes it would take to arrive.

“Have a seat, gang,” said Rosie, sweet as pie now that she saw my jealous reaction. “Joey and I were just about to dance. You can save our table.”

Blustering on the inside, I watched them slide out from the booth and felt like tripping her as she glided by me with a smug look on her face. “Don’t look so put out, kiddo,” she said over her shoulder. “Your man’s around here somewhere, and he looks mighty fine tonight.”

I glanced at Joey to gauge his reaction to that, but he kept his eyes on the dance floor and his expression blank. If it bothered him to hear her call Enzo my man, he didn’t show it.

Evelyn and Ted decided to dance too, which left Walter and I alone in the dark booth to wait for our cocktails. He tried to make conversation with me, but I couldn’t tear my eyes off Rosie and Joey. The band had eased from a hot-tempoed jazz number into a lazy, suggestive blues, and Rosie was draped on Joey like a jungle monkey. My whisky arrived, and I took two huge swallows.

By the time they were done dancing, my whisky was gone, my head buzzed, and my tongue itched to let loose on Joey Lupo. Exactly why I was so angry I couldn’t articulate, but somehow it seemed my right to be mad. Rosie led him back to the table by the hand, and they slid in across from Walter and me.

“Joey, can I speak to you in private for a moment?” I attempted to look calm and sweet.

“Oh, don’t be a spoilsport, Tiny,” Rosie piped up. “We just sat down. Let the boy have his fun, why don’t you?” She rubbed his arm and smiled at me with the devil in her eyes.

I wanted to kick her under the table, but I kept my eyes on him. “It’s important. Please?”

“All right.” When Rosie’s face fell, he patted her hand. “I’ll be right back.”

She pouted. “You better. I won’t wait around too long, you know.”

Detaching himself from her grasp, he stood. “Need another drink?” He gestured toward my empty glass.

“Good idea.” I slid out and made for the bar, and Joey followed. When I reached the crowd, lined three deep waiting for the bartenders’ attention, I turned on him.

“What the hell, Joey? I hear nothing from you or Enzo all week and then you show up at his club? And with that….that”—I waved a hand in Rosie’s direction—“tarantula on your arm?”

“She’s more like a peacock, actually.”

“Whatever. The point is, what are you doing here and why are you with her?”

Joey looked amused. “You know, your jealousy might actually be kind of endearing if it didn’t make your face turn all red like that.”

My mouth dropped open but I snapped it shut immediately. “I am not jealous of that two-bit man-eater.”

“Oh. My mistake, I guess. Now what do you want to drink?”

“Whisky.” I probably shouldn’t have ordered a second glass so quickly, but rational thought had been supplanted by confusion and irritation and—yes, fist-clenching jealousy. I could admit it to myself, although I’d be damned before I’d let Joey see it. While he paid for the drinks, I took a few deep breaths, rubbed my lips together to make sure my lipstick was still on, and adjusted my posture to read cool instead of hot.

“Here you go, Little Tomato.” Joey handed me a glass of amber liquid and clinked it with his own. “Salute.”

I took a small sip. “So if it wasn’t Rosie who invited you here tonight, who was it? And why didn’t you call me?”

“What is this, the Inquisition? For your information, I was invited here by the cake eater himself, and he told me to come alone.”

“What? Why?” I nearly choked on my whisky. In my mind there was only one reason why Enzo would invite Joey here alone. How could Joey be so dumb as to actually show up by himself? Wouldn’t he see the trap?

“He said he had some information for me.”

“About what?”