“Four weeks.”
Sam stole a glance at the flappers watching them. They were cute, and probably one of them might jump to date him. So why was he entering into a devil’s bargain with Evie? Why did the prospect of a fake romance with her give him the same thrill as thievery?
“Done,” Sam said. He stared up at her with big peepers and a lupine grin. “We’ll have to make the chumps believe it. Moonlight strolls. Staring into each other’s eyes. Sharing the same straw in our egg cream. Dreadful pet names.”
“Not Lamb Chop,” Evie protested. “That’s hideous.”
“You got it, Pork Chop.”
“I will murder you in your sleep.”
Sam grinned. “Does that mean you’re sleeping beside me?”
“Not on your life, Lloyd.” Evie smirked. “The act’s only good when the cameras are flashing.”
“Well, then, guess I’d better make this look good now.” Sam kissed the back of Evie’s hand. The table of flappers let out a collective, swooning Ohhhh. The kiss tingled up Evie’s arm and gave her insides a soft buzz. Stop that, she thought. She’d have to discuss this with her insides later and let them know the score.
The waiter appeared at their table once more. “The meal is on the house, Miss O’Neill, Mr. Lloyd. Thank you for dining with us at the Algonquin today. We do hope you’ll come again.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “I could get used to this.” He snugged his fisherman’s cap down onto his head.
“Mr. Phillips has arranged an interview for us at WGI today. Four o’clock. We’re telling the story of our love. Don’t be late.”
“Nifty. I’ll steal something swell to wear. Whaddaya think—pantaloons?”
He was toying with her. This was the trouble with trusting a fella like Sam Lloyd.
“Sam. Don’t make me kill you on a full stomach. I might get a cramp.”
Sam smirked. “Nice doing business with you, too, Baby Vamp.”
Evie batted her lashes. “Go now before I change my mind.”
“Leave separately and disappoint our audience?” Sam nodded toward the other patrons slyly watching from their tables. That wolfish grin was back. But the thread of pure glee was new. Sam slipped his arm through Evie’s, parading her through the gaping patrons of the Algonquin. He leaned in to whisper in Evie’s ear, and her stomach gave another rebellious flip.
“From now on, Sheba, you won’t be able to shake me.”
Theta and Henry raced down the crowded sidewalk of Forty-second Street, late, as usual, for rehearsal. They squeezed past a preacher and his small flock of parishioners holding a prayer vigil. “This sleeping sickness is God’s judgment! Repent!” the preacher thundered, a Bible held high in one hand. “Turn away from loose morals; from those dens of iniquity, the speakeasy; from the Devil’s music, jazz; and from the untold evils of the bootlegger’s liquor!”
“Gee, if I do that, I won’t have any hobbies left,” Henry quipped.
“If we don’t hurry, we’re not gonna have any jobs left,” Theta said.
A corner newsboy waved a newspaper at Theta. “Paper, Miss?”
“Sorry, kid.”
He shrugged and shouted out the day’s headlines. “Extra! Sleeping Sickness Spreads, Docs Fear New Plague! Anarchist Bombers Take Out Factory! The Sweetheart Seer Engaged! Extra!”
“What?” Theta stopped short. “Kid, here,” she said, tossing over a nickel and practically snatching the Daily News from him. “I’ll be a monkey’s uncle.”
“Is this some sort of joke?” Henry asked, reading the front page over Theta’s shoulder. “Why wouldn’t Evie tell us about this?”
“I don’t know what game Evil’s playing now, but you can bet I’ll find out,” Theta said, shoving the crumpled paper into her pocketbook. “If she’s marrying Sam Lloyd, I’ll eat my hat.”
“Gee, that’s too bad,” Henry said, opening the theater door. “It’s an awfully nice hat.”
The sharp report of tap shoes competed with the melodic rise and fall of chorines singing scales, announcing that rehearsal was already under way at the New Amsterdam. Wally, the show’s long-suffering stage manager, glowered at Henry and Theta as they sauntered down the aisle together, arm in arm. “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Tardy Twins. Congratulations. You’re only”—he made a point of checking his watch—“ten minutes late today.”