“I… thank you for saving my life,” Evie said quietly. Her face was hot and her head buzzed. She was too afraid to face Sam, so she stood beside him, and side by side, they stared out at the twinkling city. “I’m so sorry about what I said to Woody. I promise I thought I was helping you, Sam.”
Sam let out a long sigh. “I know. Who knows? Maybe that rat can find something useful after all. I suppose that soldier fella was right out of his mind. Shell shock.”
“I suppose so,” Evie said. “The funny thing is, I know that soldier. At least, I’ve met him before.”
Sam turned his face sharply toward Evie. “What? When?”
“My first week in New York. And then again after my radio show the other night. I tried to put money in his cup and he grabbed my wrist—”
“Doll, you shoulda told me.”
“It was nothing—”
“That’s not nothing. Especially now.”
Evie turned and leaned her elbows against the roof’s stone ledge, lifting her eyes to the night sky. Smoke and steam from unseen sources blew past in great billowing hiccups. Vague impressions of stars hid in New York’s perpetual neon haze.
“What happened after he grabbed your wrist?” Sam asked.
“He said, ‘I hear them screaming. Follow the eye.’”
“Follow the eye…” Sam said, thinking. “You think he meant that eye symbol we saw on my mother’s file?”
“Why would he know anything about that?”
“I don’t know. But it seems like a pretty big coincidence him saying that, then coming after you with a gun.”
A door opened somewhere inside the hotel and the sounds of the party drifted up from below: a woman’s braying laughter; the high, fast tempo of the orchestra. The door closed again, leaving only the ever-present hum of the sleepless city.
“You and Jericho…” Sam started, then he shook his head. “Nah. Forget it.”
He’d been about to ask if she still carried a torch for Jericho, Evie knew, and she was glad he’d stopped himself. She still had feelings for Jericho. But she had feelings for Sam as well. It was confusing and, yes—if she was perfectly honest—more than a little exciting to have two handsome fellas interested in her. But she wasn’t sure she wanted the responsibility of loving anyone right now. The truth was, she was afraid that when she fell hard for a boy, she’d lose herself along the way. She’d seen it happen to lots of girls. They’d go from drinking gin, driving fast cars, and boldly shimmying in speakeasies to these passive creatures who couldn’t make a move without asking their beaus if it would be okay. Evie had no intention of fading behind any man. She didn’t want to slide into ordinary and wake up to find that she’d become a housewife in Ohio with a bitter face and an embalmed spirit. Besides, things you loved deeply could be lost in a second, and then there was no filling the hole left inside you. So she lived in the moment, as if her life were one long party that never had to stop as long as she kept the good times going.
But right now, in this moment, she felt a strong connection to Sam, as if they were the only two people in the world. She wanted to hold on to both him and the beautiful moment and not let go.
“Sam,” Evie said.
He turned his face to her. His mouth—why had she never noticed how perfect his mouth was? Impulsively, she kissed him once on those perfect lips and stood back, waiting. His expression was unreadable, and Evie’s stomach fluttered.
He shook his head. “Evie. Don’t.”
Evie’s cheeks went hot. For months, he’d been toying with her. And now that she’d put herself out there, he wasn’t interested. “Why not? Because girls shouldn’t kiss first?” She didn’t mean for it to sound so angry, but she was hurt and embarrassed. “Am I supposed to look up at you through fluttering lashes, all phony innocence, and wait for you to feel moved? I burned that rule book a while ago, Sam.”
“I don’t care about that,” Sam said. “Just… please don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it.”
All of Evie’s old fears bubbled up. She wanted to kiss Sam, but she was afraid of what that meant. What was right? Why was it so hard to know? “I mean it right now,” she said.
Sam kicked at a bit of gravel on the roof’s floor. “That’s always your answer, isn’t it? Don’t think about tomorrow.”
A melancholy undertow threatened. In a minute, it would drag away any hope of momentary happiness. “Now is the only thing you can count on, Sam. It’s all we really get,” she said quietly, and felt that it was the truest thing she’d said in a long time.
For a second, the searchlights fell across their scared faces. Then the bright, restless columns moved again. They reached into the heavens and disappeared, unanswered prayers.
Evie reached for Sam. She was interrupted by the arrival of the New York Herald’s society reporter. “There you are! We’ve been looking for you two lovebirds all over. Gracious, it’s freezing up here! Come down to the ballroom. Everyone’s waiting.”
Evie still wasn’t sure if Sam wanted to keep up the charade they’d started.
“Guess we’d better go make nice,” Sam said, offering his arm, and Evie took it, grateful.