Speak Low Page 2

  I shivered, imagining the intensity of it.

  God…I didn’t want Joey, did I?

  No, that was ridiculous. We’d known each other too long, had too much history. No one got under my skin like Joey did. He was distantly related to Bridget’s late husband, Vince, and from day one, we’d done nothing but scrap. As a boy, he’d cheated at cards, teased me mercilessly about my height, and never once let me win a footrace. For chrissakes, he’d stolen a pair of my underwear when we were fifteen and made money by offering neighborhood boys a penny a peek! Just because he grew up more handsome than he had any right to be didn’t mean he was any different—underneath that fancy new suit, he was still the no-good, pain-in-the-ass delinquent I’d always known.

  My stomach growled again, reminding me I still hadn’t eaten, and I decided to go in and forage for some supper. As I stood, a low voice traveled through the dusk. “Hey.”

  Gasping, I searched the shadows and slapped a hand to my chest. “Joey? You scared me half to death! You should know better than to sneak up on me.”

  “Sorry. I called home, and my sister said you were looking for me.”

  I lowered my arm, although my pulse still raced. It’s because he startled you, that’s all. “Actually, it’s the feds who are looking for you. They were at the garage today.”

  Joey shrugged. “They don’t have anything on me.”

  “Yes they do, Joey. They asked about the hijacking. They flashed a picture of Sam the Barber at me. Asked me if I knew him or if he was a customer of Daddy’s.” I twisted my hands together.

  “What did you say?”

  “I lied! What the hell do you think I said?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Sam’s a big boy. He can take care of himself.”

  “I’m not worried about Sam.” Our eyes met briefly before his gaze dropped to my lips, and I lowered my chin. I noticed he’d removed his suit coat and rolled the cuffs of his light blue dress shirt. His exposed hands and wrists made my stomach flutter a little—I had a thing about Joey’s hands. God, I did feel something for Joey, but I didn’t know what it was or how to put it into words. Was it gratitude? Affection? Attraction?

  My plan had been to pretend everything was the same between us. But things weren’t the same, and we both knew it.

  My eye caught Joey’s gold silk tie, which had been pulled askew. Without thinking, I reached up and straightened it. He sucked in his breath, his muscular chest straining against the shirt and vest of his three-piece suit, so different from the workmen’s clothes I was used to seeing on him.

  “Don’t.” He pushed my hands away and took over the task.

  “Christ, Joey.” My voice wavered when I spoke. “Don’t be mad at me. You don’t know what I’ve been through. You hijacked that booze and hightailed it out of town, and I had to deal with the consequences.”

  “What consequences? I left you the remainder of the ransom money. You were supposed to spring your pop from the DiFiores with it and stay the hell out of trouble. Instead you dive right into it, headfirst.”

  “That’s not how it went, dammit! And after the choices you’ve made, you have no right to judge me. If I want to dive into trouble, that’s my business, not yours.” I poked a finger into his chest.

  He lifted his chin. “You’ve made that perfectly fuckin’ clear.”

  Bringing the heels of my hands to my head, I exhaled. This was not going well. I was supposed to be smoothing things over with Joey, not making them worse. “I’m sorry. I’m extremely grateful for everything you did for me while my father was…gone.”

  “He wasn’t gone. He was kidnapped, remember? By Enzo’s father?”

  Stay calm. You’ll gain nothing by letting your temper loose. “Yes, I remember. But a lot has happened since you left, and I want a chance to explain it to you without you getting angry with me. Please.” I put my hands on his chest. Joey wasn’t too much taller than me, but he had broad, thick muscles, and I could feel the warmth of his skin through his clothes.

  He took a breath, and I thought he’d swat my hands away once more, but he didn’t. When he spoke, his voice was softer, but still had an edge. “Where’s your pop?”

  Distracted, I answered without thinking. “He’s at a meeting with Angel DiFiore, trying to work out the terms of a business arrangement.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Joey took a step back. “First the guy tries extortion, then when that doesn’t work he kidnaps your dad, beats him to a pulp, demands ten grand in ransom—and now your pop’s gonna do business with him?” He looked me up and down. “No wonder!”

  “No wonder what?”

  “No wonder you’re crazy enough to jump in bed with the guy’s son!”

  Rage burned in my face. “Fuck you, Joey! You got everything you wanted out of this, didn’t you?” I gestured toward him. “Look at you in your new blue suit driving a fancy red Buick wearing your shiny new shoes! You wouldn’t have any of it if I hadn’t helped you! How dare you judge me for getting what I want!”

  “That’s what you want? Him?” Joey yelled.

  “Yes! For once in my life, I have something that’s mine, something I’m doing just for me, and if you don’t like it, you know what you can do!”

  “Fine.” He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and rolled his shoulders. “So why did you call me today after I left?”

  “I was worried about you.” Just then my stomach growled again, loud and embarrassing.

  Joey’s brows went up when the groaning noise refused to stop. “Jesus, Tiny. If you expect to grow anytime soon, you’re gonna have to eat a meal every now and then.”

  A joke. That was a good sign. “I was too scared to eat.”

  “Have you had a decent meal since I fed you?”

  At the memory of the pasta dinner he’d cooked at my house last week, my mouth watered, and I may have moaned slightly. “I think so. I’m not sure. It’s been a tough couple of days.” I still hadn’t told him the whole story.

  Joey shook his head and grabbed my elbow, pulling me toward the driveway. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To my house. I’ll feed you supper. But this is the last time,” he warned, turning back to shake a finger in my face. “From now on, you’re his mouth to feed.”

  Nodding gratefully, I didn’t even toss back a sharp response. The thought of eating Joey’s cooking again had me salivating.

  He opened the Buick’s passenger door for me before walking around and sliding into the driver’s seat. Then he pulled two cigarettes from his pocket. “Want one?”

  I placed one between my lips and he leaned toward me to light it. When its tip glowed orange, I sucked in a lungful of smoke and exhaled. “Thanks.”

  He glanced sideways at me. “So what happened after I left town?”

  I shuddered. “What didn’t happen? Things went completely haywire. When Enzo heard the guys who hijacked the load and killed a couple of his men were driving hearses, he knew they had to be the ones he’d seen at the garage the night of Daddy’s kidnapping. And since his father had Daddy hostage the whole time, he figured I knew more than I was telling him. Which I did, of course.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I admitted that I’d sold the hearses to Sam the Barber and the River Gang because I needed the money for the ransom, but I didn’t tell him I was the one who told you guys about his rum shipment.”

  “He still in the dark about that?”

  I shook my head and took another drag on my cigarette. “I don’t think so. When he asked me outright this morning if I knew Sam was planning the heist, I told him I did what I had to do to protect my family.”

  Joey was quiet a moment, and I thought he might be reflecting on my bravery, but I was wrong. “This morning?”

  I shifted in my seat. “Yes.”

  “Did you spend the night with him?”

  Damn it, Joey, don’t make me feel guilty! I was glad it was dark, so he couldn’t se
e me blush, but I didn’t want to lie. “Look, I didn’t plan on it. There’s another part of the story you haven’t heard.”

  “I’m not sure I want to.”

  I bit my lip. How the hell was I supposed to be up front with him and ask for what I needed with all this odd tension between us? Did he really have feelings for me? Or was he just angry about what I’d done? “Well, while you were living it up in Chicago, I was—”

  “I wasn’t ‘living it up in Chicago,’ you know. It was business.”

  “Maybe, but all that rum plus the opium must have brought a good load of dough.”

  Joey studied me but said nothing.

  “Well, didn’t it?”

  “We didn’t sell the opium in Chicago.”

  My jaw dropped. “What? Why not?”

  “Sam doesn’t even know about it. It was in hidden containers that ended up in the hearse I drove with Angelo. When we found it, we agreed to keep it to ourselves. We sold the rum as instructed, gave Sam his cut, and brought the opium back to Detroit.”

  My heart hammered in my chest. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Honestly, I’m not even sure what made me do it. It just seemed like the opportunity was there for me to make a move on my own. Like I told you, I’m planning on going back to Chicago, and I could use a little money to get started down there.”

  “Jesus, Joey. If Sam finds out, he’ll kill you.” I put a hand on his arm, but when he glanced down, I removed it.

  “He won’t find out. Unless you tell him.”

  He meant it as a joke, but I couldn’t make light of this. “And what about Angelo? Can you trust him?”

  “Why shouldn’t I? He gains nothing by telling Sam about it.”

  “So where is it? The opium, I mean.”

  Joey rubbed his lower lip, as if he was wondering whether to confide in me. Then he looked me in the eye. “This information does not leave the car.”

  I nodded.

  “It’s hidden in the boathouse.”

  “Daddy’s boathouse? How the hell did you get in there?” My father had purchased a dilapidated old boathouse on the water for bootlegging purposes a few years back, and although Joey had occasionally worked for him, I didn’t think he had a key.

  “I took the key off your ring while I was at your house earlier. You were upstairs getting the money to pay me back.”

  “You stole the boathouse key from me?” Somehow that seemed worse than anything I’d done. Neither of us had behaved terribly well in the last week, but at least we’d been honest with each other.

  “I was planning on telling you. I just got…distracted.”

  Our eyes met, and I took a drag on my cigarette, fast. “Joey, I—”

  “I want to meet with Enzo.”

  “What?” I coughed, choking on the smoke. “Why the hell do you want to do that?”

  “I want to make a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “I want to know where he was going to sell the drugs and for how much. I don’t know anything about that stuff.”

  “And why would Enzo even talk to you? You just stole thousands of dollars worth of booze and drugs from him!”

  “I’ll cut him in.”

  “On his own opium?”

  “It’s not his anymore, is it?”

  “He’s not gonna see it that way.”

  Joey shrugged. “His choice. Thirty percent or nothing. I’m the one that has something he wants.”

  I brought my cigarette to my lips again, inhaling and exhaling more slowly. If they met in a dark alley, Enzo probably wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Joey, but he did want to get his money back. This information could change everything.

  “I might be able to set up a meeting,” I ventured, watching a ribbon of smoke drift out the open window.

  “You can’t tell him about the opium beforehand, understand?” Joey pinned me with a hard stare.

  “I do, but that makes it a lot harder to guarantee he’ll agree to talk to you. He’s furious, Joey.”

  “I have no doubt you’ll persuade him, now that you two are so close.”

  “Stop. Just stop it. If we’re going to work together on this, you have to quit harassing me about Enzo at every turn.”

  He switched his focus to starting the Buick, and the engine came to life. “No promises there.”

  My jaw jutted forward and I tossed my cigarette out the window. “None here either, then.”

  Joey looked over at me once more. “You know, I may have been wrong before.”

  “About what?”

  “About you. Maybe I don’t know you anymore.”

  As he backed out of the driveway and headed for Jefferson Avenue, I kept my eyes on the road. Why the hell was my throat closing up? I should have been glad he recognized that I was different now. Wasn’t that exactly what I’d been saying to myself? And I’d gotten what I wanted—information to give Enzo. If he’d agree to meet Joey without killing him on sight, maybe they could work out a deal. Thirty percent was better than nothing.

  The fist of discontent squeezing my throat eased up a little.

  I could do this. No one would get hurt. Joey would go to Chicago and stop distracting me with his mouth and his hands and his cooking, and Enzo and I would learn to trust each other.

  Of all the lies I told myself that night, the last one was the most foolish.

  And the most dangerous.

  Chapter Two

  Joey’s mom ran a restaurant and boarding house near Eastern Market, and the Lupo family lived above it. With Joey’s sisters married and out of the house, it was just him and his mother there these days. I hadn’t been to the restaurant in years, but it smelled the same when I walked in, like tomatoes and garlic and fresh bread. The dining room was bustling with a noisy supper crowd, and Joey nodded hello to a server setting down a huge plate of what looked like steak in some kind of red sauce. My stomach groaned again, and I cradled it as we took the stairs up to his family’s apartment on the third floor.

  “How’s your mother doing?” I asked.

  “Not too good.”

  “I’m sorry.” Bridget had told me his mother was ill, and I felt bad that I hadn’t inquired after her very much, but with everything going on last week it had slipped my mind.

  The apartment door was ajar, and Joey pushed it all the way open. “Ma?”

  “She’s in the bedroom.” Marie walked through the wide arch in the wall separating the front room from the dining room, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Tiny!” She rushed up to kiss both cheeks before hugging me. She looked like Joey, same dark wavy hair and generous mouth, but had little crinkles near her eyes when she smiled and a huge pregnant belly. “It’s been so long. How are you? How’s your family?”

  “Um, good.” I exchanged a quick glance with Joey. “We’re all well. And you?”

  “I’m well too, thanks.” She dropped a hand to her stomach. “Just exhausted.”

  “Go home, Marie.” Joey set his coat on the back of the sofa and took the dishtowel from her. “I can take it from here. I don’t have any plans tonight, and I promised Tiny a decent meal. As you can see, she needs one.”

  “Shush, Joey Lupo. She looks just fine.” She winked at me, and I wondered if she thought there was something between us.

  He turned to me. “Let me just go see how she’s doing and then I’ll fix us something. I haven’t eaten either.”

  “And I’ll say good-bye to Ma and be on my way.” Marie attempted to undo the apron strings at her back.

  “Here, let me.” I untied them for her and she slipped it over her head.

  “Put it on, Tiny,” said Joey, grinning as he backed through the arch. “I’ll give you a cooking lesson. God knows you need one.”

  I glared at him as Marie dropped the loop around my neck. He was right, I did need a cooking lesson, but I certainly didn’t feel like one tonight. I couldn’t stop thinking about that opium sitting in the boathouse. Could I convince Enzo to meet with Joey w
ithout telling him about it? What would he do if he knew it was there, unguarded? The boathouse was locked and Joey had my key—the rotten thief—but locks were never a problem for Enzo. A smile crept onto my lips and I tried to wipe it off. Quit thinking about him. Joey will wonder why you’re blushing.

  Left alone, I looked around the apartment. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d visited here. The wood floors were clean but creaky, and the furniture was Victorian style, with curvy backs and sides and faded burgundy upholstery. Floral-patterned paper covered the walls, on which hung family photos and religious paintings. A crucifix hung over a Brunswick phonograph in the corner, and a porcelain statue of the Blessed Virgin rested on a side table. Sidestepping away from it like a skittish pony, I perched on the edge of the sofa. A photo album rested on the coffee table, and it was open, as if someone had recently been looking at it.

  Glancing back at the doorway to the hall, I sat back with the album on my lap and turned to the front of the book. Photographs of the Lupo family were fastened at the corners onto black pages, beginning with a wedding portrait of Mr. and Mrs. Lupo. I studied Joey’s father. He looked a lot like Joey, actually, and I wondered how old he’d been when he married. Twenty? Twenty-one, like Joey was now? He and Vince had worked for the Scarfone family, and they were killed the same day, victims of an ambush on the boss, Big Leo Scarfone, right outside the police station. Neither Bridget nor Joey had fully recovered, although more than two years had passed.

  I perused photos of the Lupo family as it grew, quirking a lip at babies in a frilly white baptismal dress and chuckling aloud at the photo of Joey in knee pants, looking miserable and yet adorable in his First Holy Communion portrait.

  “Cute little devil, wasn’t I?”

  I jumped at his voice over my shoulder, and stiffened when he leaned down over the back of the sofa to look more closely. His jaw was so close to mine I could smell his aftershave. If I tilted my head just the right way, my cheek would rest against his. “Devil being the operative word.” I scooted sideways and stood up. “But I like the outfit. You should wear knee pants more often.”