Speak Low Page 3

  “Thanks, but I don’t think that suit fits me anymore.” He grinned as he straightened. “It’d probably fit you, though. You’re about the size of an eight-year-old boy.”

  “Very funny.” I pulled the apron away from my white blouse. “Do I really have to wear this? You’re not actually going to make me cook anything, are you?”

  “I thought you wanted a lesson. Here, I’ll tie it.” He motioned for me to come forward and turn around, and I felt his hands at the small of my back as he tied the strings. A funny ticklish feeling fluttered through my belly. “There. Now at least you look like you know what you’re doing.”

  I faced him. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

  Joey looked skyward. “Now she figures it out.”

  #

  “Is that spaghetti?” I peered over Joey’s shoulder at the large copper pot full of boiling water, into which he’d thrown two handfuls of some kind of long noodle.

  “No, it’s fettuccine. Please tell me you at least recognize the vegetable.” He gestured toward a second pot.

  I peeked in. “Green beans.”

  “Thank God. Now go slice the bread and set the table.”

  While I did that, Joey warmed up some meatballs in the oven and poured some red wine. When supper was ready, we sat across from each other at one end of a table meant for eight, and I quickly devoured the meal in huge, blissful bites. The meatballs and noodles were lightly coated with a savory tomato sauce, and the green beans glistened with butter and lemon. “Oh my God, it’s so good.” I forked my last bite of meatball and shoved it in my mouth.

  “I’ve heard that about my meatballs.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and was about to make a sharp-tongued remark when a face appeared in the hallway leading off the dining room to the bedrooms.

  “Ma, what do you need?” Joey jumped up from his chair, throwing his napkin on his empty plate. “Why didn’t you call me?” He led her into the dining room by the arm as she took small, unsteady steps in battered house slippers. It was as if she’d aged twenty years since I’d last seen her, perhaps only a year ago.

  “Mrs. Lupo, hello. It’s nice to see you again.”

  “Hello, Tiny. Please forgive me for not welcoming you to my home myself. I’m no feeling so well these days.” Her accent was still pronounced despite fifteen years in this country. She offered me a rueful smile and let Joey help lower her into a chair at the head of the table.

  “Think nothing of it, really. Joey has been a very welcoming host.”

  Her face brightened a little as she looked at her son. “Like his father was.”

  Joey cleared his throat. “Are you hungry?”

  “No, no. I came out to say hello and finish the dishes.”

  “I’ll do the dishes. You can rest. Would you like to listen to the phonograph a little?”

  “I’ll help with the dishes, too,” I offered, stacking our plates together.

  While he moved his mother to the sofa in the front room, I rinsed the dishes and silverware in the large kitchen sink and retrieved the soap from a low cupboard. Soon I heard music coming from the phonograph, which got louder when Joey propped open the swinging door to the kitchen. Wordlessly he took his place next to me, toweling off the dishes I washed and then setting them in the rack to finish drying. I ignored the light hum under my skin at his proximity, but I did steal a few looks at his hands as he worked. When the last dish was in the rack, Joey sighed and shook his head. “I need a drink.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He looked at me. “Let’s go up on the roof.”

  #

  Ten minutes later we were sitting in the starlight on the building’s roof, each with a tumbler of whisky in hand and the bottle between us. Joey tossed back his drink in one gulp and poured another.

  I sipped mine, enjoying the way it burned down my throat and spread liquid warmth in my belly. “Thanks for supper. It was delicious. I really should take a cooking lesson from you sometime.”

  He shrugged. “If there’s time before I leave.”

  “For Chicago, you mean?”

  “Yeah. Once I settle things with the cake eater and get my ma moved into my sister’s house, I’m going.” He glanced sideways at me. “You’ll miss me, huh?”

  I punched him on the shoulder. “Yeah, what will I do without someone around to call me Little Tomato, make fun of my cooking, and tease me mercilessly about my size?” But I was unsettled by the realization that I would miss seeing him. I’d miss hearing his voice, knowing he was around if I needed him. As we looked at one another, a light breeze ruffled my hair, and the strains of a waltz drifted up from an open window. To break the spell, I sipped my whisky and changed the subject. “It’s nice up here.”

  “I used to come up here with my pop.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. We’d escape my mother and sisters, and he’d let me smoke while he told me about the stars just like his father did when he was a kid.” His voice cracked a little.

  “You must miss him.”

  Joey nodded, took another drink. “Every day.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He was quiet a moment. “I wish I knew for sure who did it. I hate that the bastard got away with it. I’d like to make him suffer, you know? Pay for what he did.”

  I nodded, although I didn’t know what it must be like to have that burning need for revenge inside me. I knew about loss, though. “I miss my mom every day, too.”

  “It’s been rough on you, huh? With those kids at home.”

  “Yeah. Some days all I want to do is escape it all.” Another silence followed, during which I grew increasingly uncomfortable with the way he was running his eyes over each feature on my face—my eyes, my cheeks, my lips. Was he starting to lean toward me?

  “So you know about stars?” I looked up at the sky.

  “Don’t sound so shocked, college girl. You’re not the only one with brains around here.” Joey drank again and leaned back on his hands.

  “Nursing school isn’t exactly college. And right now I don’t have the money to go back in the fall.”

  “Ask your pop for the money. He owes you, I’d say.”

  “Easier said than done. I have no idea what his business will be like from now on. If Angel insists on a high cut, he won’t be making as much, especially if he’s got to cut the River Gang in too. Are they still intent on transporting all loads across the river for a fee?”

  “Yeah. But I still don’t get why your dad met with Angel today.”

  “That’s because I haven’t told you the final piece of the story.” I took a deep breath. “Angel released Daddy and me in exchange for making a business deal that sort of makes him a partner in the bootlegging operation.”

  Joey sat straight up. “What do you mean, released you?”

  “Well, after you left for Chicago with the stolen load, Enzo’s younger brother Raymond and his buddy Harry lured me to the boathouse with the ransom money, stole it, and took me to a cabin in the woods, where they’d also taken Daddy.”

  “What!” Shock rippled through the word. “What the hell for?”

  “In their greedy little minds it made sense—they thought they’d use the ransom money to start running dope or something, and Raymond wanted to prove to his father he was a big-time player, like his brother.” I took another swallow, grateful for the numbing buzz of the whisky. “But it backfired because Harry kept calling Raymond stupid, so Raymond shot him and dragged his body into the woods. Then Daddy and I convinced him we’d go into business with him to show his father and brother how important he was.”

  “Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?” Joey’s mouth hung open, and he ran a hand through his thick, unruly brown hair.

  “Nope. But once he brought me back to town, I managed to escape and get to Enzo.”

  Joey’s eyelids lowered. “Let me guess. He’s the fucking hero.”

  “Not exactly.” I ignored his sarcasm. “Angel was furious with Raymond f
or interfering, and he was already mad at Enzo about the hijacked booze.”

  “Good.” Joey picked up his glass for a gulp.

  “So I got Angel to release us both by assuring him Daddy would work for him, or at least pay him the percentage he’d wanted in the first place.”

  “Fucking brilliant.”

  I stiffened. “I did what I had to, Joey. I was scared.”

  He closed his eyes, leaned back on his elbows, and tipped his chin up, exhaling toward the sky. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone here.”

  Right then I made the decision not to tell him that Raymond had wanted me as part of the deal, or how he’d attacked me at the club last night—not only would he feel more guilt, but I’d have to tell him that it was Enzo who broke into the room and fought off his brother before I clubbed him with a heavy lamp. And then later, in Enzo’s room…

  I shoved the memory of sex with Enzo from my mind. “It’s not your fault, Joey. You did everything you could to help me get that ransom money. I’m so grateful to you, and Daddy is too. We have our freedom, at least; the rest is just a business deal.”

  Joey didn’t open his eyes right away. I wrapped my arms around my knees, and we sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to a scratchy piano waltz coming from the phonograph downstairs, before he spoke. “You need to go back to school. Get out of this business. It’s not for you.”

  Tipping sideways a little, I elbowed him. “Look who’s talking. Haven’t we had this conversation before? I believe it was you who said, ‘The movies make you want things. I’m gonna get ‘em.’”

  He shook his head. “We’re different, Tiny. You’ve got the brains to make something of yourself without being in danger all the time.”

  “So do you! I was thinking about it earlier, during supper. You could take over here, or use the money you get from the opium to open up your own restaurant or something. You’re talented, Joey. You don’t need to spend your life breaking laws or skulls to make a buck.”

  He sat up and rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. “We’re not talking about me. It’s you who got the good marks in school. I screwed around too much, didn’t care enough. If I could go back, I’d do a lot of things differently.”

  “You mean school?”

  “I mean a lot of things.”

  What I would do differently if I could go back and change something in my life? For the most part, I’d done well in school and stayed out of trouble. Taking care of the house and watching over my sisters took up a lot of time, and I’d worked for Daddy a lot the last few years too. There may have been a boy or two I wish I hadn’t kissed, but I had no major regrets so far—unless Enzo turned out to be a big mistake. Which is entirely possible.

  Joey looked over at me. “So why don’t you get a different job? Make the tuition money on your own?”

  I groaned. “I think I’ll have to.”

  “How much do you need?” His eyes were serious.

  “You’re not giving it to me.”

  “I didn’t offer anything. I just asked how much.”

  Tipping back the last swallow of my whiskey, I set the glass down next to me and leaned back on my hands again. “It’s not just tuition. I feel like there are so many things weighing me down. I want more freedom. I want to move out of my father’s house. Get my own place and start living, you know? I’m tired of feeling as if I’m waiting for my real life to start.”

  Joey nodded but said nothing. He finished his second drink and propped his arms on his wide-spaced knees, looking straight ahead. When he finally spoke, the words stunned me. “Come with me.”

  “What?” I couldn’t possibly have heard that right.

  He looked at me over his shoulder. “Come with me. To Chicago.”

  “Why would I go with you to Chicago?”

  “You said yourself you wanted to get out of your pop’s house. I’m offering you that chance. You could go to school in Chicago. It would be like going away to college or something.”

  “That’s nuts, Joey! I can’t afford that! Where would I live?”

  “With me.”

  “With you!”

  “We could find an apartment.”

  “Together?” I picked up my whiskey glass, found it empty, and tipped it to my lips anyway, hoping to suck up any miniscule drop left at the bottom.

  “Why not?”

  “Why not? I’ll tell you why not. Because we’re not—” Frantically I moved my hand back and forth between us. I didn’t even know how to put it.

  “We don’t have to be. I just want you away from here, away from people who…put you in danger. I want you safe, that’s all.”

  Suddenly something clicked. “No, you don’t.”

  “What?” Now it was Joey’s turn to be surprised.

  “You don’t care if I’m safe. You’d be doing the same things down there you’re doing up here. I’d still be around the same kind of people breaking all the same laws. You just don’t want me to be with him.”

  Joey shook his head. “That’s not true! I’m offering to take you away from all the crummy things weighing you down. I’m offering you a chance to start living your life for you, like you said!”

  “Bullshit!” I jumped up. “You’re just jealous!”

  Joey popped to his feet too, fists clenched at his sides. “He doesn’t care about you!” he roared. “You’ll never be anything more to him than a good time!”

  “Which is more than you can say, isn’t it? And that’s really what we’re talking about. You’re mad because he got something you want.” I poked him in the chest.

  Joey breathed hard, his brown eyes flashing with angry fire. “Maybe he did.”

  Those three words stunned me silent. It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting he felt anything for me, and I had no idea how to react. Weren’t you at least supposed to kiss the girl if you were asking her to run away with you?

  Before I could speak, Joey went on. “This is the only time I’ll make this offer, Tiny. I want you to come with me, but I won’t ask you again. You have to tell me tonight.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him and cocked my head. “An ultimatum. How romantic.”

  He pressed his lips together. “Forget I asked.”

  The fight left my body. “Come on, Joey, can’t we at least—”

  “No. You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking. It would never work.” He leaned over, picked up the whiskey bottle and his glass, and walked to the stairs before I could argue.

  And why would you argue? You don’t want to run away with him. What the hell kind of offer was that, anyway? It wasn’t like he’d confessed his love and begged me to return it. He was just being a sore loser. Frowning, I followed him through the apartment, down the stairs and straight into the car.

  Neither of us spoke on the ride home, and the tension between us grew thicker and more awkward with every wordless second. It made me realize how comfortable our silences had been before.

  Those days were over.

  I was dangerously close to tears by the time he pulled into my driveway, but the sight of the Ford Model T Daddy and I shared parked next to the house was a relief—he was home from his meeting with the DiFiores.

  “Thanks again for supper,” I said quietly, one hand on the door.

  “Tell nobody about the opium. Got it?” Joey’s tone was as cold as his stare.

  “I got it.”

  “Forget I said a word about it. In fact, forget every single word I said tonight.” He switched his focus straight ahead, out the windshield.

  I stared at his stubbornly set jaw in disbelief. Was he really going to be such a child about this? He’d had plenty of opportunities to admit he felt something for me—not that he was admitting anything now, either. Why couldn’t he just say something, anything, about his feelings? Give me some reason besides his jealousy to consider his offer?

  But he remained silent.

  Chapter Three

  “Daddy?” I called
the second I got inside the house.

  “In here.”

  I followed his voice into the kitchen, where I found him sitting at the table with a notebook, pencil in hand, and a glass of whiskey. “What are you doing?”

  “Just running some numbers.”

  “Feds are looking for you,” I said breathlessly, sliding into the chair across from him and studying his face. We didn’t look much alike. I had my mother’s Irish farm girl coloring—red hair, fair skin, blue eyes. Daddy was dark-haired and brown-eyed, and even before Raymond DiFiore beat him bloody last week, his face had worn the faint scars and crooked nose of a youth spent boxing in underground fights.

  “So I hear. I saw Martin earlier.” He didn’t sound particularly worried about it.

  “Are they going to arrest you?”

  “They got nothing on me. Most they can do is bring me in for questioning.”

  His lack of concern reminded me of Joey. God, men were so exasperatingly overconfident. None of them ever thought anything bad would happen to them. Maybe that’s how they live like this, day after day. “So how did the meeting go?”

  “Uh, good.”

  “And what’s that mean?”

  He swallowed some whiskey before answering. “They want me to move my auto repair operation to one of their buildings downtown.”

  “Why? So they can keep a closer eye on you?”

  “It’s bigger.”

  The way he refused to look up from his notebook made me twitchy. “And?”

  “And it’s got a second floor where I can run a poker game. And maybe a sports book. Might be organizing some fights too.”

  Aha. I sat back. Nothing was more irresistible to Daddy than an opportunity to place a bet. Didn’t matter on what—cards, dice, horses, dogs, fights, ball games…he couldn’t resist. When our mother was alive, her presence had kept the habit in check, but since her death he’d been increasingly susceptible to it. Fear oozed into my bloodstream and my heart thumped a bit quicker. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

  “It’ll mean more money coming in.”