Artie ran a knuckle down the side of the dangling dress with a brassy smile. “They’re just showing their approval.” He glanced over, and his eyebrows danced the Shimmy.
“Well, they can keep their approval”—she flashed her palms—“to themselves. That goes for you too.”
“You bring such character to this place, Vera. It’s beyond me how you fill each moment with surprise. Say, that’s a pretty good lyric. Put it in your next song.”
“No, you write it, Art-man. For all I care, you can sing it too. Then I could clear out for good.” Would the blinding lights of New York City be enough to dim the memories of this place? Of her past? The hollow stirring in her chest begged for the chance to find out.
“You don’t mean that.”
She planted a hand on the curve of her waist and glared, hoping the flooding doubt in her heart didn’t seep into her eyes.
“You’re not thinking of abandoning me, are you?” He clucked his tongue and withdrew a cigarette case from his trouser pocket. “Don’t go shooting for anything higher, because you might end up shooting yourself. If you get my meaning.” He puffed out his chest as if Vera was supposed to bow to his philosophical superiority.
Why did narrow minds always have wide mouths? She slunk onto the vanity bench. “I don’t remember askin’ for your advice. And don’t even think about lighting up in here. As if my lungs aren’t charred enough.” She couldn’t escape the sorry fact she lived in a city known across the country as The Big Smoke, with its numerous factories belching ashen venom into the very air she breathed, but she could control the atmosphere of her dressing room.
He sighed and returned the case to his pocket. “Just trying to help, kid.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, the sweat from his palm dampening her blouse. “I can’t help but feel a particular concern for you. Especially after all we’ve been through, cousin.”
“Don’t start that again.”
“Do you really want your little mystery to be revealed? Though some may call it a lie.”
She swatted his fingers, chasing away his touch. If only she could smack free his words. Mystery. Lie. What about struggling to exist?
“Is the boss coming tonight?”
What else could she have done? The soot-tarnished streets of Pittsburgh hadn’t been her planned destination, but after a string of failed typing tests and even more disastrous job assessments, her hopes for work had narrowed from slim to nothing. The only skill she’d mastered during her first eighteen years of life had been distinguishing a dime from a nickel. But that had been enough to pique Artie’s interest. Being hired as the Kelly Club’s cigarette girl had been a far cry from Vera’s childhood dreams, but it’d saved her from starvation. Since then, she’d been promoted to leading canary.
“Vera?” He fingered her crimson locks. “Did you hear me, or is the Notox dye sinking in?”
She jerked away from his grasp. “I don’t color my hair. And how am I supposed to know if Carson is comin’?”
His brow spiked. “He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”
“What about it?”
“Just thought he’d enjoy hearing a little story.” He scratched his rounded middle and rocked back on his heels. “About a girl who’d been telling fibs about who she really was since the day she was hired. A girl who manipulated her way into becoming a bootlegger’s girlfriend.”
Her chin poked forward. “You had a nice racket going on, but I’m not afraid of him finding out. Not anymore.”
He shrugged. “Then why not up and leave like you were belly-aching earlier?”
She tried—oh how she tried—to hold her sternum stiff, keep her chest from deflating, but Artie noticed, and his smile stretched longer.
“Because you know as much as I do how Carson Kelly is paranoid over the loyalty of his staff. Careful about his—”
“Can’t tack all that on me.” She gripped the edges of the seat, squeezing. “Don’t forget you hired me. Forced me to pretend I was related to you so I could be accepted without question. Chiseled my pay because you knew you had me in a spot.” How foolish she’d been, thinking Artie had rescued her from the gutter by offering her a job, introducing her to the handsome Carson. She’d believed he’d gathered her under his wing only to discover he’d pinned her beneath his thumb.
“I have a bigger bargaining chip with the boss-man. He won’t touch me. But you …” His mocking tone thickened with each word. “If he found out you’ve been deceiving him all this time, he’ll start to wonder what else you’ve been lying to him about.”
“Saying I was your cousin to get a job in this joint isn’t earth-shattering.” Not anymore. Now that she had a good standing with Carson. Maybe he would think nothing of it, especially since she’d been drawing in crowds. Considering the hundreds of speakeasies in the area, couldn’t it be viewed as an accomplishment for the mob to linger at the Kelly Club, miles away from the famed Rum Row? “I’m telling Cars, tonight. So you might as well get it through your thick, blackmailing skull—your control over me is finished.”
“Let’s not be hasty.” He helped himself to a stool.
“You’ve got nothing on me, Artie.”
“Not on Vera Pembroke, but I have a whole lot on Collette Green.”
Her throat went drier than an avid teetotaler’s. How could he—
“I have eyes everywhere.” He tapped his temple. “What would Carson think when I tell him his prized singer—his favorite girl—betrayed him?”
“Look, Artie, it was only—”
“Singing for the enemy. You know how much your boyfriend hates Tony Russo. That was no small thing when the whiskey king convinced all those bootleggers to quit selling their goods to Carson. Yet you go work for Russo using a fake name. And a wig. By the way, you look awful as a blonde.”
She lowered her head, heart thudding dully in her chest. Maybe taking opportunity during Carson’s business trips hadn’t been a good idea. She’d crooned in the Moonlight Club only a handful of times over the past three months, and only because of rumors that Russo had connections with the Ziegfeld Follies. Yet the big shot hadn’t shown up any of the times she’d been there. And now she was chained to Artie again. All because she wanted to escape.
“You stick with me, and everything will work out grand. You’ll see.” He gave a syrupy smile. “Don’t know why you want to ditch the boss, anyway. He’s a powerful man. Has friends in many places. And you know how loyal his friends can be.”
Was Artie implying Carson was a gangster? Or was his threat cheaper than his fifty-cent toupee?
“Besides, you’ve been a lot more decorated since you two got together.” His gaze slid to her bracelet. “That’s a pretty trinket you got there.”
She lifted her forearm, the diamond chain slipping under her sleeve.
“Looks like he has a lot of dough to hand around. It’s a good thing Betsy got hungry.”
Her brow wrinkled at the shift in conversation. “Who’s Betsy?”
“Just another doll.” He chuckled.