The Canary Club Read online

  He waves me off. “And modest too. No, you, my boy, are exactly who I want at the helm of the Canary Club. I’ll be busy tending to some other new enterprises.” He tilts his head toward Lucky, who returns the gesture.

  Now it’s JD’s turn to speak. I’ll give him credit—his voice is calm, his demeanor stoic. No trace of the rage that I’m sure must be boiling just under the surface.

  “And what about me, your son?”

  Dutch lowers his chin, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t be petulant, boy. I have an important job for you as well.” He uprights himself, his jovial smile returning. “And it’s settled. The grand opening will be four weeks from tonight.”

  As everyone filters out of the room, I stay behind, shooting a glance at Masie as she heads toward the car. Her expression, like her brother’s, gives nothing away.

  “Sir,” I call after Dutch. He’s talking with the wait staff. “Do you have a minute?”

  He pats the waiter on the shoulder and waves me toward the rundown bar. “I know this must have come as a bit of a shock,” he says, lighting a cigarette. “But JD told me about how you caught the bartender who’d been skimming from the club receipts. Between that and the way they both raved about you, I knew it was the right call.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this before. I’m afraid I’ll let you down,” I admit, not adding my desire to continue as Masie’s guard.

  “Nonsense.” He blows a cloud of smoke into the air. “You’re honest, hardworking, and clever. And more than that, you see what this place can be. I have no doubt that between you and my daughter, you’ll have this place ship shape in no time. And don’t worry about the budget. The sky’s the limit.”

  “To be frank, sir, JD should rightfully have this position. He’s been running the other club for a while, and he knows his potatoes.” I pause. “Plus, he just might kill me for taking it out from under him.”

  Dutch chuckles. “See, that’s why I like you, my boy. Managing a club is about two things, the first to show people a good time. JD’s got that down pat. But the second is responsibility. It’s counting the receipts every night and making the deposits; it’s making sure the schedule is made and the staff are on time and presentable. It’s about organizing and promoting various shows and acts. JD treats the other club like his personal playpen, and he’ll continue to do so. Besides, he’s going to be working more with Lucky’s people, dealing with the Indian Hop we’re going to bring in from out west.”

  I rest one arm on the broken bar top. “Well, if you’re sure this is where you want me, of course I’ll do my best, sir.”

  He nods. “It is.” He stubs out his Lucky and taps the bar with the palm of his hand. “Now, I’m off to a meeting with Lucky’s people to make a similar announcement. You take Masie to the club tonight and keep an eye on her. I’ll probably treat myself to a night at one of Lucky’s creep joints to celebrate the deal.”

  He winks at me, and it makes me physically ill. “Of course I’ll look after her, sir.”

  “Good, you scat now, the car’s waiting.”

  JD is nowhere to be found when I reach the car. Masie suggests he opted to walk, citing his need for some fresh air, though I’m sure there’s more to it than just that.

  “So much for my staying on as your guard,” I say, attempting to break the silence building between us.

  She sighs heavily. “I suppose we talked you up too much—not that you don’t deserve the position, of course.”

  “At least it still sounds like we’ll be seeing quite a lot of each other,” I offer, earning myself a sad smile.

  “We should talk about it tonight after my show,” she says, her tone hesitant.

  I chew the inside of my cheek, unable to stop the small rumble of disappointment at her words.

  Her performance that night is inspired. She belts one jazzy tune after another, opting for one long set rather than two with a break between. Maybe it’s the energy of the crowd that spurs her on, or the desire to lose herself to the stage, just for a while. She barely glances my way all evening, her eyes gliding over the audience instead.

  It’s late when JD stumbles in, June hanging on his arm. He’s already blotto, judging by the sway in his step and the slight slur in his words as he approaches where I stand, leaning against the bar.

  He points a finger at me, closing one eye. “We need to have a talk.”

  I motion for him to join me in the back, hoping to at least keep whatever beating he’s about to deliver from the prying eyes of the patrons.

  Following him through the curtain, I tense, expecting the first blow to come fast and without explanation. But when he turns, I make no move to defend myself. I won’t raise a hand to him, my friend, Masie’s brother. That much I’ve already decided. I’ll take my licks if it will somehow soothe his rage.

  To my surprise, there’s no punch, no angry words. He smoothes his hair with one hand and leans against the wall, as if the room has begun to spin and he needs the support.

  “I want you to know I’m not angry with you, Benny,” he says calmly.

  I lean against the opposite wall, crossing my arms and ankles. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were. I never meant for this to happen.”

  He nods, then, closing his eyes, takes a deep breath. “I know. Dutch has been trying to whip me into shape since long before you came into the picture.” He grins, opening one eye. “And without much success.”

  When I say nothing, he continues. I’m not sure if it’s the booze talking or if he’s just in need of a friendly ear, but either way, I listen patiently.

  “Dutch has this idea about what we should be, Mas and me. And no matter what we do or how hard we try, we never quite live up to his expectations. Ah, it doesn’t bother me so much anymore; I’m used to being the family screw-up. I worry about Mas, though. She never wanted any of this, and I know she’s not happy here. This new club, it’s not about business—it’s only about keeping her here, making sure she can never leave.” He snorts. “The Canary Club, more like The Canary Cage.”

  “I know she’s unhappy; I can see that. I just want to help,” I say, pushing off the wall and peeking out the curtain as she begins a new song. Her eyes flicker to me, a moment of concern crossing her face. I wave, just to let her know everything’s alright, and she looks away, returning to her performance.

  “You’re a good fella, Benny. And I know you genuinely care about her.” He steps forward, shoving his hands into his trouser pickets, wobbling just a bit. “The best thing you can do for her is to stay close. Help her make the club into something she can at least live with, if not love. She’s been through enough.”

  “What about you? Is there anything I can do for you?” I reach out, drawing back the curtain for him to pass through.

  On his way by, he pats me on the shoulder. “Oh, I doubt it, but thanks for the offer.”

  Masie finishes her song, making a beeline off stage toward her brother. They exchange a few words—I can’t hear over the noise but it ends in Masie giving him a hug, so it can’t be too bad—and she charms her way through the audience back toward me.

  “Everything alright?” she asks, brushing past me toward her dressing room.

  “Surprisingly enough, yeah. We’re all right.”

  She glances over her shoulder at me, her hand on the doorknob. “I expected him to beat the berries outta you.”

  “You and me both,” I admit, waiting outside as she steps into her dressing room, closing the door.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re alright,” she calls. “I’d hate to have to put you in a hospital bed beside Aggie.”

  “Oh, Ma never woulda let me hear the end of it either.”

  “Which reminds me, when does she come home?”

  I lean against the door. “Today, in fact. She’s recovering so quickly, it’s like a miracle. Ma was bringing her home today.”

  “Well then, why on earth did you waste the day with me?” she asks. “Coney Island could have waited.
”

  I pick at the peeling paint of the door with my thumbnail, scraping flake after flake free before answering. There are a million things I want to say, but it doesn’t seem like the right time for any of them.

  “You should come over tomorrow. I know she’d love to meet you.”

  The door opens, and I step back. Masie, still in her same dress, only with the addition of a long brocade jacket, steps out.

  “I just may do that.”

  Taking the back stairs, we spill out onto the street. There’s still a line of folks trying to get into the packed club, but we ignore them, turning the other way down the street to her car. Albert, who’d been leaning against it, pulls her door open and she slides in.

  “Thanks, Albert,” I mutter, taking my seat at her side.

  “It was a great show tonight,” I say as we pull away from the curb. “As always.”

  She waves one gloved hand. “They come to escape their problems, at least for a while. I’m happy to help them do just that.”

  “Are you? Happy, I mean?”

  She turns in her seat, her knees toward mine, almost touching. “Sometimes. For moments, here and there. I suppose it’s all any of us can hope for, in the end. What about you, Benjamin? Are you happy?”

  My gaze sweeps over her and I realize, maybe for the first time, that my time with her has been some of the happiest in my life.

  Rather than answer, I graze the side of her face with the back of my hand, trying to commit to memory the feel of it, the smooth warmth, the way her breath catches in her chest when I touch her, how her eyes soften, her lids closing just a touch, her lips parting. Whatever happens next, I want to keep the memory of it—of her—preserved forever like a fly in amber.

  She catches my hand in hers, turning it over and leaving a chaste kiss in my palm, her scarlet lipstick stain the only proof that it ever really happened.

  It’s all I can do to keep my distance as we arrive, leaving behind the car and heading up the elevator to the penthouse. The lights are low when we make our way inside. Rudy, still puttering around in the kitchen, greets us in his robe.

  “Miss, do you need anything before I retire for the evening?”

  I could laugh. Evening? It’s a few scant hours from dawn.

  “No, thank you, Butler—I mean, Rudolpho.”

  Nodding once, he scuttles down the west wing to his room, abandoning us to the dim lamplight.

  Masie takes my hand, weaving her fingers through mine, and pulls me down the hall to her room, pausing outside her door for only a moment before opening it and tugging me inside.

  Her room is dark, and for a few heartbeats, that darkness constricts around me, making my heart pound furiously in my chest. I reach out for Masie, unable to see beyond my own nose, and I find her, her back pressed against the now-closed door.

  A deep need seizes me, and I know that if left unchecked, it will run a riot over us both. Leaning against her, I run my hand down the wall, searching until I find the button, and press it. The electric lights flare to life, blinding us.

  Once I can see again, I find her expression a mixture of longing and disappointment. Brushing past me, she steps further into the room. The distance between us is painful at first, the ache of blood behind a bruise, but it’s better. I can breathe again in the absence of her.

  “Masie,” I begin, though I have no idea what I want to say. Part of me wants to lay myself bare to her, to beg her on my knees to be my girl. But I know that’s impossible. I know that doing so would only break me—and that it might break her to do it.

  “I’m only going to ask you this once, so I need you to be completely honest,” she says, stripping off her gloves and draping them over the back of her vanity chair. “Do you want to be with me?”

  I lick my lips. If she were looking at me, I’m sure the answer is written all over my face, but she’s not. Her back is to me, her shoulders straight, her head high.

  “We can’t. Your father would never allow it.”

  Her tone is like dark glass, sharp and dangerous. “That’s not what I asked,” she snaps, spinning to face me.

  I set my jaw, clenching my fists at my sides. “Yes. Of course I do. You know I do.”

  She turns away from me again, this time sitting in the chair as she begins stripping off her jewelry, piece by piece.

  “My father trusts you. He’s given you a great deal of responsibility in running the new club. Which makes me wonder, if, in time, he might be open to the possibility…” Slipping ropes of pearls off her head, she curls them into a wooden box.

  “You think he might give us his blessing?” I ask, stuck somewhere between disbelief and hope.

  She turns in her chair. “I think, if the club is a success, and if you continue to gain his trust, then it might be possible.”

  My mind reels at the thought. She may be right. As a simple errand boy, I’d been nobody, certainly nobody worthy of his daughter. But if I can prove myself to him, if I can become a real part of the organization, then he just might consider it.

  There’s just one flaw in that idea.

  Agent O’Hara expects me to help him bring Dutch down. How can I justify putting my family at risk?

  When Masie speaks again, her voice is as fragile as I’ve ever heard it. That alone draws me from my thoughts. “It will take some time, I realize. So I suppose, what I’m really asking is this—do you care for me enough to wait for me? Do you care enough to try?”

  Before I can even think of moving, I’m on one knee at her side.

  “I can, and I will. I’ll do whatever it takes,” I say, and as soon as I speak the words, I’m overwhelmed with the truth of them. Whatever I have to do to earn my place at her side, whatever I have to do to keep O’Hara off my back and away from my family, I’ll do it. For the first time in weeks, I truly believe I can.

  Leaning over, she captures my face in her hands and kisses me deeply. It’s not desperate or wild, as our last encounter had been. This is slow and calm. It’s a promise being sealed.

  When she draws back, it takes all my willpower to let her go rather than hold her to me. “In the meantime, we’ll spend every moment together, working to make the Canary Club the best gin mill this side of the Mississippi.”

  “We’ll do it together, and when it’s done, I’ll talk to Dutch about us,” I pledge. By then, I’ll be able to tell Dutch about O’Hara putting the screws to me. He’ll know how to handle it. In the meantime, I just have to keep the detective at bay long enough to make myself indispensable.

  Somehow.

  The days seem to fly past as we prepare for the grand opening. Benjamin and I spend nearly every day, sunup to sunset, in the new building. He busies himself ordering tile for the floors and new brass rail for the bars, asking my opinion on every light fixture and chair covering. Somehow, he manages to make the process feel less like a chore and more like an exciting new adventure.

  He even brings the twins in for lunch a few times a week. I spread blankets on the floor and we pretend to be sitting on a beach in the south of France while I nibble cucumber sandwiches and Thomas devours his weight in hot dogs from the cart outside. Agnes, it turns out, has a gifted ear, and I wile away my spare time teaching her to play the new grand piano as Benjamin watches us from across the room. I even teach her the lullaby my mother had sang to me as a child. Every time she sees me, she runs into my arms, burying her face into the crook of my neck when I lift her off her feet. I hum a few bars, and she hums the next. We sing the last line in unison, then I usher her off to sneak truffles from the kitchen as a reward.

  Even his mother comes to see. The pride in Benny’s eyes is unmistakable as he shows her his plans for the new kitchen, and she seems impressed despite herself.

  It takes a few days to find a new band, and while Benjamin gives me complete autonomy to choose my new players, I do force him to sit with me through each audition.

  We are always very careful of how we interact. The place is constantly c
rawling with workmen—both my father and Lucky’s—and we are all too aware of their watchful eyes upon us, not to mention my once-again guard-come-chaperone Tony. Though, he quickly tires of sitting around, and it doesn’t take much for me to convince him to leave me in Benjamin’s care during the day. He’d been my guard once too, after all. Tony quickly agrees to meet me at the penthouse at night and escort me to the club. Though before I leave, Benjamin and I sneak into the back office in the guise of settling the day’s accounts to spend a few stolen moments in each other’s embrace.

  It’s a sweet torture, made bearable only by the hope of things to come.

  Each night I sing, it’s with a lightness I haven’t felt in as long as I can remember. For the first time, I let myself relax in the promise of the future. Not the perfect future, not the future I’d imagined, but a future where I can carve out some measure of happiness for myself.

  It’s something I never dared dream possible.

  Even Daddy notices the elevation in my spirits, commenting on it over breakfast one morning as I race to eat and make my way to the club.

  “It might be time to ease off on the coffee,” he teases as I bound onto the terrace where he and JD sit, both with their noses in the morning paper.

  “The new stage is finally finished,” I say, popping a grape in my mouth and squishing it with my tongue to release the sweet syrup. “Which means today we’re going to hang the lights. I want to be there to make sure it’s all set up properly.”

  Daddy folds the paper down, smiling. “I was thinking of taking you across the river today, maybe rack up some time in Atlantic City. We could go wander the boardwalk.”

  I feel myself freeze, my mind spinning with a way to reject his offer. Before I say anything, he leans forward, pressing the issue.

  “Surely Benny can supervise without you for one day?”

  I shrug, looking away. “Well, yes, but what does he know about stage lighting? I’d hate for him to get it all wrong and me just spend twice the time tomorrow fixing it.”