Dollface: A Novel of the Roaring Twenties (30 page)

We found Mr. Warren Steel inside. He was a short man with a slight frame and a Dr. Grabow–style pipe planted in his mouth. I would have guessed him to be in his mid- to late thirties. He was clean-shaven with sprigs of reddish brown hair sprouting up from his glossy scalp. He wore coveralls and mud-caked work boots.

“You girls lost?”

“No.” I held out my hand and introduced myself using my maiden name. “I understand that you have some liquor that we could buy.”

He took a step back, pulled the pipe from his mouth. “This isn’t a speakeasy, miss. If you want a drink—”

“No, no, I realize that. But see, I have some people looking for whiskey and I’ve heard you have some you’d like to sell.”

“Where’d you hear that from?”

“Let’s just say I have some people looking out for me.” I had to keep Shep and the North Siders out of it.

He closed his hand around the bowl of his pipe and took a puff, squinting one eye. “I may have what you’re looking for.” He took another couple slow puffs and looked at our automobile parked out front. I hadn’t thought about it before, but I supposed pulling up in a new Cadillac hadn’t hurt our cause. “Follow me,” he said.

He led us to a musty back room, and when he reached up for the string hanging from a naked bulb, the scene came to life. There were rows of wooden crates stacked floor to ceiling, each plastered with a “Baker’s Flour” label on the side.

Opening one of the crates, he pulled out a bottle of whiskey, wiped off the dust, uncapped the top and handed it to me.

I held the bottle, studying the label: Distilled in Canada. Imported Genuine Canadian Blend . 
. 
.
I looked up and gave him a nod.

“I assume you want to sample the merchandise,” he said.

“Of course.” I took a sip. It was the real stuff, just like he’d said. I passed the bottle to Evelyn, who looked like she could have used a good belt of whiskey. She hadn’t said a word since we’d arrived.

Warren Steel rocked back on his heels and eyed me first and then Evelyn. “I’ve never dealt with a couple of women before.”

I nodded. “I understand your hesitation.” I took a step forward and handed back his bottle. “But remember, I’ve never dealt with
you
before, either.”

He snickered.

I peered into the case he had uncrated and then looked him in the eye. “Mr. Steel, I know you’ve been cheated before, but you’ll find that I’m more than fair. I’m not out to chisel you. And between the two of us”—I gestured toward Evelyn—“we’ll get your merchandise moving. Unless, of course, you’d rather it just sit in your warehouse collecting dust.”

He struck a match and fired up his pipe, filling the musty air with the sweet smell of tobacco. Squinting from the smoke, he said, “I’ll let you have it for twenty-five dollars a case.”

I hesitated the right amount of time before I said, “That’ll be just fine.”

I detected a smile.

•   •   •

“D
id you hear yourself in there?” Evelyn said once we got back to the car. “You sounded like a regular bootlegger. Where did you learn to wheel and deal like that?”

I pulled out a cigarette and tapped it to the center of the steering wheel. “Helps to have a mother who’s dealt with men all her life.” I sounded coy about it, but I was damn proud of how I’d conducted myself in there. I struck the match, holding it while it burned for a second or two.

“My lord.” Sinking down in the passenger seat, Evelyn propped her feet up on the dash and began to laugh. “Wow—was that ever fun!”

I lit my cigarette and shot her a surprised look. “Just remember, now we have to find some people to sell his liquor to.”

Before we’d left, Warren Steel and I had shaken hands and I was given a bottle for sampling. I told him we’d be back in touch to set up our first pickup and delivery.

Evelyn and I spent the rest of the week going over the list of customers from Shep’s files.

After a long drive to the west side of the city, we arrived outside a dilapidated building with boarded-up windows and a splintered sign that said, “Gaylord’s Fine Dining.”

“Well,” I said, putting the car in park and looking at Evelyn, “what’s next?”

Next came a string of abandoned saloons.

“How are we going to find a customer when everybody’s out of business?” said Evelyn, fishing a piece of chewing gum out of her pocketbook.

“Don’t lose hope. We still have more places to try.”

Twenty minutes later we pulled up to a modest-looking brick building on Sheffield near the el tracks. There was no sign outside, but the address matched up.

I pulled out my compact and a tube of lipstick. “Now just follow my lead,” I said, giving myself a quick touch-up.

Evelyn finished her cigarette and we headed inside, letting a wedge of daylight pierce an otherwise dark tavern. It smelled of stale beer and tobacco. A film clung to the glasses behind the bar and it looked as though they hadn’t been washed in a year. My shoes were sticking to the floor.

Three grisly-looking men at the bar stared us up and down.

One of them stood up and circled around us. “You gals wanna drink?”

I shot a sideways glance at Evelyn. My pulse was racing.

“What’ll it be?” asked the bartender, a pudgy middle-aged man with pockmarked cheeks and gray stubble along his chin.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” I said. “I think we have the wrong place.”

I grabbed Evelyn and as soon as we cleared the doorway, we ran for the car.

Once we were a safe distance away, I pulled onto the shoulder of the road and threw the car in park. Resting my head on the steering wheel, I sighed. “You were right. This is crazy.”

“Don’t be discouraged. Who’s left?” Evelyn reached for the list and scanned down the names. “We haven’t tried this place yet.” She shoved the paper before me.

“It’s all the way up in Northfield.” I blew out another sigh. I was tired and my legs were stiff from sitting in the car all day. “I just don’t think this is going to work.”

“But there’re still at least half a dozen places to try.”

“I’m sorry I dragged you into this, Ev. You were right all along. This was a dumb idea.”

“Oh, c’mon! Don’t give up. We can’t quit now. All we need is one—just one person to give us a chance.” She cocked her eyebrow and gave me her best Billy the Kid. “C’mon, what do you say? I know we can do this. I know we can.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry but I don’t see how this is going to work.” Feeling defeated, I put the car in gear and headed back onto the road.

I dropped Evelyn off and then stopped at Dora’s to get Hannah. It was already dark, and the streetlamps were glowing like globes hovering over their neighborhood. I hoped Dora had fed Hannah, maybe even given her a bath.

When Dora answered the door I apologized for being so late.

“Don’t be silly. Hannah’s been a little angel. C’mon in.”

I walked into the parlor and there was my daughter, dressed in a new pretty pink outfit and a pair of new shoes. There was a teddy bear next to her on the rug.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful,” I said, reaching for Hannah and hoisting her into my arms, freckling her face with kisses. “Where’d all this come from, huh?”

“Just a little something from her auntie Dora.” Dora stroked Hannah’s dark curls. “We girls did a little shopping today.”

“I can see that. You shouldn’t have, Dora.”

“It was nothing.” Dora picked up the teddy bear and held it up so Hannah could see. “She just loves her new teddy. Don’t you?”

Dora dangled the bear and Hannah reached for it, grabbing hold of its paw, her tiny face bursting into a smile as she giggled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her laughing like that. Seeing my daughter so happy, I should have been grateful to Dora, but instead I felt stung and somehow I twisted Dora’s generosity into a declaration of my shortcomings as a mother. I hated feeling like that. I knew I was being self-centered and selfish and now, on top of everything else, I had reason to be ashamed of myself, too.

“I hope you don’t mind,” said Dora, still prancing the teddy bear before Hannah’s outstretched fingers. “I just put her old clothes in a bag. If you want, I can throw them out. Everything was so small on her anyway. Besides, she’s far too pretty to be dressed like a pauper.”

I couldn’t bring myself to say thank you or even smile, because I was buckling under the weight of my failures. And at the same time, I had a premonition: Hannah as a young girl, sitting with her friends and laughing at me, making fun of me just as I’d done to my mother.

“C’mon, honey,” I said, clutching her closer, an ache spreading across my chest. “We have to go now.”

While I walked to the car, I pressed my lips to Hannah’s ear and whispered, “I promise you, we’re going to be okay. I’m going to take care of you. I promise. I promise.”

After we got home and I had put Hannah to bed, I telephoned Evelyn. “Are you free tomorrow?”

HAULING THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD

T
he next day Evelyn and I went back out in search of a customer and met with a man named Simon Marvin. When we told him what we were up to, he backed off, saying, “I don’t deal in liquor anymore. Been raided one time too many.”

I thanked him for his time, and as Evelyn and I were walking out of his office, he called to us. “But”—he came over and removed his hat—“if you’re sure you’ve got the genuine article there, straight from Canada, you should go talk to my brother, Felix.”

Twenty minutes later we turned up on Felix Marvin’s front steps. I noticed the mezuzah nailed to the doorjamb.

He looked at us and smiled. The first thing he said was, “Two nice Jewish girls. That’s a new twist. Come.” He motioned us inside his office. “Simon told me you were on your way.”

He made us coffee, offered us some strudel that his wife had baked that morning. He was kind, well dressed with manicured hands and a gleaming wedding band. There was a prayer book on the corner of his desk along with a tallis bag. I took it as a sign. Something about a Jew doing business with another Jew put me more at ease.

After I’d poured him a taste of Warren’s whiskey, he took a sip and a reflective moment later he nodded. “I have almost a dozen speakeasies out in the suburbs. Your Canadian whiskey would make for a nice addition.”

“It’s top-shelf.”

“This I can tell.” He raised his glass.

“I can let you have it for thirty dollars a case.”

“Thirty?” He rubbed his chin and nodded. “Your price is fair. You seem like a couple of nice,
hamishe
girls. What you’re doing in this line of work is beyond me,” he said with a shrug. “But if I can help you and you can help me, why not, eh?”

So after a cup of coffee and a little
kibitzing
, Evelyn and I had our first customer. He ordered twenty cases—more than I’d been expecting—but if we had to, we could stow a couple cases in the front seat. My only stipulation was that he had to give us half the money up front.

It was a deal, and by nightfall, Evelyn and I both had twenty-five dollars in our pockets.

•   •   •

E
velyn was nervous on that first run. But surprisingly, I wasn’t. No, I had surpassed fear months ago. Now I was determined to do whatever I had to do in order to survive. The ride up was a breeze and this time we didn’t get lost.

When we made it to Steel’s warehouse in Milwaukee, Warren and his men were waiting for us. After questioning where our truck was and learning that we were taking only twenty cases, Warren dismissed his men in disgust.

“It’s hardly worth the trouble,” he said as he unlocked the back gate.

I tried to assure him there’d be many more runs in the future but he waved my words away as if they were gnats buzzing about his head.

While Evelyn and I hefted each case of liquor in our arms and wobbled our way to the car, he leaned back and smoked his pipe. After watching us struggle for a few minutes, he finally decided to lend a hand.

It was a tight squeeze. We had to take the bottles out of the cases just so they would fit. Twenty minutes later, all but one case made it into the backseat, slumbering under a heavy wool blanket. The last case rode up front on the floor beneath Evelyn’s feet.

The drive back to Chicago was fortunately uneventful, despite the rattling of the bottles in the back. I was thankful not a single one broke. When we made it to Felix’s dropoff point, he was a bit miffed when we began handing over individual bottles, so I lied and said the cases had all come in broken. He accepted this and we were on our way.

By midnight, the two of us were another twenty-five dollars richer and even Evelyn had to admit, “This is easy!”

When I stopped by Dora’s to pick up Hannah, Dora showed me the blanket she was knitting for my daughter.

The sight of the wooden needles stabbed me through the heart and made my mouth go dry. “It’s beautiful.” I couldn’t look at those needles. “Sweetheart,” I said, calling to Hannah, “you ready to go home?”

Hannah looked up at me just as Knuckles came through the back way, slamming the door with a bang so loud it frightened her. Her eyes grew wide as she let out a high-pitched scream and ran to Dora.

I felt clobbered. Dora scooped my child up in her arms and patted soothing circles on her back. “It’s okay. Uncle Knuckles didn’t mean to scare you.”

I pasted on a smile, overcompensating for my heartache by thanking Dora with the kind of enthusiasm reserved for heroic acts while she fastened on the new coat and hat she’d purchased for Hannah.

“Oh, wait, don’t forget your new baby doll!”

I reached for Hannah’s free hand as she grabbed the doll from Dora. Even though Hannah was too young to know the difference, I knew I’d have to upstage that doll with a better one.

And it didn’t stop there. I went on a shopping spree the following week. After I’d spent all but five dollars on toys and clothes for Hannah, Felix Marvin called and ordered another fifty cases.

“Fifty cases!” Evelyn’s eyes grew wide with alarm. She’d been sitting in the living room, listening to a radio program while I’d taken the telephone call from Felix. “We can’t fit fifty cases in the car. Why did you tell him we could do it?”