Flirtinis with Flappers (17 page)

He giggled. Actually giggled. "Stop that!" he cried, swatting me playfully. I forced myself to not roll my eyes. For a big-time people-killing Chicago-controlling gangster, he really was a silly little boy when it came to his feet.

Can we say
freak?

I stopped the tickling. "Okay, dearie, I'll see you later," I said. I headed to the door, more than ready to make my exit.

"Don't stray too far," McGurn called after me. "We've got to check in to the hotel tomorrow. It'll be a nice romantic Valentine's Day. Just the two of us."

My shoulders slumped. I was really running out of time, wasn't I? Soon it would be just the twelve of us: me, him, and his ten fat, smelly toes.

"Terrif," I muttered. "Can't wait."

No matter how dim-witted Ratty might have thought me, Observant Reporter Girl did thankfully have the common sense to note where Daisy lived when we'd stopped by her place yesterday. (I'd waited in the car while she ran up to change before the party.) So it was no trouble at all once I left the club to hail a taxi and head across town for an impromptu visit. The two of us had to talk.

For a lady of the evening, Daisy lived in a pretty nice spot. When I visited yesterday, I'd assumed it was a residence hotel, with its cheery brick facade and green awning over the shiny red door. Now I wondered if perhaps it was actually the Illinois equivalent to the Best Little Whorehouse. Could be either, I guessed, depending on whether Daisy was more of a takeout or delivery type of girl.

I immediately felt bad for making cracks about Louise's friend. Daisy had been nothing but sweet and supportive to me. Who was I to judge her lifestyle? There were only a few ways for a woman to make a living back in the 1920s. And it wasn't like she could have gone to college and become a doctor or something. Even secretarial school must have cost a few bucks. Bucks Daisy didn't have because she'd had to escape her abusive father when she was fourteen.

I paid the cabbie and walked into the building, wondering what I was getting myself into. The lobby was dark and quiet at this early morning hour. A few couches faced a dying fire, and a coffee table between them held the empty glasses and full ashtray remnants of a party the night before.

"Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in."

Startled, I whirled. A tiny Asian woman with a wrinkled face and gray streaks in her long black hair stood behind me, arms crossed over her breasts. She was wearing a silk bathrobe and didn't look at all pleased with my presence.

"Uh, hi," I said brightly. "Is Daisy here? Do you know?"

The woman's face darkened, and she set her lips into a pursing frown. "This is how you greet me, Louise Rolfe?" she said in an overly angry tone. "You think you can just waltz back in here after eight months and pretend like nothing happened? You think I'd forget?"

"Huh?" Oh, great. I'd evidently inadvertently walked right into some bees' nest. Did Louise used to live here or something? Maybe she'd skipped out on the rent when McGurn set her up with her new digs.

"I'm, uh, sorry," I stammered. "I'm just here to see Daisy."

"You're not seeing anyone, darling, until I get my money."

I sighed.
Thanks a lot, Louise.
As if things weren't difficult enough. Now I have to deal with your back rent.

I fished into my purse. "Uh, how much do I owe you?"

"You should know. You stole it from me in the first place."

Ugh. Louise, I'm so going to kill you, girl.

Well, technically I wouldn't, since murdering her wouldn't be so hot for me either. Maybe I'd just, uh, pig out later—have a big fat carb-fest or something. Make her gain a ton of weight. That way I could literally have my revenge and eat it, too.

"It was eight months ago, lady," I said. "Cut me some slack."

"Two hundred eleven dollars and eighty-three cents."

Great. I had like a buck fifty in my purse. I didn't suppose she'd take American Express either. Not that I had an Amex on me. And I certainly couldn't hit the ATM. What did people do before plastic?

"I, uh, don't have it now," I admitted. "But I promise to come back later this afternoon if I can just see Daisy for two seconds."

The woman smiled but not in a happy-go-lucky bunny rabbits and roses
sure I believe you and will catch you later
kind of way. More of a, say,
oh I've got an evil idea that you're going to hate and I'm going to love
type of smile if I had to describe it. And I was so not looking forward to finding out what that evil idea that I was going to hate and she was going to love was.

"Actually, since you're here, you can pay it back in trade," she said in a smug voice. "In a lucky coincidence, Mr. Brown is upstairs right now. And we all know you're a favorite of Mr. Brown's."

Oh.

My.

God.

I stared at her, horrified, realization smacking me across the face. And here I'd been judging Daisy for being a prostitute. Was I one as well?

Things fell into place. That's probably how Louise knew Daisy. And how a showgirl hooked up with a married mob boss. He was probably a former client who decided to go the rent-to-own route after sampling the wares.

Ew. I suddenly felt itchy. Dirty in Louise's skin. Thinking about where she'd been. What she'd done.

Ew, ew, ew.

I drew in a deep breath. Panicking wasn't going to help me. I needed to keep a calm head so I didn't end up in Mr. Brown's room.

"Actually, I've retired from the whole working-girl biz," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Got a full-time gig now as a girlfriend, you know. And I don't really think my old man will appreciate me sharing the goods with Mr. Brown."

The Madame, for I guess that's what she was, rolled her eyes, took deliberate steps over to the hotel reception counter, and reached under the bar.

Then she pulled out a shotgun.

And… This was going from bad to worse.

"You have three choices, dearie," she said in a calm, overly sweet voice. "You can pay me what you owe. You can go visit Mr. Brown. Or you can be shot from here to kingdom come." She raised the gun, pointing it at my heart. "It really doesn't make much difference to me."

I swallowed hard. The look in her eyes told me that she wasn't playing games. I could really get shot here. Game over.

I held out my hands. "Uh, wait," I begged in a trembling voice. "You don't want to do that. Really. I'll, um, go see…Mr. Brown. Or something. Please!"

She paused for what seemed an eternity. Maybe she had already decided shooting me would be her best option. That'd be my luck. I squeezed my eyes shut. I couldn't believe after all I'd been through that this was where it was going to end.

And then what would happen? Would I wake up as Dora? Or would I be buried in Louise's body? And what would happen to the future now that I'd so miserably, stupidly failed the past?

But just as I resigned myself to an unceremonious death in a Chicago bunny ranch, a voice prompted me to open my eyes and whirl around.

"How much does she owe you?"

Recognition and relief allowed me to let out the breath I was holding. The call-girl cavalry had arrived, just in the nick of time.

Daisy was still wearing the same outfit. Had she been out turning a breakfast trick while I was talking to McGurn?

"Daisy, thank God you're here," I said. "This woman was going to shoot me if I didn't pay her."

"Shut up, Louise," the flapper said curtly. She turned to the Madame. "How much does she owe you, Mrs. Grundy?"

The Madame lowered the gun, looking almost disappointed she wasn't going to get to shoot me. "Two hundred eleven dollars and eighty-three cents."

"Fine." Daisy fished in her purse and handed over a wad of bills. "There's two hundred twenty there at least. That should settle her account with interest."

Mrs. Grundy greedily took the money and started counting. Daisy rolled her eyes and grabbed me by the hand, leading me toward the stairs.

"Thank—," I started to say. She put a hand over my mouth and nodded her head in the upstairs direction.

We reached her apartment, and she unlocked the door and led me inside.

Her place was small and plain but cute and well taken care of. Not like what you'd expect in a flophouse. Like my apartment, it was a studio. A queen-sized bed with a wrought-iron headboard sat on one end, and a kitchenette lined the adjacent wall. A navy-blue upholstered couch faced a large radio.

I studied the bed for a moment, unable to help wondering what kind of acts had been performed on it, then berated myself for thinking such things. Daisy had just saved my life. I had to stop with the whole judgmental thing.

Daisy pulled a chair out from the kitchen table and offered it to me. "You okay?" she asked, studying me with concerned eyes.

I shrugged, sitting down at the table. "As well as can he expected, I guess, after nearly getting shot and killed."

Daisy laughed. "Yeah, well, you're the one who's off your trolley, Louise. I can't believe you showed your face here after what you did to her. She's got every right to shoot you."

I was dying to know what Louise did, but of course, I couldn't ask. "Well, thanks for coughing up the cash," I said instead. "I'll pay you back, of course."

"No problem, doll." Daisy smiled. "Anything for you." She turned to the kitchen. "I'll put on some tea."

"Thanks." I could definitely use the caffeine after my near-death experience. Of course, a Starbucks triple venti sugar-free vanilla nonfat latte would have done me better, but I'd take what I could get.

As she bustled in the kitchen area, filling the teapot with water and placing it on the stove, I pondered how I would explain what I needed her to do. What if she asked a lot of questions? I wouldn't be able to answer them. What if she got suspicious and went back to Machine Gun and told him what I'd told her? He'd think I was a traitor. That I had connections with the Northsiders and was actively trying to save Bugs Moran. That would not be good. I'd better hope Daisy and Louise were
really
good friends.

"So, Daisy…"

"One second." Daisy walked back to the table, two steaming mugs of tea in her hands. She handed one over and sat down across from me. She set her tea down and met my eyes. "Look, I know why you're here. And I'm sorry. I never thought you'd get up that early to catch me leaving."

Ah, she thought I was mad that she'd slept with my boyfriend. Well, I guess I should play mad. After all, it would seem more realistic. And I'd been mad earlier.

"Yeah. I was pretty shocked to learn my best friend was having sex with my boyfriend, if you must know."

"Yeah, but better it was me, right? You know he's going to hire some dame to suck his toes when you're not around. I mean, he's Machine Gun McGurn. So, better that it's your friend who won't try to take him from you than some other girl."

I didn't know what was worse. Her ridiculous logic or the fact that she'd basically just admitted to wrapping her mouth around his disgusting feet.

"I just wish you had told me."

"I would have. But I thought you'd probably kick him to the curb if I did. And he's good for you, Louise. He's got money. A lot of money."

"Money isn't everything."

"No? Well, maybe not, but it's certainly nice to have. You've never lived on the streets, Louise. You don't know what it's like to have no money."

My heart went out to the little flapper. She really was one of those stereotypical hookers you always saw in the movies. The ones with hearts of gold beneath their corsets.

"Maybe not, but I know that the trade you practice isn't going to support you for the long term. What are you going to do when you get older?"

"Shoot myself?" Daisy laughed hoarsely, in a way that made me wonder whether she was joking. "Blackmail one of my clients? Don't worry. I'll figure out something."

"Why don't you start now? Go to secretarial school or something. You've got some money saved, right?"

Daisy frowned. "You know that money's for California, Louise. For when you finally agree to leave this dump with me. I've saved enough for two train tickets to Hollywood, with enough left over to get an apartment for at least a month. And by then, we'll be movie stars."

My heart broke for her. Her outer shell said tough street chick. But inside, she was so naive. So innocent. She really thought it would be that easy. To show up in Hollywood and become a star. More likely she'd end up turning tricks for B-movie actors who would try to pay with bad checks.

"Look, I didn't come here to lecture you on your career choice," I said. "I came because I found out Machine Gun is going to ask you to do him a favor. And as your best friend, I'm asking you not to do it."

Daisy cocked her head. "A favor? What kind of favor?"

"He's going to ask you to go sleep with Bugs Moran, this North Side gangster."

"I know who Bugs is, Louise," Daisy said. "But why on earth would Machine Gun want me to sleep with him? I thought they were sworn enemies."

"I'm, uh, not sure," I lied. "Just, when he asks you, I want you to agree to do it, get him to think it's all set. Then, on the night you're supposed to go, check into a hotel or something. I'll pay."

"Uh, Okay," Daisy said hesitantly. She took a long sip of tea. "But why?"

I knew she was going to ask that. Ugh. What should I tell her? What possible reason could Louise have to not want her hooker friend to not turn a particular trick?

"Because, uh, he has, uh…the clap," I said, divine inspiration hitting at the last possible moment. "Nasty guy. You wouldn't want to catch that, now would you?"

"No. Of course not." Daisy still looked a bit puzzled. "But I still don't understand why Machine Gun wants me to sleep with Bugs at all. Is something going down I should know about? Does it have to do with Capone? I heard Al went down to Florida this week. Are they planning something I should know about?"

I shrugged. "You know Machine Gun. He never tells me the inside mob stuff. But I just wanted to make sure you were safe. That's all that matters to me."