Flirtinis with Flappers (24 page)

I didn't know what to say. What to do. Could Nick really be alive? Could he be incarcerated in a gangster's prison? This situation suddenly seemed too close to my own past experience for comfort. I flashed back to my days in the Iraqi prison. Bars. Cold. The agony I'd endured.

Was Nick being interrogated? Tortured? Would they hurt him? Kill him? My heart pounded in my chest as my head played out too many familiar scenarios.

I had to save him. Even if that meant risking my own life (as I now knew it did) to do so. I could feel the fear welling in my gut. But I couldn't let it win. I couldn't let it stop me from saving the man I loved.

"What do you propose I do?" I asked The Rat, squaring my shoulders and firming my resolve. I could do this. I knew I could. A new Dora had been born, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of Nick's building. I'd survived. And he would too. I'd make sure of that.

"Well, if McGurn's got him," Ratty said with another shrug, "you're going to have to go to McGurn."

Great. I was afraid he'd say that.

I changed out of my nasty, bloodstained, garbage-smelling clothes, washed myself thoroughly, then changed into the sexiest little number I could find: a short white skirt and matching lacy blouse made of some kind of light chiffon material. To winterize the outfit, I found a white stole—rabbit fur, chubby, with a big fuzzy button on the front. Then I carefully applied my makeup. Red-lined Clara Bow lips and big blackened eyes.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Unfortunately, there was no way to hide the ugly bruises dotting my arms. But besides that, I had to admit, I (aka, Louise) looked great. An angelic, porcelain doll of perfection.

Not that I was of the mind that McGurn would suddenly say, "Sure, babe, I forgive you for jumping into bed with one of my henchmen," and give Nick a Get Out of Jail Free card just because he dug my dress and kissable lips, but I figured making myself as attractive as possible couldn't hurt.

Of course, if Nick was already dead, then this was all for naught. But I refused to consider that possibility. I was on a rescue mission, and by sheer willpower, darn it all, I was going to succeed.

"How do I look?" I asked Ratty as I stepped out of the bathroom. He gave a low whistle.

"Sex-y," he exclaimed, swishing his tail back and forth. Was that supposed to be rodent flirtation or something?

"Thanks." I laughed. Once in a while, the tiny one wasn't half bad.

"Bet you wish you looked like that when you're in your own body," he added.

Then again…

"Whatever, dude," I said, shrugging on my coat. I refused to let him discourage me. I had a very important mission: to save the man I loved. "Anyway, I'm outta here."

"So what's your plan?"

I stopped. I'd been afraid he was going to ask that. "I don't have one," I admitted.

"What?" Ratty squeaked incredulously, his beady eyes flashing. "You're just planning to waltz into the club, demand to speak to McGurn, and convince him that Sam should go free?"

"Something like that."

"Wow. I guess I should kiss that keeping-you-alive bonus good-bye."

I sighed. "Well, what do
you
suggest?"

"I suggest…" The Rat said slowly, effectively drawing out the suspense. "I suggest that you come up with a good plan before you go down there."

I rolled my eyes. "You know, you're truly useless."

The Rat shrugged. "I've been called worse. Like, this one time—"

"Look," I interrupted. I'd just puked and didn't want another nausea-evoking story from him. "I appreciate your concern for your monetary gain, but I'm wasting valuable time here. Sam could be getting tortured right now. He's probably alone. Scared. Helpless."

"Like you were?" Ratty asked in a soft voice.

I stared at him. Every time I thought I had the little guy figured out, he'd suddenly surprise me.

"Look, Dora," the rodent said. "All joking aside here, I think what you're doing is very brave. Foolhardy and stupid, perhaps, but brave. Risking your life to save the man who may or may not have betrayed you in Iraq. That takes true courage."

How did he even know about Iraq? Had the FBI read my confidential file? Had they shared it with him? I hated the idea of this snide little creature knowing the details of my very private life story. My pain should not be his punch line.

"When you first came here, you were a scared little mouse without a clue. You'd run before standing up to a fight. Now you're willingly heading into the lion's den." The Rat crawled over and petted me on the foot with his little paw. Suddenly he seemed very Yoda-like, and I half expected a "do or do not, there is no try" or some other Lucas-ism to escape his lips. "I'm very proud of you, Dora."

"Uh, thanks.'' I ventured, still unsure how to react to this sudden soul-baring. I kept waiting for some derogatory crack. But none seemed forthcoming.

"Good luck," The Rat said, looking up at me with his twitchy face. "I know you can do it."

"You know what, Ratty?" I said as I reached for the door handle, ready to start my mission. "I think you might be right."

I arrived at McGurn's club a few minutes later, practically frozen to death. The weather had not become any balmier. In fact, I think it was colder than ever. I would have loved to make the suggestion for a Fourth of July Massacre next time around.

I entered the building, petrified, to say the least. What would they do when they saw me? Would they shoot me on sight? Did they think I was already dead?

No. They wouldn't. They needed me alive to be Machine Gun's alibi. To go to the hotel with him and fool the Untouchables into thinking he wasn't involved. It was way too late to recruit another girl for that gig, right?

"Louise!" Tommy greeted me at the door. His dim-witted face revealed his concern. Guess he wasn't the one throwing grenades earlier. "Where have you been? Jackie's been worried. He's sent out all the boys to look for you."

"Well, here I am, Tommy," I said, trying to act casual. My shaking hands and trembling voice kind of gave me away. "Can I go see him?"

"Of course. In fact, you don't got a choice. He gave orders that if you showed up I should bring you to him right away." Tommy glanced around the room. "Hey, Joey, can you mind the door? I gotta bring Louise to Jackie."

The hefty, tuxedoed Joey nodded and took his place at the door. Tommy motioned for me to follow.

Even though it was only afternoon, the club was packed with people, the party in full swing. Evidently that raid the other day wasn't slowing business. Women and men dressed in silk and satin sipped champagne and danced merrily to a rockin' jazz band on stage. As we weaved through the crowd toward the back door, a couple people grabbed at my sleeve.

"Hey, Louise—when you gonna do an encore of your act at Don's?' one asked.

"Yeah, Louise, you were terrif," added another. "We want to see you again."

"Just don't make love with any pianos this time."

I laughed and smiled and said all the appropriate things, but inside, my stomach was churning. This reminded me so much of when I was in Iraq. I'd watch TV from my hotel—my sister had bought me a DVD player and would mail me entertainment shows, news, and soaps on DVD. I'd sit and watch the programs and get furious. There was a war going on. People—American boys—were dying every day. And no one in the States seemed to care anything beyond whether Kim and Kanye's marriage was going to last or which celebrity was sleeping with their nanny now.

It was the same here in the twenties. The cities were corrupt, overrun by gangsters and bought public officials. Crime was rampant, murders were daily, and all anyone cared about was dancing and getting wasted. Reveling in the luxury they'd acquired. Spoils from a war that had resulted in over three hundred thousand casualties.

The man I loved was at best rotting in a jail cell and at worst dead from a grenade explosion. And no one here would have cared, even if they knew.

But I did. I cared. And there was nothing wrong with caring. Forget hedonism. Apathy. Living life for one's self. That just wasn't my style.

No, I was more the uptight, high-strung, save-the-world type of girl, and you know what? I was not about to apologize for it.

We reached the far end of the room, and Tommy unlocked the door that led to the offices. We climbed the stairs, and he rapped sharply on McGurn's door, paused a moment, then knocked two more times, almost as if tapping out some secret code. I drew in a deep breath. My pulse quickened. This was it. In a few seconds, I'd find out whether Sam was dead or alive. And, of course, more importantly, whether Nick was dead or alive. Two sides to the most important coin in my life.

"Come in!" Machine Gun's voice boomed from the other side of the door. Tommy gestured for me to enter.

"I've got to go down to my post," he apologized. "But you'll be okay, right?"

"Sure. No problem." I smiled.
Yeah, right.
I bet even Tommy didn't believe that one.

I entered the room, my hands shaking like crazy. My heart felt three times bigger than normal, pounding so hard it threatened to burst out of my chest cavity. But I concentrated on my shrink's breathing exercises and fought for control. I was stronger than my panic attacks, stronger than my fear.

McGurn's beady eyes fell upon me, and he rose from his chair, fists leaning against the desk. His face was beet red, and I could see the veins in his neck pulsating.

"Louise," he said in a tight voice.

"Hi, baby," I cooed. "What's going on? I heard you were looking for me."

"Louise, don't play coy with me. I know what you've been up to. I know you've been carousing with Sam. Sneaking behind my back and sleeping with one of my own men."

To his credit, he actually looked more hurt than angry. But what the heck? The guy had a wife and slept with prostitutes on the side. Who was he to lecture on the evils of infidelity?

"I don't know what you're talking about," I pouted, walking over to his desk and plopping my butt down on it. I knew the key was to be as casual as possible. "Who's Sam? That guy that works for you? The one who does all your dirty work? Why would I want to hang out with him? When you got the big cheese, you don't go after the crumbs, baby."

"Don't you lie to me, Louise," McGurn said, his voice rising with anger. "I had Tommy find you. He saw you with Sam, drinkin' and dancin' at some club down the road."

I shrugged. "I wouldn't doubt that I was dancin' at some club. You know me, baby. I love to dance. But I don't remember any of your guys at this supposed club. And I think I woulda remembered somethin' like that, don't you?' I reached over to chuck his chin, smiling sweetly. "You know my heart belongs to you, Jackie boy."

He frowned and pushed my hand away. "Tommy says he saw you. Do you know how embarrassin' it is for me to have one of my men say my girl is making a fool out of me? Carousing with some other guy just two days before the big plan? Two days before I need her to be my alibi?" He raised a fist and slammed it against his desk, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin.

This was not going as well as I'd hoped.

"Where is this Sam?" I asked, deciding to just go for it. "Maybe you can round him up and ask him if he was with me."

"I already did," McGurn said, looking pleased with himself. "Sent Jimmy and Tony over to get him. He's sitting down in the gin cellar right now. Waiting to be…
questioned."
He said the word with such poison that I was pretty convinced this questioning wouldn't be of the verbal kind.

But still, that meant Nick was alive! I wanted to dance. To sing. To cheer out loud and hug someone. Sam wasn't dead! Nick wasn't dead! There was still a chance we could all get out of this alive, go back to the twenty-first century, and somehow fall in love with one another again. Live happily ever after.

But this wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot. I restrained my joy. After all, first I had to convince this gangster that I was innocent.

"So what did he say when you questioned him?" I asked. "He didn't say he was with me, did he?"

"No. He denied it."

"And when your boys went to collect him, I wasn't there, was I?"

"Uh, no. They said you weren't."

I smiled. Thank God for stupid gangsters who preferred to blow up the joint before they could find out for sure if the boss's girl was actually present.

"So then, besides Tommy saying he saw me dancing with some fella at a bar, what evidence do you have to support the fact that I was cheating on you?" I asked. "It's all total conjecture." Wow. I was pretty convincing, if I did say so myself. If I got out of all of this mess and back to the twenty-first century, I should so take up law.

"What on earth does conjecture mean?" McGurn asked.

Then again, the guy I was working wasn't exactly a rocket scientist.

"The point is, baby, who you gonna believe?" I asked. "Your dumb-butt bouncer Tommy or your best girl?"

McGurn frowned, and again, I could practically see the brain cells trying to fire up in the big doofus's head. My logic was confusing the poor guy.

"But Tommy saw you. He saw you, Louise. And he ain't got no reason to lie about it. And you, my sweet," the gangster said, "have every reason in the world. Including your life."

I gulped. Could we ix-nay on the ife-threatening-lay, perhaps?

"I—"

McGurn reached into his desk and pulled out a pistol. I jumped back. Suddenly the game was being played for much higher stakes.

"Jackie, you don't want to—"

"Louise, I loved you. I loved you!" he cried, his face awash with rage. "And you go and cheat on me with some other fella. Did you suck on his toes, Louise? Did you suck on another guy's toes?"

I stared at him, too petrified to move. All the blood drained from my face. I knew all too well what a bullet felt like when it slammed into your thigh. I didn't want to know—couldn't even imagine—what the pain was like when it hit the heart.

"I—"

This was it. I was going to die. And if Ratty was right, if I died as Louise, there was no way to pop back to the twenty-first century as Dora. This was it.
Finito
. Sayonara. End of story.