“Are you flirting? Shame on you. You’re too old to flirt.” Honoree grinned. She enjoyed jawing with Pete, the only person at Miss Hattie’s she’d likely miss. “Have you seen Trudy?”
“Not yet, but she always shows up.”
“Not always.” Honoree braced her elbows on the bar. “Make me a drink, Pete. Miss Dolly and the others are still downstairs.”
He grabbed a fifth of gin from the back shelf, filled a tumbler halfway, and then added honey and a dash of lemon juice. Pete’s cocktail was the only way Honoree stomached the taste of bootleg hooch.
“Here you go.”
“Thank you.” She lifted the glass to her lips, but Dewey suddenly shoved Pete aside and leaned forward, looming over her.
Pete grabbed the edge of the bar to keep from falling. “Watch yourself, you oaf.”
“Shut your trap, old man.” Dewey’s broad shoulders blocked Honoree’s view of everything but him. “I have a mind to string you up by the neck.”
Honoree reared back; he reeked of chewing tobacco, sour mash, and spit. “Do you mind? I was talking to Pete.”
“You always talking to that crazy old bastard.” Dewey hunched forward. “But I know what you been up to, Miss High-and-Mighty.”
She gulped a swallow. Was he talking about the Dreamland Cafe? “I don’t have any idea what you mean.”
“You may belong to my brother, but you’ll be sorry if you rat on me over a few crates of whiskey.”
The blood stopped in her veins. “I don’t belong to Archie! Where do people get such a notion?” She and Archie had been a thing for a while after he found her hiding in the trunk of his Model T, but that was a little more than two years ago.
“You tell him everything.”
“I don’t tell him anything.” She didn’t care what Dewey thought. The best news was he didn’t know about her audition. He was worrying her about something else.
The week before, she had arrived to work early, and Dewey was buying hooch from someone other than one of Capone’s bootleggers. It was the law in Bronzeville. Every juice joint in Chicago had to purchase hooch from Capone. Dewey cheating Capone was stupid. Dewey cheating Capone without Archie’s knowledge, however, was insane. Perhaps he should adopt the nickname Crazy Dewey. There was nothing smart about putting his big brother in Capone’s crosshairs.
“Did you tell Archie about my business?” Dewey slammed his fist on the bar top. “Is that why he canceled his poker game—to keep an eye on me?”
“Archie and I talk about policy dream books and dancing. I don’t talk to him about you.”
“Don’t lie. You saw me, but Capone is stealing Archie blind.” He paused, his Adam’s apple protruding. “I want you to tell Archie he’s being robbed, and I’m helping him get his due. He’ll listen to you.”
“I’m not telling him anything, but you should,” Honoree said. “If he finds out you purchased hooch from Bronzeville bootleggers, he’ll light your behind on fire. And he should. He can’t afford to make an enemy of Capone, and you can’t afford to make an enemy of your brother. So, close it down, Dewey. End it before Archie finds out and you get hurt.”
Dewey’s throat bulged. His face darkened with rage, and she swore smoke rose from the top of his head. He shot forward, threatening to grab her by the throat, but something or someone, Crazy Pete, had driven his shoulder into Dewey’s side.
“Stop haranguing the child, boy.” Pete waved a towel in Dewey’s face, shooing him away. “We got customers to tend to.”
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing, old man?” Dewey stared at Pete with murder in his eyes.
Wide-eyed, Honoree waited for the explosion, but a group of rowdy boys from the slaughterhouse shouted for drinks.
“All right, then,” Dewey said, breathing through his nostrils. “I’ll bide my time, missy. I’ll bide my time.” He gave Crazy Pete and Honoree an ugly glare, then stalked over to the slaughterhouse boys.
Pete winced. “What’s he mean by that? Biding his time?”
Honoree lifted her glass, but her fingers, her hands, her arms trembled. She placed the drink on the bar. “I don’t care what Dewey’s babbling about. He talks more nonsense than a cuckoo bird.”
Pete frowned. “You best be careful of him. He’s been acting strange lately, like a mad dog up to something.”
She smiled. “That’s why they call you Crazy Pete. Mixing it up with Dewey is dangerous.”
“Never mind me. I told you, he ain’t right in the head—you best be careful, Honoree.”
