Both men gave her a hasty glance but immediately resumed glaring at each other.
“This is not your business, Honoree,” Ezekiel said, without taking his eyes off Dewey.
She stepped in next to Ezekiel, speaking loud enough for Dewey to hear. “If you two fight, the police will have to break it up, and then the coppers will close this place down. And if either one of you happens to have some betting slips in your hip pocket, no matter how many coppers Archie has paid off this week, you’ll still end up in jail.”
“Stop running your mouth, Honoree,” Dewey’s voice blasted. “This ain’t about you. This is men’s business.”
The muscles in his arm flexed as he leaned forward. He must be thinking about pointing that gun at Ezekiel.
“Nothing but a surefire stint in the hoosegow for ninety days,” she exclaimed, wanting to keep his attention. “Unless someone bails you out.”
“Pipe down, Honoree,” Dewey barked.
“Don’t talk to her like that.” Ezekiel grew even taller as he pressed against the bar. “You talk to me.”
“I already told you what I had to say to you,” Dewey growled.
“You’re a cheap hood pretending to be a big man, and you haven’t said anything that would make me think any different.”
If only Ezekiel would keep his mouth shut and stop taunting Dewey. “I need to talk to you, Ezekiel, about Mr. Buttons.”
“Not now, Honoree. Not until I finish this conversation.”
“We can end this conversation fast,” Dewey said, one of his hands moving out of sight.
Honoree pushed Ezekiel in the shoulder. “Both of you hush.”
“I warned you,” Ezekiel said between gritted teeth. “If your brother learns about your bootlegging concern, he’ll kill you before Capone has a chance to do it.”
Dewey surged forward. “You can’t tell me what to do.”
“Mark my word, Dewey. If you don’t stop, Archie will beat you half to death.” Then Ezekiel laughed. “But you’re such a fool, you’ll just keep spouting off to anyone who will listen about how you’re saving your brother’s ass.”
“Why are you acting all high and mighty? You just showed up here, and, all of a sudden, you’re in charge.” Dewey’s arm moved, and Honoree angled her body between Ezekiel and Dewey and the Colt.
“Ezekiel, we are leaving now.”
There was a confused expression on his face when he looked down at her. Something dire had formed without warning, landing in his path without reason. He wrapped a large hand around her forearm, attempting to move her out of his way, but she shoved him in the chest. “Ezekiel, you’ve got to come with me. Right now. Please.”
The muscles in his face tightened into sharp edges and deep hollows, and he might explode if she said another word, but that would be better than seeing him get shot.
She lowered her voice. “We can go wherever you want to go, but we need to leave.”
“Oh, so you gonna hide behind a girl’s skirt, huh?” Dewey spat on the floor.
“If you go near my brother with your bullshit again, I will kill you, Dewey.”
Ezekiel’s voice chilled her soul. But, dear Lord, this had something to do with one of Ezekiel’s brothers. Tempers could go haywire at any moment. She grabbed Ezekiel’s arm again. “Let’s go.”
* * *
The street was busy, full of laborers hauling milk and ice and laundry, paperboys heralding the evening news, and automobiles bumping over concrete and cobblestones. Gamblers, musicians, and flappers strolled alongside stockyard workers, depot janitors, and house servants, all rushing toward whatever backbreaking chore defined them.
Honoree and Ezekiel walked in silence.
With his hands shoved into his pockets and his eyes black with rage, he couldn’t be trusted. If she loosened her grip, Ezekiel would bolt back to Miss Hattie’s to dismember Dewey with his bare hands. Pistol or no pistol.
Honoree hooked her arm around his forearm, tightening her grip while smiling friendly-like as they passed people on the street. A sweet-looking couple on a Wednesday afternoon—that’s how they appeared to those who noticed, she imagined.
