Leo instantly paused, understanding her signal immediately. His hands still clenched at his sides, he stood like a sentry, ready to be called into action should the need arise.
“You outflew the Reverend.” The oaf reached up and touched Mattie’s bob. “You cut your pretty hair, though. It’s a shame. Men like long locks.”
Dunderheaded, ossified bastard.
“Well, it is a good thing that I wasn’t trying to impress you, then,” Mattie said sweetly before she reached up and grabbed his wrist with her hand. She gave a little twist like her siblings had shown her, and the aviator’s eyes narrowed.
“Hey, I wasn’t doing any harm.” He started to reach for her again, but suddenly Vera materialized at Mattie’s side.
“Darling, I do believe my friend is being very clear that she is not interested in your rather clumsy pursuit.” Vera linked her elbow with Mattie’s.
“I don’t see how this conversation is any concern to you.” He crossed his arms, his muscles flexing underneath the black material.
Carrie also hooked her arm with Mattie’s in a show of solidarity. “Since she is our friend, it is more of our concern than it is yours.”
“Agreed.” Alice appeared on Carrie’s other side. Soon all the female members of their troupe were standing together, forming a linked chain. Crenshaw’s face turned a curious shade of purple. One of his hands balled into a fist. Mattie tensed her leg, readying to jam her knee into a certain vulnerable appendage if necessary. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leo move forward. Crenshaw’s knuckles started moving in a downward trajectory.
And then the music stopped. Crenshaw jerked back on his heels. When he gazed around the room with a stupefied expression on his handsome, chiseled mug, Mattie took the opportunity to do the same. But even as she turned her head, she still made sure to maintain her awareness of the buffoon’s position. The entire gathering had stopped to stare in unabashed interest. Since Mattie rather enjoyed the spotlight, she didn’t mind. After all, Vera had said any press tonight would be good press. But clearly Crenshaw didn’t appreciate the attention. He uncurled his fingers... slowly. Although he sent Mattie a rather menacing look, he didn’t move any closer. Instead he rolled his shoulders and made a great show of casually walking away.
Not about to allow the boozy bore to ruin her first speakeasy experience, Mattie swung their fierce chorus line in the direction of the table that Carrie, Sadie, and Aida had just vacated. “What do you say, girls? Should we sit down and listen to some fine singing?”
Several people began to clap, and then the whole room erupted into good cheer. When the noise settled slightly, Thelma Stanton once again commanded the room as she extended one silk-covered hand intheir direction. “What a lovely compliment! And I have just the song to thank you with.”
After sending a signal to her band, Thelma swiveled back to face the crowd once more. The lights above her head caught the net of fine beads covering her gold dress. The garment complemented the warm hue of her brown skin and sparkled almost as much as the legendary performer herself. Once more, Miss Stanton held the room in her thrall.
She began to sing low and deep about failed Casanovas and the headaches caused by unwanted male suitors. Soon the whole room was laughing, but no one louder than the group of young men near Crenshaw. Although Mattie took care not to stare in his direction, she did covertly keep watch. An unusual sliver of unease snaked through her when she noticed Benji Pringle was among Crenshaw’s cronies. The two men seemed to grow increasingly agitated, their hands making angry slashing movements. Their comrades’ expressions shifted from mirth to something darker.
“I have a feeling that trouble is about to drift our way.” Carrie spoke the words lightly, but all the women understood the seriousness of her observation.
“Drat,” Aida hissed. “He seems to have formed some sort of male pack—typical social behavior for characters of his ilk and Pringle’s. I wonder if Pringle didn’t put Crenshaw up to approaching Mattie in the first place. Maybe he was hoping to snap another embarrassing photo.”
“Perhaps we’d better leave.” Lily’s hand fluttered to her neck.
Vera tossed back her curls. “Oh, piffle. I have no intention of letting ill-mannered brutes chase me from my favorite club. Arrogant fools who think they have some claim over you just because you’re in the papers are the downside to fame. I’ve learned it’s best to ignore them.”
Mattie exchanged a look with Alice. Both of them had noticed Leo and John moving surreptitiously in their direction. For once, Vera’s boldness and wealth wouldn’t necessarily provide a buffer. Although thewomen might emerge unscathed, their two male companions could not defend against eight alcohol-soaked imbeciles.
“Lily is right.” Mattie began to rise, with Alice following her. The acrobat shifted her eyes meaningfully toward her husband and Leo, and finally Vera seemed to understand.
She sighed and placed her drink on the table with a resigned plop. “Men and their constant need to defend us. This is one of the main reasons I have no desire to marry.”
They had just begun to move toward the exit when Mattie felt a sharp yank on her elbow. She was spun rather roughly into the arms of Crenshaw. He leered at her. “I heard you ladybirds like a bit of adventure. I promise to show you one that’ll really send you soaring.”
He started to dip his head to kiss Mattie, but she was faster. She jammed her knee into his groin and then stabbed his instep with her heel. His eyes squeezed shut as he grabbed himself and tottered on one foot. Already unbalanced from liquor, he toppled into an undignified heap. Moaning and caterwauling like a lovesick bobcat, he rolled on the floor.
Mattie felt a strong arm on her back, and she started to stab with her elbow. Luckily, she realized just in time that it was Leo. He started to whisk her away from the scene, but before he could, one of Crenshaw’s friends charged them. Leo didn’t even raise his fist. He just tucked his body and let the man barrel into his bent form. This launched their attacker into the air. He landed with a rather dramatic crash on a nearby table filled with fedora-wearing men. Teacups crunched, and liquor flowed everywhere. Not pleased to have their drinks destroyed, the men jumped to their feet. One pulled the human projectile off the table and slugged him in the face.
Leo and John moved around Mattie and her friends, trying vainly to transform their bodies into a fortress. Mattie balled up her fists, getting ready to fight.
“Carrie Wilcox!” The calm, confident voice cut through the din the way only a professional vocalist could manage. At the sound of her friend’s name, Mattie swiveled to the stage. The legendary singer stood on the edge, beckoning Carrie’s group to join her. They moved without hesitation, Carrie leading and the men taking up the rear. The platform didn’t have any steps leading up to it, but that didn’t stop them from easily catapulting their bodies up the four-foot rise.
“This way.” Thelma pulled back the curtain leading to the backstage. Before anyone could notice their escape, they pounded over the floorboards and ducked behind the thick black velveteen fabric. To Mattie’s surprise, Thelma crouched down and lifted up a rug that had concealed a trapdoor. Yanking upward on the brass ring, she hefted open the hatch, revealing a steep set of steps that looked more like a ship’s ladder than stairs. She climbed down them backward, only pausing briefly to gesture for them to still follow.
The nine of them didn’t hesitate. One by one, they clambered down the surprisingly sturdy escape route. Leo went last, firmly pulling the wooden covering shut.
“There’s two bolts on the right and left side. Secure them,” Thelma instructed crisply as she stood at the base of the steps. Leo immediately complied. They were now situated under the stage. The floor was slightly sunken, but they still needed to duck. Once again, Thelma guided them. With their backs bent, they followed her through the wooden supports. Although the stage muffled the noise from the fight, it seemed as if the volume had only grown. Grunts, growls, and the sound of fists smashing against flesh echoed through the air. A few ladies screamed, but none of the cries seemed filled with pain. In fact, more than a few of the shrill shrieks had a downright theatrical quality to them.
Thelma slid back another piece of paneling. They crawled through the opening and emerged in a long hallway with no other apparent exit. A man, even bigger and broader than the bouncer guarding the door tothe speakeasy, stood at the other end. He started to slip his hand under the lapel of his dinner jacket, but when he saw Thelma, his white, pasty face split into a wide, welcoming grin.
