Leo’s thumb stilled as he thought that over, and his grip on her hand loosened. His expression was carefully neutral as he asked, “Do you think I’m sweet?”
Vivian laughed. “I don’t know you too well, either. And if I did, I doubt sweet would be the word I’d choose to describe you.” But she didn’t pull her hand away as she said it.
Judging by his grin, he noticed. “Aren’t you going to ask what I think of you?”
“No.” Vivian smirked. “I think I can tell the answer to that one.”
He shook his head ruefully, running a hand through his hair. “You’re a pretty observant girl, Miss Vivian.”
“Right now, I’m a pretty tired girl,” she said, pulling her hand away at last. “And I’ve got a day of work still ahead after whatever Honor puts me through. But maybe I’ll see you around.”
He was smiling as she turned to catch up with Bea. “Count on it,” he said. She glanced over her shoulder, and he grinned before he lifted his hat and went to join Danny once more.
“They’ve moved to Baxter Street now, by the way,” she heard Danny say as they disappeared around the corner. “The old place you called is my uncle’s now—”
“Come on, Viv,” Bea said, a touch of impatience in her voice. “I’m beat, and I bet you are too. The sooner we talk to Honor, the sooner we can get home and get to sleep.”
“Home.” A slug of guilt hit Vivian in the stomach. “I can’t go to theNightingale yet, Bea, Florence has been waiting up all night. I have to go tell her I’m okay—”
“Cool it, okay? She already knows.” At Vivian’s suddenly horrified look, Bea rolled her eyes. “Not that you were in jail, of course. I left her a note that you were fine and would be back in the morning.”
“Oh.” Vivian sagged with relief. “I’m still gonna have a lot of explaining to do when I get back.”
“You and me both, girl.” Bea gave Vivian a sympathetic look as she took her arm and pulled her gently but relentlessly along. “So let’s get this done quick and not make it any worse than it has to be.”
TEN
The bouncer who opened the door in response to Bea’s knock gave her a nod of recognition and stepped aside, but he blocked Vivian’s way without a hint of emotion. “Wrong place, sweetheart,” he grunted.
“I’ll dance ’til last call,” Vivian said, wedging her foot against the door when he tried to close it. It was the normal password to get past the Nightingale’s back-alley door.
“Ms. Huxley’s expecting her,” Bea said, pulling Vivian in the building. “Let’s not keep the door open, okay?”
He grunted again and stepped out of their way. After he shut the door and locked it, he gave a tiny jerk of his chin that was all the indication they had to follow him.
The silent doorman led them straight across the dance floor and toward the back hall. He was clearly the kind of person who didn’t bother with small talk, and Bea didn’t seem bothered by his silence. Vivian didn’t mind. She was too busy looking around the club to chat.
There were no windows, and the furnishings were stark under theglare of electric lights that were never all turned on at once during business hours. Empty of people, with no musicians on the bandstand or bartenders slinging drinks, the whole space felt as if it were waiting to come to life.
“Don’t try to swipe anything,” the doorman said as they passed the bar, glancing over his shoulder at her. The suddenness of the gruff statement made her jump in a way that she hoped didn’t make her look guilty. “Mr. Chin does inventory every day.”
“Of course,” Vivian said, mostly because she felt like she was expected to say something. Bea snickered quietly. The doorman grunted and kept walking, but she felt like he was still watching her, even though he was facing forward again.
Vivian wondered how many people had seen the Nightingale after hours. Likely only the ones Honor invited. The thought made her smile, as if the Nightingale suddenly belonged to her, and she to it, in a way that it didn’t to most of the men and women who came there to dance and drink and escape their daylight lives.
The lights were all turned on in the back hall, too, and Vivian glanced at the door to the alley. In spite of the warm glow, she shivered, remembering the dead man there, the puddle of blood slowly spreading beneath him, her night in jail that somehow was because of him. That place, at least, still felt dangerous, still felt mysterious.
She didn’t have time to dwell on the thought as the doorman led them to the stairs. Pausing at the bottom, he gave one curt gesture upward. “Ms. Huxley’s waiting in her rooms. The door on the landing is unlocked.”
“If you knew we were coming, why all that fuss at the door, Silence?” Bea said, exasperated.
He shrugged, the ghost of a smile on his face, as he went back to his post.
“His name is Silence?” Vivian asked, once they were alone again.
“Silas, if you want to be accurate about it. But he barely talks, so the nickname sticks to him.” As she spoke, Bea led the way up the stairs.
“Glad it wasn’t just that he didn’t like me,” Vivian muttered.
