“Absolutely.”
“Wait up, girls.”
They both turned, startled to find the bartender had put down his broom and followed them to the door. “I’m not supposed to let you go home alone this morning. Honor’s orders.”
“Why?” Vivian demanded.
“Chivalry ain’t all the way dead. And she’s paying, so no need to fuss,” he said cheerfully before turning to the hulking doorman. “Silence, can you call us a cab?”
“She doesn’t like her staff coming and going on foot after a raid,” Bea explained quietly as they followed the men up to the street level. “Didn’t know if that would apply this morning. But it’s safer if you can’t be followed as easy.”
It made sense, though Vivian wondered if Honor would have been so generous if she had known Vivian would refuse to play her games. But she didn’t say anything. A free cab ride was nothing to turn up her nose at. And the sooner she got home to Florence, the better.
The cabdriver who eventually pulled over in response to Silence’s wave eyed them with quickly concealed surprise. “Where to, boss?” he asked pleasantly, hiding a quick yawn. He was a young Black man, dark circles of exhaustion bruising the skin beneath his eyes. Vivian wondered if he’d been taking fares all night.
“Well, that’s a good question,” the bartender said as the driver got out to open the door for them. “Where to, girls?”
“Not far,” Bea said, opening the door on her side. She paused as the driver, returning to his own door, put a hand on her arm and asked her something in a low voice.
Vivian paused, eyeing them warily to make sure Bea was okay. But Bea only smiled and reached out to pat the driver’s cheek. “Right as rain,” she said, without a trace of her normal laughter. “They’re friends. But you’re a sweet fella to check.”
As Bea slid into the seat and closed the door, Vivian leaned over. “Do you know him?”
Bea shook her head. “We’re an odd-looking group to be climbing into a cab together,” she pointed out, her voice quiet. “He wanted to make sure I was okay, is all.” She raised her voice to address the driver. “Ninth below Thirty-Fourth, please.”
Vivian was quiet as they drove, watching the early-morning bustle out the window. The bartender’s presence put a damper on any urge she might have had to admit what had actually happened upstairs, and the nervous energy that had kept her going after Bea bailed her out was fading, leaving her drained and exhausted in its wake. But more than that, she couldn’t stop wondering who exactly had ended up in the Nightingale’s alley. If the person behind the raids was trying to flush out his killer… what did that mean for the Nightingale?
Forget you saw anything.
It had nothing to do with her. There were only a few people who knew she and Bea had been the ones to find him. And now, more than ever, she was determined to keep it that way.
She was yawning by the time the cab slid to a halt in front of her building. Bea, by contrast, looked energetic as ever as she thanked the driver and slid out on her side of the car. Vivian eyed her friend’s perky steps grumpily as she nudged the bartender’s shoulder. “Hop up, will you? You’re blocking the door.”
He looked surprised to see them both getting out. “You can live in the same building?” He opened the door, then remembered the driver. “I’m not getting out here, so I’ll pay for all of us at my stop,” he said as he climbed out.
Vivian covered another yawn as she slid across the seat and stumbled out of the cab. “Different buildings. It’s a mixed little corner of the city.”
“At least for now. Neighborhood’s changing pretty quick these days,” Bea added, overhearing the last comment. She bent down to grin through the driver’s window. “Take care of yourself.”
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” the driver said as she straightened.
Vivian couldn’t see his face from where she stood, but she shook her head at the hopeful sound of his voice and, catching Bea’s eye over the roof of the cab, raised her eyebrows meaningfully.
Bea laughed. “You never know,” she said in response to the driver. Waving to the bartender, she added, “Thanks for the ride. My little puppies are always barking after that walk.”
“Do you want me to walk home with you?” Vivian asked, trying not to glance at the fifth-floor window where she knew Florence would be waiting for her.
“Nah.” Bea shook her head. “Get yourself home before that sister of yours calls the cops.” She laughed again at the face Vivian made. “I know, I know. Even Florence wouldn’t take that risk. See you soon.”
As she climbed the stairs, Vivian thanked whatever luck meant that she didn’t encounter any of her neighbors. There was no way any of them would have let her early-morning, scantily dressed arrival slide without half a dozen questions that she didn’t want to answer. Taking a deep breath, she opened her own door.
Florence was waiting at the table, fully dressed, a cup of coffee in front of her next to a small, limp pile of cash. Her face was expressionless, pale except for two spots of bright red color high on her cheekbones. Florence was furious.
But when she saw Vivian, she sagged with relief. “You’re back,” she said quietly. “Guess I won’t need to start searching jails, then.”
“Didn’t you get Bea’s note?” Vivian swallowed, hating that somehow, Florence could always guess exactly what kind of trouble her little sister was in. “You thought I was in jail?”
“I got Bea’s note. But you never stay out this late. I knew you were in trouble. I didn’t want to think what other kind it might be.” There was a bite to Florence’s words. But then she sighed, and when she spoke again, the heat was gone from her voice. She rubbed her back as she stood. “I didn’t have a plan to find you, though. Just walk from jail to jail, I guess. Glad I didn’t need to.”
