The surge of heat and noise as they walked into the dance hall put a stop to any further conversation. The trumpet was wailing, the band leader practically dancing on the stand, and the floor was a whirl of limbs and laughter.
Honor watched it all from her place by the bar, hands in the pockets of her trousers and her eyes glowing with satisfaction as she surveyed her club. She caught Vivian’s eye for a moment, then dropped her gaze to where Leo still held her hand. Vivian met her eyes defiantly, and a corner of Honor’s mouth lifted in a half smile before she gestured them toward the dance floor.
Leo had caught the silent exchange, and as he pulled Vivian toward him, one arm going around her back, he murmured, “I hope you’re not just using me to make her jealous.”
For a moment, Vivian felt a surge of guilt. But even if he was being honest about what brought him back to New York, she could guess that he was keeping other secrets. So what if she had a few of her own, too?
“I think Honor’s got enough on her mind without worrying about who I’m dancing with,” she said as Leo settled her still-bandaged left hand carefully on his shoulder. It didn’t hurt too badly at the moment, but she appreciated his care. “If I’m using you for anything, it’s those talented feet of yours. I love finding a fella who can keep up.”
He laughed. “Then I guess I’d better not disappoint you.”
He didn’t. Vivian still wasn’t sure whether trusting him was a good idea, but there was no reason not to enjoy the time they did have together. It was easier to relax into his arms now that she was starting to believe that he had nothing to do with Wilson’s death. And they danced as if they had been made to go together. Vivian was so caught up that she didn’t notice Bea trying to catch her eye until the music flourished to an end.
It took some finagling to detach herself from Leo, but he was enough of a gentleman that when she pointed out girls who looked like they would appreciate a partner, he couldn’t ignore them. Once he was gone, Vivian was able to make her way over to the corner of the room, where Bea was gathering glasses off a table that had recently emptied out. Dropping into one of the chairs, Vivian reached down to loosen the ribbons on her dancing shoes and wiggle her toes. “What is it?”
“I asked around with the other girls who work here, real careful of course, to see if any of them knew him,” Bea said, keeping her voice down as she continued to work.
Vivian sat up straighter.Wilson?she mouthed. Bea nodded, and Vivian bit her lip. “Any takers?”
“He wasn’t a regular here, but we knew that. Eliza thought he might’a been in here once or twice before. At least it sounds like the sameperson. Couldn’t exactly show them a photo. But then…” Bea gestured with her chin. “I think I heard one of them mention his name.”
Vivian turned slowly, glancing over the entire room so that the men at the table Bea indicated wouldn’t realize she was looking at them. There were four or five of them—she glanced away too quickly to be sure—all cheerful and loud and young. “Do you know which one it was?” she asked, keeping her voice low.
Bea shook her head, straightening and lifting her tray. “I was just walking past. I think they were making a toast.”
Vivian nodded, considering. If Leo was off the list, that meant she needed to find someone else to go on it. “Well, if one of them knew him, odds are the rest of them knew him too. Guess I’ll go ask Jimmy for a dance and see what I can get out of him.”
Bea paused, brows rising. “You know one of them?”
Vivian nodded, already reaching down to retie her ribbons. “Pretty Jimmy Allen, the one with the sandy hair. He’s here a lot. We’ve danced before. And he loves to gossip.”
“You get around, don’t you?”
Vivian glanced up and shrugged. “I like knowing folks. Wish me luck, will you?”
“Don’t get yourself killed.” Bea said it like a joke, but they both knew it wasn’t, not anymore.
Vivian took a deep breath and sauntered over to the table of laughing boys. “Hey, Jimmy.”
They all looked over at her, and Jimmy Allen beamed. “Vivian, pretty girl, it’s been an age! Want to have a drink with me and the fellas?” His friends bellowed their approval and gestured for Vivian to sit. But Jimmy grinned as the band struck up a friendly, bouncy foxtrot. “Never mind, I know you’d rather dance than drink. Let’s go shake a leg.”
Vivian took the hand he held out, then glanced over her shoulder at the remaining men, who were grumbling about men who kept pretty girls to themselves. “Feel free to buy me a drink later,” she suggested as Jimmy led her onto the floor.
Jimmy laughed as they settled into the dance, glancing briefly at the bandaged hand she settled on his shoulder. “You okay there?” he asked.
“Raid souvenir,” Vivian said, raising her brows and smiling mysteriously, as if the night had been an adventure and not a terrifying ordeal.
“Oh, you’re a jailbird now, are you?” he asked, holding her in a light and easy lead. “Gonna get too tough for a nice boy like me.”
“Nothing wrong with nice boys,” Vivian said, her voice friendly while her mind cast around for a way to introduce Wilson into the conversation without it being too obvious. “You missed it, then? I haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“Been out of the city for a little bit. You know how it is when the family needs a getaway.”
“Oh sure,” Vivian lied. “We missed you, though. All your pals have two left feet compared to you.”
“Those clodhoppers?” Jimmy grinned, glancing over his shoulder at the table he had just left behind. “They’re here for Ms. Huxley’s excellent booze. I’m here for the excuse to hold pretty girls in my arms.”
He winked, and Vivian laughed. Jimmy was one of the few men she’d danced with who had never made a pass at her, so his teasing didn’t bother her at all. But there was an opening there in his words, and she decided to take it, even if it felt a little forced.
