“Hello there, girlie.”
The voice, slick as spilled oil, made Vivian tense, even before she fully realized who it was. She met Leo’s eyes, trying to communicate a silent warning, before turning on her stool to face the man who had appeared next to her. “Hello, George.”
Bruiser George, a thin, weaselly man in a suit that wasn’t too expensive to get blood on, smirked at her. “Sorry if I startled you, girlie. I thought you’d be expecting me. Youwerethe one who sent that message, weren’t you?”
“I expected your boss,” Vivian said, eyes wide with false innocence. “I thought you’d want to steer clear of the Nightingale. You know, since the last time you were here you tried to knock Honor down a peg and almost got taken out in pieces.”
His eyes narrowed and his smirk grew a little forced, but he didn’t let it drop. “And here I thought we wanted to be friendly. Why don’t you be a good girl and order me a drink?”
Behind her, Vivian heard the creak of the barstool as Leo stood, and she could picture the cold expression that was likely coming overhis face. But she didn’t turn around to look. Instead, she gave Bruiser George a dismissive smile. “If your boss is here, I’ll talk to her, not to her errand boy. And somehow, I don’t think she’s paying you to booze it up at the bar. So, why are you here, George?”
His expression twisted, growing the sort of ugly that was scary on a man who liked using his fists. But a moment later he laughed. “Fair enough, girlie. She’s talking to your boss upstairs.”
Vivian frowned, not sure whether to believe him. “I didn’t see her come in.” And his boss—who ran a bootlegging empire that dabbled in all kinds of other unsavory business—was a hard woman to miss.
George shrugged. “She don’t use the front door. Came in through one of this place’s back entrances or tunnels or what have you. Anyway, I’m supposed to bring you up.” He stood. “You coming or not?”
“Vivian.” Leo’s voice was soft, but the worry and the warning were clear. She didn’t think he knew Bruiser George, but he clearly didn’t like the idea of her going anywhere with the man.
Vivian didn’t blame him. But she hated for anyone to know she was afraid, even when she was shaking in her dancing shoes. “You go on ahead, George. I’ll be up as soon as I finish my drink.” She lifted her glass of champagne in a mocking toast.
He gave her a head-to-toe look. “Suit yourself.” Scooping his hat off the bar, he tucked it under one arm and turned to go. But to her surprise he paused, his mouth pursing in a sour smile. “You know, we’re more alike than you want to think.”
“We’re nothing alike,” Vivian said, soft and cold. “I don’t make my cash by hurting people.”
He shrugged. “Maybe not, but we’re all just gears in their machine, right? Your boss, my boss… someone else is always calling the shots, and they sure as hell don’t tell us why. We just hop when we’re told and hope we don’t get arrested or worse because of it.” He smiled. “See you up there, girlie.”
Vivian didn’t look away until he had disappeared into the back hall,presumably to climb the stairs toward Honor’s office once more. She set the glass down on the bar without finishing it, her hands shaking.
“You know him?” Leo asked quietly.
Vivian was glad Leo couldn’t bring a gun out dancing. She wouldn’t have wanted to risk him pulling it on George. Not that Leo wasn’t equally dangerous bare-handed. She shivered again. “He works for Mrs. Wilson. You remember her?”
“Hard to forget,” Leo said grimly. “You shouldn’t follow him.”
“I was the one who asked her to come. That’s why I’m here tonight, to meet with her. Pretty rude not to show up.”
“Then I’ll come with you,” Leo said. She could see the tension in his shoulders as he eyed the doorway where George had disappeared. “Fella like that is too dangerous for you to go after alone. For all you know, he’s got friends up there, just waiting.”
“I’m not scared of him,” Vivian lied. The look Leo gave her said he knew it wasn’t true. She sighed, glancing at the dance floor full of couples, but she couldn’t spot her sister in the crowd. “I’m just going upstairs for a chat. Stay here, please? Keep an eye on Florence. If Danny ever gets back to doing his job, she’s going to need someone to keep her company for a little bit. And if anything ugly does happen—” She shivered at the thought, though she told herself there was no reason to worry. Honor wouldn’t have told her to come that night if it was dangerous. “—someone needs to make sure she’s safe. Okay? Please?”
His expression made it clear that he didn’t like it, but at last he nodded. “Okay. But if you’re not back in half an hour, I’m coming up, and I won’t care what sort of closed-door meeting I’m barging in on.”
“Fair enough.” She gave him a little pat on the cheek. “I’ll be fine. She’s just here to talk, and anyway, Honor’s got my back up there. She looks out for her people.” Vivian hopped off her barstool, smiling like nothing was wrong. “See you soon, pal.”
“Good luck up there.”
The door past the bar opened into a hallway where customers could find the ladies’ powder room or men’s dressing room. At the very end, a door opened into a narrow alley, a place where folks would go to cool off, catch a breath of air, or get a little frisky away from prying eyes. Before that, though, was a staircase leading up to Honor’s private office.
Vivian was halfway up the stairs when she slowed to a stop, suddenly wondering if she should have listened to Leo’s warning. She could see George standing a few steps below the landing where the door to Honor’s office was; a few steps below that, another man waited. He was built along different lines than George—tall, lean, slick-looking—but she could see the scars on his knuckles, and one across his cheek, even in the dim light. Another of Mrs. Wilson’s bruisers, then, and both of them staring at her. Vivian felt panic surge through her chest like a heart attack, and for a moment she was terrified of what might have happened to Honor behind that door.
But then George stepped up, knocking on the door smartly. “She’s here,” he called.
And it was Honor’s voice that called back. “Get out of her way, then, instead of skulking around trying to listen in.”
George scowled, clearly unhappy with both the order and the fact that someone other than his boss was giving it. But the expression was replaced a moment later by his usual oily smile. He gestured toward the door. “In you go, girlie.”
The stairs weren’t wide, and she hated having to pass so close to both men in order to reach the door. The back of her neck prickled with sweat when they were behind her. She paused on the landing, her fist raised to knock, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “I think you were supposed to be going?” she said, relieved that her voice wasn’t shaking.
