Page 19 of Romancing the Rumrunner
“Password.”
“Swordfish.”
The window slammed shut and the door opened, just enough to let her through.
“You Miss Harlan?”
“Yes.”
The stocky bald man nodded, jerking his head in the direction of a dimly lit hallway behind him. “The boss is waiting for you. You know where his office is?”
Jessie nodded and he waved her on. The butterflies rioting in her stomach grew more chaotic the closer she got to Tony’s closed door. What was she doing? Maude was right. She was insane. Not only was she lying about who she was, a fact that could land her in a world of hurt if Tony found out, (if he was as ruthless as most of the other speakeasy owners), but to gain access to his club, she’d agreed to show up andsing. In front of people.
She loved to sing. She really did. She’d belt out any tune—from old church hymns to the hottest nightclub tunes—but only from the safety of her own bathroom. Someplace where no one else could see or hear her.
Though…it had felt great to be on the stage. With the whole band behind her the notes of the music had beat through her, filling her very soul. All she had done was open her mouth and she had been a part of it. She’d almost forgotten about the people who were there, watching her. Almost.
Jessie came to Tony’s door and paused, taking a deep breath before she knocked.
“Come in.”
Jessie squared her shoulders, popped her chin up a notch, and marched into the office.
Tony looked up, the scowl on his face easing into a grin when he saw her. His pleasure at the sight of her ratcheted her nerves up another notch, but for an entirely different reason. Tony put down the papers he’d been going over and leaned back in his chair.
“Well, Miss Harlan. I’ll admit I wasn’t sure if you’d show up tonight.”
Jessie cocked her head, her brow furrowing. “And why is that?”
Tony shrugged. “You seemed a little…apprehensive.”
“That was just nerves. I’m not used to singing in front of people.”
“You do realize that that is exactly what this job entails?”
Jessie’s lips twitched. “Yes, Mr. Solomon. I’m aware of that.”
“Good,” Tony said, slapping his hands on his desk as he stood. “Well then, I’ll show you around. You didn’t quite get the grand tour last time.” He slipped an arm around her waist and Jessie stiffened.
“Isn’t there someone else who can do that?”
Tony glanced down at her, his eyebrows raised, though there was a slight smile on his full lips.
Jessie blushed. She hadn’t meant to say that, and it sounded unforgivably rude. Especially since the man was now her boss. But still…the arm at her waist tightened, making the heat in her cheeks burn even more intensely. Spending time in this man’s presence, especially when he insisted on invading her personal space, made her nerves jangle worse than getting up and performing again.
“I only meant I’m sure that you have more important things to do than to squire me around.”
“Not at all. I like to make sure my employees are settled in. Besides, I also need to make sure you’ve got everything you need. You are our main entertainment, doll. If you do well, you could make my joint the most popular in the city. That’s worth a few minutes of my time.”
Jessie stopped protesting and allowed Tony to lead her down the hallway into a small room that had apparently been designated as a dressing room. Though, as dressing rooms went, it was pretty bare. A rumpled velvet sofa sat against one wall, and a Chinese silk screen portioned off the back of the room, with a small rack of brightly colored dresses along the wall next to it. On her right was a vanity table with a few cosmetics strewn about, and a full-length mirror stood beside that.
Tony looked around, his lips pulling into a frown. “I’m afraid our last singer didn’t leave much behind when she left. But if you let me know what you need, I’ll make sure you have it.”
“No worries. I’ve brought my own cosmetics.”
Tony nodded and waved at the dresses on the rack. “Why don’t you go through what’s left there and see if anything will work for you.”
Jessie deposited her bag on the vanity and draped her dress over the back of the chair. She flipped through the rack of dresses with a growing sense of disappointment. Tony had been right about the last singer not leaving much. Of the four dresses that were left, only one was in relatively decent shape (and by that she meant hole-less and stain-less).
