A GOOD TIME
Herbie Allen, the creep, had followed Theta out of rehearsal and was droning on about a “peppy” new tune he’d written: “I don’t mean to brag, but folks who’ve heard it have said it’s the best doggone tune they’ve ever heard and that it’s going to make me a millionaire!”
“That a fact?” Theta said without interest.
“That’s what they say.” Herbie winked and put his hand on Theta’s back.
Roy came roaring out of nowhere. He grabbed Herbie by the lapels and shoved him hard against the brick wall. “Whaddaya think you’re doin’ with my gal?”
“Gee, I-I didn’t mean anything by it. No harm, old boy,” a terrified Herbie said, and even though he was a creep, Theta didn’t want this.
Roy sneered. “Call me old boy again and see what it gets ya.”
“Roy. Roy, please,” Theta begged.
Roy let go of Herbie, who scurried into the crowds on Forty-second Street without even a backward glance to see if Theta was all right.
“Roy. I work here,” Theta pleaded.
“Yeah,” Roy said, brushing down his sleeves and righting his jacket. “And I wanna know when I get to meet the big cheese, Ziegfeld. We made a deal.”
“And I’m working on it.”
“Now.”
“He’s not even here, Roy. That’s what I was tryin’ to tell ya. He’s got a show in New Haven. He’ll be back in a few days, and I promise I’ll get you in first thing,” Theta said, heart hammering.
Roy turned soft, his big brown eyes like a doe’s. “I miss ya, Betty Sue. Miss you like a goddamn ache in my guts.”
It was how he used to pull her back to him after a beating. He’d cry and say he was sorry and that he’d never do it again. Then he’d tell her how beautiful she was, how he couldn’t live without her, and Theta would give in. Worse, she’d think it was her fault somehow. A piece of that old wiring sparked inside Theta for a minute: Look how much he loves me. But she wasn’t that girl anymore. She’d had a life outside of Roy, her own life, with friends and the Follies—and Memphis. If it hadn’t been for Memphis and how good he was to her, she might think what Roy was giving her really was love. She knew better now.
“I’m gonna take you out like a queen. You like that, huh? I got money. Show you a good time. Steak. Dancing. The works! I want everybody to see us together. Want everybody to know you’re my girl.” There on the street in front of everyone, he kissed her. And she remembered that Roy didn’t love; he claimed.
Embarrassed, Theta pulled away. “Okay, Roy. Sure. Sounds good.”
“I’ll pick you up at eight,” Roy said, squaring his fedora on his head.
“Tonight?”
“Tonight,” Roy said.
That night, Roy picked Theta up for their date in a fancy new Studebaker.
“A loaner from Dutch,” Roy crowed. “This is just the beginning.”
He pinned a corsage to her dress and kissed her, and Theta nearly vomited.
“Where we going?” she asked.
“The Hotsy Totsy!”
Theta felt faint. “Oh. You sure you wanna go there?”
“Whaddaya mean? I hear it’s the place to be! Dutch has his eye on it. He wants a report from me.”
“Dutch wants to take over the Hotsy Totsy? But doesn’t Papa Charles run that club?” Theta said, worried.
“Not for long.” Roy gave her a sidelong glance. “Say, how do you know Papa Charles?”
“Oh. I just… I heard. He’s real popular up there. Gets written up in the papers.”
“You get up to Harlem a lot?”
“Here and there.”
“Here and there,” Roy sneered. He stared at her. “Why do I got the idea there’s something you ain’t on the level about, Theta? You wouldn’t lie to me, would ya? You know I don’t like lies.”
“I know, Roy. It’s swell you taking me out like this.” Theta forced herself to smile. She didn’t want to rile him up. But silently, she prayed: Please, please don’t let us run into Memphis.
When they arrived at the Hotsy Totsy, Theta was a mess. All it would take was one slip from the people she knew there, and Roy would know the truth about Memphis. She’d worn two pairs of gloves in case her hands got the idea to act up, but around Roy, she was usually too frightened to make even a spark. The waiter placed a new table right up front for them, close to the action, and for once, Theta wished she could fade into the background. When she saw Alma coming toward her, all smiles, Theta froze.
“Say, Theta! Don’t you look a picture,” Alma cooed. “Memphis is ’round back. I could—”
Theta cut her off. “Alma! I don’t believe you’ve met my husband. Roy Stoughton.”
“Your… husband?”
Theta nodded. She hoped Alma could read the warning in her eyes.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Stoughton,” Alma said coolly, extending her hand.
“Can you get us a drink, honey? We’re thirsty here,” Roy barked.
“I’ll send a waiter.” Alma shot Theta a withering glance, and Theta wished she could crawl under the table and never come back.
And then, in the wings, she saw Memphis. Just the sight of him, leaning against the wall, his notebook under his arm, made Theta’s heart beat faster. They were supposed to get married and move to Hollywood. Now they were worlds apart. Memphis hated her. And she had been blackmailed into being with Roy. It was like being stuck in a living nightmare that not even Henry and Ling could free her from.
“Seems like you been up here a lot. Enough to make friends,” Roy said.
“You know how it is. Show business. The dancers all know each other,” Theta said, hoping he’d buy the fib.
One of Dutch Schultz’s men took a seat at their table. He bent low and whispered in Roy’s ear. “Boss needs you to help with a problem. He thinks he knows who’s doing the healing for the competition. Fella who works for Papa Charles. His name is Memphis Campbell. He wants you to take care of him.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
Theta listened in terror. She had to keep Roy here. She had to warn Memphis. “I gotta powder my nose. ’Scuse me, gentlemen.”
On shaking legs, Theta pushed through the crowd. But when she got backstage, Memphis wasn’t there. She went back into the club. Their table was empty.
“No, no,” she said.
Alma was just coming offstage. “Alma! You seen Memphis?”
Alma appraised her coolly. “Who wants to know, Mrs. Stoughton?”
“It’s too long a story to tell now, but I ain’t happy about being Mrs. Stoughton, believe me. And I think Memphis is in trouble. Big trouble. My husband works for Dutch.”
Alma’s eyes widened. “He’s been going out back to write sometimes.”
“Thanks!” Theta said, and ran out of the club. When she got to the alley behind the club, she put a hand to her mouth. Roy and two of Dutch’s men surrounded Memphis. Three against one.
“We shoulda taken you out when we had the chance. You gonna start healing for us, Diviner. Or we’re gonna end you right now,” Roy was saying. “And if some crazy bird comes around, we’ll shoot it, too.”
“Roy! Don’t!” Theta screamed. She ran and put herself between Roy and Memphis.
“Theta?” Memphis said. He already had a bloody lip and a swollen cheek. “What’re you doing? Get out of here.”
Roy looked from Theta to Memphis, the realization taking root. “I’ll be damned. I mighta known. Mighta known you was lying this whole time.”
Dutch’s men cackled with glee. “Aww, Roy. You got yourself a situation.”
Roy’s eyes were murderous. “Get over here, Betty.”
Floating. Up to the ceiling. Not here. Theta couldn’t float away this time. Not with Memphis in danger.
Theta shook her head. “No.”
“I said, get over here!” Roy yanked Theta by the hair, dragging her away from Memphis.
“Leave her alone!” Memphis said,
grabbing hold of Roy by his jacket sleeve.
“I’ll kill you right here,” Roy said. He took a swing, catching Memphis just above the ear. Memphis winced. His ear still ringing, he fell back and dropped into a boxer’s stance.
The fire bristled inside Theta, aching to come out. She worked to get her glove off.
“I don’t think so, Betty.” Roy wrenched her arms behind her back, and the fire retreated again as Theta cried out in pain. “Come at me again and I’ll break her arms.”
Memphis put up his hands. “Okay. Okay. Don’t hurt her.”
“This who you been whoring around with, Betty?”
“I…”
“Huh?” Roy gave Theta’s arms a sharp pull. Her eyes filled with tears.
“I love…”
“What?”
“I love him! I love… him.”
“Theta?” Memphis said softly.
“I was trying to protect you,” she said.
Roy shoved Theta back. He pushed up his sleeves on his march toward Memphis. “I’m gonna beat you to a pulp. Then it’s your turn, Betty.”
“Leave ’em be,” Bill Johnson thundered, coming into the alley. Memphis almost didn’t recognize him at first. He looked to be a man easily ten years younger, with a full beard and very little gray left in his hair.
“You gonna take on all of us?” Roy challenged.
“Won’t need to.” Bill took a step forward. He was a big man, and his shadow fell across the men like a giant’s. “Said: Let ’em go.”
“Or what?”
Bill reached down and grabbed Theta’s corsage, which had fallen to the street. He squeezed, and the flowers browned and wilted. He tossed the corsage away.
“Let ’em go,” Bill said again.
Roy backed away. “Come on, Betty Sue. We’re leaving. Now!”
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Memphis said. He stepped between Roy and Theta, but Theta slipped around and stood next to Memphis, side by side.
Roy’s carefully polished hair had gotten mussed up. His collar was sprung, and Theta knew he’d be really sore about that tuxedo. He tugged down his vest and pointed a finger at Theta and Memphis. “You’ll pay for this. Mark my words. Fucking circus freaks! They oughta lock you all up. They oughta put you in the chair and watch you fry!”
“Come on, Roy. She ain’t worth it,” Dutch’s man said. He patted Roy’s back and guided him toward the waiting car.
In the alley, Theta rubbed the ache from her injured arms and wiped her nose on the back of her glove.
“I’m sorry for everything I said to you after that night at the asylum. For pushing you away. I didn’t want him to know about you and Isaiah. I was afraid he’d hurt you. I know what kinda man he is, and I couldn’t let that happen. That’s why I broke it off with you, Poet. That’s the only reason. I had to make you hate me. I knew you’d come after me. I knew you’d try to make it right.”
Memphis kissed Theta. He wrapped his arms around her and it was like coming home after a hard day in the cold. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she kept saying into his chest.
“Shhh, shhh,” Memphis said.
“Well. Glad you’re all right,” Bill said, and started away.
“Mr. Johnson!” Memphis called.
Bill stopped and turned to him. “Bill.”
“Bill. Thank you.”
Bill nodded. “Least I could do. Got some sins to work off.”
Memphis and Theta were kissing again, blind to everything around them.
“Come on,” Memphis said.
Memphis broke into the lighthouse, and he and Theta lay on the blanket they’d kept there for months. Theta had never tasted a kiss so sweet as the ones she shared now with Memphis. Suddenly, she pulled away. “What if I hurt you?”
Memphis grinned. “It’s a nice way to go.”
“I’m serious, Poet.”
“You won’t. I don’t think you can.” He held up his hands. “Healer.”
Memphis kissed Theta, and she kissed him back. His hands pressed against her back just where she wanted them. And the only warmth she felt was the pull of her desire for him. They lay on the floor of the lighthouse. The lighthouse’s shining orb gentled its beam across the sleeping river. As Memphis moved on top of her, Theta kept her eyes on his beautiful face, lost in shadow, then bathed in light, his joy so bright to see. She felt a new fire this time, one that raced through her body with pleasure.
She rested her spine against the soft skin of Memphis’s chest. He draped an arm across her, and the two of them lay pressed together like spoons in a cozy drawer.
“Roy will come for us, you know. He won’t stop,” Theta said quietly.
Memphis kissed the tender spot beneath her ear. “We’ll fight back.”
And Theta let herself be lulled by the idea that maybe, just maybe, they could win.
THE SECRET SIX
In the back of a borrowed dairy truck, Mabel shivered under a blanket and stared up at the moon. It was fat and beautiful, but that didn’t help them much tonight, when the Secret Six needed to stay hidden. Arthur cut the truck’s headlights and parked near the river. The Secret Six scrambled out and gathered behind the shelter of an eastern hemlock. In the distance, Mabel could see the miners’ tents like a dotting of flowers in the field. Arthur climbed up the tree to scout with his binoculars.
“The militiamen are off getting drunk on cheap moonshine just like the miners said they usually do about this time of night.” He climbed back down and brushed the needles from his peacoat. “We have to act before they get back. There are only two guards right now, both positioned by the front gate. Gloria, you’ll draw them out to the field so we can sneak in.”
“Got it,” Gloria said, rolling her stockings down below her knees like a true flapper.
“Once you do, Mabel and I will set the bomb at the mine while Luis and Aron set the explosives by the company store. That explosion should draw their attention and give us cover to run straight back to the truck,” Arthur said, handing everyone gray fishermen’s sweaters and wool caps to help them blend into the night. Behind the tree was an old Dodge they’d hidden the day before. Arthur lifted the hood and tampered with some wires. “That oughta do the trick,” he said, closing the hood and wiping his hands. “You ready, Gloria?”
“And how,” she said, sliding into the driver’s side. The men pushed the car out of the trees and onto the slope of the road. The engine chugged to life, sounding like a sick cow. Gloria stuck her hand out the window in a quick little wave.
“Let’s go,” Arthur said, leading the others the long way around, away from the tent city where the patrolling guards were. The sudden bark of a dog made Mabel jump.
“You jake?” Arthur whispered.
Mabel tried to make sense of all the feelings whirring inside her. One part of her was terrified. The other part felt electric, ready to burn. They were going to blow up the mine. She was breaking the law. That was wrong. But so was Jake Marlowe’s treatment of his workers. Those militiamen shooting up the camp and frightening the miners, that was wrong, and nobody was doing anything about it. So maybe what they were doing was right? It was all topsy-turvy.
“Mabel?” Arthur placed a hand gently on her arm.
Mabel looked out at the campfires of the tent city, and she reminded herself that this was what they were fighting for.
“I’m jake,” she said, and hunkered down behind a tall rise of dirt to keep watch through her binoculars. Gloria drove the hobbled car through the field in an erratic line, making a terrible racket.
The guards jumped to their feet and hoisted their guns. “Hey, now! This is private property!”
Mabel held her breath. If Gloria didn’t pull off this part, they were done for. The guards might even shoot her. The car shuddered to a stop and Gloria stepped out, wringing her hands. Her voice drifted across the field: “Oh, can you help me, please? I don’t know what’s the matter with this thing! Papa will be so unhappy with me if I??
?ve ruined another auto!”
“Oh, please, please,” Mabel whispered. Her heart hammered away.
The guards exchanged looks and put down their rifles. “Well, let’s see what the trouble is, little lady,” one said, and opened the hood.
“Gee, thank you!” Gloria said flirtatiously.
Mabel felt a pang of jealousy. Of course Gloria had been chosen for this part of the mission: They’d needed someone pretty.
“It’s time,” Arthur said.
They yanked their gray wool caps over their ears and scrambled down the dirt cliff and onto the tracks, darting between the stilled mine cars, ducking under the quiet conveyor belt. In the dark, the mine appeared monstrous, a shadowy giant in repose.
“Let’s go,” Arthur said, and then the two of them scurried across the dusty train ties and slipped into the devil’s mouth.
“Here. Give me your hand.” Arthur reached back and took hold of Mabel’s fingers, guiding her into the pitch dark. They didn’t dare shine a light yet for fear of attracting attention. The air was dense with dust. Mabel could feel it scratching at her lungs with each breath, and she could barely stand to imagine what it must be like nearly two hundred feet below. It was all she could do not to run screaming out the way she’d come.
“Okay. Now we can use that lamp,” Arthur whispered.
From under her sweater, Mabel brought out the flashlight, shining it on Arthur’s gloves as he handled the explosive, packing in dynamite, scrap metal, and powder. He worked quickly, and Mabel tried not to think about how deftly he moved, like an experienced bomb maker. Once his work was done, Arthur tucked the detonator under his arm and backed away from the mine shaft, threading out the fuse line as he did. “Be my eyes, will you, Mabel?” he said.
Mabel cut the flashlight and swiveled her head, eyes searching for possible trouble. The wind carried the sound of the car’s engine starting up once more. “Oh, listen! Purrs just like a sweet kitten,” Gloria said. She honked the horn—their signal—and laughed. “Oops! Silly me!”
“Gloria’s leaving. We’d better hurry,” Mabel said.