Authors: Sienna Mynx
He shoved the money in his pocket glancing around to see if anyone was watching. “Where did you get this kind of money? Romano? It’s dangerous for you to walk around with this money sis. Come with me.”
“
I belong with him. Don’t you see that now? You of all people should know we can’t help who we love, only the choices we make. I’ve made mine. Paulette agreed to go with you. It’s why we chose Chicago. I’ll be in touch in a day or so. Send you a wire of where I am and more money if I can. Just go.”
Paulette touched Willie’s arm. “She’s going to do this suga. I suggest you listen to her.”
The whistle blew again.
Harmony pressed two hundred dollars in Paulette’s hands. Her friend promised to see her brother settled in and to make sure he recovered well before they parted. Paulette picked up Willie’s suitcase and hooked her arm around his good one. The other was in a homemade sling. Harmony leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you baby-boy. Always.”
Their parting tore at her resolve. She knew he had a point. What she planned could very well get her killed. This could be the last time she saw him. Willie’s eyes glistened with closely held tears. He blinked them away and managed a small smile. “I’m sorry sis, for everything.”
“
Let’s go suga, we’ll miss the train.” Paulette said.
Harmony nodded for them to do so. He reluctantly let Paulette help him. He boarded the steps, paused and looked back at her. Then they disappeared in the train car. Harmony wiped her tears away and turned. She headed for her car. The Johnny Ringo remained tucked deep in her satchel, but she needed to get somewhere to count the money and stash the bond before she saw part two of her plan through.
***
Red Hots was located off 125
th
and 7
th
Avenue. The place looked no different than the market to its left and the Chinese laundry to the right. But at night Seventh Avenue was bumper-to-bumper with Negroes dressed in their finest and trying to get through its doors. Harmony closed the door to her car and stared up at the sign. She’d never been inside. Lewis would come home drunk many nights from this place. When Paulette told her Madame St. Clair and Grease Man would only meet at this place she knew the gamble would be great.
“
Hmm, something smells sweet this morning.” Came a long drawl from behind her. Her gaze shifted from the sign to the man now standing to her left on the sidewalk. Flat unsmiling eyes pinned her. “Waiting for someone, sweet thang?”
The stranger was taller than most men, but very thin. He wore a deep purple suit with a bright red tie. His wide brim hat was purple with red trim. He shifted the toothpick in his mouth and she caught the gleam of a shiny tooth that looked to be golden. Living in Harlem and working the jazz scene she’d run into this kind of man before, a street pimp that hustled girls into selling their bodies for him. His gaze was sharp and assessing like that of a cobra. She eased her hand inside her satchel and held to the Johnny Ringo. “I have a meeting with Madame St. Clair.”
“
Harmony right?”
“
Yes.”
“
I knew your old man. Lewis.” His sly grin spread across his face. His skin was so dark the whites of his eyes were quite startling when they stretched in recognition. “Queenie waiting to see you. Come with me.”
She sucked in a brave breath and followed him to the door. He pounded on it and after a pause it opened. The darkness beyond made her stomach quiver with nerves. Paulette left The Cotton after her call and raced down to Red Hot’s to make the request for this meeting for her. According to her friend, Madame St. Clair was pretty pissed at Willie for selling her stolen booze. Paulette warned Harmony that the meeting would be on the mob boss’s terms, so if she entered to an ambush no one but her brother and friend knew she was here. She just had to keep her wits about her and stay on guard.
“
So? You going in or what?” The pimp asked her.
“
Yes.” She walked inside the musty, narrow corridor and descended a flight of stairs. The burn of oils, cigarettes, and spicy cooked meet singed her nose and burned her eyes. The club was pretty small with a low hanging ceiling. Lighting was either focused on the stage or relegated to the bar and the candles on the table, which made it harder to see. She scanned the bar to the left and saw several men seated, both black and white. She had heard of Madame St. Clair’s band of Forty Thieves, and didn’t believe a black woman could run a gang of white men. But there was no black woman wielding as much power and control in Harlem, New York as the revered Madame St. Clair.
“
Keep moving.” She received a gentle pat to her backside, and cringed at the unwanted touch. There was a stage to the back and a few tables and seats around a hardwood dance floor. It was only a third of the size of The Cotton. Still she knew for a fact some of Harlem’s elite dined and performed there.
“
Bring her here
cherie
!” A sweet Caribbean voice called over to them. Harmony’s gaze swung to the right. The woman those on the streets referred to as Queenie sat waiting. Seated inside the circular booth with her were two men. The man to her left had a deep tan, and dark black hair oiled back from his face. He looked like the Sicilians that frequented The Cotton. He leaned forward with his elbows resting on the table, hands clasped. He had severe dark brows over clear blue eyes that made his stare cold and unreadable. On the other side of Madame St. Clair was a black man. He wore a dark suit and his skin was a deep chestnut. He sort of leaned back into the booth seat with his arm thrown over the back, slouching. A cigarette was pressed to his lips and he drew hard making the end burn bright orange. He exhaled a cloud of smoke removing the cigarette and his features were shielded in the milky wave. Still, Harmony knew it had to be the infamous Grease Man she had heard Lewis and Milo often speak of. She’d never seen him in person but his presence was felt as was Madame St. Clair’s.
Harmony swallowed hard and walked toward them. Her legs were stiff but her back was straight. “Madame St. Clair, thank you for seeing me.”
The woman snorted, in disgust. Now before her, she could see her clearly. She had beautiful skin, like warmed honey and a colorful head wrap that contained a wealth of dark curls. Harmony guessed her age to be mid-thirties, but she could easily pass for ten years younger. Lewis said she was French, and from the part of the Caribbean where blacks were quite wealthy. Madame St. Clair carried an air of superiority. “You got a lot guts coming to see me
cherie
. Don’t you know what your brother has done?”
“
I do.”
“
Still you stand here, unrepentant?”
“
No ma’am. That’s not it at all. I am repentant, and I intend to make up for what he’s done.”
The white man chuckled. “Give her to me Queenie, I have some ideas how she can work it off. I hear she’s fond of Sicilians.”
Harmony held her tongue but she cut the bastard a warning glare. The idea formed after the fight with Vinnie and their subsequent lovemaking in his office. He had confessed it all. What Antonio had done, how the old Dons had turned their backs on him because of the messy turf war and his taking up with a black woman. All of it. He even told her a few things she didn’t know about Madame St. Clair and her thirst for power and control over Harlem. So she directed her answer to the woman who controlled the snakes slithering around her. “I’m not a whore, or a thief.”
“
That’s not what I hear
cherie.
I hear you done took to sleeping with a dead man. As his jezebel.”
The men at the bar snickered, so did the Sicilian sitting next to Madame. Grease however didn’t. He continued to watch her with a steady gaze. Harmony felt her courage soften and the sharp edge of fear pierce her gut. She felt her knees go weak but she tried to keep her focus. “Whatever I am or ain’t, shouldn’t be of your concern. I’m here to make amends. That’s the purpose of this visit between me and you.”
“
And what you giving up to Vinnie Romano.” The Sicilian spat.
“
Something you’ll never get.” She shot back.
Queenie let go a rambunctious peal of laughter. Harmony waited until the humor faded from her eyes. She reached in her satchel to bring her deal to the table but froze. Immediately she felt the business end of a revolver press into the back of her head. “I’m not going for my weapon.”
“
Put it on the table all the same.” The man said to her. Harmony reached inside and removed the Johnny Ringo. It hurt to even reveal the gun to them. It was Vinnie’s gift to her, and the only thing that she carried that gave her faith that she could help him. The hoodlum behind her snatched it from her hand. “Holy shit. Man, you see this. Bitch has a Ringo? Fuck. Wanted one of these.”
“
I want it back when I leave.”
“
Who says you leaving?” The Sicilian snickered.
Harmony ignored him. She addressed Queenie. “My brother owes you a debt, and I mean no disrespect in thinking I can set a price for it. But it is indeed what I intend to do.”
“
How much?” Queenie asked.
“
Three thousand dollars.” Harmony put the money on the table. Grease Man sat upright out of his slouch and a silence fell over the room.
“
Where the hell you get that kind of money Jazz Singer?”
All eyes went to her. “Is it enough? To repay my brother’s debt?”
Queenie narrowed her eyes on her. She glanced over to Grease who counted out the money. He nodded that it was three thousand dollars. Queenie nodded. “Consider it paid.”
Harmony let go a deep sigh. “Thank you. I wanted that business cleared up so I could uh, ask for, uh, request… I came to...”
“
Spit it out!” Queenie shouted.
“
I want you to save Vincenzio Romano. I’m willing to pay for you to do so.”
“
You ain’t got enough money for that.” Grease’s voice commanded equal authority as Queenie’s. The glare he fixed her with would have made her a believer. She refused to give in that easily.
“
I have seven thousand dollars.” She removed the money and placed it on the table. “And after it’s done I have the other three thousand hid. Is that enough money?”
“
Everybody be quiet.” Queenie leaned forward. “What’s to keep me from taking that money from you right now bitch?”
“
Honor, respect. I showed you respect by coming here and paying the debt my brother owed first. I’m showing it to you now by offering the money up front to save him. I think you want Harlem, well those Sicilians are trying to take it from you.” She cut the man to Queenie’s left a nasty glare, making sure her point was plain. “Antonio Romano is dead and the cover of protection he gave you from the cops is over. The war could spill on to the street, your streets. If you were to strike back and send a message to Luciano wouldn’t that make you truly the Queen?”
Her words took on a life on their own as they lingered and lengthened the silence between her and these evil people. Harmony seized on the silence. She tried again to get through to the woman who could end her life at any moment.
“
Helping me save his life sends the kind of message you need to. Vincenzio never stole from you Queenie. He never moved in on Harlem. His brother is dead for what he dragged you and my brother into. And I’m offering ten thousand dollars to get the Romano’s out of Harlem for good.”
“
Syl, take her to the back while I discuss this with the boys.”
“
Wait!” Harmony stepped forward. The Sicilian however eased out of the booth ready to seize her. “My time is short. I don’t know how long…”
“
I’ve heard enough of your mouth bitch. Get your ass to the back and we’ll let you know how this goes down.” Queenie sneered at her. The gentle lovely features she possessed when she smiled disappeared into the threatening scowl she leveled at Harmony. The plan wasn’t working and she had to think of something to do quick.
Harmony whirled on the hoodlum who took her gun. He had it shoved down to the front of his pants. Before he could react she snatched it from his loop. She heard several men around her draw on her. “I’m not going anywhere without my pistol. Period!”
Queenie chuckled. “Crazy, ain’t she? Jazz Singer you’d be dead before you pull the trigger
cherie
.”
“
Then it won’t be a problem if I keep it on me.”
“
Not at all.” Queenie shrugged.