Whistling in the Dark (18 page)

Jack leaned against him with a look of wicked cheer. "What have I done to you?"

Sutton didn't have an answer for that, as much as he might've wanted one. "This is a respectable place."

"You think so?" Jack's tone was quiet and inquisitive and he leaned all the harder. The jealousy sparked by seeing him dance with Gert dissolved into a pleasure nearly as painful and yet welcome. Sutton noticed the sandwich Esther held out to him and took it with a flustered thank you. Esther seemed amused. Did everyone notice his distraction, or was it his imagination?

"I've got to go," Esther was saying. "The lunch crowd will be in, if they're not all over here."

Jack nudged Ox, who sat staring at the unwrapped sandwich in his hands. Ox went pale, but he put down the sandwich and got to his feet. "Es?"

She turned back. "Did I forget something?"

Ox seemed to have the same trouble breathing Sutton had, moments ago. "I--we--we're going out. That's tonight and I--we're going to supper. And, you know, dancing. So maybe you could come with me--with us," he said, so shyly that Sutton's heart ached for him. "So--what do you say?"

"Probably 'huh?'," Harry muttered.

"Hush," Jack said. "She'll say yes."

"You're sure?" Sutton asked.

"'Course. She likes him plenty."

If that was the case, Sutton had to think her feelings had changed. She shifted the basket in her grip and retreated in the direction of the door. "It isn't that I wouldn't like to go dancing. Just--not tonight. Dan's in a school recital and Ida wants me to stay late."

Head hung, Ox shuffled backward a few steps. Esther looked ready to cry, herself. "Another night, all right? Ox--"

He fled and Esther's face crumpled. Tearing, she turned and ran, but Jack caught her at the door. "Hey, hold on a minute. What the hell was that about?"

Harry promptly swatted him. "Let her get her breath, will you?" He gave Esther his handkerchief. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Ida really making you work tonight?"

"I'll work the rest of your shift," Sutton said. "Ida will agree to it if she doesn't have to pay me."

"Even Cinderella had a night off," Jack said. "Come on, Es. You've been waiting ages for Ox to get up the nerve to ask. Sutton and I will take your shift. Between the two of us, we could just about keep up. You've done so much for us, it's only fair."

"I appreciate it. I really do." A little calmer, she wiped her cheeks. "You boys just can't understand and I can't--I'll go another time, all right?"

"Oh, honey..." Gert pushed past Harry and Jack, and draped a companionable arm around a startled Esther's shoulders. "Don't trouble yourself trying to explain anything to these dopes. It's tossing precious time out the window, you know? Anyways, you're about my size--" Her gaze dropped to Esther's front. "More or less. But that ain't nothing to worry about. With these new dresses, a girl don't need a bosom, anyhow."

Esther laughed despite her tears. "I can't--"

"Why, sure you can. You don't want to break that dumb lug's heart, do you, honey? Because I have this enormous closetful of gowns and, well, there ain't enough parties in a day, really."

"And she ought to know," Harry said.

Gert ignored him. "I was poor once, same as you, honey. Poor as a mouse, selling cigarettes and gum and putting up with things you wouldn't believe. My whole life was nothing but sandwiches and beer on the top floor of a stinking walk-up, till a sweet old daddy gave me my first taste of champagne." She turned a slender wrist, making the diamonds in her bracelet sparkle, and smiled in satisfaction. "So..." Her blue eyes narrowed on Jack. "What time are you boys coming 'round for us?"

"What?" Jack sputtered and Harry cut in swiftly, "Nine o'clock. That all right with you, Esther?"

Esther looked dazed. "I suppose so--"

"There, it's all settled," Gert said. "You still on your lunch hour, honey? You come on home with me and we'll take a look through the goods."

The door swung shut behind them and Jack scowled. "She's one floozy of a fairy godmother. You know Ned sent her to spy on us. I should've told her straight that she can be as sweet as sugar and do us all the favors in the world and it won't get her anywhere. Bailey's Emporium isn't a nightclub and won't be, not now and not ever."

"Apart from the music and dancing," Sutton pointed out with a laugh--then wished he hadn't as both men looked at him. "I only meant--"

"We got customers." Jack brushed past him, leaving him standing with the feeble explanation still on his lips.

Harry offered a weary smile. "Don't worry about it, kid. He's just trying to work some things out, that's all."

He started to turn away and Sutton caught his arm. "Harry, this is personal, I know--but I can't leave it." However presumptuous Harry would think him, he couldn't let Jack fall the way of John Campbell. "I know Jack's having some difficulty getting past his time in France, but--you won't ever let him go in for electric shock, will you? It might hurt him so you won't even know him anymore. I couldn't bear to think of it--" He hesitated, conscious of what he might be revealing, but the words wouldn't stay unsaid. "Jack has so much spirit. So much heart. You can't let that be lost."

Harry nodded. "Tell you the truth, I wasn't considering it, though the doc at the hospital suggested it last spring. I couldn't understand the idea of torturing nerves already on edge." Gratitude softened his sardonic tone. "Sounds like you had your turn bringing him back from France."

"Bringing him back?" Sutton smiled wryly. "I suppose I have."

"I should've told you. Jack wouldn't. He hates fuss. He tell you you could come stay with me?"

"Yes, but I told him I wanted to stay where I was."

The worried lines around Harry's eyes eased. "Yeah? I'm glad to hear it. Look." He fished a scrap of paper from his pocket and the pencil from behind his ear. "Here's where you can ring me up if you need some help with him. A lot of times he's up all night, but other times he goes to sleep after one of those spells. Takes a lot out of him. I left a bottle of chloral over there in case he needs it, but I've got to practically hold him down to get him to use it. You familiar with the stuff?"

"Chloral? Yes, I remember it."

"And none too fondly, eh?"

"To be honest, I'm not sure I can encourage Jack to take it."

"No?" Harry's gaze was shrewd. "Maybe that's all right, then. You know what he's going through." He started back to the office. "While I'm thinking of it--don't play pool with him unless you're broke already. That goes for checkers and cards, too. And don't let him talk you into going out on the town at four in the morning. And don't..." He looked around at Sutton and considered a moment before shaking his head. "Never mind."

Sutton sensed this was something he needed to know. "Never mind what?"

But Harry only chuckled to himself and kept walking.

- Nineteen -

From his crouch beneath the workbench, Jack traced a finger over the acid burns in the wood floor and pondered putting a tray under the batteries. Unraveling a length of cord, he secured the batteries in the corner, then gave the floor another rueful glance before crawling from under the workbench. Chase would have a lot of work on his hands to turn the old place into a nightclub, that was certain.

Brushing the dust off his trousers, Jack hopped onto the workbench and checked the wires to be sure he hadn't knocked anything loose. As he switched on the current, he thought of Sutton's off-hand comment and had to laugh. For months, he'd fought Ned on the idea of turning the emporium into a club and now here he was, turning it into a transmitting station. No matter how strenuously he assured himself it was necessary to the survival of the business, he couldn't deny he enjoyed it a hell of a lot more than selling novelties.

Besides, Sutton hadn't known all the details of his long battle with Ned. He hadn't known--and yet he'd stepped into the fray when Vance and Ned came calling. Jack wouldn't have guessed Sutton had it in him to jump a tough like Vance, especially when he knew Ned could have shot him for his trouble.

"Jack?"

He heard Sutton's regret. "Yeah?"

Sutton glanced warily at the microphone. "It isn't switched on, is it?"

"Don't want to make an apology to the whole world?"

"Sometimes I feel as though I ought to."

"To hell with that. You haven't done the world any harm. Or me, so just forget it."

Sutton searched his face. "You're sure?"

"What kind of pal would I be, to get sore at you for pointing out the obvious? You don't know the whole story about Chase and Ned and--" Jack sighed. "I'll spare you most of it. Ned's folks and mine were friends--not close, but friendly. After I was born, my mother was in a bad way and went into the hospital for a while..." An ache rose in his throat, but the sympathy in Sutton's eyes made him plunge on before questions could come.

"My dad had to pay the doctors, so he borrowed money from Ned's dad, who was pretty flush at the time. He was into all types of schemes--cons, really, and he ended up in the Tombs. My dad went to pay him back, but he wouldn't take it. Maybe he sensed he didn't have much time left. He died in prison and passed all his schemes on to Ned--including what he figured was an investment in our business. The short of it is, my folks tried time and again to pay Ned back--tried to help him out any way they could. Hell, my dad offered him a job, but Ned wasn't interested. Then I topped my dad's mistake by borrowing from Chase and now he and Ned want to take over this place and turn it into a club."

"They can't force you to go along--"

"Ned's leaning hard to get me to. But if I can't make the rent--well, it won't matter one way or another."

Sutton nodded solemnly. "I believe I'm ready for another performance, if you are."

That calm confidence knocked down the worries piling around Jack. Staying open until the last customer had gone, he locked the door at eight and walked the store, arranging shelves and picking up toys that had been left out of their bins. Harry finished an accounting of the day's receipts and, emerging from the office with the biggest smile Jack had ever seen on him, promised to be back at nine-thirty with Esther and Gert.

Jack sent Ox home to dress and swept the shop by himself. By the time he reached the back, he found Sutton had dozed off in the armchair. A stray blond lock fell over his brow, the slightest smile curving his lips. He might have been slumbering among the wildflowers at home. Nothing seemed to disturb his sleep and Jack envied him that. It had to be a hell of a magic potion that spared him the usual nightmares.

Jack's glance strayed to the sheet music, where notes in dense, bewildering stands crowded each bar. He took a seat at the piano--the one place, he mused, where Sutton always seemed at home--and tapped middle C, wishing he could play something his mother had taught him. She'd given him a handful of lessons one summer when he was eight, before she had wryly concluded she would have to tie him to the piano bench to compel him to practice.

A sentimental melody she had loved came to mind and note by slow note, he hunted for it, humming when he wasn't sure which key to try. One note refused to be discovered and he swore under his breath as he plunked up and down the keyboard in search of it.

Sutton's laugh was drowsy and affectionate. "You want B flat." He sat up and tapped the key. Jack tried again, unexpectedly self-conscious with Sutton listening. Sutton sat beside him and tossed in some chords while he struggled along with the melody. When Jack stumbled, firm fingers maneuvered his, and the voice in his ear was all patient encouragement. He put his left hand tentatively on the keys and with Sutton guiding, added chords--and for a wonderful moment, he played the piano.

"Well, damn."

The murmur elicited another laugh from Sutton, who leaned against him, still warm from his nap. "Have you considered lessons?"

"You offering?"

Those gray eyes, interested, intrigued, offered something more. Jack felt momentary alarm at how willingly his heart--not to mention various other parts of him--reacted to the invitation.

An invitation he had to decline. "We'd better dress."

Sutton let go of his hand. "Yes. If we're going to be on time to aid the course of true love."

"You read too many novels."

"You don't believe in happily ever afters?"

"Happily for just now suits me fine. Supper, music, dancing, and getting Ox and Esther together so Ox'll quit moping over her and she'll quit pretending not to mope over him."

"Highly practical of you."

"Ain't--" Jack coughed. "Isn't it?" He waved Sutton out of the shop and locked the door after them. "I can't figure why Harry doesn't appreciate that about me."

"I'll put in a word on your behalf next time I see him."

"Good. That'll be in about thirty minutes."

_{- - -}

After a nap in the bathtub, Jack wrapped himself in a towel and went to make coffee. Without time to percolate a pot, he settled for the instant. Even after months, he couldn't stomach the taste, but it warded off the cold. He was warming his hands around a steaming cup when he heard an exclamation through the doorway at the end of the hall. He had never heard Sutton swear before. He leaned around the door to see Sutton sitting on the bed, wrestling with his tie. "Need some help?"

Sutton dropped his hands to his lap. "I do it every time. The damned thing."

Jack put down the coffee and studied the knot. "Maybe I should've kept my army knife." He bent closer and the sweet, clean smell of shaving soap and coconut shampoo became a distraction. He exhaled and, when Sutton glanced at him, hastily focused on the tie. "Damn, you did get it tangled. Who rescued you at home?"

"Mary, most often. But I usually took the scissors to it."