Chapter Three #2
Vivian lifted her chin. Honor never flirted with her anymore, but that gaze was enough.
Just being around each other could still put them both on edge, could remind them of everything they had left unresolved.
She wished there was some way to set things at ease between them.
But she hadn’t figured out how. Not yet.
“I hate to see her such a wreck,” Vivian said, answering Honor’s question. She wondered which of them was going to be brave or reckless enough to mention the offer she had made. “Bea usually holds it together better than anyone I know. For her to be this upset…”
“She and Pearlie had gotten close, I think,” Honor said.
“And him going is probably reminding her of her dad,” Vivian added, her glance straying toward the door.
She regretted it instantly; it was hard to know whether it was ever safe to tell Honor personal information.
But Honor liked Bea. And there was little chance, anyway, that she didn’t know that Mr. Henry’s death had changed his family forever.
Honor nodded slowly. The playful sounds of a piano solo made their way into the room, pattering through the still air between them, making Vivian suddenly remember her promise to dance with Jimmy.
Vivian waited. She didn’t have to wait long.
“So. You’re going to ask him for help, then?” Honor didn’t mean Jimmy. “Do you think he’ll say yes?”
“You’re not the only one who has a hard time saying no to me,” Vivian said, but the words were playful rather than pointed.
Honor laughed softly. “True enough.” She held open the door for Vivian, and another wave of heat and music washed over them as they stepped back into the dance hall.
Spots of light reflected from a thousand spangles danced over the walls and patrons alike.
Vivian took a deep breath, watching as a young woman in a silver-and-green gown persuaded another girl to join her on the dance floor, bangles flashing and legs moving in a joyful blur as they danced, breaking away to mirror each other briefly before coming together once more.
In the corner, one of the waitresses was being pulled out of her break, laughing but not protesting, by a young man with curly black hair.
To them, to so many of the other people Vivian could see, the Nightingale wasn’t just a place for a drink and a smoke and a spin around the floor. Plenty of people thought the daylight world of the city was the safer place to be. But that all depended on who you were.
That wasn’t true at the Nightingale. It might not be safe—it was illegal, no matter how much protection money Honor paid—but its dangers were distributed far more evenly than most other places.
Honor surveyed it all with pride, cool and elegant and dangerous as a panther on its own turf.
But Vivian thought there was an undercurrent of tension in her posture.
Honor had built something important in the Nightingale, and she was ruthless about protecting it.
That ruthlessness didn’t come with any easy choices.
“I’d do anything to help Bea out,” Vivian said quietly, continuing their conversation from the dressing room. “He might say no. He might not be able to help, even if he wanted to. But I’m going to ask.”
Honor looked thoughtful as she nodded. “Let me know what he says, and if you find anything out,” she said.
Her eyes drifted back to Vivian—was there an edge of longing to that look?
Vivian could never be sure anymore—before her perfectly shaped brows drew together in a worried frown.
It made Vivian shiver. Honor almost never let anyone see her worried.
“You know why I can’t get involved yet, right? ”
“I do.” And she did. The world of smoky dance floors and shady deals and drinks imported across state lines ran on what you knew and who owed you. Honor couldn’t waste favors if she wasn’t sure what had happened.
There was every chance Pearlie’s death was exactly what it seemed, though Vivian couldn’t blame her friend for wishing it was something else. And if asking for a favor at the coroner’s office would help Bea find her way through the suffocating layers of grief, Vivian would do it gladly.
But even if it turned out that Bea was right, and there was something off about her uncle’s death, Honor couldn’t risk getting involved until she had a better idea what had happened.
If she angered the wrong people by looking into it, or doing something about it, then the Nightingale and everyone who depended on it would be in danger. None of them could afford that.
“The doc was probably right,” Honor said quietly.
“And until we know otherwise, we treat it like sad news and nothing more. I don’t need folks getting scared.
” She turned and gave Vivian a smile, her full red lips kicking up at the corners.
Honor always smiled like she had a secret.
“Which means you need to get back to work, pet.”
“No rest for the wicked,” Vivian said. If she took a step closer, she knew Honor would smell like vanilla and cinnamon and whiskey.
But she stayed where she was. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pretty Jimmy on the dance floor; when he caught her eye, he spun out his partner and used his free hand to blow her a kiss.
Behind the bar, Danny was leaning on his elbows, making the leader of a group of wild girls blush as she ordered drinks for her friends.
Pearlie used to stand right at the end of the bar, keeping an eye on things.
He had only been there for a few months, but it already seemed emptier without his larger-than-life presence.
Vivian swallowed down her own sadness. “I’m not likely to turn up anything surprising about Pearlie, am I? ”
Honor had been about to turn away, but she paused. “I wouldn’t take that bet,” she said after a moment’s thought. “People will always surprise you if you look too closely at their lives. But the odds of … well, it’s most likely nothing.”
Vivian nodded. “It’s most likely nothing,” she repeated, trying to reassure herself as much as anything. She shivered, wondering what, exactly, had Bea so convinced that something wasn’t adding up about her uncle’s death. “But if Bea’s right, we’re gonna need your help.”