Chapter Thirteen
THIRTEEN
“Here you go.” Danny slid two glasses of champagne across the bar to them. He gave Florence a wink. “On the house tonight. Welcome to the Nightingale.”
“Thanks, Danny. You’re a peach.” Vivian smiled back at him, then spun around on her stool before taking a long drink.
The bubbles struck the back of her throat like a jolt of electric light in a dark room, and she sighed with pleasure at the bright rhythm of the music.
Florence, copying Vivian’s movement, took slow, careful sips of her drink as she eyed the dance floor.
Bea had met Vivian for the walk to the Nightingale that night, eyebrows raised when she saw Florence coming along with them in a borrowed dress, nervously touching her hair, which Vivian had pinned up in a faux bob. But she didn’t say anything aside from telling Florence that she looked nice.
She had held back from the rest of the staff, not ready yet to be her usual, outgoing self. But her act was still top-notch. She was, at the moment, up on the bandstand, belting her heart out for the foxtrot.
Vivian couldn’t help tapping her heels against the rung of the barstool in time to the song.
But Florence stared around, looking uneasy.
Her eyes grew wide as one man stopped dancing just long enough to strip off his jacket, wider as a group of well-dressed young men crowded the bar next to them and shouted orders for drinks, then wider still as she spotted two women foxtrotting with their cheeks pressed together.
“This was a bad idea,” Florence whispered, her own cheeks crimson, her fingers fluttering against her glass. “It’s not the sort of place for someone like me.”
“Flo, it’s a place for everyone,” Vivian said, trying to sound encouraging enough to convince both of them. She didn’t want to admit that she was thinking the exact same thing.
“Not for folks who like to keep their clothes on in public,” Florence retorted. Her voice rose just enough to draw curious glances from a few patrons crowding around the bar, and her blush deepened when she saw them tittering. “I should go.”
“But you haven’t even had a dance yet,” Vivian pointed out, starting to feel desperate.
She didn’t need her sister to love the Nightingale the way she did.
But she wanted Florence to understand, to see why it meant so much to her.
She wanted Florence to have a moment of fun, an escape of her own, even if it was only for one night.
It felt like a gift that Florence had decided she didn’t deserve, and Vivian wanted to prove her wrong.
“Let’s find you a fella before you call it quits for the night, okay? ”
“Vivi, I can’t dance like these people,” Florence whispered as the song ended with a flourish and the dancers applauded.
“Sure you can,” Vivian said. “See, they’re starting a waltz next. You know how to waltz.”
“I can do a one-two-three just fine, but nothing fancy. I’d be terrified if I had to follow any of those men.”
“Well, then we’ll find you someone who likes to keep things simple.” Vivian gave her sister’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t be scared, Flo. It’s just for laughs.”
She glanced around the room, hoping to catch someone’s eye. Maybe one of the older gentlemen who frequented the Nightingale? Their manners would go a long way to setting Florence’s nerves at ease. They could always find her someone younger once she was feeling a little calmer.
But the dance floor was crowded, and there were too many bodies around the tables for Vivian to spot any of the familiar faces she was hoping for.
In the moments she spent looking, Florence was already shaking her head, her shoulders drawing together in discomfort and disappointment.
“No. This was a nice thought, really, but I should just go home before I spoil your fun.”
She spun her stool back around, but before she could set her drink down on the bar a cheerful voice spoke up.
“Care for a waltz, miss?”
Danny had just come around the bar and stood by them, leaning one elbow against the counter.
He was clearly eavesdropping on their conversation but looked so friendly that it was hard to hold it against him.
His suspenders cut sharp black lines down his chest, emphasizing the fact that he certainly wasn’t wearing a coat, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up over muscular forearms. For a moment Vivian thought her sister would refuse, but Danny continued before Florence could gather her objections.
“My break’s just about to start, and I’d be honored to take a turn around the floor with you.
” Danny gave Florence another smile, one that almost had a hint of shyness to it.
Before Vivian could decide whether that was an act for her sister’s benefit or the real deal, he was holding out his hand. “How ’bout it?”
Florence hesitated, glancing down at his hand then sideways at Vivian. But she had at least met Danny before, and this time, he was being friendly rather than flirtatious.
Before Florence could respond, though, a slurred voice broke in.
“A girl like her doesn’t dance with the help.”
Vivian was almost knocked off her stool as one of the rowdy young men from the group next to them, already sloppy and reeking of gin, pushed forward to leer at Florence. “How ’bout it, doll? You know you’d rather go for a spin with a fella who can afford to buy the drinks instead of mixing them.”
Vivian tried to push him away, but he just laughed and reached for Florence.
Danny tensed, his hands clenching into fists and his feet shifting into a wide stance.
For all his easygoing charm, he had learned to throw a punch when he was just a kid growing up in a tough neighborhood, and he could be a vicious fighter when provoked.
But before Vivian could decide whether it was better to haul her sister out of harm’s way or yell for the Nightingale’s muscle, Florence had swatted the drunk young man’s hand away.
“If I’d known the bouncers let children in here, I wouldn’t have come,” she said, the scorn in her voice cold as ice. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, little boy?”
The young man’s face flushed red with embarrassment as he gaped at her, too surprised to come up with a retort. That was all his friends needed; they howled with laughter, clapping his shoulders and shouting “little boy!” as they hauled him away.
Danny was the first to recover, flashing a quick hand signal at the other bartender and pointing to the knot of young men.
Vivian knew that it would only be a few minutes before Silence or Benny appeared to forcefully suggest that they find another place to spend their time and money.
Already dismissing them from her mind, she turned to Florence, who was sitting up very straight and breathing heavily.
“You all right, Flo?” Vivian asked quietly, putting a hand on her sister’s arm.
The fierceness didn’t surprise her—it might take a lot to provoke Florence, but Vivian had seen it happen before.
She could also guess how much a confrontation like that would rattle her sister, who had been so uncertain about coming to the Nightingale in the first place.
“I’m fine,” Florence said quietly, but she didn’t sound like she meant it.
Danny turned his attention back to them before she could say anything else. “Where the hell did that come from?” he demanded, staring at Florence.
She met his eyes. “I don’t like people who think they’re something special just because they have money to throw around,” she said, the words all the more intense for being delivered in her soft voice.
Vivian could feel Florence trembling under her touch and was about to suggest that they leave after all when her sister abruptly stood up.
“Well, Mr. Chin?” she said, taking a deep breath.
“Are you still interested in that dance?”
He blinked at her for a moment before a slow smile spread across his face.
“Absolutely,” he said, holding out his hand once more.
Before Vivian understood what was happening, Florence had taken it, and he was leading her toward the floor.
“You don’t mind if we keep it simple, do you?
” he asked. “I’m not much of a waltzer, but I can give it a go. ”
“You don’t need to pretend you weren’t eavesdropping, Mr. Chin,” Florence said tartly, but Danny just laughed, and soon they were too far away from Vivian to hear any more.
Danny did keep it simple, Vivian could see as she finished her drink and claimed her sister’s abandoned glass.
Simple, gentle, but still elegant, an easy lead for her sister to follow.
They looked good together, she realized in surprise, with the top of Florence’s curly head reaching just under Danny’s nose until he bent down to say something in her ear, their bodies swaying in time with the music.
Florence, when the dance next turned them in her direction, was smiling back at him.
Vivian let out the breath she had been holding.
But underneath her relief was a pang of some emotion she didn’t want to think too closely about.
Tossing back the rest of Florence’s champagne, she reached out almost blindly and caught the elbow of the first man going past. She didn’t know him, but he was young and handsome, with high cheekbones, carefully pomaded hair, and a natty striped suit.
“Fancy a spin on the floor?” she asked.
His surprise at being stopped quickly gave way to a broad smile. “I’m game for anything, baby,” he purred, taking her hand and leading her to the floor.
Vivian fell into step easily with him, trying to lose herself in the dance. But no matter which way they turned, her eyes kept finding Danny and Florence, who never once looked around to find her.
When the song ended and the band struck up a Baltimore, she expected Danny to lead Florence back to the bar, and she thanked her partner absently as she looked for them. But she didn’t catch sight of them until she was back on her stool.