Ingenue Part 15

She turned her head, and there he was.

Marcus.

Clara had to squelch the desire to give him a hug. He was not hers to hug anymore.

aMarcus,a she said with a small smile. aHi.a Marcusas eyes flicked to Parker and back to her. aWhoas this?a aHeas my editor,a Clara said quickly.

Parker extended his hand. aParker Richards, editor of the Manhattanite. You must be proud of everything your friendas accomplished, huh?a Claraas heart seemed to stop for a moment at the way Parker called Marcus her friend. Parker had no idea who Marcus was because Clara had never mentioned him. Shead never mentioned having a boyfriend, even when Parker had asked her about it.

Marcus stared at Parkeras hand, then turned to Clara, his blue eyes cold. aSo this is why you wanted to be a journalist.a aMarcus, thatas not fair. Itas not like that.a aYou want to talk to me about whatas fair?a he asked, his voice rising. aWell, youave got a h.e.l.luva story now, Clara. I hope your typewriter keeps you warm at night.a His mouth twitched. aAnd your new beau.a Marcus stomped up the stairs. Clara stared, unsure of what to do. A voice in her head was screaming Go after him! She could explain about Parker. Marcus wouldnat have gotten so jealous if he didnat still love her, right?

Parker tapped her shoulder. aYou all right?a aIam fine,a Clara replied. aCamon, Parker. Letas go up top and see whatas going on outside.a Clara felt guilty about letting Marcus down once again. But there was one thing Marcus was definitely right about: This was a h.e.l.luva story.

If Clara thought the scene inside the club had been chaotic, it was nothing compared to what she found outside. The alleyway was filled with peoplea"FBI agents shead expected, but outnumbering them six to one were black men and a few women. Most of them were dressed to the nines and carried instruments in casesa"they were musicians, she realized. Someone out on the street was blowing a horn, and the plaintive sound wended its way into the alley.

aWho are all these people?a Parker asked. aWhy are they here?a aA parade?a Clara guessed.

aClara!a a voice called, and from the crowd came Vera Johnson and her handsome trumpeter boyfriend, Evan. Vera looked stricken. aIs he all right? Jerome?a aHeas fine, Vera,a Clara said. aI think theyare bringing him outa"a Before she could finish, the girl threw her arms around Clara and crushed her in an embrace.

aOh, thank you!a aI didnat do anything!a Clara said once theyad parted. aThough it looks like you were ready to do something.a aWe couldnat muster the cavalry,a Evan said, shrugging, abut we did the next best thing: Everybody we know and everybody they know in the industry. Figured Carlito and his gang couldnat shoot all of us. We figured we could overpower them with a big enough mob. There can be power in numbers.a And then Jerome was there, walking down the alley between two agents.

Vera flung herself at him, practically knocking him off his feet. The agents stepped back and reached for their weapons, but Jerome just waved them off and said, aItas my sister, guys.a Jerome pulled Vera into a tight hug, and she sobbed into her brotheras chest. aIam so sorry, Jerome,a she said, the words muddled by her tears. aFor everything youave gone through. Iam just so glad youare safe.a aShhh,a Jerome said, aof course Iam safe. Why wouldnat I be?a Vera looked as though she wanted to answer the question but had no idea what to say. She seemed so young, so frightened; she reminded Clara how young they all were. Publishing articles? Chasing after mobsters? Capturing killers? What normal seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds did these sorts of things?

If nothing else, Clara thought, let it never be said that I havenat lived an exciting life.

For the first time in a long while, Clara felt truly alone. But she wasnat scared. Instead, she felt exhilarated, fresh, and new. Life wasnat always about lovea"that was the old way, when a girl lived solely for her man. Nowadays life could be about promise, about worka"about a girlas finding something she was good at and following through.

She was done trying to be the woman Marcus or Parker wanted her to be.

She was going to be the woman she wanted to be.

This story was just for her.

GLORIA.

CARLITO MACHARELLI KILLED AT SPEAKEASY OPENING!.

CHICAGO DEB SHOWS MOBSTER WHOaS BOSS!

FORBIDDEN LOVE, GANGSTERS, AND MURDER: A NIGHT NEW YORK WILL NEVER FORGET!.

It had finally happened: Gloria Carmody was a star.

She carefully clipped articles from the Times, the Post, and the Wall Street Journal. New York papers werenat the only ones covering her storya"the reporters in Chicago had been all over it, too. Several made trips to New York just so they could interview the teenage aristocrat whoad fallen in love with a black musician and shot a gangster. The Tribune and the Evening Journal had both already run more than one two-page spread about her.

That was how she learned about Ruth Coughlin and how Ruthas boss, Al Capone, hadnat been too happy about Tony Giaconias murder. Al Capone had just managed to get Chicago under his thumb. How would it have looked if word had got out that Capone couldnat control his own guys? That one of those guys got knocked off by a black piano player and a deb? So Capone sent Ruth to clean up Carlitoas mess. She took care of Bastian first on the docks in Chicago. Then she went after Carlito, Gloria, and Jerome in New York.

Gloria set the articles aside and opened the black sc.r.a.pbook Clara had brought her as a gift.

The magazine article that took up the first few pages always made her smile. Claraas photographer had taken about a million pictures of Gloria, Hank, and the other agents after they arrived at the police station. Gloria looked like a frightened little girl in some and a back talking criminal in others.

But in the photo Clara and Parker had chosen for the article, Gloriaas face had just the right mix of righteous anger, pride, and bruised glamour. She looked like a white light next to the group of dark-suited FBI agents.

GLORIA CARMODY FIGHTS FOR LOVE.

By Clara Knowles.

Eighteen-year-old Gloria Carmody is a flapper extraordinaire, the embodiment of all that the daring modern girl strives to bea"with all that modern girlas tarnished dreams and dizzy exuberances, all her accidental sins and pa.s.sionate mistakes. Gloria has dared to live without societyas approval. Sheas gambled everything so that she can be the one thing that matters most to her: true to herself.

In Chicago, she rejected a picture-perfect society marriage to pursue the taboo love of piano player Jerome Johnson. Thatas not all she went aftera"she also snagged a job singing the blues at a top Chicago club, the Green Mill. She courageously defended Jeromeas life and her own against the gangster Tony Giaconi, shooting him dead when he threatened her. And when, six months after her crime and in another city, Gloria at last had to face her punishment onstage at the Opera House, she didnat shed a single tear.

And yet she is sitting in a jail cell, awaiting trial, instead of out on the street, living her life to the fullest. How can we, as a society, condemn a girl for protecting herself against a man sent to kill her and her lovera"

Gloria was grateful for the article. It was the first story about her case to appear, and it set the tone for everything that followed. Instead of depicting her as a notorious criminal, the press hailed her as athe new womanaa"a leader for flappers and other strong-willed women to follow.

Only, she didnat feel like much of a heroine right now. Everything in this place was graya"the brick walls, the sheets on her cotas too-thin mattress, and the steel desk bolted to the wall. Sometime soon, the Chicago police would show up to take her to a more permanent cell in that city. There would be a trial, then most likely prison for life.

For the past three days, Gloria had felt as if shead done nothing but answer questionsa"from the police, the FBI, the hordes of reporters. Then there had been visits from her friends. Clara had come every day, sometimes with her editor and sometimes without.

aHopefully my articles will get you out of there soon,a Clara had said earlier that day, leaning against the bars of Gloriaas cell. aNo offense, Glo, but gray is not your color.a aDonat worry, Gloria,a Parker had said. aWith everything Claraas been writing about you, the judges in Chicago will award you some kind of medal before they let you spend another second in prison.a Head given Gloria a tight smilea"she figured he was being casual to calm her nerves about staying in a holding cell.

Truthfully, Gloria liked Parker: He seemed even more intelligent than he was attractive, and that was saying something. But she kept hoping Clara would turn up with Marcus instead. Gloria had been very happy to see Marcus the day after her arrest, but he hadnat been his usual jokey self without Clara.

aMarcus, what happened between you and Clara?a Gloria had asked.

Head smiled a watery shadow of a grin. aWho cares about my depressing tales of lost love? Youave got bigger problems. Figured out how to tunnel outta here yet?a Lorraine had shown up just as Marcus was leaving. aSo, anyway, Iam so, so sorry for what I was going to do, I didnat think Carlito would hurt you, I justa"a Gloria put her hand up. aStop. I will never forgive you for what you did to Clara back in Chicago or what you tried to do here. You were ready to let Carlito kill me and Jerome just because I was mad that you ratted out my affair to Bastian? Because I was angry with you for making such a show about Clara at my party?a aCarlito said he wouldnata"a aNo one is that stupid, Raine, not even you.a Lorraine was silent. Gloria sighed, and then said, aBut like it or not, you saved Jeromeas life and mine. So a thank you.a Lorraine grinned. aAnytime, ma chrie. So a has Hank asked about me?a Gloria had been allowed one tearful telephone call to her mother. Shead expected her mother to be angrya"about her running away, about Jerome, about Tony, about all of ita"but Beatrice had been nothing but happy to talk to her little girl again. Beatrice had arrived in New York a few days earlier and had spent every moment working every connection she had to get Gloria out of jail.

Gloria hadnat heard from Lowell Carmody yet, and she didnat really expect to. Her father had been ready to cut her off when he found out about Jerome. Gloria was pretty sure that on the disapproval ladder, gangster-killing was at least a few rungs above a black fianc.

Her chest tightened at the thought of Jerome.

Along with Vera and Evan, head been barred from visiting her even once since shead been arrested. It was so incredibly unfair. Gloria and Jerome had spent their last month together in New York fighting over their impossible future. And just when theyad decided to make the impossible possible, to go up against the world with only each other as allies, to do everything that love was about, theyad been torn apart.

She sat up quickly when she heard footsteps in the hall.

Agent Hank Phillips appeared outside her cell. At the Opera House, Gloria had thought Hank was twenty or twenty-one. But in his black suit and tan trench coat, with a few daysa stubble on his chin, he looked a little older, maybe twenty-four or twenty-five. Of course, head have to be at least that old if he was an FBI agent.

aHey there, princess,a he said, smiling. aStill pasting up that sc.r.a.pbook of yours?a Gloria shrugged. aNot like Iave got much else to do.a aNow, thatas where youare wrong.a He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket. aWant one?a After days of snarky insults, Hank was being weirdly nice. Still, Gloria hadnat had a cigarette in ages. She stood, and Hank lit two cigarettes. He handed one to her and she took a puff. She ended up coughing. aThese things arenat good for a person.a Hank crossed his arms. Lorraine had told Gloria how Hank had tricked her. Gloria didnat have a lot of love for Lorraine, but the trickery made her dislike Hank even more.

aIave got a proposition,a he said. aYou can sit here in jail, or you can do something for us.a What sort of help could the FBI want from her?

aItas not you weare after, Gloria,a Hank said. aThere are bigger fish to fry. And we can use you to get to them. Iave talked to some folks on your behalf, and weave come up with a deal: If you help us, you go free. If you donat, well aa He took a drag from his cigarette. aBut itas not gonna be easy. Thisall probably be the hardest thing youall ever have to do in your life.a Gloria glanced back at her sc.r.a.pbook, thinking of the last few lines of Claraas article.

So, girls, take heed. Whenever you feel as if youare really pushing the limits, think of Gloria Carmody. Think of all sheas been through and push further, push harder. Fight for what you want, for the people you love. Be a true flappera"be fearless.

Gloria certainly didnat want to spend the rest of her life in jail. She wanted to be with Jerome, to make music with him onstage and in life. And she had better live up to her own example, right?

She looked down at her left ring finger, wishing shead been allowed to keep that one bit of sparkle in this cell. Shead only worn the ring for a few hours, but already her finger felt wrong without it.

The hardest thing she would ever have to do in her life? She had already killed a man, fled her childhood home, lived in poverty, had her heart broken, and been arrested and sent to jail.

What could be harder than that?

Then Gloria realized: living a life without Jerome.

That would be the hardest thing.

She put a hand on her hip and stared Hank straight in the eye.

aWhat do you need me to do?a Jillian Larkinas fascination with flappers and the 1920s began during her childhood, which included frequent home screenings of the cla.s.sic Julie Andrews/Carol Channing film Thoroughly Modern Millie. She lives in New York.

Young. Wealthy. Defiant. Beautiful. Dangerous. Itas 1923 a and anything goes.

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