Until We Meet Again(37)

types, but I suppose that for a banker, money is money. I’m surrounded by sights and sounds, but even still, my mind dwells on Cassandra.

Ned and I sit in a dim, crowded speakeasy, watching the

fellas get edged up while the flappers dance the Charleston,

their short skirts whirling around in glittering streaks of silver

and gold. Ned laughs like old friends with a raven-haired man

in his twenties. He slaps the man on the arm and orders him to

get his associates a few more drinks.

“Swell joint, eh, kid?” Ned says, turning back to me.

“Sure.”

It’s not an enthusiastic response, and Ned gives his nose a

tap. “Ah, I know why you’re not having much fun. Missing a

certain gal?”

I tense a little. “I…”

Ned laughs. “I think I can brighten your night, m’boy.”

His friend arrives with two drinks in hand, and Ned points at

me. “Carlo. Take Lonnie here back to the billiards room. Let’s

show him our little surprise.”

Carlo winks. “Sure thing.”

I’d really rather stay here and wait out the party, but I can see

I have little choice. Ned’s in one of those moods. Reluctantly,

I follow Carlo across the dance floor, weaving past exuberant

dancers who either laugh or drunkenly scold us for getting in

the way. We move down a dark, narrow hall where a few couples have stolen away to smooch.

Finally, Carlo opens a dingy, painted door.

“Right in here,” he says, his voice tinged with a faint accent.

I hesitate. In a joint like this, who knows what could be waiting on the other side. Grinning, Carlo opens the door, grabs my arm, and shoves me in.

The room is dimly lit and filled with the stench of cigarette

smoke and alcohol. Three billiard tables stand in the center,

with smaller poker tables and chairs around the sides. There’s

no one in the room, though the buzz of music from the main

dance hall vibrates the walls. I have no idea what Ned expects

me to find in here.

Then a pair of hands cover my eyes. Soft hands. The scent of

flowered perfume teases my nose. And a breathy voice tickles

my neck.

“Guess who.”

I grab the slender wrists. Pulling the hands from my eyes, I

spin around.

Fay gives me her triumphant little smirk. “Why, hello. Fancy

meeting you here.”

“What are you doing in New York?” I ask, shocked by the

sight of her.

“Neddy sent for me. Said you were being a real flat tire.

Thought you needed some cheering up.”

As I try to process this, Fay slides close to me. Her lips press

to mine, sweet with traces of champagne. I’m still too surprised

by her presence to stop her. She kisses me for a moment and

then steps back. Swaying her hips slightly, she saunters over to

a billiards table and perches herself on it.

“Well? Aren’t you glad to see me?”

“Yes. It’s just that I didn’t expect—”

“I’m not so sure I’m glad to see you, Lon. You’ve been avoiding me awfully.”

“No,

I—”

“Maybe I ought to get myself another beau,” she says, examining her nails. “One who pays me proper attention.”

I come toward her. “Fay.”

“If you really cared, you’d take me out of this awful place and

carry me off somewhere nice.”

“I’d like to—”

“Dandy.” She hops off the table. “What are we waiting for?”

Taking my hand, she leads me back into the dank little hallway and across the crowded dance floor. On the street, bustling with glittering nightlife, she calls for a taxi cab with an ease I

find surprising for an upper-crust North Shore gal.

A questionable-looking jalopy chugs up and Fay pulls me

inside.

“Where should we go?” I ask, still trying to decide how I

feel about her unexpected arrival and her increasingly forward behavior.

“How about the Ritz?” she asks slyly.

“That’s where Ned and I are staying.”

“I know that, silly,” she says, laughing. “Where do you think

Neddy put me up?”

“Oh.”

Fay leans forward and taps the back of the driver’s seat. “To

the Ritz. Make it fast.”

We lurch off, and Fay leans over to face me. The feel of her

smooth lips on my face is familiar and exciting. She pulls my

hand onto her thigh, tantalizingly close to the lacy band of

her stockings. Her actions stir desire in me but also resistance.

What’s gotten into her? She’s always made her interest in me

clear, but never quite this forcefully.

Besides, while I care about Fay, I feel a strange loyalty to

Cassandra. Something passed between us on that beach. Even

if I never see her again, she left an indelible mark on me.

And being with Fay like this, but thinking of Cassandra, is a