The Glittering Life of Evie Mckenzie Page 5

  ‘Butt?’ she asked, offering Chuck a cigarette.

  He shook his head.

  ‘Thanks for the light,’ she said. ‘Yeah. I think I know what I need to know.’

  They found a cab and rode together in silence.

  Tug studied Chuck’s face as they moved through the streets in the bouncing car. He was handsome, she thought. She smiled when he caught her gazing at him and pulled her eyes away, a warm blush creeping up her cheeks. Tug had never really thought of Chuck that way. She’d been distracted by her silly crush on Roger. But she had no doubt that Chuck would soon have some society girl planning a big wedding, too. Her perspective on a few things had shifted tonight.

  Chapter Seven

  Evie

  Evie sat through her classes feeling confused. Seeing Jack had stirred something within her, left her feeling dissatisfied. She arrived at the lecture hall for her last class of the afternoon and took a seat near the back, her gloom hanging low around her like a veil. She stared at the ring on her hand and gazed around at the room as students arrived. Wasn’t she where she wanted to be? She had fought for the chance to go to college. She’d been proposed to by the man of her choice, and she was slowly building a career as a journalist – even if she was beginning with gossip, a fact that she wasn’t altogether proud of. Still, Tobias loved her work, and the latest column about Babe Ruth’s carousing had him practically leaping from his seat as he read. She should be happy. Content, at least. But she wasn’t. Something was missing.

  She was somewhat nervous about this particular class. Her previous teacher had announced before the spring break that she would not be returning, and that her class would be assumed by a new teacher at the University, though she hadn’t mentioned a name. Evie hoped the new professor would be a good teacher.

  ‘Take your seats please,’ a rich deep voice rolled across the room from the podium at the front, and Evie’s attention immediately shifted. ‘We have quite a bit to cover this semester. Let’s begin.’

  There were still students standing in the rows ahead of her, and the professor was blocked from her view, but Evie’s body seemed to know exactly who would be teaching her poetry course this semester. A snapping electricity filled the air, and every muscle in Evie’s body tightened when she heard that voice. By the time the voice moved through the room again, announcing his name, Evie already knew.

  ‘I’m Professor Taylor,’ he said, just as the man in front of her took his seat.

  Evie knew that when she was able to see the front of the room, she would find Jack Taylor standing there, impossibly. But when her eyes fell on the lean graceful form of the man who only a few months ago had known her in some very compromising ways … Evie wasn’t prepared for the heat that rose within her. She scrambled mentally for a recourse. Should she leave? Getting up and rushing out would surely cause a commotion – and then Jack would see her. But staying? Taking a class with Jack as her instructor? She didn’t know if she could possibly manage it. Without thinking, she began to fan herself with her syllabus, and then cursed herself. The motion had pulled Jack’s eyes directly to where she sat.

  A sly smile pulled itself across Jack’s face, and the icy eyes danced. He looked pleased to find Evie in his class, or maybe he was pleased to see her so clearly out of sorts. He gave a quick nod of his head, an acknowledgment, and then went on speaking.

  Watching Jack prowl the front of the lecture hall for an hour, letting his smooth low tenor wash through her for that amount of time, had Evie’s entire body buzzing by the time class had ended. She was just as confused as it finished as she had been when it had started. She was so worked up she wasn’t sure she could walk properly. He mind spun and her limbs felt separate from her body. Somehow, she took herself out to the curb where Buck waited with the car.

  ‘Miss Evie, you look … are you sick?’ Buck took her books and helped her into the car.

  ‘No, Bucky. I’m fine. Just … overwhelmed is all.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Buck said, sounding uncertain.

  ‘Don’t tell my mother you found me this way, all right? She’ll think it’s proof that college is too much for me.’

  ‘Of course I won’t, Evie.’

  Buck drove her home, and Evie closed her eyes, laying her head against the cool window. The only image that seemed to reside behind her eyelids was that of the glacier blue eyes and perfect lips that belonged to Jack Taylor – eyes and lips that she had been sure she was through imagining.

  *****

  Roger and his parents joined Evie’s family for dinner Friday evening at their townhouse. Roger’s father was an exact replica of Roger – just several decades advanced. The pile of wavy dark hair that Evie loved on Roger was the same, just a silvery shade of gray. And they shared the same easy smile and quick mind. Roger’s mother was a tall thin woman, also easy-going and quick to smile. Quite different from Evie’s own mother, who fussed and worried constantly.

  At dinner, Roger took her hand frequently and smiled, kissing her cheek several times. When he looked at her with those dark eyes, Evie’s stomach jumped, but she was beginning to feel more guilty than giddy. When he put an arm around her shoulders and breathed into her ear, she got goosebumps and a wicked warmth crept between her legs. But when Roger turned his attention back to his meal, she wondered if her reaction was to him, or to her inability to stop imagining Jack Taylor sitting next to her, touching her. She hated herself for being so rattled by Jack’s reappearance, and Roger certainly didn’t deserve such disloyalty. As they moved to the sitting room for scotch after dinner, she tried to force her dallying mind to behave.

  ‘We’ve found a lovely townhome,’ said Mrs White, smiling at Roger and Evie. ‘I had planned to just give you the keys at the wedding, but I’m so excited, I don’t think I can wait.’

  Evie jolted forward in surprise. ‘For us?’ she cried. ‘You bought us a house?’

  ‘Really, Evie,’ her mother scolded. Mrs McKenzie had rules about how one should react to gifts and discussions of money. Her general logic was that you should never act as if money were something worthy of excitement. A hard rule to follow when someone has just given you a house.

  Roger laughed. ‘It was going to be a surprise,’ he said to Evie. ‘It was Mother’s idea, but we’ve been looking together. We’ll need a place to live, darling!’

  ‘Of course,’ Evie said. ‘How wonderful. Thank you so much.’

  ‘Would you like to see it?’ Mrs White asked. ‘I can arrange for us to visit this weekend. If Roger doesn’t have to work unreasonable hours at that investment firm of his, anyway.’ Roger had still not told his family about his actual employment. Chuck’s father had given both Roger and Chuck a promise of employment at his investment firm downtown, and had begun training them when they were available. Roger used the firm as cover for the time he spent at Evie’s, and his parents never seemed to question it.

  ‘I think I can find the time,’ Roger smiled.

  ‘I’d love to,’ Evie said. The talk of a real home had brought her back to reality somehow. She couldn’t fantasize about the rogue she’d once known. Jack Taylor had no place in her real life. She squeezed Roger’s hand in excitement.

  *****

  Around town, people were beginning to talk about the Manhattan Mouse. Evie had heard girls in one of her lectures discussing the exciting life that the Mouse must live, to be privy to the secrets that were exposed each week in the column.

  ‘Did you see today’s?’ One girl pulled the paper from her bag in the row just ahead of Evie.

  ‘No, let me see!’ The other girl snatched the paper from her friend and opened it eagerly, then began to read aloud. ‘The upcoming nuptials of Miss Evelyn McKenzie and Mr Roger White have been cemented with a promise more firm than any ring. The pair are the proud owners of an Upper East Side townhome seated nicely near the park. From their new abode, this high-society duo will no doubt have a flock of children at their heels soon after the knot is firmly tied. Miss McK
enzie is currently a student at New York University, where she studies journalism. Mr White is finishing his last year at Yale, and is slated to be a junior investor at a firm on Water Street.’ Both girls turned to eye Evie, but quickly turned back around when she caught them looking at her.

  Evie still hated this column. Tobias had assigned her a topic, not something he normally did. But he had gotten wind of the wedding, and for some reason, he had a fixation on high-society marriages and debutantes, and asked Evie to cover this particular pair. At least she hadn’t had to do much research.

  The girl kept reading, though, and Evie gasped as the next part was read aloud to anyone close enough to listen.

  ‘White’s false front is shakily constructed, however, as it is common knowledge that he runs the quiet club on Midtown’s east side, which used to go by the name “The White House.” The name of the club was changed last winter, when this moneyed duo became a couple, and now Yalies who have grown tired of the wood paneling at the storied Yale Club have another place to imbibe – Evie’s.

  ‘White and his business partner may be advising clients about where to invest their money from behind the bar top, but this mouse suspects that they are simply taking their clients’ money instead.’

  Evie stood abruptly, attracting the attention of the students sitting around her. Class was about to begin, and the professor up front glared at her. ‘If you’ll take your seats,’ she said, looking at Evie.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I have to …’ Evie gathered her things and raced from the room. She hurried at a near run to the Herald Tribune offices, bursting into Tobias’s office without announcement.

  ‘Mouse,’ he smiled after looking momentarily surprised.

  ‘What did you do?’ she asked.

  ‘I added a bit. I didn’t think your latest effort was up to par. Your readers are looking for dirt, Mouse. Not architectural descriptions.’

  ‘You outed Roger White? What will his family think?’

  ‘That isn’t our concern. We’re in the business of selling papers, or have you become distracted with other things?’ He smiled in a way that made Evie think he knew exactly who she was, though he’d never admitted it. Did he realize what he’d done in revealing Roger’s club? ‘Do you think this column has gotten a bit too rough for you to write, Mouse?’

  Did he want her to quit? ‘No!’ she said. ‘But I just …’

  ‘You just what?’

  ‘Nothing. I just didn’t expect you to write it for me.’

  ‘Well, I expect you to give us the same kind of dirt you came up with the first few columns. Not this lightweight drivel.’

  ‘I’ll do better.’

  ‘You better, ‘cuz if I wanted to write it, I wouldn’t be paying you. Speaking of which, I’m only giving you ten cents for this last one since I had to write most of it.’

  Evie’s heart sank. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘The convention’s coming up in a month,’ he said. ‘Get me some good stuff on the politicos. I hear the Klan’s coming to town – there’s gotta be something there. Or see if you can catch McAdoo or one of his teetotaling drys out at the speaks.’

  ‘Yes sir.’ The upcoming Democratic National Convention had been the fodder of the straight news for some time, as a heated contest was at work between the leading contenders, William McAdoo and Governor Al Smith, the Catholic frontrunner and committed anti-Prohibition candidate. McAdoo’s southern roots and belief in ‘nativism’ had mobilized the Klan, and the hooded rank and file of that organization were expected to appear in some numbers at the upcoming convention.

  Evie left Tobias’s office wondering how she could do what he asked, but more concerned about the fallout from what he’d done on her behalf. She met Buck at the curb outside school and asked him to take her home.

  She called the club when she arrived, hoping Roger would have come in from school that afternoon. Tug answered. ‘Roger hasn’t been around during the day. He’s working on a couple things, but he should be here tonight, Evie.’

  ‘Thanks, Tug.’

  ‘Everything all right? You sound glum.’

  ‘Hey, have things been … different around there at all?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Tug sounded different, but Evie couldn’t put her finger on exactly what it was.

  ‘Never mind. I’ll be around soon and talk to you then.’

  ‘Sure thing!’ Tug hung up quickly, and Evie held the receiver for a while, wondering how to fix whatever damage the column had done. She wanted to go straight to the club that night, but her mother had made plans for her to dine with another deb who had married just a few years before. Evidently, she’d had the wedding of the century and, of course, Evie’s mother had to top it.

  Chapter Eight

  Tug

  Tug returned home after her second visit with Texas Guinan full of ideas for the club – and a few for herself. But she needed some help. She recruited Janie the next morning.

  ‘You want me to do what?’ Janie looked appalled as she held the bottle of hair dye in her hand. ‘Have you lost your marbles?’

  ‘Don’t be a Mrs Grundy. It’s perfectly safe. Tons of girls do it now.’

  ‘But I never have. I don’t have the first idea how to help you!’

  ‘Just read the directions. Come on.’

  Several hours later, Tug stood before the mirror at her vanity, admiring her newly dyed hair.

  ‘Is it a bit bright?’ Janie looked uncertain.

  ‘Nah, it’s perfect.’ Tug felt like a new woman. She painted on a dark red lipstick and looked at herself in the mirror. ‘I look older, more sophisticated.’

  ‘I liked you with brown hair, Tug.’ Janie looked sad.

  Tug turned on her stool and looked up at her friend. ‘Thanks for helping me, Janie.’ When the other girl still looked upset she added, ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No.’ Janie shook her head, but the troubled look didn’t leave her face. ‘Yes. I mean …’ She sat down heavily on Tug’s bed. ‘It’s silly. It’s just, with Evie headed for the middle aisle with Roger, and you’re turning into this sophisticated businesswoman. I just can’t help feeling like I’m getting left behind somehow.’

  Tug’s heart sank, and she sat down next to her friend. ‘Oh, Jane. No, sweetheart! You just haven’t found your game yet. There’s still plenty of time.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s true.’ Janie plucked at the yarn on Tug’s quilt.

  ‘Sure there is! What do you want to do, honey?’

  ‘I don’t even know.’

  ‘Of course you do. Look way down deep inside and see what feels right. Do you want to get married? Have some kids? Or go to school maybe? Become one of those fancy typewriter girls down at the big firms? Or maybe a teacher?’ Tug was getting excited thinking about the prospects for her friend. To Tug, the future was wide open.

  But Janie didn’t see it that way. ‘My parents would never let me work,’ she sniffed.

  ‘But you’re nineteen years old, Jane! You’ve got to take a stand. It’s your life.’

  ‘I know, but … sometimes I just wish I could be someone else, you know?’

  Tug nodded. She did. She knew that feeling better than anyone. There were times when jealousy got the better of her and she would have traded places with Evie in a heartbeat. ‘Well, you can,’ she said. ‘Kind of. I mean, look at me! I’m a redhead now!’

  ‘I don’t mean I wish I could look like someone else. I just wish I could take on a new life, try being something different than timid Jane.’

  An idea struck Tug, though she doubted her friend would go for it. ‘Well there is one thing …’

  Janie’s eyebrows lifted as she looked up. ‘There is? What?’

  ‘Can you dance at all, Jane?’

  It took an hour of convincing, but at the end of the afternoon, Tug had convinced Janie to reinvent herself – at least for three nights a week. She would be a showgirl at Evie’s. They agreed not to tell anyone ahead of time. Since Jane neve
r painted her face, and certainly wouldn’t be caught out in a revealing outfit, they decided there was little chance she’d even be recognized when she was onstage. And for three nights a week, she could adopt an entirely new persona.

  ‘I can’t wait!’ Janie cried as she hugged her friend goodbye. ‘And I do love your hair, Tug. It’s really swell.’

  *****

  Chuck had taken charge of helping the band adapt to the more up-tempo style that they’d need for Tug’s reinvention of the club. In the meantime, Tug had been hijacking auditions along the Great White Way, lingering outside theater doors and cozying up to girls exiting with masks of disappointment or tears advertising their potential availability. She might not have gotten the cream of the crop, but Tug found twelve dancers who were eager for work. Eleven, actually, since Janie was her first.

  The girls rehearsed twice while Roger and Chuck were not at the club. Tug arranged for the band to come in during the mornings, and the dancers managed to organize themselves into a semblance of a corps. One girl, Lucille, took charge naturally, and Tug let her – smiling encouragingly as she suggested steps and combinations to match the music. As an added bonus, Tug learned that two of her Broadway rejects could sing some of the sultry tunes that she had heard in the other clubs. She put together a program of sorts, an order of the numbers the band would play and stage directions for the dancers. And though it was thrown together and not quite polished, she had a show. Her girls would be ready to begin the following week, except that Tug had still not managed to pull together costumes for them.

  ‘I’ve got an aunt who sews for the Follies,’ a tall lean girl in the back of the group told Tug when she voiced the issue to her cast.

  ‘Well why didn’t you say so?’ Tug asked. ‘Do you think she could help?’

  ‘I could ask her,’ the girl said with a broad smile. ‘I’ve always been her favorite.’

  ‘That’d be swell. Maybe she could get her hands on some cast offs, or spare something they don’t use much? Something a bit revealing?’