Princes of the Lower East Side: A 1920s Mafia Thriller (A Scalisi Family Novel) by Meredith Allison

Author:Meredith Allison [Allison, Meredith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Persnickety Publishing
Published: 2019-10-27T16:00:00+00:00

Never let ’em see you sweat.

The bourbon, however, had other ideas. She’d wanted to be warm—well, she was absolutely glowing now. Two and a half drinks were child’s play on most nights, but her heightened nerves—ah, there they are—and the unpleasant scene with Gloria had given the alcohol a boost she hadn’t counted on.

Nonetheless, she was a professional. Had been since age eleven, and one of the old vaudeville starlets told her that a bee could fly into her bloomers and sting her where the sun didn’t shine, and not a single person in that audience should ever know something was amiss.

The first three songs of her set went smoothly enough. They opened with the mid-tempo “I’m Goin’ South,” then slid right into “I’m Nobody’s Baby,” which rolled into “I Ain’t Got Nobody.”

Mia’s voice carried nicely through the large room, as though it had been built with that in mind. The ceiling had a dome shape to it, allowing her voice to slide along the curves and shower down over the crowd.

The club had been designed with meticulous care. The floor was the same dark marble as in her dressing room, the tables made of glossy cherrywood as dark as could be found, and draped with crisp, white linens. Roman columns lined either side of the room, and she knew from closely examining them that they were made of pure ivory.

The walls had been painted with murals to resemble those found on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, but instead of featuring God, they showed scenes involving each of the Greek gods and goddesses in their most divine moments.

And Annette had not lied—the club was absolutely packed.

A cursory glance from side to side as she’d sung the first few numbers had shown her quite a few famous and familiar faces—Lucky Luciano and his business partner, Meyer Lansky, were in the crowd, sitting with Frankie Yale at a large table. Charlie and Moritz had joined them, with Will Wyatt in tow. Gloria and Raquel sat with them, Gloria beside Frankie and Raquel seated beside Will.

Mia also spotted Governor Smith and his crony Senator Robinson in the crowd with very young women on their arms that could not possibly have been their wives.

Now it was time to change into her dance number and bring out The Divine Angels. The chorus line was made up of seasoned dancers, some of whom had danced with Ziegfeld, though why they’d left his troupe for Hyman’s was a mystery. They were polite with Mia, but not friendly.

Mia’s dance costume was certainly beautiful—a short, snug silver dress with crystal fringe, with a bodice of netting and more crystals coating the straps and down the front to catch the light—but it scratched her terribly all over where it touched her skin. The dancers’ costumes were similar but much scantier, though elegant. None of them seemed to be struggling against the urge to scratch violently at themselves.

Hyman had hired a choreographer from Broadway to work up some special routines.

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