Speak Easy, Speak Love by McKelle George

Author:McKelle George
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-08-11T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 16

SHALL I NEVER SEE A BACHELOR OF THREE-SCORE AGAIN?

Benedick turned over on his cot, feeling more or less like the last tulip in spring. Last night they’d opened the joint up again, but unlike at the Masquerade, he’d stayed dry as a corn husk. He usually did. There were only so many mornings one could wake up having been chewed up and spit out by that great noble experiment of Prohibition.

All in all, it had been a success: enough people to fill the room and enough booze to fill the people. Of course Benedick thought they owed a sizable chunk of their attendance to a flock of gossipers who had come to see for themselves where Claude Blaine had ventured off when he didn’t show up at the Vanderbilts as he was supposed to, and the rest didn’t properly count because Leo and Father Francis let vets drink free because of Decoration Day. But there had been a party for the second weekend in a row, and that was a victory.

Besides, his lousy mood had nothing to do with the speakeasy. Fair or not, he was placing 100 percent of the blame on an opinionated little twerp named Beatrice Clark.

Ye gods, his room was boiling, and it was only morning.

And stuffy.

Just like my writing, he thought miserably, turning over, not bothered enough to get up to open the window.

Someone pounded on his door. So raucous and demanding it had to be Beatrice, but of course she wouldn’t knock at all, would she?

“Ben!” The door opened and filled all the way a moment later with Leonard Stahr. “Good morning!” he bellowed.

Benedick sat up, stared at him, speechless. “Is it?” he asked eventually.

“You bet your ass. Get up; we’re going into the city. It’s ten already, and you’re not even dressed.”

Benedick did as he was told—not that there was much choice. Had he hesitated too long, Leo might have tugged his pants on for him. He hadn’t seen Leo like this for months. This was the man he’d first met, eyes clear and hungry, the entrepreneur husband of Hey Nonny Nonny’s hostess.

“What are we doing in the city?” Benedick asked, once he’d exited the washroom. (Leo had serenaded the proceedings, which had not made Benedick go any faster but had given Leo a good laugh.)

“First, we’ve got to collect Prince,” said Leo. “At this hour he’s probably grinding away somewhere, but both the cars are here, so he can’t have gotten too far.”

Of course. Prince, the beast of burden; Benedick, the parasite. Benedick had once stupidly envisioned pitching in with the money he’d make selling his short stories, one by one, editors lapping them up as fast as he could type them. He muttered, “But what do you need me for?”

“Ben—” Leo set his hand on Benedick’s shoulder; his palm, heavy and sure, nearly covered it. When he was fully upright, Leo was near to the same size as Benedick’s lionlike father, only Leo was more a bumbling bear than a cat of prey.

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