The Lion's Den by M.A. Lee

Author:M.A. Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: 1920s, loan shark, jazz age, war veteran, model
Publisher: Writers Ink Books
Published: 2022-09-22T00:00:00+00:00

IV

Bumpy pressed champagne into Filly’s hand. “Have you cast off that bourgeois job? It’s curtailing your life.”

“Not quite. Have you met Jack? Jack Portman.”

The shorter man pressed a crystal coupe on him rather than shake hands. He looked Jack over and smiled. “Maybe.”

“Some time ago. After I was demobbed and for about a year later.”

“That’s it. We should chat later. I can show you a few ins and outs. Unless you’re one of the dull boys. All work and no play.”

Filly rolled her eyes. “Jack still attends Tori’s parties. And Greta’s.”

“Has he fallen as bourgeois as you?”

“Some of us need money, Bumpy.”

He fluttered his lily-white hands. “Don’t dare mention it. Reality is not admitted through that door.”

Filly laughed obligingly then pretended to sip her champagne. When Bumpy’s attention diverted to a willowy man, she grabbed Jack’s elbow and propelled him through the archway. “We don’t have time for diversions.”

“Is our host a diversion?”

She didn’t answer. Although the hour approached ten o’clock, Bumpy still held court in the entrance rather than venturing into the salon.

A piano and a clarinet attempted to overcome the conversations and occasionally won the battle. Once past the people clustered in the archway, she could see the party would be called another success, if success meant packing people as closely as sardines in a tin.

She wiggled around two groups. Jack stayed behind her, past the opening, into the crush, even to the dancers creating a maelstrom on the eddying floor. She saved her glass from being bumped by a gesturing man and diverted around a couple wrapped in a pretense of a dance. “You’re tall. Can you see over everyone?”

“What should I look for?”

“A platinum blonde.”

He scanned the room while remaining obedient to her directional tugs. His coupe was half-full. As she glanced back, she saw it slosh as an unwary elbow tilted it and he didn’t try to rescue it.

“Filly! Filly!”

She stopped.

A dark-haired woman pushed between two groups. “Filly!”

“Rosemary!”

A thin woman fetched up before her. Color high, her red lipstick mussed, she had jittery excitement that explained her bony frame as addiction. Her bobbed hair looked wind-blown. The multicolored sheath turned her figure into a shapeless column. And she eyed Filly’s frock and shawl with critical eyes. “You’ve survived the wars!”

“If by wars, you mean work, you are as bad as Bumpy.” The woman’s glittering eyes fastened on the tall man at Filly’s shoulder. She sighed. “Rosemary, may I introduce you to Jack Portman? Jack, this is Rosemary Sibell.”

“Stuffy Filly! Always obeying the forms” Rosemary offered her hand to Jack. Rings glittered on her fingers and a flashy bracelet hung from her bony wrist. He stared at it then at Filly before he took the fingers and gave the briefest bow. “Oh, I like him! Where did you find him, Filly?”

She cast for several explanations and decided on “In a pub.”

Rosemary gave a high titter. “Does Bumpy know?”

“Should Bumpy know?” Jack interposed before Filly answered.

“I do like you.”

“We’ve met, Miss Sibell. At New Year’s.”

“Call me Rosemary. Especially since we’re already friends.

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