I went to the Spadros Ladies’ Room just off the ballroom and found Amelia to get another smoke.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” Amelia said.
“Certainly.” I sat and let Amelia light my cigarette, while the attendants fussed with my gown and hair.
Why was Joseph Kerr here, now, tonight, of all nights? Where had he been all these years? Why had he never sent one word? I took a drag, and tried to blow away the melancholy in smoke.
The wind blew chill beside Benjamin Kerr’s statue, broken upon the ground. Burns and ax-marks and hateful words decorated it.
Joe stared at the ruin. “My ancestor.” He surveyed the shattered plaza. “One day this place could be good, like he made it. No more cold, no more rags.” He took my hands in his. “I love you, Jacqui. I want you by me when all this is set right. Will you have me?”
“I will.” I kissed his hands. “But how can I? I’m to marry his boy.”
Joe turned away. “My daddy’s old man has money, I seen it. We can go on the zeppelin, far from here. Just think, Jacqui … we’ll be free.”
That was six years ago. I believed Joe, and gave him all a girl had to give a man.
That night, my mother woke me. She put me into a carriage with people I had never met, to live with people who had only disdain for me.
Roy Spadros said if I set foot in the Spadros portion of the Pot again, he would burn Ma’s cathedral with everyone in it.
I never saw Joe again, until tonight.
I still loved him.
I put out the cigarette and went to the door.
“… smoking again … shocking behavior … not sure why the Family puts up with it … what do you expect from a Pot rag …?”
I opened the door; a few old biddies stood along the wall. One hushed the other, but I strolled to the closest table as if I heard nothing.
A handsome, brooding man sang, while the orchestra played a slow song of young love thwarted.
I listened to the man sing, desperately trying to hold the pain back. A waiter passed with a drink tray, and I took a glass, not caring what it held.
The music died away, and there was applause.
“I’m sorry, Jacqui.” That beloved voice behind me held true sorrow, but I dared not turn, not even for my dearest friend.
Jonathan Diamond walked around to face me, and bent to gaze at my down-turned face. “What’s this?”
I brushed at my eyes. “Nothing.”
He took my left hand and kissed it. “You knew this would happen sooner or later. I’m sorry it was tonight.” He took a step back, the ever-present small brown velvet bag of vials at his left hip clinking. “You look absolutely beautiful.”
Jonathan Courtenay Diamond was a tall, handsome man of twenty and six. The youngest of the Diamond sons, Jon had an easy air and fine manners, so unlike his father. He wore a forest green tuxedo and a black cravat pinned with his Family’s symbol. His normally tight-coiled hair he wore neatly pressed, parted just right of center. “You look quite dashing, Jon.”
He beamed at me, and I do believe he blushed. “Thank you!”
For some reason, his blush made me feel better. I raised my glass to him and drained it. “I wish I could get drunk and forget everything, like everyone else seems to.”
Jonathan chuckled. “It’s not as fun as it sounds, sweet girl, especially the next morning.”
His tone of voice made me smile, just like always.
“I wish I could chat, dearest. But I must make the rounds.” He winked. “Duty calls.”
I set the empty glass on the table and returned to my seat. Perhaps I could survive this night after all.
* * *
After some time, Joseph and Josephine Kerr arrived at our table. We rose to greet them. Joe wore a dark burgundy tuxedo, while Josie wore a burgundy gown trimmed in white. They took dressing alike as a challenge; when we were young, they would do (or steal) anything to match.
Josephine’s blond curls cascaded down one side of her perfect face beneath a rose-colored half-veil. I took her hand. “The goddess approaches! Radiant, as always.”
She blushed. “You look lovely, too, Mrs. Spadros,” emphasizing my title, “And I would love to get the name of your dressmaker!”
“I will have my maid Amelia send you a card.”
“I would be delighted!” Josephine clapped her white gloved hands. I thought this played the ingenue a bit too far, considering she was a year older than I.
Joe took my hand and kissed it, his eyes meeting mine. “Charmed to see you again.”
Oh, my … he was stunning.
“I didn’t know you were acquainted,” Tony said.
I smiled at him. “Childhood friends.”
Tony paused, puzzlement on his face. “Ah, yes.”
Evidently he had forgotten my past. No one else seemed to.
Tony shook Joe’s hand. “Then you’re most welcome here.”
The twins beamed at him. Josephine had a gorgeous smile, but Joe’s lit the room. His smile held happiness and freedom, life and contentment, a smile usually only seen in small children.
No one who smiled like that could ever be false.
“It’s so grand to be welcomed,” Josephine said. “We adore these parties, don’t we, Joe?”
Joe gazed fondly at his sister. “We do.” He turned to Tony. “We meet such fascinating people.”
Tony seemed at a loss for words. I took Tony’s arm, heart pounding, and spoke to Joe, trying to keep my tone light. “Is your grandfather well?”
Joe focused on Tony, yet spoke loud enough so anyone could hear. “He’s 87 now. Putters around in his garden, his library. Josie takes care of him these days.”
Tony put his arm around me. “The old have earned relaxing afternoons. I suppose we’ll see those if we live long enough.”
The rest of the table laughed. The twins excused themselves, promising to return once their “duties” were through.
“They seem a pleasant pair,” Tony said.
One of his newer Associates came to the table. Reeking of alcohol, he laughed in derision, his words slurring. “A couple of gods-damned Pot rags, daring to show their faces around decent folk. Shameful.”
Tony frowned. “That will be quite enough.”
All eyes were on me, except for Major Blackwood. “Well, if they’re Pot rags, they’re certainly delightful ones.”
I laughed at the Major’s oblivious cheek. Everyone followed.
Tony turned to me. “I will have that man gone.”
I shrugged. “I find his honesty refreshing.”
Tony frowned and shook his head. “I won’t have such a man in my service. He insults you, or your friends, he insults me. He insults the Family that raised him up.”
Tony turned to his right-hand man, an imposing fellow they called Sawbuck, and spoke in his ear. Sawbuck stood, whispered to a couple others, then gestured to the new man. They all left.
This new man would be found floating in the river. He probably wouldn’t even learn why. Such was life in the Business: fast to rise, just as fast to fall.
Every time Tony did something like this, though, I found it disturbing. “Why should a man die for having an opinion?”
“My men must be devoted to this Family.” Tony’s voice was pitched to carry. “All of this Family. If he can’t be loyal there are many others who will.”
It seemed no one wanted to speak first after that.
After the next song completed and the loudspeaker died away, I said, “I could use some air.”
We moved down a red-carpeted hall to the Spadros train platform. Two of his men, watching everyone and everything but us, followed at a distance. This train entry allowed us private entry to the opera, government areas, and so on.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Mighty columns held the level above us, with large copper pipes running overhead. We sat at a table in the black and white tiled area. Tony had my cigarettes with him, and he gave me a light. “I apologize for my man’s conduct.”
I waved it away. “I told you, it was nothing.”
“I want nothing more than for you to be happy.”
This surprised me. “That is very kind of you.”
The buzz of the other tables echoed in the platform, the music and loudspeaker faint in the distance.
“I hope we can someday live without violence.” Tony’s voice was tense, as if he were in pain. “My greatest aspiration is to leave our children a peaceful future and a business worthy of respect.”
I had never heard such words from him before.
“If I show mercy it’s seen as weakness, by both my father and my men. But with each act of cruelty and retribution, I fear I’m signing my death warrant.”
I put my hand on his. Talk of death always brought my situation — or rather, my probable situation — to mind. I hoped a paying case presented itself soon.
The danger to Tony seemed ever-present. Most men in the Business met a violent end. Should Tony die, his estate would revert to his father, Roy Spadros, who would have no further use for me. I would be without protection. It was part of what drove me to go out on a rainy New Year’s Eve to secretly meet a client.
I took a deep breath and let it out. I had to prepare for when the inevitable occurred. If I became an independent woman of means, I could hire bodyguards until I left the city. I had saved a small amount from my household allowance plus my business over the past few years. But not enough to hire guards or even buy a zeppelin ticket, should the worst come to pass.
I hoped it never would. While I didn’t love Tony, except perhaps in a platonic manner, I wished no harm upon him.
Tony stood. “Enough of this. You’re too beautiful for me to spoil the evening with melancholy. Want to return to the party?”
I put out my cigarette. “I would love to.”
Our table had been abandoned. Major Blackwood sat at another table, laughing with a different set of ladies. Tony’s men sat at various other tables with their dance partners.
We sat at the end of our original table, which held a few Clubb retainers at the other end. The waiter came round, and we ordered more drinks.
“I fear this will be the last drink for me,” Tony said.
“We have a carriage to take us home.”
“Yes, but I would like to be taken home alive.”
I chuckled, patting his hand. He smiled, face flushed, and pulled my chair closer as we watched the dancers. He put his arm around me and began kissing my ear.
I found this quite intriguing.
We had been back about ten minutes when the announcer said: “MASTER JACK ROLAND DIAMOND THE THIRD”
The room went silent. I turned to face the staircase, and my heart was pounding with fear, my mouth dry.
Black Jack.
The man in my nightmares since that terrible evening ten years ago descended the stairs, head shaven, dressed in white. His glare cut across the room to settle on me, and my blood froze at the malevolence in his eyes.
My stomach knotted; my hands began to shake.
Jack Diamond was Jonathan Diamond’s identical twin, but all similarity stopped at skin level. Where Jonathan was kind, Jack spoke harshly. Jonathan was warm-hearted; Jack, bitter and grasping. Jonathan wore whatever fashion dictated. Jack only wore white, even to the soles of his shoes, no matter what the event or the weather.
Black Jack was not named so for his black hair and eyes. Nor for his skin, which, like all in the Diamond family, was such a dark brown as to be close to black. He earned this name from childhood for his rages, his cruelty, his mysterious disappearances and the terrible rumors which followed them: girls murdered, men tortured, a head found on a pier.
All sort of evil was attributed to Black Jack Diamond: whether truth or fiction, few knew. All I know is he promised if he ever laid hands on me, it would be my last painful day.
And I believed him.
“I feared he would be here tonight,” Jonathan Diamond said.
Tony stood, shaking hands with a smile. “Jon! How are you?”
“Well enough, but the weather has inflamed my joints. I carry this these days.” Jonathan brandished a black walking stick topped with silver.
How had I not seen his cane before this?
“My poor benighted brother fears he is forgotten,” Jonathan said, compassion in his voice, “so he makes his appearance. I sincerely hope he doesn’t cause you alarm.”
Tony pulled a chair away from the table. “Please join us.” So Jonathan sat.
A waiter came up. “Some wine, sir?”
Jonathan said, “Tea and milk, if you please.” Jon never drank alcohol, and I often wondered why.
By this time, Jack Diamond had descended the stairs and disappeared into the crowd.
* * *
I danced several turns with Tony (the first few, rather unsteady on his part) and a few with Lance Clubb while Tony and Jonathan sat talking.
Though Lance was a year older than I, he seemed younger somehow. Like most this season, he wore a dark brown tuxedo with brass buttons.
Lance Clubb appeared intrigued at my conversations with Jonathan. During the second set, he asked if he might one day be introduced to Jonathan’s younger sister, Gardena …
… who was both beautiful and unmarried.
After Lance Clubb escorted me to my chair and moved on, I whispered to Tony, “Mystery solved.”
Tony seemed pleased his guess had been correct.
After sipping wine with Tony (who seemed to have forgotten his earlier words), I took a lively turn with Charles Hart. Although portly and seventy, he was a excellent dancer. Roy had left the room, which was probably why Mr. Hart chose this time to dance with me.
“You were a good pick for Anthony,” Mr. Hart said. “I’m glad you two are happy.”
“Why, Mr. Hart, we’ve been married three years now. Of course, we’re happy.”
“So why no children?”
Turning my head, I glimpsed Jack Diamond across the room watching me. His eyes met mine: I shuddered at the hate in them.
The music was ending. I felt unsure of how to reply to Mr. Hart. “Is that proper to ask a married woman?”
Mr. Hart roared with laughter; everyone standing nearby turned and stared. Then he put his hand on my bare shoulder. “My dear, you are magnificent. You honestly don’t know. It’s a sincere pleasure to finally get to know you. I hope Anthony realizes what a prize he has.”
“Why thank you, sir.” I wondered what he found so funny. At the time, I thought the man was drunk.
As Charles Hart escorted me to my seat, a shout, then a loud commotion came from behind, drawing ever closer.
I didn’t turn or give any other sign I heard, but I marked the sound’s passage as we strolled along. When we neared Tony, he stood, gazing past me with concern. I turned to see Jack Diamond storming towards us from halfway across the room. My stomach churned, although I steeled myself not to show it.
The music, which had begun again, stopped.
Ten paces away, Jack Diamond struggled to free himself from the men from various Families who restrained him. “Let me go!” His voice, deeper than his brother Jonathan’s, carried well.
Tony said loudly, “Let the man have his say.”
Jack Diamond approached to three paces away. “You may have forgotten, Spadros, but I have not. I will never forget. I will not be ignored, and I will not be mocked. I call vengeance on your house and on the scum you shelter and protect, who murdered my own.”
A brown-haired man I didn’t recognize dashed towards us, shouting urgently. The gunshot echoed down the street; the man collapsed, ten yards away.
Jack Diamond galloped up bareback on one of his father’s white horses. Rushing to the brown-haired man, he held him in his arms, shocked and disbelieving. Jack’s face crumpled in grief, kneeling in the frozen mud and filth. He laid his head on the man’s chest, sobbing.
They say though he was cruel and reckless before, that night drove Jack Diamond mad.
Tony shook his head. “Diamond, this,” he waved his hand to encompass the hall, “is neutral territory. Ten years has passed since your man’s death. Has there not been enough suffering?” He paused. “Do you really want war between our Families? Is that what you truly desire?”
Jack Diamond hesitated, then took a step forward, pointing at me. It took every ounce of courage I had not to shrink from his approach. I would not give him the satisfaction.
“I want her father, dead! I want her family to pay for my brother’s murder —”
“He was not our brother,” Jonathan said mildly, standing next to and a bit in front of me.
“And you — you drink with his murderers! Look at you! Traitor! Scoundrel!” Jack lunged at Jonathan, who took a step back, eyes widening in alarm.
“No!” I felt horrified at the thought of Jack hurting him.
Tony pulled me out of Jack’s path and advanced upon him. “You dare threaten my wife?”
Joseph Kerr drew Jack away, whispering to him. Jack Diamond’s demeanor changed at once; he smiled and let himself be led off.
Jack Diamond had quite a different look when his father and five older brothers dragged him from the room.
I found that most entertaining.
Tony turned to me, shaken. “Are you all right?”
I nodded, but I felt my voice trembled more than it should. “Perhaps the man has had too much Party Time.”
Party Time: colorless, odorless, tastes like cinnamon sugar. The one thing still illegal in this rat-hole, yet the one thing everyone wants. The fact it’s illegal let us live like kings.
Jack showed no signs of being on Party Time. Rather, he seemed a coward and a bully. Jack hated my father, who he couldn’t touch, since Roy protected him. So he shouted at me and at his brother. It was shameful; he would never have dared such a display with Roy Spadros in the room.
The music resumed. I got another drink and leaned back in my chair, trying to calm myself. My hands shook as I drained the glass. I set it down and turned away to hide my stinging eyes.
“I apologize for my brother’s outburst,” Jonathan said. “Thank heavens Joseph Kerr was there to calm him. I wonder what clever words the man found to turn his anger.”
I wondered about this as well.
How did Jonathan come to meet Joe, or Joe to meet Jack?
“I owe Master Kerr a debt,” Tony said.
“Indeed,” Charles Hart said.
I forgot the man stood there and witnessed everything.
I felt embarrassed at him seeing our trials and glad for a chance at hospitality. “Mr. Hart, please join us.”
Charles Hart glanced at Tony, who said, “Yes, please do.”
Mr. Hart sat; a servant brought him some wine.
“Are you enjoying your evening?” Tony said.
“Come to mention it, yes!” Mr. Hart said. “The evening has been most entertaining.”
We laughed, and the thudding of my heart slowed. I thought I might not get another chance to ask, so I did.
“Sir,” I said to Mr. Hart, “forgive me, but this brings to mind something I saw today: a strange stamp on a wall, a silhouette of a dog, all in red. Since your Family’s color is red, I wondered if you had knowledge of it.”
Mr. Hart shook his head, his eyes not meeting mine. “Some childish prank — think nothing of it.”
Tony turned to one of his main men, a distant cousin who appeared when we seemed to be in danger. “You know anything about this?”
“Yes, sir. It looks like a new gang. We caught a boy the other day putting their marks around, sent him packing with a bit of a beat-down for his —”
“That will be enough,” Tony said. “A lady is present.”
“Yes, sir,” the man said. “Sorry, sir. My apologies, mum. But … they call themselves Red Dogs … or something like that. Mostly slum boys.”
Tony said, “Where did this happen?”
“We caught them around 80th.”
80th street? Those boys were miles from home.
“Well, I don’t need riffraff marking up my quadrant,” Tony said. “Makes the place look bad. Send a couple of Associates to find out who’s behind all this nonsense.”
This made me think of David, suddenly missing from his back stair. Did he get involved with these boys?
“Yes, sir,” the man said, “I’ll have them get one of their stamp cards to show you.”
Tony tucked a curl of hair behind my ear. “Let’s forget this unpleasantness and enjoy our party.”
When Roy Spadros returned to the room, Charles Hart moved to another table, as did Jonathan. I must have danced with every man of note in Bridges before the New Year’s toast and the midnight dinner.
As we crossed the lofty pale bridge from Market Center to the Spadros quadrant, Tony pulled me close. “The moment I first saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”
I remembered his wide innocent eyes as he sat in Roy’s carriage that cold, terrible night, and let him kiss me.
He was a good kisser.
Tony was more than a bit drunk, so it didn’t surprise me that when we reached home he asked for his husband’s prerogative.
The common advice to young women about to wed is “lie back and think of England,” a true absurdity during these enlightened days in the New World. But my task was much more pleasant. I thought of Joseph Kerr these many years, remembering those stolen moments in his arms, his too-skillful attentions upon my body. It made me as satisfied with my duty as any husband might wish for.
This might sound cruel, it might even sound scandalous, but who did it harm? My spouse had his pleasure, and I had mine. We were both content.
Seeing Joe there … ahhh, he had grown into a fine figure of a man. Too fine. I wanted more than thoughts. I wanted him, in my arms, in my bed.
If I had listened to Air and stayed home that terrible winter’s night, I would belong to Joe.
What would our lives have been like?