Jezebel (39 page)

“
She’s in
Chicago. A buddy of mine, who co-owns a boxing gym in the city, said
he’d seen her headlining for a swank night club on the Gold
Coast. Before that she worked as a principal dancer and chief
choreographer for the Micheaux Film Company.

The guard looked at him
sharply. “She was in movies?”

Shane’s chest puffed
up with pride. “More than a dozen musicals before the company
folded two years ago.”

“
Still, I think it’s
stupid,” he said sucking on his tooth.

“
What
do expect from an AWOL sailor on the loose for five years.”

The
guard looked at him sharply, but thankfully for Shane held his tongue
and his Billy club. Shane had gained unwelcome notoriety in the brig
for having remained one step ahead of the Navy’s Master of
Arms.

His
Houdini act also got him singled out more than once by the guards and
staff.

Unprovoked,
his stay at the Portsmouth Naval Station would’ve been easy
sailing. But with every guard and sailor wanting to take down the
world’s lightweight heavy champion, he’d landed in the
hole more than once.

“
Wait here, while I go
inside and tell the doc you’re here,” the guard
instructed, pointing to a bench outside the medic lab. A second
later, he came back out and told him to go in.

“
Happy for your last
physical?” the doctor asked.

“
Happy
I can fly this place and finally fight some Nazis.”

“
Fight
Nazis?” The doctor’s eyebrows lifted above his black
spectacles. “That’s a different tune for a man who didn’t
report to his ship for five years.”

Shane shrugged. “The
Navy was in the way of my true calling. I’d always planned on
returning. Now that I have the title and learned the error of my
ways, I’m ready to fight for my country.”

“
Well,
let’s check you out then,” The doctor patted the
examination table. “Go ahead and strip down to your
underwear.”

Besides checking his vitals,
the doctor poked and prodded, asked him a ton of questions, even made
him touch his noise over and over. By the time the examination was
over, Shane was slightly disoriented and happy to put his clothes on.

“
When
do I ship out?” Shane slipped his crackerjack over his head.

“
I’m sorry to
tell you this, son. I’m going to recommend discharge.”

The wind knocked out of his
sails, Shane leaned back against the examination table. “Why,
I’m fit as a horse. I can go eight rounds with the best.”

“
That’s
the thing. You’ve gone too many rounds. I can’t
definitively diagnose you, but I see signs of
dementia
pugilistica
.
Your hand-to-eye coordination is off. You lumber when you walk and on
occasion your speech is slurred.”

“
And here I thought I
was just choosing my words carefully.” Even though his blood
had run cold, clogging his veins, Shane laughed, tried to make light
of things. “I’m just punch drunk.”

The doctor smiled at Shane’s
joke. “I’m glad you’re taking this pretty well.”

“
My coach, Ollie,
suspected it.” Shane dropped his gaze, his hand reaching up to
scratch the back of his head. “So did I…I guess I just
didn’t’ want to face it.” Shane couldn’t deny
the prognosis made his knees knock. “Is there any cure?”

“
I’m not aware
of any. But you can slow the disease’s progress by not boxing
anymore. I’ve also heard you can keep the mind nimble with
moderate exercise and therapy.”

Great. Not only was his
body deteriorating. He was also losing his mind.

***

Two
months later

Celeste high-tailed it back
to her dressing room.

Finished with the last of
two numbers, which fulfilled her contract as one of Club DeLisa’s
headliners, she was free to fraternize with the club’s patrons
or go home.

Tonight, like most nights,
Celeste choose the latter. Not because she sought the soft comforts
of her bed, but because her past had come back to haunt her.

Still breathing hard from
exertion, she paced the length of her large dressing room. Along
with a generous salary and top billing it was one of the perks she
demanded from the club’s owner.

That
couldn’t be him! Not after all these years. Sure he’d
sent letters, dozens of them, but he’d never shown up at her
doorstep. Why now when she’d finally learned how to live
without him? When her bed no longer felt so cold and empty? And she
hadn’t touched a bottle in over three years.

Preoccupied, Celeste barely
acknowledged the knock on her dressing room door. It was probably
Maybelline, another contractual perk, coming to help her undress.

“
Hey beautiful.”

Celeste froze. His voice
flowed over her like warm honey. Each syllable made her thighs feel
warm and sticky. Weak in resolve, she found his reflection in the
mirror.

Entirely at ease, Shane
leaned against the only exit. Attired for the evening in a black and
white tuxedo, he was more handsome than her constant daydreams. His
tan was more pronounced. His eyes greener like a bottle of absinthe.
And like that strong elixir, she was becoming intoxicated.

“
Miss me?”

He
straightened up from the wall like a sleek panther, a pleased smile
curving his sensual lips. He ambled toward her and she tensed
because if he touched her, she wasn’t sure of her reaction. A
part of her wanted to melt at his feet. The other half needed to
plant a fist in his throat.

Celeste gathered her resolve
around her like a shield. “What are you doing here?” she
asked her tone flat and surprisingly even.

She was rewarded when his
eyes widened and his cocky expression slipped. “I wanted to
apologize.”

“
Accepted, but not
forgiven.”

Celeste gave him her back.
As if he wasn’t there and affecting her equilibrium, she went
about her post show routine. She removed her top hat and hung it
with the other hats in her wardrobe.

“
I’ve come to
bring you home,” Shane stepped closer. “If you need help
with gathering your things….”

Celeste couldn’t
believe his audacity. Did he actually think she would forget what
he’d done and go skipping down the road happily ever after?
Remotely ecstatic, she bit out, “I’m already home.”

A muscle worked in his jaw.
Good! Let him get angry. Until recently, she and the emotion had
been bedfellows.

“
Your
home is with me

your
husband.”

“
Fine
time to start acting like one.” Snorting loudly, Celeste tossed
her silk bow tie aside. “I’ve slept with plenty of men in
my day, but I’ve never slept with the enemy.”

“
I
was never your enemy, baby.”

With
the endearment ringing her ears, Celeste swung around to face him.
“Enemy

con
man

you’re
your pick.”

“
I
never conned you, Celeste. I fell in love with you when I should’ve
kept my distance.”

Celeste hated how his
declaration made her heart accelerate. Maybe if he knew how much
he’d hurt her, he wouldn’t be so keen on forcing a
reconciliation.

“
Do you know the hell
you’ve put me through? You’re not even blood, yet,
you’ve given me more grief and heartache than I’ve
experienced my whole life.”

Celeste
gripped the dressing table so tightly, her knuckles hurt. “Even
now you’re hurting me, punishing me by just being here and
stirring up old feelings I’ve worked damn hard to set aside.”

He stepped closer, breaching
the distance between them. “Had I known I hurt you so much—”

“
You would have let me
be?” she interrupted.

He shook his head. “I
would’ve done this differently.”

He just didn’t get it!
“Even if you had a mediator, it wouldn’t erase the
past.” Celeste removed her tuxedo jacket and flung it over a
chair. “Go home, Shane and let me be.”

Celeste turned back around.
She dipped her hand in a jar of cold cream and smeared it along her
brow, over cheeks and down her jaw.

How
long he stood there Celeste wasn’t quite sure. Time seemed to
stand still, while she removed her heavy stage makeup. One thing she
was very aware of was the door closing behind him.

It was the witching hour and
Shane felt like a fool. He’d been shunned by his wife and yet
here he sat front and center at an astronomically expensive reserved
table at Club DeLisa, waiting for Celeste’s set to begin. A
bottle of hooch sat on the table, next to a small coffeepot and a
tray of rolled cigars.

Sure she’d rebuffed
him, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t keep trying until
she finally let him in and allowed him to redeem himself.

He would never give up on
them. She was all he had left of true value in this world. Money, a
boxing title were all trivial possessions. True love was priceless.
And if he had to sit here night after night he’d do it.

“
Ladies and gentleman,
we are sorry to inform you that Celeste Newsome will not be
performing tonight. We’ve parted company on amiable terms and
she’s no longer a headliner at the Club DeLisa.”

She’d given him the
slip. Shane was so angry he crushed his cigar. Realizing the mess
he’d made, in more ways than one, he cut his losses and stood
up.

Picking his way through the
crowd, Shane made his way over to the bar. If anyone knew the inner
workings of an establishment, the bartender would be considered an
internist.

Shane waited at the end of
the bar, money already greasing his palm.

“
What can I get you,
sir?” Shane glanced at the wizened old man, looking older than
Methuselah himself, and groaned. He probably couldn’t remember
what he had for breakfast.

“
I need information.”
Shane peeled off a twenty dollar bill. “What happened to the
star?”

As
if taking bribes were an ordinary occurrence, the bartender didn’t
flinch or blink. He simply folded the money then slipped it into his
jacket pocket.

“
She
hopped on a train this morning. Said she needed to get out of town in
a hurry, take care of some business. She bought in so much money,
boss man practically cried in his evening soup.”

Shane
ignored his chaotic heartbeat. “You know where she was headed?”

“
Gonna
cost you another bill.” The man smiled when Shane laid another
twenty on the bar.

“
Where was she
headed?”

“
You
aren’t trying to do her any harm are you?”

“
No
harm. Just trying to woo her back.” The bartender looked at
him quizzically. “She’s my wife.”

“
I
don’t get involved in domestic spats.” The bartender
turned to leave. Seeing his window of opportunity sealing shut,
Shane reached out and stopped him. He reached inside his pocket and
laid a hundred dollar bill on the bar top.

The bartender licked his
lips. “You really love her.”

Shane placed another hundred
dollar bill next to the first. “More than life itself.”

“
She
left on the morning train heading back to New York City,” he
said, palming the fresh bills. “On the Capital Limited matter
of fact. Should arrive by tomorrow afternoon.”

So she was heading home.
Shane smiled. She’d won this round but not the bout. He’d
lick his wounds and come out swinging.

This time winner takes all.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Celeste rolled down the car
window. She placed her arm on the sill and played with the wind,
allowing it to push her arm back and forth. It was such a beautiful
spring day it would be a shame not to enjoy it in some shape or form.

“
We should be in
Kansas City in the morning,” she breathed. “I can’t
wait for a rack of ribs.”

“
Smothered in sweet
barbeque sauce,” Maybelline, the troupe’s sole canary
added. She shared topped billing and the back seat of the early Ford
woodie station wagon they were sandwiched in. Cramped and bumpy, it
was a better ride than the bus the stock performers were sentenced
to.