“Excuse us,” Cal said as he nudged his way between chairs, startling the people sitting there. Fern avoided eye contact and followed, exhaling in relief when he opened the door and whisked them into a hallway. He closed the door, and there was no light at all.
“Cal—”
“Just follow my lead.” He gripped her elbow tighter and steered them left. “Stairs,” he announced, and then they were heading down, the steps bathed in dim light coming from an open exit below. The stairwell emptied onto a narrow boardwalk, edged by the harbor and iron mooring posts. Roped-off boats rocked alongside the docks. The hollow sounds of water against hulls, creaking deck boards, and metal fastenings smacking against the masts and rigging overtook the cacophony inside the Pier.
Cal started them toward the entrance to the Pier again, only this time, they were alone. There was no entertainment on this walkway, and hardly any light either. Fern wondered if it might have been safer to stay surrounded by other people, but Cal seemed to know what he was doing. She wanted to believe he did, anyway.
The walkway merged into the main, arched entranceto the Pier, and once their feet hit solid ground, they picked up speed to cross the parking lot toward Cal’s Roadster. He let go of her arm moments before Fern reached the passenger side door, and he went for the driver’s side.
Once seated inside, key in the ignition, she felt the buzzing of blood in her veins and the warm throb of her calf muscles from walking so quickly. As Cal pulled out of the parking spot and drove away, the two men in fedoras who’d been following them exited the Pier.
The engine of Cal’s auto was the only sound for at least a few minutes. Fern breathed heavily, her pulse slowing.
“You going to eat that?” Cal asked. He looked at her hand, and she remembered the crushed pretzel.
“Oh. No.” She wasn’t hungry in the least. She held it out to Cal, and he took it. “What just happened?”
He ate as he drove, his eyes steady on the road.
“Jacky Boys.” He swallowed. “They’re known for public displays. Those two wouldn’t have thought twice before opening up on me in front of everyone.” Cal paused before taking another bite of the pretzel and glanced her way. “Bullets go sideways most of the time.”
Her stomach pulled low with a sudden urge to retch. She could have been shot. Anyone else out on that Pier could have been.
“Are you taking me home now?” They were heading south along North Lake Shore Drive.
“Yeah,” he answered.
It was one word. One syllable. She knew she shouldn’t try to read into it, but as he drove on in silence,she couldn’t resist. It was either disappointment or regret or something else unsatisfying. Maybe he wished he hadn’t brought her to the Pier. Or perhaps he wished he hadn’t told her about Pretzel John and their run of bootleg gin.
“Did any of that back there scare you?” he asked after a few minutes.
Instinct told her to say yes. Fear made hearts pump erratically and pulses race; it made people breathe unevenly and their senses sharpen. Fear carved a narrow tunnel through the world ahead of you, and for Fern, people had been gawking at her along the blurred edges of that tunnel. But she hadn’t cared half as much this evening as she’d thought she would.
But…had she been afraid?
“A little, maybe.”Shouldn’tshe have been?
Her heart rate slowed to normal as they drove. If anything, she felt strangely, surprisingly…alive.
“How did you know there was a back door at that nightclub?” she asked.
“What makes you think I knew?”
“You just seemed so confident.”
Fern’s house came into view, and he slowed to a stop in almost the same place as where he’d been parked earlier. He didn’t turn off the engine, but he shifted his body toward her, his arm resting on the top of the wheel.
“In my world, confidence is like air,” he said. “You either breathe it, or you end up in the ground.”
The brim of his hat cast his eyes in a darker shadow than the ones filling the car’s interior.It was a harsh sentiment, but true. At least for his world, she supposed. And tonight, she’d seen a little more of it.
“Your old man has until tomorrow,” Cal said. Fern blinked. The reminder felt like the prick of a knife against her ribs, right under her heart.
She nodded and opened the door. The moment she shut it behind her, Cal pulled out from the curb and drove away.
10
Fern slept late the next morning. Until noon. She couldn’t recall a single dream when she woke up. The black, depthless sleep was the kind that made her limbs heavy and the sheets on her bed unbearable to part with. By the time she’d risen, dressed and made her way downstairs to ask Mrs. Jennaway for something to eat, Fern could find no trace of anyone else in the house. Tuesday afternoon would find Buchanan at the bank, Mother at lunch somewhere, and Father at any number of places.
