Speak Low by Melanie Harlow

natural while dancing—sometimes even walking comfortably was a chore. And my singing made my cooking skills look good.
    “Well, you can think about it then. But I’ll see to it that you’re paid very well, if you want.”
    I exhaled, closing my eyes. Of course I wanted it. I wanted everything he just mentioned—the apartment, the nights with him, the money to do as I pleased, the freedom to make my choices and own my mistakes as well as my successes. What young woman didn’t want to live a flapper’s life with all its wicked delights?
    But at what price?
    If I told Enzo where the opium was and he took it back, Joey would know I’d betrayed him. But if I didn’t, Enzo would take matters into his own hands and people would get hurt, maybe even killed.
    I opened my eyes. “If I tell you where the opium is, you have to promise me you’ll give me a chance to talk to Joey before you take it.”
    “I can’t promise that, Tiny. But I can promise that if you don’t tell me, I’ll have no choice but to settle this score my own way.”
    My heart stuttered. “Well…you can’t hurt Joey. Promise that.”
    Enzo stiffened. “What is he to you?”
    “A friend.”
    Silence. “I won’t have to hurt him if he cooperates. And I won’t have to marry Gina if I get the cash for the drugs.”
    It was so dark, I couldn’t read his eyes. I wanted everything he was offering. And I didn’t want him to marry Gina. What had he said to me this morning? You and I are going to have to trust each other a little bit.
    I took a breath. “It’s in the boathouse.”
    A smile crept onto his lips, slow and sinister. “Shall we take a ride?”
    I struggled to sit up. “No!”
    He shifted me onto the seat beside him and started the car.
    Panicked, I put my hands on his arm and tugged. “Please, Enzo. Just wait, all right?” It occurred to me that I wasn’t entirely positive the drugs were still in the boathouse. Even if they had been there earlier today, Joey might have moved them after dropping me off. I hung on as he swung the car around and headed back onto Jefferson. “Listen, I wasn’t supposed to tell you anything yet, and now I’ll be in trouble.”
    Enzo laughed. “Trouble is your middle name, darling.”
    Frowning, I scooted away from him and stared out the window. Enzo rarely used any terms of endearment with me, and somehow this one lacked a certain affection I was hoping to develop between us. Why the hell couldn’t I meet a normal fellow like Evelyn had? One who took me to the movies or a dance on a Saturday night?
    Enzo turned off Jefferson onto the boathouse drive, and I had to reach out and steady myself again as the Packard bumped and shimmied over the tree-rutted and potholed dirt. Low hanging branches scraped against the windows, and Enzo swore softly. “Fucking trees better not ruin this paint job. I just got this car.”
    I felt like spitting on the new upholstery, and I might have if I weren’t so scared.
    When we emerged into the clearing where the abandoned boathouse stood, a shiver ran through me. This is where I’d been abducted just a few nights ago by Raymond and Harry, and I didn’t much feel like reliving that memory. Beyond the dilapidated old structure, Lake St. Clair loomed, black and silent. I wrapped my bare arms around myself, feeling exposed and vulnerable in my nightgown. “I’ll wait here.”
    Enzo looked over at me but didn’t reply. After pulling his braces back onto his shoulders, he got out of the car and opened the door to the back. I thought he might be looking for his coat but instead he reached down and retrieved a pistol from beneath the seat. My mouth hung open as he checked it for bullets.
    “What the hell is that for?” I whispered. “There’s nobody here!”
    “Then there won’t be any trouble.” His tone was cool and confident—of course it was— but he glanced over both shoulders as he walked past the giant weeping willow to the boathouse door. The waning moon