Lauri Robinson - Stolen Kiss With The Hollywood Starlet

The crowd had grown in her absence, and she hurried to fill her tray with drinks and get them sold. It hadn’t taken her long to figure out who bought the more expensive drinks, and though they cost her more, too, those buying the higher priced drinks didn’t try to short her.

She was filling her tray for the third time in less than ten minutes when she saw him.

Him.

Walter Russell.

He was as pesky as a fly that kept landing on a person’s nose in the middle of the night. She purposefully didn’t stop by his table, but kept an eye on him. He may not look it, but he was slippery. Had to be up to no good. Why else would he be here? Watching her.

Was he another Roy Harrison? Or Olin Swaggert and his fast-talking lawyer? Or Mel Cartwright with his contract? Tricksters, liars and cheats. That’s what they’d been. He could be, too. Most likely was. Two other men, not the same ones from last night, were at his table. All three of them laughing.

At what? Her?

That possibility nagged at her for the next few hours, and grated at her nerves like a squeaky hinge. Not even having people fill the joint wall to wall helped. She knew he was still here. Knew exactly where he was sitting.

The room was in full swing, people dancing, laughing, buying drinks and having the times of their lives. She wasn’t. Her feet were aching from the shoes she had to wear. White, with tall heels, and at least one size too small. It would be hours before she could take them off, so she forced herself not to think about them and kept passing out drinks, all the while keeping an eye on Walter.

A pretty young woman with hair as red as her lipstick and wearing a white-and-red polka-dot dress had been talking with him a short time ago, but was nowhere in sight now.

Shirley scanned the room for the red-haired woman as she made her way toward the end of the long wooden bar to refill her tray when, suddenly, he was at her side.

Startled, she jolted sideways.

He grasped her waist and pulled her against his side. “Stay close to me.”

His aftershave was like a breath of fresh air. For weeks all she’d smelled was cigarette smoke and whiskey. He smelled so fresh and clean all she wanted to do was close her eyes and breathe. Just breathe.

She stopped herself before that happened and twisted so her cheek was no longer up against his shoulder. “My tray is empty. I—”

“Doesn’t matter.” He started walking, forcing her to walk with him. “You’re leaving.”

“Leave? I can’t—” Her words were cut short by a high-pitched siren. It was so loud she couldn’t hear what he said.

He grabbed the strap of her tray and pulled it over her head.

She was reaching to grab it when pandemonium hit. Chairs toppled and people started running, pushing and shoving others in their way.

Shocked, frozen, Shirley didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what was happening.

Walter pushed her out of the way as a table toppled in the wake of two huge men. She stumbled backward, up against the wall. Sirens still filled the air, along with screams and shouts. “What’s happening?”

Walter grasped her face with both hands. His nose was inches from hers, the length of his body pressed tight against hers.

“I’ll get you out of here, Blondie, don’t worry.”

She heard him, but didn’t. Her heart was pounding too hard, echoing in her ears. The heat of his palms, the pressure of his body, his fresh, clean scent, had her mind swirling. She swallowed, tried to breathe, but couldn’t. His lips were too close to hers. So close they were breathing the same air. A heavy, tingling warmth filled her as she reached up and wrapped her fingers around his arms.

He was so handsome, so—

The haze around her shattered. The roar of the panicking crowd once again filled her ears. Someone had bumped into them and fallen. Recognizing the black curls, Shirley grabbed the arm of the cigarette girl and helped Walter lift her off the floor before she got trampled.

“The bulls are outside!” Alice shouted.

“Bulls?” Shirley asked. “Cattle? A stampede?”

“No! Police!” Alice shouted. “We have to run or be arrested!”

Shirley’s heart leaped into her throat. There were too many people to run. To get anywhere.

Alice grabbed her arm. “This way!”

Walter grabbed her other arm. “No! This way.”

“Only the customers can go out through the kitchen,” Alice said. “We have to go out through the back and get upstairs before the bulls see us.”

“No,” Walter said. “We have to go this way.”

“No! The bulls gotta arrest someone!” Alice shouted. “That will be anyone dressed like us going that way!”

Shirley felt as if she was being torn in two with the way they each tugged on her arm.

“Trust me,” Walter said. “This way.”

Shirley couldn’t say why, but she pulled her arm out of Alice’s hold and then grabbed the woman’s hand. “This way!”

“Hurry,” Walter said, pulling her forward.

“We are hurrying,” she said, pulling Alice behind her. “We just ain’t getting nowhere!”

“We will!”

She hoped he was right. For all their sakes.

The next thing she knew, they were in the men’s restroom. Others were in there, too, rushing through another door on the far wall. Walter hurried them through that door, then up a flight of stairs that led outside. To the side of the building.

“Rosie!” he shouted. “Take these two with you!”

The woman in the red-and-white polka-dot dress was climbing in a car, and waved frantically at them. “Hurry! Hurry!”

Sirens filled the air. Walter pushed her forward. “Go. Run.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Come on, Shirley! Run,” Alice said, pulling her toward the car. “Run.”

Shirley ran, and as she climbed in the car, she twisted, scanning the crowd. He was gone. Gone. She sat down, and was shutting the door, while still searching the crowd, when she noticed Rita, who was a foot taller than even some of the men, running out of the door along with others.

“Rita!” Shirley shouted out the window. “Here!”

As Rita elbowed her way through the crowd and ran toward them, Shirley told the redheaded woman, “We can’t leave her behind. Just can’t.”

Rita climbed in the back seat with her and Alice and then the redheaded woman leaped in the front seat and closed the door. The driver, another woman, shouted, “Duck down. Don’t let anyone see you. All of you!”

They all complied, bending over and putting their head between their knees. The sirens were louder and the shine of flashing red lights filled the car as they drove away.

* * *

Walter watched the car drive away. That hadn’t been part of his plan. Running into Rosie, a waitress from Julia’s café, had been pure luck, and something that had worked out perfectly.

He walked to his car and climbed in, waiting as the police barreled down on the Cartwright building. The raid wasn’t for the speakeasy; it was for the secretive opium room on the third floor. He’d heard rumors about that room, and had spent some time investigating it this morning, learning they weren’t just rumors. This afternoon, he’d contacted a city council member. One he knew disliked the drug dens as much as he did.

Busts of joints like that happened daily. Speakeasies were overlooked for the most part, unless someone got riled or annoyed, someone with power. But very few agreed with the operating of opium dens. Other than those who were operating them, and those they dragged down into the bowels of hell with them.

Anger filled him, came from nowhere, as it did sometimes. Lucy had been dragged down into that world. Where very little mattered other than the next high. It’s what had killed her in the end.