Page 42 of Working for the Mob

“Not like that either,” I said, as fast as I could. “We’re just …”

My face begged someone to step in and save me. How did I explain I’m working for the mob?

“I’m her landlord,” Art said, and I wanted to kiss him. Right on his furry mouth.

“Mine too,” Lucy said. “We have an adorable cottage out in Lannington.”

“Lannington?” Madame Levie asked. “Where in the seven hells is that?”

A New Yorker’s world stopped at the city limits. We rarely paid the rest of the states any attention.

“It’s in Pennsylvania,” Art said, and I thought I caught a hint of annoyance.

“Better than Jersey,” Madame Levie said, with a shrug. She turned to me. “Your name’s come up quite a few times by my customers. I almost can’t believe the things they say about you.”

A red flush covered my cheeks and I clenched my jaw in an Art-like manner. The match-maker, Madame Rousseau, must have carried out her threat and ruined my reputation. My old life was forever tainted.

“And your dad came in looking for you,” Madame Levie continued. Theyoudidn’t seem to include Lucy. Luckily, she seemed too enthralled with a dress to notice. “He seemed desperate to find you.”

I couldn’t imagine facing my parents. First Lucy, and now me. Our family’s name was soiled.

“Are you sure it was him?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine my dad in a boutique in the shopping district.

“I know a handsome Woodrow Wilson when I see him.”

“I’ll be sure to give him a call,” I lied.

Madame Levie raised her eyebrows and turned to Lucy. “Now. What can I help you with, my dear?”

“I’m sorry, Madame Levie, but we are only looking today,” Lucy said. “It’s just … I was in the area and I had to stop by.”

Madame Levie owned a terrible poker face. The old lady pursed her lips and held her head in the air.

“Make sure not to wrinkle any of my clothes,” she said. “I’ll be in the back.”

She turned her back on us and waddled to the backroom, when Art spoke up. “Madame Levie, these ladies need clothes for work, and everyday wear. Slips, shirts, skirts, dresses, bloomers. They’re starting their wardrobe from scratch. Would you help them with that?”

Madame turned around and her smile returned. “Well, of course.”

Slips, shirts, skirts, dresses, andbloomers?We couldn’t afford any of that and I had only brought a handful of change for the trip.

“Madame Levie, hold on,” I said, and turned to Art. I tried to talk without moving my mouth, in a low voice, while annoyed and I hoped the bastard could hear me. “What are you doing? You know we can’t afford this.”

“Just pick out some clothes so I can get the hell out of here,” Art said, loud enough for Madame Levie to hear.

Lucy squealed and rushed to the closest display, but I grabbed her arm.

“How are we going to pay for it?” I hissed at him, while Lucy struggled to break free.

“I’ve got it covered,” Art said, but I couldn’t let him.

We were already employed to this man, he was our landlord, and I still owed him ten dollars. I couldn’t add “a week’s worth of clothes” on top of the list as well. If you can’t make a payment to the mob, they break your legs. Or worse.

“No,” I said, as firm as I could. Geez, I sounded like a toddler.

“I can’t have my baker and bookkeeper walking around town wearing the lost and found box from church,” Art said. “Now pick out some damn clothes or let’s get the hell out of here.”

I glared at him while he worked his jaw, and Lucy broke out of my grip. She tugged a dress off the rack and hugged it. “I want this one,” she said, and twirled with it.

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