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PART II
ELEVATOR TO THE GALLOWS

40

TREY CAUGHT HER when she fainted.

“I told her to eat,” Dot hissed as Trey laid Marina on a pew, then knelt beside her and stroked her face. Dot glared at Trey and said, “Go get some punch. A bite. Make yourself useful.”

Trey’s jaw ground, but he didn’t know what else to do so he trotted off. Seeing Marina and Dot at the back of the chapel was almost like they were all out having a good time and Gio had ducked out to smoke in peace. Except … Gio didn’t smoke anymore and Albright had made it clear Gio was not to come within a football field of Dot or he’d find his ass full of buckshot.

Despite the lacy white gown, Marina was more lovely than his imagination had made her out to be. But she hadn’t stood there like a beautiful bride anxiously awaiting her walk down the aisle. She looked like a lost and rather sickly young woman who was waiting for her friend to help her get to a doctor.

What Trey had intended to be a lovely little wedding with a lovely little gathering in a lovely little chapel Marina had wanted to get married in had turned out to be a glorified chat in a funeral chapel for no reason whatsoever. They could’ve done just as well in the Albrights’ living room on a Tuesday morning before work.

There were few guests here. Other than his grandparents, who looked guardedly happy, Trey only knew four of them: Boss Tom and Mrs. Pendergast representing the Machine, and Mr. and Mrs. John Lazia representing the Mafia. Neither Boss Tom nor Brother John was happy. If the wives knew what was going on, Trey didn’t know. He suspected Mrs. Pendergast didn’t know about the bet. Most cats like him, their women didn’t know jack about what their men got up to or where the money came from.

He returned with a handful of mints, a cookie, and some punch from the tiny table in the nave. Dot was stroking Marina’s wan face and speaking to her, smiling with such fake cheer it almost made Trey sick to his stomach.

“Scram,” he muttered at Dot as he crouched in front of Marina, whose eyes were still closed.

“No!” she snapped.

“Dot,” Sister Albright called. “Marina is his concern now. Let him do his job.”

“Hrmph,” she said, then arose and flounced away.

“Hey, Sugga,” Trey said as tenderly as he could manage, while at the same time keeping tabs on Boss Tom and Brother John, both of whom were, at this moment, standing at the back of the chapel chatting and laughing with Albright and Elliott, who, shockingly, knew each other from their bootlegging days. The Missus Pendergast and Lazia were doing the same with Sister Albright and Grandmother Susanna, Dot hanging on the fringes, alert for any indication that Marina needed her. The few other people milling about, whom Trey assumed to be Mormon church members, were chatting amongst themselves but casting wary glances between the four feral cats at the back of the church and the one tending his new wife as if the occasion would turn into a repeat of the St. Valentine’s Day massacre.

Trey looked back at Marina, who seemed to be more asleep than passed out. He thought of nothing but her sweet face, a little thinner now as well as being a sickly hue. He caressed her skin with his knuckles, smoothed the pad of his thumb over her eyebrow. He then touched her belly, spreading his hand out, palming it. Where before it had been a little squishy, now it was simply taut with no real change in her waistline, and he wondered how anyone could tell.

Unless they were waiting.

His child. He was going to be a father and for the first time, he realized there was going to be a small human dependent upon him to protect and care for. A human, delicate, aware, who would grow, and call him Daddy.

“Daddy,” he whispered, his fingertips pressing a little harder. Why hadn’t he thought about the baby from the beginning? Why hadn’t it occurred to him that his child would be raised by some other man? It bothered him the way Grandfather Elliott and Bishop Albright thought it should, but now he wouldn’t have that worry.

“Marina.”

Her eyelashes fluttered open. Without moving her head, she looked at him, then around the chapel with unfocused wariness. Then she looked back at him. “Who are you?”

He didn’t know if that was literal or figurative. “Trey. Your husband.”

Her gaze flickered to his chin. “This is a dream,” she whispered. “A dream. You’re dreaming. It’s not real. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up before you do something stupid.”

Oh boy. “It’s not a dream,” he murmured, still caressing her forehead with his fingertips. “You’re not asleep. You’re pregnant. We just got married. I’mma take you home to the house I bought just for you. I think you’ll like it. I hope so anyway.” He realized he was babbling and continued to do so because he was getting her attention. “If you don’t,” he continued, “I’ll buy you somethin’ else. I bought you a car, too. Can’t have you tryin’a run errands on foot.”

Her brow wrinkled. “You … bought me … a car?”

He nodded. “Groceries. Whatnot. Library. Go wherever you want whenever. Kresge’s with Dot. Don’t wanna miss that.”

“You—you’re going to … let me … ”

“You’re married now. Ain’t nobody gonna look sideways at you. You can wear whatever you want. Buy what you want.”

“But … husbands have rules. They decide what their wives can and cannot do.”

Trey shook his head. “Don’t have any I can think of right now—” He paused. “First rule: You don’t come to my speakeasy.”

Her throat bobbed. “I won’t,” she said in a small voice.

“In fact, you stay off Main Street. Ain’t no businesses from Fourteenth to Twentieth you need.”

She nodded hesitantly. “I can’t go to school,” she said in a small voice. “I won’t graduate.”

“Yeh, I’m sorry about that.” He really was. “I’mma get you tutors so you can go back after the baby comes if you want. I’ll get a girl to mind it.”

She blinked. “Why are you talking like that?”

His mouth tightened. “I have to work to remember how to speak properly,” he said gruffly. “Right now, I got too much else to think about to mind my speech.”

She appeared to be thinking about that more than the situation warranted, but the strangest things caught her attention.

“There’s cake an’ punch waitin’ for us.” He held up the empty cup for Dot to see then waggled it. She nodded and scurried out of the chapel. “Dot said you didn’t eat.”

Marina held her hand up to him, and he stood to pull her upright, then sat beside her. Soon Dot sat on the other side of her and damn near shoved a macaroon in her mouth.

“She doesn’t like oatmeal raisin,” Dot snarled at him.

“Thank you, Dot,” Marina whispered, and began to nibble. She took sips of her punch in between.

Trey didn’t speak while Dot fed her. He didn’t want to hear the pure hate in Dot’s voice, even though he really didn’t care about her opinion of him. He was thinking about Gio, who wasn’t talking too much, knowing Dot’s heart was broken but would shatter the second she found out who Gio was, what he did, and what he’d done.

That was the price Gio had to pay to stay alive, which was likely to be a helluva lot steeper than the price Trey would pay.

Trey had gotten the speakeasy and the girl, and suddenly he felt like the luckiest sumbitch alive.

40

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Speakeasy staff.