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  Jack sighed and it sounded as if all the weariness in the world was making its way out of him. "All right, boys," he said, and he picked up his whiskey bottle and glass as he rose from the table. "Vince and I are gonna have ourselves a talk." He put on his hat, left the gun where it lay, and started out of the room.

  Vince took his bottle and glass, winked at the football player still holding a shotgun on him, and followed Jack Diamond through the door.

  5:20 a.m.

  On a tree-lined street of two-family houses, Lottie, invisible in the shadows, watched a storm approach and pass from her apartment doorway, still dressed in her black slip, her back against the door frame, her knees drawn to her chin. First darkness massed in the west, deepening the slateblue night sky till it turned black and clouds swallowed up the last of the stars; then wind came in gusts that bent treetops and sent a galvanized metal garbage can clattering over the street; finally rain swooped down in wavering sheets and wind blew steadily and hard, accompanied by fissures of lightning and thunder. Vince had left to see Diamond shortly after midnight, and Lottie had spent every minute since either pacing the apartment or sitting in the doorway until now the sky was beginning to show hints of approaching daylight through clouds and steady hard rain. She was exhausted, having passed through in one night emotions ranging from excitement and anticipation to anxiety and dread to despair and terror to, finally, something that felt like nothing at all, like emptiness. She sat listless in the doorway as it gradually grew lighter while rain splashed over grass and concrete, and a few crows cawed now and then in the nearby trees.

  Without Vince she'd be back to square one, and that was part of her thinking—but it was in the background. What would she do without him? Where would she go? Without Vince to worry about, would Dutch come after her? She might have to run, and she couldn't imagine where. Since the Vengelli kid got killed, Vince was big news everywhere, all over the country, all over the world. There were newspaper stories every day, and Lottie turned up in most of them. Yesterday the newspapers had them living in Canada, on the run. With Dutch and the Combine looking for her, she'd have to change her name and maybe her appearance.

  For most of the night thoughts like these roiled in the back of her mind as she watched trees swaying and listened to the night sounds of crows and wind and rain. She told herself that Vince would be back soon, and she watched the road and the bend where his car would appear, the sound of it first, followed by headlights. A couple of times her eyes misted and tears fell and she wasn't even thinking of anything, at least not that she knew. It was as if as the night wore on she grew so full of fear that it overflowed. Vince's name was on her tongue constantly, the sound of it alone summing up everything. She wanted him back. That simple. That childish. She was filled with wanting him back and it spilled out of her and onto and through everything so that she was looking at the trees and listening to the rain, but it was all the same thing. She wanted Vince.

  Her back was beginning to hurt. She thought she might have been sitting in the doorway forever, hidden in the shadows, the night street still but for the rain and wind. She pressed her hand into the small of her back. She still ached a bit between her legs and inside from the afternoon sex, which had gone on and on and was good but now she was raw. Sore down there back and front. She stretched her legs and leaned over—and then froze when she thought she heard a car approaching, the mechanical hum of an engine cutting through the drone of rain. When she was sure of it, she leaped to her feet. At the sight of car lights, she stepped out into the rain, a tentative first step, because it could be anybody's car, a working stiff up early and on his way somewhere. The car moved slowly, only a few miles per hour, rolling along the street in an unsteady line, veering right and then overcorrecting to the left and then veering right again, until it pulled up in front of the house, two tires on the curb and two in the street. Lottie was at the car door, pulling it open before Vince managed to cut the engine.

  "Doll," Vince said, and he offered Lottie a flashy smile. His tie was draped over his jacket, his shirt buttons were undone, and he reeked—the whole car reeked—of whiskey. In his lap, between his legs, an empty bottle of bourbon rose up rudely and he grasped it in his right hand.

  Lottie tossed the bottle to the curb and helped Vince out of the car. "What happened?" she asked. "What'd he say?"

  "Doll," Vince said again, as if it was the only word he could manage. He put his hat on her head to protect her from the rain, though they were both already soaked.

  "Jesus," Lottie said. "You're stinko." She tossed his hat into the car and closed the door with her foot as she grasped Vince around the waist and wrapped his arm over her shoulder.

  "Say!" Vince said, and he sounded angry. "That son of a bitch can drink!" He paused and then broke into laughter that doubled him over and pushed Lottie to her knees.

  "Ah, quit it, will ya?" Lottie righted herself in time to keep them both from falling. She pulled him toward the open front door.

  "Doll . . ." Vince kissed Lottie on her temple and whispered in her ear, "You're gorgeous, doll face. You know that?" With his free hand, he fumbled at her breasts.

  Lottie pushed his hand away and helped him into the apartment, where she dumped him onto the couch while she went back and closed the door. Rain dripped from their wet clothes and puddled on the floor. When she returned, Vince's arms were spread out across the back of the couch as if to keep himself upright. He looked up at her with a dumb smile and glazed eyes. "That son of a bitch can drink!" he repeated. He seemed unaware of his wet clothes and the rainwater spilling from his hair and off his face.

  Lottie decided it'd be easiest to put him to bed on the couch. She went to the bedroom, changed her clothes, came back with a pair of blankets and a couple of towels, and started undressing him, beginning with his shoes and socks. She toweled him dry as she removed each article of clothing. "Vince, honey," she said, "can you tell me what happened? I can see he didn't kill you, so that much is for the good."

  "Nah, I told you not to worry. We're a couple of micks, me and Jack. We both come up from nothin'."

  Lottie tossed his shoes aside and went about unbuckling his pants and pulling them off. "What about the deal?" she asked. "Did you propose the deal like we said?"

  "Sure," Vince said. He looked like he might explain, and then his eyes glazed over and he drifted off. His mouth opened and his lips moved but no sound came out, and a moment later his eyes closed.

  Lottie pulled off his jacket and shirt. She knelt beside Vince on the couch and struggled to yank his clothes free. "Baby, just tell me what Jack said. Did he go for the deal or not?" She threw a towel over Vince's chest and he pulled it to his face.

  "Sure," Vince said, and he tossed the towel to the floor. "I'm tired." He pushed Lottie away and curled up on the couch.

  "Sure, he went for the deal?" Lottie pulled him by the arm, turning him to face her.

  "Sure," Vince said. "Hey, listen, Lottie," he added, "it was Cabo's guys shot them kids."

  "That's right," Lottie answered. "Why're you even thinking about that?"

  "Doll face," he said, and he lit up with a smile.

  "So you're saying that Jack went for the deal?" she asked again.

  "Didn't I say so?" Vince winked and then closed his eyes. "We're in business," he said. "Me and you and Jack Diamond." He smiled with his eyes closed and then the smile faded and he curled up into himself as he sank down toward sleep.

  Lottie sat back on her heels and let it sink in. They were in business with Legs Diamond. She found one blanket, shook it open, and covered Vince. She draped the second blanket over her shoulders and thought about squeezing in beside Vince on the couch, but she was too wound up to sleep. Outside, it was still dark and raining hard but the daylight dark of a rainy day, not night dark anymore. She went out to the doorway again and resumed her position watching the rain with her back against the door frame. She felt as washed out as the rain-splattered streets.

  Part of
her was excited and another part of her was surprised that Diamond had really gone for the deal and another part of her was suspicious and still another part of her was worried about Vince. She let herself wonder what it might be like if the two of them, just Lottie and Vince, took a car and the money on hand and went someplace far away. Mexico, maybe. Or a cruise to Europe. She had thought of such things before but always the money ran out and she never could see it after that, the two of them in ordinary jobs if they could find even that. And she'd have to give up Klara. There was no possibility of working that out. So the way she saw it she didn't have a choice really, and neither did Vince. They had to bet on the big money. Look at Capone in Chicago living like a king. Look at Big Owney with his brewery smack in the middle of the city and his penthouse apartment.

  Big money, that was all they needed and then everything else would come with it. She had to make that bet. She had to. Lottie reminded herself that Vince still didn't have a mark on him, that no one had gotten to him yet, and she thought it could stay like that. It could. Then she said it aloud and it sounded like a prayer: It could. When she looked up, it was light enough to see the shapes of the clouds. They were dark, like a long row of faces peering down at her, dark eyes, dark brows, dark faces twisting and torn in the wind. She relaxed and let her head fall to her chest, and only when she realized she was about to fall asleep did she pull herself to her feet, lock up the apartment, and curl up next to Vince on the couch, the two of them under a pair of blankets, pressed tight to each other.

  Fall

  · 1931 ·

  Thursday - September 10, 1931

  7:00 p.m.

  Loretto splashed cold water on his face. He leaned over the sink in the Barontis' narrow bathroom, a fat porcelain tub on black claw feet six inches behind him, a john six inches to his left, a door that opened to the kitchen within arm's reach. After a brutal summer, fall had arrived weeks early, offering generous relief from the heat. Gusts of wind rattled the glass panes of the bathroom window, and the apartment's radiators whistled and groaned as they cranked out heat. Loretto, water dripping from his face, was so stuffed he could hardly move. He'd arrived a little before 5:00 for dinner with Gina and her family, and he'd spent the next two hours eating and talking. First antipasto, then lasagna, then veal and lemon saltimbocca, then apple and lemon meringue pies and coffee, and finally mixed nuts and more coffee. Loretto had cleared his plate with each healthy serving Mrs. Baronti carried from the stove and slapped down in front of him until he had to leave the table and come to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face to clear his senses.

  On the other side of the bathroom door, the Barontis were laughing at something. Though Loretto had been seeing Gina regularly—every day, practically—since they'd spent that night together back in July, this was his first dinner with the family as her boyfriend. Gina had worked hard not to make it a big deal: she had invited him on a weekday night rather than a Sunday, when the family usually had their big meal. She had mentioned it to her mother casually, telling her on Tuesday night that Loretto might stop by for dinner on Thursday. Mrs. Baronti had only nodded as if, sure, it wasn't a big occasion; and then, when Loretto and Gina showed up together, they found the boys wearing suits and Mrs. Baronti in a good dress, and all the makings of a holiday meal cluttering the stove and kitchen sink, the good plates and serving dishes spread over the table. Gina took one step through the door before she looked around and rolled her eyes and said, "Ma!", meaning Ma, what are you doing? Mrs. Baronti had ignored her and wrapped up Loretto in a big hug.

  Loretto toweled his face dry, shook off a surface layer of sleepiness, and rejoined the Barontis in the kitchen. Augie had just pushed his chair back. He stood and clapped his hands over his belly. "Ma," he said, "you're gonna make us all fat!"

  "Eh! Who's forcing you to eat?" Mama snatched a dirty plate from the table.

  Freddie pointed a fork at Augie. "Is that how you're grateful?"

  "Ah, put a sock in it." Augie went around the table and kissed his mother on the back of her head while she went about rinsing off a dish. To Loretto he said, "Let's go up on the roof." He pulled a couple of cigars from his jacket pocket and held them out as an offering.

  "Sure," Loretto said.

  Freddie said, "You got one of those for me?"

  "What do you think?" Augie tossed Freddie a cigar.

  Gina started clearing away the coffee cups. "Go ahead," she said to Loretto. "I'll come up when we're finished down here." She took a step toward him, as if she might send him off with a kiss, and then caught herself. "Go on," she said to her brothers. "Get out of here and let us clean up."

  On the roof, Loretto found a chair next to the empty pigeon coops. Freddie and Augie sat across him. The three of them puffed on cigars while a gusty wind blew the smoke away and scattered leaves and dirt over the tar-paper rooftop. Freddie had found work washing dishes and cleaning up in one of Gaspar's restaurants on Mulberry Street in Little Italy. He'd started eating again. Gina and Augie were still worried about him, but they both agreed he was doing better.

  "Tell Dominic," Freddie said, "I appreciate what he did, getting Gaspar to give me a job." He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt collar. He'd put on enough muscle in jail that his clothes were tight on him, even with the weight he'd lost since he'd been out.

  Augie said, "Where is Dominic? How come he don't come around with you anymore?"

  "He's at Gaspar's." Loretto tapped the ash from his cigar. "He's been spending a lot of time there."

  "Yeah?" Augie said. "I hear he's moving up. He taking you along with him?"

  Loretto ignored the question. Something about the way it was asked came across as a challenge. "Gaspar's got plans for Dominic," he said. "Dom's more like his son than his nephew."

  "Dominic's a square guy," Freddie said. "I always liked him."

  "Everybody likes Dominic," Augie said, "but maybe it's not too smart, movin' up in Maranzano's family." He took a long drag on his cigar and stared hard at Loretto. "Most guys go that route," he said, "they wind up in jail or the morgue."

  Freddie kicked the leg of his brother's chair. "Give Loretto a break!" To Loretto he said, "All that palaver's for my beneft. He wants to make sure I stay out of trouble." To Augie he said, "I told you. I'm playin' it straight. I'm washin' dishes nine to five, ain't I?"

  Loretto said to Augie, as if answering a question, "Mostly I load and unload trucks for Gaspar. I sit in the back with a shotgun in case there's trouble. That's it," he said. "It's not like I'm Al Capone."

  "Sure," Augie said, "but what kind of future is that?" When Loretto didn't answer, he added, "Look, I do what I gotta do when I need the cush. I've done a lot worse than what you just said—but now I've got work on the docks, and I'm in the union. When things pick up again, I won't need to be looking for anything on the side. You see what I'm sayin'?"

  "I should be a dockworker?"

  "Better than washing dishes." Freddie, now that he understood what was being discussed, added, "Believe me, you don't want to get sent up."

  Loretto said, "Gina knows all about me."

  "Yeah," Augie said, "but Gina's a dame, and smart as she is, dames don't use their heads when it comes to guys."

  "Look at that chump she married when she was still a kid," Freddie said, jumping on.

  Loretto put up his hands. "Guys," he said, and then he jumped up at the sight of someone emerging out of the shadows on the adjacent roof. Freddie and Augie spun around to see a figure approach the edge of the roof, back up to get a running start, and then leap across the alley and onto their rooftop. "It's Mike," Augie said, and both brothers hurried to meet him with Loretto following.

  Mike had almost lost his hat in the leap. He was fixing it in place when his brothers reached him. "Boys," he said, "I thought I'd stop by for a visit."

  Augie put his arm around Mike's shoulders and pulled him into the shadowy tight space between a pair of chimneys, the same place where Loretto had first kiss
ed Gina. "They got cops watchin' this place night and day looking for you to turn up here," he said. "They're parked across the street right now."

  "They got cops everywhere looking for us," Mike said, "but they ain't on every rooftop."

  "Wise guy," Freddie said. He grabbed Mike's chin like he might rip his head off but instead embraced him so tightly that Mike grunted as the air was squeezed out of him.

  "Sorry I never came to visit you," Mike said once Freddie let him loose.

  "Didn't I tell you not to come? You were sixteen—" Freddie's thoughts

  seemed to suddenly get crossed, as if he was about to say one thing when something else occurred to him, and as a result he went silent.

  "Maybe he should've come to see you," Augie said. "He might have thought twice before taking up with Irish."

  "Ah, let up, will ya?" Mike straightened out his jacket, tugging at the lapels. To Loretto he said, "What are you doing here?"

  Freddie said, "Gina invited him to join us for a family diner."