I was in the middle of a GOT story when I watched ATTWN again and now I'm writing this...an embarrassment of riches it would seem. Thank you for reading this and please let me know what you think if you can, it's always appreciated.
There was nothing more they could do that night; Kit needed to put some very subtle feelers out as to how they could gain access to Giametti. Philip agreed to return the next evening and he left.
"As God is my witness that's the handsomest man I've ever seen." exclaimed Miriam, emerging from the dark hallway.
"I didn't notice." Kit replied without looking at her.
"Liar." Miriam said hoping to raise a smile but Kit was too distracted.
"It's past eleven but Mike should still be up?" she asked but didn't wait for a reply and went down stairs with the rum bottle. Miriam put the envelope in the wall safe and tidied away the glasses. She had a bad feeling about this job but knew Kit didn't set much store by instinct; she also had a feeling about the Irishman but it wasn't bad so much as…portentous.
"Did you bring the rum?" Mike asked without looking at Kit. He was sterilising the tattoo equipment, which meant he was dipping them in bathtub gin and putting them back on the tray. Kit placed the bottle between them, sat in the tattoo chair and closed her eyes.
"I saw that snaky bastard Lava come through, you working for him again?" Mike uncorked the rum and drank from the bottle.
"I've no choice, I need the money." Mike handed her the bottle and she took a long drink then held it out to him with her eyes still closed.
"Who was the other one, the Irish one?" Mike asked.
"How did you know he was Irish, did he speak to you?" Kit sat up and looked at Mike who shook his head.
"I'd know a fellow countryman anywhere, we've a special look…the black dog of melancholy is always on one shoulder."
"Mike it's me, you can drop the act." Kit took another drink and Mike's face lost the hangdog look.
"Alright I was only joking, he's a fella who's making quite a name for hisself. There was a bit of trouble before the war, something about a load of murders on an island, he was the only survivor. Before that he was in Africa, diamonds and so forth; travelled in India doing his bit to maintain the British rule of the whole fecking world. A bloodthirsty bastard so I'm told. You want to be a bit handy round him." Mike licked the rolling paper and lit the pathetic cigarette. Kit had offered him hers time and again but he claimed his were better than any shop bought shite…she'd tried one once and nearly lost a lung.
"How do you know all of this?" she asked.
"A mate of mine worked the boat he came over on. There was a bit of gambling below deck and your man there got in on the action. Not much of a talker according to Sham but he could make an oyster to give up the pearl. What's your take on him?" and he watched as Kit lit a cigarette and rubbed her hand over her eyes.
"Could be better, could be worse. He'll cause me trouble but maybe not as much as someone else. He appears to dislike Lava, which goes in the pros column. He knows his business…clever…astute…as long as he doesn't get in my way, he should be fine."
"What's the job?"
"Information on Giametti's operations. But Lava's going to double cross me as soon as it's done." and Mike hissed through his teeth.
"Jesus Mary, Lava's to make a move on Giametti? It'll be an all out fucking war and you'll be right in the middle of it girl. You'll need to be boxing clever from the off. You looking for some divine retribution after last time?" but Kit ignored the question.
"Do you know anyone in Giametti's gang? All I need is one point of access, I can do the rest."
"My second cousin's wife's brother works in one of his clubs, leave it with me and I'll see what I can do."
"Thank you, is it the usual fee?" and Kit took another drink as he nodded. Mike remembered when he had first met her; he'd known she was something different and she'd proved him right except for her first dealing with Lava. He could still see the faint outline of the bloodstain on the wooden boards beneath his table.
Philip stared at the fan turning lazily above his bed. He tuned out the other noises, the shouts and screams of pleasure and pain, and replayed the evening. He was now surer than ever that Lava was planning to double cross him, he could smell it. His thoughts then drifted unbidden to Kit; women never held his interest for very long, they were all the same underneath. The only woman who had ever come close to scratching his soul had shot him, left him for dead and then hanged herself…Vera… Kit appeared to be immune to his charm, which was novel if inconvenient, she was obviously comfortable enough with violence…but…
Here, Philip lost his clarity, there was that something…a whisper that was hidden from him for now…His eyes began to close and he sunk into a sleep filled with disappearing green statues, a red bathing suit, screaming gulls and burning African bush stained with blood…out of which emerged a big cat with dark eyes.
Wiping the shaving soap from his chin, Philip stared at his reflection in the speckled mirror. Shrugging on a clean shirt, he left off the tie and opted for a sports jacket, this was a humid city. He made his way back to the tattoo parlour and pushed open the door.
"Flip the closed sign there pal." came a voice and Philip saw the tattooist wiping his hands on a filthy looking rag, "Kit will be down soon. You'll be wanting a drink." and he poured two measures of rum without waiting for a reply.
"May the Devil say a prayer for you." said Mike and swallowed his drink, Philip did the same. The older man stared hard at him.
"So tell me now what's a fine Irish boy like yourself doing in this Soddom and Gommorah?" Mike asked, his joviality undercut with tension.
"Earning money." Philip replied leaning forward.
"I shoulda known you were a Dublin man from your walk." and Mike spat on the floor.
"Why don't you cut the old country bullshit, I left a long time ago, so did you. If you've got something to say, just say it." Philip's voice was low and dangerous.
"If you do something to put Kit in harms way, I'll hunt you the length and breadth of this world and the next and then I'll make you wish you'd died at your mother's tit." Mike was suddenly not such a cheap caricature anymore. Philip felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as the older man leant forward and his hand automatically went to his pocket where he kept his gun.
"I was running with the big boys before you were a stain down your mammy's leg and I've lived to tell the tale so don't even think about going for that revolver in your pocket. You've been a killer for a while I'm thinking? Well good for you son, come back to me when you've a tally that would make even the Devil blush."
"What's Kit Lockwood to you?" Philip forced himself to place his hands on the table.
"What Kit is to me is none of your feckin' business." the older man was suddenly defensive.
"Does she need you to protect her?" Philip asked, taking advantage of this change.
"Kit doesn't need protecting from anybody but herself. You ever hunt big game?" Mike watched the younger man nod slowly.
"Then you'll have seen how the big males will make all the noise and throw themselves about each other…posture if you like? But tell me this, hunter boy…who were the most dangerous? Who caused you the most difficulty?"
"The females." Philip replied quietly.
"The females." repeated Mike and gave Philip a look that suggested he had passed a test, "Kit is like one of your lionesses. If she likes you, she'll fight to the death to protect you but if you cross her she'll rip your chest open and feast on your insides while you die. But there are hunters out there with better traps, bigger guns and sometimes she forgets that…" Mike looked at the floor and Philip followed his gaze to a faint stain on the boards.
"Mr Lombard, you're on time." Kit walked through and sat down by Mike, she took a drink from his glass. Philip observed the easy familiarity with something close to jealousy.
"Miss Lockwood. Have you pointed a gun at anyone today?" he asked, staring at her intently but she remained unmoved.
"I haven't needed to…yet. Shall we get on?" and Philip nodded.
"Giametti owns several clubs around the city, some high class and some less salubrious. An invitation to his most prestigious club The Atomic Lounge has been procured; it will be a big event as Giametti is celebrating his 50th birthday. I take it you own a tuxedo?"
"Yes, I own a tuxedo." Philip replied sarcastically.
"Good, make sure it's clean and pressed. You and I will pose as rich newlyweds just arrived in Manhattan and looking to spend some money. If we can gain access to Giametti's inner circle we can get valuable intelligence that can be passed on to Lava, we can get the rest of our money and that will be that." Kit sat back and lit a cigarette.
"So you've got it all planned out?" Philip asked.
"Do you have a better idea?" Kit snapped.
"No." he answered, shifting uncomfortably and Mike gave a smile.
"I thought not. The party is tomorrow night so you and I need to become comfortable with each other."
"What?" Philip's eyes widened with shock.
'Oh calm yourself; I'm not suggesting anything indecent. If we are to pass as a married couple we need to become familiar."
"What are you suggesting Miss Lockwood?" his voice became lower, softer.
"We need to dance together." she said flatly.
"What?" Philip laughed with surprise.
"We need to dance together." she repeated.
They were back in the room upstairs; the lights were low and the curtains fluttered in a slight breeze. Philip had removed his jacket and was watching Kit set up the record player; he tipped the last of the rum into his glass and swallowed. He'd had a cursory introduction to a small, dark haired woman called Miriam who appeared to live with Kit and Mike had followed them up the stairs. Kit blew the dust off a record and turned to him.
"I suggest we break the ice with a basic quickstep. Miriam, the record if you please?" and the strains of 'It don't mean a thing…' filled the room.
It turned out they were both quite good dancers. After a few false starts where Kit forgot she wasn't leading they found their rhythm quickly. They moved fluidly over the floor looking for all the world like a couple in love. As the name suggested it was a fast dance and the night was hot and sticky; Kit's skin became rosy and flushed, Philip's carefully combed hair fell over his face, the natural curl coming back. As Duke Ellington and his orchestra finished with a flourish, they stopped, breathless and thirsty. Miriam was ready with whiskey and sodas for all and they drank them gratefully.
"What's next then Ginger?" Philip asked, brushing his hair from his forehead and Kit gave him a surprised smile.
"A foxtrot; take it away maestro." and Miriam carefully placed the needle on the record. The opening of bars of 'Cheek to Cheek' began. Philip guided Kit across the cracked linoleum floor above a tattoo parlour in the seedy Bowery area of a sick city because a gangster was paying them to get enough information so he could kill a rival. He pressed his cheek against hers and Kit felt the roughness of stubble that was already coming through even though she could smell the shaving soap. Kit's skin was soft and smooth, her hair was bursting from the comb and he caught the sent of lavender; he tightened his grip on her waist and she closed her eyes.
"I must have seen Top Hat a dozen times; my heart always fluttered when Fred span and then dipped Ginger." sighed Miriam, watching them with her chin on her hands. Mike snorted and rolled another of his cigarettes.
As the song reached its crescendo they slowed to a stop and Philip bent Kit backwards; her fingers gripped his shoulders and he could feel the heat through his shirt. He pulled her upright and Miriam burst into a spontaneous applause. Kit straightened her clothes and looked slightly embarrassed.
"Giametti's parties have a reputation for getting quite wild and rumour has it that he's managed to get Benny Goodman and his orchestra to play The Atomic Lounge for one night. How are your swing dance moves?" she glared at Philip who gave her a lazy smile.
"How're yours?" he shot back. Still pinning him with a hard stare she ordered Miriam to change the record. The hard drum intro for 'Sing, Sing, Sing' beat through the room and they began…and they were good. Philip swung Kit around, gripping her hands tightly; Kit moved her hips to the tempo and they used each other's weight to spin and turn. As the beat got faster, so did they; their dancing became almost like a fight, the floor shook with their stamping and their eyes never left each other.
"Devil's music." muttered Mike but Miriam shushed him.
The song finally ended and they were both exhausted. Philip leant over with his hands on his knees, breathing hard and Kit fanned herself with the newspaper.
"Miriam, any chance of another drink?" Kit gasped and moved to the open window, undoing some buttons on her blouse and letting the little breeze cool her skin. She turned back to face the room and leant against the sill. She lit another cigarette and ran a hand over the back of her neck with her eyes closed. Miriam was busy mixing the drinks and so missed the look Philip gave Kit but Mike didn't; the older man had known lust and passion and he'd also known love. Philip was not in love but a lustful passion had been ignited and Mike was quite sure Kit had no idea.
She sipped her drink and felt her heartbeat start to go back to normal. She looked over at Philip who was gulping his whiskey and soda. Miriam was right, he was a handsome devil but that made him all the more useful. A beautiful face, male or female, was an entry ticket to most places; he'd fit right in at Giametti's club.
"Miss Lockwood, would you care to slow dance?" Philip held his hand out and Kit accepted. Miriam put on 'Lover Man (Oh where can you be)' and Billie Holliday's voice slid through the room. Kit rested her face against his chest and allowed him to lead her. He held her hand lightly and the weight of her hand on his shoulder was delicious; his arm around her back kept her close to him and he could feel the curve of her breast against his palm. As the final bars faded he felt Kit pull away and he returned to the room; he looked up and saw Mike glaring at him.
"So what do you think? Do you reckon we could pass for a pair of newlyweds?" asked Kit, sliding the record back into its paper sleeve.
"Absolutely!" said Miriam emphatically.
"Good. It appears the plan can go ahead." she said to Philip, "I suggest you come here first and we can come up with the story of how we met. Shall we say 5 o'clock tomorrow evening?" and he nodded.
"Tomorrow I shall go to the library and see what I can dig up on Giametti from the newspapers." Kit tapped a cigarette out of the packet and the match illuminated her eyes momentarily.
"I'll take a look at the layout of the club." Philip said and Mike noted Kit didn't warn him to remain unnoticed, she appeared to trust the man and this worried him.
"Fore warned is fore armed." Kit said, Philip felt his stomach twist at the memories this threw up.
"Tomorrow evening then, I'll walk you out Mr Lombard." and Kit opened the door.
"Philip." he said quietly, watching her.
"Mr Lombard" she repeated and saw his expression darken but indicated for him to leave.
Mike began to roll another cigarette and Miriam sat down next to him.
"What do you think?" she asked, not quite hiding her worry.
"I think Kit needs to be careful around him. He's got a bit of the Old Adam in him."
"So has Kit." countered Miriam.
"That's what worries me…you don't mix fire and gasoline."
