A/N: ** Chapter 5 and 6 posted the same day, so please read chapter 5 first! ** So this chapter earns the M rating with some smut starting around 2/3 of the way into it FYI. Also, we have Patrick Jane's first appearance! Keep in mind that we are dealing with period typical attitudes/norms. More information in A/N 2.
Early June 1927
"Teresa, I'd like to leave early tomorrow."
She looked at him from her book in curiosity. He never asked to leave for runs earlier. "Ok. Just let me know when I should be ready."
"I'd like to leave before midday."
"That's quite early. Should I make a basket?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "I know, but I thought we might go for a little stroll. It's supposed to be a nice day, and it would be nice to spend a little time out of the city. We can eat at a restaurant."
The next day, as he wanted, they left the city before midday. She stared out of the window nearly the whole way, watching the patches of green for as far as the eye can see. The expansive farmlands they passed were gorgeous. She felt like a child looking at the farm houses and wondering how people lived out here. When they were close enough to the lake, the size of it took her breath away.
He parked in front of what looked like a new house in Saint Joseph, Michigan. He looked over and smiled at her before coming around to open her door. A few weeks ago, he drove them to the library. She hopped out of the car as soon as he parked. While he never minded when they were on runs in the middle of the night, he looked absolutely horrified in the light of day. After that, she learned to stay put and let him open it for her.
As they walked up the walkway, she took it all in. As they entered the house, Sam sought out a man doing some work in one of the rooms. She figured he was a business associate. From the inside and the outside, the house looked rather new. It didn't even have furniture yet. She walked toward the back of the house and noticed that it faced the lake. There was a seated window overlooking the lake. Whoever owned this house had an amazing view! Looking out of the back window, she could see what felt like the ever expansive lake. Sam was right; it was much clearer from this side.
Sam came up behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders before kissing the top of her head. "You can go out if you want to. I'll be out in just a little bit."
She nodded as she walked out onto the beach front. She took her shoes off to feel the sand beneath her feet as she walked toward the lake. She realized a bit too late that she didn't have a blanket, but that didn't matter. She knelt in the sand anyway. It was so beautiful, and the breeze was a welcome change. She felt like she could really breathe.
She heard the sounds of a child's giggles and turned to her right to see two children younger than Jimmy's age playing in the sand with a woman who looked to be their mother nearby. When she caught the blonde haired woman's eye, they shared a smile. It brought to mind her own mama. She used to describe the beaches in the old country. She wondered if she'd ever seen one like this one. Would she like to be here with her? Or would she be disappointed in her daughter for the series of events that led her to be sitting on this beach?
While she was lost in thought, Sam sat next to her in the sand. She only realized he was there when he nudged her shoulder with his own. "Penny for your thoughts?"
"Oh. The lake is gorgeous, and the fresh air is nice."
"Hmm. It is, isn't it?"
He handed her a parcel. "What's this?"
"Well, it's your birthday, so I assume it's for you." He looked at her playfully while she looked at him in confusion. "Open it."
No one had remembered her birthday in years. In fact, she didn't even celebrate it anymore. Mama used to make a chocolate cake for her each year and sing to her at supper. Now, it was just another day to remember what all she lost. She unwrapped it to find a key. "What does it open?"
"The house."
She supposed she needed a key to the house since she lived there now. She didn't have one, but she could always get in from the back. "Oh ok. Thank you."
Now, Sam looked panicked and slightly disappointed. "That's not the response I expected. You don't like it?"
She shrugged. "Sam, your house is your house! It's fine! Why would you ask me if I liked it?"
He chuckled. "I see. That's not the key to our house. Well, not the one in the city." He pointed behind them. "This is our lake house. I got it so we could get out of the city some. I know how much you're always talking about seeing more of the outdoors and being in the open air. I thought we could spend more time here, if you'd like."
She thought her jaw might hit the ground in shock. "You bought me a lake house for my birthday?"
He shrugged. "It was a good investment. I wanted to have somewhere for us to get away to." He slid his hand onto her cheek, looking over her shoulder at the loud little giggles spurting out. He smiled. "Somewhere for us to have little adventures."
"Adventures? You have your business."
"I know, but I've talked to Kimball about helping me run the place. He's got a head for business and a lot of respect in our neighborhood."
Kimball wasn't from their neighborhood, and people said cruel things about him sometimes. Apparently, there had been some gang business some years back where he earned a great deal of respect so people didn't tend to say anything too loud.
He tucked a piece of stray hair that had fallen out of place behind her ear. "Besides, I think my focus is changing."
"What do you mean?"
He gazed past her shoulder once more. "I'm an established man. I have nothing to keep me away and no reason not to enjoy life. I'd like to focus on my family."
"Oh. I see." He bought another house for her. Last time he bought a house for her, he wanted to court her. Now, he was buying a house to marry her.
"I love you, Teresa."
She just swallowed thickly and continued to kneel in the sand next to him quietly. He'd not brought up marriage in a month or so. He was giving her space because it was hard to come to terms with the fact that papa didn't want her around. He bought this lake house because he wanted to get things back on track; he wanted a family.
They sat out in the sand a while longer. It was a nice, breezy day, but when the sun set, it became a bit cool. He took her hand and helped her up from the sand. With her hand in his, he took her through the house, showing her each of the rooms, its features, and his plans for having furniture placed in the home, asking for her input about styles and how she thought they could use the space.
During their run, a terrible weight set in on her chest. She felt sick. Sam was a perfectly nice, respectful man. He was handsome and kind. He was good to her, always looking out for her. When he laughed, it seemed like he brought the whole world to joy. She was glad to be around him and see how he saw the world. Because of how he treated people, she was starting to understand why papa's cruelty upset him so much.
He spent a lot of time and money trying to ensure her happiness. Sometimes, she wondered exactly how much money he had. She always chastised herself for thinking it because his finances were not her concern. He told her he loved her everyday, and he didn't just say the words. He meant them. He wanted her to be his wife; he wanted children. Was she taking advantage of his generosity because she had nowhere else to go? He didn't deserve to be hurt if she didn't feel the same way.
When they got back to the bar after their run that night, she left to go toward the front of the house.
"Wait a second!" He took her hand and led her back to the bar. There was a chocolate cake sitting on the bartop, and Mark was hand cranking ice cream behind the bar. He pulled another item out of his pocket. She unwrapped the cloth to find an emerald necklace.
"Happy birthday, my love!" He kissed the side of her head as her guilt set in.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
A week later, her stomach was a wreck. Nothing had ever been so clear in her life: Sam loved her. Instead of dragging this out and toying with his heart, it would be best to find somewhere to board and look for a job. It would be a tough road, but she would have to do it. She finally worked up the courage to talk to him one afternoon.
He was looking out of the front window when she approached him in the parlor. "You know, we should see if Jimmy wants to go out to the lake house with us for the Fourth of July."
Jimmy and Sam had fallen into such an easy relationship that she didn't quite understand. He liked having Jimmy around. Once Jimmy found out which house was Sam's, he walked over to visit each day. As it was summer and there was no school, Sam had some project or activity for him to do most days.
Sam went to most of Jimmy's ball games with her. She always felt the oddball at those little boys' baseball games, but Jimmy always insisted she come along. At first, the sight of Sam Bosco at a children's baseball game seemed peculiar, but the children loved seeing him. Every time he showed up, he pulled coins out of his pocket and called it "the fund for the future ballplayers of America." Of course, it was for sweets. A few times, he bought a round of hot dogs for the kids. Sam encouraged Jimmy a lot. He would tell him what he did well and how he could improve—but he never chastised him or yelled at him for not getting something right. Sometimes, they worked on his swing while listening to a ball game.
A few weeks back, Sam drove the three of them down to Wrigley Field to watch a game. She'd been here once with their parents and Tommy when they just opened the stadium, but this was Jimmy's first game. He sat in wonder as he cheered the team on, declaring he would be playing for the Cubbies one day, too. Sam held her hand the whole time.
Jimmy always stayed for supper. Indeed, they exchanged dishes each day. She would send him home with food for Stan and for the next morning, and he returned the dishes the next day. Apparently, Stan worked up the courage to approach a newspaper writer, and he was working as an apprentice for the summer. She was so proud of her little brother when he declared he wanted to be a writer. Before Jimmy left for home after supper each evening, he would curl up between her and Sam on the sofa for his bedtime story.
Thinking of Sam and Jimmy's relationship made this difficult because Jimmy looked up to Sam, but she knew she needed to talk to him before things got too far. Things were already too far! He would be crushed, but he didn't deserve to have her taking advantage of him.
"Sam, can we talk?"
"Of course! We can always talk. What's on your mind?"
She fidgeted with her hands. "Sam, you're a very good man. You're very decent and kind, but I think we should end this courtship. You're sweet, but I…"
He closed the space between them and placed his hands on top of her shoulders. "What's wrong, Teresa? Have I done something to upset you?"
"It's just that...I know how you see me. You love me, but I don't think I see you the same way. You do so much for me, and for Jimmy, but I think it's cruel not to say anything and keep this going just because of my situation."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "How do you see me?"
"More like an uncle or an older brother. Like I said, you're very nice, and I've appreciated your care." She thought of how papa had called him her "new papa."
"I hope your brothers don't treat you the way I do. I hope they don't kiss you like that."
She furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't kiss my brothers!"
He brought his hand down and tilted her chin up toward him. "Of course not! That was just a little humor to lighten things up. You look like you're about to fall over. Why do you see me like a brother?"
She didn't know what to say to him. "Well, you're nice to me, and I don't find you hard to be around at all. In fact, you're fun and you have a nice personality. You're very nice to Stan and Jimmy. I just...I don't think I'm in love with you. And I don't want to be cruel to you. I know how much you do to try to make me happy, and I appreciate it, but I don't know how I'm supposed to feel about you. I don't want to take advantage of your generosity. You deserve to be happy too."
"Sweetheart, don't give up on me just yet. When I look at you, I see a brave woman who's so full of personality and knows how to care for everyone—but sometimes, she forgets to care for herself. Let me care for you. Love can grow between us, and until it does, I'm happy to carry that weight for the both of us. You're not taking advantage of me."
He caressed her cheek as she averted her eyes. Would she ever feel that way about him?
"Teresa, I want to ask you something. I know you like when we do things like listen to music, go to ball games, dance, play checkers...you even liked the lake until you learned I bought us a house there. I noticed how you froze up. You've been a little off since then. Do you not like the house?"
"It's a lovely house! I just feel like you're buying things to make me happy, and if I don't feel the same as you do, it's cruel. Sam, I don't want to hurt you. You're very kind and patient."
"And that's just it. You aren't hurting me. Something is making you feel conflicted about your feelings for me. You just told me in a roundabout way that you love me, but it seems like you're afraid."
She was momentarily winded. "No, I didn't say that."
He nodded his head. "You did. No one has ever said so many nice things about me while being afraid they're cruel to me at the same time. I want to understand why it is that you like being around me but you have trouble seeing me as your husband. Are you afraid of our relationship?"
"I'm afraid you will put all of this time into me, and I will give you nothing in return."
He smiled at her. "You've already given me a lot in return."
"And I don't understand that! You smile at me like I make you so happy, but I don't know what I do! I feel terrible and ashamed that I don't know what I do to make you feel that way. If I can't give you that in return, isn't that hurting you? I was so upset you tried to deceive me about courting me, but isn't this me deceiving you?"
"You don't know what you do to make me feel that way?" He scratched his beard.
"No, I don't."
"I think I might understand what your confusion is. Teresa, we share a bed, and I've given signals that I'm...interested in you. Do you think that because I'm older that I won't be able to meet your more personal needs?"
"Personal needs?"
"You know, your needs as a woman?"
"You're a good provider! I wouldn't say anything, except I understand your feelings for me. I don't want to hurt you." In addition to her birthday gifts, he also bought uniforms for Jimmy's entire ball team.
He chuckled a bit before rubbing his beard. "You don't even know what I'm talking about. Of course not. You're a good Catholic girl."
She considered his words. When she thought of how he mentioned her needs as a woman and her being a good Catholic girl, a wave of embarrassment washed over her as his words clicked. She gasped.
"You mean relations?" He nodded. "I've never thought about that!" Her voice was so high she practically squeaked, adding to her embarrassment.
One day last week, she awoke with his arm draped over her breasts; she didn't exactly make haste to get up. She had thoughts, and she touched herself sometimes. Once she touched herself after he kissed her and his beard made her feel very tingly. But she always kept anything like that at a minimum! It wasn't proper, and it was all very private.
He chuckled again. "Stop laughing! Why would you bring that up?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you. I suppose this is the difference in age. I know that you're taught a bunch of things by nuns to the point that you're ashamed of your own body, but you do know they don't know what they're talking about, right? They just want to scare you to make sure you're chaste to find a good husband or whatever."
"And I am."
"I don't doubt you. You'd never been kissed before me, but it's natural, normal even, to have those thoughts and those desires. I've never touched you. I think that might be why you see me more like your brother than a man who desires you and wants you to be his wife."
She could feel her face burning. "No. Of course not." He was very polite and never touched her, and she wasn't sure how she would respond if he tried. He was always very respectful, until this conversation.
He stared at her for a moment, taking her in. She was glad he couldn't read her thoughts because no one ever needed to know the things she thought about when alone. "You know, you don't have to put on for me, right?"
Before she could respond, he kissed her deeply as he pulled her flush to his body. She wanted to pull away, but she had never felt anything with such intensity. Without breaking the kiss, he walked her back so that her back was against the wall. At some point, he slid his hand under her dress. She didn't realize that until the touch of his fingers on the sensitive skin between her legs made her squeal.
"Sam, what are you doing?" As she pulled back from the kiss, he brought his lips to her neck and collar bone, continuing to rub between her legs.
"Showing you exactly why I'm not your papa, your uncle, or your brother. I'm a man who loves and desires his woman." He captured her lips again. She should push him away, but his touches felt pleasant, almost better than when she touched herself even. This must be why they talked so much about the "sins of the flesh" and how they happened so easily.
After a few moments, he pulled out from the kiss, caressing her cheek as his other hand continued its task. She looked up into his eyes. She may not have experience with men, but she could read the mix of love and desire clouding over his eyes, demonstrating the truth of his words. It made her heart beat faster.
She had no idea what exactly emboldened her, but she brought her hand to his face, stroking his beard. He grinned as he kissed her palm. He really was a handsome man, especially when he smiled. Suddenly, his hand was gone and she wondered if she did something wrong. She didn't have to wonder long because he lifted her in the air and found her lips again before carrying her to, and placing her on, the bed.
He whispered in her ear. "My Teresa, let me show you." She nodded her head, not entirely sure what she was agreeing to let him show her and not entirely sure that mattered.
He pushed her bloomers down towards her ankles before bringing his hands and mouth to her again. She placed her hand on his chest, bunching his shirt in her hand. He stopped what he was doing and lifted his shirt over his head. She replaced her hand on his chest. She'd seen him bare chested before, but this was different. Right now, all she could think of was how strong he looked and how she wanted his hands back on her.
Well, he was back and everything seemed more intense than before even. Almost involuntarily, her hips started to rock in his palm as her breath sharpened. He moved his head to the crook of her neck.
He whispered: "My beautiful Teresa. You're so perfect. You make me happy. I love you, sweetheart."
Even though she believed he loved her, it felt so much different hearing it right now. Almost out of nowhere her eyes slammed shut as her hips sped up. If it was possible to see pleasure, she was seeing it as her already staggered breath gave way to an embarrassingly loud string of moans.
He kept going, encouraging her even. "That's it, sweetheart. Don't be shy. Let me hear your beautiful song." By the time she cried out, she felt completely spent. Abruptly, he pulled away and sat up like he was burned. "I, uh, I need to go...take care of something. You can stay here."
On instinct, she got up on her knees, crawling to him and placing her hand on his shoulder. He twisted to look at her with that heavy look still in his eyes. He desired her, and he wanted her desire. She could do that. She framed his face with her hands and kissed him. As she deepened the kiss, he brought his arm around her waist.
He broke their kiss and regarded her for a moment. That look in his eye was even stronger now. He brought his free hand up her thigh and started to lift her dress again. This time, he pulled it all the way over her head before he met her lips again and pulled them down to the bed.
To her surprise, he pulled back. "Did I do something wrong?"
His voice was a little different before. It was husky. "Not at all, sweetheart. You are absolutely perfect. I just want to look at your beautiful body." He brought his hands to her brassiere and unfastened it, pulling it open. She was completely bare in front of him now. She gasped when he started to massage her breasts.
"Do you like the way I touch you, baby?"
"Yes!" Perhaps that was a bit too eager.
He smirked. "Good."
"I need to know if you'll do something for me. You can say no, and I'll leave. I won't be angry, but I need to know now."
"What do you want me to do? I—I don't want you to leave."
His smirk turned to a genuine smile. "That's good to hear. Your kisses and your song got me so worked up that I need you. I won't hurt you. I just want to rub myself against your beautiful body. Will you let me?"
She nodded her head. He flipped her onto her side so that her back was to him. He started to pepper kisses onto her jaw and neck. Wrapping his arm around her belly, he pulled her into him, flesh to flesh. She felt his length hard against her backside. She should have been scared to death, screaming for him to get away. She should be embarrassed by her actions and ready to seek forgiveness-but she wasn't.
He leaned over her and met her eyes. "You're not going to throw anything at me for touching your backside are you?"
She giggled. "I should've never told you that story!"
"I'm glad you did. It keeps me honest!" He started to stroke her cheek. "I mean it, baby: if you don't like this, you can tell me to stop. You can always tell me to stop, and I will. I won't hurt you."
He called her "baby" again. She liked the way it sounded. When she responded, her voice was barely above a whisper. "Ok."
He started to grind his hips into her backside, letting his hand fall between her legs once more. She rocked in his palm harder than she did before.
When she brought her hips back into his, he slapped the headboard and groaned. "Teresa!"
"Did I hurt you?" She tried to lean forward to check on him, but he held her tightly in place.
"No, just keep doing that for me, baby. Rock your hips for me. That feels so good!"
She nodded as he continued to pepper kisses on her, whispering: "My sweet Teresa, you bring me so much joy, so much pleasure. I love you, my pretty Irish lass. I want you to be my wife. Mine. I love you. I love you."
She was moaning again, but this time, so was he. His declarations had her seeing stars. He brought his shirt between them as he let out a series of grunts and groans before going completely still with his ragged breaths.
Slowly, she turned to face him. As he started to caress her cheek, she was ashamed to look at him. She didn't dare look down, even in her curiosity. She'd already made enough of a spectacle of herself.
"Sam, I hope you don't think I'm a wanton woman."
He laughed. "Wanton? Is that some fancy word for acting like a normal woman?"
"I hope you know that I, well, I've never done that before. So I'm sorry."
"Sweetheart, what are you even apologizing for?"
"The noises...my actions."
"You have nothing to apologize for! I certainly enjoyed it! I hope you did, too."
She blushed. She very much enjoyed it. "You don't think less of me?"
"Why would I? You acted as a woman experiencing pleasure. That was the point."
"Are you sure? I just don't want you to think…"
"What? That you're a bad girl. I know you're not. You know, I've been with women before, right?"
"Sure." Her face was red, but she wasn't surprised. It was kind of expected that boys would go off and make themselves men. Girls were expected to keep pure until marriage. It didn't make much sense to her.
"That came out wrong. I just meant that to say that you don't have to be embarrassed. Women like this stuff as much as men. I don't want you to feel shame for that, and you don't have to keep staring at the wall. You can look at me."
She smiled nervously as she met his eyes. He was grinning like a fool, which helped her nerves settle almost immediately. "There's that beautiful smile! So I don't still seem like a brother, do I?"
He was teasing her, but she understood his question. He definitely was not like a brother.
"I suppose not. I would never carry on with one of my brothers like that."
He chuckled. "I should certainly hope not!"
"Did that...count?" She wasn't dense enough not to know what the carnal act was, but she didn't know where this fell in the scheme of things.
"No. That's a very specific act. We didn't."
She felt like she had. Wasn't that the part where she cried out? "How do you know?"
"Because it only counts if you can make a baby from what you did. We didn't do anything that can make a baby. There's many ways to make love, sweetheart." He placed his forehead on hers. "I am happy to show you all of them. I will worship my Saint Teresa as often she wants and in all of the ways she wants."
She swatted his chest, and he laughed. He draped his arm over her before he kissed her once more. She came to talk to him about not feeling the same way that he did, but maybe she did? She certainly desired him, as she felt the heat pooling in her belly again from his kiss. If she desired him, was that the love he felt for her? Was that how she was meant to feel about him? She fell asleep on his chest a few minutes later.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When she woke it was much later, he was gone. Seeing the time, she knew he was out back and she should go find him. When he saw her, he smiled at her like she was the only person in the room. She couldn't help but return his smile. He had that effect sometimes.
Like always, he tapped the seat next to him. As she slid in next to him, she nudged his shoulder with her own.
"Did you have supper?"
"Not yet. I was waiting for you."
"You could've woken me."
"You needed your rest." He winked at her. "Besides, there's nothing interesting happening out here tonight."
"Nothing interesting? It's jazz night!" He smiled at that. Every once in a while, he put on a jazz night. He was naturally suspicious of anyone outside of the neighborhood, but he loved jazz. He played his jazz records more than anything, which is how she found her own love of jazz.
Occasionally, he would seek out a singer or two to come and play at the bar. Usually, jazz nights brought in a little younger crowd along with the guys who just wanted to get drunk. Tonight, there was a new singer-a black woman who wore a red dress that dropped just below her knees, trimmed in black with a black neck tie, and painted red lips screamed refinement. Her hair was perfectly waved, making Teresa touch her own hair, wondering whether she should change it. Sam seemed to like her hair though.
The upbeat jazz tune that the woman sang gave way to a slow ballad. Really, she had the voice of an angel as she started to croon "Someone to Watch Over Me."
"I like her."
"Yeah? She's good. Maybe we can get her back again before she passes through." He laced their fingers together under the table, bringing their hands to rest inside of his thigh. He loved this song. When they were at home, he would sing it to her sometimes to remind her of their first dance. She swallowed a bit thickly when she recognized how calling Sam's house her home came with such ease now.
"Passes through?"
"She's traveling with some carnival circuit."
She scoffed. "That woman on the stage is in the carnival? You could've fooled me!"
"I know. She's very clean cut. I guess she just travels with them."
"Huh. I like her even more."
He smiled as he squeezed her hand. "Of course you do!"
After the song ended, another singer replaced her on stage. "Do you mind if I go chat with her for a bit? Then, I'll go fix supper."
He looked at her. She could tell he wanted to kiss her, but he never did that in public. "Don't worry about supper. One of the boys brought a couple of pizzas. I'll have them heat them up. Go talk to her."
On her way out to the back room to see her, she stopped off at the bar. She'd been so quick to sit down that she didn't grab her lemon water first.
"Hey, Mike! How are you tonight?"
The young blond barkeep nodded at her. "I'm doing just fine. Do you want your usual, Miss Lisbon?"
She smiled politely. "You know it!" She tried to keep her interactions with the boys limited. She knew Sam didn't mind her talking to them, but she also knew that while he took a cool approach with her, he scared them. She didn't want to linger and make them uncomfortable, in fear of losing their work.
A young man not far from her spoke out. "I'd also like two lemon waters as well please!" No one else here ever ordered lemon water, so she turned to look at him in curiosity.
"Two lemon waters? You should pace yourself."
The man with golden curls turned to look at her wide eyed. He had eyes so blue that she imagined that's what the ocean looked like. "Pace myself? This is what I call a good time!"
She laughed at that. Mike placed her water in front of her, she was off toward the backroom to talk to that incredible singer. Only, she noticed the young man from the bar wasn't far behind her.
She stopped in her tracks. "Can I help you with something?"
"Uh, no. I'm carrying these waters just fine."
"Why are you following me?"
He blinked rapidly. "I'm not. I'm headed toward the backroom. My friend, Madeleine, was just singing and she's thirsty."
"You're friends with the lady who was singing?"
"I am."
"I was headed back to meet her. She sounds so great! Can you introduce me?"
"I'd be happy to make introductions, Miss Lisbon. It's nice to meet you. By the way, I'm Patrick Jane."
"Likewise, Mr. Jane. Shall we?" She let him lead the way to the backroom. Even if she knew how to get there, it was nice to have someone to introduce them.
As he entered the room, he handed her a glass of water. "Thank you, Patrick. Who is your friend?"
"Not my friend. This is Miss Lisbon, I believe she's the owner of this establishment's wife. Miss Lisbon, this is Madeleine Hightower."
"It's nice to meet you, Miss Lisbon."
"Please, it's Teresa. And likewise, Madeleine. But I'm not the owner's wife."
Patrick whistled from the corner of the room. "You know, for future reference, you should go with being his wife. It's nicer than being called a kept woman."
Her eyes shot open wide as she spun on her heels and the other woman gasped. "I beg your pardon?!"
"You know, the handholding, how he kept staring you down at the bar, that look after you know," he shrugged suggestively before continuing, "and that stuff. Just trying to be helpful."
"Patrick! You promised you wouldn't do anything like this! Please apologize now! Miss Lisbon, I am so sorry he caused offense. He is just my driver."
She was momentarily stunned. Of course, Sam was courting her, she had been living with him, and they'd been very intimate earlier-but there was no way he could know that! Almost on a reflex, she hurled her lemon water into his face.
"You scoundrel! How dare you even suggest something like that? I work here!"
He licked his lips while blinking his eyes a few times, bringing his sleeves to wipe his face. She thought to go get Sam and tell him what this Patrick Jane person had just said to her. He'd throw him out on his ass for sure! She thought better of it because Madeleine seemed perfectly nice and she didn't want her thrown out on his account.
He smirked. "Oh, I don't doubt that you work. I never meant to cause offense, Miss Lisbon. It's just that I can read people and situations really well. My read on you was that you are Mr. Bosco's wife based on the attention he paid to you and how close you were at your table. That kind of attention is more than just a passing fancy for a young tart."
"Great! I'll keep that in mind!"
"Patrick, please! Just go! Again, Miss Lisbon, I am so sorry!" Madeleine looked like she could die from embarrassment.
"It's not your fault, Madeleine. You can call me Teresa." She pivoted a bit. "And you go to hell!"
"Yeah, I'll just go wait outside. I'll be sure to stay out of your way, Miss Lisbon. I'm sorry." With that, he excused himself.
"So your driver, huh?" To be sure, they were a peculiar duo.
"Yes, driving me crazy." Both women laughed heartily at that. Madeleine smoothed down her dress. "He drives me when I have gigs in these types of establishments."
"Oh! I know being in a bar is a little rough sometimes. I had never been inside of one until I started working here."
The woman smiled politely as though there was something Teresa missed, but she didn't exactly want to tell her what. "What is it?"
She swallowed thickly. "I meant, white owned establishments. It's not always safe for me to go out to places alone."
Her face went pale. "Oh. I'm sorry." She wasn't exactly sure what to say to that. A month or so before her mama died, there were horrible riots. Some people from the neighborhood were involved, and her mama said they would not be associated with people who carried on judging and killing people because of their skin color.
"It's not your fault, miss."
"Are you really in the carnival?"
Madeleine laughed. "I just travel with them! Mr. Jane is a performer. Somehow, we became fast friends when I started traveling with the circuit about three years ago."
"Well, may I ask why you travel with them? You have such a lovely voice that I'm surprised you don't have a proper singing job somewhere."
"I had to leave home about three years ago, and the circuit was passing through. I fell in with them. They're a rather accepting, open-minded group of people. It works. Sometimes, I perform at their shows when we are in places like Chicago. Other times, I find outside singing jobs or help out wherever I can."
"Do you know how long you will be here in Chicago?"
"I think we are here for another few weeks or so."
"We'll have to get you to come back for another jazz night! You are so talented. I love your voice, and I'm sure Mr. Bosco does as well."
Certainly, Sam would have her back because he liked good jazz music. When she returned to the table, he was smiling at her again.
"Did you have fun talking to her?"
"She's very lovely! I love her singing." She didn't tell him about that unfortunate incident with her driver. He'd be angry.
"Yeah, do you want her to come back?"
She looked at him in curiosity. "I have no say in the matters of your business, Sam."
He chuckled softly. "I'm asking you if you want her to come back. And it's our business."
"Our business?"
He nodded. "Teresa, everything I have, including my body, is yours. If you want her back, we'll have her back."
She blushed slightly. She looked around before proceeding in a whisper. "Your body?"
He flashed her mischievous grin. "You weren't planning for that to be the only time, were you?"
"You know, I don't really have anything besides my body. It's probably an unfair trade for you, but does that mean it's yours?"
"Only if you're so inclined, sweetheart. And believe me: it's an excellent trade!"
They both laughed as she linked their hands together under the table this time "I'd like to have her back." Sam booked her two more times on the spot.
A/N 2: Please don't take sex ed lessons from Sam Bosco-or anyone else-in this fic lol. That section was about these internal conflicts between a religious upbringing, desire, and other feelings. As someone recently pointed out on Twitter, Lisbon is not a prude in canon. That's true here, too! This is a version of Lisbon who's 21 years old and from a strict religious upbringing in the 1920s. There wasn't a dearth of easily available reproductive education, especially for young, unmarried women when people believed having such information would lead to promiscuity. This will come up again. And we met Jane! He will be back. I had Jane and Hightower link up for a few reasons. Mostly, I knew I wanted Hightower in the story from the first inception of this idea. She's one of my favorite characters of the series, and I thought it would be cool to have her be a Jazz singer. However, it's a hard sell as to why a black woman is floating freely about an Irish-American neighborhood, at night, in Chicago in the 1920s. There was a lot of race/interethnic strife at that time (which I forgot to mention-the Minnelli comments in chapter 1 draw upon). The riots mentioned in the story took place in 1919. When discussing this with a friend of mine, she suggested maybe I have her find a white person who could "give her a pass." A blond haired, blue eyed male driver might do the trick. In canon, Jane and Hightower did have a relatively good relationship working together (Red Gold and Red Queen especially), so I figured why not!
