August 6, 1925
Three Weeks Later
Zora whistled to herself happily as she quickly counted the money that had been presented to her. She had just dropped off a shipment of Dixon's Vixen at the Charming Chassis, a gin mill that specialized in exotic dancers who were known for their risqué costumes. It wasn't quite a gentlemen's club, as it did still draw in some female clientele, but it had a reputation nonetheless.
Dixon's Vixen seemed to be getting its own reputation as well. It had now been on the market for two and a half months, and demand was growing. The four speakeasies Zora sold to were consistently ordering more product, and she was actually surprised that Daryl had been able to keep up. His still wasn't the largest, but they had been able to meet the demand thus far. However, the demand for Dixon's Vixen had far surpassed the demand for the lower tier shine Zora purchased from Louis, and it had been some time since she had contacted him for another order. It was a problem she knew she would have to address soon, but she would come to that hurdle when it could be put off no longer.
Seeing that the money was all in order, Zora stashed the payment in her purse and threw a wave to Jimmy, the owner of the joint, before heading out the back door. She made her way toward her car, still whistling a bit on account of her good mood. As she approached the driver's side, she noticed a man leaning against the alley wall nearby with a cigarette in his hand, his eyes on her. She flashed him a polite smile and made to open the door.
"Hey there, Betty Bootlegger," the man called to her suddenly. She froze and frowned, startled.
"Pardon me?"
The man flicked the gasper to the ground and sauntered closer to her. She instinctively took a step back, her hand brushing against her dress where her gun was strapped to her thigh beneath the fabric. The man raised his hands in a surrender of sorts, but his smug expression didn't falter.
"I mean you no harm," he said, now only a few paces from her.
"What do you want?" Zora asked, eyes narrowed.
"You're the doll who sells good hooch, ain't ya?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Zora replied dismissively.
"You are," the man said decidedly. "I watched you pull up here with a car full of booze, and I watched the gentlemen from the Chassis unload it for you."
Zora cursed herself and Jimmy's men for not checking that the alleyway was clear before unloading. She hadn't seen this man when she had arrived, but she hadn't been looking for him either.
"What do you want?" she asked again.
"Word on the street is that you sell great shine," he said.
"Look, fella, I don't know what you've heard—"
"I didn't believe it at first, a woman sellin' hooch. But now I've seen it with my own two eyes. Here you are, Betty Bootlegger in the flesh."
Zora pursed her lips, refusing to confirm what the man had heard.
"Look, I work for Vinnie Morello down at the Drum Lounge. He got a taste of your product at Peachtree—Dixon's Vixen, I believe? Catchy name—and he'd like to meet you. Talk a little business."
Zora narrowed her eyes. The Drum Lounge was a large speakeasy, one of the largest in town. It was known for its great live jazz and dancing. She realized suddenly that she had taken Daryl there on the night he had come to Atlanta. She was suspicious of this man's intent; if anyone was looking to pinch her for selling hooch, it would be easy to find out the name of a large gin mill like the Drum Lounge in order to get her reveal pertinent information.
"Sorry, fella, I think you've got the wrong gal," she said, trying to step around him to move toward her car.
"Now, now, hold on a second," he retorted as he stepped into her path to block her. "I understand your reservations. I don't know that I'd trust a fella coming up to me on the street like this either. But I promise you that the offer is real."
He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card, which he extended to her. Zora gave it a distrusting glance, hesitating for a short moment before accepting it. The card was simple and contained Vinnie Morello's name beneath a larger print that read, "The Drum Lounge."
"Anyone could make one of these cards," Zora said pointedly. "Why should this change anything?"
The man nodded. "How about this? I'll leave you alone, but you come by and see Vinnie sometime soon. He's there after noon most days. He's there right now if you wanna talk to him. Come by and hear it from the man himself."
She studied the card, not saying anything. Finally she opened her purse and slipped the card inside. She looked up and flashed the man a smile.
"You have a nice day, sir," she said politely. This time he allowed her past, and she quickly climbed into her car and started the engine. The man leaned against the wall again and watched her as she drove out of the alleyway and out onto the main road.
Zora worried her bottom lip between her teeth as she came to a stoplight, her mind racing. The Drum Lounge wasn't far away, and she was very tempted to stop over now to see if what the man had said was true. At the same time, she was wary, as the encounter had been odd and unexpected. It also concerned her that she was gaining a reputation of her own. The entire reason she had started smuggling booze was because she would be unlikely to be suspected of such an activity due to her sex. If word got out that "Betty Bootlegger," as the man had called her, was doing business in the area, it could put her operation in danger.
Still, the Drum Lounge was a large joint, and it could drastically increase her and Daryl's business, and therefore, their profits. She sighed and decided it couldn't hurt to go over to the Drum Lounge to see what Vinnie Morello had to say. She would obviously not make any final decisions without Daryl's input, but she couldn't resist learning more about what Morello wanted. She made a left turn to head in the direction of the Drum Lounge, hoping that the outcome would be only positive.
August 8, 1925
Two days later, Zora found herself anxiously tapping her fingers on the steering wheel as she made the drive out to Daryl's to pick up her weekly supply. The meeting with Vinnie Morello had gone well, and he had offered a hefty sum in exchange for a steady supply of Dixon's Vixen. In fact, the amount per jar was slightly higher than what she charged the other joints, and Morello seemed well aware of this fact. Zora was anxious to discuss this new opportunity with Daryl.
She was also anxious to see him, as she always was. Since they had made up after their falling out, Zora had been having dinner with Daryl each week when she went out to pick up a shipment. It was actually her favorite part of every week, and she looked forward to it all week long. If she was honest with herself, Zora recognized that she had feelings for Daryl that went beyond her general attraction to him. But she was so happy to have him back as a friend that she never pushed the boundaries of their friendship. It was difficult, but she just hoped that one day he would give her a sign that he wanted to take their relationship further. Until then, Zora was just happy to have him back as a friend.
She sighed in relief as she finally pulled into the drive and parked behind Daryl's truck. She quickly gave her reflection a once over in the rearview mirror before grabbing her purse and climbing out of her car. She could see Daryl in the vegetable garden in back, and she admired him for a moment as he stood and wiped the sweat that shone on his brow. He noticed her then and his face immediately broke out into a smile, making Zora's stomach do a flip. She made her way toward him, a smile on her face as well.
"Was just picking some okra for supper," he said as she reached him. "Got a couple pheasants roasting inside in the oven."
"Sounds delicious," Zora replied. She bent down to take some of the okra from him, earning her another one of his smiles. He had been smiling more and more as they continued to grow closer, and she had dared to let herself believe that those smiles were reserved only for her.
Once he had picked enough okra for the two of them, Zora followed him inside the house, the wonderful aroma of the pheasant in the oven washing over her. She went to the sink and began washing the okra, even though Daryl always insisted that he didn't want her help preparing dinner. He always said that she was his guest, and she always ended up helping him despite his protests. Now it was an almost unspoken argument, with him sending her a mock glare and her rolling her eyes and continuing to help.
"I need to talk to you about something," Zora said after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
Daryl frowned a little. "Okay, shoot."
"How would you feel about expanding our business?"
"How do you mean?"
Zora cracked an egg into a bowl, whisked it for a few moments, and began coating the okra with it. Daryl handed her a bowl of cornmeal, his brows still knitted together in confusion.
"You remember that big speak we went to in Atlanta? The one that got raided?"
Daryl nodded and shifted uncomfortably, and Zora knew he was probably remembering their kiss in the alleyway shortly after escaping the club. She felt her cheeks flush a bit, and she looked down to the bowl of cornmeal in front of her as she coated each piece of okra with it.
"Well, it's called the Drum Lounge, and it's one of the largest and best gin mills in the area. The fella who owns the joint, Vinnie Morello, is a big cheese of sorts. Anyway, he got a taste of Dixon's Vixen while he was at Peachtree one night, and he was impressed to say the least. He wants to do business with us, and he's offering more money than the other joints, too."
"How much?"
"Seven clams a jar," Zora replied. She placed the okra into the hot pan Daryl had put on the stove, the sizzling sound filling the kitchen as it fried.
"That was a pretty big joint though," Daryl recalled. "It's already getting tight with the demand from the other places."
Zora nodded, knowing this to be true. Daryl looked thoughtful, chewing on his thumbnail in concentration for a few moments.
"I'd need a bigger still, that's for sure," he said. "Might know a guy who can help with that."
"Oh?"
"Fella Merle used to run around with. He's a blacksmith, but he can work with copper, too. He's an all right fella. Could see about getting a new still or two from him."
"That would be swell," Zora grinned. "And of course I'll help you cover the costs of the new equipment."
Daryl shrugged, and Zora put her hands on her hips.
"Don't play it off like it's no big deal. We're partners, so we'll split the cost 50/50."
Her tone was resolute, and Daryl's mouth twitched into a slight smile. He nodded.
"Okay then."
Zora grinned, and Daryl reached into one of the kitchen cabinets to procure two glasses, his body just slightly touching hers as he did so. Zora had to control the urge to shiver at the contact and instead focused her attention on the okra frying in front of her on the stove. Daryl grabbed a jar of moonshine from the lower kitchen cabinet and poured some into each of the glasses. He held one of the glasses to her, which she graciously accepted.
"Here's to more hooch, and more importantly, more scratch!" he said, raising his glass. Zora smiled and raised her glass to his with a soft clink.
"To Dixon's Vixen," she said.
They each took a deep drink, and the burn of the shine raised goosebumps along Zora's arms. She set down her glass to tend to the okra, which was soon ready, as was the pheasant. Before long, she and Daryl were both seated at the kitchen table with their meals in front of them. Zora was excited about the opportunity to expand their business, but at the moment, she was absorbed in the feeling of ease and contentedness she felt eating a relaxing dinner with her partner. Daryl had quickly become her favorite person to spend time with, and at the moment, eating dinner in his lantern-lit kitchen, there was nowhere else she would rather be.
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