cords thrum in aching tune as Jenny strokes her damp cheek, presses her lips against the waves of her hairline. It’s not until this has gone on for maybe twenty seconds that I realize Max is purposely not looking at a perfectly typical act of feminine comfort. The question of why they should need privacy has barely entered my grey matter before I’ve answered it, however.
He isn’t my sort, honey, Blossom said about Max.
He’s not my sort either, honey. The very idea, Blossom said about Dr. Pendleton.
Jenny came to Blossom’s room in the middle of the night and didn’t praise her Maker over finding me there. And Jenny is sleek haired, and intelligent, with curves fit to slalom down like Alps. I’m lifetimes too old and several dozen flapper acquaintances too experienced to blush, but I swerve my attention to the vicinity of the cheese cart. In my periphery, I notice Max noticing.
You need to remedy the fact that anytime Max notices you, your entire torso quivers.
“Hush, hush, we’ll set it all right,” Jenny sings. She turns her attention to Max over Blossom’s crown. “So you left off searching?”
Max has already poured four chalice-size glasses of that which is forbidden and sets two in front of them.
“Yep. Searched, kept searching, right up till they tossed us out on our ears.”
“The brutes!” Jenny exclaims. “Where are the others?”
“Miss Christina is here, fishing for some shut-eye before breakfast service. Mavereen’s camped out in a colored diner across the river till the park reopens. Dr. Pendleton left to join her a few hours back. Sober as a goat, says Rooster.”
“What happened exactly?” Jenny asks me. “Earlier. You were there.”
The needling pain between my eyes jabs harder. “Yes, though I’m shrouded in darkness myself. Davy was with us when we went into the fun house, and I was separated from the others in a jiffy because they knew better than to take the first dead-end turn. From thenceforth, I made a dreadful ass of myself, I’m afraid. Had the niftiest dizzy spell in the hall of mirrors, found the exit, and quelque shame, there’s the entire kettle of fish.”
“Who was Davy with specifically?”
Max says, “It was Blossom as had him by the mitt. I been grilling her like a regular chump about it, and we ain’t gonna mess with her no further, see? He ran off like he always does. Not her fault; next topic.”
Jenny rests a smooth cheek against the top of Blossom’s head. “I want it all to have been a bad dream.”
Max balls a fist. “We done searched everything from the floating bathhouse to the pavilion, which was locked up till I raised all hell, then we spread into the woods after they ousted us. Calling out for him, like. Couldn’t see your hand in front of your face to search. Me, I’m gathering the troops. First thing. Then maybe speculating over which heads is asking for knocking. From what they says, I oughta sign that ticket taker up for some dental work.”
Blossom rises, combing her fingers through Jenny’s waterfall of hair. She downs a swig of liquor a pirate might term robust. “Nonsense, Max, you’ll lose the last of your trains tomorrow. They’ll dock you something simply frightful.”
“Yeah, how about that.” Max seats himself at my table with more of the strong stuff, his ankles crossed in front of him, and I partake with religious fervor.
“Aw, there’s my girl.” Max flashes a gallows grin. “That’s Second Lieutenant Toddler to you.”
“No, honestly, you can’t stay.” She seems freshly dismayed, and Max exchanges a look with Jenny.
“Why’s that, then?”
Blossom’s eyes are black and carmine within the sills of her cheekbones, and her voice could finish cement work. “It’s really ever so simple once it’s explained to you, here, I’ll do it gratis. You have to get on one of the trains before noon tomorrow or you’ll lose your job.”
“Eh, good riddance. I’ll get another.”
“Really?” she questions acidly. “What sort?”
“Dunno, angel, but army veteran generally counts for at least one shade offa my skin tone, and I ain’t eager to skedaddle till we bring home the hotel mascot.”
Blossom takes a second swallow of whiskey and, hey presto, the drink has vanished. “You can’t help.”
“How in hell d’ya figure that equation?”
“Because, my sweet, stupid Max, you will not content yourself with mere searching, oh no. You will canvass neighborhoods, question white people. You will be as visible as the Rose Parade. You will march that positively resplendent ass of