The Glittering Life Of Evie Mckenzie

Pride & Prohibition!

New York socialite Evie McKenzie is happy. At least, she tells herself that she must be since she has a ring on her finger from the man of her dreams and the city’s hottest speakeasy named in her honour. But a secret job as a gossip columnist brings the elusive and sinfully seductive Jack Taylor back into her orbit, and resisting him is twice as hard the second time around.

For speakeasy manager Tug Hadley, the roar of the twenties is practically deafening – her eyes and ears are full of opportunity, and she’s ready to grab life with both hands. If only the man she loves wasn’t engaged to her best friend…

Beneath the bootlegged booze and beaded flapper dresses, Evie and Tug must decide how much they’re willing to risk to get what they want in this most decadent era of high-stakes hedonism.

Also available by Delancey Stewart

Prohibited!

The Glittering Life of Evie McKenzie

Delancey Stewart

Copyright

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2015

Copyright © Delancey Stewart 2015

Delancey Stewart asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © June 2015 ISBN: 9781474032568

Version date: 2018-07-23

DELANCEY STEWART

writes contemporary romance and romantic comedy.

Stewart has lived on both coasts of the United States, in big cities and small towns. She’s been a pharmaceutical rep, a fitness trainer and a direct sales representative for a wine importer, but she has always been a writer first.

A military spouse and the mother of two small boys, her current job titles include pirate captain, monster hunter, Lego assembler, homework helper, and story reader. She tackles all these efforts at her current home outside Washington D.C.

Find her at www.delanceystewart.com

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Copyright

Author Bio

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Acknowledgements

Endpages

About the Publisher

Chapter One

Evie

‘Miss Evie, you’re doing it again. Breathe, sweetheart.’ Buck was guiding the small car through the narrow streets as he spoke, staring at Evie seated next to him.

A woman with a baby in a carriage was crossing the street up ahead. Evelyn’s eyes widened as they accelerated toward the woman, and she turned her head to find Buck still looking at her, concern spread across his gentle face. She found that Buck was right, she had been holding her breath. But she let it out to scream, ‘Buckie, look out!’

Buck hit the brakes, and the woman crossed, shooting a look of fear toward the little coupe as she disappeared between parked cars and back up onto the sidewalk. ‘Oh for Pete’s sake,’ Buck said.

‘It doesn’t help my nerves one little bit when you drive like a maniac!’ Evie pulled herself straighter and forced a deep breath in and out. ‘There, see? I’m breathing, okay?’ She smoothed her dark skirt and fidgeted with the little hat that covered her dark curls.

‘I don’t know why you’re lettin’ yer nerves get to you, Miss Evie. You’ll knock ‘em dead, I know it.’

Evie smiled at Buck. He was so much more than her family’s driver and butler. Buck had been with her since she was born, and as she was an only child, he had been her most faithful playmate when she was young. Now that she was a young woman, he seemed happy to be her co-conspirator, helping her manage things that her parents would certainly never approve of. Buck was nothing if not devoted to his charge. Sometimes Evie worried that her antics might compromise Buck’s job if her parents ever found out, but she suspected that her parents loved him just as much as she did. ‘Thanks, Bucky.’

Buck pulled the jalopy up to the imposing Herald Tribune offices at 43rd Street and turned to look at Evie.

‘Oh Buckie, now you look nervous!’ Evie reached a hand out to place along Buck’s pale chubby cheek. ‘Thanks for the ride. Will you wait?’

‘Of course I will. You go up there and show ‘em what you’re made of.’

Evie took a deep breath, doing her best to settle her rampaging nerves, and smiled at Buck. ‘I’ll sure try.’

The offices at the Herald Tribune were busy, and the constant movement between desks and phones ringing reminded Evie of a beehive. Men in dark suits manned most of the desks, many of them furiously typing as others spit words into their phones. A few turned to look as she passed between the desks, following the receptionist back to the office of James R. Tobias, the editor who had placed the advertisement that had brought her there.

The receptionist waved an arm toward an open door after she’d gone in herself to make sure Tobias was in. ‘Go on in,’ she said. She raised an eyebrow at Evie as she watched her enter. The skepticism in her look did little for Evie’s confidence.

‘Hello,’ the big man behind the desk said, rising. ‘Jim Tobias. Please sit down.’

Evie followed directions, placing her small bag on her lap and holding out a piece of paper outlining her scant qualifications.

The man waved it away as he sat. ‘You’re here about the ad, then?’

‘Yes sir, I go to the University, and I …’

‘No, no. Stop right there.’ Tobias barked it, doing nothing to help Evie’s frazzled nerves.

‘All right,’ she tried again. ‘Well, sir, I’m Ev …’

‘For God’s sake, don’t tell me your name!’

Evie swallowed her words and stared at the man. She could feel color rising up her neck as anger began to replace nervousness. He might be in charge, but Tobias was undeniably rude. ‘I might not have a lot of experience with jobs, sir, but it seems like telling you my name and giving you my qualifications would be the right way to start. Maybe I’ve come to the wrong place.’ Evie put her chin in the air, her Upper East Side roots getting the best of her. She didn’t care who this man was, he had no cause to be rude to a perfect stranger.

‘No, no, miss. I’m sorry. I come off rough, I know it.’ Tobias gave her an apologetic smile under his mustache and rubbed his ear. ‘It’s just that for this particular position, it’s better if I don’t know much about you.’

‘Why is that?’ Now Evie was curious.

‘We’re looking for a columnist who can get in with the society crowds, someone who belongs there already, maybe. Someone willing to be anonymous.’

‘Anonymous? Why?’

‘I’d like to do a new column as part of our society pages. A column that spills the news that other people aren’t talking about. A piece that will get people stewing … But no one will talk to you if they know you’re the one ratting out all the juicy secrets, right?’ Tobias smiled, his dark eyes twinkling in the ruddy face.

‘I see,’ Evie said, her mind spinning. She had come here to be a real writer, to learn how a newspaper worked. She had no idea that the advertisement she’d seen at school was to work as a gossip writer. Her parents would never approve.

‘Forgive me saying, but you look like you might be the right type of girl. You know some of the people regular New Yorkers would like to read about?’

‘I’m not sure who that would be,’ Evie said, not sure if she should be offended.

‘Look, I’m willing to give you a try, sweetheart. I know this isn’t exactly hard news. But you got a chance here to be on the edge of somethin’ new – stir things up a bit. Can you get in with the right crowds? Politicians, celebrities, society types? Would you be comfortable at the clubs?’ He raised a bushy eyebrow and shook his head, then muttered to himself. ‘Naw, probably not. Good girls who can run around like debutantes don’t go to clubs. Maybe this isn’t gonna work.’

Evie smiled. He had no idea how comfortable she was with just those types of people, and clubs would be nothing new to her. Her boyfriend, Roger, was the owner of a speakeasy on the east side, and she’d had a short interlude with another club proprietor, too. Despite the fact that she was only eighteen, and a sheltered debutante, Evie had a wealth of experience in just the types of situations Tobias was looking for. ‘I think I could manage it.’

Tobias stopped muttering and stared, surprise raising his eyebrows high. ‘All right. Let’s try ‘er out. Write me a column – something juicy that will get people’s wheels spinning; something you’d have to be an insider to know. Five hundred words? I’ll give you a week.’

‘But I shouldn’t put my name on it?’

‘Put a name on it, sure. Just not your real name. Got me? And if I were you, I wouldn’t mention this to anyone. You’d be surprised how people quiet down around you if they think you’ve got an agenda.’

Evie nodded slowly as she thought about what she was being asked to do. ‘What about payment?’

Tobias regarded her with amusement sparkling in his eyes, his head tilted to one side. ‘Drivin’ a hard bargain?’

‘No, I just believe that I should be compensated for my work. I came here looking for a job, sir. Not a hobby.’

‘Of course you did.’ Tobias stood up. ‘This one’s a trial run. If it works out, we’ll give ya fifty cents a column.’

Evie tried not to react. Though fifty cents was not a lot, it was also more than she’d ever made doing anything, and it sounded a lot like freedom to her. She gave Tobias a curt nod to let him know that would be acceptable.

‘All right, kid. Good luck.’ Tobias waved her off, and Evie picked up her bag and let herself out, her smile growing wider as she made her way through the noisy offices and back down to the car, where Buck waited.

‘Well?’ he asked.

She jumped up and down and squealed. ‘I have a job, Bucky!’ Then, as a thought crossed her mind, she stood still and made her voice small. ‘Please don’t tell Daddy.’

‘Should I even ask why, Miss Evie?’ Buck opened the door for her and they drove back up to the McKenzie home on the Upper East Side.

‘It’d probably be better if you didn’t.’

‘Oh dear.’

*****

‘Hello, darling.’ Evie’s mother had a knack for waiting just inside the door when Evie arrived home. Evie suspected that she could probably hear the car coming up the street. It wasn’t exactly quiet.

‘Mother.’ Evie couldn’t help but grin as she came inside. The chill March air clung to her coat and Buck pounded his hands on his thighs behind her, seeming to send puffs of cold off of him in clouds.

‘You look pleased.’ Mrs McKenzie looked worried as she said it, her lips pulling into a hard straight line and wrinkles appearing between her eyes.

‘And that makes you look worried,’ Evie said, hanging her coat. ‘I am happy, Mother. You should be happy, too.’

‘Why are we happy today?’

Buck passed them, heading for the kitchen, and Evie watched him go. He was a good friend to her. ‘No reason, Mother. It’s just a lovely day and I’m happy.’

Mrs McKenzie’s face relaxed. ‘Well, then I’m happy too.’ She turned to fuss with some things arranged on a shelf in the entry. As her hands moved over the shelf she said, ‘Evelyn, the Whites are coming for dinner. Please be ready at seven.’

‘That sounds lovely.’ Evie climbed the stairs to her own room, smiling at the thought of spending an evening with Roger. He had been at Yale for his last semester, but managed to return to the city almost every weekend to see her and to check in on his business. Evie sat on the edge of her bed, excited to tell him about her new job. But as she turned it over in her mind, she realized that she wouldn’t be able to. Mr Tobias had suggested that she couldn’t tell anyone. She sighed. It seemed Buck would be her sole conspirator, as he so often was.

Evelyn pulled open a book for school and tried to lose herself in Roman mythology, but found that her mind wouldn’t stay on her studies. As a new student at New York University, she felt she had a lot to prove – especially to her mother. But today she couldn’t focus. She was too excited. She pulled out a notebook instead, and began trying to think of a clever pseudonym for her column.

Chapter Two

Tug

Elizabeth ‘Tug’ Hadley leaned across the bar top, her gaze sweeping the small space before her. PJ and the boys were playing in the corner, their little trio throwing out notes that just a few years ago would have sounded cacophonous. Jazz had swept the city. The club was just beginning to fill up, and the little tables in the far corners held couples on dates, off-duty policemen and single men just looking to relax and unwind after a long week. To Tug, it was all perfect.

Ever since Roger and Chuck had asked her to manage their club, she’d felt like her life had found its rhythm. She would never be a debutante like her best friend Evie – not now, anyway – and her parents didn’t have enough money to quietly ignore her like Janie’s. No, she would have to be a different kind of woman altogether. The kind who made it on her own.

There had been a time when the idea of working at all would have been abhorrent – if not to her, then to her mother who essentially told her what to think about the world. Mrs Hadley had spent Tug’s childhood setting in place a fragile scaffolding that would allow her daughter to climb much higher than her own social standing had allowed her to do. She’d raised Tug to believe she would one day open her door to find the world delivered to her on a silver platter.

But those days were long since gone. Tug’s mother had taken Tug’s future with her when she’d left, and what Tug needed more than anything was for someone to believe in her ability to change, to redefine herself.

And Roger and Chuck had given her a shot.

‘You okay, Chuck? I’m going down to finish setting up our little experiment downstairs.’ Tug turned to the lanky blond man leaning across the bar top.

Chuck handed a drink to the red-cheeked man sitting alone at the end of the bar and shot Tug a smile. ‘I got it, Tug. You go ahead. I’ll be fine.’

‘I think Roger’s back. We should see him in a bit, so I want to make sure things are perfect.’ Tug pulled on her coat as she talked.

She cared what Roger thought. About her efforts at his club. And about her, too. It was pointless, really, and she knew it. She told herself every night just how ridiculous her crush was. But it didn’t seem to make a difference to her heart. Roger White was handsome and kind, successful and smart. He was exactly the kind of man she’d been raised to marry. And he was practically engaged to her best friend. ‘Let’s make sure we keep everything spic and span.’

‘I always do.’ Chuck sighed.

*****

Tug climbed up the stairs and let herself out onto the street, glancing around out of habit. The club, a small speakeasy called Evie’s, had been raided a few times since she’d been managing the place. But they’d never run into any real trouble. And part of the reason for that was the clever system Roger had worked out to drop the liquor off the shelf at the quick pull of a switch. The downside to his system was that the bottles dropped a full story into the basement below the bar, shattering on impact. The basement had never been discovered by the authorities, since it didn’t physically link to the building under which it sat. And according to public record, the building where Evie’s operated had no basement. Tug suspected that oversight had been achieved by Roger’s ability to charm people and to grease official palms when needed.

Tug climbed the stairs leading up to the front door of the residential building next door to the club and fitted her key into the lock. She pushed through the vestibule and walked quickly to a back stairwell that led down to the garden apartment below. She used another key to let herself in there.

A small desk sat against one wall, and a low table and a few chairs were scattered about the small space. Roger and Chuck used this apartment as an office, though Tug always imagined that it could be a cozy home if she just had the chance to bring in the right furniture and shine the place up a bit. She sometimes came over during the day and let herself in, just to escape the walls of her own home, which seemed to grow closer the older she got. She’d bring a book and spend hours in the quiet that the little space provided.

But today she had a different mission. She walked to the far wall of the little space and slid open the concealed door that appeared to be a simple paneled wall. It moved back to reveal a staircase to the basement. Tug flipped a switch, illuminating the bare bulb hanging below her and descended, shivering. She always felt a damp sense of foreboding as she went down to the basement passageway between the two buildings. She eyed it now, glancing back up the stairs out of habit.

The tunnel between the buildings wasn’t walled in like a proper building would be. It was more like a mine shaft, the floor and walls made of damp hard stones meant to keep the earth from toppling in. Tug made her way around the support beams holding the ceiling in place and held her breath as she unlocked the door on the other side.

As she stepped into the damp dark space just below Evie’s, she released her breath, wiping a hand across her brow. It took every ounce of bravery she had to venture through that tunnel each time she did it, as images of the walls toppling on her insisted on crowding her mind. But she wasn’t just another dumb Dora. She was Tug. Tough and street-smart. Or at least that’s what her father had told her all her life.

*****

The basement beneath the club smelled of liquor, the inevitable result of avoiding the investigations of the Prohibition agents who liked to drop in upstairs. Tug picked up a broom and swept up some shattered glass that she hadn’t noticed before, pushing it into a corner of the dark space. There were boxes piled in a corner. And against the far wall, there was a long open hole in the ceiling – one that happened to line up with the counter behind the bar in the club above. It had been a quick solution to a simple problem, but it lacked elegance. And it was wasteful.

Tug had helped pile the mattresses that waited beneath the hole now, and she found herself almost eager for a raid. She wanted to prove that her idea would work. She’d tested it with a few bottles full of water, and only one had broken when it had slid off the side. She’d rearranged the padding and hoped that next time the agents visited she’d be able to convert the club into an innocuous tea room without wasting a drop. She smiled at her own cleverness and pushed her way back out the door and through the tunnel, switching off the light as she returned to the apartment above. She sighed, imagining once again that this might be her apartment someday, and then shook her head. Back to business. She left the apartment, and with another quick look around, she let herself out and returned to the club.

‘Looks good,’ she told Chuck as she let herself back behind the bar. The bottles along the back counter were arranged with enough space between them that they shouldn’t crash into each other as they fell. It wasn’t perfect, but it would probably work. Tug smiled at Chuck and pushed her coat back beneath the counter.

*****

The evening flew as Tug attended to the guests that visited the club and managed the upkeep of everything from the bar top to the bathroom. She was surprised when Roger’s deep voice rolled her way as she bent beneath the bar to wash some glasses, his rich baritone rumbling through her and warming her to her fingertips.

‘Elizabeth, things are looking fine here.’

‘Roger!’ she smiled up at him. ‘Is it another weekend already?’

‘It is,’ he said, his dark eyes dancing.

‘Tug!’ Evelyn McKenzie followed behind Roger. ‘How are you, darling?’

‘As good as can be expected,’ Tug said. ‘You know, the life of the working stiff.’ Tug smiled. She was glad to see Evie, even if having Evie around impinged on her ability to pretend that she and Roger were a couple, something she sometimes did, though she certainly wasn’t proud of it.

‘Oh,’ Evie smiled. ‘You love it. Don’t pretend you’d rather be anywhere else.’

‘I do love it.’ Tug smiled. ‘I have no idea how you spend your days in those stuffy lectures. I wouldn’t survive so many flat tires all in one place.’

Evie laughed. ‘No, it’s interesting, Tug! It really is.’ Evie sat down at the bar and Chuck put a glass in front of her as Roger bent down to kiss her cheek.

‘Do you mind if Tug talks business with Chuck and me for a couple minutes?’ he asked.

‘Course not. You three go ahead.’

Roger, Chuck, and Tug moved to the end of the small bar and surveyed the space together. It was packed at that hour, each small table surrounded by two or three people, the trio playing off in the corner and the bar lined with folks ready to give up their money for the gin they could no longer get in places that didn’t have elaborate operating procedures or cops on the payroll. Evie’s had both. And the place was flourishing as a result. It was bigger than a lot of clubs, and the tables scattered sparsely around the open floor had always bothered Tug’s sense of aesthetic, as well as her desire to make money.

‘We’ve got the sound now, Rog, but look at ‘em. They want something else. Their feet are tapping, they’re bobbing their heads. All that energy …’

Roger looked around and then back at Tug. ‘Something more, eh? Like what?’

‘You’re the big cheese,’ Tug said. She turned to Chuck. ‘And you’re here all the time. You must have some thoughts. You tell me.’

‘Baloney,’ Chuck laughed. ‘You’re gonna tell us what you want to do, just like always. Let’s hear it.’

‘I’m not sure yet. Maybe just clear out some space to dance.’

‘We don’t have the room, Tug. Take out tables and we lose money. People need a place to sit while they get ossified.’ Roger turned skeptical dark eyes on her, and Tug felt her mood deflate.