question in my mind. So I go and place my bet. And then I go to bed. I wasn't feeling good, you know. Indigestion from my mother's cooking most like. She's a good woman but cooking! Mary, Mother of God. Anyways, Johnny, so I goes to bed. And I have sweet dreams about how when I wake up I'm going to be a rich man. I think I'm going to be woken up with a suitcase of money from the bet I placed on the fight. This 'sure thing.' But you know what, Johnny? It doesn't happen like that. In fact, it doesn't happen like that at all. No."
"L-look boss," Johnny stammered. "None of this is my fault. The fight was fixed. I swear ta God and the angels. It was a done deal. Louis was supposed to go down in the third. Beano promised me he would. It's not my fault Louis decided he wanted to be a hero. What am I supposed to do? Jump into the ring? Stop the fight 'cause the idiot decided to do a double-cross?"
"It's your job to know these things. It's your job to make sure these things don't happen. Now I have to whack Louis. What a waste."
"You don't have to whack Louis. Let me talk to him first. Let me see what's going on. He can redeem himself. He's a good fighter. He deserves another chance."
"No. If I give him a chance, then I look weak. I look like I'm saying, 'Machine Gun's going soft. He lets guys like Louis walk all over him. When he gives an order you can choose to follow it, or you can choose to disrespect him.' And then where does that leave me, huh? No. I'm not going down that road, Johnny. Louis is dead to me. And you're the one who's going to kill him."
"Ah, boss, but he's my brother. My own flesh and blood," moaned the man.
"All the more reason the bullet should come from your gun."
I shifted from one foot to the other, feeling more than slightly uncomfortable. Sure, I knew the guy was a gangster, but knowing that and hearing him order a real life whacking were two different things entirely. What if he discovered the truth? That I wasn't really Louise? Would he order me to be whacked as well? And what would happen if he whacked Louise's body while I was still using it? Would I simply bounce back into my own body? Or would I die myself? And if I died in Louise's body, what would happen to my body back in the twenty-first century?
Also, for that matter, where was my body back in the twenty-first century, anyway? Was I still in the FBI headquarters? Strapped to a chair? Or was Louise possessing me? Was the flapper taking a stroll down Michigan Avenue and maxing out my MasterCard as we speak?
I should have asked a ton more questions before letting them put me under.
The two men suddenly noticed me hovering at the entrance of the room. Machine Gun smiled widely, and Johnny looked at me like I was an angel from Heaven, come to save his soul.
"Johnny, as you can see, I have a visitor. Why don't we discuss this later?" Jack said, ushering him to the door. Johnny nodded, almost bowing in his relief. McGurn got up and walked him to the exit, pulling the heavy door shut behind him.
Now I was alone with Al Capone's right-hand man. Can we say, gulp?
Jack turned to me, his angry scowl replaced by a big goofy grin. He walked back to his desk, sat down in his chair, and patted his thighs.
"What you being shy for, doll face? Come sit on old Jackie's lap."
Ugh. Here we go. I swallowed hard, praying (without much optimism) that sitting on the guy's lap was all I'd be required to do in this scene. Approaching him, I climbed gingerly onto his wide lap, wrapping my arm around his shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch and his face dewy with sweat.
"How you been, Louise?" he asked, reaching up to stroke my hair with his pudgy fingers. When Sam did the same thing the night before, the gesture had sent tingles to my toes. Jack's touch only served to make me slightly nauseated. Or maybe that was his smell. Garlic and onions. Bleh.
"I was worried about you," he said. "I sent Tommy down to look for you when the coppers came and raided the
Sharon Kleve, Jennifer Conner, Danica Winters, Casey Dawes