“If Johnny Walker calls, tell me you won’t go meet him without me. Promise me that.”
I squint up at Mariano, who’s silhouetted by the midday sun. “I’m not stupid, Mariano.”
“No, you’re not. Not at all. But you are desperate. I don’t care what he says on the phone when he calls, wait for me before you go anywhere with him. Okay?”
“I won’t go anywhere without my bodyguard.” The teasing tone in my voice draws a smile—albeit a brief one—out of Mariano.
I expect the dog to resist the rope, but instead he trots several feet away from us as we continue along the sidewalk.
Pedestrians thicken as we draw closer to the train station, and the dog must decide I’m the lesser of two evils—in the end, he trots close enough that he actually brushes my leg. I try not to cringe away from him.
Once we arrive, Mariano gestures to the office. “I’m going to borrow their phone. Can you and your furry sidekick wait out here for me?”
Sidekick. Not a bad name for a dog. I point to the women’s restroom. “I’ll get changed and meet you here.”
As I change back into my Presley’s skirt and blouse, I mull over how to explain my new “sidekick” to my family. Perhaps, because the weather was mild today, I ate my lunch outside and the dog found me?
And how exactly am I going to conceal this guy at school? There will still be several hours left before dismissal. Perhaps I could stow him in the groundskeeper’s gardening shed? Lawrence has always been kind to me. In exchange for keeping quiet, I could promise him a bottle of Father’s good stuff—a swell upgrade from the bathtub gin Lawrence normally drinks.
I finish changing before Mariano finishes his phone call, and I stand in the busy station with the dog. He’s so riddled with anxiety, he huddles against me. I should pat his head or something, but I can’t talk myself into it.
Could I tell Walter the truth about today? It’s not like I ventured up here alone, so he can’t get too mad, right? Though he might be hurt that I didn’t tell him my plan this morning when he brought me to school . . .
“What sounds better,” I ask Mariano when he emerges from the office. “That I ate lunch outside and found the dog there, or that—” Mariano’s gaze is serious, his mouth downturned. “What’s wrong? Was there bad news?”
Is it Lydia? The question forms in my throat, but I can’t force it out.
Mariano doesn’t even dig up a smile for me. “In my line of work, there’s always bad news.”
He looks so defeated, I can’t seem to help myself. I put a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”
Mariano covers my hand with his own. Squeezes. “Let’s get you home, Piper.”
And other than a few polite niceties, those are the last words he says before delivering me back to school.
CHAPTER
TEN
Sidekick’s tail thumps on the grass when he sees me approaching.
“Real gem of a dog ya got here,” Lawrence drawls in his Texas accent. “Needs a good cleanin’, though. And a good meal.”
“Thanks for hiding him for me, Lawrence.” Sidekick flinches away from my hand, but he must catch a whiff of the roll I snitched from the school cafeteria for him, because he pushes his nose against my coat pocket. I tear off a bite and place it on my palm for him to lick off. “Good boy, Sidekick.”
“It’s my weddin’ anniversary next week, and my wife’ll sure appreciate that bottle of wine.” Lawrence gestures toward the west side of campus. “Headmistress usually comes out this here door, so I’d suggest you take him over to the east and wait for your ride there.”
“Thanks, Lawrence. I’ll deliver your payment tomorrow.”
He tips his hat and smiles his gap-toothed grin. “Have a good evenin’, Miz Sail.”
Sidekick and I sneak to the corner of Lake Shore and Irving, where Walter will make his turn toward Presley’s. We’ve only been waiting about a minute when Walter pulls up along the curb.
I open the back door for Sidekick, who isn’t convinced that he should enter until I toss in a chunk of bread.
I grin at Walter. “I’m bringing home a friend.”
“Life is never dull with you. I thought you hated dogs.”
“This one is kind of growing on me.” I slide into the passenger seat as Sidekick sets about pacing the backseat. “Will Joyce be mad?”
Walter shrugs. “Dunno.” He grins when Sidekick’s head appears between us, his long, pink tongue hanging out one side of his mouth. “So was it give-away-stray-dogs day at Presley’s?”
The story that I spent all afternoon cooking up sits heavy on my tongue. The lie would ruin everything between us, wouldn’t it?
Walter’s smile flickers. “Your silence is scaring me.”
I try to arrange my features in a reassuring, confident kind of way. “Do you remember the article I showed you? The one with the girl from Detroit who escaped from a brothel?”
A slow blink. “Yes.”
“Well, the newspaper said she made her phone call from this place called Johnny’s Lunchroom up on Clark Street—”