Elissa rejoined Adam by the refreshment table and matched his scowl with one of her own. Whatever Cole had meant about the reason behind their decade-old fight, she was going to discover it.
“Nice that you and Cole are still friends.” Adam’s smile wobbled more than Frank after he had a few drinks in him.
“We’re not friends.”
For a handsome man dressed in a tuxedo, Adam appeared rather foolish with his mouth gaping open and eyebrows furrowed so low they made a straight line across his forehead. “Then why on earth did you dance with him?”
“I have my reasons.” She glanced over her gown in search of any loose threads or sequins. She’d stashed her travel sewing kit in her silver clutch, but everything was holding together nicely—unlike her emotions. She lifted her gaze from the satin fabric only to be speared with Adam’s glare. “What?”
“Is that all you’re going to say? You have your reasons?”
She should’ve stayed home. Darcy’s companionship ranked higher than the two gentlemen currently tarnishing her evening. At least with that dear creature, she didn’t have to be concerned about sucking in her gut, keeping her shoulders back, or refraining from dumping her punch on certain people’s heads.
Adam glowered.
She sighed. “It’s personal.” Though her temper fumed at Cole, her heart couldn’t humiliate him by suggesting she’d asked him to dance because his expression had reminded her of the first day they’d met. When Cole’d begged her father for a job. When his own father had abandoned him and his mother.
Adam pulled her hand into his, selecting that moment to replace irritation with charm. “Elissa, if we’re ever going to mean something to one another, then we need an honest relationship.”
Bingo. Her lips stretched into a smile, and she placed her other hand over his. “You’re absolutely right. No secrets between us.” Her grin widened at his enthusiastic nod. “So how about I tell you why I danced with Cole, and you tell me why he punched you in tenth grade. Deal?”
“In tenth grade?” His laugh sounded more like a cough. “That was a long way back.”
“Did you forget the reason?” Hard to believe since the man’s face was as guilty as Franco Cartelli’s during his murder trial.
His shoulders slumped. “I remember, but I think it will cast me in an unfavorable light.”
Elissa had already formed speculations. Maybe he’d tripped Cole in front of the entire school. Or ridiculed Cole for having holes in his trousers.
“I invented the Shadyside Slob nickname.”
But not that one.
Her throat welded shut, her breaths burning at the memories of those tormenting days. “How could you?” She pulled her hands from his arm, the idea of touching the man who’d blackened her years at Oakland High unbearable.
“It was a long time ago.” His face heated ten shades past ruby. “I didn’t know you like I do now. And really, Elissa, I couldn’t understand how sloppily you dressed. Your family was wealthy.”
Her toes begged permission to kick him in the shin. Adam had no idea how hard she’d struggled to look presentable, to avoid snagged stockings and stained clothes. But somehow her awkwardness had always overtaken her. Though Mother had never shown it, Elissa knew she’d been a disappointment. A humiliation. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Yes, my family has money, but I never fit in with anyone—”
“Except Cole.” His scornful tone suggested she should be embarrassed by her one and only friend.
“Do you have any idea of the pain you caused me?” The tears she’d cried because of that awful nickname, which had spread throughout the entire school, ranging from loud taunts in the lunchroom to giggled whispers as she walked through the hall. Somebody had even carved it on her desk. She’d never understood why or how it originated. Until now. “You used your popularity to hurt others, Adam. You knew all you had to do was suggest it, and those feather-brained friends of yours would see that it caught on like wildfire.” And with her being a year younger than Adam and Cole, the ribbing had continued after they’d been gone.
“I didn’t realize it would catch on like it did.” He adopted a pained look. “Honestly. I only mentioned it to a couple of people.”
In Adam’s feeble defense, most of her classmates had already looked down upon her. The nickname had only sealed the case against her.
“I’m sorry, Elissa.” Regret shone in his amber eyes. “I should’ve apologized years ago. You’re so different now than what you were then.”
The ache in her heart stretched to her shaky fingertips. How could she put into words the effort she exerted every day to keep that clumsy little girl from showing up again? A retreat to the ladies’ room was vital. Her skin flushed hot, and tears threatened to swell. “I accept your apology, but I need time.”
“I’ll wait.” A sadness crept over his expression. “As long as it takes.”
Elissa spared a nod in his direction and then pivoted toward the doors. Four steps to the exit. She could hold it together that long. Jay Lewis bounded in, blocking her retreat. Her father’s press foreman reeked of cigarettes, a sure indication he’d spent the first part of the evening in the lounge.
“Did you hear the latest?” His brown brows squished together. A scowl usually ornamented Jay’s face, but this moment, disbelief stretched across his sharp features. “The radio news bulletin?”
“No. What happened?”
“He’s dead.” Jay pulled a large hand over his face.
Cole stepped beside Elissa, his commanding presence somehow comforting. “Who’s dead?”
Jay blinked. “Why, Daniel Shelby.”
“Mr. Shelby.” Cole’s breathy whisper iced her blood.
She braved a glance at him. A muscle ticked in his jaw, but other than that—stoic.
A small crowd gathered, and Jay filled them in with the tragic news. “There was an explosion at the Halloway Building. The whole thing went up in flames. Poor guy was inside.”
Confusion settled between Cole’s brows. “That abandoned place on Bootlegger Alley?”
“Yeah. They’re saying a still exploded.” Jay’s mouth pulled into a grim line. “That’s the third explosion in six months.”
Elissa worried her bottom lip. Why had Mr. Shelby gone to the Halloway Building? Everyone knew Bootlegger Alley—Garson Street and its surrounding area—was rumrunner and drug lord territory. Surely, the respectable inventor hadn’t been caught up in crime. A chill slithered through her bones. “It’s awful. His poor family.”
Cole held up a hand. “If the building was in flames, how’d they know Shelby was inside?”
“The radio bulletin said the police got an anonymous tip.” Jay shrugged. “Someone claimed they saw Shelby enter the place. Plus, they found a fancy walking stick with his initials on it among the rubble. The firemen are still working to get the flames under control, I think.”
Cole blinked, and the befuddled daze cradling his eyes sparked into confidence. As he shifted to face her, her hand unintentionally skimmed his forearm, but he caught her fingers in his. “We gotta do an extra.”
She choked on her own breath. “Did you say ‘extra?’”
His gaze latched on hers for an excruciating second, trapping her rebuttal in her chest. He squeezed her hand, withdrew his touch, and scanned the crowd. Most likely looking for an ally. “Yes. We need to do an extra. Let’s get your father.” He turned on his heel, but Elissa clutched his elbow.
She expected the action to halt him, but the momentum jerked her forward.
He stroked her knuckles with his thumb, surprisingly tender for such an uncomfortable situation. “Again with the death grip on my joints?”
“Cole, we don’t do extras. Not anymore.” Surely, he knew this. Even if they pumped the article out in record time, it couldn’t compete with the expediency of radio. But then, Cole always had a soft spot in his heart for Mr. Shelby. Maybe he wanted to do a memorial for him. “I’m sorry. I remember how fond you were of him.” She slid her hand up his arm to rest on his shoulder.
His dark eyes flashed with an intensity that knocked her heart four notches past racing. Elissa clamped her mouth closed before a tiny gasp could escape. She’d forgotten how powerful his stare could be and the weakening effect it had on her.
“What’s going on?” Her father’s voice ripped into her thoughts, drawing her back to the present. “Lissie, you all right? Your cheeks are fiery red.”
She dropped her hand from Cole’s shoulder and placed a palm to her cheek. “We just found out Daniel Shelby has been killed.”
“Sir, I suggest you call in the crew for an extra.”
Her father’s eyebrows spiked. “It’s risky. One where money could be lost if it turns out unsuccessful.” While his words agreed with Elissa’s, the twinkle in his aged blue eyes said otherwise. Father’s weakness for excitement mixed with Cole’s power of persuasion equaled a whole lot of trouble.
She needed to intervene. “This will be considered old news. Nobody would buy a story they already know about.”
Even Jay’s shoulders curled forward in disappointment. What was wrong with everyone? The Review had no excess funds to throw around. Zero. To support this crazy impulse, they’d need to call in a quarter of the newsroom staff and fire up the presses. Then there were production costs. Paper and ink. And what newsie would want to give up a Saturday night to stand on a street corner? Only to come back with bundles of unsold extras?
A dull ache spread behind her eyes. No. Completely illogical. If the men needed a surge of something thrilling, they could go for rides on the massive dumbwaiter she’d spotted on the way in here. At least the men would be contained, and no money would be thrown away. “I’m just as competitive as any of you, but even I see the absurdity in this. There’s nothing to be covered that isn’t already broadcasting all over Pittsburgh.”
“Something isn’t adding up.” Cole’s fingers flexed at his side, his flinty stare aimed at her. “He was murdered.”
The chatter hushed, and all eyes fixed on him.
The hair raised on her arms, sending a chill to her gloved fingertips. “It’s most likely an accident. Anything could’ve happened.”
“Shelby was murdered,” he said, his deep rasp emphatic.
Her father yanked out his pocket watch and frowned. “It’d be a close call if we did an extra. How do you know all this, son?”
“A hunch.”
“I can’t run presses on a hunch.”
Elissa exhaled the breath trapped in her chest. Father was on her side. No extra. No money squandered. She’d have to keep an eye on Cole. His lofty ideas could be the driving stake in the Review’s for-sale sign. She wasn’t sure how they handled funds in New York, but around here—
“What about facts?” Determination flickered in Cole’s eyes, his gaze slipping from Father to her. “How about an interview with one of the last people to see him alive?”
Elissa shivered. “Who would that be?”
“Me.”