Speak Easy Read Online Free Page A

on him, hands on my hips. “None of your beeswax.”
    He smiled at getting a rise out of me, his brown eyes lighting up. “Come on, Tiny, a guy like that, in a suit that fancy?” He looked me up and down. “You’re not his type.”
    I lunged for him, giving him a hard shove with both hands on the chest. Joey wasn’t tall but he was solid, so I was surprised when he went over backward. Since I’d thrown all my weight into the push, I went over too and we landed in a heap of tangled limbs on the dirt. To my chagrin, my body betrayed me by tingling at the feel of our torsos pressed together. For one awkward moment, we paused, our faces inches apart.
    “Kiss me, you fool,” he said, but then he burst out laughing.
    “Go to hell.” I rolled off him and stood, brushing the dust off my skirt.
    Joey popped up on his feet, still chuckling. “Good hit. Caught me off guard.”
    “Did I hurt you?” I asked hopefully.
    “With what—a pebble to the backside?” He readjusted his floppy cap.
    I was tempted to keep sparring with him since I was so worked up, but just then Daddy arrived. We got to work emptying the boathouse into our cars, and then drove back to the garage, where we unloaded the booze into the hidden rooms in the basement. No one spoke more than one-word commands or responses, and Daddy looked over his shoulder more than usual. Not that I blamed him—the events of this afternoon had me on edge too.
    By the time we were through, I was sticky and tired and my left hip ached. While Daddy went over the day’s take in the office, I sat on the stained cement floor and watched Joey bring in the last of the booze. His black pants hugged his butt as he moved, and a surprising little flutter swept through my belly. He set the whisky down and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. It left a trail of dirt smudged against his olive skin, but I had to admit he’d gotten better looking in the last couple years, sort of grown into his strong nose and wide mouth.
    He caught me staring. “See something you like?”
    I made a disgusted noise at the back of my throat, as if he hadn’t just read my mind. “No.”
    “Joe,” called Daddy. “Come in here a minute.” When Joey stepped into the office, I hopped to my feet, counted to five and followed, stopping just out of sight of the open door.
    “Just keep your ears open,” Daddy was saying. “And let me know what you hear.”
    About what? I wondered. Did this have anything to do with the letter from Enzo?
    Daddy dropped his voice. “And keep an eye on Tiny, too. She needs it.”
    Like hell I do. Especially that eye.
    Joey came out of the office, giving me a slug on the shoulder as he headed for the back door. “See you around, Little Tomato.”
    I ignored him. “Daddy,” I said loudly, drawing him out of the office. “What’s going on?”
    He was still shuffling through the stack of bills and didn’t meet my eye. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
    “What was in that letter? The one I gave you earlier.”
    He didn’t even lift his head. “Nothing to worry about.”
    He was lying, but Daddy was stubborn as a one-eyed mule. If he didn’t want me to know what was going on, I wasn’t going to get it out of him. Maybe I could snoop around for the letter tomorrow. “I guess I’ll walk home then, see what the girls have cooked up.”
    “A heap of trouble, no doubt.” He flashed a quick smile in my direction, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
    #
    Later that night—after making supper, washing the dishes, breaking up a fight between my sisters over whose turn it was to dry them, running the carpet sweeper, and putting out the trash—I took a cool bath, put on my nightgown, and flopped facedown onto my bed. Our home wasn’t large by any means, but keeping it clean and running smoothly was exhausting, not to mention keeping two younger sisters fed, clothed, and out of trouble. Daddy did what he could, willing to cook the occasional pot of soup