Dollface: A Novel of the Roaring Twenties Read Online Free PDF Page B

stepped inside, I felt underdressed in my jersey frock. The women were all in beautiful fringed and sequined dresses. Some wore jeweled turbans, and others had plumed headdresses. The men were just as stylish in three-piece tailored suits. There was a big band up onstage and the place was jumping. Between the Christmas tree and the holiday lights sparkling about the room, it already felt like New Year’s Eve in there.
    Evelyn tugged on my sleeve and pointed. “Vera, look!”
    “Oh my God! That’s Charlie Chaplin!” He was sitting at a front table, less than three feet away. Without his funny mustache and bushy eyebrows he was a handsome man with thick, wavy dark hair and surprisingly somber-looking eyes.
    We started for his table, hoping to get his autograph, but a couple of photographers cut in front of us to take his picture. Their flashbulbs popped like firecrackers, sending clouds of smoke hovering above their cameras. I stood there, unable to take my eyes off him. I couldn’t believe it. First Al Capone and now Charlie Chaplin. Capone may have been a gangster, but he was famous, too. I was a believer in signs, and I took this as a big one that things were about to change for me.
    After a round of drinks, Evelyn took off with Izzy while I danced with a college boy from the University of Chicago. He wore two-tone shoes that kept perfect time with my toes. While he shuffled me from side to side, other couples on the dance floor were kicking up their heels and shaking their shoulders and behinds, keeping a perfect beat with the music.
    “What do you say we mix it up a little?” I said.
    “Sure thing.” He twirled me and lost what little rhythm he had.
    In the middle of that number I broke away from him and started doing a crazy little dance step, snapping my fingers and swaying my hips. I kept my eye on the boy as my borrowed pearls swung to and fro and my bobbed hair swished to the left and then to the right. The trumpeter gave me a wink, and people turned to watch as I circled around the college boy, who stood there like a maypole.
    When the number was up, I thanked him for the dance and headed to the bar. As I was catching my breath, someone leaned in close and whispered, “You always dance like that in public?”
    I turned and nearly lost my balance. Standing before me was the man with the widow’s peak from the Drake Hotel. I hadn’t expected to ever see him again and my heart took a leap forward. He reached across the bar for my drink and placed it in my hand.
    “Well, fancy seeing you here,” I said, trying to play it cool by giving his martini glass a clink with mine. “You really helped me out of a jam. I never got to thank you for—”
    “Not necessary.” He smiled. “Just please tell me you’re not still working for that schmendrick . You know what it is? A schmendrick? ”
    I nearly spilled my drink. “You know Yiddish?”
    “What Jew doesn’t?”
    I looked him up and down. “You’re Jewish?”
    “You sound so surprised.”
    He was nothing like the Jewish boys I’d grown up with. For one thing, he didn’t look Jewish. He had a strong chin and a slender nose. His hair was dark, almost black like mine, and he had that widow’s peak that I found sexy in a strange sort of way. I decided he was nice-looking. Maybe not handsome like that Izzy Seltzer, but he had a certain something. There was an elegance to him and he was wearing another expensive-looking three-piece suit. He had style—no doubt about that. He smiled and it sent a ripple of excitement through my body.
    “What’s your name, Dollface?”
    “Vera. Vera Abramowitz.”
    “Well, there you have it. We Jews have to stick together, don’t we?” He rocked back on his heels, showing off his spats.
    His name was Shep Green. He was older, maybe twenty-five or twenty-six. Turned out that Izzy worked for him.
    “He works for you, huh? Doing what?” I couldn’t help but think about Izzy’s run-in with Capone earlier. If Izzy