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fancy names.’

      Chuck laughed. ‘We don’t need mixers, Tug. This isn’t hooch we’re pouring back here.’

      ‘I know that.’ Tug had been told a hundred times about their connection with the Yale Club, about the quality of the alcohol they served and about how no other place in the city could compete. ‘But you’re bringing in your Yalie friends when there’s a whole city of people who’d be in here in a heartbeat if you just gave ‘em what they wanted.’

      ‘Maybe we want to control the type of fella we get in here,’ Chuck said.

      Roger nodded.

      ‘But then again, maybe Tug has a point.’ Chuck grinned, his white-blond hair reflecting the dim lights above the bar. ‘I, for one, wouldn’t mind some dancing girls in here.’

      Roger crossed his arms and sighed heavily. ‘It makes no sense to waste the good brown plaid on a bunch of dewdroppers and deadbeats.’

      ‘That’s what I’ve been saying,’ Tug said. She put a hand on Roger’s arm, trying to ignore the chill that ran through her at the sheer proximity of him. ‘We get another connection, bring in some giggle water that we can mix, and make up some fancy cocktails. Stretch it out by adding fruit juice. That’s what people want, anyway. Save the good stuff for those who know the difference!’

      Roger stared at Tug for a long moment, and she met his gaze, working hard to keep herself from tumbling into the delicious brown depths of his moody eyes. ‘All right, Tug,’ Roger said.

      Chuck grinned. ‘This’ll be fun,’ he laughed, returning to the customers at the bar.

      ‘I’ll work on the connections. You take care of the show.’

      ‘Really, Roger?’ Tug launched herself at Roger, forgetting for a moment that he was Evie’s fiancé. She pressed herself into his sturdy warmth, wrapping her arms around his neck and laughing.

      His arms went around her and he laughed, too, holding her maybe a beat longer than was necessary and then releasing her.

      Tug stepped away, smoothing her skirt and putting a hand to her hair, embarrassed suddenly. She couldn’t wipe the smile from her face, though she wasn’t sure if she was more pleased at getting her way or at having been in Roger’s arms, even for a second.

      *****

      Tug spent the next couple weeks working feverishly to implement her new vision for Evie’s. She brought her father and one of his friends to build a small stage at one end of the long space, wide enough for the band to be elevated behind the dancers. Her father was easy enough to pay – she just offered him a bottle from the supply room.

      Tug didn’t think finding girls to make up the show would be especially difficult, either. After all, there were plenty of young girls around, looking to break into show business. 1924, and the years immediately preceding it, had been a revolution of sorts for women, after all. It had been women who had succeeded in pressing the temperance movement forward and ultimately persuading the bulk of Americans that Prohibition would build a stronger country. And on the heels of that political success came the women’s suffrage movement. This was a time when women were demonstrating what they were capable of, and many of them were finding their own versions of power and independence. They were leaving home and pursuing their desires, even without the protection of a man at their side.

      ‘I think I need twelve girls,’ Tug told Chuck and Roger when she’d made a plan for the showgirls. ‘Now I just need to get them hired, get some costumes, and figure out what exactly they’re going to be doing up there.’ She nodded at the newly completed stage, which was really just a platform up front.

      ‘So when are these girls coming in?’ Chuck asked, a mischievous sparkle lighting his face.

      ‘Give me a week or two. The convention isn’t until June, anyway. That gives us two months to get them ready to go. Have you Yalies found us a new connection yet? I’ve got a million ideas for fancy drinks, but I need to experiment.’

      Roger looked grim. ‘I’m still not sold on that part, Tug. We’ve got a solid connection at the club. This is a refined establishment, where people know they can get the good stuff.’

      ‘We’re not gonna change that,’ Tug said, leaning across the bar to make her point. ‘We’re gonna build on that. Look around, Rog.’

      Roger did as he was told, and Chuck followed suit.

      ‘You got a couple off duties over there,’ Tug pointed to the front table where two red-faced Irishmen were laughing quietly together. ‘You got your Ivy pals out here.’ Several small groups of well-dressed young men who could have been Roger’s fraternity brothers clustered around the end of the bar. ‘You’re missing the flappers, boys. And when you get the girls in here, these boys start emptying their wallets. You want a place that the girls ask to come, a place where there’s something for everyone.’ She eyed Roger, ignoring the flush that crept up her neck when he watched her intently as he was doing now. ‘You might as well just call this place Yale Club south.’

      ‘She’s got a point,’ Chuck said, a low laugh following it as he shook his head. He smiled at Tug, admiration for her clear in the bright blue eyes.

      Tug mimicked a curtsy for him and turned back to Roger. ‘Whaddya think?’

      ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I’ll work on it.’

      Tug ducked behind the bar and grabbed her coat and purse. ‘Now, if one of you fine gentlemen would escort me, I need to visit the competition.’

      ‘What?’ Chuck laughed.

      ‘I need to talk to Ms Guinan again,’ she said. ‘And I can’t exactly wander over to her place alone. Who’s coming?’ She looked back and forth between the two men, silently praying that Roger would volunteer.

      ‘Sold,’ Chuck said, picking his hat up from the back counter. ‘You’ll be okay, Rog?’

      Roger looked skeptical but said, ‘Sure.’

      Tug felt disappointment wash over her, but quickly pushed it away. She pasted a big smile on her face and turned to her tall blond escort. ‘Let’s get a wiggle on, then!’

      Together, Tug and Chuck stepped out into the glow of street lamps lining the midtown street. Winter was finally losing its grip on the city and a slight breeze carried a kiss of warmth with it as it wrapped around the couple walking towards Park Avenue.

      *****

      ‘So you and Roger met at school, huh?’ Tug asked as Chuck walked beside her.

      ‘We’ve known each other since we were kids,’ Chuck told her. His voice was deep and warm, and he had a way of sounding like he was always on the brink of laughter.

      Tug turned her head to look at him. Chuck was tall and lanky. He didn’t have the broad build that Roger did, but his easy way of being in the world made him nice to be near. He always made Tug feel reassured, as if whatever problems were afoot would be easily solved.

      ‘We grew up together.’ Chuck had taken Tug’s arm as they’d left the club, and he guided her as they walked. ‘Roger’s father and mine have both been part of the club forever, and our mothers host one another regularly. We knew we’d be at Yale together from the time we were in short pants.’

      Tug laughed at the idea of a tiny tow-headed Chuck and toddling Roger tumbling around together as kids. ‘Roger’s a good guy,’ she said, and then wanted to suck the words back in. Something in her wanted any excuse to say his name, to feel closer to him, even if it was just by talking about him.

      Chuck looked thoughtful for a moment, and then said, ‘He is. He always has been. If Roger has a fault, it’s only that he sees everything in shades of black and white.’ He tightened his grip on Tug’s arm for a moment. ‘Well, you know that! You’ve seen how hard it is to get him to think about making changes to the club. He’s a creature of habit.’

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