Chapter 4

Eleanor saw it, of course. She saw everything. Her jealousy was a living thing, a predator that was always watching.

One afternoon, as Leo was showing me how to thread the projector, he stumbled over a loose floorboard. I reached out to steady him, and he fell against me. It was an accident, over in a second.

But a second was all Eleanor needed.

"Artie!" she shrieked from the doorway. "Come see this! Your new whore can't even wait for you to turn your back!"

Artie appeared behind her, his face a thundercloud. My blood ran cold. I'd heard whispers about the speakeasy cellar, the place where people who crossed Artie Gallo disappeared.

Eleanor pointed a trembling finger at us. "They're plotting against you! In your own house! You have to make an example of them. The cellar, Artie. Take them to the cellar."

I braced for the worst. But Artie just stared at us, his eyes narrowed. He looked at Leo, who was pale and trembling. He looked at me.

Then, to my utter shock, he laughed. A short, ugly bark.

"Don't be a fool, Eleanor," he sneered. "Look at him. The boy doesn't have the guts. And she's too new to be that stupid."

He waved a dismissive hand and walked away, leaving Eleanor fuming in the doorway.

Later that evening, Artie found me in the garden. The air was cool, and the city lights painted the sky a dull orange.

"That projectionist boy," he said, not looking at me. "Leo. You notice anything odd about him?"

I shook my head, my heart pounding.

"Look closer next time," Artie said, a cruel amusement in his voice. "Check his wrists. He's had... disagreements with me before. He learned his lesson. Some people just don't have a spine."

He walked off, leaving me alone in the dark with his chilling words.