The Space Between Suns

For several weeks after that, we heard of raids on various speakeasies around town. None of them were Chas’s, but each raid was worse than the last. It began to frighten me. In spite of all Chas did to reassure me, and all the confidence I did have in him, I knew all too well how shadows slipped through your hands. He wasn’t in the kind of business that you could keep a grip on. You always had to be ready for anything.

That’s why I went to my father.

I didn’t go for help. No. I needed nothing from him. I went to see if he knew what was going on. In truth, I went to see if it was somehow his fault.

I hadn’t been to my parents’ home since having tea with my mother that day. It was a tall, lavish townhouse in a part of the city that bred royalty. I had loved the house growing up. My room was on the top floor and overlooked a brilliant skyline. It had felt like I could do and be anything. Before I understood what all of it meant.

I entered the house and handed my fur coat to the butler, who greeted me with a twinge in his gray eyes. Everything looked gray that day. The house, the marble, the drapes. Even the air.

“It’s good to see you again, Miss Stanton. Are you here to see your mother?”

“And you as well, Jeffrey.” I answered back, “But no. I’m here for my father.” The twinge in his eyes flickered a little, and I understood what it meant. I had never thought he would feel sorry for me, he who worked for my father and served him daily. But there it was. Pity.

“He is in his office, miss. I’ll let him know you’re here. Would you like me to bring some tea in?” Tea would be a welcome distraction, and he knew it. I nodded and thanked him, wishing I hadn’t given up my fur. The entryway, though all marble and crystal, wasn’t chilly. It infuriated me how this beautifully luxurious home bought with black money could actually be warm and inviting. That was the way my father did things. Be warm, inviting, charming. It didn’t matter that everybody knew in the back of their minds who he was. His appearance was flawless. His company sought after. His home was no different.

No, it wasn’t the chill of the room that rippled my skin.

I took one last look in a mirror on the wall right after Jeffrey informed me that my father would see me. I had chosen my normal red lipstick. The finger waves in my hair were perfect. My dress was a deep pine green with sequins along the dropped waist. I had made it myself. I had thought that perhaps it might give me some sort of armor. I didn’t know what I had to be fearful of, exactly. I wasn’t there to ask him any favors. But there was always something more when it came to him.

“Hello, my dear. Please come in.” My father’s voice was calm and congenial. Pleased to see me.

“Hello, Father.” I tried to match his tone and took the cup of tea he offered, stirring it a bit with the small silver spoon.

“I assume you’re here about the raids.”

I only nodded and took a sip of my tea in response.

“You want my help? You’re worried about Mr. Truman’s business?” It was strange to hear my father talk about Chas. I had never spoken to my parents about him. Had never brought him home to meet them the way good girls did.

“I am not here for your help,” I answered, placing the tea gently back on the tray. “I am worried about Charles only in that it all seems like strange timing. He’s a good businessman.”

“Well, you aren’t wrong about that. Your Mr. Truman has made quite a name for himself. And not just in this city either. His influence is spreading.” My father sounded genuinely impressed, and the thought made me sick. Even though it was a truth I thought about every single day, I hated that their names got placed in the same circles.

“Well, then you understand that he isn’t your average bootlegger. He knows what he’s doing.” I leaned back in my chair. “Are you somehow behind these raids?”

“You never cease to surprise me, Amelia Grace,” he said then, taking a flask from his pocket and pouring some of the contents into his tea. Whisky. He offered me the flask and I took it, pouring a bit into my own cup. “Just when I think I have you figured out you change things. It is quite exhilarating really. Though I may have preferred it if you were more like your mother. It would have been simpler that way.”

“Yes, it would have.”

“To answer your question, my dear, I am not behind them. One of my own speakeasies suffered the worst of the raids, so I’ve been looking into it.” He didn’t sound upset. Why should he? A speakeasy was the very least of his business ventures.

“And?”

“I don’t know anything for sure yet. But I have a hunch.” When it came to my father that was as good as knowing. There were men who were born to certain things and my father had been born to what he did. It was terrible and filthy, but he was good at it. Very good.

“What is your hunch?”

“That this is only the beginning. I think somebody is out for us. Not just Charles Truman. Not just me. Some of my close associates agree. Of course, it’s madness. Madness that will end in unnecessary… complications.” He meant bloodshed.

“What will you do?”

“Nothing, for now. I have a few more things to look into.”

I finished my tea and stood up. “Very well, then. Thank you, Father.”

“Just a moment, my dear.” I hadn’t really believed that I would make it to the door without him

calling me back. But a small part of me had hoped.

“Yes?” I didn’t sit back down, but I was still close enough to the desk that our eyes burned together.

“This isn’t really the life that you want for yourself.” His voice was flat in a way that indicated he knew that what he was saying was the truth. “It surprised me when I heard that you were

running around with Charles Truman. But it’s none of my business, really.”

“Then why are we discussing it?”

“Because I have an offer for you.”

My blood ran cold at those words. I clasped my hands together, looking at them for only a moment before I met his eyes again. I nodded for him to continue.

“As I said, this isn’t the life you want. I saw you and Mr. Truman at my trial. It isn’t hard to notice the way things are between you. So, I know you’ll never leave him, no matter how many dark corners he starts to dabble in. And he will dabble in them, Amelia Grace. Mark my words. Perhaps his profession has an aura of innocence to it now. But it won’t always. He’s a fine businessman, as you yourself said, and he has the makings of a very successful man. No matter what side of the law he decides to work in.”

I hated how right he was. And I hated that it was showing on my face that I understood everything he was saying.

“My offer is this: leave Boston. Take all your things, take Mr. Truman, and leave. Go far away.” I realized that very distantly I felt shocked. Shock because I knew, somehow, that he meant everything he was saying. “I’m prepared to give you a substantial amount of money to do this. Take the money and go. Live your life out of the shadows. That’s what you really want.”

A small sliver of something, perhaps the little girl that still lived in my heart somewhere, wanted to believe that Roy Stanton was giving me this offer out of some kind of fatherly emotion. Some wish to see his daughter live a life different than his own. A wish to see her do what he never could.

But that wasn’t the case. I knew it as well as he did. It was a business dealing just like everything else he did. If he got rid of me this way, he could get rid of Charles and any potential business threat he might present. He also got rid of me as a loose end: the daughter he never knew quite how to control.

“When do you need my answer?” My voice was so controlled and steady that it nearly surprised me. It shouldn’t have. A lifetime of training was bound to come through at some point, even when dealing with the one who had trained me.

“In a week.”

~~

I didn’t talk to Chas about it for two days. I wanted to make up my own mind, decide for myself. As I left my father, I believed I would turn him down. I believed all kinds of things. But in the fog of those two days, my thoughts did many things I couldn’t understand. It should have been obvious to me that Chas would know. But very few things were obvious in those days.

“Amelia Grace.” I was standing at the gramophone in my flat, a bourbon on ice in my hand and my bare feet sunk into the carpet. Chas was sitting on the cushioned sofa, his tie long tossed aside, and top buttons undone.

I turned away from the gramophone to meet his gaze, and I knew that he knew.

“How long have you known?” I tossed back the rest of my bourbon and sat next to him tentatively.

“Your father visited me at my office this morning. He told me everything.” I couldn’t bear to meet his eyes. The sound of his voice was too cold. I’d never heard it directed at me before, and I hated the way it made my heart feel singed at the edges.

“I’m so sorry, Chas.”

“When were you going to tell me? When did all of this start?” I knew he needed answers, and the choppy way he spoke confirmed it.

“I just wanted… I was going to tell you soon! Tonight even!” I felt desperate and cold, but I tried not to let that bleed into my voice. He stood up and walked to the other side of the room, taking a swig of scotch straight from the decanter. I felt the burn down my own throat as if I were the one who had swallowed it. Or perhaps that was just the palpable ice I felt where he’d been sitting next to me.

“Just tell me what happened.” He turned and met my gaze, and though it was a small gesture I was grateful.

“I was afraid.” Tears began creeping into the edges of my eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were frigid or if they burned. But I hated them, nonetheless. “I went to ask him if he was behind all of the raids. I went to see if he knew anything. And while I was there, he made the offer to give me money and to leave town. He told me to take you with me. He said we could leave town and start a new life.” By the end, I wasn’t looking at him anymore, because I felt small and childish.

“And you believed him?”

“Of course I did!” My head shot back up then, and I was grateful for the anger that distracted me from the pain of hurting him. “You spoke to him yourself, Chas. Don’t pretend you don’t understand what he’s offering. There is no reason for him to lie under these circumstances.”

He looked away then because he knew I was right.

“You were going to accept his offer?”

“I don’t know!” I stood up then. “I had to speak with you, obviously!”

“Yes, obviously! Do you realize what this means for me? Do you have any idea?” His voice was strained in a way I’d never heard before, and it threatened to break everything inside me. “I’ve begun to build my own empire here.” It wasn’t what I expected him to say, but nevertheless, the words fell into my skin and turned it cold with shame. Somehow, I met his eyes.

“I do know. I do.” I had made my way to him and stood right in front of him. He’d never felt so far away. “I just… I don’t want this life. I told you that the first night we met. This isn’t what I want.”

“I know.” He whispered it, and with those words, it was as if I saw his entire life flash before his eyes. A tragic childhood in the orphanage: days, weeks, and years of dreaming of becoming something more. Of building something. I realized then just what I would be asking of him if I were to accept this offer from my father. And it seemed like far too much.

I desperately wanted to reach out to him, but I couldn’t. His eyes seemed to say the exact same thing.

“Is this life what you really want, Chas?” The words surprised me. I hadn’t thought I’d ever ask them. Hadn’t even known that I was unsure of the answer. “What do you want?”

I’m not sure how long we stood there, but eventually, he walked over to the sofa and gathered up his suit coat and tie. Then he came towards me and pressed a kiss to my forehead that was so soft I barely felt it. And the sound of the door closing behind him echoed throughout the room.