Page 5 of Letters From Victor

I cleared my throat and turned to Dorothy. “Why don’t you go powder your nose, darling? Keep Barbara company.”

Dorothy’s eyes narrowed slightly at the dismissal, her gaze flicking between me and Frank. With a curt nod, she rose from her seat, smoothing her emerald dress. “Of course. If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen.” Her heels clicked on the parquet floor as she followed Barbara’s path to the ladies’ room.

I waited until Dorothy disappeared from view before leaning back in my chair. The waiter delivered a fresh bourbon, and I picked it up, swirling the amber liquid in my glass. The ice cubes clinked against its sides. I took a long, slow sip before setting the drink back down on the table and shifting my gaze to Frank.

“Frank, old boy, now that the wives are gone, what did you really want to talk about?”

Frank fidgeted with his napkin, his gaze darting around the room before finally settling on me. He leaned forward, his voice low and laced with desperation. “Listen, Victor, I’ve got a problem.”

I raised an eyebrow as I took another sip of bourbon. The rich, smoky flavor coated my tongue and burned a smooth path down my throat. “Oh? Do tell.”

Frank glanced over his shoulder as if checking to make sure no one was eavesdropping. The clink of silverware against china and the gentle murmur of conversation filled the air as waiters scurried between the tables and the kitchen. Seemingly satisfied that we wouldn’t be overheard, he turned back to me, his brow furrowed.

“It’s the money I owe you,” he said, his words tumbling out in a rush. “I’m having a hard time coming up with it. Business has been slow, and with the new baby…” He trailed off.

“Your boy is two, Frank. That’s hardly new.”

Frank ran a hand through his thick, curly hair, a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead under the warm glow of the chandeliers. “I know, I know. It’s just…expenses keep piling up, and Barbara has expensive tastes.” He let out a shaky laugh. The sound grated on my nerves. “You know how women are.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the pristine white tablecloth, and lit another cigarette. The smoke masked the scent of Frank’s cheap cologne mingling with the aroma of sizzling steaks and buttery lobster wafting from the kitchen. “Believe me, I’m well aware of the costs of maintaining a certain lifestyle, Frank.” I took a long drag, the acrid smoke dancing a tingling path across my tongue and throat. “But a debt is a debt. I expect to be paid what I’m owed.”

Frank swallowed hard. “Absolutely. And I will pay you back. I just…”

“You just what?”

“I was hoping you could push a few properties my way. The extra commissions would really help.”

I leaned back in my chair, taking another drag of my cigarette as I considered Frank’s request. I exhaled, the smoke curling lazily from my lips as my eyes never left his face. Frank squirmed under my gaze, his fingers tapping nervously against the stem of his martini glass.

“I’ll see what I can do,” I said finally, flicking the ash from my cigarette into the marble tray. “But I can’t make any promises. The market’s been tight lately.”

Frank’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Thank you, Victor. I appreciate it. Truly.” He took a large gulp of his martini. The olive bobbed in the clear liquid. “Barbara even suggested getting a job, but what kind of man would I be if I allowed that? The war is long over, thank God. Women don’t need to work now.”

I leaned back in my chair, studying Frank through the curling tendrils of cigarette smoke. “Barbara wants to work, you say?” I kept my tone casual, but my mind was racing with possibilities. “The girls certainly showed us they were capable during the war.”

Frank’s eyes widened, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What do you mean? I can’t have my wife working. What would people think?”

I waved a dismissive hand, the smoke from my cigarette trailing behind. “People will think what they want, regardless. But you have a bigger problem.”

“And what’s that?”

“That dame is a looker. If I were you, I’d be doing everything in my power to keep her happy. But I’d be more than a little nervous about letting her out of my sight. Letting her go to work around a bunch of fellas with wandering eyes, if you catch my drift.”

I took another long drag on my cigarette, the nicotine buzz sharpening my focus. Frank’s eyes darted around nervously, unable to meet my steady gaze. The band played a slow, sultry number, the singer’s husky voice crooning about lost love and regret.

“Listen, Frank,” I said, leaning forward and refocusing on him. The leather of my chair creaked. “I think I might have a solution to benefit us both.”

Frank’s eyes snapped to mine, a mix of hope and trepidation swimming in their depths. “What do you mean?”

I stubbed out my cigarette, the smoldering ember hissing as it met the cold marble of the ashtray. “You need money. I need a new secretary. Someone with class and sophistication to handle delicate matters. Someone who can be…discreet.”

I watched the confusion play across Frank’s face. His lips parted to speak, then closed again. He took another sip of his martini, the ice clinking against the glass. The sounds of the restaurant faded into the background as I awaited his reaction.

“You…you want Barbara to work for you?” Frank finally stammered.

I sat back in my chair, the rich leather cradling my shoulders. “Think about it, Frank. It’s the perfect solution. Barbara gets the excitement and purpose she craves. You get the extra income to pay me back. Along with a few more properties to insure. I get a beautiful, intelligent woman to class up my office. And I keep her safe from prying eyes. Everybody wins.”

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