American Girl

Illinois

Diners filled the umbrellaed tables outside Antoinio's Italian Bistro. White-aproned servers bustled in and out, holding round steaming pizzas on upstretched hands. Inside, every table was full, but the long mahogany bar remained empty. The dusty shelves that used to hold liquor bottles looked forlorn.

Antonio stood amid his bustling restaurant. Rubbing his hands gleefully, he greeted his patrons and shook their hands. Occasionally, he approached a table and spoke to the diners. Since he owned a popular eatery, he knew almost everybody.

"Anything special happening tonight, Tony?" Sal Bonetti asked, leaning toward his host conspiratorially.

"Si," Tony Moretti nodded. Bending slightly, he whispered, "Lionel Barrymore."

Sal Bonetti nodded. Lifting his water glass, he frowned before taking a small sip.

"Your spaghetti and meatballs are superb as usual, Antoinio," Sal stated in a louder voice. "Cheers!" He raised his water in a salute.

"Grazie," Tony muttered, moving toward another table.

"Shall we sample the cannoli, my dear?" Sal turned toward his companion. "Or shall we call it a night?"

"Call it a night," Trixie Andrews answered, winking.

"As you wish, my dear." Sal signaled his waiter to bring the check. He paid and, rising, pulled out his companion's chair.

Trixie took Sal's arm, and they exited onto the sidewalk. Tipping his hat to Officer O'Malley, Sal strolled along the street with Trixie. They stopped at a taxi stand and glanced back toward the policeman. O'Malley continued his beat, twirling his Billy club and whistling a tune. When he turned a corner, Sal led Trixie down the alley.

Sal tapped on a discreet wooden door using the tip of his cane. The door hid behind a stack of old crates and pallets. A small square section of the ingress slid open, and a single eye appeared.

"Lionel Barrymore," Sal whispered. Trixie clutched his arm.

The eye disappeared, and then the door swung open enough to allow Sal and Trixie an entrance. They sidled along between packed warehouse boxes until they reached another hidden door. Whispering 'Lionel Barrymore' again, they crossed another threshold and walked down a rickety set of stairs. After giving the password a third time, the couple finally entered the Speakeasy.

"Benvenuto, amici," Tony Moretti exclaimed, rushing toward his friends. "Welcome."

The two men grasped arms and laughed uproariously.

Trixie glanced around, trying not to appear naïve. Although she looked and acted like a flapper, tonight was her first time in a speakeasy. When her boss, Sal Bonetti, asked her to join him for dinner, she accepted immediately. Her mother didn't like her working for Sal. She thought his laundry business was a front, and he was actually a crime boss.

Trixie also suspected Sal was involved in shady business, but she didn't mind. She worked as his secretary in his private office. It was her first job, and it paid well. Her boss treated her respectfully, but she encouraged him to pay more attention to her. She knew she was making progress when he asked her to join him at Antoinio's.

The Speakeasy thrived with customers despite prohibition. Trixie noticed a couple of Chicago's finest council members at the bar drinking martinis. Her best friend, Dolly Morgan, sat beside one of them. She sported the new straight bob bombshell hairdo with a ribbon band around her forehead. Dolly looked perfectly at ease with her slender legs crossed and a long black cigarette filter between her fingers. Tilting her head, she laughed as the alderman whispered into her ear.