Prohibition is the law of the land, but Nellie needs cash - after socking a gangster in the face, she's got ten days to make it right. Frightened and caught empty-handed, Nellie turns bootlegger.
She accepts a job from her sly friend Lola to pick up...
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It's late evening when we pull off the main drag. The road is overgrown with weeds. Felix puts the car in neutral to look at a map he made for himself.
"It's five miles down the road," he says.
It's growing dark. Felix switches on the headlights. The trees that seemed friendly before and waved gently in the breeze are now menacing shadows, illuminated like ghosts in the beams of our lights. A monstrous willow gives me the creeps. It's chillier here and I button up my sweater.
Felix kills the engine next to a sandy dune. The road stops, dead ends. That's it. Slowly, the headlamps die.
I've never been in darkness so total, or so complete.
In the city, there's lights everywhere. Even with blackout curtains the light seeps in around the corners and edges of the cloth. The spherical streetlamps only leave small puddles of darkness and at a distance the city radiates light like an oven radiates heat.
But now—that's it.
Felix opens the door. The engine rattles a little as it cools. We're brought a lantern and a flashlight. I'm sure that's what Felix is fetching. I hesitantly open my own door and when I hop out, my Oxfords sink into sand.
"We've got a few hours," I say. Felix has dug around and found the flashlight. He swings the beam around to me.
"Do you have the compass?"
I fish it out of my handbag, nudging aside a pair of wire cutters that Lola insisted could be a positive Godsend in a pinch. I only took them to be polite, but I do like how they give my bag some extra weight to it. I don't bother wondering just what Lola gets up to that requires her to carry wire cutters in her purse, but it's good for a girl to be prepared.
It's straight west, but we have to pick our way through undergrowth. Felix moves ahead of me, pushing saplings out of the way. Above us the stars twinkle like so many diamonds spread over velvet.
At the beach Felix stops. Our flashlight reveals a pile of driftwood, too unnatural to be made by the surf. I sink gratefully into the sand and pull my skirt around the rest of my legs.
Felix sits beside me and switches the light off to save battery.
"Are you tired?" I ask.
"A little," he admits, "It's been a long day."
"Why don't you nap a while? I'll keep watch."
There's no argument. I expect to have to convince him I'm fully capable of keeping watch, yet I don't have to. His clothes rustle as he lays himself down in the sand.
I set my chin on my knees. He's still close. And I'm cold. I allow myself, for just a moment, to imagine what it might be like to lay next to him.
It's a terrible idea, and I won't toy with him that way. For all I know, he doesn't like the thought of kissing me or holding me close. He has plenty to worry about—more than me. He can't be worrying over some girl, not when he's worried about his own sister.
