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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"Does he know much about cars?" Ruth asks. She's asked for some tea. We'd all sat down to breakfast around eight o'clock. Robert and Felix both excused themselves to take a look at the faulty red Buick in question.
"He knows enough," I say.
"Robert was too proud to ask for help around town back home." Ruth examines her nails. "I suppose all men get like that once and a while."
"I suppose."
We wander outside with our tea. Outside the sun rises above the trees, throwing long rays across the lot and the road. We chat a little longer; Ruth describes Cleveland to me because I tell her I've never been. Ruth is a sweet woman but I have a feeling I'd be bored to tears if my days were filled with nothing but small talk like this.
The Buick backfires when they try to start it. Robert flails backwards at the noise and Ruth laughs. He looks ridiculous; Felix just stands there shaking his head.
"Look at him," Ruth says, wiping at her eyes, "Some days I wonder why I married him and others I'm positive I made the best choice in the world."
They eventually get the Buick running smoothly. Felix wipes his hands and strides over. He didn't get much sleep the night before—I can see it in the dark rings under his eyes.
"I can't thank you enough," Ruth says.
"It's no trouble," Felix assures her. His fake wedding ring flashes as he twists the rag in his hands. Robert lopes over. His hair's sticking up, and his shirt's gotten untucked.
"We sure owe you one," Robert says, "Next time you're in Cleveland—"
Ruth agrees. We shake hands and go our separate ways. Felix pays the bill at the front desk once we've gotten our suitcases back into the car. I climb into the passenger seat and Felix shakes his head.
"No," he says, "You're driving today. You need the practice."
I blink. But he's not leaving any room open for negotiation. Our new friends pull out of the drive and disappear. I change seats with Felix and take the wheel.
He guides me along, correcting as we go. There's over fifty miles to go and he clearly intends for me to be an expert by the time we get there. I'm a little nervous about driving straight into a city I've never been to before.
"We should at least stop at a hotel," I say, "And check out early."
"To do what?"
"To freshen up," I say.
"To meet rumrunners?"
I give him a look and the throws his hands in the air, defeated.
There's more traffic on the road this morning. The closer we get to Detroit, the more cars appear. A Ford screams by, going about fifty.
