Title: The Corrupted Heart

Author: Odysseus61188

Genre: Historical Fiction– Drama

Setting: New York City, 1927

Plot: Nathan Parker is lured back to New York, a city he abandoned years ago, where he meets and falls in love with the dazzling jazz headliner Victoria Moore. But then he finds out that two dangerous thugs are also after her heart, and willing to kill anyone that prevents them from having her. He must be the victor. But can he win her heart, triumph over the others, and not fall prey to the greed and corruptness of the 1920s?

Notes: THIS IS A REWRITE of my past story, "A Little Greed, A Little Murder, A Little Jazz." This rewrite will be a full-length novel, as opposed to the original, which is a short novella.

THE CORRUPTED HEART

Chapter Ten

I glanced over to the door. Sure enough, Pamela Drake and her redheaded friend had entered the club.

They walked passed the bar, all three of our eyes focused on them. As they passed, Mrs. Drake noticed our stares.

"Oh, hello," she said, recognizing the three of us. "How do you do, Mr. Parker? Mr. Caragon? Mr. Drexel?"

"Fine," the three of us replied in unison, not convincing at all; we were all still staring, out of the corner of our eyes, at Drake and Victoria, across the room, socializing with several other couples.

"Well, that's nice," she said. She motioned to her redheaded friend. "This is Cindy Bernhardt, my cousin. She just took the train in from Seattle last week."

"It's a pleasure, Miss Bernhardt," Caragon said, rather genteelly, an act, no doubt; he had this certain gift of charming people, which I used to admire, but no longer did; it was a pretty cheap way to connive and scheme, in my humble opinion. "My name is Henry Caragon."

"It's a pleasure, Mr. Caragon," Miss Bernhardt replied, shaking his hand dreamily. She seemed to be under his spell already. A new time record.

"How long are you in town for?" he asked her.

"Oh, just until the day after tomorrow," she answered sadly. "I leave early in the morning."

"I see," he answered. He suddenly seemed to realize that Drex and I were standing next to him; all part of his plan, I suppose, to make himself look more important by making it seem that he was above us. "This is Max Drexel and Nathan Parker."

"A pleasure," she said, a lot less dreamily than she did when addressing Caragon. Drex seemed to notice it as well; while he was shaking Miss Bernhardt's hand, he was scowling viciously at Caragon.

Cindy Bernhardt turned to me. "We met at the hotel, didn't we?"

"Informally," I answered, shaking her hand. "I'm Nathan Parker."

"How do you do," she said, becoming very proper.

"If you're going to stay over here, Cindy, I'll go and find Preston," she said.

"I-" I began, but couldn't finish. What would I say? Don't look for him because he's with his mistress? That certainly wouldn't go over well. But if she did find him, I knew it would be quite a scene; I kept thinking about Caragon saying Pamela was a vicious woman. I couldn't let her confront Victoria.

"Perhaps you would like to let me buy you a drink, first, Mrs. Drake?"

Pamela Drake smiled at Drex. "I would like that very much, Mr. Drexel."

Drexel gave me a slightly apathetic look, and then winked, as Mrs. Drake pulled him away to find two adjacent seats at the bar.

"Well, I see that Pamela is enjoying herself," Miss Bernhardt told Caragon and I, sitting in Drexel's empty seat. "She doesn't usually come to the Prince, I understand, but I asked her to."

"That would explain a lot," I replied, without thinking. Miss Bernhardt, luckily, didn't seem to notice anything, as I quickly changed the subject. "You're from Seattle, Miss Bernhardt?"

"I am," she said. This conversation seemed to be a dead end; after all, how many conversation points really existed in Seattle? Nevertheless, I prayed with all of my heart that she would find some interesting tangent but, of course, she didn't; she just sat there, twiddling her thumbs mindlessly.

Caragon opened his mouth, as if ready to start a new topic, but didn't, and simply went back to his drink. What a boring lot we were; we needed Drex here to keep the conversation going.

"Perhaps I should go find Preston for Pamela," Miss Bernhardt said, beginning to get up.

Both Caragon and I protested profusely, ending with Caragon giving the bartender more money to buy her another drink. I assumed that, as long as we kept the alcohol coming, she would stay with us. I desperately hoped that Victoria would realize it was late and made a mad rush for the exit. Unfortunately, across the club, I saw her still deep in conversation with several finely dressed men. In the other corner of the room, I saw Pamela still drinking and laughing with Drex. Both of them seemed to be getting rather drunk; every time I looked over, their cackles seemed to be louder, and their motions more exaggerated. I rather hoped they would stop; if Pamela would be vicious upon seeing Victoria, I imagined Drake being a thousand times more vicious upon seeing Drexel.

By the time I returned my focus to Miss Bernhardt and Caragon, they were deep in conversation about one of those new shows that opened up on Broadway; apparently both of them had seen it. I held little interest; such mundane Manhattan gossip didn't interest me much, so I continued glancing around the nightclub, watching everyone like a hawk, sipping my lemon water cautiously, but soon grew tired of that.

"I'm going to speak with Victoria," I told Caragon. He nodded offhandedly, obviously not listening; if he had been, he would undoubtedly wish to come with me. I had expected him not to listen; he was the last person I wanted to go with me.