Chapter Thirty-OnePEACOCK TERRACE, DALLAS, TEXAS,
June 17, 1930
“Scuse me, young lady. I couldn’t help but notice the redhead over in the corner, and I saw you were sittin’ with her. Is that really who I think it is?”
The Peacock Terrace was a combination restaurant and dancing venue on the top floor of the Baker. It was decorated in light peacock blue and teal, and the white ceiling beams were interspersed with fake greenery to give it a garden-like appearance. After our last hectic escape from the photographers and the sharks with notepads and press passes, it was a little oasis in the sky. Especially with a couple lemonades doctored from a flask. We’d stopped in for a very late lunch, since the rush had passed, and few diners were there.
I was returning from the ladies’ room when a
