Part 3 (1/2)

Between the hat and the sungla.s.ses, Vera couldnat see much of the womanas face. She was young, for sure, with slender legs and arms and a pretty bow mouth.

And then Gloria pa.s.sed between them with a rectangular package in her hands and disappeared through the door.

A second later, Sungla.s.ses followed.

And a moment after that, Vera followed Sungla.s.ses. Gloriaas bright red hair was about twenty feet away. That girl stuck out like a bonfire in the dark. Bobbing along ten feet behind her was Sungla.s.sesa large hat.

The woman was definitely following Gloria. Veraas heart tightened. What should she do? If she yelled Gloriaas name, would Gloria be happy to see her? Or would she run away?

Calm down, Vera told herself. Right now she needed to get this creepy woman away from her brotheras girlfriend.

Vendorsa stalls lined the sidewalk, selling cheap jewelry and hats and other thingsa”the sorts of things that made walking fast difficult. Vera stepped into the street, put her head down, and rushed past the stalls. Within a few minutes, she had overtaken both Gloria and the woman. When she got to the corner, she doubled back.

A scarf vendoras tiny cart was parked right near the intersection. The vendora”an older black man with disordered haira”had stepped away and was busy smoking and talking with another man outside the delicatessen on the corner.

Vera pretended to study a set of sparkly headbands. Gloria pa.s.sed, with Sungla.s.ses a dozen feet behind. Vera slipped behind the cart, counted to three in her head, grabbed the cart by its bottom, and put all her strength into tipping it over.

It made a satisfyingly loud noise when it hit the ground. The womanas shriek that accompanied the crash was even more satisfying. The cart had found its target.

Vera ducked low behind an old Model T and hoofed it around the corner and out of sight behind a van on the far side of the street.

The vendor had set his cart upright again and was standing in front of Sungla.s.ses, pointing his finger at her. aWhat, you think thatas funny? Messing with a manas livelihood?a The woman said something, and the vendor threw up his hands.

Vera looked in the direction that Gloria had been walking in. Gloriaas bright red hair and bold blue dress were nowhere to be seen.

GLORIA.

Gloria pretended to study a gla.s.s-topped table.

Had she gotten the address wrong? The sign read SAUNDERSa FURNITURE, but that couldnat be right. Could it?

She should have known that this joba”which seemed practically tailor-made for hera”was too good to be true.

As she examined an ugly old maple bookcase, she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see a balding older man with silver hair and horn-rimmed gla.s.ses. He wore a simple collared s.h.i.+rt and brown trousers and spoke with a slight Southern tw.a.n.g.

aWelcome to Saundersa, young lady. You lookina for anything specific today, or just browsing?a Gloria tried to seem nonchalant. aJust browsing, thank you.a aHeading to a party later? I canat imagine youad get so dolled up just to visit my store, though Iad be mighty flappered if you did.a He guffawed. aGet it?a Gloria blushed, glancing down at her long emerald-green dress. It was one shead brought from Chicagoa”a Chanel chiffon with a dropped waist. It had sheer, ruffled cap sleeves and a scoop neckline, though it didnat scoop so far as to be inappropriate for the daytime. It was a bit fancy for furniture shopping, but it was the most flattering dress she currently owned.

She pulled a copy of the New York Times out of her purse and flipped to the page she wanted. aSir, would you happen to know anything about this? I called earlier and made an appointment, but perhaps I mixed up some information.aa The man pushed his gla.s.ses up on his nose and looked at the newspaper, reading the heading of the cla.s.sified ad: WANTED: INGENUE TO SING AT HOT NEW CLUB!.

Green-eyed redheads especially desired to sing bluesy tunes. Established talents need not apply; we want only fresh blooda”preferably from out West. New to town? This could be the gig you came here for!

TEL. SPRING 4829.

Call for an appointment between 12 and 5 Note: A singer taller than 5a3a will throw off our aesthetics.

He looked toward the back of the store and called, aNeal! Get out here!a A young man with a long face and messy dark hair walked through a swinging door at the back of the room. aWhatas going on, Pop?a The old man beckoned him to come closer. aThis young lady would like to see the vanity weave got on hold.a Nealas eyes brightened. aOh, right, the vanity.a Gloria had no idea what was going on. aI really donat need a vanity.a aFollow Neal and youall find what youare looking for, darlina. Though I canat imagine what a sweet girl like you could want down there.a Gloria straightened her posture. aIam not as sweet as I look.a Why hadnat she thought of it before? Even though the police usually knew where the speakeasies were (and even frequented them), clubs had to at least keep up the appearance of hiding themselves away. Most clubs had some sort of fronta”apparently this furniture store was one of them.

In her two-toned pumps, Gloria followed Neal around open crates and pieces of half-a.s.sembled furniture. At the back of the shop, Neal opened a door onto a narrow hallway that ended in red velvet curtains. Just past those was a spiral staircase.

aWell, this is as far as I go,a Neal said. aNice meeting you, Miss, uha”?a aRose. Zuleika Rose,a Gloria said.

This would be the first audition shead gone to without Jerome accompanying her. Shead sung her song three times in front of the mirror this morning, making sure each phrase and each facial expression was just right. She was as ready as she would ever be.

As she descended the rusty-railed staircase, she noticed that the barroom was practically empty. Red leather booths lined the wall closest to the stairs. Spotted but grand mirrors hung behind each booth, giving diners the chance to subtly ogle the men and women along the bar. Across the golden hardwood dance floor was a sea of small wooden tables and chairs, where anyone who didnat have the face or the money for a booth could rest their gams.

But what made Gloria smile was at the opposite end of the barroom: the stage.

It was small but nicely decked out. Plush gold curtains hugged the sides, and the gleaming rosewood of the boards shone as if it had been polished. A light threw a glowing spot center stage, just waiting for Gloria to fill it. A good-looking young man with dirty-blond hair picked out a slow tune on the grand piano.

aItas a ducky joint, ainat it?a A lanky man stood at the foot of the stairs, holding a clipboard. He had a thin face with an almost comically long nose and small, muddy eyes. He was wearing an orange bowler and a red vest with orange polka dots.

He smiled with a mouthful of crooked teeth. aYouare a little late, my dear.a aIam sorry. When I scheduled the audition, the girl didnat say anything about the furniture store, or how this isa”a aA speakeasy?a The man t.i.ttered. aWe try not to mention that if we can help it.a He stuck out his hand. aYouare a Zuleika, right?a aI am,a she said, shaking his hand. aZuleika Rose.a aThatas a h.e.l.luva strange name,a he replied.

aWhy, thank you!a Gloria had chosen it from a novel shead read. She hoped he hadnat read the same book. He didnat seem the reading type.

aThey call me Spark,a he said, doffing his hat and sketching a little bow. aWelcome to the Opera House.a Spark sat down at one of the wooden tables. aThe nameas newa”we used to be called the Kennel Klub and a couple of other things before that. Brings in more customers every time we shut down and reopen.a aI like the walls,a Gloria said. Most of the clubs shead visited didnat care about decoration. Patrons came for two reasons: jazz and booze. They didnat spend time studying the dcor. But the murals here were totally jakea”a reddened, stylized New York City, packed with skysc.r.a.pers and tiny figures rus.h.i.+ng about. And the scarlet tint gave the speakeasy even more of a risky, dangerous feel. It looked like a sw.a.n.ky version of h.e.l.l.

Spark looked around as he lit a cigarette. aOh, yeah, that was Vito, Puccinias son. Puccinias the guy who owns the place, and his son thinks heas an artist, or some horsefeathers.a Spark picked up his clipboard. aIave gotta ask you a few questions before you go wail up there.a He pulled a pencil out from behind his ear. aAddress?a aYou can reach me care of Post Office Box One Sixty-Eight.a aI didnat ask where I could reach you, I asked where you live.a aActually, you said aaddress.a a That seemed to fl.u.s.ter him. aI meant, where do you live?a Gloria forced a little laugh. She needed this job. aOh, here in the city.a aWell, I didnat think you took a steamboat to get here,a he said, tugging at his bow tie. He seemed nervous. aCamon, darlina, itas not a tough question.a aI live uptown. Near Harlem,a Gloria replied. aItas cheaper.a aThatas awful close to all them Negroes. You donat mind? I wouldnat feel safe, personally, and youare just a little bit of a thing. Who knows, maybe you like the Negroes.a She could feel a blush spread over her cheeks. What kind of question was that? He was a creep. aDonat be ridiculous,a she replied.

Spark shrugged. He seemed to be looking behind Gloria rather than at her. aDonat worry about ita”no judgment here.a Gloria remained silent. There was something fishy about this guy.

aAnyways,a Spark said with a frustrated groan, aNegroes make the best musicians. Duke Ellington and all that.a He pointed at the handsome pianist up on the stage. aThe ones I seen are a h.e.l.l of a lot better than that kid, let me tell you.a He cleared his throat. aYou, uh, ever come across any fine black piano players?a aNever,a Gloria lied, hoping Spark didnat ask many more questions. Most auditions, she just sang and got sent on her way.

aYeah, I guess you ainat had much time. You look like youare still in school. You strike me as the kind of dame who went to one of those bluenose prep schools.a aWhat makes you say that?a He glanced over her shoulder again. Gloria turned, trying to see what he was staring at, but saw only her own image in the mirror behind the bar.

aOh, Iave just got a cousin, or a frienda”a friend of a cousin, reallya”who went to a school like that.a Spark took a few deep breaths. aYou wouldnat know her. She lives in Chicago.a Gloria shook her head a little faster than probably looked natural. aCanat say Iave ever been.a aThatas too bad, itas a fine city. Windy, eh? So a windy. Anyhow, this cousin of a friend is a real pistol. I guess she got into a bad spot back there and pushed her friends away. Even stabbed one in the back.a aWell then,a Gloria said brightly, aIam glad sheas not here!a aYeah! I hope she isnat! Would be a bad place for her to turn up.a Gloria nodded toward his clipboard. aMaybe you want to hear me sing?a Spark gave one last glance at the back wall. aSure, I think weare all set. Letas see what you can do.a As Gloria walked to the stage, she glanced again at the mirror behind the bar. Had someone been watching them? Watching her? No, that was silly. Spark was just a creepy older guy. Either that or fascinated by s.h.i.+ny things. Or a completely spliffed. Wouldnat be the first speakeasy worker shead met who sampled the goods.

Gloria pulled her sheet music from her bag and handed it to the piano player. She tried to imagine she was handing the music to Jerome: the way his fingers would linger on hers for just a moment and how he would wink and give a smile meant just for her. But this man took the music without any ceremony, the way any stranger would.

aYou ready?a She nodded, exhaling as he began to play the introduction, and stepped close to the microphone. Back when she had auditioned at the Green Mill, she had refused to sing her favorite song: aDownhearted Blues,a by Bessie Smith. Shead told Jerome that she didnat give away her best stuff for free.

But that had been before she knew what it was like to be hungry. And worse, what it was like to watch the man she loved go hungry as well.

Today she would give away the best she had, and she would sing as if there were a hep band behind her and a roaring audience in front of her.

Gee, but itas hard to love someone when that someone donat love you.

Iam so disgusted, heart-broken, too. Iave got those down-hearted blues.

Once I was crazy about a man. He mistreated me all the time.

The next man I get, heas got to promise me to be mine, all mine.

Trouble, trouble, Iave had it all my days.

Trouble, trouble, Iave had it all my days.

It seems that troubleas going to follow me to my grave.

She felt as if she were in her voice. It was the best shead ever sung.