Part 6 (2/2)

aThis s.h.i.+ndig is all wet,a Leelee said.

Clara sighed. aThis is a bust. Letas skedaddle.a A clock began to chime as they made their way to the exit. So Clara wasnat a journalist. She still had a wonderful boyfriend who loved her, and a prestigious education waiting for hera”

aEveryone pipe down!a a man yelled. Instantly everyone in the room held still, fixed by the voice. It was what theyad been waiting for: someone to command them.

Clara looked up and saw a young man at the top of the staircase, addressing the entire room. He was tall, sharply attired, and handsome, with dark hair slicked away from his face. aAs you all know, our good friend Maxie is now a man.a At this, the teenage crowd exploded into applause, and a few whistled.

aBut wait!a the boy said. aIf you know Maxie anywhere near as well as I do, you know he has spent his first eighteen years indulging in some very questionable behavior.a Several guests laughed. aAnd I donat think the sophisticated ladies at Yale will be impressed. So we have decided that Maxie needs to wash away his sins in the pond in Central Park. A baptism into his new life, as it were. And I invite all of you to witness the ceremony!a The young man stepped aside, and Clara could finally see what had been going on: The group of teenagers was working to pull a white dress s.h.i.+rt off a young man with dirty-blond hair. They succeeded, leaving him in only his unders.h.i.+rt and trousers.

This had to be Maxie Gabel, the birthday boy. Maxie was obviously drunk but was trying his hardest to escape his friendsa clutches. Once head lost his pants as well, he managed to slip away from the group and bounded down the staircase.

aGet him!a Maxieas friend yelled, running after the guest of honor.

The crowd roared in excitement and turned as one to chase Maxie and his friends out of the ballroom. Scores of sparkling teenagers tumbled down the stairs and through the hotelas restaurant.

aStop that man!a they yelled, laughing hysterically as they b.u.mped and sprawled across the late-night dinersa tables and knocked into waiters carrying trays of food. Then they were out the other side, through the lobby, and into the summer night.

Clara was exhilarated by the chase. As they moved through the Central Park trees, the party guests fanned out and cornered Maxie along the sh.o.r.e of the pond. He stood ankle-deep in water, panting and looking desperate, staring daggers at the boy whoad made the speech on the staircase. aArthur, please donat make me do this,a he said.

aIad really rather not, dear friend. But you are a dirty, dirty boy. And this is for your own good.a Maxie glanced at the boys on either side of him, who stood ready to push him into the pond.

aThe cleansing will work far better if you submit to it willingly!a Then Maxie gave a defeated shrug. aOh, may as well!a With that, he stripped off most of the rest of his clothing and belly flopped into the water.

aAttaboy!a Arthur exclaimed. The partygoers cheered.

Maxie disappeared under the water and resurfaced some distance out. aYou all should join mea”the wateras fine!a Clara had no idea where Coco and Leelee had gone off to. She glanced around at the smiling facesa”there was the mayoras son, making out with a girl she recognized as the daughter of Terri Pottington, a famous New York socialite, and there was Frankie Marlborough, heir to the cigarette throne, puking in a bush. She made a few quick mental notes for the column she was going to write as soon as she got home.

aThatas the spirit!a the boy called Arthur said, and he charged into the water with his tux still on.

The other boys whoad chased Maxie jumped in as well. The sound of splas.h.i.+ng water and laughter filled the warm summer air. After a moment of hesitation, during which they were probably worrying about ruining their dresses, the girls followed in a shrieking, giggling tide, flashes of red and green and yellow disappearing into the ink-black water, illuminated only by the amber light of a handful of street-lamps.

Clara stared down at her own dressa”her beautiful, expensive Chanel work of art. But she knew that what she would get by diving into the pond would be worth much more than any old dress. Shead have to ask Parker for an advance on her next paychecka”theread be no returning this dress once it got soaked.

She kicked off her shoes and jumped in, gasping at the cold. She wiggled her arms and legs, trying to warm herself up, and splashed over to Arthur, nudging his arm. aThat was quite a speech,a she said.

aWhy, thank you,a Arthur said. He was even handsomer up close, but in a more imperfect way than shead thought from a distance. His wet brown hair looked almost black in the darkness and stuck out in every possible direction, the pomade that had been taming it washed away. His large hazel eyes crinkled when he showed off his slightly crooked but adorable grin. aDo I know you?a Clara shrugged, using a wet hand to remove her ruined headdress. aI donat know. Youall definitely know me if you introduce yourself.a He stuck out his hand. aIam Arthur Spence.a aSpence a as in Julia Spence?a aSheas my older sister.a He gave a full-throated laugh. aOh, youare Clara Knowles! Julia adores you.a aAnd I adore her!a With her flaming red hair and practically violet eyes, Julia would have put every would-be flapper at this party to shame.

aArthur, my headas starting to hurt,a Maxie called from the other side of the pond.

aOh no!a Arthur said. aWell, I know a remedy for that. It starts with a g and ends with in.a He raised a finger into the air. aBack to the Plaza, everyone!a As he waded out of the water, he extended his hand toward Clara. aCome along now, Clara Knowles, youave got to tell me everything youave been up to so I can report back to my sister. Sheall never believe I ran into the Queen of Sheba herself.a Clara took his hand and enjoyed the warmth of the evening air. aPos-i-lute-ly.a She stepped into her shoes, felt mud squish against the toe straps. aYou seem like exactly the sort of depraved fellow a girl should know.a As she mingled with Arthur, Maxie, and their friends, she mentally filed away a dozen new leads for articles. The Cotton Club was up in Harlem, and a new Greenwich Village speakeasy called the Opera House had just opened.

When Clara at last stumbled into her Brooklyn apartment, it was already getting light outside. But rather than sleep, she sat down in her desk chair without even taking off her wrinkled dress and stockings. She rolled a piece of paper into her Royal 10 typewriter and began to write: GLITTERING FOOLS: WET & WILD.

Maxie Gabel may have started Friday evening as a meek young schoolboy, but at the stroke of midnight, he arose from the waters of the Central Park pond a new man.

She typed furiously through the early morning until the column was finished. As she read through the pages, a smile spread across her face. She didnat need Parkeras stamp of approval or anyone elseas. She knew this column was good.

After a load of mistakes and self-doubt, Clara had finally figured out who she really was.

She was a writer.

FOOLaS GOLD

n.o.body has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.

a”Zelda Fitzgerald VERA.

Vera studied her reflection in the mirror.

After two weeks of running all over the city looking for Jerome, she was exhausted. Shead checked practically every club in Harlem that had a piano. A few musicians had heard of her brother, but none could give her any help in locating him. And shead waited under the clock in Grand Central, but if he had picked up the note shead mailed, he never showed up.

Now she was back at the Harlem boardinghouse where she and Evan were staying. Her room offered only the absolute basicsa”a cotlike bed, a dresser, and a flimsy table with a mirror hanging over it. But it was cheap, there were regular meals, and the room was right below Evanas.

The boardinghouse was only a few blocks away from the Cotton Club. It hadnat been all that long since gangsters had seized the Club De Luxe and transformed it into the Cotton Club, but the joint had already built a reputation for staging one of the glitziest revues in town.

Vera was planning to make her first visit to the club that very evening to see Evan play. aEthel Waters is making her Cotton Club debut,a he told her, aand I think you should be there.a aEthel Waters?a Ethel Waters had taken Harlem by storm when shead come to New York a few years earlier, and she had quickly become one of the most famous blues singers in the country. A poster showing Waters hung on Veraas wall back in Chicago.

aThe very one. So gussy yourself up and take a night off,a Evan told her.

At least Vera still had the glitzy clothes shead brought with her from Chicago.

She s.h.i.+mmied into a silver beaded dress and pinned an Egyptian-inspired silver headdress to her hair. She clasped on her T-strap heels, added a spritz of perfume, and was ready at last.

At the foot of the boardinghouse stairs, a few men were shooting the breeze. One hard-boiled character with a scratchy beard whistled as she walked to the door. aHey, beautiful, you off to the Cotton Club?a aI am!a she said.

aYou better be in the chorus, then, doll face,a the man said. aEven a beaut like you wonat be able to get in the front door.a aI guess weall see!a She waved goodbye and set off.

If Vera got her way, a chorus girl was exactly what she would be by the end of the evening. She wasnat an idiot. She knew she wouldnat be able to get in through the front door of a whites-only joint like the Cotton Club. Even the name of the club was racista”it was supposed to bring to mind a cotton plantation. Blacks worked themselves to the bone onstage while the whites lounged in the audience and enjoyed themselves.

A few minutesa walk, and Vera could see the bright lights spelling out COTTON CLUB on the awning above the clubas entrance. Cadillacs, Lincolns, and Rolls-Royces were parked out fronta”fat cars for fat men with fat rolls of dough. Some wore pin-striped suits and fedoras, while others were decked out in tuxedos. The sequined dresses, beaded handbags, and feathered boas on the women were some of the finest Vera had ever seen.

When she reached the edge of the crowd, she turned and made her way down the dark, trash-strewn alley alongside the building. At the back of the Cotton Club, she found another linea”one of black singers, chorus girls, musicians, and workers unloading instruments.

Vera slinked through the group and tried to pa.s.s two men in tuxedos.

aHey there,a a young man with a mustache called as he lifted a tuba case. aWhere do you think youare goina?a aWho, me?a Vera asked, making her best doe eyes. aIam here about a job.a aOh, really?a Mustache put down the tuba case and walked over. aSad to say, weave got more than enough girls right now.a aAre you sure theyare the right girls, though?a Vera asked slyly.

Mustache chuckled and shook his head. aWhatas your name, darlina?a She extended her hand. aVera, Vera Johnson.a Another man looked up from the trunk he was unloading. aOh, donat you worry none about her, Ralph, thatas Evanas girla”the one heas always flappina his gums about.a Evan had called her his girl? aYep, thatas me.a Ralph shook her hand. aRalph Escudero. Nice to meet you.a The man whoad identified Vera came over. He had darker skin than Ralph and a face that looked as if it never stopped smiling. aIam Charlie Green. Sorry to cut this short, Vera, but Ralph and me better get onstage or Big Frenchyall have our heads. Just follow us in. n.o.bodyall give you any lip.a True to Charlieas word, the bouncer at the door barely gave Vera a second glance. Ralph and Charlie led the way through the winding halls and dim backstage. They pa.s.sed beautiful women dressed much like Veraa”probably other musiciansa girlfriendsa”and she spied the feathered costumes of the chorus girls.

Charlie and Ralph both shook her hand again before strutting onstage. The other men in the orchestra were already there, setting up their instruments. Vera leaned past the edge of the stage curtains and saw Evan looking very dapper in his tux, trumpet at his side. He looked up and caught her eye. She grinned widely, and he grinned back.

Vera looked out at the audience. A few scattered white couples were dancing to the Gramophone record that was playing between sets. The bright lights from the stage glinted off the jewelry the women were wearinga”princess-cut diamond necklaces and rich emerald earrings and sapphire brooches as blue as the ocean.

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