Part 7 (1/2)

A handsome white man with close-cropped brown hair stepped up to the microphone as the song playing on the Gramophone ended. He raised his hand and the crowd quieted.

aThank you, ladies and gentlemen, and welcome to the Cotton Club!a The room filled with polite applause. aThis next act is one thata”and I am not exaggeratinga”will change your life. You havenat heard jazz until youave heard these cats. Without further ado, I give you Fletcher Henderson and His Orchestra!a A young black singer with a trimmed beard took the mike as a mustachioed black man with slicked-back hair stood up in front of the orchestra, baton in hand. Then the members of the orchestra raised their instruments and a burst of music came forth.

It made Vera want to dance, to sway her hips in time with the luxurious rhythms, the timpani and the ba.s.s and the trumpet, the trill of the flute and the sharp, piercing notes of the clarinet. The singer jumped in from time to time with nonsense words that managed to sound cool and jubilant at the same moment.

Vera swelled with pride when Evan stepped away from the group to play a trumpet solo. He looked good up therea”the spotlight making him as s.h.i.+ny and bright as any jewel in the audience. The pa.s.sion that filled his facea”no, his entire bodya”as he played was remarkable.

This was music as shead never heard it before. This was what jazz was all about. In the old days, musicians marched to the beat of the same boring old drummer, but no morea”these days, every performance of a song was different. Modern songs practically burst at the seams with improvised solos and ad-libbed singing and all the energy and life of being young. There was something mad and wonderful happening to music here in New York City; no one would ever think the same way about it again.

aYou can see just as well from over here,a a manas gravelly voice called from a row of wooden chairs near the back wall. aNo reason a pretty dame like yourself should have to stand all night.a Despite his raspy voice, the man barely looked older than Evan. He lifted a silver bucket next to his seat and spat a brown streak of liquid into it. aTobacco always helps to settle my nerves before I go onstage.a She took in his tuxedo. aIs your act coming up soon?a The man chuckled. aMy act is actually up there right now. I got food poisonina last night. Redman convinced Fletcher to be a pal and let me skip the first set so I can rest up a bit.a aOh, you must be Pops! Iam Vera!a she said, then rushed to add, aEvanas told me all about you.a He reached out to take her hand. aFolks sometimes call me Dippermouth, due to my horrible habits. But Iad be honored if you, Vera, would call me Louis.a According to Evan, Louis Armstrong was the best horn player head ever met. Fletcher Henderson had worked hard to recruit him out of Chicago.

Louis pointed at her. aEvanas told me a lot about you. Youare a Chicago native, too, ainat that right?a She nodded. aBorn and raised.a aI miss Chicago. With all due respect to Fletcher, Chi-town is where the real happening is. Theyave got King Oliver, the Wolverines, and the great Jelly Roll Morton.a aYeah, Morton is my brother Jeromeas hero,a Vera said wistfully.

aYouare not talking about Jerome Johnson?a Louis asked.

aI am. Have you seen him?a she asked, hoping he had a lead.

aI saw him play once at the Green Mill. If anyone were going to give Jelly a run for his money, it would definitely be that kid. Heas got music in every inch of his fingers.a aI, uh, havenat seen him in a while,a Vera said.

aJerome Johnson?a called a chorus girl in an elaborate headdress from a few feet away. aBoy came in here a couple of weeks ago looking for a job. Weave already got a pianist, so we all recommended he try Connieas. I heard their player quit to look for something more steady.a Connieas Inn. That was one place Vera hadnat looked yet. aOh, thank you!a she said. aAny chance a singer named Gloria Rose was with him when he stopped by? Pretty white girl with red hair?a The chorus girlas eyes widened. aA white girl? No, it was just Jerome. Owney would never let a white singer audition. He wants his chocolate on the stage and his milk in the audience.a Glad to have another lead, Vera went back to listening to the music. She heard another trumpet solo, then said goodbye to Louis, rose from her seat, and went back to the wings to get a better look at the band.

After Evanas second solo ended, her eyes strayed to the audience. Smiling face after smiling face, all beaming at Evan and the band. And then she saw a familiar bobbed red head at the front of the crowd: Gloria.

She still looked a bit thin, but much more put together than she had at the post office a week earlier. She was decked out in a breathtaking gold dress that fell in layers of fringe over her body. She looked almost happy.

This was it: Veraas chance to save her brother.

Without a second thought, Vera dashed from the wings and onto the stage. A part of her noticed how every eye in the club turned toward her, but she couldnat stop now. aGloria!a she shouted.

Gloriaas green eyes widened with pure and total shock. But instead of running toward Vera, she darted the other way, into the crowd.

Ever the professional, Fletcher continued to conduct his orchestra without missing a beat.

Vera leaped from the stage and somehow managed to land on her feet, despite the crowd and her heels.

She tried to follow Gloria through the swarms of complaining white people, but she quickly lost sight of the girl. aGloria!a she yelled again. aCome back!a Before Vera could call Gloriaas name a third time, two muscular white men grabbed her arms and dragged her toward a side exit. aYou are in the wrong place to be lookina like you do,a one of them said.

aIf you know whatas good for you, girlie, you wonat set foot in this place ever again. We wonat be anywhere near as polite next time,a the other bouncer said as he pushed her out the door and slammed it in her face.

Thwarted. Again.

Why had Gloria fled instead of waiting to meet up with her? Vera was here in New York to save her, not to hurt her.

Vera walked out of the alley and stared at the club. She considered waiting out front for Gloria to emerge, but then one of the bouncers stepped outside and stood on the sidewalk with his arms crossed.

So she walked away, defeated. She would explain to Evan later. She just hoped she hadnat cost him his job. And she hadnat even seen Ethel Waters perform.

So far her time in New York had been one failure after another. But how many chances would she get? If she didnat find her brother soon, Carlitoa”or the killera”most certainly would.

GLORIA.

Gloria didnat want to make a scene.

But she was desperate to get away from Vera.

She shoved through the crowd on the dance floor and into the dining area, trying to avoid taking down one of the artificial palm trees that contributed to the clubas ajunglea dcor.

It was only after she had slipped inside the door to the kitchen that she remembered to breathe.

What if the gangsters who ran the Cotton Club noticed her? What if they had one of those LOST GIRL flyers hung up in their back office? How many redheads turned up in these jazz clubs? Who knew how far Carlitoas influence reached?

In the kitchen, some servers called orders through a pa.s.s-through window while others fed dirty dishes through another. Others stood at metal tables arranging plates and gla.s.ses on serving trays before sweeping through the double doors and back into the bustle of the club proper.

aUh, maaam, I donat think youare supposed to be back here,a a sweet-looking black man said quietly. Three other black men in serversa tails looked up from the metal prep table, and one rushed over: Jerome.

He tapped the man on the shoulder. aItas all right, boys, Robbiea”Gloriaas here with me. She took in the show from the floor while I watched from back here.a His grin faded as he registered Gloriaas distressed expression.

aYou should explain things better, Jerome. Before you get us all into trouble,a Robbie said. aNow, if youall excuse me aa He lifted his tray high and exited through the double doors.

aJerome, youall never guess whoasa”a Gloria started, but he shushed her.

aThis ainat the place for idle chatter, Gloria. People are working here. Come on.a Without touching her, Jerome led her into a corner, as far as they could get from the bustling workers.

Since the Harlem nightclub was segregated, theyad split up and come in through different entrances. Gloria had dressed up and sweet-talked her way through the front door; Jerome had put on an old suit of tails and joined his friend Robbieas waitstaff at the back.

Gloria had been surprised when Jerome had proposed making a visit to the Cotton Club. aItas Ethel Watersas debut there. If youare going to sing jazz in New York City,a head said, athen you need to see the hottest acts. And Ethel is one of the best.a Gloria had never heard so many top-quality musicians playing together. It made her all the more thankful to be here, in New York, following her dream.

Jerome put a calming hand on her arm. aWhatas wrong, Glo? You look like youave seen a ghost.a aNo, not a ghosta”your sister. Sheas here.a Jerome gaped. He didnat talk about Vera much, but Gloria knew he missed his little sister. aWhere?a aOnstage,a Gloria said. aI have no idea why. I got scared and ran and I think she came after me.a Jerome glanced over at Robbie, whoad just returned from the bar. aIs there a way to get backstage without going through the bar?a Robbie laughed and pointed to a door on the far wall. aCourse there is. How do you think we get the hooch to the band?a Jerome led Gloria through the door. They rushed down a grimy hallway and suddenly found themselves backstage.

For a moment, Gloria let herself take everything in: the men and women busying themselves with their costumes and instruments, pitchers of water and gla.s.ses of gin and whiskey strewn everywhere, cables and wires and lights and curtains and ropes, the hardwood floora”everything about it was beautiful. Dirty, sure, and sort of cluttered, but glorious nonetheless.

This was where music was being made. Where stars were being born.

A young black man with wavy hair and a big jaw immediately approached them. Jerome laughed and swept up the man in a hug. aJimmy Roadsa”how are you?a aGood, good, and great. Laverne and Juicy let me know you stopped by a few weeks agoa”why didnat you tell me you were in town?a Jimmy took in Jeromeas outfit and whistled. aA master like you certainly doesnat need to stoop to a waiter job.a aNaw, this is just for tonight,a Jerome replied. aWanted to see Ethel perform. Gloria, this is Jimmya”we used to play together at the Checkered Lounge before I ended up at the Green Mill.a Gloria smiled, but she was distracted, looking for Vera. aItas nice to meet you, Jimmy. It doesnat look like sheas still here, Jerome.a Jimmy whistled low again and said, aYou mean that black girl who threw herself into the audience? She was standing right where youare standing now, and then she just hopped off the stage like a crazy bearcat.a aThat was my sister,a Jerome said.

aWell, your sister got thrown out.a ad.a.m.n,a Jerome said. He turned and glanced at the stage. aBut look!a he said, motioning to Gloria. aIsnat that Evan?a Gloria put her hand to her chest as she recognized Evan in the trumpet section. She was surprised she hadnat noticed him before. He was the only member of the band at the Green Mill whoad worked to make her feel welcome. At least until the band found out about her true ident.i.ty. Then he hadnat been so friendly.

Evan looked over and saw Jerome. Gloria expected him to do something crazya”wasnat he shocked they were there?a”but all Evan did was nod.

Gloria and Jerome stepped back into the chaos of musicians milling around backstage. aDidnat it look like he expected to see you?a Gloria asked Jerome.

aYeah. But heas playinga”thereas not much he can tell us until his set is over.a Jerome chuckled. aOnly a girl like Vera would be dumb enougha”and brave enougha”to do what she did. Interrupt a show! Leap into the all-white audience!a Gloria frowned. What were Vera and Evan doing here? If it had been Evan alone, she might have understooda”plenty of musicians moved from Chicago to New York. But there was nothing to bring Vera here. Nothing except Jerome. But why now? And how had Vera and Evan even known where to find them? It was a strict rule between Gloria and Jerome: They didnat let anyone know where they were. But it seemed Jerome had told Vera and Evan all about what he and Gloria had been up to.

A mustachioed white man puffing a cigar came through the door. aThis ainat a farmyard. Weave got an audience trying to hear the music out there, so all of you shut up.a The clump of musicians and chorus girls stopped talking and moved back toward the chairs against the backstage wall, leaving Jerome and Gloria standing alone. The man took a long look at Jerome, scratching his chin. Then he pointed. aHey, I know you! Youare that punk piano player that Carlito Macharelli is looking for.a The man stepped forward and tried to catch Jeromeas collar. But suddenly Jimmy and a slew of other musicians came between them. aGo,a Jimmy whispered to Gloria and Jerome, aget outta here. Now.a Jerome grabbed Gloriaas hand and pulled her across the backstage area and out a door that opened onto an alleywaya”into the darkness, into the night.

The subway ride home wasnat long at all, but to Gloria it felt like hours.

Jerome sat a seat away from her and said nothing. She glanced over at him a few times but eventually stared at the floor in angry silence. It wasnat her fault that Vera was in New York and that theyad possibly missed their only chance to talk to her.

But they couldnat have hung around. Any mobsters who laid eyes on them wouldave sent them right to Carlito.