Ingenue Part 4

She jumped out of his way and straight into Ruby, the new waitress. aMy foot!a the brunette yelled, hopping up and down on one high-heeled shoe.

aSorry,a Lorraine mumbled. She noticed Rob across the room near the steps, lugging his ba.s.s case toward the stage.

Therea"getting the band set up! She knew that was on her to-do list.

She walked over and lifted one end of Robas ba.s.s. aHere you go,a she said.

Before theyad taken two steps, though, she became lost in her thoughts: What were Gloria and Jerome living on? Gloria had looked so excited when she got the job. As if she were thinking, Hooray, I finally have enough money to buy a can of tuna! Even after months of practically living on the street, Gloria hadnat lost that dippy charm she had. Always so hopeful. Always so nave.

That was when Lorraine forgot where she was going. She banged the end of the ba.s.s against a chair, then dropped it. The strings thrummed in deep alarm.

Rob stopped in his tracks. aDammit, Lorraine! What the h.e.l.l are you doing?a aDonat you dare swear at me!a Lorraine yelled back. People were staring. She needed to pull herself together. This was only the first time shead clapped eyes on Gloria since shead arrived in New York. She was going to have to see that perfect face of Gloriaas plenty more times before this mission was over.

aIam gonna go see how Vinnyas doing,a Lorraine announced. She cringed at the whispers filling the room as she climbed the steps.

Outside in the alley, Vinny was alone, presiding over a line of women and a few young men. A small table with a cash box, where he would place each guestas $2.50 cover charge, stood next to him.

It was a sweltering night. A few of the bobbed, fringe-covered young women waved feathered fans in front of their perfectly made-up faces. Lorraine didnat even look at the mena"that was how distracted she was.

aHi, Rainy Day,a Vinny said as Lorraine lit her cigarette. aWhat brings you out here?a aJust making sure everything is copacetic. Whatas the pa.s.sword tonight? Spifflicated?a Lorraine gasped as she noticed the smug grins that suddenly adorned many of the flappersa faces. She thought she had been whispering, but apparently that hadnat been the case.

Vinny groaned. aNot anymore, itas not. You think you can watch the door for a minute? Iave got to let aem all know weare changing it.a Vinny ducked inside.

aYou gonna let us in?a a girl with black hair asked with a smile. aWe know the pa.s.sword.a aShut up,a Lorraine snapped.

aOr what?a the girl asked in an annoying tone.

aIam not even going to deign to give you an answer,a Lorraine said, taking a drag of her cigarette and staring the girl down. aI eat girls like you for dinner. No, for breakfast! I could skin you and wear you as my fall coat!a The girl looked shocked and stepped away, turning and whispering to one of her friends.

aCome back here!a Lorraine shouted. The rest of the line was watching, but what did she care? aOpen up your purse.a The black-haired girl raised one thin eyebrow and was about to protest, but then her frienda"another girl around the same age, maybe seventeen or eighteena"pinched her and the girl opened the clasp of her purse.

aThatas more like it,a Raine said, spotting exactly what she was looking for. A flask. It shone as brightly as the dozens of pairs of earrings the flappers were wearing, brighter than all their necklaces and bracelets combined. She pawed it out and took a swig.

aHey, thatas mya"a aYour mouth is as big as the house I grew up in!a Lorraine said, swallowing the cheap vodka and burping. aAnd I grew up in a mansion. Here.a She pa.s.sed the flask back to the girl. aThanks.a aYou going to let us in now?a the girl asked, hopeful.

aNah,a Lorraine said. aWe donat allow outside hooch in our joint. Against house rules.a Vinny returned and gave Lorraineas hand a much-appreciated squeeze before she went back inside. She took out a cigarette and lit up as she walked downstairs.

Lorraine was glad to see that everyone was too busy to pay attention to her and her screwups. The band launched into a number, and people began filing downstairs behind her. She watched a group of girls dance the Breakaway together. They were a pretty buncha"a blonde, a redhead, and a brunette, all in dresses with exquisite, Egyptian-looking patterns. Their laughter mingled with the bandas upbeat piano and saxophone. Had she, Gloria, and Clara ever looked like that?

Clara. She sighed. Thinking of Clara also meant thinking of Marcus, and Lorraine tried to think of him as little as possible. Where was he now? Already in Manhattan? Lorraine knew now that she had been wrong to fall for an idiot like him in the first place. If she saw his swoony blue eyes at school in the fall, she had no idea what shead do. Vomit? Keel over? Slap him?

Cecil walked over and gave Lorraine a gla.s.s of ice water. She gratefully pressed the cool gla.s.s against her cheek.

aThe boss wants you to come talk to him at the bar,a he said.

Lorraine swallowed as she followed Cecil. A few days after shead started working at the Opera House, head told her a story about a waiter whoad mixed up orders a few years back. The boy had lost a hand, Cecil had said. He wouldnat tell her precisely how.

Lorraine slid onto a stool next to Puccini. When he turned to her, his cheeks were rounded into a jolly smile.

At first glance, Puccini looked almost as friendly as Vinny did when he wasnat performing his bouncer duties. Puccini was a short, overweight man wearing a fedora and an easy smile. But unlike Vinny, no matter what expression was on Puccinias face, his eyes remained empty black holes.

Puccini took off his hat and laid it on the bar, then pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his sweaty face and neck. His thin mustache left plenty of room on his face for his wide, creepy smile.

He pointed toward Lorraineas water gla.s.s. aI could use something like that myself,a he said. His voice was oddly pleasanta"almost musical. aVodka on the rocks, and another for the lady.a Puccini was the last man in the world Lorraine wanted to drink with, but she didnat dare say so. She held her gla.s.s of vodka to his. aWhat are we toasting?a aOur new songbird,a he said as their gla.s.ses clinked. aSpark told me you hired a real canary today.a He drank the vodka down in one gulp. aCanat wait to hear her sing. You know, thatas why they call me Puccinia"I love singing so much.a Lorraine blinked. aOh, I just thought that was your name.a He raised his bushy eyebrows. aGiacomo Puccini is one of the greatest artists who ever lived. Youave really never heard of him?a She shook her head, setting her mostly full gla.s.s back on the bar.

aWeare gonna have to teach you some culture, young lady,a he said. aWhat about Carlito? You hear anything about him lately? aCause I need to have a talk with him.a Puccini gripped her wrist tightly. aI might have to let him know that his little recruit is s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g with my kitchen, busting up my bandas expensive instruments, and giving away my pa.s.swords. Is that what you want?a Getting in trouble with Puccinia"no, no, no, Lorraine did not want that. Puccini had only hired someone as young as Lorraine because he was an old friend of Ernesto Macharelli, Carlitoas father and the right-hand man to Al Capone. Puccini did not know about Carlito and Lorraineas plan regarding Gloria and Jerome. It was Lorraineas job to make sure things stayed that way. If Puccini found out about Tonyas murder, it would get back to Ernesto. And Carlito had made it clear to Lorraine that he wanted to keep his slipup from his father most of all.

Lorraine swallowed hard. aNo, Puccini. Itas not.a He gave that a moment to sink in, then showed off those yellowish teeth once again in what was almost a smile. aHow about you take the night off, dolla"clear your head a little?a He turned away, making it clear that Lorraine didnat have a choice in the matter.

It was only once she was a few blocks away that Lorraine released the breath she had been holding. She stopped walking for a minute, ignoring the annoyed huffs of anyone who had to move around her. She had messed things up today, all because of Gloria. How typical.

Puccini could have done much worse. As long as she cleaned up her act, he wouldnat punish her or tell Carlito about her mistakes.

And a night off wasnat exactly the worst punishment.

Once she reached Broadway, the sidewalk became crowded. Groups of young people waited for tables at chic cafs, while others puffed on cigarettes and talked loudly. In front of her was a group of men who couldnat stop talking about an upcoming game at the brand-new Yankee Stadium. Outside Webster Hall, women in gowns of every imaginable color and men in tuxedos stood around waiting for some sort of show. Everybody looked happy and fabulous and Lorraine hated them all.

Inside her fourth-floor apartment, she dumped her bag, shucked off her heels, and headed straight to her bedroom. She dropped her black dress to the floor, pulled on a short white nightgown, brushed her teeth, and washed off her makeup.

And then, not five minutes after arriving home, Lorraine crawled into her silver-framed bed. She pulled the silky bedspread over herself. The sun had barely even set, but she was ready for this day to be over.

As she reached for the lamp, her eyes caught on a flyer hanging on her wall.

Unlike the Gloria whoad come into the club desperate for a job, or the Gloria who had fled Chicago with her boyfriend the piano-playing killer, the Gloria on this flyer was a girl Lorraine knew.

She switched off the lamp, dropping the room into shadow.

But she could still see the flyer. A blinking light illuminated the words LOST GIRL. The light blinked again, and Gloriaas bright eyes glared at Lorraine in accusation.

Lorraine rolled away, buried her head in her pillow, and released the racking sobs that had been mounting in her chest all day. But the tears werenat just about today. They were about everything. She wished she could climb into that flyer so that she and Gloria could be the good girls theyad once been. Back before Lorraine had any idea what it was like to have a thug threaten her, back when she still thought she and Gloria would be friends their entire lives.

But her tears stopped suddenly when there was a loud, menacing knock at her door.

CLARA.

Clara was nervous.

She took a sip of her coffee and frowned. This shop wasnat the cla.s.siest of joints. A single old man was working behind a smudged counter. She couldnat fault her old roommates for choosing a cheap place, but this one was just a dump.

Leelee and Coco had been her very best friends. It was living with the girls in their tiny apartment on Bank Street that had taught Clara how to really let out her wild side. The two of them knew Clara better than anyone did, even Marcus.

So why was she so worried?

Clara had run into them a few days earlier. Shead been leaving the Brooklyn Museum, about to take a stroll in Prospect Park, when shead heard two female voices call her name.

Clara frozea"shead recognize those voices anywherea"and plastered a smile on her face. Leelee and Coco looked as fashionable as ever: Leelee in a tight pink sailor dress and Coco in an embroidered white dress with a floral design picked out in lace. Unlike Claraas, her roommatesa dark bobs were perfectly maintained. Leelee had a doll-like face and wide blue eyes, while Coco was all sharp angles and mystique.

aDarling!a the girls squealed simultaneously, kissing her on both cheeks.

Clara hugged them back, shocked but genuinely glad to see them.

Leelee giggled. aClara Knowles! What are you doing kicking around here? After the wardens dragged you off, we thought they threw away the key.a Claraas roommates always referred to Claraas parents as prison wardens. Though maybe they were talking about the time shead actually been in jail.

Clara thought it best to turn the tables. aWhatever brings you to Brooklyn?a Leelee shrugged. aSomeone said this museum was nice. But itas just like any other museuma"lots of old things that weare supposed to be impressed by.a Coco asked, aBut why are you here?a Clara smiled. aItas kind of a long story.aa Coco put a hand on Claraas arm. aOf course it is, sweetheart. Weare just on our way to meet Beverly and Wendy at the Fat Black Cat. Come along and you can tell us all about it over a drink!a Leelee giggled again, even though nothing was funny. aItall be just like old times! Weall break out the champagne!a Clara remembered the Fat Black Cat well: its beat-up booths and roaring band, all buried under a constant cloud of smoke. Shead even met Harris there once or twice. The smallest part of her was curious to see whether the place had changed since shead been gone a but the new Clara didnat spend her afternoons in speakeasies.

aSorry, girls, I canat. I actually have an important meeting to get to.a Her ex-roommates narrowed their eyes. What could be more important than a good time with booze and old girlfriends?

aIt canat be that important,a Coco said.

Leelee giggled. aImportant!a she repeated.

But Clara stuck to her guns. aI really canat!a Coco gave an elegant shrug. aAll right. But we absolutely must get together soon. How about Thursday?a She grinned, catching Leeleeas eye. aThereas the sweetest coffee shop that just opened up on MacDougal called the Smoking Kettle.aa The Smoking Kettle was a fitting name for the place, Clara discovered, since the coffee tasted as if someone had left it on the burner until they d.a.m.n near burned the house down.

Bells on the door chimed as Coco and Leelee breezed in. They took off their hats and smoothed down their bobs in easy, identical movements. Leelee wore a two-tone dress in brown and red with a large bow on the shoulder. Coco was dressed more simply in a lemon day dress with orange satin details at the waist. Claraas short-sleeved floral dress was positively drab by comparison.

Leelee and Coco both bent to kiss her on each cheek. Leelee gave a happy sigh. aOh, Clara, Iam just so nostalgic right now! It makes me want to cry, boo-hoo. Weave missed you so much.a Coco nodded. aWe truly have.a aIave missed you too,a Clara said, and realized she meant it.

The girls were still standing, so Clara pointed to the two empty chairs. aWant to sit down and order some coffee?a Her friends exchanged a cryptic look. aOh G.o.d no,a Coco said, adjusting her purse strap, athe coffee here is terrible.a aWe thought wead try the back room,a Leelee said. aItas more private.a The pains Leelee was taking not to giggle were obvious. aWay more private.a Before Clara knew what was happening, Leelee and Coco had each grabbed one of her hands and pulled her to her feet, dragging her down the narrow hallway toward the menas and ladiesa rooms. Leelee pushed open a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and led the way through a tiny s.p.a.ce crowded with a large sink and racks of dirty mugs, plates, and silverware.

A black man in work clothes looked up from the dishes he was washing. aNow, where are you ladies off to?a aWeare going to see my mother at the beach,a Coco replied. aIave got to let her know that she left the oven on.a The man nodded and removed a set of keys from his pocket. He unlocked a door beside the sink, and Clara could see that it led to a dark staircase going down.

aEnjoy yourselves,a the man said as he closed the door behind them.

Walking down the steps, Clara heard the smooth sound of a saxophone improvising a solo. Light streamed in through a row of narrow windows close to the ceiling, revealing dust and scratches on the dark hardwood floor. Most of the guests at this hour were businessmen in suits, though there was one group of girls reclining in a booth and sipping gin. There was no stagea"the ba.s.s player and the saxophone player just set up next to a piano in the corner.

aThis is a speakeasy?a Clara asked, though it obviously was.

The very kind of place shead sworn to abstain from.

Coco laughed. aAs if you donat know a speakeasy when you see one.a aOr do you only recognize it from the bottom of the ladiesa room floor?a Leelee said, nudging Clara with an elbow to the ribs.

Leelee wasnat trying to be rude. It was truea"the three of them had spent practically as much time puking up all the gin theyad guzzled as they had drinking it in the first place. But how could Clara explain to Coco and Leelee that she wasnat that girl anymore?

Leelee ran an open tube of red lipstick over her rosebud lips. aItas called the Pink Potato.a Clara stopped in her tracks. aWhy didnat you tell me where we were going?a Coco pulled her by the arm. aWe wanted it to be a surprise, Clarabella! You used to love surprises.a aI used to love a lot of things that I donat like anymore,a Clara replied, putting her wide-brimmed hat back on her head. aI should go. I canat spend my time in places like this anymore. It reminds me too much ofa"a Leelee put her hand to her mouth. aOf that pig Harris, of course! Iam so sorry, we werenat even thinking.a Coco reached over and grabbed the hat off Claraas head. aPlease donat leave,a she said. aIall simply die if I have to go any longer without hearing what youave been up to.a Clara exhaled. She couldnat have expected Leelee and Coco to know not to bring her here. And she couldnat just abandon her friends because she was feeling jittery.

aAll right,a she said, taking her hat back from Coco. aOne drink.a Leelee and Coco clapped happily and slid into a booth. The waiter looked surprised when Clara only ordered water, but Leelee and Coco were polite enough not to comment.

Once the girls had their drinks, Coco leaned forward. aSo what happened between you and Harris? Everyone knows he went to Chicago to bring you back.a aIt was creepy,a Clara said. She told them the whole sordid talea"how Harris had sent her cryptic notes, how head shown up at her cousinas engagement party. But though Leelee and Coco gasped and touched her hand in sympathy at all the right points, Clara noticed their eyes wandering over to two handsome men at the bar. Nothing changes, Clara thought.

When the waiter returned, the girls laughed and ordered more drinks.

aWeare going to get sloppy!a Leelee announced.

aItas the middle of the afternoon,a Clara said.

aDown here itas always midnight,a Coco said.

Their second round arrived, and Clara began wishing shead left when she had the chance.

aSo,a Leelee said, tracing her fingertip along the top of her gla.s.s, awas it tough seeing Harris again? Sc.u.mmy or no, he is a sheik.a aIt wasnat as bad as I expected. You seeaa"Clara couldnat stop her shy smilea"aIave met someone else.a aOh, I almost forgot!a Leelee squealed. aI met someone, too. I went out on the sweetest little yacht the other day.aa After Leeleeas ten-minute story about dancing with a Valentino look-alike at a party and how he said she looked like the silent film star Louise Brooks, the conversation veered back to Marcus. Claraas old friends were full of questionsa"about what Marcus looked like, what his father did for a living, how much he was worth. Leelee and Coco squealed at the Cartier bracelet on Claraas wrist but were far less interested in the story behind it.

aWhat about the deb cousin?a Coco asked. aDid she wear those dresses with the high collars? Did she convince you to join her weekly prayer circle?a Clara gave an uneasy smile. Clara had thought Gloria was a complete square at first, too, but shead been wrong. Gloria had a shocking amount of moxie. Much more than it took these two to get drunk every night and allow rich men to take them to parties and the theater. Gloria would never fit into the tiny box Coco and Leelee were trying to put her in. So why try explaining?

aWell, her room looked like someone poured a bottle of Pepto-Bismol all over it,a Clara said. aOh, and her best friend was a real wet blanket. I think racc.o.o.ns have a better grasp on how to use eyeliner.aa From that moment, Old Clara was backa"or some shadow version of her, anyway. Clara played the role Leelee and Coco wanted her to play, feeding them snippy answers to their questions, taking shots at every single debutante who had befriended her in Chicago. No one escaped the barb of her wit, and soon her friends were red-faced with laughter. Poor Leelee could barely breathe.

Clara gave the girls a smile, but inside she felt emptier than her silver flask.

Once Leelee had finally caught her breath, she stood up. aWell, Iam off to the ladiesa before I wet myself.a aIall join you,a Coco said, scooting out of the booth. aAnd when we get back, we want to hear more about this absurd deb ball!a Clara slouched down in the booth while they were gone. She couldnat wait to get out of there and go to meet Marcus for dinner.

All through her time in Chicago, she had missed her wild New York life. But now she couldnat understand why. If this meeting with Leelee and Coco had shown her anything, it was how grateful she should be that shead found Marcus. She had received a chance at a real relationship, rather than one based on booze and pointless yarns.

Marcus loved her. He wanted to be with hera"in fact, he wanted to be with her so badly head even had his parents get her accepted into college. He wanted her to live near him instead of so far away. If anything bad could be said about Marcus, it was that he loved her too much. But that wasnat bad. It was good. It was everything shead ever wanted.

So why hadnat she jumped at his offer?

Clara noticed Leelee and Coco standing next to a man sitting on one of the wooden stools. Had they even gone to the ladiesa room?

And then she recognized the young man.

That slicked-back brown hair and oh so au courant designer suit, that insouciant slouch and tipped-back hata"it could be none other than Philip Helmsworth. Back in the old days, he had come out on the town with Clara, her roommates, and Harris Brown. Harrisas friends were no better than he wasa"the fact that Philip was married hadnat stopped him from sleeping with Coco on more than one occasion.

Clara couldnat believe that her friends were flirting with the pal of the man who had broken her heart. The man Clara had just finished telling horror stories about. She gathered her things, stood up, and headed for the stairs.

A strong hand caught her arm. aWhere are you rushing off to?a Clara turned and looked up into the striking face of a man in his early twenties. He had wavy dark brown hair and vibrant green eyes. His nose was perfectly shaped, perfectly straight, his cheeks dusted with stubble, his chin strong and square. He wore a sharply cut gray suit and a red silk tie. He was some kind of handsomea"if a girl was looking to find a handsome boy. Which she wasnat.

aI donat see how that is any of your business,a Clara said.

His grin showed off a set of gleaming, straight teeth. aI knew it was you.a aYouave mistaken me for someone else.a aNo, itas you.a He tapped the brim of her hat. aIt was hard to tell with this enormous horrid thing. Yours is the kind of face that should never be hidden under a big hat. If thatas what this is.a Clara stared at him, confused. aHave we met?a aUnfortunately not,a he replied. He extended his hand. aIam Parker Richards.a ah.e.l.lo, Parker Richards. Do you want to tell me how you know me?a He dragged a stool away from the bar and sat. aYouare Clara Knowles. Biggest cheese of the New York City flappers. Queen Sheba of the Flapper Scene. Sultana of the Sweet and Vicious. Everyone knows who you are.a Clara blushed. She thought she had spent long enough away that her reputation would have all but dissolved by now. It was distressing (and she had to admit it: a little flattering) to learn that it hadnat. Good-looking men like this one still knew who she was.

aNot anymore, Iam not,a she replied. aThat part of my life is over.a aIs it?a He pulled out the stool next to him. aHow about you park your cha.s.sis, chat with me a spell?a The old Clara would have hopped right onto the seat, if not into the manas lap. aNo, I really have to be goinga"a aJust for a minute,a Parker said with another self-a.s.sured smile. aI have a proposition for you.a aIall bet you do.a An afternoon in a speakeasy plus a man offering a apropositiona equaled trouble.

aNo, nothing like that,a Parker said. aIam one of the good guys. Promise. I have a job opportunity that Iad like to run by you.a Claraas ears perked upa"he wanted to offer her a job? Doing what? Against her better judgment, she took a seat.

aI just got a gig editing Manhattanite magazine,a he said.

aNever heard of it,a Clara said.

He chuckled. aYou will. Our debut issue just came out.a aHow convenient,a she said. Despite herself, she was impressed. How did someone so young become an editor of a magazine?

aYouare a sharp one, just like people say. Kind of like the Manhattanite itself. See, I donat want this magazine to be the same society-worshipping drivel you see everywhere else. This magazine is going to be innovative. Smart. Witty. Weare going to turn everything on its head. While every other writer gushes about Barbara Stanwyckas newest headband, my magazineas going to be digging deeper. One angle I have in mind is an expos on the flapper style.

aWhat leads these women to live and die by makeup and accessories? What separates the real flappersaa"he glanced at Claraa"afrom the shallow followers?a He cut his eyes sidelong down the bar; it took Clara a moment to realize he was looking at Coco and Leelee.

aWe need someone who already knows the underbelly of the flapper world to write smart about it. Someone like you.a Clara laughed. She couldnat help it. He wanted her to write an article?

Sure, she had always loved reading. She consumed books the way other people did water. Sherwood Anderson or F. Scott Fitzgerald, Edna Ferber or Pearl S. Buck, it rarely mattered what the book was abouta"if it was bound between covers, it would find its way into her hands. And yes, shead thought about writing for a magazine, but thinking and doing were two very different things. What if she was terrible at it?

She shook her head. aThanks, but Iam not a writer.a Parker chuckled and leaned in closer. aJust because you havenat written anything doesnat mean youare not a writer. I used to hear about you from my friends at Columbia. They always talked about your storiesa"all your wild escapades. You were always so cuttingly witty, the life of the party. All Iam asking you to do is write that stuff down so people can read it. And you can get paid for it.a aI already told youa"Iam done with that life,a Clara said.