Ingenue Part 5

aBut thatas why youare perfect for this!a he replied. aWe donat want someone whoas dazzled by the glitz and glamour. We want someone whoas seen the dark side and has the cleverness to tell our readers all about it. Youall go to the parties, sure, but youall be there as a reporter, ready to jot down every biting detail once you get home.a She felt a slight smile cross her lips. aYou think Iad betray my friends so easily? I think youare underestimating my integrity, Mr. Richards.a aAnd I think youare underestimating your own talent,a he shot back. He slid a glossy magazine out of his briefcase. The Manhattanite was written in an elegant script at the top. On the cover, a beautiful model with a dark bob and a short sheath dress shot a come-hither glance over her shoulder. Her smile was close-lipped and mischievous.

Parker tucked a business card into the magazine and handed it to Clara. aGive this a read and get back to me.a He put on his gray derby and stepped close, whispering into her ear, aI bet youall be a better writer than anyone in there.a Clara nodded, a little shaken by his nearness. aIall think about it.a He tipped his hat in her direction. And he was gone.

It was an impossible proposition. This gig would be the exact opposite of what shead promised herself she would do. It would force her to submerge herself in the very parties and people shead sworn to leave behind.

There was no way she could do it. And yet a Writing for the magazine, Clara wouldnat just be the ex-flapper, or the fake country belle, or Marcus Eastmanas girlfriend. She would be a writer. A dream shead never thought would actually come true.

aExcuse me,a she called to the bartender. aCould I have a whiskey on the rocks?a She shouldnat be drinking, but if she was going to settle back into the late-night world of flappers and speakeasiesa"a sleek machine that ran on gin and vodkaa"then she was going to need some practice.

VERA.

Vera stood near the clock in Grand Central Station and waited.

It had been nearly a week since shead followed Gloria from the post office and intervened between her and the mysterious Sungla.s.ses Woman. Shead missed a golden opportunity to follow Gloria. Shead lost her best chance of finding out where Jerome was living. Of warning him. Of saving him.

Shead mailed the note to Jerome, and here she wasa"waitinga"but head yet to show up. Had he not received the note, or did he not want to see her?

She snapped out of her reverie when Evan stepped up beside her. aVera! Youall never guess what happeneda"I landed a gig!a He let out a happy laugh. aA buddy back in Chicago told me to try the old Club De Luxe on a Hundred and Forty-Second. Theyave been searching nonstop for new talent since they relaunched as the Cotton Club last year. Itas the real McCoy, with cats like Duke Ellington and Bessie Smith playing every weekend. I auditioned and a guy called Big Frenchy hired me on the spot.a Evan pulled some folded bills out of his pocket. It was more than what theyad brought with them. aHe even gave me an advance so we can get rooms for each of us in a boardinghouse,a he said. aIsnat that great?a aOf course it is,a Vera said. After a week of sleeping on the couches of friends-of-friends-of-friends, her very own room sounded like heaven. aA club like thata"that will be so amazing for your career.a Evan could clearly tell something was wrong. aNo sign of Jerome? Thereas time. Think about ita"weave barely been here a week and youave already seen Gloria. Jerome canat be far away. Youave got to relax.a Evan thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. aIave got it. Weall walk over to Central Park. Get your mind off things.a aYou know where that is?a Vera asked.

aSurea"itas in the name. Itas gotta be central, donat it?a Vera didnat know what to make of what she was feeling.

They walked hand in hand, and with every pa.s.sing second, pleasant shocks ran through her fingers and up her arm. Even if Evan just thought he was being a good friend, it was nice to pretend that he might be something more.

As they walked, they pa.s.sed a few families, mostly white. Everyone was in a cheerful mood, and one little girl with blond pigtails hopped up and down as she asked if she could feed the ducks. To everyone else in Manhattan, Vera supposed, it was just a beautiful summer afternoon. Right before they reached the park, Evan stopped outside a grocery store.

aI need to pop in here for a second,a he said. He came out fifteen minutes later with a large bag.

Vera looked at the sack. aSo whatad you get?a aJust some odds and ends,a he said with a smile.

Theyad walked only a little farther when he stopped outside another market. He emerged with another, smaller sack and again refused to tell her what head bought.

Across the street from the park, he irritatingly ducked into yet another store. When he walked out with yet another sack, Vera said, aOkay, itas not funny anymore. What have you got in the sacks?a aStuff,a he said. aDunno when you became so nosy.a Vera rolled her eyes and crossed the street with him, and they entered the park.

Someone had taken a vast slice of everything Vera loved about the outdoors and dropped it smack in the middle of this hard, gray metropolis. Rolling oceans of green gra.s.s stretched as far as she could see, and everywhere she looked was some new lovely thinga"wide pools of water, towering trees full of chirping birds, wooden gazebos laced with wisteria vinesa"the park seemed to go on and on. aItas so beautiful,a she said quietly.

aThat it is,a Evan agreed.

A group of teenagers on s.h.i.+ning bicycles raced past, and Evan and Vera followed them deeper into the park. People seemed to be everywhere: sitting on benches or lying on blankets or walking hand in hand. Some young men were tossing a football back and forth in a broad, gra.s.sy field.

Evan stopped beside a large cypress tree and set the sacks on the ground. aSee, now, I think this is a fine spot for a picnic.a From one sack he pulled a checkered blanket and spread it on the gra.s.s, and started laying out the food head procured: a loaf of bread, jars of peanut b.u.t.ter and strawberry jelly, a tin of cookies. The last sack contained a bottle of soda water and some cheap silverware and cups.

aI know itas sandwiches again, but Iam hoping the combination of the natural atmosphere and the extreme adorableness of the gesture willa"a Vera cut him off by enveloping him in a hug. She squeezed him so tight he coughed.

aItas not that nice a picnic!a aThis is amazing, thank you,a she said softly into his ear. Shead had a few beaux since she started working at the Green Mill, but no boy had ever done anything like this for her. aThough it makes it slightly less adorable when you point out its adorableness before I do.a Evan laughed and straightened his bow tie. The two of them sat down and began making their late lunch or very early dinner.

Once they were both munching on peanut b.u.t.ter and jelly sandwiches, Vera leaned back and grinned. aSo, Evan, is this how you impress all your girls? By showing them your master-chef sandwich-making skills?a Evan wiped the peanut b.u.t.ter off his hands with a napkin. aWho are these girls youare talkina about? Not that Iad mind having so many that you had to refer to them as all my girls.a She smirked. aReally, though. You mustave had girlfriends at some point.a Back before shead dropped out of school, shead known plenty of good-looking boys. Girls followed them around and drew hearts around their initials in school-books. And those boys hadnat been anywhere near as talented or handsome as Evan.

He shook his head. aNot really. I liked a dame or two back in my time, but I was always more focused on my music.a aYou and Jerome both,a Vera said. She took a sip of soda water. aHe was always raising h.e.l.l with my parents, telling them he wanted to be like Jelly Roll Morton rather than work in a grocery store like our daddy.a aYeah, my mom wasnat too enthusiastic, either, after Dad pa.s.sed on. I always felt kinda sorry for my brother, Rodney. There he was, going to school and getting good grades, and there I was, sneaking out at night to play gigs and getting all the attention.a Evan peered at her. aDid you ever feel like that with Jerome?a Had she?

Her brother had always been the stara"that much was clear. But Vera had never resented him for it. She loved him. But maybe there was a tiny bit of resentment buried somewhere deep underneath her skin. Was that what had led her to betray Jerome and Gloria?

aJerome was a piano prodigy,a she finally said. aHeall always be the one in the spotlight. Even now. Iam putting my entire life on hold for my big brother.a She frowned as she realized how awful that sounded. aUgh, Iam a terrible person.a Evan reached over to catch her hand in his. aNo, youare not. What youare doing is pretty d.a.m.n selfless, if you ask me.a Vera looked down at Evanas fingers entwined with hers. As they sat in this beautiful park with the wind blowing through the tree branches overhead, his hand felt a alive. Vera rubbed her thumb in small circles on his palm. aSo, you said you havenat been out with too many girls. Would you consider this a date?a In the slightly confusing silence that followed, she felt her heart beating just a little bit faster than it had all day.

aNo, I wouldnat.a Evan laughed as her shoulders slumped. aBut I wouldnat say itas not a date, either.a She didnat know what to say to that. aWell, itas the best not-a-date Iave ever been on.a Evan took a bite of his sandwich. aMe too, Miss Johnson. Me too.a GLORIA.

St. Louis woman with her diamond rings

Pulls that man round by her ap.r.o.n strings.

Tawerenat for powder and for store-bought hair, The man I love wouldnat go nowhere.

Gloria blinked in surprise when Jerome stopped playing. aWhatas wrong?a she asked.

Sheet music marked up with notes in both Gloriaas and Jeromeas handwriting was strewn all over the piano and kitchen table. Theyad spent the morning trying to figure out what she would sing for her debut at the Opera House. aSt. Louis Bluesa was one of her first choices.

aDonat be afraid to let yourself go,a Jerome said. aThis whole song is a buildup of emotion. You start out just moaning about being sad, but by verse three, youare finally able to belt out everything you feel. Understand?a Gloria nodded. Practicing with Jerome had come a long way since the time when head explained to her how to breathe with her diaphragm in the dingy bas.e.m.e.nt piano room at the Green Mill. These days he was teaching her how to maintain volume and control her phrasing. And he was teaching her about nuance, about interpretation: how to convince the audience to feel the songs as though she were singing just for them.

There was still so much to learn. How could she ever hope to make it as a professional singer? But then Jerome would stop, take her in his lithe piano playeras arms, and whisper that anybody who didnat think they could always learn something new was just sillya"everyone could get better and better.

aEven you?a Gloria would ask, resting her head on his shoulder.

aEspecially me,a Jerome would say.

Now he began again to play the short, woeful introduction. aLetas start from the top.a Gloria straightened up, breathed deeply, and began to sing: I hate to see the evening sun go down.

I hate to see the evening sun go down.

aCause my baby, he done left this town.

Jerome banged the keys hard and stopped playing. aYou need to get out of your head.a He pointed to the area a few inches south of his throat. aThis is where the song needs to come from. Letas try again.a She got only a little further before Jerome slammed the keys again. aYouare using too much vibrato,a he said, sounding annoyed. He rubbed his temples with his fingers. aYouare not singing in a d.a.m.n school recital.a She narrowed her eyes. aMarion Harris uses plenty of vibrato when she sings it.a He gave a mean laugh. aJust acause you got yourself a gig doesnat make you Marion Harris, darlina.a He shuffled through the pages of music strewn on top of the piano, then handed a few to her. aThis might be more your speed.a Gloria read the t.i.tle: aSecond Hand Rose.a f.a.n.n.y Brice had sung it in the Ziegfeld Follies and it had been a huge hit. Gloria hated the song. It was a cutesy tune, annoying, whinya"and about as s.e.xy as her mother in her flannel nightgown. And singing it required hardly any real skill. She wanted songs that would show her off, that would make people at the Opera House take her seriously. Shead thought Jerome wanted that, too.

aI think aSecond Hand Rosea is a little boring,a she replied in a measured tone.

Jerome looked away. aIf you donat want boring, then stop singing like that.a Gloria slapped the sheet music down. aOkay, thatas it! What is the matter with you?a Jerome had always been a strict but straightforward coach, never snide. aThis canat just be about my singing.a Jerome stared ahead in silence for a moment, then turned to look at her. aAw, honey,a he said, reaching up to stroke her cheek.

But Gloria ducked away. aSeriously. Whatas wrong?a He moved over to one side of the bench, patting the spot next to him. Gloria sat.

Gone was Jeromeas scowla"now he just looked sad and tired. aGlo,a he began, ayou know Iam proud of you for getting this gig and all. I really am. But it hurts, having you pay the bills, having you support me like this.a aBecause you think you should be supporting me,a Gloria replied. aHow many times do I have to tell you? That doesnat matter to me.a aWell, it matters to me,a he said quietly. aHow do you think it feels, you bringing home cash when all I do is sit around all day and nick some food when I can?a Gloria clasped his hand in hers. aYouall find something soon,a she said. aMe making the money, thatas just temporary.a aEven if I do, itall be a long time before Iall be able to afford to marry you.a Marriage.

Jerome had told her before they ran away from Chicago that he wanted to marry her, but they hadnat discussed it since. They had enough problems to deal with in the presenta"the future could wait. aSo? Itas not like weare in any rush.a Jerome chuckled, but there was a hollow note to his laugh. aI donat know why Iam even worrying whether or not we could ever afford to get married. Who would marry us, Gloria? Theyad chase us down with torches and pitchforks first.a He touched a black key on the piano, the sound ringing through the heavy silence in the apartment. aIam this.a Then he moved his finger a little to the right and played a white key. aAnd youare this. n.o.body minds seeing all this black and white together on a keyboard, but thatas not how it is out in the world.a This wasnat exactly news. Gloria forced a smile. aWhat good is marriage, anyway? What does it mean to anyone?a aIt means not living in sin, Gloria.a aMy father left his marriage the minute he found a younger woman he liked better. Harris Brown was going to marry some girl, but that didnat stop him from carrying on with Clara and almost ruining her life. All that pressure to get married had me ready to shackle myself to Bastian!a She took both of Jeromeas hands in hers. aMarriage doesnat prove anything. Itas love that counts, and weave got more than enough of that.a Jerome looked down at their intertwined hands. aWell, I love you, but Iad also love to marry you. If that makes me a fool, then so be it.a aJerome aa Gloria trailed off, unsure of what to say.

She moved closer and kissed him on the lips. His arms wound themselves around her, and he kissed her back. Hard. As he wove his fingers through her hair, a single tear rolled down her cheek. She hoped he wouldnat notice.

The truth of it was, she didnat think Jerome was a fool at all. She wanted to marry him, too. She wanted a house and children with him. Their strange living arrangements were all right for right now, but a year from now, would she still be stuck climbing through a fence to get to her apartment? In three years? A decade? Would their love ever be acceptable?

Jerome leaned his forehead against Gloriaas. Then he stood abruptly and shuffled the sheet music into a tidy stack. He slid the pages into his worn-out brown briefcase.

Gloria watched, confused. aWhat are you doing?a Jerome took his straw hat off a hook on the wall. aI need to take a walk, get some fresh air.a He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. aSorry for being a jerk before.a Without looking back, he walked out and shut the door.

This was the closest she and Jerome had come to having a fight since theyad arrived in New York. Theyad been so focused on trying to survive each day, they hadnat had time to argue about the future. But he was right: What could they do when no one out in the world would ever accept them as a couple?

What would happen if Gloria called the whole thing offa"if she crawled back to her mother in Chicago?

Beatrice Carmody would be angry, but Gloria knew she would be happy to see her daughter. Her mother was probably the one behind all those LOST GIRL flyers, after all. Her mother would hug her and scold her and hug her some more. Then Claudine would make Gloria hot tea with lemon, Gloria would take a bath with lavender bath salts, and she would sink into her pink bed and sleep for days. She would miss Jerome, of course, but he would understand. They would be better offa"free to find people of their own races to love.

No! She could never just abandon Jerome like that. And even if she could, Jerome wasnat the only reason she couldnat return to Chicago. There was a darker reason, and that reason had had a namea"until Gloria had snuffed out his life: Tony.

On the few occasions when she allowed herself to remember the cherry-red blood flowing from his body, smoke rising from the hot pistol at her feet into the winter air, she also remembered that she could never go back to her old life. That life had died with Tony in the pearl-white snow.

She sat down at the kitchen table and shuffled through the newspapers piled there, her fingers pausing on a recent Chicago Tribune. Back when theyad had money, she had extravagantly bought a yearas subscription by mail. It helped the homesickness to know what all her old socialite friends were up to in her absence.

She started in the society pages. Witless Ginnie Bitman was engaged to Wallace Worthington II. Boring. Then a familiar image caught her eye: a small photograph of Bastian, standing in a light-colored suit against a dark background. His hair was slicked back and his mustache was perfectly trimmed. Gloria had almost forgotten how handsome he was.

She let out a gasp at the headline next to the photo: KILLER OF ARISTOCRAT STILL ON THE LOOSE.

The search for the murderer of Sebastian Grey III, 23, continues. The deceased was a banker and a well-loved stalwart on the Chicago social scene. Greyas body was found on a dock at the Chicago Harbor early Sunday morning. Police have no leads as of yet, but friends remain hopeful.

Gloria took several deep breaths. Bastian had been murdered?

She had grown to hate Bastian while he was still alive. Head never loved hera"he had only wanted to marry her for her fatheras steel fortune. And Bastian had been behind Carlitoas attempt on Jeromeas life. Bastian was the reason everything had gone so wrong. The reason Gloria could never go home again.

Staring at Bastianas photograph, the man shead once thought she loveda"who looked the part of a proper husband, crisp and dapper and handsome and white, who impressed her parents and knew the right things to say at parties, whoad gone to college and liked holding her hand when they took walks in the park but hadnat ever really loved hera"Gloria wondered what would have happened if shead never decided to run away with Jerome. If she had walked away from the Green Mill and everything that went with it to marry Bastian.

If she had, Tony would still be alive. Jerome would be still playing at the Green Mill. Gloria would have been away from all that, living in a beautiful house with Bastian and all the money either of them could ask for. They wouldnat have been happy, but at least theyad have been on the right side of the law. And alive.

If Bastian had been killed, it was because of the people he ran with. The people who were hunting Gloria and Jerome. And if they had come for Bastian, they might come for her. For heavenas sake, what was she doing here in this apartment, a sitting duck? She was just a schoolgirl, after alla"lost and confused and scared and barely eighteen.

For the first time in a long while, Gloria wished she still had Bastianas pistol.

She was going to need a gun.

LORRAINE.

It had been a Bad Night.

Lorraine hadnat slept very well or for very long and was planning to stop by Juliaas Caf and have a long, lazy breakfast before she went to work. After the day shead had yesterday, she was pretty sure shead earned it. Besides, she needed to catch up on her Vogue.

She started when she heard a light tapping on the door.

Another knock? Another mystery caller? Lorraine ran her hand over her bob and straightened the sailor collar on her burgundy day dress. It was always necessary to look gooda"one never knew when a gorgeous young man might come tip-tapping on oneas apartment door.

Lorraine smiled and opened the door. ah.e.l.lo there,a she said. aWhat brings you back so soon?a The young manas chestnut-brown eyes glittered at her from under his dark hair. aI just wanted to apologize for disturbing you last night. It was awfully late to come asking a stranger for a screwdriver. But that leaky sink wouldave kept me up all night.a aDonat be silly,a Lorraine said quickly. aI was happy to help! No one likes a drip.a Head been the only bright spot last night. Allowing her new neighbor to think head woken her was a far better excuse for her disheveled appearance than admitting that shead been crying her eyes out.

aSo you need a screwdriver?a shead asked, wondering if she had any orange juice and vodka and whether suggesting a drink to this tall, dark stranger would look desperate or oh so cosmopolitan. aThatas made with a?a aItas a tool with a flat blade used for tightening screws,a head said with a dazzling smile. aIave got to fix up the tap before it washes everything in my apartment into the street.a aRight!a she said. aDaddy sent me a tool kit when I moved here. Now to find it.a The young manas friendly manner and easy smile were just what Lorraine needed. Theyad only spoken for a minute or two before she found the tool kit beneath a teetering pile of hatboxes shead built into a pyramid in the hall closet. She handed over the screwdriver and said, aAny time you need anything, just say the word.a aThanks,a he said. And then he paused. aWhat word should I say, exactly?a She thought hard. aI donat know.a And then shead shut the door in his face. Without even getting his name. So clumsy! But it didnat matter: She knew he would be coming back for more.

Besides being in his early twenties, he was absolutely gorgeous. With his tanned skin and chiseled features, he was the opposite of a soft, boring prep-school boy like Marcus Eastman. Lorraine had wanted to jump into his arms the moment she saw him. She hadnat, though. Restraint was key. Anyhow, there was always time for a quality smooch session once the important questions had been asked, such as aWhatas your name?a And aDo you drink?a And here it was the next morning, and he was back. Thank G.o.d shead had the wherewithal to put on a decent outfit and some makeup. aWould you like to come in?a He nodded and followed her inside. He removed his newsboy cap and held it in his hands. In his gray vest and plain white s.h.i.+rt, he looked simple yet elegant. He had taste, and that was important. Sort of.

aIam Hank,a he said, breaking the silence.

aThatas so a masculine,a Lorraine said, fanning herself with her hand.

He chuckled. aWell, Henry, really, but everyone calls me Hank.a aWhoas everyone? Your dozens of girlfriends?a aNaw,a he said, shaking his head. aIam single. I guess just my friends. My mom. You knowa"the important people.a The awkward silence began to take root again.

aAnd youare Lorraine,a he continued.

Had she told him her name? She didnat remember that, though she might have talked about herself in the third persona"she was doing that way too much lately. aLorraine would never stand for that!a and aLorraine will have something to say about that!a and so ona"Spark was always making fun of her for it.

aWould you like some a coffee or something?a she asked, hoping she had coffee.

aThat would be great, actually,a he said, and sat down on the sofa.

There was a bag of ground coffee in the icebox. As she spooned it into the percolator and put it on the stove, she hoped the resulting brew would turn out all right.

aBe right back!a she called, scurrying to her bedroom to check her appearance in the full-length mirror. She freshened up her mascara. She bit her lips and pinched her cheeks for added color. There, that was perfect. She looked good. Ish. Good-ish. It was morning, after all.

A few minutes later, she rejoined Hank with two cups of hot coffee.

She sat next to him on the sofa, though not too close. She didnat want him to think she was too much of a roundheel. aSo, Hank, what do you do when youare not fixing leaky faucets?a Hank took a sip, then set the cup on the coffee table. aNothing as of yet. I just moved here from Los Angeles.a Lorraine set her cup down, too. The coffee didnat taste so great. aOh, California! Iave always wanted to visit. Ever meet any movie stars?a aI thought I saw Norma Talmadge in a coffee shop once.a aSmilina Through is my favorite movie!a Lorraine exclaimed. Shead seen the film the year before with Gloria, and it had had her in tears by the end. aItas so romantic.a She touched his arm lightly. aSo what did you do for a living out there in Los Angeles?a Hank stirred his coffee. aOh, you know, a little of this, a little of that.a He met her eyes. aWhat do you do, Lorraine?a Lorraine wasnat allowed to talk about her job at the Opera House, of course. Puccini and Carlito insisted she be adiscreet.a But what was discreet for a nun, say, was different for a flappera"how discreet did she need to be, really? Hank was being so evasive, she had to wonder whether he did something similar for a living. She made a quick decision.

She leaned back against the purple sofa cus.h.i.+on. aTell you what. Iall tell you about my job if you tell me about yours.a Hank gave her an apprehensive look. aAll right. Iam outta work now, but the truth is a Iam a bartender. Thatas not news I really like to broadcast.a aI can get you a job!a Lorraine said with a little clap of her hands. She could help this beautiful man and have an excuse to spend tons of time with him. It was just too exciting. aI work at this sw.a.n.ky new joint called the Opera House, and we just fireda"misplaceda"lost our bartender.a Hank c.o.c.ked his head in surprise. aWell, now. Thereas some good timing.a Suddenly Lorraine remembered shead sworn off bartenders. Oh well. What fun were rules if she didnat give herself permission to break them every once in a while?

Note to self, Lorraine thought. Get rid of current bartender. p.r.o.nto.

Lorraine took a deep breath as she stepped down the spiral staircase. Shead never fired anyone before. But it couldnat be too hard. It was good luck that Cecil wasnat working tonight. She wasnat sure she had the heart to kick him out to make room for Hank.

Instead, the bartender who greeted her when she got downstairs was Roderick, an older man with frizzy gray hair and fuzzy gray eyes. He was actually pretty good at his job, but a aHowas it going, Raine?a Roderick asked as Lorraine approached. aFancy a drop?a She shook her head. aItas not going too well, Rod. Iam sorry, but weave got to let you go.a aExcuse me?a It was a bit much to hope he would just accept what she said and walk out the door. aRod, you heard me. I donat want to get into all the messy details. Now scram.a Rod set the bottles down and walked out from behind the bar. He pointed at Lorraine, his finger only inches from her face. aNow, you listen here, missy. What kind of authority have you got to fire me without even tellina me why?a aYou broke that bottle of gin last week.a Lorraine took a step back.

aNo, customers broke that bottle and I gashed my arm on broken gla.s.s cleaning up after them.a aThat was clumsy of you. We canat have you bleeding all over our customers.a aI got shoved by that crowd of drunks!a aAnd you complain too much.a He raised his bushy eyebrows. aIam complaining because youare firing me for no d.a.m.n reason! I got a wife to support, anda"a aOkay, fine. You can stay and push a broom around or something. And be careful with broken gla.s.s. Use a dustpan.a aIs this a joke?a Rod looked around as though there might be someone else running the show. Lorraine hated it when her employees did that.

aPush a broom? Iam an old man, Raine. That ainat my job. And the tips! I live off those tips!a She shrugged. aNot anymore, you donat. Itas either Broom Boy or no job at alla"your pick.a He met her gaze stubbornly for a few moments, then scowled and walked in the direction of the broom closet. She leaned her hand against the bar and exhaled. There, that hadnat been so terrible, had it?

Then she noticed Jimmy walking toward her.

He wiped off his brow the sweat caused by whatever work head been doing upstairs. aHi there, Lorraine.a He noticed Rod sweeping the floor and muttering under his breath. aWhatas Rod doing with that broom?a aNot your problem,a Lorraine replied. aWhatas up?a Jimmy handed her a small white envelope. aThis came in from Western Union earlier.a Lorraine felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. Only one person sent her telegrams. aThanks, Jimmy.a She ripped open the envelope.

ABOUT TIME YOU FOUND BIRD. STOP. JOB ONLY HALF DONE. STOP. NOW YOU NEED TO FIND BIRDaS MATE. STOP. GET HIM AND YOU GET YOUR REWARD. STOP.

She read the telegram a few times, then folded it and slipped it into her purse. The odds of Jeromeas falling for an oddly specific ad in the paper were slim. WANTED: BLACK MALE PIANIST TO PERFORM WITH REDHEADED FEMALE SINGER WITH WHOM HE IS ALSO LIVING IN SIN. No way.

But once Lorraine reeled Jerome in, shead be done. Shead have her revenge on Gloria and then shead prance off to school, a little extra spending money in her clutch to burn on nights out with her Barnard cla.s.smates.