by Vanda
Juliana lifted her left arm so I could get at the zipper; it came down easily. “There. That’s how you do it.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Devenbach. Miss, I mean, Al, did it. I don’t know why it wouldn’t work for me.”
“Don’t worry about it, Becky,” Juliana said. “Al has more experience with zippers than you do. Ask Al to show you.” Juliana pulled the zipper back up.
Juliana was doing this on purpose. The smell of her perfume, her luscious body right there, and I had to show this twerp how to undress her.
“You must know how to do this,” I said to Becky. “You wear dresses, too.”
“It’s not the same as doing it to someone else.”
“No, it’s not, Al,” Juliana agreed. “You know that.”
“Hold it here,” I said, “so it doesn’t buckle when you pull it down with the other hand.” I pulled the zipper down, and for a second Juliana and I locked eyes. I looked away first.
“Let me try,” Becky said. I pulled the zipper up, and Becky slid it back down.
“Okay, Mr. Devenbach,” Becky announced. “It’s down.”
“At last,” Stan sighed. “Take it off her. Al, get out of there.”
“You have to do this in one movement,” Stan told Becky. “Quick. Pull the dress down to her feet, Juliana steps out, keeping up the patter. Al, you’re writing that for her, aren’t you?
“You think I can’t write my own patter?” Juliana complained.
“You have to have the second dress ready for Juliana to step into,” Stan continued. “Then pull it up her body so Juliana can put her arms in.”
I started pacing as Becky pulled Juliana’s dress down. I could’t believe she was allowing this. I was sure she was sleeping with that kid.
A crash. The screen was on top of Juliana and Juliana on top of Becky, both laughing so hard they couldn’t get up.
Stan held a hand over his eyes. “Al, could you please … up there.”
“Stan,” I said, heading toward the stage, “You can’t allow Juliana to go up on stage nearly naked with just a screen.”
“Nearly naked?” Juliana crawled out from under the screen and stood up. “What’s this?” She held her arms out to show she was wearing a full-length beige slip, slit on the side, mid-calf length.
“Oh, please, no,” Stan said, looking at her only a moment.
“Stan, can I speak with my assistant manager?”
“Yes, of course, but put something on.”
Juliana grabbed her robe lying on a chair at the back of the stage and signaled me to follow her to the alcove. “What’s the matter with you?”
Under the slip, I could see the outline of her one-piece, long line, bra-girdle combination with nylons attached. “As your manager,” I said, trying to concentrate. “I don’t think you should do this.”
“You’re not my manager. Richard is,” she said, slipping into her robe.
“And you think he’d approve of this?”
“Once we get the kinks out it’ll work fine, but you’re acting like you’re my husband, and I already have one of those. I definitely don’t need another, so stop it.”
“Are you sleeping with that girl?” I whispered.
“What girl?”
“Becky, the oh-so-sweet. Geesh, that name.”
“She’s a kid. I don’t sleep with kids.”
“I was a kid.”
“And so was I—practically—at the time. I can’t do this with you now. We have a rehearsal. The pressure of this opening is softening your brain. Be—have. We’re ready, Stan.”
I set up the screen again, but I was mad. I sat in the back, mumbling, “How dare she speak to me like I’m a child. If it hadn’t been for me …”
“Let’s slow this down,” Stan said. “If we practice each movement separately before putting it together, it’ll work.”
It finally came together, and Juliana was dressed in the second costume; it was a more glamorous black dress with a slit up to the top of her right thigh.
As we finished, the men started drifting back in from lunch. All except Johnny.
“Where’s Johnny?” Stan asked.
“Haven’t seen him,” Wallace said. “We all went for a bite at Child's, but Johnny didn’t come with us.”
“I can’t afford to lose time waiting for that prima donna. We’ll work without him. Dancers on stage.”
“We’re going to dance without music?” Spatz complained.
“What choice do we have with our piano player AWOL? Again. Juliana can go over the more complicated moves.”
Juliana was about to slip into Spatz’s arms when Johnny walked in, and we got back to a proper rehearsal.
Chapter 37
May 1950
THE DAY FOR Juliana’s opening arrived, and I hopped out of bed in time to hear the milkman outside my door, which meant I’d gotten about two hours’ sleep. This was Juliana’s big moment, the moment that could bring her everything she ever wanted, the moment I’d been dreaming about for years.
I imagined Juliana throughout the day, driving Richard nuts with her opening night anxiety. But oh, how I wished it was me she was driving nuts.
I had given Richard the task of keeping her away from newspapers. I thought it was a good way to keep him busy, and if he succeeded it would work in our favor. All the papers were filled with stories about how sex perverts and moral degenerates were weakening the country.
The Veterans of Foreign Wars blamed “homosexuals” for China becoming a communist country. It seemed there wasn’t anything we couldn’t be blamed for, but I sure didn’t want Juliana worrying about that stuff now that her big day was here. I planned on getting to the Copa early to get rid of any newspapers I found lying around, and to sit with her in her dressing room.
I spent all morning on the phone, running The Haven, setting up acts for the next few months, and making sure Juliana got extra time in the morning with the orchestra.
I had a two o’clock appointment at the hairdresser, and then I was going to dash home to put on my gown and get over to the Copa. I picked up the phone to order flowers for Juliana from Richard and me, when Virginia poked her head into the office. “Hello there.”
I’d been avoiding her for a month and a half, ever since our “incident” in the lady’s room, but now she was standing at my door with a big smile. She didn’t seem to feel the same embarrassment at seeing me that I experienced at seeing her. “Hi, I’d love to talk, but I have to make a call and then I’m dashing off to the hairdresser. Will I see you there tonight?”
“No. Not after what that woman did to Max. I am certainly not going to sit in that audience and—”
“You know what happened between Juliana and Max?” I lowered the phone back into its cradle.
“Of course. I was there.”
“You were there? Then something specific happened? Not just that Juliana chose Richard over Max to manage her?”
“Oh, that’s only something Max says to cover up. There’s more to it than that.”
“Really? Come in. Sit down. Tell me.”
“I really shouldn’t, but since it’s you.” She closed the door and sidled into the chair next to my desk. She seemed to be fluttering her eyelashes at me, but maybe that was the light hurting her eyes. “Max was in love with her,” Virginia said.
“Max likes boys.”
“True. But in her case, he made an exception. I’ve spent years trying to figure out how she became his exception. I think I know now. In her own way, she is a boy.”
“Oh, come now. Have you seen how she looks or watched the way she moves?”
“I’ve done nothing but. Yes, she’s very feminine, but so are the boys Max chooses. Look at Scott; the delicate way he uses his hands. When Juliana and Max worked together, they would get each other … how do I say this politely?”
“I think you and I have gone way beyond ‘polite.’”
She giggled. “Yes, we have, haven’t we? Well, the two of them w
ould get each other—excited. I’d be sitting right there watching the rehearsal. I went to all the rehearsals back then. I took notes for Max. He counted on me. But when the two of them got going, it was like I’d turned into a statue. They didn’t care how they acted in front of me. Touching each other. It was disgusting. As if I weren’t even there. I think she may have even …” She leaned toward me, her hand pressed to one side of her mouth as if reporting on a communist plot. “Well, this she didn’t do in front of me, thank heaven, but I think she did that thing with her mouth that low-class women do to men. The woman hasn’t a moral fiber in her whole immoral body. I’m sorry. I know you think a lot of her, so I don’t mean to criticize, but—”
“What happened?” I squinted at my watch as my time ticked away. Nine years waiting for this story was long enough.
“They couldn’t.”
“They couldn’t what?”
“They couldn’t finish. They would get excited, but there was never any culmination. Because of what they both are, I suppose.”
“How do you know this?”
“I told you. I was there.”
“Where?”
“There. Where they were.”
“What?
“I arrived at Max’s apartment in the early afternoon. It was Sunday. Back then, I would make brunch for Max and his new boyfriend. Every Sunday he had a new one. It was fun, the three of us sitting in the kitchen drinking orange juice, eating eggs almandine, Max’s favorite. It takes quite awhile to make, you know. Lots of ingredients, chopping and stirring, but I didn’t mind.”
“Maybe you should have.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. Well, this one day, I was in the kitchen pouring when I heard shouting. I naturally thought he was with one of his boys, but she was in there with him. In his bedroom,” she whispered. “The little floozy. Oh, I’m sorry, Al.”
“It’s okay. What happened?”
“They were shouting at each other. I don’t know if I can tell you what they said. I don’t use that kind of language. But they were mad at each other because—each one wasn’t doing what the other wanted.” She leaned close and whispered, “Sexually.”
“And?”
“How could she act that way? Wanting him to do things her way? I would never do that. Who cares about the sex? She had him. He loved her, and she threw it away for sex? There’s something wrong with that woman. She wasn’t even married to Richard at the time. She could’ve had Max, but instead she stomped into the living room with her robe hanging open; she was completely naked underneath.
“She grabbed her shoe from under the couch and threw it at Max. Luckily, he ducked in time. He grabbed her into his arms and threw her onto the couch. He was naked too, but I didn’t mind that. He held her arms above her head, and she shouted at him, ‘Do it! For Christsakes, do something.’ He stared at her a minute and then said, ‘I can’t,’ and marched back into his room and slammed the door. He didn’t come out for a very long time. I convinced him to give me her clothes so she could leave. I guess that’s the story.”
“And you gave her breakfast, didn’t you?”
“It would’ve gone to waste, but we didn’t talk, and she left right after.”
“They completely stopped working together because they couldn’t have sex with each other? That’s nuts.”
“No. They kept working together, but they’d get so excited around each other and there would never be a culmination, so they’d get angry and spend the rest of rehearsal yelling. It completely blocked their creativity, so finally they gave up.”
“But Max blames Richard for stealing Juliana away from him.”
“Richard came along with an offer at the right time. He promised to back Juliana’s career, to be her manager, to make things happen for her, but only if she married him. Without that, he wasn’t going to do anything for her. I think she also wanted to throw it in Max’s face that she was getting married. I was glad she was getting out of his life. I can’t understand what a smart girl like you sees in her. A man I understand. Those breasts, but you …”
“Don’t knock the power of breasts. I’m rather fond of them myself.”
“Do you like mine?”
“Uh … sure, yeah, gosh, look at the time. My appointment! I’m going to be late.” I gathered up my coat in my arms. “Why would you ask me a question like that?”
“Because I want to do it with you again,” Virginia said, blocking my way.
The phone rang. “Hold that thought. Or better still, don’t hold that thought.” I picked up the phone. “What? Oh, damn. No. Stay there. I’ll be right over.”
“What is it? Can I help you?”
“That’s sweet of you, Virginia, but no. Virginia, I want you to take this time to reflect upon the fact that you’re straight. Okay? Gotta go.”
She grabbed my arm. “Are you making light of my feelings?”
“No. I didn’t mean to do that. I’m rushed.”
“You know, I gave a very special part of myself to you that night.”
“On the lady’s room floor? Look, we’ll talk. Later. After the opening.”
I charged out the door, putting on my coat as I went. I ran all the way to the studio and tapped my foot waiting for the damn elevator. I burst into the studio. Richard stood over Johnny, who was curled up on the floor.
“I can’t do a thing with him,” Richard said, hurrying over to me, his shirt all wrinkled, no jacket, his hair flying. “Look at him. He’s completely snockered.”
I threw my coat on a chair and leaned over Johnny. “Hey, Johnny? Johnny.”
Johnny looked up at me like he wasn’t quite sure who I was. “Al? Hi. I’m not so bad,” he slurred. “I can play blin—blind, uh, that thing that goes over your eyes.” He pushed himself up, but his legs folded under him, and he fell backward the way only a drunk can.
“Okay, think, think,” I told myself, pacing. “Where’s Stan?” I asked Richard.
“Stan? Stan?” Richard looked at me vaguely.
“Stan, you idiot. The director.”
“He quit.”
“What?
“He walked out last night. Johnny’s been drinking off and on for the last couple of days. Stan said he couldn’t put his name on this disaster. He has a reputation.”
“And a contract!” With an escape clause, I remembered. Since Juliana was not well-known, giving him that was the only way I could get him. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Well, you’ve done so much. I thought I could handle this myself. I mean, we’re finished rehearsing. I never expected Johnny to do this and for Stan to—”
“Always expect the unexpected.” I wasn’t sure where that came from, but I suspected it was Max from one of our many discussions. “You should’ve told me the very first time Johnny got drunk. Stan should’ve gotten a replacement.”
“But it’s Johnny’s music, and Juliana feels safe with him. They’ve known each other for—”
“A phone. I need a phone.”
“Over here.” He directed me to a small office near the studio. “Work on sobering him up, in case we’re stuck. Send out for buckets of coffee. Juliana. Does she know about this yet?”
“No. She’s home resting.”
“Good. Make sure she doesn’t hear a word about it until it’s fixed. Home? By herself? That’s not good.”
“She’s not alone. Her friend Margaritte is with her.”
“Margaritte?”
“You met her at our New Year’s Party in ’44. She and Juliana sang opera together as children in Italy. They’re close friends.”
I knew exactly who Margaritte was, and I could not have that thought right then. “Go tend to Johnny.” I dialed quickly. “Is Max there? Oh, no. When will he be in? No, he can’t call me back. I don’t know where I’ll be. Tell him I’m looking for him.”
I ran out to Richard, who was yelling at Johnny. “Richard, you have contacts. Would any of them know a good accompanist, or musical director, or both?�
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“My contacts are in banking, publishing, and public relations, but I have met a few Broadway people at some ritzy parties.”
“Call them. We’re going to turn this around. I have to check my wheeldex.”
I ran from the studio into the street and grabbed a cab to the Mt. Olympus. I dashed inside hoping Max had shown up, but he still wasn’t there. I settled myself behind Max’s desk and started calling from his wheeldex, since it had more names than mine. I rescheduled my appointment for my hair for 4 p.m.—not an easy thing to do at Pierre’s. It required serious groveling.
I called one professional accompanist after another using Max’s name. Everyone on Max’s A-list was already committed to gigs around the city and the country. They told me to keep them in mind for another time; they’d love to work with Juliana. I was building my connections in the business, which would be terrific for the future, but not so hot for my immediate need. I couldn’t go into Max’s B-list. Juliana would have a fit.
This was the biggest day of our lives, and it was about to go splat in our faces. No! I would not let that happen. Juliana was going to be a star. Tonight! I’ll see to that. Where the hell was Max?
Scott walked in. “Want to get a cup of coffee?” he asked.
“Are you certifiable?” I screamed at him. Scott backed up. “Oh, Scott, I’m sorry. Things are such a mess. Do you know where Max is?”
“No. We haven’t spoken for a few days.”
“Coffee! That’s it!”
“You do want coffee?”
“No. That boy in the lounge. He was one-helluva piano player. Bring him here.”
“Why would he come here with me?”
“Because you’re gonna offer him a job at the Copa, and if you have to, you’re gonna flirt with him.”
“I can’t flirt. The Bible—”
“Says nothing about flirting. I know. I read it twice. Now, hurry up. He needs to learn the music for tonight.”
“Uh.” Scott stood there, looking down at the rug.
“Scott? This is an emergency.”
“I—had a piano scholarship to Julliard,” he whispered. “I only went for a year, but I could coach the boy if you like.”