The Songbird with Sapphire Eyes

by Anna Brentwood

  Almost sixteen, inhaling the familiar taste of the last Lucky in her deck, a faint smile played around Hannah’s lips as she listened to Sophie Tucker’s version of the ‘Saint Louis Blues’ playing on the phonograph. Ray used to roll cigarettes to save money. In her mind’s eye she saw the glint of his brown hair with its’ auburn streaks and his devilish green eyes as they shared secrets and smokes. Life had been so different then. It surprised her how much she still thought about him and maybe even missed him. Frowning, she blew out smoke in a steady stream, pushed at an errant strand of hair as she closed her eyes. Please Lord, let something good happen for me and soon.

  “Hey, I’m home,” shouted Rosie. She opened the front door like a tornado on a mission. “Has Meggie called yet?”

  “No?” As if by magic the telephone started ringing. Rosie handed it to her.

  Meg’s excited voice echoed through the static. “I have great news.”

  “Copacetic. I need some great news,” said Hannah. She glanced at Rosie and realized she knew what Meg was going to say.

  “Alec did it. He finally spoke to the big cheese, Tom Pendergast.”

  “Oh?” They never saw Meg when Alec was around. The lovers guarded their private time together. Hannah had only met Alec in person once.

  “He told him all about you and your singing and the boss wants to meet you tomorrow.”

  “T-tomorrow?” Hannah felt faint.

  Meg giggled, giving her directions to the office. “Yes, two thirty pm. You’ll be meeting directly with Tom himself. Booth, the manager of The Jefferson will be out of town so convince Tom you have what it takes and you’ll get your chance.”

  Hannah felt like screaming for joy. Aside from owning one of the best cabarets in town, Tom Pendergast was a legend. “What will I wear?”

  “I’ll help you figure out something that will dazzle him,” pledged Rosie, screaming.

  Meg sounded serious. “Tell Rosie that Booth has an eye for the ladies but razzle-dazzle won’t work with Tom. He’s conservative as hell. Wear something spiffy, but ladylike.”

  Hannah repeated what Meg said.

  Rosie grunted. “Put a little wiggle on and act admiring. Men are men, no matter.”

  Meg piped in. “Well, subtle charm doesn’t hurt, of course. And, it might not hurt to tell him how much you want this chance. My impression is that Tom’s a smart businessman so if he thinks you’ve got the goods and can make him money, he’ll take a gamble on you.”

  “Thank Alec for me and thanks so much, Meg,” said Hannah. Her hopes soared as she thought about the possibilities. And the realities. “Is he like…I mean, what will he expect,” she asked, a wealth of meaning in her voice.

  “Oh, talk is he has a temper, but his biggest vice is playing the horses. Since you are not a horse and he’s a faithful married man I doubt he’ll end up chasing you around his desk if that’s what you mean.”

  Hannah sighed, relieved. “Phew, that’s good to know.”

  “All right, who’s next?” A deep bass voice called out from behind the closed doors of the shabby, almost bare Main Street office. “Send ’em in.”

  The secretary, a weather-beaten, militarily rigid male with a large pointed nose and salty gray hair nodded at her.

  Hannah jumped off the hard wooden bench. She stood and adjusted her gloves and hat. She’d worn a conservative crème chiffon dress with attached scarf, matching hat and shoes. Taking a deep breath, she willed herself not to perspire, to ignore the nervousness that threatened to engulf her. She needed this job and this chance. She’d kept her cosmetics subtle, her hair coiled and tight beneath her hat and was wearing white gloves and sensible, low heeled shoes. Rosie had been just as nervous as she.

  This meeting signified her survival, her struggle and what just might be her last chance to do something before she ended up on charity or the streets. And, all she had to do was convince the daunting Mr. Pendergast, the most powerful man in all of Kansas City, Missouri and maybe all of Kansas entire that she, Hannah Glidden a little nobody from nowhere was just what his vastly successful, popular cabaret needed to be even better. Sure.

  She felt queasy as his secretary escorted her to the great man’s office, slamming the door behind her.

  “Howdy there young lady. C’mon in, I don’t bite. So you’re the little filly Alec’s been tellin’ me about.”

  His voice was as forceful as his presence. A larger than life man she’d only seen in grainy newsprint photos sat staring at her. He had a smile on his face and a cigar in his mouth. His desk was stacked with books and papers. He was old, a large bear of a man, wide more than tall, burly and thick. He had more hair on his eyebrows, short neck and thick hands then on his balding head. Alert, intelligent eyes followed her as she approached, smiling the smile she’d learned to summon at will no matter her inner turmoil. She all but stammered, but didn’t shake when she offered him her hand. “Mr. Pendergast. Thank you for seein’ me. I’m honored to meet you.” She took off her gloves and put them in her purse.

  His gaze went all over her. His handshake was steady and sure. It said he was a force to be reckoned with. And, his chair was impressive, a fitting throne of carved mahogany for the king of Kansas City. He motioned, indicating she should sit down.

  She complied, promptly sinking deep into the velvet fabric chair directly across from him, instantly at a height disadvantage. Looking up at him she sensed the tactic was purposeful. It made him appear larger than he was already. She smiled as amused as she was intimidated.

  He smiled back, waving his cigar, His voice boomed loud as a kettledrum. “Where ya from girlie and don’t you lie.”

  Her eyes opened wide, but she looked right into his. “Outside of Kansas City near Cherryvale. And I wouldn’t lie to you, Mr. Pendergast.”

  “Good answer. I admire guts and people who are honest. This city is fast and tough. I’ve seen my share of young, idealistic girls come here, willing to walk into the fires of hell for a chance to do whatever it was they think they want to do. Most of them fail. But then, most of them aren’t as stunning as you. Or as well connected.”

  “Why thank you, sir. And I don’t intend ta…uh…to fail.”

  He chuckled. “You got spunk girl. I like that.” He appeared thoughtful. “Near Cherryvale…farm gal?”

  “Was, but I like the city life much, much better, sir.”

  “Family?”

  “A ma and a…step-father. No brothers or sisters.”

  “Alec was spot on. You’re a looker all right.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He nodded, puffing on his cigar. “No reason to thank me. Truth is truth. One thing ya should know right off. Respectability and family mean a lot to me. I care about this town and the people in it. You might have heard things…but I assure you, I am not the devil my rivals paint me to be. Alec mentioned his Meg grew up with you. Says you sing, that you’re good and you need the work.”

  “Yes, sir, that was kind of him to say, sir.” She told him she’d sung with the choir at school, wanted to sing the blues and had worked at Donagan’s and the Fountain.

  “Contacts mean a lot to me. A man in my position relies on the loyal support of my friends and business associates.” He said he owed Alec a favor and Alec had called in that favor by asking him to meet with her. He bit out the end of his cigar and spit it into the ashtray as quick as he spit out his next question. “Ever hear of Tommy Lyman?”

  “Yes, of course,” she said. She was thankful she knew Tommy used to sing at The Jefferson because Rosie had dated him and had a signed copy of his song, ‘My Melancholy Baby’. Mr. Pendergast seemed pleased she knew of him.

  Tom sat a little straighter, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. He sighed, his eyes downcast, his tone confiding. “Wouldn’t mind a lick of brandy right about now, but these days I’m an abstinence man. Got to set an example, otherwise those damn reformers, pig headed Joe Shannon and the like are on me like fleas on a hound. Making trouble for me. Y
ou aren’t one of them abstinence people, are you?”

  She shook her head laughing. “Bee’s Knee’s, not likely since I’m aiming to work where they serve alcohol. Personally, I don’t think a drink every now and then hurts anyone.”

  Tom grunted conspiratorially. “I agree. It’s those damned Republicans and bible thumpers behind this Prohibition nonsense. Asses.”

  Hannah giggled, a little shocked by his raw language.

  “Helluva thing when a man can’t enjoy a drink in his own home, his own neighborhood. Like it or not, I’m truly afraid those righteous rascals are gonna close us all down someday and that would be terrible, girlie. Terrible.”

  Though Mr. Pendergast didn’t seem in a hurry to end their interview, Hannah was loath to leave without convincing him to give her a job. “I appreciate your meeting me like this more than I can say, sir. I know I don’t have much singing experience to recommend me, but folks say I’ve got talent and I’ve worked hard to become the best I could. I’d—

  “You have yourself a chance, girlie.”

  “Just…like that?” she stuttered.

  “Yep, just like that,” said Tom benevolently. The look of sheer joy that bloomed on her pretty face made him feel like a god. “You got ambition, I like that. And, it don’t hurt that you’re a looker too.”

  She closed her eyes and opened them. She giggled delightedly as she rubbed her hands together. “Oh merciful Lord. Thank you, Mr. Pendergast. Thank you so much. I promise you won’t be sorry.”

  “Of course, there are still some minor details to be worked out.”

  She froze, staring at him.

  “I mean, if you stink, the deal is off. But if you’re any good, we’ll come up with a fresh way to showcase your talents and you’ll sign an agreement we’ll draw up, but I don’t see any reason why we can’t get working on this as soon as possible.”

  Hannah’s happiness was palpable. “Oh thank you, sir. I have to pinch myself to make sure this isn’t all a dream. Wait until I tell my friends.”

  “Your smile is diamond dazzling.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He nodded, studying her. “With everyone running off to the Highland district to dance the black bottom if we hire two colored blues musicians they’d offset your white beauty…day, night, black, white…it just might be the ticket.” He shrugged. “Since we lost Tommy, we haven’t had an act as popular. Maybe you can bump up the action in the house.”

  “I hope so, sir. And I like your idea. I like it a lot.” She blushed, giggling when he reached over to kiss her hand. “Oh, Mr. Pendergast, how gallant you are.”

  “And how young and beautiful you are, my dear.” He let go of her hand, but held her eyes. “In the meantime, go over to The Jefferson tomorrow. Introduce yourself to Booth Baughman and Velma France. Sing for them. Booth is my manager and Velma is his assistant. She’s a real pip. Don’t let her scare you, girlie. Even Booth admits she rules the roost. I’ll tell them I’m sending you and why.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Pendergast,” effused Hannah, gazing at him adoringly.

  He jostled some papers. “Uh, Miss Glidden, Hannah. You’re not married or spoken for, I take it?”

  “No, no sir. No time for that.”

  Tom cleared his throat. The look he gave her was penetrating. “I expect my employees to act with discretion at all times no matter what.”

  “Oh, I understand sir. You don’t have to worry about me.”

  “Good, because I don’t like to stir up trouble, but somehow it finds me. I’m a family man, Hannah. As I said before, family, friends and co-workers are important to me. I like to be able to trust the people I hire. I watch out for them and they watch out for me. Do you understand?”

  “Yes…yes I do, Mr. Pendergast.”

  “Good, then you are as smart as you are beautiful,” he said, his pale blue eyes glittering appreciatively. He pulled his chair away from the desk. He asked her to come forward, to come around the desk and stand before him, a king demanding obeisance from a subject.

  Heart beating, Hannah stood, trusting his respectability and what Meg had said. She wanted to ignore the feral gleam in his eye that said otherwise. To her vast relief, he studied her where she stood, asking her to turn. Standing himself he gently tilted her face up. “Beautiful, you are exquisite, girlie.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Pendergast.” She felt silly because for a moment she’d thought…he stood, motioning her closer, whispering in her ear. His breath was as soft as his request was blunt. She blushed miserably, the smile freezing on her face.

  He continued to study her, eyebrows raised. Looking smug, power an aphrodisiac, he muttered, “Favors for favor.”

  She stammered, heart beating frantically, unable to contain her surprise. “But sir, you…said…said you were a family man.”

  His chair squeaked as he sat back down on it. “And well I am, but such an act hardly constitutes faithlessness, my dear.”

  She heard the clock ticking, saw him staring. Her mind raced, weighing her options, the need to survive, to succeed, the opportunity to sing at a respectable place, stay or go home.

  “Well, ya want the chance or not?”

  She did. She told herself this was the real world and she was a big girl now. If this is what it would take, then it was a small price to pay to sing at The Jefferson. She found herself kneeling before him, her knees touching the faded oriental carpet.

  “Ah,” he said, showing no surprise at her compliance. There was no attempt at anything too improper, no removal of her clothing, no violation of her person though his trousers loomed close to her face. Her vision was obscured by expansive pinstripe and the sound of his zipper booming in her ears. He freed himself with ease, pushing her head down to where his organ thick like him was already hard and eager for the honorarium he’d demanded.

  Favors for favor echoed like a litany in her head as she bent to the rhythm of his demand. Her future dreams and desires were as urgent as the thrusts of his throbbing phallus, silken pink steel, purple veins straining. Her eyes teared, but she couldn’t give up her dreams—wouldn’t. Gasping, choking, but willing to please, she bowed her head and caved to the inevitable. She’d already learned about the exchange of power between men and women thanks to Ray, but this time would be for herself and for her future.

  4 CHAPTER FOUR

  Hannah watched in the mirror as Rosie wove white seed pearls, crystals and feathers into her hair to match her gown. “And I thought when I aced the audition the rest would be a piece of cake.” Her heartbeat was as thunderous as the noise outside the small dressing room at the Jefferson.

  Standing back to admire her handiwork, Rosie smiled. “You got last minute jitters, baby?”

  “Maybe…yes.” Rosie highlighted her eyes with pencils, her cheekbones with shadows, tinted her brows, darkened her eyelashes and made her lips a luscious pink. She pursed them. “I feel like I’m dreamin’.”

  Rosie giggled. “I don’t blame you. It’s filling up fast out there. That Velma France is one tough cookie. She gave me the third degree before she let me in.”

  Hannah nodded. She’d quickly discovered that no one was exempt from being a foot soldier in Velma’s army. Circling her like a buzzard sizing up a free meal, Velma had instantly taken up the challenge of making her worthy of Jefferson. She’d issued commands like a general, making sure, in her words, things ‘got done right.’ “I put you and Meg on my pass list. They say I’m going to be a big success. Billed me as Kansas Cities great white blues singer. Just thinking about all the advertising placards they’ve posted makes me shaky. All those folks comin’ to hear me, to judge me. Where is Meg already?”

  Rosie patted her. “Calm down. Take a deep breath.”

  She complied, closing her eyes. Like new lead pencils and crisp paper on the first day of school, the smells of perfume, greasepaint and varnished wood floors comforted her. For five weeks now she’d practically lived here, being fitted for clothes by Velma’s private tai
lor, rehearsing with the two older, experienced musicians they’d hired to teach her the ropes, Jerome a pianist, Sam on saxophone. She’d had a crash course on how to move, breathe, project, remember lyrics, what to say, what not to say. “What if I fail?”

  “Aw, Han,” said Rosie bussing her on the cheek. “You won’t. Besides, if they didn’t think you’d bring in the dough, they wouldn’t be risking it. Pendergast is a businessman and the cabaret can’t lose with someone talented and gorgeous like you.”

  “Twenty minutes and you’re on.” Booth shouted from behind the door, his footsteps receding as Rosie helped her into her gown.

  Carefully pulling it over her head, the expensive white satin dress embraced Hannah like a glove, clinging to every curve on her slender frame.

  Rosie waved a hand over her face. “Phew, that dress ought to be outlawed.”

  Hannah walked over to check herself in the mirror. She felt awe and uncertainty. Rosie told her she looked like a bride.

  “More a sacrificial virgin. They really are playin’ up this black-white angle, Jerome and Sam and me. They decorated the stage in black and white too.”

  Rosie patted her reassuringly. “It’s classier than Electric Park where the girls stand dressed only in lights or the Chesterfield Club where they go from table to table in nothing but pointy, high heeled shoes, that’s for sure.”

  Velma peeked in and her face lit up. “You look great, kid. Oh and someone is here to see you, but make it short. You’re on in fifteen.”

  “Thanks, Velma,” said Hannah looking with longing at her cigarettes.

  “Don’t you dare, you’ll stink,” said Velma following her gaze.

  “Is the star here or passed out somewhere from nerves?” called Meg, running in to hug her. Alec stood behind Meg holding an enormous arrangement of flowers.