Chance Elson

by Ballard, Todhunter, 1903-1980

  "You get it." He was as pleased as a child. "It's coming now. You're reading me."

  She stood up and sang. Once she couldn't remember the words and filled in with something of her own. Suddenly she realized that the arrangement must have changed. They were playing behind her, following what she was singing, not the piece as it had been written.

  She had never heard anything like this. These boys were geniuses, they made up their arrangements as they went along. They never played a number exactly the same way twice, but they miraculously followed each other.

  For foiu- weeks she worked harder than she had ever worked in her life. Every minute aside from her morning program she worked with them. She felt as if she knew each

  one of them as she had never known anyone else, and they treated her exactly as if she were another member of the band.

  She opened with the Crazy Men at a small club in the Valley, and her numbers went ofiF very well. The audience liked her. Outside on the marquee she saw her name in lights for the first time.

  Two weeks later Ab Shaw summoned her to his oflBce. Afterward, looking back, Judy could not isolate the happenings of those two weeks.

  On the night of the opening Tooker drove her home in his red Cadillac. She had come to know him very thoroughly in the weeks before they had opened. She was even able to follow the strange jargon he fondly beHeved to be a form of the English language. And in that time, outside of the single kiss, he had not put a hand on her.

  But on this night, as he helped her from the car he said easily, "Come on, let's hit the sheets. My batteries need a charge."

  She thought he was joking. "Mr. Tooker, you've got the wrong girl."

  He had her arm, he swung her around to look at him. "Save the act, hun-bun. I'm a big boy."

  He was serious, and she knew an instant panic. She had never questioned her ability to stand ofiF most men, but Red was different. Red was a small boy who had never grown up and never would.

  "Don't save it, baby. It's sweeter now than it will ever be again. Let old Red show you."

  She pushed him away. She ran up the steps, glad that her two roommates were at home, glad they were there to face Red when he came barging in.

  Alone, she knew, she might have given in to him. She liked Red. Everyone liked Red.

  The next day she expected one of two things, either he would be angry or he would have forgotten it. Neither was true. "You'll get smart," he said. "It takes you time, but you get smart. Old Red is a big man in bed, a big man."

  She was embarrassed. The rest of the band were standing around. Red never tried to keep a secret from anyone.

  "You want to marry me?" She knew that he didn't want to marry her, that he prided himself on not being the marrying kind. But it didn't faze him.

  "Play your cards, baby, play them good, off the bottom of the deck. Maybe you hook old Red. No one ever hooks old Red, but catch him right, catch him hot. He ain't got much sense then."

  Even if Judy hadn't liked Red Tooker, she would have been grateful to him. Red was a shovraian. He had an unerring instinct, a feeling for what the public would enjoy. He taught her this, he taught her how to handle a song.

  "You're no torcher," he told her, "and you ain't got longhair tonsils, but you're a good mimic. I spot it the first day. Build that, baby. Ballad wailers are a dime a carload. Get a specialty, Judy Liller the clov^^ singer. See?"

  She saw. She saw a number of other things. Red Tooker needed her. There were ways she could help him without going to bed with him. He had very httle sense of time and no sense of money. Neither for that matter did most of the boys in the band.

  Judy quietly took over. She did not actually mean to. It was only chance that she was with Tooker when he cashed the band's weekly check from the club. Suddenly Tooker stopped before a pet store. There was a white parrot in the window.

  "I want that." He turned toward the door.

  Judy caught his arm. "Hey, wait a minute. The boys haven't had their full pay in two weeks. No you don't."

  He was hurt, a small boy refused permission to spend a penny on gum. Suddenly he pulled the bills from his pocket and thrust them into her hand. "You pay them." He was gone then, striding away, down the street. She did not see him again until the evening show.

  Ab Shaw's office impressed Judy. When the call had come, she had consulted with Tooker. Tooker knew the Shaw agency, but not much about agents. He had a natural aver-

  sion to agents and bookers and club-owners. He looked on them as parasites, living oflF the labor of honest men.

  "It doesn't hurt to talk to him, Red, although how he got hold of my name I don't know."

  "We're big," he said, "big in San Fernando Valley. It was bound to happen. You've got it, chick, got it. Good-by and farewell." He kissed her as if he expected never to see her again.

  Judy was thinking of the kiss as she sat waiting in Shaw's office. The inner door opened. A carefully groomed, well-dressed man appeared. He came across, pausing before Judy. "Sorry to keep you waiting. Miss Liller. I'm Ab Shaw."

  She stood up. Ab Shaw was examining her. Ab Shaw had been sizing up entertainers since his eighteenth birthday. He thought, "Cellini is right. This kid is a knockout." There was a Scandinavian quality about her beauty, like Garbo, like Bergman, a haunting quality which stayed with you even after you looked away from her.

  "Will you come in?"

  His private office was comfortable yet expensive looking. He put her into a low seat and walked aroimd her, like a stock buyer examining a prize heifer.

  "Tell me about yourself." His soft voice had a reassuring resonance.

  "There isn't much to tell."

  "Where you from?" He was wondering where Cellini had come in contact with this kid. Obviously she was young, yet she had poise; there was none of the eager gushing which he associated with young actresses.

  "Las Vegas."

  So, Cellini had seen her in Las Vegas. Maybe CeUini was teUing the truth, that she was a sister of a friend. Ab Shaw doubted it. On principle, he believed nothing Cellini said.

  "How long have you been in town?"

  "About a year, year and a half almost."

  "Agent?"

  She shook her head.

  "Experience?"

  She told him about the children's program, about singing with Tooker's band.

  "I think maybe I can do something for you." She said, "Would you mind telling me one thiing? How did you hear of me?"

  "I caught your act. It's a good novelty." She smiled faintly. "You can give Red Tooker credit for that."

  "Do you have a contract with him?" She shook her head.

  "How would you like a week's work at the Peacock?" The idea had suddenly dropped into his mind. She was from Vegas, and Cellini was backing her, and Cellini was Danzig's right-hand man.

  Her heart leaped. She remembered the night of the opening. She remembered sitting in the supper room, watching the performers on the stage, dreaming that one day, a long time ahead, she might be good enough to have such a spot.

  She thought how surprised Chance would be, and Doc and Dutch, and Joe's pride in her, and the reaction of the kids with whom she had gone to school.

  Ab was already framing his sales talk in his mind. Local girl, Vegas' own, good stuff. He was studying her again. The kid had definite possibihties. And then he heard her say, "Not without the band." "Whatr

  "I said, not without the band."

  Ab Shaw himched his shoulders. "Red Tooker's got a bad name in the business. He's not reliable." "He's rehable as long as I'm with him." "Would he sign a contract with this office?" Judy thought how much Tooker hated agents, but a chance to play the Peacock, a chance at the big-time night-club circuit. Even Red couldn't be fool enough to refuse this. "Sure he'U sign."

  "Okay, have him in the office here tomorrow morning. Ill see what I can do."

  He phoned Cellini when she left. He told Cellini what had 205

  happened. "You're good at picking them/' he said
. "That kid is a comer."

  Cellini was pleased.

  "Can you manage to book them into the Peacock?"

  CeUini thought about this very carefully. Danzig did not pay too much attention to the floor show, and the man who booked the acts owed Cellini a favor.

  "I'll call Vegas."

  He called Vegas. He set up the date. They would open at the Peacock one month from the following Friday. He called Shaw back, so Shaw was primed when Judy and Tooker showed up at his ofiice. Tooker had refused to sign imless the Peacock date was certain.

  "We're on our way, baby." It was after the evening show and the whole band was grouped around Judy. "Man, well lay 'em in the aisles, comes next monthl"

  CA^ifoten, f4

  The news that Jxjdy was to appear at the Peacock filled Chance with mixed feelings. He understood that on the nightclub circuit the Peacock ranked high, almost as high as the old New York Palace had ranked in vaudeville, and that she was appearing there after only a year and a half of work amazed him.

  Doc was pleased. He felt that he more than anyone else had recognized her abilities. "She'll knock them dead."

  "I don't like her working for Danzig."

  Doc grunted. "In show business you aren't working for one man. She's with this band, the band gets booked in, so, she comes along."

  "If Danzig makes a pass at her, I'll unscrew his head."

  Chance stood up and took a turn of the office. Business was good. The Vegas skyrocket was roaring on. New houses and courts went up overnight, and three new hotels were building out along the highway between Danzig's place and town.

  They didn't call it Highway Ninety-One any more. Someone had nicknamed it the Strip, after the Hollywood Strip along west Sunset and the name had stuck.

  Their own place was doing turn-away business. So were all the other downtown clubs. And Danzig was still being very quiet.

  But Chance kept two detectives employed. Both men worked at the Peacock, their purpose to watch Danzig and CeUini and report back to Chance.

  Doc said, "I'll call and get reservations for the show. Shall we take Joe?"

  They took Joe and he loved it. Chance didn't. He thought the act stupid and he did not like Red Tooker, and he did not like the familiar way the orchestra boys treated Judy.

  She brought them all to the restaurant on the first day they hit town. Tooker walked in wearing a purple suit.

  "Slip me the flesh. Gate." He held out his hand to Chance as they were introduced.

  Chance looked at Judy. "What's he talking about?"

  Judy laughed. "Don't mind Red. He knows no better."

  Tooker walked past Chance and headed for the nearest crap table, his boys crowding after him.

  "Gimme the dice, man, gimme the dice."

  The patrons at the table had turned to look at him. The dealer said, "Not your turn."

  "My turn, man, my turn. I'm hot, real hot." He reached out and tried to pick up the dice which the stickman held in the curve of his rake.

  The stickman rapped his fingers with the rake and Tooker yowled. The man who had been shooting and had just made his point said, "Let him have them if he's hot."

  Tooker was hot. He made five straight passes. Then he lost his pyramided bet on snake eyes.

  He moaned, burying his head. All action in the room had ceased. Chance said in an undertone to Doc, "If he carries on this way at the Peacock, Danzig will kill him."

  Judy sighed. "No one ever kills Red. He's been this way for years."

  "How do you stand him?"

  "He's fun. He's a real gone guy. Chance, real gone."

  "Now you're doing it. I thought I'd seen some screwballs out of Hollywood, but this is the topper."

  Red was back. "Gimme some dough, Judy. Gimme some dough."

  She faced him. "You promised, no gambhng. Remember?"

  "Not gambling," he said. "Real sound. Never was hotter. Gimme."

  She opened her purse and handed him a twenty. "That's aU, and don't forget. I told them at the hotel no credit, so don't try it."

  He was back at the table. He ran the twenty into three hundred dollars and lost it aU on one roll.

  "They switched dice. I saw them. They're miss-outs, miss-outs."

  Chance walked to him, and Chance's eyes were suddenly ice.

  "Cut the clowning."

  Tooker turned. There was a wisecrack on his lips. He did not utter it. Chance's expression stopped him. Chance had hold of his arm, leading him toward the dining room.

  Tooker said plaintively, "Careful of the threads, boy, the threads."

  "If you open your face again in here, I'll break it oflF and hand it to you. Shut up."

  Red Tooker shut up. It was the only time Judy had ever seen him cowed. In the cab riding back to the hotel after lunch, he was sullen.

  "Gorilla," he muttered, "gorilla. That's what he is, a gorilla."

  Judy did not know whether to be angry with him. It was very hard for her to be angry at Red. The rules of conduct which appHed to other people simply did not fit him.

  Judy was nervous when she went on that night. She hadn't been as nervous the night she first appeared with the band.

  Chance was out front. Chance and Doc and Dutch and Joe. She could see Joe's bald spot shining, his gold teeth gleaming. This was a great night for Joe. She was his baby. He felt that he and he alone had raised her. The others had paid the bills,

  but he had raised her. He started to clap his enormous hands the moment she appeared and Chance had to stop him finally after all other applause had died down.

  She sang. They had added a couple of new numbers, but mostly it was the old routine. It did not matter that there were a lot of Hollywood people in the audience who had heard them at the Valley club. The act actually was never quite the same twice.

  The audience hked it. Vegas audiences as a rule were easy to please. There was a hoHday air about the place which softened people.

  She did not see Cellini. CeUini sat at one of the side tables and he wasn't watching her. He was watching Chance. Cellini v/as very pleased with himself. Things seemed to be working out to his satisfaction. Even to himself his ultimate plan was nebulous. He only knew that somehow through this gu'l he would hurt Elson.

  Yes, Elson was in love with her. He might mask his feelings well, but this he could not hide from Cellini. Celhni studied Chance as a general might study an objective in a coming campaign. The girl was Chance's weakness, and Cellini meant to take advantage of the fact.

  He rose and slipped from the room before the show was over. He had no desire to meet Chance face to face. For that matter, he would rather not have seen Danzig.

  His life had only two purposes now, to get even with Chance Elson and to step into Danzig's shoes.

  Danzig was standing in the restaurant doorway, watching the show, and Celhni had to pass him to get out of the room. Danzig turned and walked beside him.

  "Good show."

  Celhni did not know whether Danzig was aware of his part in putting the band into the Peacock.

  "Yeah, Red usually puts on a good act."

  "That girl of Elson's is okay. She's a looker."

  Danzig turned away. Cellini watched him go. It was only a matter of time until he went entirely off tlie rails, but Celhni was impatient. He had heard nothing from the East, nothing. He knew why the big boys were hesitating. It was because of

  the enormous amount of money Danzig owed them. But even the money should not make them hold back forever.

  Maybe Danzig would hang on long enough to pay out his debts. Celhni did not like the thought. He had to get rid of Danzig, Danzig was in his way.

  Inside the restaurant, Chance was just pulling back Judy's chair. He had talked her into coming out to the ranch, staying at the ranch while she was in town.

  Judy was glad enough to come. It was a relief to get away from the band for a httle while. Chance was so utterly di£Fer-ent from Red Tooker. She didn't want him to be as wacky as Red, but if he would onl
y unbend.

  At the ranch Judy stood in the small living room, looking around with pleasure. Then she turned to Chance, who had been making drinks in the kitchen.

  "How did you like the show?"

  "It was great." Joe was beside the window. "Jeese, I never seen anything like it."

  She arched a brow at Chance. "You didn't think much of it, did you?"

  He was unhappy. "Look, kid, you've done swell, amd you'll do a lot better."

  "But you didn't like it?"

  "Well no. It didn't make much sense. Those boys of Took-er's sound more Hke a bunch of kids beating on tin pans than an orchestra."

  "They're good," she said. "Every man is very good. You have to be able to play something straight before you can louse it up."

  "Then why louse it up?"

  She thought about that. "They are expressing themselves and their contempt for formahzed pop music, ballads, blues, that kind of stufF. I suppose it's the same with a modemistic painter and conventional art."

  "You're way ahead of me."

  She knew that he would never understand. It occurred to her that despite his occupation Chance was a conventionalist, that he had made his rules and Hved by them rigidly, and that he expected others to conform to the same rules.

  For herself, she had found something she needed with the band. It gave her a sense of freedom. All her Hfe she had been seeking freedom. It explained her running away from the home, her gladness to leave here for Hollywood.

  She loved this place. She loved it more than anywhere else she had ever been, and she had had a certain freedom here, but always she had been conscious of Chance's disapproval if she got out of line in anything.

  She looked at him, feehng her pulse quicken. He always had this eflFect on her, and probably always would. But could she stand the confinement which marriage to him was bound to bring?

  Red Tooker was a free soul, and in some way he managed to transfer this freedom to her when she was with him. She had feared at first to get up on the stand, to ham the songs. Now she loved it. She was Judy Liller. It was her trademark, just as other singers had built their careers on other types of singing. Judy Liller, in lights, on the stage, forcing people to like her, to applaud. This was something Tooker understood, something Chance never would.