Absentmindedly she opened her mouth and began singing one of the old tunes her mother always hummed as she worked:
Go down, Moses.
Way down in Egypt land.
Tell old, Pharaoh,
Let my people go.
The slow, cool notes soothed her and soon she felt like she was back on the plantation, letting Ma brush her hair while Pa fiddled on the banjo. She could almost smell the grass and feel Ma’s cool breath on her shoulder. As if they’d never met Mr. Sims . . . as if they’d never died.
“Your hair is sure straight.” Sally’s words shot through Jada’s memories. Jada dropped the comb and spun around to face the boardinghouse servant who stood in the doorway with her hip jutted out to one side.
“Don’t you knock?” she exclaimed. She felt as if she’d been exposed somehow.
“I did knock, you just didn’t hear me with all your singing. You’ve got a great voice.” Sally shrugged as she sat on the bed and crossed her arms. “How’d you get your hair so straight? You use one of those fancy creams?”
Jada picked the comb up off the floor with a shaky hand. “It’s always been this way,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. She should have kept her hair pulled back. Something told her Sally wouldn’t leave the topic there.
“My hair don’t do that—no matter what I do.” Sally gestured to her hair. Despite being covered with a bonnet, there were frizzy sections that had escaped and gave her a slightly crazed look.
Jada turned back to the mirror and pulled her hair back into a braid. Sally moved from the bed and leaned over Jada’s shoulder, her face appearing in the mirror. Sally’s eyes were moving all over her face as if inspecting a dog.
“Where I come from its rude to pry into other people’s affairs,” Jada said, sitting up as straight as possible. She prayed the strange girl would just go away.
“Oh, please. Get off your high horse. Think you’re the only mixed girl in New York? There are so many inbred families, I’m surprised we aren’t all colored.” Sally took a few steps toward Jada, as if daring her to tell the truth.
“What?” Jada asked, quickly pinning her hair up against her scalp. Out of sight, out of Sally’s mind, she hoped. Mixed girl? She opened her mouth to correct her when Sally continued.
“There’s this woman I used to run errands for, a Miz Walker. She’s made makeup and hair stuff for us colored women.” Sally came over to Jada and pulled her braid off her back, fingering it slowly. “Supposed to make us look lighter or something. ’Course I don’t see how that’s for us, I look great. Anyways, I hear she’s looking for a new face for ads and whatnot. Hair and skin as white as yours . . . you should look her up.”
Jada wasn’t sure if Sally had just paid her a compliment or an insult. “I don’t think that is for me,” she said, hoping to put an end to the conversation.
“Just as well, now that I think about it, I think she moved to Indiana. You’d make great money doing it, though. If I had your looks, I’d do it, but my hair’ll never look like yours.” Sally shrugged her shoulders. “We’d better get going if I’m going to show you around ’for dark.”
“Show me around?” Jada asked. She turned around and stared at Sally.
“Miss Mitzi wanted me to make sure you knew where everything was, seeing as you and Miss Suzanne gonna be staying here awhile.”
Jada pressed the last pin into her head. “All right.” She hoped the trepidation didn’t show in her tone.
Taking one step out of the room, Sally confronted her with a stack of sheets. “Might as well get some work done while we’re walking around the place,” she said.
Jada rearranged the stack in her arms until she was sure she could see over them and followed quickly behind Sally. They walked briskly through the hallway and down the servant’s stairway. Instead of going toward the linen closet, Sally swung open the back doorway and motioned for Jada to follow her. Without so much as a warning, Sally skipped down the steep cement steps from the door to the alley’s ground. Jada, on the other hand, lost her footing on the top step and nearly tumbled down them. Luckily for the laundry, she managed to catch her balance.
“I’d like to see Suzanne pull that move off,” she laughed.
“What was that?” Sally asked, turning around to look at her.
“Just wondering where we were going,” Jada called out. They were standing in the center of an alleyway. Jada’s boots grinded awkwardly with the gravel underneath them.
“To the washbasins, of course.” Sally grinned and set off down the alleyway.
Jada felt suddenly skeptical. “The washbasins are in the alley? I thought you were showing me around.”
“We share our tubs with the ladies around the block,” Sally explained before she turned the corner.
The ladies from the block? Jada hugged the brick walls of the building until they came upon an opening. Who would have thought that in the middle of all these towers was a gathering spot? There, in a makeshift circle were at least seven basins with various amounts of steam rising from them and groups of women hovering all around, cackling like only women could do. Their faces were dripping with sweat from the steaming-hot water.
“Come on,” Sally said, practically running to the one empty basin.
Jada tried to plaster a smile across her face, but found she could only jog a little to keep up with her. By the time Jada got to Sally’s side, the girl had already dropped one pillowcase into the water and was scrubbing hard against the washboard.
“Everyone,” Sally called out, “this here is Jada.” She sat her armload next to an empty basin. A few pitchers of steaming water sat beside it.
“ ’Ello, Jada,” the women called out.
Jada blinked as she glanced around the circle, realizing that she and Sally were the only Negroes among them. Listening closer to their conversations, she was amazed to hear that most of the women were Irish.
“Hello.” Jada knelt beside Sally and poured the last pitcher of steaming water into their basin.
“What brings you to our meeting spot?” One woman asked as she scrubbed a set of white sheets against the washboard.
Sally took a set of sheets and dunked them into the steaming water. Jada watched her for a moment before replying.
“I was just being shown around.” The steam wafted up from the tubs so that Jada could feel the sweat beads trickling down her face. She hated the feeling of sweat. Hopefully she and Suzanne could afford to have their laundry cleaned for them.
“Being shown ’round?” Sally reached for the soap. “Why don’t you toss me another sheet to soak and be useful?” She winked.
Jada was about to respond when Miss Mitzi’s voice rang out over the laughter, “Suzanne, what’s wrong?”
Jada dropped her pillowcase into the tub. Wrong? What could be wrong? Had Mrs. Haskins written with bad news? Had Mr. Ziegfeld reneged on his offer?
“I’m sorry, I’ll help you another day. I have to go to see Suzanne.” Jada pulled the pillowcase out of the tub and handed the soppy mess to Sally.
Sally gave her an unreadable look. “Of course you do.” She held out her hands for the rest of the bedding. Her friendly attitude shifted quickly to a rehearsed coldness. Jada didn’t have time to worry about her, however.
“Suzanne?” Jada said as she came inside the back door and entered the kitchen.
Miss Mitzi was fussing about the small room. A tea kettle was brewing. Suzanne sat at the small wooden table in the center of the room, nervously picking at her nail.
She looked up and saw Jada. “It’s so embarrassing.”
Miss Mitzi handed her a cup of tea. “Oh, dear me now. These things happen.”
Remaining by the door, Jada waited for Suzanne to explain further.
“The show is closing,” Suzanne said. “Tonight is the last performance.”
Miss Mitzi took Suzanne’s hand. “There, there, child. It will be all right. I can extend some credit until you find another show.”
Jada nearly interrupted as she asked, “Have you told Mr. Ziegfeld?”
“Not yet. I just found out myself.” Suzanne took a sip of tea.
“Ziegfeld? Did you say Ziegfeld?” Miss Mitzi looked at Jada for the first time. “The Ziegfeld?”
“He’s offered Suzanne a spot in this year’s Follies,” Jada explained. “Just as soon as her contract at The Dancing Duchess was up.”
“A Ziegfeld girl? In my own home?! This is a cause for celebration!” She jumped to her feet. “I must make preparations. We shall have a feast for you tonight!”
“A feast?” Suzanne held her stomach warily.
“Perhaps we could postpone until another time?” Jada’s tone was soft, but firm. “Costume fittings and such, you know.”
Miss Mitzi’s face fell. “Well, of course. Perhaps we could have a tea to celebrate and you could invite the other girls here as well. Yes, that would be lovely.” Without another word, she left the room muttering plans to herself.
“Are you all right?” Jada took a seat across from Suzanne.
Suzanne leaned back and stretched. She took a sip of tea before giving Jada a gleeful look. “Thank goodness The Dancing Duchess is over! I am now a Ziegfeld girl! It feels unreal still. We must go shopping!”
Before Jada could even think of protesting, Suzanne had collected her handbag and she and Jada were walking toward a shop.
“No arguing about cost, Jada,” Suzanne insisted. “I must be the toast of the town and that requires fashion.”
“But . . .” Jada said, trying to keep up with Suzanne.
“You’ve done a great job this last year, truly, but I need more now. That’s all there is to it. And with Ziegfeld’s salary, we can finally afford it.”
Jada swallowed her pride. The gowns she created and the suits she tailored were well made. She hoped to do more in the future, but as she practically jogged alongside Suzanne, she knew that was over. For a moment she felt the pang of . . . something. Disappointment? Resentment? But she quickly moved on. Suzanne was right, of course. She needed a perfectly tailored wardrobe. Ziegfeld paid well, and surely part of that was because he expected so much from his girls.
“Where are we going?” Jada asked again.
“It’s on the end of the next block, I think,” Suzanne replied, looking around them with a pinched expression.
“Don’t you know?” Jada half laughed. How like Suzanne to speed ahead without direction.
“Well, I haven’t been there personally,” Suzanne confessed. “I heard one of the girls mention it.”
Jada raised her eyebrow. Suzanne was resorting to her mother’s tricks. But, as it never seemed to backfire on Mrs. Haskins, why shouldn’t Suzanne try? People had to learn the tricks from somewhere. Even Jada had to admit to using some of Mrs. Haskins’s expressions to move them along in either mood or money.
On the end of the block was a corner building with tall glass windows. The window displays showed beautifully ornate hats on stands of various sizes in front of an off-white gown covered in pearls. Suzanne and Jada stopped.
“Gosh,” Suzanne gasped, and pointed to a straw hat with a satin flower perched on one side. “That is beautiful.”
“Look at all the workmanship.” Jada admired the pearl gown. Each pearl hand sewn. Surely it had taken someone days, if not weeks, to finish.
“These are fit for a Ziegfeld girl. Let’s go in.” Suzanne tugged on Jada’s arm.
Jada grinned and let herself be pulled into the small shop. Bells above the door jingled as they entered. A wave of cinnamon greeted them, as did voices from the back room.
“I said you were being foolish!” a woman insisted. “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, girl!”
Suzanne’s eyes widened and she mouthed to Jada, “Oh my.”
“You don’t understand! They aren’t giving me my due!” another high-pitched voice whined.
Jada nodded back to Suzanne. It felt like they had intruded on some family dispute. She checked the door’s sign again. It read, OPEN.
“It doesn’t matter,” the first speaker said. “They pay you to do a job, you do it.”
“Jada,” Suzanne whispered. “Jingle the door again.”
“I deserve just as much as any of those other girls. I work twice as hard!”
Once Jada did as asked, Suzanne cleared her throat. “Oh, Jada, look at the bird on this hat. Don’t you love it?”
The voices in the back stopped abruptly and the skirts rustled as they moved to come into the shop. Jada picked up the mauve fur hat with a blue bird perched precariously on top. She held it out for Suzanne. Please don’t like this, she silently pleaded.
Suzanne took it and set it upon her head. Almost instantly she cracked a smile.
“Jada?” she asked. “How do I look?” She whipped her head around so quickly that the bird bobbed up and down.
“I am speechless.” Jada tried to conceal her laughter.
Suzanne turned toward one of the mirrors and looked at herself. The bird bobbed each time she moved. Jada turned away and covered her mouth until Suzanne started laughing. She turned around to Suzanne forcibly nodding her head to make the hat move in various directions. A giggle escaped Jada’s mouth, and soon the two were doubled over the counter laughing together.
Behind them the curtain flung to one side and a statuesque blond woman said, “It is the latest fashion from Paris.”
Suzanne pulled herself together quickly. “Perhaps, but I do not believe it will be my latest fashion.”
Jada couldn’t help herself this time and her laughter continued.
“Some fashion is not for us, but for those we are looking to impress.” The tall woman looked down her nose at both of them. “I am Miss Steel. What can I help you with?” Her tone was so level all the amusement in the room evaporated.
“I need a new dress. Something fashionable,” Suzanne said. She glanced up at the bird hat and quickly unpinned it. “Fashionable, but classic. Nothing too new.”
“Is there a special occasion for which this gown is needed?” the woman asked.
Suzanne smiled. “No occasion in particular. I have recently accepted a position with the Ziegfeld Follies and need a few new gowns to spruce up my wardrobe.”
“A Ziegfeld girl! Oh my.” The woman walked around Suzanne and nodded to herself. “I have some designs in the back. If you wouldn’t mind following me, we can get started right away.”
The girls followed Miss Steel behind the velvet curtain. There was a small platform surrounded by mirrors and a plush sofa next to a table piled with catalogs. Being a Ziegfeld girl was a much different world than either of them was used to. Even in Richmond, Mother chose Suzanne’s gowns. The local tailor had her measurements on hand and things arrived every few months. Jada often was given Suzanne’s old gowns.
Once Suzanne was seated on the sofa, Miss Steel pulled the catalog off the top and opened it to a page in the middle. “With your hair and figure, this suit would look fantastic.”
Suzanne handed her bag to Jada and looked at the illustration. “I’m not sure such wide shoulders would work.”
“We will tailor it to fit your desires. The wide shoulders will make your waist appear small. It is a trick of the eye. Just as that bird will make you appear taller.” She smiled.
Suzanne’s eyes lit up. “The bird will make me appear taller?”
Jada glanced at Suzanne, expecting her friend to meet her gaze, but Suzanne was leaning over the book, examining the suit Miss Steel had suggested for her. It was something Jada would never create. It wasted too much fabric and was a bit too on the trend to make it worth Jada’s time. Even knowing all of this, Jada felt slighted.
“Fashion is all about deception. Take your girl, for example.” Miss Steel turned to Jada and gestured for her to come forward. “With her skin tone and thin frame she could be from anywhere. Is she a Negress? A Spaniard? Italian? No one knows until you style her.”
Jada reached and adjusted the col
lar of her dress. The pale yellow gown was a favorite of hers, but she’d never once imagined that it said something about her. Did people look at her clothing to uncover her race? She never suspected they noticed her at all unless she forced them to by speaking. She now wondered what this dress said about her.
Suzanne stared at Jada, her eyes dancing. “Jada could pass for Spanish?”
Miss Steel nodded. “She does not have the Negro nose, nor the wide, ape-like face. With her high cheekbones and smooth hair, she could pass for Spanish.”
Never in her entire life had Jada felt so disgusted. Suzanne was not defending her at all, but was staring at Jada’s features along with Miss Steel and nodding in agreement. Jada’s family had come over from Africa, were raised as slaves, and then maintained a life on the plantation in Richmond. Miss Steel was pealing her heritage away from her with this assessment.
“But I am not Spanish,” Jada pointed out.
Miss Steel’s gaze hardened. “It does not matter what you are. It only matters what will be best for your employer, and European servants are very hard to come by.”
Suzanne nodded. “I’d be the envy of all the girls.”
Suzanne cocked her head and looked at Jada. For the first time ever, Jada felt like an actual servant around her friend.
“It is something to think about,” Miss Steel stated before pulling another catalog and pointing out another pattern.
Jada stepped back and sat in the chair against the wall with Suzanne’s purse in her lap. Miss Steel gushed over Suzanne’s creamy skin and insisted on a baby blue to highlight her complexion. Suzanne nodded to everything the woman said without another glance at Jada.
CHAPTER 4
The following Monday, garbed in a new suit and a bird-topped hat, Suzanne strutted down Forty-second Street. Yes, the hat felt ridiculous at first, but they were all over Paris, and Anna Held, Ziegfeld’s ex-wife, had been seen wearing one here in New York. Knowing such a woman wore them made the hat feel exotic to Suzanne. Jada wore one of Suzanne’s old gowns, a periwinkle number that they had to take in a bit, but it did the trick. No one would guess Jada’s race now, which gave Suzanne an air of mystery. She grinned with delight. Streetcars and buggies passed by as the street’s pedestrians moved on either side of them.
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