Ziegfeld Girls

by Sarah Barthel

  “Flo won’t appreciate my tardiness, no matter how well I move,” Suzanne said. She intended to be firm, but jovial, but once spoken her words sounded flirtatious.

  “Tell him you were with me.” He smiled. “Flo will understand.”

  “No, Mr. Masterson. Flo does not tolerate any tardiness.” Suzanne pressed her hand against her chest, trying to keep the distance between them. Today of all days she had to be on time. She held out her other hand for a handshake. “Until we meet again?”

  Instead of shaking her hand, Mr. Masterson leaned over and pressed his lips against Suzanne’s long fingers. “I’ll be sure it won’t be long.”

  Oh my! If Jada had seen him, Suzanne would’ve had an earful. She promised herself to keep this private. They chose to join the Follies. Letting dashing millionaires court her was one of the perks that Suzanne intended on enjoying.

  He led her out of the alcove and down the alley toward the back entrance of the theater. The small staircase was empty. In a short while it would be busy with girls arriving for rehearsal and caterers arriving with food.

  “Thank you for the walk.” Suzanne oozed polite formality.

  Craig winked and held the stage door open for Suzanne. “The pleasure was all mine,” he said.

  She slipped inside before he could say anything else. The door shut behind her and she leaned against the wall, taking a deep breath. Next time she’d either insist on being driven or she’d keep Jada with her. Now that Craig was gone, she wished she hadn’t dismissed Jada for the day. What had she been thinking? She needed her eyes for the new choreography. Craig Masterton was not worth all that.

  Echoes of raised voices came down the hallway.

  “Francine, please!” Jonathon exclaimed. “You can’t leave the show!”

  Suzanne ducked into a narrow alcove. Francine had barely spoken two words to her since rehearsals began, the last thing she needed was to interrupt something she shouldn’t. She got the impression that Francine was very private. She had been rumored to be up for a solo number, but never heard past that. Suzanne pushed herself as far into the alcove as she could squeeze and waited for them to pass her by.

  “Jonathon, enough. I have never been so ill-treated.” Francine stopped and turned to face Jonathon. Her skirts brushed the edge of Suzanne’s, but she didn’t notice.

  “Ill-treated?” Jonathon looked baffled. “We haven’t even finished casting the show. There are at least two numbers we’ve yet to cast. Flo has many plans for your beauty.”

  Francine snorted. “As if that matters! I will not stay somewhere I am not wanted, no matter the part. Please tell Flo good-bye for me.” Her words were soft, but her cheeks flushed with emotion.

  “But you are an asset to our production!”

  Suzanne pressed herself against the wall as Francine reached into her handbag and pulled out a clump of papers.

  “Well, someone doesn’t want me here,” she hissed. “And I am not about to find out who.” She threw the papers at Jonathon and stomped out of the building.

  Jonathon bent over and picked up the crumpled mess. The small bits of paper had landed all over the floor. A few were mere inches from Suzanne’s dress. She would surely be found any moment. He reached toward her and, instead of letting him discover her, she knelt down and handed him the few pieces near her.

  “Suzanne!” he jumped back. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “I heard you arguing with Francine and had only just come inside. I didn’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

  Jonathon pocketed the paper he had picked up. “That is probably for the best.”

  “What sparked that?” she asked.

  Jonathon thought for a moment. “I don’t know. She came to Flo’s office to say she’s leaving. I tried to convince her to stay, but you saw what happened.”

  Suzanne picked up one of the papers and smoothed it out. She glanced at the scrawled words.

  “What is it?” Jonathon stood and read the paper. Instantly they opened other sheets she’d thrown.

  “They are all the same,” Jonathon said.

  “No wonder she left. These are horrible. ‘You are an abomination to women everywhere.’ Who would say that of Francine?”

  She read through the notes in her hand:

  One false move and you’ll be sorry.

  Dance your life away, dear Francine.

  The time has come for you to die.

  Leave the Follies or you’ll be sorry.

  “None of them are signed.” Jonathon turned the papers over.

  “No one would sign such notes,” Suzanne scoffed. “But these alone aren’t enough to make her leave the show.”

  “Something more must be happening,” Jonathon said.

  The stage door opened and Ruby stepped inside. Despite the heat, her face was pale and her blouse wasn’t fitting well. Many girls lost weight during the stress of rehearsal, but Ruby was already so small it was disconcerting. Ruby stared at the pile of notes that covered the floor and her face went even paler.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s nothing,” Jonathon said. “I just spilled some garbage.”

  Ruby looked to Suzanne and then walked quickly past them.

  “Great, I’ve lost my advantage of being early.” Suzanne handed Jonathon the notes she picked up. “I’ve got to go.”

  Jonathon took Suzanne’s hand for a moment. “Please don’t tell anyone about this.”

  “Of course,” she agreed. “It would only upset the other girls.”

  * * *

  Rehearsal, if you could call it that, had been dull. Not what you’d expect from performing with a great comedian. Bert barely spoke. He sat in the audience and watched as Leon and Julian placed the girls in different positions to get a feel of how to balance the stage. They were representing a forest while Bert and Ann sang about life at a ball. In the middle of the number they would come alive and move around Ann and Bert to symbolize the frivolity of love. At the end of two hours, Julian declared, “Thanks for your time, girls. Suzanne, you look pale, get some rest. And, Ruby, try to eat more.”

  Ruby and Suzanne walked back to their room in a silent buzz of fatigue. The dressing room was quiet. Jada stood to one side, collecting the strewn garments Ruby and Lillian shed. She hardly looked up when Suzanne entered. A wave of guilt hit Suzanne and she was frozen for a moment. This was not what she meant when she told Jada she’d see her later. She didn’t want her cleaning up after Lillian and Ruby all day.

  “Jada . . .” Suzanne started to say, but when Lillian looked up she didn’t know how to finish.

  “I was there, just like I promised,” Jada said as she hung up a blouse.

  Lillian cleared her throat. “I think I’ve been in the wrong. I am sorry if I made either of you feel bad about the Williams number. I will try to be happy for you from now on. We should all be supportive of one another.”

  Jada turned toward Lillian, a look of surprise on her face. Suzanne rubbed some lotion into her skin as she asked, “What brought this apology on?”

  “It’s just, Ruby is my friend and I should be supportive of her. And while I don’t know that I like you, we share a room and I’d rather not have you as an enemy, or have you thinking that way of me. Ruby deserves better than what I’ve been doing.”

  Lillian turned, clearly expecting Ruby to say something in response, but she was silent. A small bouquet sat on the table in front of her, the card in her hand.

  “What’s wrong?” Suzanne asked as a slight dread filled her stomach. She gave Jada her blouse to hang up.

  Lillian laughed. “Didn’t you tell Joe to stop sending you flowers?”

  Ruby still didn’t reply. Casually, Jada passed behind her and glanced at the card.

  “Suzanne,” she said instantly. “Suzanne, the card.”

  Before Ruby could toss the slip of paper, Suzanne took it from her hand.

  She read aloud: “One more move like today and you’ll be dead. E
at up, dear.”

  Lillian dropped her powder puff. “What on earth?”

  Just like with Francine’s the note wasn’t signed. Suzanne looked on both sides. “Do you know who sent this?”

  Ruby shook her head, refusing to look up. “It came with this.” She handed Lillian a box from her vanity. Lillian lifted the lid to reveal a small assortment of chocolates each painted with a different design. As the overly sweet scent filled the room, Lillian went to her friend and hugged her.

  “This is so wrong,” Lillian said. “You are beautiful just as you are.”

  “Is this the first card?” Suzanne asked.

  Jada met Suzanne’s eyes and shook her head. When Ruby didn’t reply, Suzanne asked, “What do you know, Jada?”

  “There have been at least two others.”

  “Two?” Lillian gasped. “Why did you tell her and not me?”

  “I didn’t,” Ruby said.

  “I found them while cleaning.” Jada gestured around the room.

  “And you never said anything?” Lillian’s tone was accusatory.

  “Who would write such awful words?” Jada’s question hung unanswered.

  Lillian plucked the card from Suzanne’s hand and stared at it.

  Ruby’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. Who cares that much about me? I’m nobody here.”

  “That is not true,” Lillian said. She dropped the card on the table. “You’re a Ziegfeld girl!”

  Ruby snorted. “If I can’t gain weight I may not be for long.”

  “That’s it!” Suzanne snapped her fingers in excitement.

  Jada took the card and read it again. “Yes, whoever sent this must have been onstage when Julian spoke with you about Bert’s number. ‘Eat up, dear.’ Your declining figure was his only criticism.”

  “You think someone from the company did this?” Ruby asked. “Who hates me so much they want to scare me?”

  Lillian’s face flushed as Ruby wiped a tear away. “Ruby is upset. Let’s do tea another day.”

  “No,” Suzanne decided. “Julian told you to gain weight and we shall help.”

  “I agree,” Lillian said. She slipped her arms into a violet blouse. “An early dinner and then early to bed. Whoever this is won’t ruin you.”

  “Thanks.” Ruby’s voice sounded as small as she was.

  As her roommates got dressed, Suzanne stepped over to Jada’s side. Jada held out the jacket to her suit and Suzanne slid her arms into the sleeves.

  “There were truly others?” she asked in a low tone.

  “Not as strange, but yes. And perhaps more.” Jada shook her head. “She is sweet and hardly a threat. Why her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Jada took Suzanne’s hand. “Suzanne,” she said, then faltered. “She isn’t the only one who has gotten notes.”

  “I know. Francine left the show this morning. She received so many notes that she couldn’t take it. They drove her out.”

  “What?” Jada asked.

  “Francine. She’s really quiet. Big brown eyes. She left the company over stunts like this.”

  “Is that their goal? To push girls out of the Follies? That takes a lot of emotion. There are a few girls with that kind of jealousy.”

  Suzanne locked eyes with Lillian’s as she helped Ruby button up her skirt. There were a few people jealous enough to hurt Ruby. A few people who wanted special treatment enough to torment someone out of the show. Given Lillian’s history and her sudden role reversal, Suzanne wondered if Lillian could be one of them.

  CHAPTER 17

  The note was still sitting on Ruby’s vanity. Jada pocketed it and finished cleaning the room. Suzanne and the others had gone to dinner. The box of chocolates was left behind untouched on the vanity. Jada sniffed them and shuddered at the sweet scent. When combined with the card, the threat seemed too real. She had to tell someone. Someone who might be able to do something to help Ruby. She glanced at the clock. It was barely five. Perhaps Jonathon was still working. Would Jonathon take these notes as seriously as she did?

  Don’t be such a ninny, she instructed herself. Jonathon wants to know why girls are leaving. He’ll thank you for the information.

  Jada peered into the hallway. To her relief it was completely empty. The others must’ve bolted just like Suzanne. An evening of fun after a day of work. Jada’s thoughts floated to Harlem. If she had a choice, she’d be back there listening to good music and laughing with Sally. Had the note not been pressed into her palm, she may have run off right then. But this was more important.

  The door to the stage was open. She slid through, half hoping to hear voices. Instead, she felt her way through discarded set pieces and assorted hanging ropes and pulleys until she found herself on the stage. The lights still blazed life into the space, but it was empty. The wood gleamed beneath her feet and the rows of empty chairs beckoned her.

  Her hand rested on the velvet trim of the curtain. Pulling back the curtain, she peered around into the house. Although the lights were on, she was still able to see back to the top of the balcony. The vines and wreath details of each box seat nearly reached out to Jada, inviting her to perform for them especially. The cream ceiling with its Greek-inspired details gave the theater an even brighter appearance than a normal theater. Small grapes climbed up the walls and highlighted the stage shape as well. Jada had never seen such decadence in a theater’s décor. Despite her best efforts, jealousy nudged at her stomach.

  You’ll just tell them Suzanne said to meet you, Jada promised herself. Thoughts of finding Jonathon fell from her mind.

  She took a few steps over the wooden floor until she was far enough onto the stage she had to drop the curtain from her hand. The warmth of the stage lights were fuel for her soul. She stood for a minute bathing in that warmth, before walking to the center of the stage.

  As she and Suzanne had done as young children, she glanced down to where the conductor would be standing and nodded her head as if telling him she was ready to perform. That afternoon she had watched Julian and Suzanne start working on the tango number that would close act one. It had potential to be the best number in the show. It was Suzanne’s number, but Jada knew she could perform it without any direction. With grace, she rose to her toes and swung and dipped herself across the stage. Her arms did not exude as much strength as Suzanne’s, nor did she express enough confidence to become the smoldering temptress who Suzanne tried to emulate in her dance. But the fluidity of her moves and the smile on her face made her feel beautiful.

  After performing Suzanne’s number, she stood in the far right corner of the stage, working to catch her breath. The stage was so large she felt like an ant in a lush green field. Over and over she ran to the far stage left corner and ran across the stage to the front stage right making a grand leap in the middle of the stage. She felt her legs extend to the point that her skirt’s slit tore to accommodate her extension.

  Turning back to the center of the stage, she inhaled deeply. The smell of grease paint and velvet seats filled her nostrils. Without thinking, she cocked her hip out and rolled it over to the other side.

  “Dat Jim Crow. He don’t know nottin’.” She used her strongest coon accent. “Says no darkie is going to dance again. I be showin’ him wrong.”

  She placed her feet in fourth position, lifted up, and turned around in a complete circle, not lifting a single toe. Letting her body flow in the pattern she knew too well from watching rehearsal, she took three steps forward before lifting up again and turning around in a pirouette.

  She was going to continue, when she heard the distinctive sound of one of the house seats snapping back into its upright position.

  She froze.

  Her eyes scanned the audience for the offending spy, but the air felt as still as if no one stood in it. No new shadows appeared, no footsteps sounded or doors opened. It wasn’t until a figure appeared in the far aisle that Jada was positive she had heard anything. As the man stepped farther toward the s
tage, Jada realized why he had blended into the shadows so well; it was Bert.

  He had sat in silence, watching Jada perform. She had to know what he thought of her.

  “’Lo,” he said once his foot landed on the wooden stage.

  “Hello,” Jada replied.

  “So you can dance as well as mend cuts.”

  Jada grinned back at the compliment. “How is your shoulder?”

  Bert rolled his shoulder back. “Almost healed.”

  Jada came to the front of the stage beside him. “It looks good. Why were you sitting in the house?”

  Bert rubbed his neck. “I like to sit out there and imagine what the different numbers will look like onstage. Something is missing from my number with Ann. The girls add a nice element, but it isn’t how we thought it would look.”

  Jada looked down at the man. “Maybe it just needs time. You only started rehearsal.”

  “Perhaps. What are you doing dancing across the stage, Jada?”

  Jada felt heat pulse throughout her body as if searching for an excuse. It would’ve been so simple to say that she was waiting for Suzanne, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie to Bert Williams. Instead, despite all better judgment, she told him the truth.

  “Rehearsal was out early and the theater was empty. I didn’t think anyone would mind if I took a turn or two across the stage.” She shrugged, and added, “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  Bert shook his head. “It’ll be our secret.” He winked.

  The two stood at the corner of the stage in silence for a moment. Jada smoothed her skirt down in the front as she tried to find something interesting to say.

  Bert walked upstage. “Your friend and Ann are good friends. She’s caught Flo’s attention. You must be pleased for her.”

  Jada nodded. “Thank you for allowing her to dance with you. I never thought she’d have such luck her first year.”

  “We both know that my choices were limited.” Bert stiffened. “I won’t force anyone into an uncomfortable situation.”