Ziegfeld Girls

by Sarah Barthel

  “Jada?” Danny asked, pulling her away from her curiosity.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “Can you wait here for Bert? I have to run upstairs and grab a new shirt.” He gestured to himself. “It is too hot in here tonight. Thanks.”

  Jada laughed. “Anytime.” Despite herself, she glanced at him as he walked by. His arms were muscled from his day job at the lumber mill and his shoulders were broad. She admired his assets until he turned the corner of the stairs and disappeared.

  “Focus,” Jada muttered to herself.

  Danny jogged toward the back staircase and Jada sat at the piano. Her glass of water was still perched on the edge and she gladly took a drink. Glasses clinked from the bar as Roger collected the remaining dirty dishes from around the room. Jada prepared to help him when she noticed a song peeping out from behind the stack of papers in his pile.

  She pulled out the music and started to play the first few notes of the tune. She put her glass down on the side table and added the left hand to the mix and started humming a melody along with it. It was a fun up-tempo beat that she hadn’t heard before. All too quickly, she came to the bottom of the first page. She flipped the page over to find no more notes. It was unfinished. She turned the page back over and played the piece again. This time when the music stopped, she went back to the beginning and started again. The tune bounced in the air around them, filling the space with a joyful sound.

  Behind her the last of the couples slipped out, leaving Roger drying the dishes alone behind the bar. As she continued to play, Roger hummed along, his voice matching the strength of the song.

  “Wow,” Danny said as he walked over. “You breathed some life into that piece. I’ve been working on it for the last week.”

  Jada took her fingers off the keys. “I’m sorry. It was just so fun to play.”

  The compliment brought a new smile to Danny’s face. “That is the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “Hey, you two. Come have a drink on the house!” Roger called out.

  Danny winked at Jada. “Two waters,” he said.

  It was a tiny gesture, insignificant really, but Jada blushed all the same. If Roger thought it odd at all, he didn’t mention and brought three glasses up to the bar as the door opened. Leon Errol and Bert walked in.

  “Evening,” Roger called out.

  “Mind if we keep you open a bit longer?” Leon asked.

  “We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Roger pulled out two bottles and put them down in front of them.

  Leon took a swig and looked at Jada for the first time. “Ah, hello again. You sing here?”

  “I just started.” Jada felt heat rush to her face.

  “She is wonderful,” Roger said. “I can’t believe my luck.”

  Leon laughed. “Good for you. I know you’ve been looking for some time.” He met Jada’s eye. “Sometimes you just land in the right place at the right time.”

  “Thank you,” Jada said. The tightness in her chest eased and her face cooled. Leon wouldn’t press for reasons why she ran the other day.

  “Well, our loss is Roger’s gain. Congratulations.” Leon lifted his glass to Jada and then took a drink.

  Jada was about to reply when the door entrance chimed, announcing new guests.

  “We’re closed,” Roger said. He rubbed the rim of a glass with a towel.

  “Oh, yes, of course.” Craig Masterson shuffled his feet on the welcome mat. “My friend Laura here believes she left a shawl behind. It is rather important. I assume you’ll assist her.”

  “My mother is going to kill me,” Laura whispered as she fidgeted next to Craig.

  Roger put the glass on the counter and nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I haven’t had a chance to clean up yet, but Jada here will help you look for the lady’s shawl.”

  Laura practically leapt from Craig’s side. She pushed chairs aside as she looked around them. A few bottles fell over as she bumped against a table.

  Roger watched her for a moment before looking to Danny and Jada. “Will you—”

  “Of course.” Jada took a rag and started wiping tables down. Most of the glasses and bottles had been picked up, so it was pretty quick work. Danny walked behind her, lifting the chairs onto the tables.

  “What on earth are you doing?” Laura demanded as she bumped another table, sending liquid to the floor. “Why are you not helping me?”

  Jada’s hair stood on end. This woman had some nerve speaking to her like this. Laura squatted next to a table, searching the floor for the missing shawl. She glanced at Jada and gestured to the table beside her. After a moment’s pause, Jada gave in. If nothing else, finding the shawl would get her and Craig out of the bar.

  “Where were you sitting?” Jada asked.

  Laura jumped at the sound of Jada’s words. “Why?”

  “Because if you left the shawl here, that’s probably where it is.” Danny lifted another chair onto the table and smiled, alleviating tension Jada wasn’t even aware had developed.

  “Oh, yes, of course.”

  Laura stood up and sashayed to the back corner of the room. The far booth was not lit well, but Jada suspected that had been the point. Laura ran her hand over the booth’s leather and then slapped the table in frustration.

  “It’s not there!” A hint of desperation colored her tone.

  Jada hesitated. This woman wouldn’t even look at her. She highly suspected the only reason she followed her advice was because of Danny’s bright smile. But even as she debated that, she noticed a flutter of red on the gray floor beneath the booth.

  “Is that it?” she asked, gesturing to the floor.

  Laura stepped back and looked under the table. “Blast!” she swore.

  Laura pinched a corner of the fabric and lifted it off the floor. The scarf was matted to the ground in a puddle of dark liquid. As she lifted it, Danny shook his head at the sight of the dark splotches that dotted the red fabric.

  “It’s ruined!” Laura said.

  “Give it to me,” Jada said.

  Once she plucked the fabric from Laura’s grip she walked back to the bar. Laura followed after her, muttering more about her mother.

  “Can I have some soda water?” Jada asked Roger as she slid behind the counter and grabbed the salt container.

  “What are you doing?” Laura asked.

  “I am trying to save your shawl,” Jada replied as she first wet the stains with soda water and then covered them with a thick layer of salt.

  Danny returned to putting up the chairs. The rhythmic thumping was oddly soothing. It somehow proved that there was action around her, a purpose. On her other side, Craig slung back a shot of some dark liquid while Roger hung the now-dry glasses.

  “I hope this works.” Laura was fidgeting again. “I borrowed it from my mom’s shop. It is being picked up tomorrow.”

  Jada glanced at Laura. “I will do my best,” she promised. “I didn’t know you were from New York.”

  “I don’t tell many people.” She swayed a little on the stool. “Flo doesn’t need another poor girl from the Bronx trying to make it big in his show. He wants a new story to captivate audiences. Mother’s shop is so close to the theater I can walk. Not exactly exotic.” She picked a bit of dirt out of her nail.

  “I didn’t think Mr. Ziegfeld cared where you grew up, as long as you were talented.”

  “Well, you’ll never be a Ziegfeld girl, so it doesn’t matter to you.”

  Jada swallowed any retort. This girl wouldn’t hear any of them anyway. Instead, she asked. “Does she only make shawls?”

  “Heavens no. She is a full-fledged tailor. She even rents out her front window to a friend who makes hats.” She giggled. “You wouldn’t believe the hats some people buy.”

  Jada smiled, thinking of the woman who sold Suzanne that horrible bird hat.

  “You said the shop is close to the theater?” Jada asked.

  Laura nodded. “It is right off Forty-fou
rth Street.”

  Jada smirked to herself. Laura’s mom was that horrible woman who pushed that horrible hat on Suzanne. What a small world. She was about to say as much, but Laura leaned forward and touched the shawl’s edge.

  “She’s been working on it for a month. All that fine embroidery takes time.”

  Jada poured more salt on the darker stain before walking over to Laura. She took a clean glass and poured some water for her.

  Laura stared at the shawl as if the stain might stand up and walk away if intimidated enough.

  “Can I ask, why did you take it? You are in the Follies. Go into any dress shop or department store and people will fall all over you to help you find accessories.” Jada leaned back and waited while Laura took a drink.

  “I don’t know.” Laura laughed at herself.

  There wasn’t much to say in response to that, so Jada smiled and nodded.

  “How did you know I was in the Follies?” Laura asked. She leaned forward, looking at Jada. “Oh! You’re Suzanne’s girl.” Once she said Suzanne’s name, Laura glanced at Craig, but he was too interested in his drink to notice much else. “Lillian said you were singing in Harlem?”

  “She has the best voice I’ve heard in a while,” Danny said as he slid behind the bar with Jada.

  “We are lucky to have her,” Roger agreed.

  Laura glanced at the two men and giggled. “Well, that explains it.”

  “Explains what?” Jada asked.

  Laura leaned close and whispered, “Why Suzanne is floundering.”

  Jada’s hands went cold for a moment. Floundering? That couldn’t be. They’d gone over every step together. Had there been a shift in the performance that Suzanne hadn’t told her?

  “Oh?” she asked, hoping her concern didn’t show.

  “I don’t know if everyone has noticed yet, but she is struggling. Rehearsing all hours of the day, not attending as many parties as most, and she has turned away suitors.” Laura nodded toward Craig. “Not that I am complaining. Leaves more for the rest of us to play with, but it isn’t like her. I miss going out with her.”

  The last complaint had an edge of truth to it that made Jada sad. She missed Suzanne too, but the person she missed sounded more like the girl Laura was complaining about. Hardworking, serious, and focused. That was the friend who had run away with Jada. That was the friend Jada valued above all else.

  “As long as she is happy.” Jada tried to sound nonchalant, but it sounded wrong. “Let’s see if this stain will wash out, shall we?”

  She took the other cup of soda water and poured it over the piles of salt. Laura watched as the fabric appeared to be good as new.

  “Oh my goodness! You did it!” she exclaimed. “Craig, look!”

  “Top drawer,” Craig said. “Shall we depart? The night is still young.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he slung an arm around Laura’s waist and escorted her out the door.

  Roger snorted. “He didn’t pay. Figures.”

  “Go after him.” Danny lunged toward the door.

  “No,” Roger said. “It isn’t worth it. Not for his kind.”

  Jada silently pulled out the broom and swept up the salt from the floor.

  CHAPTER 25

  Buildings whooshed past one after another as the train made its way from New York to Boston. Suzanne leaned her head against the cool window glass and tried to get the movement of the train to settle her nerves. She, Ann, and Laura sat at a table in the club car, a plate of sandwiches untouched between them. Ann shifted so Lillian didn’t bump her and she walked through the car’s aisle.

  “Of course you know the cast isn’t set in stone yet,” Lillian explained to Kay.

  “Oh?” the tiny girl replied.

  “They call it previews for a reason. If something or someone doesn’t work, Flo will adjust the show.” Lillian waved her hand in the air dismissively. They opened the train car door and left the club car.

  Laura shifted in her seat. “That girl is impossible. She got the parts she wanted and is still bitter.”

  Suzanne lifted her head from the cool window and turned to look where they had disappeared. “She may be in our number, but Kay isn’t. Perhaps she is trying to be nice to the girl?”

  Ann snorted. “Lillian nice? Those words don’t belong in the same sentence.” She reached forward and took one of the tuna salad sandwiches.

  “Kay is beautiful, but her parts speak to her talents, a lovely background statue.” Laura smirked. “What exactly did Flo see in her?”

  “Stop it,” Suzanne demanded. “This isn’t fitting.”

  “You heard Lillian. If she is wishing us ill, why should we be kind in reply?”

  “Because it is what is done.” Suzanne rested her head against the window again. Arguing with Laura was like arguing with a child. She suspected that she sounded much like her mother, but at that moment she didn’t care. The movement of the train along with the nerves for the previews were not working together. Her head pounded like her heart was in her temples.

  “Are you ill?” Ann asked. She glanced at her sandwich and then put it down, as if eating in front of Suzanne was distasteful.

  She closed her eyes. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Eat something,” Laura said, pushing the plate closer to her. “It won’t do to be hungry once we get to the hotel and start toasting the company and each other over and over.”

  “Ugh,” Suzanne moaned. She’d drunk enough champagne these last few months to last her a lifetime. And she didn’t like the stuff, not really.

  Ann laughed. “It won’t be that bad. Small sips will save your stomach.”

  “Or no sips,” Suzanne said. “Flo can’t watch all of us.”

  Laura stood up. “I’ll go get you some crackers.” Ann nodded to her and watched as she walked down the club car to the cart. A few gentlemen watched her as she moved. Suzanne wondered how serious she and Craig were, or if she’d allow gentlemen in Boston to call upon her as well.

  Ann cleared her throat. “It is just us now. Are you ill?”

  Suzanne rubbed her temples. “Not ill. It is just a headache. I am well. Will we rehearse tonight?”

  “Well, that is up to Flo and Julian, but probably not. I suspect we will all be instructed to bed for rest, but many will go out dancing. Just be sure not to get caught.” She took another bite of the sandwich.

  Suzanne nodded. “Bed sounds perfect.”

  Ann looked up at her tone. “The parties are not mandatory. Flo likes for us to be seen in society, of course, but that doesn’t mean that we have to go out every night. If you are tired, stay home. He will not think less of you. He’ll probably commend you for taking care of yourself.”

  “Really?” The pounding in her head subsided a bit.

  “Of course.” Ann reached across the table and squeezed her friend’s hand. “We are performers above all else.”

  Suzanne laughed despite herself. “Performers who bathe in milk and lavender.”

  “Well, we are special women,” Ann said in return.

  Laura returned with a small pile of crackers on a plate. “Here you are.” She smiled.

  Suzanne took a cracker and nibbled on it. The rocking of the train felt less intense. Across from her, Ann took another sandwich and leaned back in the seat. Laura stood, swaying back and forth with the rhythm of the train.

  “Is the cracker helping?” Laura asked after a time. “I can get tea if that would be better.”

  Suzanne was about to reply, but a side glance at Ann silenced her. Ann’s face was turning pale, almost green. With a moan she gripped her stomach and lurched over. Her chair jutted out behind her and bumped another passenger.

  “Ann?” Suzanne asked, dropping her cracker.

  Laura jumped back from the table as Ann leaned over and wretched onto the floor, spewing partially eaten tuna onto Laura’s shoes.

  “Ann!” Laura jumped back.

  Suzanne pushed back from the table and stood up. “
Don’t just stand there, Laura. Help her!”

  Laura’s lip curled in distaste. “What?”

  Suzanne grasped Ann’s arms and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s at least get her out of the club car.”

  She put one arm around her shoulder and instructed Laura to do the same.

  “I don’t feel good,” Ann muttered.

  “I gathered,” Laura muttered back.

  The two dragged her down the aisle. The other passengers leaned away from them as Ann tried to conceal another heave.

  Laura opened the door to their private room and the two helped Ann take a seat. Suzanne sat on the bench facing her and worked on opening the window. The latches were harder than she expected, but after a moment the top leaned out and a gust of fresh air flew into the room. Laura stood in the doorframe, a look of distaste and fear on her face.

  “Sit here and breathe in the fresh air,” Suzanne instructed Ann. To Laura she demanded, “If you aren’t going to come in, perhaps you could get a towel or bucket from the kitchen in case she gets sick again?”

  Laura nodded. “Yes, of course, thank you.” She was gone before Suzanne could say anything else.

  Ann leaned against the train’s window and took a deep breath.

  “What is wrong?” Suzanne asked.

  “I don’t know,” Ann said, wincing as she spoke. “I just—”

  She glanced around with a panicked look on her face. Suzanne jumped up onto the bench, grabbed a hatbox off the shelf, and tossed the container to Ann, who promptly tore off the top and threw up in the box.”

  “Oh no,” she said. “Your hat.”

  Just over the rim, Suzanne could see the little bird bopping up and down. She stifled a grin. “Don’t worry, Ann. I never really liked that hat.”

  “Do you think there were onions in that sandwich?” she asked.

  “I doubt it. Wouldn’t you have tasted them?”

  “I guess.” She burped and re-covered the hatbox.