by Amber Brock
“She’s smart. She knows what she wants and how to get it.”
Max set the book back on the coffee table. “So you’ve read Great Expectations. That’s one. Anything else?”
She sat back. “I like The Merchant of Venice.”
“Oh, I bet you do.”
“I like Portia.” Kitty reached for her cigarette case. “There’s a woman with guts. The Wife of Bath is pretty good too. Knows how to dress, and she didn’t even need fashion magazines.”
Max watched Kitty for a moment without responding. Sebastian, whose head had been going back and forth like a metronome, had abandoned the conversation and sat playing with Loco in the corner. Kitty blew smoke toward the ceiling. She felt certain Max was working on another volley, so she was surprised when he pulled a small brown journal out of his pocket.
“Fair’s fair. Here’s what I’m reading right now.” He offered the journal to her. “I got the poem from a book from the library and copied it out so I could keep it with me.”
She read the title and the first few lines. “ ‘Little Gidding’?” she asked. “What’s that?”
“It’s a town. And a church.”
“And a poem, apparently.” She set the journal on the coffee table, beside the copy of Great Expectations. “Is it any good?”
“It’s very good. I’ve read it a lot. It’s a hard one.”
Kitty shrugged. “Why not read two or three easier ones? Take you about the same amount of time. Much less work that way.”
For the first time in the conversation, Max dropped her gaze. “I’m being serious with you right now.”
“If you get to crack jokes about Estella, I can joke too.”
“It’s clear I misjudged you. I’m sorry. Really.”
His straightforward tone caught Kitty off guard. “Thank you.”
He nodded and put the journal back in his pocket. “Anyway, you wanted to know about Miami, right? That was the reason for this friendly visit. Sebastian, tell her about the beach, would you?”
Sebastian looked up from his game of tug-of-war with Loco. “I get to talk now?”
“Tell Kitty about Miami and don’t be sore.” Max pointed at the bar. “Mind if I refill?”
“Not at all.” Kitty lounged on the chaise once more, toying with her earring as Sebastian described the restaurants and clubs that awaited her in Miami. She half listened, replaying the conversation with Max. Handling someone’s dismissal of her with a well-timed barb was a reflex by now—Kitty had been doing that most of her life. She was far less equipped to handle sincerity.
“…and you’ll have to take Loco out to the beach,” Sebastian continued, unaware of her distraction. Kitty gasped.
“Loco! She won’t be able to fly with me. I guess I’ll have to leave her here.” Her heart sank. Between missing Christmas morning with her father and the prospect of a month without Loco, Kitty was ready to reconsider the trip.
“She can ride on the bus with us,” Sebastian said without hesitation. He turned to Max. “That will be all right, don’t you think?”
Max glanced from Sebastian to Kitty. “Sure. Of course. Can’t leave her here.”
“I’ll take very good care of her, I promise,” Sebastian said.
“I’m sure you would. But how would she get back?”
“Some musicians from the band here are coming with us, aren’t they?” Sebastian asked Max. “They will probably return when Andre does. And we will make sure she goes with someone who you can trust. If I don’t find someone, I will bring her back myself.”
“Well, that settles it,” Kitty said. “Loco, I guess you’re coming to Miami.”
They said their good-byes shortly after, leaving Kitty alone with the puzzle of Max’s behavior. He seemed to be testing her, probing for something, but she wasn’t sure what. Sparring with a worthy opponent had been a refreshing challenge, even if he had thrown her for a loop with his sudden change in attitude. What an odd bird, she thought. At least conversation in Miami wouldn’t be dull.
Hen called the next morning to say that she’d secured her mother’s permission to go to Miami, a huge relief to Kitty. Following Kitty’s instructions, Hen had pitched the trip as a shopping excursion, and Mrs. Bancroft had agreed without hesitation. The only question Hen’s mother had asked was if the airline would charge for extra luggage, since she wanted Hen to take an empty suitcase to fill with new clothes. Kitty assured them both that an extra bag would be no trouble, since they could each carry up to forty pounds of luggage, and they could always ship back anything they couldn’t pack.
Though Kitty had initially planned to go shopping herself to prepare, she decided to heed her own sage advice and purchase her vacation wardrobe in Miami. She’d take a few items, of course, but the stores in New York would only have winter clothes. Most of Kitty’s summer wear would be hopelessly out-of-date by Miami standards. Buying outfits in Miami was the smartest course of action. She packed a light suitcase and carried an empty one of her own.
Sebastian stopped by the night before her flight to pick up Loco. Kitty handed over a hefty satchel with Loco’s food, favorite toys, and blanket. She also gave him ten dollars and the direct phone number for the suite at the Imperium, with strict instructions to call if anything happened. She was nearly at the point of tears, but Sebastian reassured her that he would care for Loco like she was his own. His clear excitement at having the dog to accompany him on the long ride eased Kitty’s nerves. At last, she relinquished the leash, and Loco was off to Florida with the band.
The next morning, Kitty put on the only weather-appropriate dress she’d found when she’d done a last-minute sweep of Macy’s, a short-sleeved fuchsia number with a flared skirt and shiny black buttons up the front. She pinned a black, pearl-studded half hat into her curls and clipped large rhinestone studs on her earlobes. The finishing touch was a turquoise pair of Claire McCardell sunglasses, which she tucked in her handbag. Kitty would add those on the tarmac, where her father planned to take a photo of her boarding with Andre and Hen.
“Are you excited to fly?” her father asked as his driver steered them through the streets toward Idlewild Airport. “Remember, it’s bumpy. That’s normal, so don’t let it make you worry.”
“I won’t, Papa.” She rolled the strap of her handbag between her fingers. “When are you coming down?”
“I haven’t quite worked it out yet. Don’t worry about me. Just have a good time, all right?”
Kitty nodded and kept her eyes on the beams of the bridge as they flew by the car window. The truth was, she was a bit nervous about flying, mainly about the possibility of needing the airsickness bag. She didn’t exactly want Andre to have an enduring memory of her throwing up into a bag, even if she wasn’t serious about him.
At the airport, they handed her luggage off to the porter. Hen and Andre were waiting at the gate, and they all went out to the tarmac together when it was time to board. They joined a line of people who had the same idea, and they waited as each group posed on the stairs to have their photo taken. Finally, it was their turn, and the three travelers squinted into the sun as Kitty’s father snapped the picture.
“Oh, wait,” Kitty called. She pulled her sunglasses out of her bag. “Take another one, Papa.”
Someone below them on the stairs groaned, but Kitty ignored them. No excuse for not getting the best picture possible. She waved at her father one last time, then boarded the plane with Hen and Andre.
A smiling stewardess met them at the door. They offered their tickets, and the stewardess led them to four seats near the front of the plane. The seats were arranged in sets of two, facing each other, with a table between them. Hen and Kitty sat next to each other, with Andre on the other side of the table.
“Isn’t this lovely? Like a train,” Hen said.
“The deluxe cabin is the only way to go
,” Andre said. “I suggested it to Mr. Tessler. Thought this way it would be easier for us to keep each other company.”
Kitty would have preferred to sit with Hen alone, but she had to admit the seating was divine. She was especially pleased when the stewardess came around a few minutes later to take orders for cocktails and to hand out the menu. The lunch in the deluxe cabin featured marinated mushrooms and steak. If this was air travel, Kitty could see herself flying more often.
The plane shuddered to life. The whine of the engines startled Kitty, and she glanced to see if more experienced travelers looked nervous. The stewardesses chatted happily near the front, and Andre studied his menu. No fear there. Kitty turned to Hen and saw her own worry mirrored in Hen’s wide eyes. The recognition made both girls laugh, and Kitty patted Hen’s hand.
“Mother said takeoff is the scariest part,” Hen said as the plane rolled down the runway.
Kitty jerked her head back to look at Hen. “When has your mother ever been on a plane?”
“She went on some luxury flight with Father when I was a baby. Said it was awful, that she’d never do it aga—oh.” Hen pressed her lips together. “Well, that was a long time ago. I’m sure this will be different.”
“It’ll be fine,” Andre said. “I’ve done this plenty.”
His calm reassured Kitty for the briefest of moments, until the plane began to rise. A sudden pressure settled on her whole body, pushing her into her seat. Outside the window, the skyline tilted. Though Kitty expected her nerves to get worse, instead she felt liberated at the thought that she was free from the earth. The plane leveled, and she looked out the window. Manhattan truly looked like an island from that height, instead of the energetic world it was at street level.
The city’s buildings shrank to the size of toys, then disappeared into the distance. The stewardess brought postcards with a photo of the plane on them, and the girls busied themselves scribbling notes to their families. Andre slipped his postcard into his pocket.
“Don’t you want to drop one in the mail?” Kitty asked.
“Who would I send it to? Your pop?”
Kitty pressed her lips together as she realized she knew very little about Andre’s family. “Your friends in the city wouldn’t want to see the plane?”
“Nah, they’d think I was bragging.” He smiled.
“I’m just surprised a guy like you doesn’t have a girl,” Hen said.
Andre laughed. “Not at the moment, no.”
“What about brothers or sisters? Wouldn’t they like to get a card from you?”
“Don’t have any. No family in the city to speak of. My pop died when I was a kid, and my mom never remarried. She died a couple of years ago.” His tone stayed light and amiable. “It’s just me.”
“I’m so sorry,” Hen said.
“Hey.” Andre leaned forward. “Nothing to be sorry about. I’m happy—got my job, it keeps me busy. Got friends who have me over for holidays. Plus there’s Mr. Tessler.” He nodded at Kitty. “He’s a good man. I’m fortunate to work for him.”
Kitty sensed Andre wanted her to respond. “He’s glad to have you. Says so all the time.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she realized they were true. What she hadn’t known was how much Andre looked up to her father. That was clear from the way Andre brightened at the idea that her father talked about him.
“Yeah?” Andre shook his head. “Good man, good man.”
A jolt of turbulence interrupted them, and Kitty gripped the handles of her seat. She decided a lighter meal was the best idea, in case her stomach revolted against the rocky treatment. When the stewardess came to take their orders, she asked for the cold salad plate. Hen followed suit, but Andre opted for the steak. He was an experienced flyer, so Kitty reasoned he must be more used to the ups and downs. He seemed completely untroubled, pulling out a deck of cards as the plane took another dip.
“Either of you play gin rummy?” he asked. Kitty declined, taking out a magazine, but Hen agreed excitedly. It was all Kitty could do not to roll her eyes. Of course Hen would waste a glamorous plane trip on an old ladies’ game just to avoid hurting someone’s feelings.
The trip went by surprisingly fast. A couple of rounds of cards, a delicious meal, and a few magazines later, Kitty glanced out the window to see cerulean water. A thin band of buildings curved around a larger landmass to the west.
Andre spotted her looking. “That’s it,” he said.
“South Beach?”
“South Beach.” He grinned. “You girls are in for a treat.”
Hen leaned over Kitty to gaze at the view. As Kitty watched her friend admiring the sight of Miami for the first time, she reminded herself that the plane’s descent meant the beginning of her plan. If all went the way she hoped, everything would be different by the time they flew back home.
Before Kitty could even step outside the plane’s open door, a burst of hot, sticky air made her gasp. The short sleeves that she thought would make her dress so perfect for the Miami temperatures were little help, and she could feel every fiber of her stockings clinging to her legs. Each step she took down the stairs brought her closer to the pulse of heat from the tarmac. Her father had been right; she sure wouldn’t have to worry about snow.
Andre, Kitty, and Hen went to baggage claim, where porters began laying out suitcases in a long line. They pointed out theirs, and Andre slipped a porter a few bills to follow them out to the taxi line.
“We don’t have a car here?” Kitty asked, fluffing her curls away from the beads of perspiration now dotting her temple. Next to her, Hen fanned herself and exhaled hard.
“It’s in the shop,” Andre explained. “Don’t worry. We should have it in the next few days. South Beach is like New York, though. You can walk to a lot.” He chuckled. “Just not the airport.”
Kitty forced a smile and climbed into the back of the cab with Hen. Andre directed the cabbie to Collins Avenue, and they pulled onto the street.
All she remembered from her previous visit were the bright whites and vivid colors of the buildings. Despite the memory, the tropical rainbow still took Kitty by surprise with its vibrancy as they passed the hotels, resorts, and restaurants that led to South Beach. The sooty grays and browns of New York, along with the tall buildings, darkened every street and corner. Miami’s yellows were lemon, its pinks were candy, and everything was edged with chrome. She felt more awake, as if she’d come out of a long, refreshing sleep. Miami was alive, and it wanted Kitty here.
They pulled into the circular driveway in front of the gleaming white Imperium Hotel. The cabbie opened the back door, and Kitty sucked in a breath of warm salt air. Unlike the stale air on the tarmac, the light breeze at the hotel carried a promise of cool ocean water.
A gangly bellboy with light brown skin raced out and began unpacking the trunk before the three travelers could even step out of the cab. When he spotted Andre, the bellboy set down the suitcase he was carrying and stuck out his hand.
“Mr. Polzer, good to see you. They told us you were coming today,” he said.
“How are you, George?” Andre shook the boy’s hand.
“Always a beautiful day at the Imperium, sir.” George’s words had a practiced air. “And which one of your lovely companions is Mr. Tessler’s daughter?”
Andre waved Kitty forward. “This is Miss Tessler, and her friend is Miss Bancroft. They’re in the presidential suite.”
“Yes, sir.”
Andre pointed out the girls’ luggage, and George piled it onto a cart. He disappeared into a side door, and Hen and Kitty followed Andre through the wide glass doors of the main entrance. Since the Vanguard was Kitty’s home, she never really thought of it as a hotel. She saw strangers in the elevator, of course, but thought of the daily commotion as a normal part of life. Standing in the lobby of the Imperium, she could see her father’s w
ork for what it was. The spacious room brought back a recollection of her first visit as a young girl, with the sea air drifting through the lobby and the wicker furniture.
Now Kitty could appreciate the subtleties of how her father had incorporated his taste into the unique Miami ambiance. The wood plank walls she remembered as white actually had a hint of pale blue, a constant reminder of the turquoise water that awaited just on the other side of the lobby. Cool white marble floors provided an oasis from the humidity they’d just escaped. And the shining metal accents on the check-in desk occasionally caught rays of sunlight from the long windows that looked out over the sands and pool. Kitty made a mental note to tell her father how much she liked it when she called to let him know they’d arrived safely.
The man at the check-in desk greeted Andre warmly. He gave the girls keys to the presidential suite and practically begged them to let him know if they required anything. As the three walked to the elevator, Kitty turned to Andre.
“When is the band arriving?” she asked.
“It usually takes them three days, with stops. I’d say Friday morning.”
“Do you think they’ll call before then?”
Hen laid a hand on Kitty’s arm. “I’m sure Loco’s fine. Sebastian said he’d treat her like his own.”
“I’m not worried,” Kitty said quickly. “Just want to make sure I’m ready to pick her up. I don’t want him to have to watch her once they’re here.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I get word,” Andre assured her. “You two would probably like to freshen up, right? Let’s meet for dinner at seven. I have some work to do, but I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
Kitty and Hen agreed, and they stepped onto the elevator as Andre headed back toward the hall leading to the right of the entrance, which Kitty assumed led to the offices. He threw a look and a final wave over his shoulder before the doors closed. Now he can’t even walk away without looking back? Kitty thought. Yep, all the classic signs. Andre had fallen prey to her usual effect on men. She’d have to put some work into convincing him to give up on her by the end of the trip. At the moment, though, she needed to concentrate on Hen. Kitty calculated that the few days it would take for the band to arrive would give her time to set her scheme into motion. Once Sebastian arrived, she could begin working to throw Hen in his path.