by Amber Brock
He nodded and walked toward the door of the suite. She twisted a lock of hair, certain she didn’t want this to be the way they ended the evening.
“Hey,” she called as he opened the door.
“Hey.” He turned back to her.
“Maybe soon you can tell me about that poem. Another night? What was it? ‘Little’…something?” she said.
The corner of his mouth ticked up. “ ‘Little Gidding.’ ”
She took a step toward him. “Yes, that one.”
“I’d love to. Good night.”
He closed the door, and Kitty stood still for a moment, trying to slow her heartbeat. She grabbed a bottle of rum, one of the limes, and a glass. Loco followed Kitty into her room, where Kitty dimmed the lights. She had no idea how she was going to get back on her feet after this episode, but she knew it started with a stiff drink. Or two.
Kitty’s head buzzed when she woke up the next morning. She sat up in bed for a moment, concentrating, until the events of the previous evening caught up with her. Hen must have come in quietly, because Kitty hadn’t heard a thing. Then again, the way Kitty had laid waste to the rum, Hen probably could have come in with a marching band and Kitty still would have slept through it.
She downed a glass of water and threw on a dress to take Loco out. When she came back in, Hen was sitting on the couch talking on the phone.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t call until now, but really, Charles,” Hen said. “I don’t understand why you’re upset about a simple card game with a married couple.” She paused. “Of course that’s what I was doing. The musicians?” Hen blushed, no doubt thinking about the evening at Marcela’s. “That’s ridiculous. They weren’t there. No, I’m not saying you’re ridiculous.”
Kitty sat on the ottoman near the window, unsure if Hen would want support or to be left alone. Hen’s casual tone gave Kitty hope. One false accusation wouldn’t be enough to make Hen give Charles a piece of her mind, but the fact that Hen didn’t sound apologetic might mean she was finally reaching her breaking point with Charles. Hen turned to Kitty with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow that made Kitty stifle a laugh.
“If you’re going to be this way, I don’t think I can talk to you. You’re not ridiculous, but you are being awfully silly. I’ll call you later,” Hen said. Kitty could hear the voice on the other end of the line grow quieter. “Okay. I love you, too.”
Perhaps the distance from Charles had made Hen somewhat bolder, but the loving good-bye wasn’t what Kitty had hoped to hear. She was also less than enthusiastic to see Hen’s sardonic cocked eyebrow wilt when she hung up the phone.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into him,” Hen said. “He’s gotten some crazy notion in his head that we’re running around all night with the band. You didn’t talk to him, did you?”
“I did, but I told him you would call,” Kitty said, close enough to the truth for her own comfort.
“And now I wish I hadn’t.” Hen stood, fluffing her hair. “I’m sure he just misses me, that’s all. Men are so funny.”
“I’m sure that’s it,” Kitty said, not wanting any lack of encouragement on her part to make Hen question what Kitty had really said on the phone to Charles. “Why don’t we go to the salon today? Gonna wash that man right outta my hair…” She sashayed toward Hen.
Hen inspected the ends of her hair. “You said the magic words. I’m overdue.”
Kitty piled Hen’s curls on top of her head and turned her toward the mirror. “Maybe it’s time you got a short cut, like me.”
Hen swatted her. “You know Mother would skin me if I came home with anything above my chin.”
“Permanent wave, maybe?” Kitty teased. “Nice bright color rinse?”
“Not a chance,” Hen called over her shoulder, heading to get dressed. “I could do with a set and style, though.”
Kitty phoned the concierge for the name of the best salon, but the concierge said he would arrange for an appointment and a car, so Kitty wouldn’t have to spend her whole morning calling around town. She agreed to be downstairs with Hen at eleven o’clock to head to the appointment.
In the car, Hen maintained her livelier demeanor, but by the time she sat under the dryer, her expression had noticeably dimmed. The buzz of the fans made it impossible for Kitty to strike up any conversation, so she had to wait until they were in side-by-side chairs in front of the mirror getting the finishing touches on their styles.
“Guess you didn’t wash him all the way out, huh?” Kitty asked.
“It’s not that easy,” Hen said with a sigh.
“You said it yourself. Men are just funny. I wish you wouldn’t let it ruin your good time.” Kitty glanced at the hairdresser out of the corner of her eye, but the woman was wholly engrossed in her work. “You are having a good time, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes. It’s been such fun.” Hen stared at her reflection for a beat. “I just don’t know why he’d get so upset over a card game.”
“He’s not,” Kitty said with authority. “And you have every right to have fun, even if it’s not with him.”
“You’re right,” Hen said, but her brow was still creased with worry. Kitty resolved to distract Hen any time she suspected her friend was ruminating about Charles.
That evening, freshly coiffed, the girls met Andre for dinner in the club. They had debated going out on their own, but Hen pointed out that Andre had said how much he enjoyed their company on those nights when he couldn’t get away. Kitty was secretly glad for the excuse to go to the club. She wanted to see Max and make sure no awkwardness lingered around his visit. Her concern, she finally managed to reassure herself, was due to his vital role in preventing a decisive overture on Andre’s part. She would never care otherwise what a guy like that thought of her.
Andre’s wide eyes when he saw them confirmed the success of their trip to the salon. He greeted them with the now-standard kiss on the cheek, then stood back to admire them.
“You two get prettier every time I see you,” he said.
“Must be that ocean air,” Kitty said.
“Thank you, Andre,” Hen said as he pulled out her chair.
Kitty looked around the room. “Is the band here yet?”
“Not yet. Why?”
“Well, I was thinking, it’s a shame we haven’t really thanked the band yet. Max and Sebastian were so kind to bring Loco down on the bus with them.” Kitty turned to Hen. “What would you say to inviting the band up after they play? It can’t have been easy to ride all that way with a dog. I thought it would make a nice thank-you.”
Of course, Kitty hadn’t been thinking anything of the sort. But the sudden idea seemed like a nice way of testing the waters with Max without chancing anyone discovering their time alone. She could at least trust that Hen’s polite nature would prevent her from objecting to the invitation, but Hen’s tight lips said she knew Kitty too well to credit the idea to altruism. Andre, on the other hand, didn’t know Kitty quite well enough.
“That’s a fantastic idea,” he cried. “A real party, the boys will love that. I’ll get the bar to send up drinks. The guys in the kitchen should be able to throw some snacks together, too.” He also turned to Hen. “That is, if you’re sure you don’t mind them coming up to where you’re staying. They’re good boys, really. They won’t get into anything they shouldn’t.”
“If you can vouch for them, then why not?” Hen said. “Such a generous offer, Kitty.”
Kitty flashed her a confident smile. “Thank you, doll.”
As soon as Andre left the table to make the arrangements, Hen scowled. “What’s all this really about?”
Kitty pouted, trying to look innocent. “Why? Don’t you think it’s a nice idea? Sounds like something you’d come up with yourself.”
“You want to know what I think?” Hen leaned in and lowered her vo
ice. “I think you like the attention from Max. It’s one thing to have a little fun, but it’s not nice to lead him on when you can’t be with a guy like that.”
“Oh, please.” Kitty reached for her cigarette case. “Because we had one low-rent lunch you think I’m leading him on? I’d hope it would take a little more than that.”
Hen said nothing more, but her eyes were locked on Kitty when the band finally did start filing in. Kitty waved at Sebastian, who nodded back.
“Now, just so you know,” she said, leaning in to Hen. “That was an innocent wave.”
Hen cut her gaze toward Andre, who was chatting with the waiter. “Your father thinks you’re here to get to know Andre better,” she whispered. “That’s not happening so far. I’ve spent more time with him than you have. You’re going to end up cleaning toilets and mopping floors if you don’t straighten up.”
“How do you know inviting them up isn’t so I can spend some time with Andre, hmmm?” Kitty said, keeping her own voice low.
“Because you wouldn’t have to invite the whole band. You could just invite him.”
“And then it would be the three of us, like it is practically every night at dinner.” She laid a hand on Hen’s. “Don’t worry. There’s no way I’ll end up mopping floors. I’ve got it all figured out, I promise.”
Max stepped up to the microphone. He introduced the band and, to her surprise, sat down at the piano.
“I hope it’s all right with you good people,” he said. “We’re going to start it off a little different tonight.” He played a few notes. “A little slower. But don’t worry—we’ll heat this place up in no time.”
Applause rounded the room as he began to play. Kitty knew the tune sounded familiar, but a few bars weren’t enough to clue her in. It was only when Sebastian began singing that she recognized the song. Her stomach flipped. Max joined in on the last line: “The best thing for you would be me.”
Kitty was grateful for the low lighting, certain her expression would contradict everything she’d just denied to Hen. Maybe Max and Kitty had ended the previous night on better terms than she’d realized.
After the dinner plates had been cleared, Andre went to the kitchen to get the snack order arranged for the party. The girls debated going up to change clothes but decided to stay and have another drink. The waiter brought their drinks over, then pointed out two men standing near the bar.
“Those gentlemen have already paid for your order, with their compliments,” he said.
“Well, that’s silly,” Kitty said. “Didn’t you tell them our drinks are already on the hotel’s account?”
“I tried to, but they insisted.” He shrugged. “Enjoy.”
“Some people,” Kitty said to Hen as the waiter walked away. “Didn’t they see Andre sitting with us not ten minutes ago? Pretty presumptuous if you ask me.”
“You’re not interested in dancing?” Hen asked. “This is the first I’ve heard that you don’t like it when a man buys you a drink.”
Kitty bristled. “Depends on the guy, doesn’t it? Anyone who’s dumb enough to buy a drink that was free in the first place doesn’t deserve a dance.”
The men, as she’d expected, made their way toward the booth. They had the same stiff waves in their hair, testifying that they’d overapplied Brylcreem in the hopes of looking smooth. The blond one spoke first. He looked barely old enough to walk in the door of the club.
“Hi, ladies. We were hoping we could tempt you to dance,” he said, running a hand through his hair. Kitty waited patiently as he attempted to find a surreptitious way to wipe the styling cream on his trousers.
“Thank you for the drink,” Hen said, “but we’re not dancing tonight.”
The dark-haired guy’s brow wrinkled. His bloodshot eyes indicated he might have been hitting the bar harder than his friend. “But we bought you drinks. Now, is that any way to treat a guy?”
“She said ‘thank you,’ ” Kitty said. She flashed him a bright smile, but her tone was an ice pick. “She’s engaged, and I’m with someone. No dance.”
“Aw, come on,” the dark-haired one said. “You’re not gonna get in trouble for one little dance.” He reached out to grab Hen’s arm, but Kitty stood between them to block him.
“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked.
“Listen,” she said. “Think of it this way. You see a nice car parked on the street. You might admire it, right? Compliment the driver.”
The dark-haired guy frowned deeply. “What are you getting at?”
Kitty took another step toward him. “You don’t get to hop in and drive off.” She took a long drink from the glass and handed it to him. “No matter how much you like the car. Get lost, fellas.”
She sat back at the booth, leaving both men dumbstruck. At last, they turned to go, the dark-haired boy still clutching Kitty’s half-finished drink.
Hen clucked her tongue. “You’re still the best at that.”
Kitty flexed her bicep playfully. “It’s been a while since I had the exercise. Honestly, some guys get a few drinks in them and think they own the world.”
“Come on, strongman. We’d better get upstairs and make sure we don’t have any unmentionables lying around.”
Upstairs, Kitty retrieved Loco and took her downstairs for a quick walk. The night was clear and just cool enough to take the edge off the humidity. Across the street from the hotel, the late-night crew of a store was hanging garland and tinsel. The warm days had nearly made Kitty forget that Christmas was on its way. With a pang of guilt, she thought of her father. He always relied on her to decorate their suite, and it would likely remain undecorated in her absence. Perhaps she could call the housekeeper to ask her to put up a tree or hang the wreath. He ought to have a little taste of the holiday to surprise him. She had to admit to herself that she hadn’t called him as often as she’d meant to. Her good intentions always seemed to get derailed by her affairs in Miami. She made a mental note to call him the next morning and remind him to arrange his trip down for the holiday. He’d certainly want to be with her at Christmas.
When she returned to the suite, she put Loco in her room and freshened up her makeup. Andre arrived a little while later, joined by two waiters who laid out food on the banquette.
“Just a few things,” he said. “They were busy in the kitchen, and I didn’t want to burden them.”
“It looks great,” Kitty said. There were some cold cuts, small sandwiches, and sliced vegetables. She imagined most of it came from room service odds and ends, but the cooks had arranged it all to look nice. Andre deposited a few bottles on the bar cart as the waiters left the suite.
“Oh, you’ve already got rum,” he said.
“When did you get that?” Hen asked.
Kitty waved a hand. “The other night, when you were out. Thought I’d try my hand at those rum cocktails they like so much down here.”
“Looks like you tried several hands,” Andre said, holding up the half-empty bottle.
“The first few came out wrong,” Kitty lied. “Undrinkable. Had to toss them.”
“I guess I’ll let Andre make mine,” Hen said. “Would you mind?”
About half the musicians came up shortly after Andre arrived, with the other half sending their apologies and heading home to their families. The ones who came had sweat-sticky hair and droopy lids, but they all smiled and thanked Kitty for the offer of a drink and food on her.
“I’m just so glad you all agreed to let Loco ride down on the bus with you,” she said. “I would have been sad to leave her for so long.”
“Say, where is Loco?” asked Billy, the trombonist.
“She’s gone to bed,” Kitty said. “Too much excitement for her.” She was touched that he looked disappointed.
Max caught Kitty’s eye. She instinctively glanced to Hen, who was trying to g
et the record player working. Andre stood and offered to help her. The other musicians were distracted by the food, including Sebastian. Kitty pointed discreetly to the entryway, and Max followed her over.
“What did you think of the playlist?” he asked.
“It’s risky to start with a slow song, don’t you think?”
“I think I’m willing to take a risk,” he said.
She held out a hand, and he laced his strong, callused fingers with hers. Hen called Kitty from the living room, and they broke apart. Max let out a nervous laugh. She went first back into the living room, flushed and light-headed.
“Sorry, I was showing Max where to hang up his jacket,” she said, watching from the corner of her eye to be sure he heard her. He obliged, opening the closet door, and she crossed the room to Hen. “What’s up?”
“We can’t figure this thing out,” Hen said. “It’s not like the one you have at home.”
Kitty got the record player going, and soon the music joined the conversation that filled the suite. She almost didn’t hear the phone ring over the noise. When she realized it was ringing, she sprinted to her room to catch it, assuming only her father would call so late. She was delighted to find it was Charles instead. He may be a rat, she thought, but he’s got impeccable timing.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, after they exchanged greetings. “Hen’s busy at the moment.” She shifted to be closer to the door, cracking it a little and angling the phone toward the racket from the living room.
“Busy doing what? I was afraid I’d wake you.”
“We’re having people over.”
“What people?”
“Andre and one or two of the musicians from the club.”
“Again?”
“Charles,” she said, in her sweetest tone, “these people work for me. It’s not what you’d call a social visit. I’m throwing them a little thank-you party for all their efforts. It pays to keep the talent happy in this business.”
“Well, I’m sure she’ll want to speak to me. Call her in, please.”