Lady Be Good

by Amber Brock

  Sebastian’s features relaxed. “Ah, well. I think you’ll enjoy that.”

  “How long will you be gone?” Max asked.

  “We leave Thursday, and we’ll be back on Sunday,” Kitty said.

  “You know,” Max said, turning to Sebastian. “You haven’t been home in a while. Why don’t you take a long weekend? It’s nearly Christmas.”

  “I…” Sebastian looked askance at Max. “Hmm. I hadn’t thought about that. It’s not a bad idea.”

  “And I could go with you. I’d love to see your family again,” Max added.

  A bubble of excitement welled in Kitty’s chest. His eagerness could only mean she had him exactly where she wanted him. “What a swell idea! I was going to ask you for recommendations of places to visit. You could just show us yourself.”

  Now Sebastian’s gaze darted from Max to Kitty and back again, his brow furrowing. “Do you really think we could get a weekend off?”

  “It’s probably the last chance we’ll get before the holidays,” Max said. “We can have Dave and Roger from the fill-in band take our places.”

  “My mother would love for me to visit,” Sebastian said. He pressed his lips together in thought. “Okay. If we can get Dave and Roger—”

  “I’ll take care of all of that,” Max said. “Let’s go talk to Andre.” He threw an arm over Sebastian’s shoulder and they headed over to where Andre had rejoined Hen at the table. Before Sebastian had a chance to speak, Max spilled out the request. Andre agreed it would be fine, if they could cover their spots in the band.

  “And now you’ve got your local guide,” he said to Kitty. Sebastian and Max both looked at her.

  “Well, I thought Sebastian might tell us which places we couldn’t miss seeing,” she explained. “Now he can be the one to take us.”

  Kitty waited until the others were preoccupied with good nights to slide her clutch purse into the seat of her chair. She tugged on Max’s sleeve and gestured to the bag with a flick of her hand. He nodded. She linked her arm in Hen’s, and the two girls headed for the elevator.

  “Oh, dear,” Kitty said when the door dinged. “I’ve left my bag. You go on up. I’m right behind you.”

  “Are you sure?” Hen asked.

  “Yes. Won’t be a moment.” Kitty’s heels clacked on the floor of the lobby as she strode back toward the club. Max waited around the corner, bag in hand.

  “Clever.” He held the bag out to her.

  “Do you know the patio on the side of the main entrance?” she whispered, concerned that Sebastian or Andre could walk out at any moment and foil her plan.

  “Yeah.”

  “Is it usually empty?”

  “At night, sure.”

  “Good. Meet me there in twenty minutes.”

  He nodded, and she skipped away again. She went up to the suite to find Hen waiting on the couch in the living room. Kitty waved the purse.

  “Found it. Now I’ve just got to take Loco out one more time before bed.”

  “Want some company?” Hen asked, stifling a yawn.

  “No, you go on to bed. Good night.” Kitty clipped the leash on Loco and went back downstairs.

  Finding the break in the hedges was a little more difficult in the dark, but Kitty stepped onto the patio to find Max waiting. She let Loco sniff around the trees at the edge of the concrete.

  “What did you want to meet here for?” he asked.

  “I thought this would be somewhere we could come to talk without everyone around. Easier than leaving my purse behind any time I want to chat.”

  He smiled. “So what do you want to chat about now?”

  “Havana.”

  “So you like my idea, huh?”

  “Couldn’t stand the thought of me off in an island paradise without you?” she asked.

  “Didn’t want to miss a minute of the fun.”

  “Have you been to Havana?”

  “Once. But we went to visit Sebastian’s family, and we didn’t have the money to go near the Nacional.”

  Kitty paused. “I’m glad you’re going.”

  “I’m glad to be going.”

  Loco padded back over and sat at Kitty’s feet, looking up expectantly. Kitty clipped the leash back on. “I guess I’d better get to bed. So, this can be our place?”

  “Sure,” he said. “But I guess the next time we see each other, we’ll be in Havana.”

  “Then I’ll see you in Havana.”

  Kitty couldn’t help but notice that Hen fretted more than usual about her packing for the trip, which had started three days before their flight. She’d put a dress in, only to yank it out two minutes later. Bathing suit selection was a protracted agony until Kitty finally recommended packing all three.

  “Pack the suitcase all the way,” she said, shoving a romper in on top. “Fill it up. Who cares if it’s heavy? You won’t have to carry it. Pack two suitcases. Take one of mine. But please, let’s finish this in time to actually go on the trip.”

  Hen sat down on the bed and heaved a sigh. “He hasn’t called.”

  Kitty inspected her nail polish, unwilling to look at Hen. “That could be a good sign. Maybe he knows he was wrong to blow up at you, and he’s ashamed of how he acted.”

  “You’re sweet to say so, but I’d bet that’s not it.”

  “Well, you didn’t want to talk to him anyway, did you?”

  “Was that him the other night when the band was here?” Hen blinked up at Kitty. “I heard the phone ring. I didn’t want to ask, because…”

  “It was a wrong number.” Kitty held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor. Now, can we get excited about this trip? And can we finish your packing so we don’t miss our flight?”

  “When are Max and Sebastian getting there?” Hen asked. She stood and crossed to her jewelry case to begin sorting what she wanted to take.

  “This afternoon. They left yesterday to drive to Key West, and they’re taking a ferry from there.” Kitty selected a scarf from the drawer and put it in Hen’s suitcase.

  “That sounds like fun.”

  “That sounds like a long trip,” Kitty said. “Once they get there, they’re going to Sebastian’s cousin’s place in Havana to get Max settled in, and then Sebastian’s heading out of the city to visit his mother.”

  “You know, it sure is funny how eager Max is to come with us.” Hen sidled up to Kitty, who kept her eyes on packing.

  “You know I’m not interested in some skint musician.”

  “He is handsome, though.”

  “Hmm, do you think so?”

  “And a good dancer.”

  “Are you trying to sell him to me?”

  “Not at all. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you sometimes.” Hen pulled the lid of the suitcase down. “I think he’s got it bad. I’m not going to lecture you. But you should let him down easy, if it comes to that.”

  “I can’t help it if I have a certain effect on men.” Even if Hen did think Max was good-looking, there was no way she would approve if she knew how much time Kitty had already given Max. Max liking her was one thing. Returning his affections would be something else entirely. She pressed on the top of the not-quite-closed suitcase, hoping to distract Hen with a more immediate issue. “I think we’re going to have to sit on this thing.”

  Hen hopped onto the suitcase, and Kitty closed the latches. “Leave it on the bed,” Kitty continued. “We’ll get the bellhop to bring it down.”

  “Want to do yours?” Hen asked.

  “Mine was packed yesterday. Should I call down? Andre wanted us to meet him at eleven, I think.” Kitty took a step toward the phone, but Hen caught her arm.

  “Tell me the truth,” Hen said. “Have you thought about Andre at all?”

  Kitty searched Hen’s face, which was suddenly tight
with worry. “Of course not. He’s not my type. The birds and bridge games just confirmed it. But I thought you knew I had a plan for that. You’re not worried about me and Papa, are you?”

  Hen let go of Kitty. “I was only wondering if anything had changed, even a little bit.”

  “No, and I doubt anything will change. Now, come on. Let’s get downstairs. And maybe we’ll get you a cocktail on the plane. You’re nervous today.”

  Kitty called down to the bellhop to get their bags. She made a second call to the maid she’d entrusted with Loco’s care. Andre had singled the girl out as particularly trustworthy and kind. Kitty had sweetened the deal with some extra cash—half payment before the trip, half after. She reminded the maid that the money was in the envelope on the television. With that important matter settled, Kitty and Hen were off to Havana.

  * * *

  The drive from the Rancho Boyeros Airport to the Hotel Nacional seemed to take nearly as long as the flight from Miami to Cuba. Kitty shifted in her seat, unsticking her legs from the vinyl. And she’d thought the Miami temperatures were warm for winter. Beside Kitty, Hen dozed with her head against the window.

  They drove through neighborhoods with people on porches and past parks full of children. The ubiquitous pastel stucco did not do much to differentiate the country from Miami at first, but Kitty still sensed a difference she couldn’t quite name. At last, when they reached the area the driver called “Habana Vieja,” the difference was more acute. This part of Havana simply looked much older than Miami, like the postcards Hen would send Kitty from Europe. She spotted wrought iron and intricate stonework that gave some of the buildings the look of castles. That must be it, she thought. It’s that old-world feel. Papa would love this. He ought to have come too. It would have been the perfect opportunity for them to see each other. Why didn’t he come? Why send Andre?

  She didn’t have long to pursue that line of thought. They turned one corner, and the ocean suddenly appeared on the left side of the car. All along the shore, people sat on a wall, chatting and looking out at the sea. They seemed not to mind the occasional leap of spray that rose up to meet them. Kitty rolled down her window, and a few salty drops carried on the breeze landed on her cheeks.

  “That is the Malecón,” the driver explained. “And over there, beyond, the faro—lighthouse. Very famous.”

  An enormous ivory building loomed on their right. The structure was topped with what looked like two large crowns, and surrounded by palms and lush greenery. “What is that?” Kitty cried.

  The driver laughed. “That is the Nacional.”

  “That’s our hotel,” Andre added.

  They pulled into the roundabout, which was nestled between the building’s two arms. Kitty was out of the car practically before it stopped moving. People bustled through the entrance, all dressed like they were going to a Harper’s Bazaar cover shoot instead of to lunch. Kitty caught a few words of Spanish, some French…was that Italian? She hooked her arm through Hen’s and dragged her tired friend inside.

  If the outside was stunning and sunny, the inside was pure elegance. Their heels clicked against bronze-colored tiles as they walked along the hallway, which had arches on either side. Dark wooden beams overhead added to a sense of grandeur. As Andre spoke to the clerk at reception, Kitty inspected the brightly colored Spanish tile and a marble statue. After a short conversation, Andre turned around with two keys in his outstretched hand.

  “You girls will be neighbors,” he said. “Sorry, they didn’t have a suite on such short notice. I’ll be a floor below.”

  Kitty took her key. “That’s all right. I can’t imagine we’ll be spending that much time in our rooms.”

  “It really is beautiful,” Hen said. “Reminds me of Spain.”

  The bellhop stepped out to load their bags onto a cart, and the group followed him to the elevators. Andre got off on his floor, waving off an offer of help with his bags. He slipped a few pesos to the bellhop, and the girls agreed to meet him downstairs in an hour to go to lunch. The man rode up with Kitty and Hen and placed their suitcases in their rooms.

  The décor in Kitty’s room was far warmer than that in her room in the Imperium, with thick, heavy curtains that she supposed helped to keep the heat out. When she slid them aside, she discovered that her room looked out over the Havana Harbor, complete with the lighthouse the cabbie had pointed out. Kitty rushed to change, so she could catch Hen before she got tempted to lie down for a nap. The cocktail on the flight had relaxed Hen a little too much, and Kitty didn’t want to waste a second of their time in Havana.

  An hour later, they were back in the sumptuous lobby, ready for a late lunch. Andre led them down the street to an outdoor café, where they sat in the shade of a massive umbrella. In halting Spanish, Andre ordered daiquiris for the girls and, for himself, a beer that came out in a bottle the size of his head.

  “Guess you’re supposed to share this, huh?” he said, accepting a glass from the waiter.

  Kitty lit a cigarette and craned her neck to read the menu from a hand-painted sign. “Do you think they speak English here?” she whispered to Hen. “I can’t tell what’s what.”

  “Have you decided what you’d like to eat?” the waiter said.

  “That settles that,” Hen whispered to Kitty.

  “We’ve heard the seafood is good here. What do you have today?” Andre asked.

  “Our specialty is the camarones enchilados,” the waiter said.

  “Then bring us that.” Andre smiled at the girls.

  Kitty pursed her lips but waited until the server had walked away to say, “That shows a lot of confidence. Do you even know what that means? It could be fried rat.”

  “Rat isn’t a seafood, Kitty,” he said dryly, taking a sip of beer.

  Camarones enchilados turned out to be a seafood stew that Kitty enjoyed so much, she sopped up the last drops with the crusty bread that came on the side. It was served with something that looked like banana slices, but when Kitty tasted them they were salty and much richer than any banana. The waiter pronounced it carefully for her, assuring her that they could be found in most restaurants in Havana.

  “I have to have them again,” Kitty said. “Tos-ton-es.”

  “Very good,” the waiter said, collecting her plates.

  “Well, Spanish isn’t so hard after all,” she said.

  “Learning one word rarely is,” Hen said.

  “I know more than one word.” Kitty pointed to Andre’s beer bottle. “Cerveza. Daiquiri. I’m pretty sure that’s all I need.”

  “You won’t go thirsty, I guess,” Hen said.

  Andre stood. “Time for me to get to work. Ready to go back to the hotel?”

  “We aren’t going to the casinos with you?” Kitty asked.

  “I’ve got a meeting right now—nothing that would interest you. I’ll take you around tomorrow. Why don’t you two go and enjoy the hotel pool? You can rent a cabana.” He checked his watch. “Wasn’t Sebastian going to call soon anyway to make plans for tonight?”

  “Oh, that’s right. We’d better hurry.” Kitty grabbed her purse, and the group went to the corner to hail a cab.

  Back in their rooms, Kitty and Hen put on bathing suits. The phone rang shortly after.

  “Miss Tessler? You have a call from a Mr. Armenteros. Will you accept?” a desk clerk asked.

  “Yes,” Kitty said. A moment later the line lit up with static that crackled over Sebastian’s voice.

  “Hello,” he said, his voice bright. “How do you like Cuba?”

  “The first few hours have been swell,” Kitty said. “How was your trip?”

  “Good, very easy travel.”

  “Where are you now?”

  “At my cousin’s apartment. I’m driving to my mother’s house tomorrow, but I can go out with you tonight. Max says he would like
to stay in Havana, so he will be here all day tomorrow.”

  “Wonderful. Where should we meet you?”

  “Where all Havana meets—at the Malecón. Can you be there at seven o’clock?”

  “Sure. We’ll see you then.”

  Kitty and Hen went down to the pool with a stack of brochures from the concierge. Though each brightly colored advertisement promised Cuba’s finest entertainments, Kitty could only focus on the Tropicana.

  “It’s brand new, with huge glass arcs in the ceiling that make it look like you’re outside. And they have fruit trees growing indoors.” She jabbed the brochure with a finger. “It’s air-conditioned.”

  Hen fanned herself with one of the flyers Kitty had discarded. “That sounds good right about now.”

  “And look at the costumes. This looks like the real Cuba to me.”

  “I’m sure Sebastian will take us wherever we want to go,” Hen said, idly kicking her feet in the pool’s turquoise water.

  Kitty set down the brochure. “Are you all right?”

  “I wonder if I ought to call Charles. Won’t he worry if he doesn’t hear from me?” Hen’s red cheeks had nothing to do with the heat.

  “He can always call your mother if he’s worried,” Kitty said firmly. “Calling him now would only bring the whole argument up again. Why don’t you take this trip to relax and forget about—” She nearly said him, but caught herself. “Forget about what he said. Then the next time you two talk, you’ll be calmer, and it will calm him down.”

  “That’s sensible,” Hen said, her expression already more relaxed.

  Kitty nodded. “Now, on to more important business. What do we wear out on our first night in Havana?”

  Kitty and Hen swept out of the hotel that evening dressed to the nines. Even Hen had put in her best effort, with a daring lime-green halter dress. Kitty had opted for what she hoped would be a more local look, wearing a tight yellow skirt and a black ruffled blouse. The warm salt air pulled them toward the Malecón. There were already groups of people gathered in the twilight, some dressed for a night out, others in uniforms that suggested they had come straight from a shift at a nearby hotel or restaurant. Kitty and Hen passed a fruit vendor, who glanced up from his wares to offer a whistle of approval. Hen flinched, but Kitty just laughed.