"Yes. ma'am."
"Oh. I just love that polite talk, don't you. Ice?"
Shawn smiled and looked at me. Mama waited for me to say something and then sucked in her breath with disappointment and went for the coat.
"Your mother's real nice," Shawn said. I stood up.
"You know my sister?" he asked.
I shook my head and muttered. 'Not really."
He nodded. His struggle to find the right words, or any words, was clearly visible on his face, especially in his eyes. He didn't want to look at me unless he had something to say. He kept his gaze low, nodding slightly as if his head was on a spring.
"You're in the twelfth grade, a high-school senior?" he asked. I nodded.
"You look older," he said and then quickly added. 'not old, just older."
I stared at him, wondering how he could have ever thought I'd think he meant old.
"Here we are," Mama cried bringing me her coat. She held it out and Shawn practically lunged to take it from her and help me on with it. Mama stood by beaming her approval.
"Oh wait," she cried. 'Before you put that on her. I want a picture of you two."
I raised my eyes toward the ceiling.
"Fine with me." Shawn said. "Put me down for two copies. One goes right on my locker at the barracks."
Mama laughed and picked up her camera that she had placed on a table in the living room in anticipation.
"Just stand over there," she nodded a bit to our right. "Go on and put your arm around her. Shawn. She won't break," Mama advised.
I closed my eyes and bit down on my lower lip. His arm went over my shoulder and his big hand closed on my upper arm, pulling me closer to him.
"You can smile better than that. honey," Mama said. "Shawn here has a nice smile."
I forced my lips to turn and curl and she snapped the photo. "One more." she said. "Just in case."
When that was over. I stepped forward out of Shawn's embrace and reached again for Mama's coat. He hurried to help me on with it.
"Well, thank you. Mrs. Goodman," Shawn said. "I'll show her a good time."
"I'm sure you will. Shawn. Don't be too late now," Mama called as we headed for the door.
"No ma'am," Shawn replied, but what did that mean? What was too late? Daddy would have been more definite. I thought.
"Have a really good time. Ice. honey." Mama called before the door closed behind us.
"We will," Shawn promised. He looked at me. "Okay, let's go burn up the town. huh?"
I started for the elevator and he took my hand. He grabbed it so quickly and firmly, he startled me for a moment. Then he pushed the button for the elevator.
"You grow up here?" he asked as the door opened. I nodded.
"Me too. I didn't finish high school, though. I decided to take that program the army has where you finish your diploma while you're in the service. I got started late in school," he explained. '"My mother traveled around a lot with us before she settled in Philly. When I was fourteen, she took off with some computer salesman and left Louella and me. Louella had already gotten a good job so we were able to take care of ourselves," he continued.
As the elevator descended, he seemed determined not to let a moment of silence occur.
"I asked my sister how come your mother named you Ice and she said it was because you're a cool cat. Is that true?" he asked.
"No." I said and stepped into the lobby.
"Well. why'd she call you that then?"
I shrugged and he opened the front door. It was colder than I had expected. I closed the coat and held the collar tightly shut, waiting for him to direct me to his car. All I saw at the curb was a pickup truck with a cab over the back. I turned to him.
"I borrowed my friend Chipper's truck. My sister doesn't have a car and I haven't gotten around to getting2 one of my own vet."
We walked to the truck and he opened the door for me. When I got in. I smelled what I was sure was whiskey. The seat was torn in the middle and looked very ratty. I hoped there was nothing on it that would stain my new outfit. I saw a wrench on the floor and had to push it out of my way with my feet. He got in and started the engine.
"Here we go," he said. When he pulled from the curb, an empty beer can came rolling out from under the seat.
"Chipper ain't much of a housekeeper," he told me. "So, you ever hear of the Kit-Kat?"
I shook my head.
"They'll be checking IDs at the door." he said. "I'm only seventeen."
"That's all right. Don't worry. We know the guy doing it. He's a friend of miners brother. Besides, you look at least twenty. There's cigarettes in the glove compartment if you want one," he added nodding at it.
I shook my head.
"You don't smoke? That's good, I only smoke once in a while. Cigarettes, that is," he added laughing. "So. I bet you go out a lot. huh?"
I didn't know whether to tell him the truth or not. If I did, he would probably assume he was important and I knew instinctively that I didn't want him thinking that.
"A girl like you has to be popular. Not only are you good-looking but, from what Lauda tells me, you're a singer, too. Where did you do your singing so far?"
"Chorus," I said.
"Chorus? That's it?" He laughed. "Hell. I was in chorus, too. but I'd never call me a singer."
He kept talking, describing his experiences at boot camp, the new friends he had made, the drill instructor he hated, and where he hoped he would be stationed someday.
Finally, he turned to me and smiled.
"My sister warned me you don't talk much. Why is that, if you have such a nice voice?"
"I talk when I have something to say." I told him. He laughed.
"You'd fit right in at boot camp. My instructor is always shouting. 'Keep your hole closed unless I tell you to open it.' He gave Dickie Stieglitz KP for a week because he was mumbling complaints under his breath when we were in formation. The guy has radar for ears or something. He don't even have to be nearby to hear you.
"Hey, I'm going to get hoarse in the throat doing all the talking. Can't you tell me anything about yourself?"
"I like jazz," I offered.
"Great. Great. We're going to have a good old time of it. What's your drink?" he asked when we parked in a lot across from the nightclub. "Vodka? Gin? Beer?"
I shook my head.
"Bourbon, rye. what?"
"I don't drink." I said.
"Sure you don't," he replied with a laugh. "Hey, don't worry. I don't tell my sister about my dates, if that's what's troubling you. Your mother's not going to know anything from these lips," he promised.
I didn't say anything, so he opened his door and got out. Now that we were away from Mama's eyes, he didn't come around to open my door for me. Gone were the "Yes, ma'ams" and "No, ma'ams," too. I noticed.
When we stepped into the club, his friend checking IDs looked me over from head to toe, nodding with a smile so sly and licentious he made me feel naked.
"Nice," he told Shawn, "You're late," he continued. "Everyone got here already in your party,"
"We'll make up for it," Shawn told him and ushered me into the club.
Right off the entrance to the right was a long bar with tinsel over the mirrors that made it look like Christmas. The stools were all occupied and the bartender was so busy, he could barely raise his head. I noticed that the men were dressed well, jackets and ties, and most of the women were wearing expensivelooking clothes, too.
On a small stage, a five-piece jazz combo played a Duke Ellington number I recognized. Shawn led me down the aisle to a table in the front at which three other young men in army uniforms sat with three girls-- all looked years older than I was. The moment the men saw us, they started shouting and laughing, which I thought was impolite, considering people around them were enjoying the music. Of course, that drew a great deal of attention to us, especially to me.
"Where the hell you been? We thought you went AWOL on us.," the tall, red-headed young
man on the right cried. The girl with him looked unhappy, almost in pain. She had very short, dark hair and a mouth so soft, the lower lip looked like it was unhinged in the corners.
"Had to do the please-the-parent-thing first," Shawn explained. "This here's Ice, Ice meet Michael," he said nodding at the tall, red-headed man. "Buzz-y." he added pointing to a stocky African-American man who looked older than everyone else. -.and Sonny," he continued.
Sonny looked the youngest. He had a caramel complexion with dark freckles peppered on his cheeks and forehead.
They all said. "Hi," and then Michael
introduced the other girls. The one with him was Jeanie and the one with Buzzy was Bernice. She was stout and big busted with light brown hair that not only was the color of straw, but looked like it had the texture of it grass.
He paused before introducing the girl with Sonny and said. "What was your name again. honey?"
Dolores," she said, very annoyed that he didn't remember. She looked Latin. maybe Mexican. I thought she was the prettiest of the three because of the dazzling color of her dark eves that flashed when she showed her temper. She got over it quickly, however, and continued moving in her chair, enjoying the music. "When are we going to stop all this talking and dance?" she cried.
"Sonny, get up and dance with the girl, will you?" Michael said. "Her engine's been running at high speed all this time and you're in park."
They all laughed.
Shawn took my coat off and put it over my chair. All of his friends stared at me as hard as the one at the club's entrance. It made me wonder if I had done something wrong. Mama had insisted on my wearing one of those wonder bras. I know I was showing a lot more cleavage than I would have liked.
I sat and Shawn quickly ordered a gin and tonic for himself and then looked at me and said. "Give her the same."
I didn't say no. but I thought I wouldn't drink it if I didn't like it.
"Why are you called Ice?" Buzzy asked leaning over the table, "You don't look cold to me."
They all laughed again, even Jeanie who seemed incapable of smiling. "She's not cold," Shawn said. "She's cool."
"Ice, you can dip your finger in my drink anytime." Sonny quipped. They all laughed again.
"How long you know this work of art?" Michael asked me indicating Shawn.
I thought a moment.
"Twenty minutes." I replied and he roared and told everyone else what I had said. That seemed to be the funniest thing they had heard their whole lives. I thought the laughter wouldn't end.
The music stopped and the audience applauded. Our drinks came and Shawn nearly finished his in a single gulp.
"I needed that," he said. "Meeting a mother always makes me thirsty."
"I bet you've met a few," Buzz said. "Are you from Philly?" he asked me.
I nodded. There was so much noise in the club, you had to shout to be heard and I knew what that would do to my throat in short order.
"You know how dangerous this guy is that you're with?" Michael kidded.
I shrugged.
"His life story is X-rated."
"You're right," Buzzy said after more laughter. "She's cool. She doesn't look a bit worried, Shawn. In fact. I think you'd better start worrying."
The music began again.
"You like this music, Ice?" Sonny asked. grimacing.
"She loves it," Shawn said. "She's a jazz-aholic."
"Sure," Michael said. "You know this one?" he asked nodding at the band.
I smiled.
"It's a Benny Goodman tune," I said, They all turned to me. "Called 'After Awhile,' It's about 1929," I told them. Their mouths opened, jaws dropped.
"She's kidding. right?" Buzzy asked Shawn. He shook his head.
"Her mother said she's into it and guess what," he added, "she sings, too,"
"No. All this and talented too?" Michael cried. The other girls looked annoyed at the attention I was Zetin2. Dolores finally got Sonny to get up and dance and then Shawn asked me if I would like to dance.
I smiled to myself, remembering some of the steps Daddy had taught me.
I nodded and we tot up. Shawn had no rhythm and couldn't do much more than pretend. but I ignored him, closed my eyes and let the music into inc. I didn't realize how I was stealing the attention of the entire audience until the music ended and people applauded, looking more at me than they did the band. The leader, a tall black man with gray temples and friendly eyes, smiled.
When we returned to our table, the boys were all raving about me and the girls were looking much more annoyed. Shawn ordered another drink for himself. I had just taken a sip of mine.
"C'mon, drink up," he urged. "We've got a lot of night ahead of us. . ."
More reason to drink slowly, I thought, but everyone was ordering another drink by now.
We danced some more. Dolores tried to capture more attention with some very sexy moves. When Sonny asked me to dance, she looked like she would leap over the table to scratch out my eyes.
"Go on. Give him a thrill,' Shawn told me. "I'd rather not." I said as gently as I could.
It seemed to take the laughter from all their eyes. When everyone was drinking and being silly, there was no room for any serious thoughts. I realized. It put a damper on things.
"That's being cold," Michael told Sonny. "Now I see the ice."
"Hey, give her a rest," Buzzy said. "Besides. it's time she sang." I shook my head.
"No." I said.
He didn't listen. He jumped up and went to the bandleader. who looked my way and nodded. fuzzy beckoned to me.
"Go on," Shawn urged. "Show them a thing or two,"
"No," I said shaking my head. People in the audience were all looking at me.
"What's the matter, this crowd's not good enough for you?" Jeanie asked me.
I looked at her.
"I never sang a solo." I said, hoping that would be enough.
"Tonight's the night you do," Michael declared.
Shawn started to help me up.
I shook my head again.
People were clapping on the right, urging me to get up. I continued to shake my head, but by now they were all cheering at our table, the girls the loudest, hoping I would make a total fool of myself.
For once., I thought Mama had named me correctly. My blood seemed to freeze in my body. I was numb with fear. And then. suddenly, I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Go on. Ice."
I turned to see Balwin Noble, the senior at school who played piano accompaniments for our chorus.
"Balwin! What are you doing here?" I cried.
"I thought you said she doesn't talk,' Sonny shouted at Shawn,
"I come here often and play with Barry Jones. Do 'Lullaby of Birdland,'" he urged. Occasionally, when no one else was at the rehearsal yet, he and I would fool around and I'd sing. Like Daddy, he loved my rendition of Ella Fitzgerald's hit song. "I'll get on piano."
"Really?"
"Who the hell is this?" Shawn demanded.
"I play piano for the school chorus," he told him.
"Well, this ain't school, stupid.'
"I won't go up unless Balwin can," I declared.
The audience was getting impatient. People were clanking silverware against their glasses. Shawn looked around.
"Let him go," Michael said. "What do you care?"
Shawn stepped aside and Balwin and I walked to the small stage. They all did know him. The piano player got up to let Balwin take his place.
"Hey. Balwin," the bandleader said. "you sure about her? This isn't an easy crowd tonight."
"She's in the chorus. She makes it," he bragged. Then he leaned over and said. "C'mon, lets show them." He turned to the bandleader. "Do 'Lullaby,'" he told him.
"You've gotit."
My heart wasn't pounding. It was clamoring, raking like a caged beast in my chest. The only thing that gave me some comfort was seeing Balwin at the piano. His familiar face and smile gave me
encouragement
.
"Wipe the doubt off their smug faces." he said.
I was given the microphone. Buzz-y took his seat. My table all gaped at me. the girls looking furious. Then the music started. I thought about Daddy and me in the living room and his happy smile and I began: soon, I wasn't in the Kit-Kat, I was back home. I was safe, and the song kept me safe.
When I finished, the audience was on its feet; even the girls at my table reluctantly stood to clap.
"Come around any time you want," the bandleader told me. Balwin looked so proud.
"I knew you could do it," he said.
"I wouldn't have if you weren't here. Balwin.''
"I'm glad I was," he said.
Shawn stepped up between us quickly.
"Nice," he said. "Really nice. Cmon. We're all a-going to Michael's house to party and celebrate,"
"What? Why? What's wrong with staying here?"
"We're finished here," Shawn said.
I looked at the group getting up from the table and I thought about my father's advice.
"I don't want to go to anyone's house. Shawn," I said firmly,
"Why not?"
"We were supposed to go out to dinner. We haven't even eaten yet."
"We'll get something to eat there," he said.
"Maybe you should just take me home," I told him.
"Are you kidding?"
I shook my head and the smile of incredulity turned to a look of annoyance.
"Why?"
"I don't want to go to anyone's house," I said.
"I thought we were going to have a good time. Don't you want to have a good time?"
"Yes, but I don't want to go to anyone's house for it," I said.
"Aw, c'mon."
"No," I said as firmly as I could.
He glared angrily at me for a moment. Then he went to his friends to tell them, and they all started on me.
"We were just going to listen to music, have something to eat, enjoy the night.'
"We can really party."
"What's the problem?'
I didn't reply to any of them. I sat at the table, my arms crossed under my breasts, fixing my attention on the stage and ignoring their comments and pleas.
Shooting Stars 02 Ice Page 5