by J Moon
Passing through the kitchen, they came to a flight of stairs to which they stomped up to a packed backstage area, with mostly black performers running back and forth. Excitement electrified the air as all the talent crammed the backstage area trying to get dressed while awaiting their chance on stage.
“It’s kind of tight back here but just follow me,” Rahlo said aloud above the chatter flowering the backstage area.
Rahlo formed a line for everyone following behind as he pushed through the crowd. Nia grabbed Rahlo’s hand as he pulled her through, and she looked behind to the archangel to make sure he and the others were following along with each step.
“I’m holding on and I’m not letting go,” Nia said to Rahlo. She glanced over at Gabe, and as usual the genuine excitement on his face magnified hers by tenfold.
Not paying attention she almost gets pulled away from Rahlo as two men to their right start jumping up and down.
“We made it baby boy!” One slick-haired man said to the other as they both exited the stage.
“I can’t believe we just performed on the stage of the world-famous Cotton Club. Soon everybody and dey mama is going to know about the Notorious Nicholas Brothers.”
“Wait till we tell ma how this went. She’s going to flip her lid!” he exclaimed.
“And you wait until we get back to Philly. We are going to be treated like the big cats.”
Rahlo led them to a small clearing right behind the stage. It seemed they all breathed a bit easier once being out of the mass of the crowd.
“Just wait right here, and I’m going to see if they got your table.”
“Okay thanks,” Langston said.
“No problem boss,” Rahlo said as he turned, and disappeared behind the thick folds of velvet red curtains.
Nia turned to her left to see a line of girls dolled up in matching wigs, and revealing outfits. Then a lady with an extravagant gown sashayed her way past them on her left. A group of four boys escorted by their white manager squeezed by on their right.
Nia tugged at Gabe, “It’s looking like an award show back here.”
Gabe beamed. “Isn’t it wonderful? For a lot of hopefuls in Harlem, the Cotton Club is the big time. For some it’s even bigger than Hollywood.”
“That’s amazing.”
With her hands clasped, Zora surveyed the room. “It is all beautiful. All of them so talented and so full of life.”
“If you say so,” Langston inserted. “If you ask me this place is nothing but a Jim Crow club for gangsters, and uppity whites. They come here from all over to crowd the bars and sip champagne while they watch negro performers shuck and jive like animals in a zoo.”
Gabe shook his head. “Oh come on Langston. To call what some of these performers do shucking, and jiving is disrespectful,” he said yet knowing in the back of his head that Langston’s comments were stitched with a bit of truth.
Zora pulled a cigarette out and started to light it. “That might be a little harsh, but you know he’s right Gabe. Even for the few negroes who can afford a table here.” She took a slow pull, and blew out. “They turn their noses up and frown at us."
A well-dressed Italian man walked up towards Zora, in a non-polite way. “Girl there is no smoking back here.”
Zora’s look of disgust was lightning fast, a snap of her neck. The frown on her face said who the hell you calling girl. But her lips said, “Well excuse the hell out of me.” She tossed the cigarette on the floor and stomped it with as much attitude as she could allow, without getting them thrown out and locked up.
As the stagehand walked away, Thelma tapped Nia on the shoulder. “Sweetheart why haven’t you got on your costume?”
“Excuse me?”
An authoritative hand was placed on the older woman’s hip “Oh honey you should’ve been dressed by now,” the dear lady said with her eyes as sweet as honey, but her tone as nasty as venom.
Nia’s brow wrinkled. “No…. I’m sorry. Just here to support a friend.”
Thelma smiled embarrassingly. “Oh, I’m so sorry. My name is Thelma and I’m in charge of the girls,” she said as she extended her hand. “Such a shame. We only have one or two brown-skinned girls. I would’ve hoped we had gotten another one.”
“Gabe!” Josephine called as she erupted from the dressing room. She frowned at the sight of Nia and Gabriel standing so close together, the chemistry between the two of them was obvious, as a spirit of jealousy began to invade her as she shot her a look of suspicious disquiet. It was a face Nia knew well- what are you doing with my boyfriend?
Gabe pulled her into his arms. “Wow, beautiful as always.”
Josephine wiped her makeup off of him. “I’m so excited and nervous.”
“Aww don’t be. You are going to bring the house down. Like you normally do.”
Giddily she clapped her hands before saying, “There is a table in the far right I had them save for you. Go and grab your seats.”
“We will,” Gabe said as he turned to Nia. “Come along Ms. Carter.”
As the music number came to the end and members from the band trickled backstage, Gabe pointed to a fellow by the piano.
Gabe grabbed Nia by the shoulder, “That’s Duke. Met him in 1958. He was doing a gig in Italy when his drummer got mauled by hellhounds, I saved the drummer and filled in at the last minute. Let me go speak.”
Nia pulled him back. “But wait that’s thirty-two years in the future. You haven’t met him yet.”
Gabe nodded. “Indeed, but if that’s the case then I better go introduce myself. Excuse me.” Gabe moved Nia to the side and shouted “Duke!” as he raised his hand.
Both Josephine and Nia cackled as they watched the archangel trot off.
Nia shook her head. “Homeboy is something else.”
Josephine smiled to herself as she stood in awe of the archangel’s silhouette. “That’s the archangel for you, hard to pin down, and hard to let go. He is amazing isn’t he?” Josephine said with her voice sounding like a love-obsessed teenage girl. “When I’m with him it's like standing next to the sun. His warmth gives you all the joy you ever need. But if you stand too close…. eventually you get burned.” As she said this, she turned to Nia with somberness glinting in her round honey eyes. And that was a look Nia recognized as well, it was disappointment and heartache.
Out in the crowd Nia spotted Rahlo who waved them on. She looked over to Josephine and rubbed her shoulder. “I wish you good luck.”
Josephine patted at her hair, “Thanks sugar.” Seductively she glanced over her shoulder, lights from the stage hit her face at an angle that made her appear more glamorous. “Well I got to go it’s almost show time.”
Nia turned to Langston and Zora, “Let’s go grab our seats.”
They entered the main dining room during a thunderous applause as the host took the stage, and the last act exited.
The main dining area was separated into two floors of dining tables arranged in the shape of a horseshoe facing the bandstand. Murals of southern landscapes were painted along the walls, along with rows and rows of cotton fields brimming with slave workers.
Glasses and plates used by the bar and on the dinner table were reminiscent of classic southern cutlery. A grand white plantation with massive white columns framed the background of the bandstand.
Nia looked around and in the darkness felt briefly she had time travelled even further back in time as the interior decor of the Cotton Club seemed to be an elaborate plantation. She didn’t know if she wanted to throw up or burn the place down.
All the waiters and waitresses were black and dressed in sophisticated red tuxedos. Nia watched them coming out of the kitchen swiftly, poised, and prompt as they served dishes and popped bottle after bottle of champagne. It was almost like a dance how they waltzed into the room, maneuvering through the aisles to the music playing on the bandstand. Nia looked behind to see Zora and Langston were as utterly disgusted as she was.
It was a packed h
ouse with around three hundred people sitting at tables or crowding bars. The crowd was mostly whites in their thirties and forties, dripping in diamonds and fur. It was obvious they were moneyed like Langston said. A few mob bosses sat near the stage with their younger mistresses and crew.
Sprinkled along the outer tables of the crowd were a few blacks. Prohibition had no effect of the alcohol that was available and flowing throughout the room, the majority was bottles of Madden’s number one.
“Here you go, guys.” Rahlo said as he limped from the table.
They all thanked him. Langston reached into his pocket and placed two dollars in his hands. Rahlo looked down and when his eyes met Langston, a smile swept across his face. “Thank you I really appreciate it.”
Langston smacked his shoulder, “No problem.”
Nodding Rahlo made his way from the table. Nia wrinkled her nose at the strong smell of Turkish tobacco as they made their way around to the table. A waiter in black and gold, stood by ready for their orders. It was tremendously hot in the ballroom, and Nia felt the sweat bead on her forehead as she sat down.
A waiter hovered over them, “May I get you fine folks a drink?”
Gabe pulled himself together. “Bourbon please.”
The bartender looked over to Langston, and he nodded along as if to say the same thing. When he peered over to Zora.
Zora sighed as she crossed her legs at the table. “Water is fine for now.”
Nia spoke up, “I’ll take the same.”
The waiter disappeared and Langston turned to Gabriel. “There he goes Gabe,” Langston said as he pointed with his head.
“Who?”
“Owney Madden. The owner of the Cotton Club and New York’s biggest mob boss.”
Gabe looked ahead, and immediately recognized Owney as the man who was talking to Uriel last night. He was Legion’s human contact, and Gabe knew he would be facilitating the transfer.
Owney made his way around greeting all the other big shots at their tables. Gabe looked down to the briefcase in one of the goons’ hands, watched the man move across the room.
Gabe thought most likely the black rune was inside.
“Look who finally decide to accept my invitation. Langston Hughes,” Owney greeted with a rat like sneer.
Langston flashed a reluctant smile. The waiter circled to the other side, and began handing out drinks. As Owney stood over them he peered over to Zora. “And you brought the lovely Mrs. Hurston with you.”
Zora rolled her eyes over to the sneering man. “Mr. Madden,” she greeted simply.
Owney turned his attention back to Langston, “So what made you finally accept my invitation?”
Langston cleared his throat. “An associate of mine and his friend came from out of town. They insisted on visiting your establishment.”
Owney looked the both of them over. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”
Langston looked over to Gabriel. “Allow me to introduce you to—”
“Gatsby,” Gabe cut in as he took Owney’s hand. “Call me Mr. Gatsby and this is my fine date Ms. Carter.”
Owney took Gabe’s hand, a firm handshake between the two of them. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he said and then came a sudden chill in his bones. An Asian fellow in black stood by the bar, and looked over at Owney.
“And you my dear look like you should be one of my dancers.”
Nia frowned and smiled at the same time, “That’s what I hear.”
“I hope you enjoy the show, and spread it all around the colored community the wonderful time you’ve had at the Cotton Club.”
“I’ll be sure to do that.” Langston said as Owney made his way to his own personal table in the club.
Gabriel had a full cup of bourbon in hand when he said, “I don’t trust that fellow.”
Langston leaned over, “I told you he’s one of the most crooked men in New York.”
Gabe took a sip of bourbon. “Not Owney but the fellow at the bar. Do you recognize him?”
Zora ducked her head to follow the archangel’s gaze. “Who?”
“The one by the bar next to the lady in the white gown,” Gabe said, making everyone at the table turn around in the chairs.
Once she finally spotted the gentleman, she studied him for a while. “I’ve never seen him around here before.”
Langston shook his head. “Me. Neither.”
Something told the archangel that the man was up to no good. He would be sure to keep his good eye on him. As a matter of fact, he thought he needed a closer. The band began to play and without warning Gabe sprung up from his chair and he grabbed Nia’s hand. “C’mon Ms. Carter let’s dance.”
“Alright let’s get it,” Nia said not questioning him. She had wanted to grace the dance floor the moment she walked in. Many things about the décor and theme rubbed her the wrong way, but the simple elegance of the dance floor had tugged at her heart.
“Let’s dance right here.” Gabe said as he raised her hand. Nia’s back was pointed to the bar, and gave him the perfect view of the man at the bar. The man stuck out like a sore thumb as the wealthy whites did double takes around the bar, and it was obvious they will soon complain.
“Ugh this is so nice,” Nia said. “You know I’ve never did something like this before.”
“Like what?”
“Get all dolled up for a dance.”
“You know my mom passed away right around prom. My dad saved up money for me to buy a dress, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t muster up the strength to go. My mom had always mentioned it to me as one of the moments she looked forward to. Prom and my wedding.”
Nia choked up a sob as a bitter memory brought tears out of her eyes. “She said she was going to do my make-up, my hair, and tell me how beautiful I was just like grandma did for her.” Nia slowly exhaled.
Gabe stopped dancing and admired her as she smiled through her tears. He wiped her tears away. “You are beautiful Nia. You are so beautiful.” Then he pulled her close, and began to sway to the music.
“You know I want to apologize for the other night. I don’t know what happened or how to explain it. But that’s not me. I was out of pocket.”
Gabe turned her slowly. “You don’t have to apologize. I know. It was my Grace. You weren’t the first and you wouldn’t be the last. Often we Angels try to share just a bit with mortals, just enough to give them strength if they are having a hard time, hope if they are hopeless, and love if they are lonely. Last night you felt just a molecule of the raw light from the Creator. Too much and it will flood your system.
“Yes I guess. But some of it I did mean. Gabe I care for you.”
“I care for you too.”
Then he looked up and noticed the other companions on the dance floor were whispering about them and giving them nasty looks.
“C’mon let’s take our seats,” Gabe said as he led them back to the table. Gabe glanced over again at the fellow, he had quietly moved away from the bar, watching the door with anticipation.
Inexplicably the archangel felt something very odd happening here-something he did not understand, but would make his priority to find out.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They walked back over to their seats as the host announced the world famous Cotton Club dancers to the stage. Gabe clapped as he watched Josephine and the rest of the Cotton Club girls sashay on the stage. From both sides of the stage the twelve dancers, split into six, marched on the stage with their heads held high while clasping tightly onto their dazzling fur-trimmed cloaks.
In one glorious harmony they sang. “All night long we have searched for music so great. For the dancing fever we anticipate.”
Nia marveled at the elaborate feathered hats they wore on the top of their heads. Suddenly the slow dramatic tune became bright, and infectious as the piano player began to strum the keys.
“What’s that music they’re playing so hot? How long can we stand it and not dan
ce?”
Brilliant horns kicked into the song and the dancers peeled off their cloaks revealing shimmering white two piece costumes. Nia snapped her fingers as she watched some of the ladies in the room turn up their noses at the sight of so much skin, including Zora.
From the sharp cries made by the brass section and a foot tapping strum of the piano, the band began to conjure an infectious wave that swept over the club. Josephine dashed to the right as the others went behind the stage. She was performing solo. A big smile on her face as she began tap dancing.
“Alright Jose!” Gabe hollered as she wagged her hands, and flailed her arms.
“Just look at her go!” Langston said in astonishment.
“Don’t stare too hard,” Zora chimed in as she playfully hit him.
Josephine was tapping and spinning around when the two male dancers joined her on stage. They were the same guys from backstage. Nia remembered.
They joined in with Josephine tapping and kicking as their white tuxedos caught the light. Nia looked beyond the dancers.
The piano player was on his feet, banging on the piano like a madman, whipping his head from side to side. All the dancers rushed off the stage. The spotlight went to the band as the piano player began to sing.
“When the fire comes through. There is nothing you can do. Throw your hands up in the air, and kick off your shoes!”
On his left the drummer had his eyes slammed shut as he pounded the drums louder. Nia thought to herself this was like going to a revival at a Baptist church. A burning passion could be seen through them all as sweat trickled down their faces, and they played their instruments with an astounding fervor.
As the music climaxed, the lights dimmed lower, and all the female dancers were falling to the floor.
“I don’t know what to do when the heat takes over me. Burning! Burning! Burning! We can’t control this fever taken over.” They sang as they began to writhe, and twist seductively on the floor.
Suddenly the brass section kicked in louder as the Cotton Club girls gyrated and whipped their hair back and forth.
“To catch a dance fever and hear the best music in the world. You can only find it at the world famous Cotton Club.” They finished in high soprano harmonies. With wagging hands and smiling faces, the number came to a close.