Windy City Blues

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Windy City Blues Page 14

by Renée Rosen


  “Is this yours?” she asked at last.

  “It’s ours. What do you think?”

  “It’s beautiful, but, Lenny, can we afford this?”

  “Of course we can afford this.” He said it with such conviction he almost believed it.

  She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him hard.

  “Go get the kids. Let’s go for a drive.”

  She rushed into the house and woke up the children, and all of them, still in their pajamas, piled into the backseat and went for a drive. Susie slept through the whole thing.

  • • •

  A few weeks later Leonard sat across from his father at the card table in the front room of the apartment on Karlov Avenue. Joe Chess shuffled the deck. Normally they played pinochle with Phil and their neighbor Moishe, but that day it would be gin rummy, just the two of them.

  “You trust that Evelyn broad?” his father asked, snapping the deck before he dealt the cards.

  “She’s a pain in the ass, but yeah, I trust her.”

  “So where the hell’s all the money? You’re telling me the business is doing better. You tell me you have hit records. I see you driving around in a new car—a Cadillac no less—and—”

  “Dad, it’s not—”

  “Shah. Let me finish.” He fanned out his cards. “Your brother’s too proud to ask so I’m asking for him. Can’t you find something—anything—for Phil over at Aristocrat?”

  Leonard had known this was coming.

  “Gotta be something over at that company he can do,” his father said.

  “The problem is, we can’t pay Phil. Not like the kind of money he’s making now at the club.”

  “I see you made enough money to get that new car.”

  A dagger of guilt stabbed Leonard. Ever since he’d bought that car, people had assumed he was on easy street. And yes, that was the whole idea behind getting a Cadillac; but at the same time that image meant having to explain and apologize. Phil never said a word about the car other than “Mazel tov, motherfucker. You always said you were gonna get one of these.”

  His father grunted. “I think you should share some of the wealth with your brother.”

  Leonard laid his cards facedown. Yes, Muddy’s records were selling, but it wasn’t that simple. The record business was an up-front business—studios, musicians and record pressers all got paid at the time of service. And even after Leonard got a record out to the stores and deejays and jukeboxes, he knew they could come back as returns. He had tried before to explain all that to his father, but the old man saw only that Leonard was driving around in a Cadillac.

  “It’s complicated, Pop. But Evelyn and I are talking about getting a loan.”

  “I thought you already tried to get a loan.”

  “We did, but the business is healthier now. Don’t worry, Pop, I haven’t forgotten about Phil.”

  • • •

  Leonard stood outside the Macomba Lounge and handed Muddy a check for two hundred dollars along with a set of keys to a brand-new Cadillac of his own. He’d bought the second Cadillac for Muddy out of guilt, knowing he could have never owned a car like that himself if it hadn’t been for Mud.

  “It’s all yours, motherfucker,” Leonard said.

  Muddy took the check and the keys. “Now, what was that you was sayin’ ’bout my havin’ goddamn marbles in my mouth?”

  They both laughed. Muddy tossed the car keys in the air and snatched them in his fist.

  Leonard waved to Aileen, who was leaning against the passenger-side door waiting. “Go sit inside the car,” he called to her. Aileen and Muddy had been inseparable for the past few weeks and Leonard had his concerns. “Be careful with that one,” he said to Muddy. “She acts tough, but she’s fragile. Spun glass.”

  “Don’t you be worrying ’bout that.”

  “I hope you told her you’re married.”

  “Like I say, don’t you be worrying ’bout that.”

  Leonard stood back and watched Muddy and Aileen drive off in that shiny red automobile. It was the middle of the day and the drug dealers and streetwalkers were already out in force, the ladies propositioning the men walking by, driving by. The sidewalks were littered with empty whiskey pints and beer bottles, used syringes, someone’s brassiere. A story behind every item. The clouds hung low in the overcast sky, making that grungy neighborhood look even more dismal to Leonard.

  It started to drizzle as he chucked his cigarette to the curb and went back inside the Macomba. Remnants of the previous night’s brawl were evident. A couple of drunks had gotten into it at about four in the morning and started smashing up the place, throwing chairs and heaving tables at each other. They’d had their share of fights in the club, but aside from that night of the shooting when Marshall was with him, they’d never seen anything like this. The club drew a bad element that was getting worse all the time. They never knew when some drunk or junkie was gonna start a fight, pull a knife or a gun. He walked through the carnage wondering if they’d be able to salvage any of the furniture.

  Phil was on the phone with the insurance company trying to determine if the damage would be covered. “I’ve been on hold with them for the past half hour,” he said to Leonard, removing his hat long enough to wipe his brow and repositioning it on his head.

  Leonard looked out at the club. The lights were flickering because of a short in the system. They’d had an electrician come look at it, but he had told them they needed to rewire the place to the tune of five hundred bucks. Maybe more.

  Phil slammed down the telephone. “Goddamn insurance agent. They’re gonna jack up our premiums. We’re better off replacing all this crap ourselves.”

  “Listen,” said Leonard, “Evelyn and I got a meeting with the bank later this afternoon to see about a loan. Once that comes through, you and me are out of here. I promise.”

  Phil didn’t acknowledge Leonard. It was as if he’d heard it too many times before.

  Leonard was trying to think of a way to reassure Phil, when someone pounded on the front door.

  “Hold on. Hold on.” Leonard unlocked the door and there was Leeba, panting hard, trying to catch her breath.

  “I’ve been calling you for the past hour. Your line’s been busy.”

  “What’s wrong—what’s going on?”

  “It’s Evelyn.” She stepped inside, shaking rain off her umbrella. “She never came into work today. I can’t find her anywhere. No one’s seen her since yesterday afternoon. No one knows where she is. She’s missing.”

  SIXTEEN

  • • •

  “Worried Life Blues”

  LEEBA

  Before Leeba had gone to get Leonard at the Macomba that Friday, she’d already telephoned everyone she could think of. Evelyn’s mother, her friends, even both her ex-husbands. No one had seen or spoken to her since the day before. On their way back to the office, Leeba and Leonard agreed it was time to go to the police.

  As they were keying into the office they heard the telephone. Leonard tripped the lock and Leeba rushed to her desk, grabbing the phone on the fifth or sixth ring.

  “Hello? Hello!”

  It was a long-distance operator with a collect call from Evelyn. “Will you accept the charges?”

  “Yes.” Leeba clutched the phone with both hands and called across the room to Leonard. “It’s her. It’s Evelyn.”

  Leonard perched himself on the edge of her desk. “Where the hell is she?”

  “Shh, I’m on hold.” It seemed like an eternity before the operator put the call through. “Evelyn? Are you all right?”

  “Oh, yes, yes. I’m fine.”

  She sounded calm, serene, and the way she’d tossed in that “oh” so casually threw Leeba.

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in Vegas.”

  “Las Ve
gas?”

  Leonard’s eyebrows spiked high on his forehead. “She’s in Las Vegas?” He twisted out of his coat and thrust out his hand. “Give me the phone.”

  Leeba pulled it out of his reach and kept talking, plugging her free ear to block Leonard’s yelling. “What are you doing in Las Vegas? We’ve been looking all over the place for you.”

  “So sorry. This is the first chance I’ve had to call.” Evelyn paused for a long exhale. She sounded so blasé and Leeba could picture her lying there on some chaise, taking a long luxurious puff off her cigarette, shooting her smoke to the ceiling. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

  “What are you doing in Vegas?” Leeba asked again. “You have a meeting with the bank in an hour.”

  “Oh, I know, I know,” said Evelyn with a silly me laugh. “I completely fouled that up, didn’t I?” She was annoyingly giddy. “We’ll have to reschedule. It’s no big deal.”

  Leeba looked at Leonard pacing back and forth. “I can’t believe she’s doing this.”

  The room grew stiflingly hot. Raindrops had collected on the floor from Leeba’s umbrella. She unbuttoned her coat and yanked her scarf free from about her neck. “Evelyn, what is going on? This isn’t like you. You sound funny.”

  “Everything’s fine. Never better, in fact. I’m just calling to let you know that I’ll be back on Wednesday.”

  “Not till Wednesday?”

  Leonard lunged for the phone. “Let me talk to her.”

  Again Leeba pulled the phone out of his reach. “Evelyn, you still there?”

  “I’m here. I’m just calling to let you know I’ll be back on Wednesday. We flew out here last night. We got married, Leeba. I’m on my honeymoon.”

  “Married? To who?”

  Leonard stopped, his eyes about to bulge from their sockets as he kicked a wastebasket, sending papers skittering across the floor.

  Evelyn laughed again. “What do you mean, to who? To Art Sheridan, of course.”

  “Oh.” Leeba’s mouth dropped open. She was dumbfounded. Art Sheridan was a record presser. Leeba had had no idea there was anything going on between Evelyn and him.

  She congratulated Evelyn, hung up the phone and turned to Leonard, who blurted out, “I’m gonna kill her. When she gets back here I swear I’m gonna kill her.”

  • • •

  Evelyn returned from Las Vegas with sunburned cheeks and a few freckles across her nose. She waltzed into the office the following Wednesday with her pocketbook swinging from her arm, her new diamond ring catching the light.

  “Well, hello there,” she said. “I’m back.”

  Leeba and Leonard had already been in the office for hours, buried beneath a stack of invoices, trying to figure out which ones had to be paid and where they were going to find the money for them. Leonard slapped his pen to his desk and pushed himself out of his chair.

  “You got some nerve, lady.”

  “Oh, Leonard, calm down. Your face is all flushed. It’s not good for your blood pressure to get so worked up.”

  “You’re what’s not good for my blood pressure. We rescheduled the meeting with the bank for tomorrow afternoon and you better be on time. We need this loan.”

  “I’m very much aware of our financial needs. I’ll be on time.”

  The next day Leeba watched Leonard pacing about the office. It was raining again that day and his shoes were squeaking, wet from having stepped in a puddle earlier. His suit jacket was rumpled and his tie was a mess.

  “Did Revetta let you walk out of the house looking like that?” Leeba smiled. “Come here.” She flipped up his collar and loosened the knot in his tie and started over again. “Did you eat breakfast today?”

  “Does she think she’s still on her goddamn honeymoon or something?”

  “Calm down. She’ll be here.” Leeba finished knotting his tie and patted his shoulders. “There. Perfect.”

  Twenty minutes later, when Leonard was about to explode from anxiety, Evelyn sauntered in, dressed in a smart suit and one of her high-fashion hats. Standing next to Leonard in his wrinkled shirt and outdated two-piece suit, his tie too narrow, Leeba thought they appeared every bit the mismatched partners that they were.

  “Well,” said Evelyn, inspecting her makeup in her compact before closing it with a snap. “Shall we go?”

  After they left, Aileen called from a pay phone at work. Leeba could hear the elevator cars dinging in the background and pictured Aileen standing in the booth, keeping a lookout for her boss. Leeba cradled the receiver between her ear and shoulder and scanned the ledger while Aileen prattled on and on about her favorite subject: Muddy. She never tired of him, fascinated by everything from his silky conk to his cuff links. That day it was all about his new Cadillac. Aileen was talking nonstop about the interior, about how smooth the ride was and how people stared when they drove by . . .

  “And did I tell you he said I could borrow it whenever I want? Me, driving a Cadillac. Can you believe it?”

  Silence. The phone was pressing into Leeba’s shoulder. She switched ears.

  “Are you there? Leeba?”

  “Yep, I’m here.” She drummed her pencil against the ledger.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She drummed faster.

  “Something’s bugging you.”

  Aileen was going to force it out of her. “Okay, listen, I like Muddy, I do—”

  “But?”

  Leeba hesitated.

  “If this is ’bout him being married, I keep tellin’ you, she’s just a common-law wife and besides— Oh shit, my boss is coming. I gotta go, but I’ll call you back. I got something to tell you. Something big.”

  Aileen hung up on her and Leeba had to admit she was relieved to be off the phone. She couldn’t listen to any more talk about Muddy. She wasn’t in favor of their relationship. He was married. It was wrong. And yet Aileen was happier than Leeba had ever seen her. But it was borrowed happiness and that worried Leeba. She would have felt better knowing that Aileen had gotten there on her own and not just because Muddy had come into her life. That smile on her face was Muddy’s; the sparkle in her eyes belonged to Muddy. Everything was on account of Muddy.

  Leeba got busy with some paperwork, and two hours later Evelyn was back. She swept in through the front door, shaking out her umbrella before peeling off her hat and plunking it down on her desk.

  “Well?” said Leeba. “What did the bank say?”

  Evelyn shrugged. “We’re a bad risk.” Her mouth turned downward.

  “Where’s Leonard?”

  “Oh, I don’t know.” Evelyn looked around on the floor as if searching for something she’d dropped. “He was just behind me.” She sat down and fiddled with her stockings, her leg extended, toes pointed. She shuffled through some message slips and then pulled out a bottle of nail enamel and began polishing her nails at her desk.

  Leeba never thought she’d see the day when Leonard Chess behaved more professionally than Evelyn Aron. And where was Leonard anyway? She grabbed her coat and umbrella and went outside to look for him.

  It had been raining off and on all day and everything was soaked, the streets and sidewalks covered in wet leaves turned orange, red and yellow. It didn’t take long for Leeba to find Leonard. He was in the parking lot across the street, sitting in his Cadillac. She looked through the window and saw that he had his head in his hands. She knocked on the glass and his head snapped back with a start.

  “What are you doing out here?” she asked, after he’d unlocked the door and she’d slid into the passenger seat, rain from her umbrella pooling at her feet.

  He squeezed the steering wheel and looked straight ahead. “I can’t believe the bank turned us down. I’m screwed.”

  “What are you talking about? Muddy’s new record is selling like hotcakes.”

&n
bsp; “Do you realize how long it’s going to be before I see a dime of that money?”

  “There’s other banks,” she said. “You’ll get a loan to carry you until the money comes in. It’ll be okay.”

  He shook his head. “I never should have bought the Cadillacs. I was a fool counting on that loan. I’m in over my head. I owe everybody money.” He was breathing hard, fogging up the windows. “We barely have enough money to take Muddy back into the studio. And you should have seen Evelyn with those bankers—she doesn’t give a shit.”

  Rain collected on the windshield, blurring their view of everything. Leonard had always complained about Evelyn, about their cash flow, but this time Leeba sensed that he really couldn’t see his way out of this mess any more than he could see outside his front window.

  “You’ll turn things around,” she said. “You’ve never walked away from a challenge. Not in all the years I’ve known you.”

  “You really think I can make this work, huh?”

  She reached over and put her hand on top of his. “Not think. I know. I know you can.”

  He was still staring out the windshield. He didn’t speak. He looked doubtful.

  “C’mon now, motherfucker,” she said. “I believe in you.”

  He turned and shot her a stunned look. “I don’t believe it. Leeba Groski said ‘motherfucker.’” He burst out laughing and reached over and hugged her.

  The two of them sat there laughing until the rain eased up and it was time to go back into the office.

  “Your little friend’s been calling here,” Evelyn said to Leeba. “I told her you weren’t here so what does she do? She calls back two seconds later. She’s meshuge, that one.”

  Leeba knew how Aileen could get, thinking she could will the universe to comply at her urgent insistence. Leeba was hanging up her raincoat when the phone rang again. She answered, not surprised that it was Aileen calling yet again.

 

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