Love’s Serenade

by Sheryl Lister

  “Hey, Miss Leigh,” someone called from the crowd. “Come on up and sing something.”

  Leigh hadn’t come to sing. In fact, she planned to make a hasty exit. But the group didn’t give her a choice. She pasted a smile on her face and moved to the piano to talk to Frank. However, Miles was the one at the piano. He didn’t even ask which song, just started playing the same blues song he had at the club. The response from the audience mirrored that of the one last night and they ended up singing two more songs. Sure she’d been compensated, but that wasn’t the point.

  She moved through the crowd and found Liz. “I’m ready to leave. Where’s Frank?”

  Liz gave her an exasperated look. “He’s in the back room.”

  “Gambling or…?”

  “Gambling, but I don’t know why because he loses every time. We can catch a ride with someone else. Unless you want to ask Miles. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  She held up a hand. “Don’t start.”

  “What?” Liz asked with mock innocence, her amusement plain.

  “Not one word, Liz. Not one.” Leigh fumed all the way home. What he’d done would be all over Harlem by morning. Granted, she could have pulled her hand away and avoided the entire scene, but Miles had a way of leaving her at such sixes and sevens she couldn’t remember her own name half of the time. She sighed. With any luck, folks would chalk it all up to them having a good time. But that still didn’t solve her problem.

  Chapter 3

  Miles viewed Leigh’s departure knowingly. He’d felt the way her hands held him around the neck, heard her breathless sighs. Their attraction might be mutual, but she was right. He needed to back away if he couldn’t promise her he would stay. And right now he couldn’t. He turned his attention back to the piano, the one place that gave him peace and played for another hour. Afterward, he collected his fee and purchased a plate of food. While eating, he stood off to the side conversing with another musician he’d met. He hadn’t had fried pork chops this good since leaving his grandmother’s house and almost went back to purchase a couple more.

  A woman sidled up next to them “You boys look like you could use a little company.” She rattled off the price for fifteen minutes in the bedroom.

  Miles declined, but the other man followed her back with a smile. Shaking his head, he finished his food and got a glass of lemonade. A loud commotion from the back interrupted the party. Women screamed and a surge of people streamed by, trying to get out of the path of the combatants. Miles saw the two home defense officers who had been hired to keep the peace rush in the direction of the yelling and he went the opposite way. He had no desire to get caught up in whatever dispute was taking place. The last time a brawl had broken out at one of these gatherings, he gotten trapped in the middle and ended up with a slash across his forearm that kept him from playing the piano for weeks.

  He set the glass down on a nearby table, slipped out the door, unnoticed, and hustled down the steps to the front of the building. While walking to his Model T Ford, the only substantial purchase he had made, he lit a cigarette. Having a car allowed him to escape some of the Jim Crow laws inflicted on members of the race when traveling by train. Miles had been put off simply because of his race more times than he could count. He still ran into problems while driving on the road, from being denied a room and a meal, and being allowed to buy gas but not use the bathroom to being stopped by the police for no apparent reason. He learned to carry food, blankets and an empty coffee can at all times. And to avoid certain areas, especially at night.

  Miles drove to his place, picked up the two pieces of mail from his box and went upstairs. One envelope bore his grandmother’s distinctive flowing handwriting. He had promised to always let her know where he’d be and he had written to her upon his arrival three weeks ago. He smiled. The second envelope had his name on it, but no address. Curious, he opened it first. As he read, his grin widened. A local band needed a piano player for a few nights and the leader wanted to meet with Miles tomorrow to discuss it. But if he got the job, it would mean not seeing Leigh. She’d get her wish, at least for a short time. Miles noted the time and place, set the note aside and opened the letter from his grandmother. She let him know that she had received his letter and reminded him that she was getting up in age and he should make plans to visit soon.

  Miles wondered what his grandmother would think of Leigh. Both were cut from the same cloth and possessed a determination he didn’t often see. His grandmother had raised six sons alone after his grandfather died in a tractor accident, and Leigh had moved away from everything she had known to pursue her dreams. He hadn’t seen Mama, as he called her, in over six months and probably needed to make that trip. But he worried what Leigh would think if he left again. She most likely wouldn’t believe that he’d come back. Miles briefly toyed with asking her to accompany him, but decided it wouldn’t sit well with her, especially without a commitment. He had no business even thinking about inviting her. He ran a hand over his face. He had really made a mess of things and didn’t know how to fix them, or if he even could. He would think on it more later. For now, he climbed into bed and turned off the lamp. He had a job to see about tomorrow.

  *

  Friday morning, Miles dressed and went to meet the man who had left the note. He entered the restaurant and questioned a hostess, who pointed out Oscar Porter seated across the room. Miles thanked her and made his way over to the table. “Mr. Porter?”

  The man looked up from his newspaper and coffee. “Yes.”

  He extended his hand. “Miles Cooper.”

  A wide grin covered his face. “Yes, yes. Please have a seat, and call me Oscar.” He folded up the paper and placed it next to his plate. “Have you eaten yet?”

  “Yes, sir.” The dark-skinned Oscar looked to be a decade older than Miles’s twenty-eight years, had a raspy voice and wore his hair slicked back.

  “Well, let’s get right to it. My piano player has been laid low for a few days with a fever and the band is scheduled to play at the Cotton Club starting tonight for a week. A friend of mine heard you playing over at the Magnolia Club and suggested I get in touch. Are you a regular there?”

  The Cotton Club? Miles kept his excitement hidden. “No, sir. I’m in between jobs right now.” He listened as Oscar laid out the details and felt his eyes widen at the salary. He’d make more money in a week than he ever had. The Cotton Club had been previously owned by ex-boxer Jack Johnson and called Club De Luxe.

  Owney Madden, a known gangster had taken it over in 1923 and given it its current name. He had a Whites only policy, except for the entertainment and staff. The dancers for his floorshow had to be light-skinned, at least five feet, six inches tall and under twenty-one years old.

  “How are you at improvising?”

  “The best you’ll ever find.” Miles’s father taught him well and Miles was ahead of his time when it came to music. They both smiled. Oscar told him more about his band. The ten-piece Oscar Porter Orchestra had been together for five years and was considered one of many territory bands that traveled around playing one-nighters. Miles wanted to ask how they happened upon the Cotton Club gig, but held his question. From all the information Oscar related, it appeared that the band had become pretty popular. He did ask about where to meet and at what time, as well as whether they had uniforms.

  “No uniforms. Just a black suit, white shirt and black bow tie. The one you’re wearing will work just fine. Anything else?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then I’ll see you tonight.” Oscar rose to his feet.

  Miles followed suit and noted that Oscar stood a good four inches shorter than his own six-foot height. The two men shook hands and Miles left Oscar to finish his coffee. He wasn’t particularly fond of bow ties, preferring the silk necktie. However, for fifty-five dollars, he’d pretend. He stopped a men’s clothing shop on the way home to purchase one and spent time making sure his suit was pressed just so and his shoes buffed to a shine.
Miles thought about stopping in to see Leigh before heading over, but changed his mind. He only had an hour and it wouldn’t be nearly enough time. Besides, she had to sing tonight, as well. Too bad he couldn’t bring her along with him. They made magic together and he had to find a way to prove it to her.

  He arrived at the building on the corner of Lennox Avenue and 142nd Street at the appointed time and Oscar introduced him to the other band members. Most were welcoming, but two seemed skeptical, which was understandable since none had ever heard him play.

  Miles had his first look inside the Cotton Club minutes later. There were two levels of tables placed in the shape of a horseshoe, murals painted on the walls, fake palm trees filled corners and Colored waiters in red tuxedos moved amongst the sea of White faces dressed in their finery and jewels. He scanned the stage area and his eyes widened slightly. The bandstand had been set a few steps up from the main floor and had large white columns. Weeping willows and slave quarters were painted on the wall. It felt as if he had stumbled onto a mansion on a southern slave plantation. His gut churned at the sight and he turned away.

  By the end of the second night, Miles’s initial enthusiasm had waned considerably. The mood and style of music had him feeling like some exotic animal on display in a jungle. He would finish his commitment to the band, but doubted he would perform there again. Because the club opened at nine for dinner and dancing, the floor shows starting around midnight and the final performance ending right before the three in the morning closing, he hadn’t had a chance to see Leigh and he missed her terribly. But he planned to rectify that Friday night, as soon as he was done.

  *

  “What do you mean Frank can’t play the piano?” Leigh leaned forward on the barstool. She had come down to keep Liz company Friday evening before the dinner crowd arrived.

  Liz exhaled deeply and placed another glass on the shelf. “Gambling. The fool got into a scuffle over something after we left the Perkins’s apartment last Thursday.”

  Her brows knit in confusion. “That was a week ago. He’s been playing fine since then.” Friday night was one of the busiest evenings and if they didn’t have a piano player, Liz might have to cancel the show.

  “Apparently, he owed some money and the men came to collect last night. He didn’t have it. They beat him pretty badly.” She shook her head and released a deep sigh. “I told him over and over to stop playing with those men.”

  “So did I,” Leigh said sadly. Some of them were tied to the gangsters around the city. She felt bad for Frank and wished he had listened to them. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “I hope so. But that means I need to find another piano player.” Liz paused. “Have you seen Miles since last week?”

  “No.” She assumed he had bowed to her wishes to keep his distance. “Why?” When Liz didn’t answer immediately, a sense of dread crept up her spine. “Liz, please don’t tell me you’re thinking of asking him to take Frank’s place.”

  “Okay, I won’t. But do you know anyone better? I don’t need to remind you how the audience responded to the two of you. It makes perfect business sense.”

  Leigh sighed. Her nice life was on the verge of spinning out of control. No way would she be able to resist Miles if she had to see him every night. Although the news didn’t make her happy, it would be unfair to interfere in her friend’s business. Liz had worked hard to establish her upscale dinner club and had given Leigh the chance to pursue her own dreams in the process. If people stopped coming, Liz would be out of business. And Leigh would be out of a steady job. For the first time since moving, she felt a sense of peace and security and had no desire to mess it up. “What if he left town already?” It wouldn’t be the first time he skipped out.

  Liz put her hands on her hips and snorted. “Honey, that man ain’t going nowhere right now. I’m not blind. The way he looked at you on that dance floor had every woman in the room wishing she were in your shoes. I could feel the heat clear across the room.” She fanned herself.

  The intensity of his gaze came back to her with vivid clarity. Leigh hadn’t been able to get the kiss out of her mind. Her hand tingled in remembrance and she rubbed the spot, willing it to stop. She buried her head in her hands. “Why did he have to show up now, just when I’m finally getting settled?”

  “Clearly the man is taken with you and maybe this time things will work out. But, if you want the answer to that question, I suggest you ask him yourself.” Liz gestured toward the front door.

  She spun on her stool and saw Miles entering. Their eyes met and the corner of his mouth kicked up in a smile. The suit he wore looked to be new, as did the hat, and he still was the most handsome man she’d ever known. Her pulse skipped. Why does he always affect me this way? The closer he came, the faster her heart pounded in her chest. She heard Liz’s soft laughter. Finally, she tore her gaze away and shifted to face Liz. “What?”

  “You. I thought you weren’t attracted to him. The way you’re staring at him leads me to believe you haven’t been honest with me…or yourself.”

  Leigh opened her mouth to refute the claim, but closed it. She had never had a problem dismissing another man’s attentions, but this time, despite her best efforts, nothing worked. She didn’t want to be attracted to Miles, but it seemed fate had other plans.

  When Miles reached the bar, he removed his hat and nodded a greeting to Liz. Then he slid onto the seat next to Leigh and trained his dark gaze on her. “How’ve you been, Leigh?”

  “Okay. And you?”

  “Good.”

  She wanted to ask where he had been over the past week, but she wasn’t supposed to care. Besides, she’d told him to stay away.

  “I missed you, girl,” Miles said quietly. “And before that mind of yours starts thinking the worst, I had a job over at the Cotton Club, filling in as pianist for the Oscar Porter Orchestra.”

  Leigh averted her eyes. He’d summed up her thoughts. “That’s quite an honor. Are you going to be playing there for a while?” If he had the job there, he couldn’t fill in for Frank.

  He shook his head. “It was just temporary, until their pianist recovered from an illness. The band will be moving on to another city tomorrow. They asked me to travel with them, but I told them I couldn’t go.”

  “Why?”

  “I have a more pressing engagement here. You.”

  She hazarded a glance Liz’s way and Liz gave her a look that said, “I told you so.”

  Miles grasped her hand. “I know you asked me to stay away, and I tried, God knows I did, but it’s not working, sweetheart.”

  Leigh really needed him to stop looking at her like this. His sincere expression was making it hard to fight her feelings for him.

  “So, Miles,” Liz said, coming back their way, “did I hear you say you don’t have a job right now?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m in need of a piano player who can start immediately.”

  He divided a glance between Leigh and Liz. “What happened to Frank?”

  Liz told him the same thing she’d told Leigh.

  “Damn,” he whispered. “I didn’t know he was involved in the scuffle.”

  “You were there?” Leigh asked.

  “At the start, but I hightailed it out of there before it spilled into the front room.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Let’s just say I didn’t want to get caught in the middle of something that wasn’t my concern and come out on the short end again.”

  Had he been injured in a brawl? Leigh searched his face. “You were hurt?”

  “I’m good. So, what about this job, Miss Liz?”

  “I just need to know if you want it. I can’t afford to lose business with all these new places cropping up.”

  “How long will you need me?”

  “At least a month. I doubt Frank will be up and around before then. And did I tell you the pay?” She wrote down something on a piece of paper and slid it across the bar.


  She knew Liz would offer him a salary that guaranteed a yes answer.

  Miles smiled and glanced at Leigh before saying, “Miss Liz, you’ve got yourself a piano player for as long as you need.”

  Liz smiled and clapped her hands. “Thank you.”

  Leigh didn’t know whether to shout Hallelujah! or get as far away from him as possible.

  “You think we can go for a walk, Leigh?” Miles asked. “We won’t go far.”

  She hesitated briefly. “Sure.” He offered his hand to help her down, but didn’t let go. He escorted her out the front of the restaurant and they started a leisurely stroll up the street. For the first few minutes neither spoke. People they passed spoke or nodded and she responded in kind.

  “Are you okay with me taking this job?”

  Her steps slowed and she glanced up at him. “If I wasn’t would you reconsider?”

  He didn’t answer.

  Leigh eased her hand from his and picked up the pace again. “I’m sorry. That’s not fair. I know how much music means to you and I’ll do anything to help Liz. She took me in when I got here, made sure I had a place to stay and helped me get on my feet. Now she’s offered me a chance to headline at her club when she could have found someone far more popular. So, yes, I’m fine with anything that will keep the doors open.”

  “She seems like a nice lady.”

  “She’s been like a sister to me.” She thought it a good time to bring up their relationship. “I think we should stick with just working together and concentrate on giving the audience a good show.”

  Miles glanced down at her. “Do you now? What if I told you I don’t think that’s going to happen?”