I often wondered how she managed to keep the table empty when every single other table in the club was claimed. No one ever went near it and it remained our own special corner of the club in which we were able to observe everything that happened without having to crane too much to see. I began wondering if being friendly with the owner didn’t have something to do with it.
“Wait here,” Mimi said as I slid into a chair. “I’ll get us drinks—and find your dance partner.”
I felt curiously nervous as I waited for Mimi to return with Frankie. I was anxious and excited to see him. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same.
When Mimi returned a few minutes later, drinks in hand and Frankie in tow, I got to my feet to greet him. A nervous smile was on my lips as Frankie’s eyes met mine and I was relieved to see that he looked just as anxious as I felt. But it all quickly melted away as he settled down beside me while Mimi passed us our drinks.
“Golly, I feel as if it’s been years since we last saw you,” Mimi exclaimed to Frankie, who had dropped his eyes when I looked at him.
“I suppose,” he said, looking uncomfortable.
I tried to offer him a warm smile, but he wouldn’t look at me. Perhaps I had been wrong all along and he didn’t like me the same.
There was a brief silence until Mimi shot suddenly to her feet, a sly grin on her face as she looked between me and Frankie.
“Right,” she said, “drink, talk. I’ll be back.” And then she was gone, leaving Frankie and I to sit in a slightly awkward silence.
Sipping my sidecar, I shot him a glance over the rim of the glass. He was tapping his fingers nervously on the table, glancing periodically over his shoulder as if he was waiting for someone. I suspected that that someone was either Mimi or one of his brothers. But then he would look back to me, see me watching him, turn red and quickly look away before starting the process all over again.
Unable to bear the silence any longer and desperate to strike up a conversation with him, I slid my sidecar a few inches off to the side and leaned against the table, an expectant look on my face as I asked, “How long have you been in New York?”
He turned a curious eye to me and I flushed.
“I-I only wondered because you’ve still got your accent,” I explained quickly, feeling stupid and embarrassed.
“Oh.” Frankie shifted slightly so that he was facing me a little more. “I’ve been here since I was about five.”
“Do you like it here?” I wondered.
He nodded. “I do. I don’t really remember Ireland, though,” he said quickly, as if he had guessed my next question.
The conversation fell flat and I tried again.
“Where are your brothers?”
“Connor is here,” he replied, then, under his breath, added, “Somewhere.”
“And Liam?”
Frankie seemed a little surprised that I had remembered his brothers’ name, but answered all the same.
“He stayed home,” he said. “He’s got a girl in Brooklyn, Emilia, that he’s been seeing. He doesn’t want to come out unless we’ve got a gig.”
“Do you like her?” I asked him.
“Who? Emilia?”
I nodded.
“She’s nice,” he allowed. “And Mam likes her, which makes Liam happy.”
I propped my elbow up on the table and leaned my chin into it. “Do you think they’ll get married?”
Frankie shrugged. “It’s still kinda early,” he replied. “But I think they might.”
Connor appeared at the edge of the crowd for a split second before he was swallowed back up again. Even from the brief glance I got of him, I could see laughter in his eyes as he spun a girl around.
“And Connor?” I smiled a little as Frankie shook his head slightly. “What do you think will happen with him?”
“Oh, Mam thinks he’ll wind up with a whole brood if he isn’t more careful,” Frankie revealed then turned pink, looking as though he had said too much. “But I’m sure he’ll be fine once he finds the right girl.”
“I’m sure.”
Silence fell again, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.
“What’s your mother like?” I asked suddenly, surprising Frankie. “Does she support you and your brothers with the music?”
Frankie laughed. “Hardly. But she accepts it because it brings us extra money.” He looked away, towards the dancing couples. “She thinks it’s a waste of time, to be honest. She doesn’t understand why anyone would want to stand on a stage and sing for about an hour to a crowd that doesn’t listen.”
Then he surprised me by asking, “What about your mam? Does she like the idea of you being a concert pianist?”
“In her own way,” I answered honestly. “She didn’t like it at all, at first. I kept begging her to get me a trial for years. She finally did, but it was small things where hardly anyone showed up. She told me I should give it up last year, but I wouldn’t listen. I wanted Carnegie Hall. I told her that if she gave me that, then I’d stop.” I grinned at the memory.
Mama had been sitting across from me at dinner and I thought she was going to throw her wine at me. But she didn’t. Instead, she listened to my proposition.
“But you won’t, will you?” Frankie guessed.
My smile faded and I picked up my sidecar. When I sat it down again, I finally said, “I’m not so sure I want to play in the Hall anymore.”
Frankie looked taken aback. “Why not?”
“I chose a difficult piece and instead of me doing the smart thing and picking something else, I keep trying to learn it,” I explained with a forced smile. “I’m starting to hate it. It feels like, if I don’t learn that particular sonata, then I’m not good enough and then I shouldn’t be playing in Carnegie Hall.” I shrugged, embarrassed. “It’s silly, I know, but...”
Trailing off, I stared hard at the table.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught movement and when I looked back up, I saw Frankie extend his hand to me.
“Would you care to dance?” he asked, a soft smile on his lips.
I couldn’t keep the smile from my face as I placed my hand in his, my heart beating madly in my chest as he pulled me into the midst of the dancing.
After taking a moment to acquaint ourselves with the other’s dancing abilities, we were soon spinning round and round the floor. I was laughing and giddy while we danced, feeling his hands pressed against my waist. As we danced, I realized just how much I did not want the night to end.
After several songs, with my feet aching and my breaths coming in sharp gasps, Frankie led me back to the table which was, to my surprise, empty. I hadn’t exactly expected Mimi to stay in her seat, but I hadn’t seen her dancing with anyone, either.
It was getting late and Mimi was nowhere to be found. I needed to get home, but I wasn’t going to leave without at least telling her first.
Frankie, sensing my distress, pointed to a dark hallway at the other end of the club, saying, “I saw her over there a while ago with the owner.”
I frowned, confused.
“Why would she go down there?” I wondered.
Frankie shrugged. “I couldn’t say, but I do see her go down there a lot,” he replied.
“She does?”
Frankie bobbed his head.
“Why?”
“I really don’t know,” he said, looking sincere. “Connor and Liam haven’t noticed before, but every time we play here—and usually only if you aren’t here—I see her sitting with Mr. Basso.”
“But why?” I asked again.
Frankie looked suddenly extremely uncomfortable.
“Frankie?” I asked. “What is it?”
“Well, some of the people around here,” he began slowly, “well, they... she’s his... they’re sort of...”
“A couple?” I suggested.
Frankie looked unsure.
“I don’t know if they’re considered a couple,” he said. A look of concentration crosse
d his face then he snapped his fingers, looking excited. “Dame! That’s what they call her! She’s his dame.”
“Dame?” I echoed, the word wholly unfamiliar to me.
The discomfort was back on his face. “I won’t explain it, so don’t ask me. Just know that that’s what Mimi is to Mr. Basso and that it isn’t exactly a good thing.”
Images of Mimi crying on her bed, her face splotchy and swollen from the tears, flashed through my mind.
“He makes her do things, doesn’t he?” I asked in a flat voice.
Frankie shrugged. “I don’t know anything but what I hear from the others, and that’s all I’ve heard.”
With a small shake of my head, I got to my feet.
“Well, I need to get home.” My tone was crisp and as I started for the door, Frankie hot on my heels, I scanned the crowd uselessly for Mimi, hoping, perhaps, that she was sitting near the bar. But she wasn’t and then I was pulling on my coat and Frankie was offering me his company.
Pushing Mimi from my mind, I accepted and, together, we walked slowly through the streets. Our hands kept brushing against one another’s and every time they touched, my heart skipped and my stomach lurched. There hadn’t been any serious crush when I was younger, none that I had wanted to get to know more of outside of a dinner party. But as I walked beside Frankie, our conversation light and easy, I felt that he was someone I could talk to all day and never get tired.
By the time we stepped out of East Harlem and into the Upper East Side, exhaustion was beginning to set in and I was starting to walk in crooked lines, often bumping into Frankie. I would apologize for my clumsiness and he would laugh, saying he was just as much at fault as I was. But as I wasn’t in any rush to get home, I slowed our pace even more. I wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye just yet and I liked the way he made me feel.
When we finally reached my front door, I turned back to say good night and to thank him for walking me home when I saw his eyes go wide with quiet wonder as he took in the face of my house.
“You live here?” he asked, stunned.
I nodded, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I do. And I’d invite you, but it’s quite late,” I said with a small laugh. And Mama doesn’t know I left.
Frankie shook his head, looking suddenly annoyed as he dropped his eyes from my house to me. “It’s alright.”
He kept his tone light, but I could read a darker emotion in his face. Was he angry? Embarrassed? Ashamed? Why had seeing my house changed his mood entirely?
“And your parents know you go to speakeasies?” Frankie wanted to know.
“Mama knows,” I admitted, the memory of her threats earlier echoing in my head. “She doesn’t like it and I really shouldn’t have come out tonight, but...” I trailed off, my hand going back to my hair. “I really wanted to.”
Frankie chuckled at that and it seemed to dispel his dark mood.
“Me mam isn’t keen on us going to the clubs, either,” he confessed, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets. “But she knows we need the money, so she bears it as best as she can. And besides, it gets us out of the house which, as she says, gives her time for ‘peace and relaxation’.”
“Are you all a handful?” I asked, grinning and Frankie laughed.
“Connor is,” he said. “He’s forever getting into fights and such. It drives Mam mad, but he’s always been hot-headed. He’s like our father in that way. He was the one who always picked fights with me and Liam while Mam refereed. It was almost always over Connor eating our sweets or playing with our toys.”
I felt a twinge of jealousy at his words, that I didn’t get to know what it felt like to have a sibling. But I pushed the feeling aside and stepped closer to Frankie.
“Well, I guess I better get inside,” I said after a long pause, the cold night finally seeping into my skin. “Thanks for walking me home.”
“Sure,” he said with a warm smile.
I hesitated then said, “I hope I’ll see you again soon. I’m sure I’ll be out next week with Mimi.”
Even in the dim light of the streetlamps, I saw Frankie’s complexion darken.
“I’ll come,” he assured me.
Fighting a smile, I lingered then, letting courage propel me forward, I stood on tiptoe and lightly kissed Frankie’s cheek.
Turning on my heel, I hurried inside and closed the door softly behind me the, going into the sitting room, I peered out of the window as watched Frankie round the corner and disappear from sight.
Sleep came easily that night and when I awoke the next morning, it was to the memory of the night before.
A little before lunch, however, I was surprised by Danielle showing Mimi into the sitting room where I had been reading The Other Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
Getting to my feet immediately at her entrance, I said, “Mimi? What are you doing here? Is anything the matter?”
Mimi looked paler than usual and her eyes were wide, an almost crazed look in them as she twisted her hands before her.
“C-can we take a walk?” she asked me, her voice cracking slightly.
“Of course.”
I knew she wanted to tell me something, so I waited somewhat patiently for her to broach the topic, but as we created tracks around the city without her once mentioning it, I began to grow impatient. The sun was high in the sky and my stomach was rumbling with hunger by the time Mimi suggested we stop in at a cafe near Times Square.
Still, though, she would talk about everything and anything except what I knew she was dying to tell me.
Still more curious was that she kept looking out into the street while we ate. She would trail off mid-sentence and with only a little prompting from me, would return to the cafe—and me—and pick up right where she left off.
By the time I had finished my plate—she hadn’t touched a bite—I had grown agitated with her constant fidgeting and demanded she tell me what was going on.
“Nothing,” she said, a little too innocently, her voice rising slightly.
Liar. “Mimi, what is it?” I asked again. “You can tell me anything, you know.”
But she shook her head resolutely, her mouth clamped shut.
I sighed then hesitated before saying in a rush, “Frankie told me the men at the Golden Sparrow say you’re Mr. Basso’s dame. Is it true?”
Mimi’s head shot up, a real look of her fury crackling in her dark eyes.
“It’s no one’s business,” she snapped. “And it isn’t any of yours, either.”
Stunned, I sat back in my seat, mouth agape at her sudden outburst.
This wasn’t my Mimi. My Mimi would never have snapped at me, no matter how irritated with me she was. And now that I was really looking at her, I could see the dark circles under her eyes, could see that her face appeared thinner than usual. She looked exhausted and terrified and when she looked back out of the window for the hundredth time since we had sat down in the cafe, I saw an angry looking bruise under jaw.
“I’m only worried about you,” I said after a moment, my voice soft. “Surely you can’t fault me for that.”
“I can fault you for a lot of things,” Mimi said, a little unkindly. Then she sighed, looking as weary as I had ever seen her. “But worrying is not something I can be angry at you for.”
She reached across the table and I obligingly placed my hand in hers, giving hers a little comforting squeeze before releasing her and placing my hand back into my lap.
“I’m sorry I left you last night,” I offered and she laughed, a forced sound that did not reach her eyes.
“It’s alright,” she assured me. “You needed to get home and I was off dancing with someone. I understand.” Then she suddenly looked concerned. “Did you... you didn’t go alone, did you?”
“No.” A flush was creeping up into my cheeks. “Frankie took me home.”
A true, beaming smile split Mimi’s face and she pushed her untouched food aside before leaning eagerly against the table. She was clearly hoping to he
ar what had happened and some strange part of me was a little disappointed that she didn’t appear upset that I had gone home with Frankie.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I immediately said, but she didn’t appear deterred at all. “He walked me home. That’s it.”
She scrunched her nose and sat back. “Shame,” she said. “I think he really likes you.”
I really like him, I wanted to say, but instead I rolled my eyes and tried to ignore the fluttering in my stomach at her words.
“Well, I don’t think you know what you’re talking about,” I said with a grin.
Mimi laughed then I saw her eyes move back towards the window overlooking the street. Her face sudden lost all of its color and her mouth fell open, alarm crossing her features.
Without warning, she shot to her feet and the sudden movement drew the eyes of the other patrons in the cafe as whispers erupted over her strange behavior.”
“We have to go,” she said urgently, her voice quaking.
“Mimi, sit down,” I hissed, but she began pulling me to my feet.
“We need to go, Hazel. Now.”
At the panic in her voice, I stop resisting and followed her swiftly from the cafe and out into the chilly early afternoon.
We walked further away from our neighborhood and closer to Lower Manhattan.
“Mimi, are you ever going to tell me what’s going on?” I demanded to know.
She grabbed my hand in response and pulled me along, pushing roughly through people and barging recklessly across busy streets.
By the time she stopped, my feet were aching, sweat was beading down my temples and back, and there was a stitch forming in my side.
“What is going on?” I asked once more, panting heavily as I struggled to catch my breath.
Mimi finally looked at me, a pleading look in her eye. “I can’t tell you. I would, Hazel, honest I would, but I can’t. I can’t and you wouldn’t believe me anyways.”
“Are you—are you in trouble?” I grabbed her arm, holding her place, my eyes on the bruise. Then I saw her eyes land on a spot over my shoulder and I turned round to see a thin man hovering halfway down the block. His eyes were on us and I felt certain that he was what had Mimi running scared. I turned back around and asked her, “Is that what this is? Is it that man? Is it Mr. Basso?”
The Golden Sparrow Page 8