When Stars Are Bright

by Amber R. Duell

  “Stay here,” Chamberlain tells the driver. “We’ll only be gone a few minutes.”

  Chamberlain scoots out of the car, and I narrow my eyes at his narrow back. I want to lock the door before he can come around to my side of the vehicle, but I force myself to sit still. Barricading myself in the car with his driver won’t resolve anything but getting a layout of the city before I run away might do some good. When Chamberlain opens the door and offers his hand, I accept it. I shiver at the touch, his fingers icicles in the heat. Let go, let go, let go.

  Today I’ll play along. I’ll survive this outing because there’s still hope buried under all the pain. Christian has abandoned me, that much I understand, but within a few days, I’ll tell myself today is the day. And now I’ll know where to go.

  Chamberlain tucks my hand in the crook of his arm and his bony elbow pokes at me through the velvet. “I’m glad you decided to come,” he says. “It’s a real treat.”

  If by treat he means torture. He may try to come across as a gentleman, but I’m not buying it. There’s something wrong with this man. I know it, Nik knows it, and deep down I think Augustine knows it, too. Earlier, she watched me leave with a tired expression, telling me to have fun, but keep my wits about me. It’s not a glowing recommendation, if you ask me. Especially coming from his friend.

  “I’m glad too,” I lie.

  “There’s far too much to see in one day, so I chose a few interesting stops. You’ll have to let me know if I’m tiring you out.” He pats my hand. “We can come back any time to see more.”

  I keep my breath shallow, trying not to let my anger, confusion, and hurt spill over. The only one getting tired today will be him, the old buzzard. Whatever he shows me today will be the extent of my New York experience.

  “Look,” he points through the trees. “There she is.”

  I squint in the direction of his finger but don’t see anyone he could be talking about. The few men sitting on posts near the water are too involved with their own conversation. “Are we meeting someone?”

  He chuckles, dropping his arm so mine falls at my side, and stands behind me. His hands find my waist and he twists me an inch. Goosebumps prickle my skin, and I set my jaw. Don’t vomit.

  “The Green Lady,” he rasps.

  The Statue of Liberty stands proudly in the distance. I shudder at the sight. She may be a sign of freedom to millions of people, but not me. I’m a prisoner here, trapped an ocean away from home with nothing more than a small sliver of hope and an increasingly flawed escape plan. The only time I want to see this statue again is when I’m sailing away from it.

  Chamberlain’s face turns stony. “You don’t like it?”

  “She’s lovely,” I tell him to keep the peace. The sooner we move on, the sooner this will be over.

  He stares off across the water. “Do you see that? In the sky?”

  Billows of smoke rise from industrial chimneys across the water. I’d have to be blind to miss it. “Yes.”

  “They’re burning coal.”

  The stacks reach up, yawning wide into the gray sky. “It would appear so.”

  “Do you know where coal comes from, Miss Holt?” His fingers tighten on my waist.

  “It’s mined.” I peer sideways at him to see if that’s enough of an answer. I don’t know the first thing about mining coal.

  “It is.” He inhales slowly. “Most of the coal here comes from my mines and business is doing well despite the economic situation.”

  “You’re a coal baron?” The fact that he has money was never in question but the source of his income was a mystery. It’s nice to know it’s legally acquired anyway. “Impressive.”

  “Fortunately, I was smart enough not to invest my fortune. Cash never spoils.”

  “I see.”

  He makes a low noise and turns away. I roll my eyes, keeping my gaze on the giant statue. He must’ve expected a much larger response, but I’m not affected. Knowing the Van Buren family opened my eyes to one thing: money doesn’t make someone better. It simply makes them richer. It’s one of a thousand other things defining who a person is, and it’s never something to base a friendship on. Not that Chamberlain’s after friendship. In fact, I’m fairly certain he’s the type of rich man my mother warned me about—the kind she thinks Christian is.

  The kind he is. It’s hard to reconcile the Christian I know with what he’s done.

  I follow Chamberlain back to the car and, once inside, he snaps his fingers. The driver pulls back into traffic, leaving the park behind. My body feels heavy as the city swallows us again. This place is overpowering in every way. I don’t know how people live here. Even if the parks are lovely, the buildings cover everything else in shadow. The noise of people and traffic is constant. It’s maddening.

  “The Chrysler Building.” Chamberlain leans over me, his voice light again. “They just finished it a few months ago.”

  The building looms so high that I can’t see the top from inside the car. Sun glints off thousands of windows and I shade my eyes. The architecture is magnificent; massive and strong yet elegant. “Wow.” And I mean it.

  “It’s taller than the Eiffel Tower,” he whispers. I cringe away from his stale breath on my neck.

  I’ve never been to France, but I imagine it’s true. There can’t possibly be anything larger than this. It nearly reaches the heavens. “It’s like it was built for giants.”

  His finger traces behind my ear, down my jaw line. “It’s comprised of many levels,” he says. “Naturally.”

  I grip the door handle. The tangy taste of blood blossoms between my teeth as I bite the inside of my cheek. “Of course.” Somehow I manage to keep my voice level. One more move and I’m jumping out of this car, moving or not. There are limits to what I’ll do for a roof over my head.

  “How about a song, my sweet girl? Just for me.”

  I clench my jaw tightly.

  “Come now. With all I’ve done for you, it isn’t right to keep me wanting like this. We need the audience begging for another dose of Symric magic, but not me.”

  “I should save my voice.”

  “The rest of the troupe is well satisfied with daily practices,” he practically whines.

  Chamberlain’s fingers slide down the front of my throat and I shiver. “You say that as if I can keep them from listening.”

  “Do you see those people?” He lifts his hand from my skin. “There.”

  I tear my gaze away from the building to see a man and a woman sitting on the sidewalk. Their legs are tucked close so they’re as out of the way as possible. A bit of dirt smears their faces, and their clothes have seen better days, but it’s the look on their faces pulling at my heartstrings. Sadness. Loss. Desperation. These aren’t like the people I know back home, tired after a long day of hard labor. These people are broken.

  “What happened to them?”

  He waves dismissively. “If I had to venture a guess, they lost their jobs and couldn’t make rent.”

  I want to look away but can’t. This isn’t the first time I’m seeing the effects of the depression; Nik took me in the midst of it when we went to the river, but it’s the first time I recognize what I’m looking at. Men carry signs asking for employment and children walk down the street with holes in their shoes. In Holland, there were whisperings of the economy in America but it’s not the same as seeing it first-hand. It never is.

  I suck in air. “How awful.”

  Chamberlain hums. “If Auggie hadn’t agree to let you stay on, that would be you.”

  My jaw drops. If she hadn’t agreed? She asked me to stay, not the other way around. “Mr. Chamberlain—”

  He holds his hand in the air. “Spare me the righteous speech. It’s a benefit to everyone that you’re here, including myself.”

  I twist to look at him. “How does it benefit you?”

  He scowls. “I’m the troupe’s patron. Of course, it’s good for me if there’s a star act. Vaudeville is having a ha
rd go of it so anything that helps Auggie keep things going. I promised I’d look after her when she became a widow.” He rubs at his nose. “She had no one else to turn to, like you.”

  “So you helped her.” I wonder what his help cost Augustine and a sense of dread creeps over me.

  Chamberlain grips my knee with stiff fingers. “There are precious few things in life money can’t buy. For example, a son to inherit my empire.”

  Blood freezes in my veins. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re implying.”

  “I need a legitimate heir.” He shifts closer. “And a wife young enough to give me one. All the better if she has special gifts to pass onto my children.”

  I want no part of him or the show or his stupid coal, and I’m not stupid enough to let this go any further. Let him be offended and pull support from the troupe. It makes no difference to me, but my self-worth is another thing. “Stop the car.”

  The driver stiffens in his seat. “Sir?”

  Chamberlain’s stare digs into me and the sharpness sends me shrinking into myself. “Stop the car,” he repeats with clipped words.

  The car rolls up to the curb, and I grope for the handle.

  “Where are you going?” His fingers tighten on my leg.

  “I’ll walk back from here.” I shove the door open and stumble to sidewalk. I’ll figure out where I am eventually but there’s no way I’m getting back in the vehicle with him.

  “Lina,” he calls after me.

  My heels pound against the concrete. From the corner of my eye, I see the car circle around to follow and I break into a run. People leap from of my path as I barrel around the corner and a siren blasts in the distance. I pump my legs faster. Fear sweeps over me, though I’ve done nothing wrong. Leaving before a man can make unwelcome advances is smart, not illegal. But he’s rich. Another thing the Van Buren family taught me is when you have too much money, it’s easy to get your way. Mr. Van Buren’s attempt to pay me off can’t be the first time he’s bought someone’s cooperation. There’s a chance my mother is the first to tell him no though.

  After a few turns, I stop, gasping for air. There’s no sign of Chamberlain behind me, and I don’t want to get myself more lost than I already am, if that’s possible. I look up at the towering buildings and raise my fingers to my lips. They all look the same and I can’t see beyond them to the next street. I can’t remember the address to the boarding house to ask for directions, but if I find the river, I might find the bridge Nik and I were near. From there maybe I can sort things out—it’s only a few turns. Once I get in the neighborhood, someone should know the house by name.

  “Excuse me,” I say to a woman. “Which way is the Hudson River?” She points to the left without breaking stride. At least I’m starting off in the right direction. I can only hope Chamberlain doesn’t cause any trouble for me. Fat chance. He’s probably on his way to complain about me to Augustine now.

  “Lina?”

  I jolt, looking around for who could possibly know me here, and see a woman waving frantically across the street. It takes a moment to recognize Jackie under her wide brimmed hat. My shoulders sag with relief.

  “Cross over,” she yells.

  I hesitate. She’s my ticket back to the boarding house, but we haven’t had a chance to really talk since the day she apologized. Theresa isn’t anywhere to be seen, so I’m confident I won’t be tossed to the wolves, but there’s a strong possibility it will be awkward.

  I wait for a car to pass before dashing across the street. “Hi, Jackie.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asks brightly. She’s wearing a loose royal blue dress with pleating beneath a wide band hugging her hips. “I thought you were spending the day with Mr. Chamberlain.”

  “I was.” I look over my shoulder again to make sure he isn’t nearby. “He was… I left.”

  “He got handsy, didn’t he?”

  A raw, creeping feeling slithered down my spine. “It probably wasn’t the best idea to jump out in the middle of the city.”

  “No, that was the best idea.” She shakes her head. “Perverted old rummy. I can’t believe Madam Augustine made you go with him. If you call the boarding house, one of the guys will come pick you up. Really, they won’t mind.”

  “Call? There’s a phone?” My pulse hammers. There must be some kind of confusion; she can’t mean the boarding house. Maybe the repairman finally fixed the one at The Den. “At the theater?”

  “No. No one’s at the theater today.”

  My vision tunnels. “There’s a phone at the boarding house?”

  Jackie blinks, her brow creasing.“Of course there is. It’s in the alcove across from the dining room. Who told you there wasn’t?”

  I bare my teeth, a heat flushing through my body. “Augustine.”

  Jackie frowns. “I don’t know why she’d tell you that. Haven’t you phoned home? I know long distance is really expensive but under the circumstances…”

  “Not yet,” I clip. I promised Nik I wouldn’t tell about the call. I don’t know why Augustine would lie to me, but I don’t like it one bit. After throwing me at Chamberlain, I shouldn’t be shocked. I need to breathe, to think, before I make a rash decision.

  “What are you doing here? Is Theresa with you?” I ask to change the subject.

  “Goodness, no. She won’t help with promotion.”

  She holds up a stack of fliers with The Den in big block letters. Beneath, a few of the bigger acts are listed. My name, in letters twice the size of the others, is at the top. They’re marketing me as Little Lina. My nostrils flare.

  Jackie splits the pile in two. “Do you want to help? The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can get out of here.”

  “All right.” I take one of the stacks, eying my stage name. I’m sure it wasn’t Jackie’s decision so I swallow my disdain and, for the first time, I’m glad Theresa thinks she’s too good for something. “I just hand them to people when they walk by?”

  She nods. “We usually hang them around town but Madam Augustine wants to get the word out about you. You ditching Mr. Chamberlain might work to our advantage. If the public sees you out here looking this cute, maybe they’ll be more inclined to come.”

  “I wish she wouldn’t use me as a selling point. I’m only staying until I have enough money to leave,” I admit. I’ll have to cash in whatever Augustine owes me. I’m not sure it will be enough yet but anything is better than nothing. “It makes me feel... I don’t know. Indebted, maybe.”

  Jackie smiles at a man passing by and holds a paper out to him. “Don’t think of it that way. If things go right, we’ll get noticed before you’re gone. We only need a foot in the door.”

  I pass a flier to a couple. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m surprised you called out to me today. You didn’t have to. I wouldn’t have seen you otherwise.”

  She winces, her cheeks flushing. “Theresa’s difficult if you don’t agree with her.”

  “I got that impression.” When she turned an entire group of people against me for no reason. Well, everyone except Nik. He doesn’t seem to care about Theresa but someone else ensured his distance. “I swear I’m not trying to steal her spotlight. I wouldn’t even be on stage if I didn’t have to.”

  “I know, and I think she knows too.” Jackie laughs nervously. “But, the attention I showed you is why she took things to such an extreme; we got into a fight about it after she saw you on the porch that day. She’s convinced I’ll find someone else. It happened with her last girlfriend so I suppose she assumes it will happen with me too.”

  “Girlfriend?” I look over at her, about to ask if she means dance partner, and pause. Her cheeks blaze and the look she gives a passerby lacks her genuine smile. “You’re together?”

  “I thought you knew. Nik didn’t tell you? Oh God, I thought he did.”

  I shake my head. Theresa isn’t worried about a temporary singer. She’s worried her lover will leave her for the new girl.
>
  “Please don’t tell anyone,” she says in a low rush. “Madam Augustine knows, and a couple others, but not everyone would approve.”

  “It’s not my secret to tell,” I assure her.

  Minutes pass where we concentrate on the fliers. It’s not my place to give her relationship advice, to tell her she deserves to be treated better, when my own love unraveled so easily. I had placed hope in Christian too and look where it got me. Nowhere fast, leaving my heart a shattered mess. Every breath aches in my tightening chest. I take a steadying gulp of air—I can’t think about him right now.

  A woman rushes up to us, shouting and dragging a man behind her. “It’s you!”

  “I… um…” I look to Jackie for help.

  “It is! You’re the singer at that vaudeville show. Can you sing a little something now? My husband doesn’t believe me when I say you’re going to be bigger than Ruth Etting.”

  Her eyes are wild with desperation, and I’m suddenly aware of all the others watching the scene. A real crowd has gathered without my noticing. There are no muscle men standing between us for protection here, though I’m not entirely convinced they would make a difference. The men and woman look on with lustful eyes, inching closer. I press against Jackie’s side.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  Her fingers latch onto my arm. “Just a few notes?”

  My patience for this day is about to break. The only thing keeping me from screaming is the growing closeness of the crowd.

  Jackie shifts so I’m partially behind her and holds out a flyer. “You’re welcome to come see the show.”

  A multitude of voices rise up, drowning out the woman’s reply. She doesn’t take the paper from Jackie, but reaches for me. Other hands follow. They scrape at my skin and dig at my clothes. There’s tugging and screaming. A scuffle breaks out somewhere, but all my brain registers is the word sing. It sounds as if there are hundreds of voices instead of the dozen or so pressing in on us.

  “Run,” Jackie shouts, and yanks me away from them all.