She frowned, remembering how horrible that night had been. She knew there had to be something more enjoyable about sex than what she’d experienced. Some women, like Meg and Rosie enjoyed it. Others endured it. But obviously men liked and needed it. Every time she thought of Ray heaving in and out of her without any regard for her feelings, she perspired like a river. She understood that she might have to permit a fella to have his way with her someday, but she was determined to avoid it until she was in control of the situation or the rewards were high enough to make it worth her while.
“What are you doing out there?” Rosie’s eyes went wide when she finally spotted Hanna standing outside the car; the lights of the half moon the only relief from the pitch dark.
“Oh, now you notice.” She pointed to the backseat of the car. Walter was passed out against the door, one hand placed protectively over his privates, his eye swelling and red where she’d punched him. He was snoring as loud as a bear with a sore paw.
Rosie looked at him and back to Hanna. “What did you do, clock him?”
“He…I…never mind…yes,” said Hanna, giggling as Rosie seeing how disgruntled she was began shaking with laughter too.
“Bunk,” cussed Hannah having just added an h to her name at Rosie’s insistence, adjusting the thin shoulder strap on her top that would not stay put. Two more indecent propositions, doors slammed in her face constantly and after weeks of searching, what seemed like a break, a job working at a real nightclub. But, after working for twelve days at the Fountain Theater five nights a week, known for its blonde waitresses and silly stage shows loaded with all kinds of risqué singing and dancing, Hannah wasn’t so sure this job was a break. Like her, most of the girls working here were young, hopeful and pretty. And, they all had show business dreams.
Her feet were killing her standing on high heels for fourteen hours a day. Tapping her red-painted toes to the lively stage music, she cursed the ridiculous get-ups they had to wear. Short red satin dresses with two layers of black fringe that flounced when they walked. They barely covered the top portion of their black silk stocking garters. It wouldn’t have been so bad if she were up on stage singing, instead of down below fighting off advances from the drunken patrons in the trenches, stimulated by the risqué antics onstage.
“Hey you, Blondie,” shouted the fat man at table number five, his empty beer mug raised, his equally obese wife shooting her dirty looks. Biting her bottom lip she wiped an errant strand of hair away from her perspiring face. Exhausted, her temper frayed at the seams, she forced herself to hold her head high and move towards them.
Swells, as well as the average, respectable Joe bolstered by a bit of giggle water would take unwanted liberties by sneaking a pat or a pinch on a passing derriere. Gentleman or not, married or not, no fella could be trusted when on the sauce. She winced every time she thought of Walter, when she’d gotten her steak dinner and a lot more to think about.
Like, thanks to Ray, a very inconvenient distrust of men. Smiling, she thought maybe she could be an actress. Gritting her teeth, in her sweetest voice, she purred, “Hi, now what can I bring you nice folks?”
“Hell’s Bell’s, Han, you look great. Love your shoulder-length permanent wave,” said Meg the moment she entered the lobby of The Jefferson Hotel for their first Saturday lunch together in three weeks.
“Couldn’t have done it without her,” said Hannah, pointing to Rosie. She’d worked hard to change, desperate to get a wiggle on and fit into her new life. “Or you. You’re both bees’ knees.” Gratitude and affection warmed her voice.
“You say, it’s the bee’s knees, tootsie,” giggled Rosie, correcting her.
“Oh go chase yourself,” teased Hannah using another expression they taught her. As soon as she saw them wince she cringed. “I used it wrong, didn’t I?
“We know you’re working hard to change, sweets.” Meg, dressed in a stylish green suit and netted cloche, hugged her effusively, then pulled back to examine her. “Why you vamp, it’s been ages.”
Rosie acted like a proud mother hen. Several admiring heads turned their way.
“You look just like Pola Negri, you siren,” said Hannah to Meg referring to Hollywood’s ultimate vamp.
“You’re more gorgeous then any of them.”
Looking into the gargantuan, gilded mirror behind Meg she saw a woman she barely recognized. She looked self assured and sophisticated in a short, slinky ice pink dress, pink coral beads swinging around her neck, a scarf tied becomingly around her hair, her earrings, nails, eyes and lips all matching. She knew she had far to go before her insides caught up to her outside. “How could I be a vamp, sexy and daring when I don’t know the first thing about flirtin’ let alone how to get men to fall down at my feet the way they do for you two? I think I’m frigid.”
“Okay, okay, let’s discuss that sitting down. I’m starving,” grumbled Rosie, eyeing the menu cards with hunger, rushing them both along.
Meg grabbed Hannah’s arm excitedly. “I meant to mention it sooner, but Alec talked to Booth, the manager here about your singing. He told him to call Tom directly. Alec hasn’t had a chance to yet, but I’m working on him,” she added smiling, fingers crossed. “And, if Booth is here I’ll introduce you. Can’t hurt for him to get a gander at you.”
Hannah squeezed Meg’s hand affectionately. She already owed her so much.
“A gift from Alec, I presume?” Rosie admired Meg’s diamond brooch.
Nodding, Meg showed it off with pride.
“With us working nights and that swell of yours taking up most of yours, I’m just glad we could make it today.” Rosie led the way. A Scott Joplin tune was being played on the piano. “Fancy presents are nice, but you shouldn’t put all your eggs in one basket.”
“I missed you too.” Meg smiled, throwing Rosie a kiss.
Rosie shook her head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you if old Alec should ever tire of you and your heart gets broken.” She’d made no secret of the fact she thought monogamy a fool’s game, true love a fantasy. She resented Alec for taking Meg away from her friends, talking her into quitting her job to be totally dependent on him.
“My heart is just fine, last time I checked and my eggs too.”
“Good, good, that’s good,” said Rosie fluffing her hair. Her hips were swinging as she walked, powdering her nose, her jeweled compact in hand. “Damned, if I didn’t fail somewhere trying to make a proper gold digger out of you.”
They sat down and ordered drinks. “Well, I got me a rich fella who takes good care of me and I’m not married with dangling babes so it’s not all for naught,” teased Meg smiling as she winked at Hannah. “And, you’ve still got Hannah as a protégé.”
Complaining to Meg, no real malice in her voice Rosie tittered. “Yeah, but all she thinks about is singing the blues.”
“That reminds me, I wonder who is singing here later tonight,” asked Hannah. Her eyes were rooted to the closed, draped stage, her head filled with what if’s. She’d seen one late night show here and had loved it. She could see herself performing on the small stage at the back of the room. A small, well-appointed room with lots of tables dressed with double linen tablecloths, an elaborate and ornate brass and wood bar, silk-papered wood trimmed walls and real flowers on the tables.
“Most of the day patrons are well heeled businessmen or politicians,” whispered Meg giggling at the look on Rosie’s face as she surveyed the mostly male population of the hotel.
“I’d say.” Rosie licked her lips. “And, there’s an absolutely, gorgeous sheik looking right this way.”
“At Hannah,” observed Meg proudly. “Everyone notices her first.”
“That’s not true,” argued Hannah.
“Yes, they do,” agreed Rosie grumbling. Several minutes later the man gave up looking and moved away. “Darn. Didn’t even look my way and there he goes. Probably off to stalk another blonde. Maybe I should dye my hair? Fellas like blondes.”
“Oh applesau
ce,” protested both Meg and Hannah admiring Rosie’s rich, red hair.
Hannah spoke up first. “Fellas admire you all the time. You have such a way.”
“It’s called E-A-S-Y, hon,” sniped Meg. They all cackled.
The waiter came to the table holding a bottle of wine. He whispered to Hannah. “The gentleman by the piano is sending this to your table with his regards, for you and your friends to enjoy. May I open it for you?”
Hannah smiled in surprise. “Oh, no, sir. I couldn’t accept it. But, please thank him.”
The waiter bowed, nodded and moved away.
Rosie sputtered. “Did you just refuse a perfectly kind offer of a free bottle of vino? What are we going to do with her, Meggie? I think I’m failing here. I had to twist Hannah’s arm to accept a dinner date then she went and decked the fella. Gave the poor sot a shiner big as Texas.”
Meg looked at Hannah, her eyes were understanding.
“She could have had the heir to Flanagan’s Sewage eating right out of her hands. I mean he is a bit of a prig and dull, but hey, he makes big bucks. Big!”
“I don’t want Walter eating out of my hands. It was a mistake me going out with him.”
“But, he’s loaded,” continued Rosie.
Hannah rolled her eyes, spooning her soup. “I just want to earn my own way and get a job singing. Preferably before I go broke.”
Finishing her soup, Rosie placed a cigarette in the holder she kept pinned to her dress. She lit it. “Well, I say until you’ve got a job that pays big buckaroonies, keep old Walter on the string as insurance you don’t starve.”
Meg glanced over at Hannah, her spoon in the air. “I told you I’d lend you money.”
“I still have savings and working at the Fountain helps.”
Brow raised, Meg looked skeptical.
“You’ve both done enough. I have money put aside for essentials. I’m fine,” insisted Hannah, her blue-eyed gaze firm on Rosie whom she silently willed to keep quiet. Meg had already been far too generous and she didn’t want her to worry.
“Well, if you’re sure? I know how bad an influence Rosie can be.”
“Everything is copacetic,” Hannah said. “Something good will happen soon. I can feel it. I reminded my manager at the Fountain just yesterday that he promised me a chance to audition. He was so nice. He swore he hadn’t forgotten me. Said he had his eye on me.”
“Let’s hope that’s all he has on you,” shot Rosie sarcastically, eyeing Meg meaningfully. “I hear he’s a real operator, if you catch my drift.”
Meg nodded, looking at Hannah as she reached for her purse. “You just have to be careful, Han. I warned you about the way people try to take advantage here.”
“I know and I am careful, but I think he’s sincere. He compliments me a lot.”
“Uh, huh,” said Rosie. “Next, he’ll want to show you his etchings or have you come into the backroom for a private audition.”
“Oh, Rosie,” said Hannah, shaking her head. “Good Lord. He’s old enough to be my grandfather. Whoever told you he’d do that was spewing sour grapes. They do have a high turnover rate. I guess some girls don’t like to wait.”
Rosie glanced at Meg.
Meg looked at Hannah. “Look, Sweetie, it might be a lot of hooey and he might be on the up and up. Be prepared for anything. Okay? Things like that do happen.”
Hannah shook her head in disbelief. “Bee’s Knees. Do you think I’m that naïve? Don’t forget that while the Fountain ain’t, I mean isn’t The Jefferson Hotel, it is a respectable nightclub. And, I’ve been there two weeks. Don’t you think if that kind of monkey business was going on, I’d have heard something?”
“Maybe…maybe not,” said Rosie.” A girl ain’t likely to brag about that.”
“No, but he might be the real McCoy,” said Meg interrupting as she put her money on the table. “And, maybe we’re just a couple of jades?”
Rosie shrugged brows raised. “Maybe.”
“Rosie, he’s just a nice old man. Really.” Hannah took her own money out. “You can’t always think the worst of folks.”
“Okay. So the manager of the Fountain is a nice old guy just like Santa Claus, right?”
“Right, but without the beard and the belly,” said Hannah, grinning.
“Well, good old Santa Claus pinched my ass by the Salvation Army bucket last year,” said Rosie looking indignant hand on hip as she stood. “And, if that wasn’t insult enough, I’d given the dirty old codger a fiver too.”
“Oh my,” exclaimed Hannah, giggling.
Meg just laughed. “Oh, Rosie, you’re incorrigible.”
“I can’t believe it! I feel so stupid,” said Hannah wringing her hands as tears of frustration ran down her face. “Audition, my Lord. I jumped right into his trap like a fly in a spider web. The nerve of him! I thought he was such a nice, old man.”
Knowing instantly what must have happened, Rosie bit hard on her tongue. Saying I told you so wouldn’t help and laughing would be downright insensitive. She made Hannah sit down and handed her a handkerchief instead. “Here, here, tell me what happened.”
Hannah closed her eyes as if pained. “He told me to come into his office to talk about my audition after my shift was over. I was so excited. Finally! He said to be discreet. Didn’t want the other girls to get wind of it and accuse him of favoritism.”
“Sounds reasonable enough,” said Rosie nodding.
“So while the place is closing and their cleanin’ up, I go. Practically skipping with glee.” She winced. “I feel so stupid now. Well, first we talk. He was so nice, so sincere. He asked me questions about my family, where I live, where I came from, do I like working there, how much do I want to work in show business, stuff like that.”
“Yeah?”
“He starts telling me how tough it is, the biz, entertainment and how pretty I am. He says being pretty and talented isn’t enough.”
“The son-of-a-bitch,” roared Rosie.
“Said if I scratch his back, he’d scratch mine. I didn’t know what he meant.”
Rosie popped a piece of gum in her mouth. “I gather it wasn’t just his back he wanted scratched?”
Hannah sniffed, shaking her head. “Then he asked me to sing.”
“Just like that? No music? No nothing?”
“Yeah, I should’ve known, huh? But, he said he had a good ear for a voice whether there was music or not, so I just ignored my better instincts and sang. There I was was singin’ my poor fool heart out when he gets up from his chair and comes over to where I’m standing. He came real close. He was so close his breath was ticklin’ my face. I closed my eyes.”
“Why’d you do that?”
“To concentrate and that’s when he…he…”
“Damn, like a lamb to the slaughter,” exclaimed Rosie. “What happened next?”
“He took my hand and put it right on his trousers. Right on his…well, it was hard as a pipe and even though my eyes were closed I knew immediately what it was.”
“Of course you did,” snorted Rosie.
“And, I screamed.”
Rosie laughed. “You screamed? That must’ve dampened his ardor?”
Hannah shook her head, holding the handkerchief to her face. “No, it just made matters worse. He backed me against the wall, pushing his…you know against me and asking me to toot his flute, so I...”
Rosie moaned. “Oh no, Hannah. You didn’t go and deck the guy like you did poor Walter?”
“No, of course not.” She paused. “But I pinched him on his you-know-what until he yelped. I ran out of there—quit!”
“You quit?” Rosie tried not to grin.
Hannah’s chin was obstinate. “I couldn’t stay there after that. I’ll just have to find something else.” She picked up a magazine from the table featuring stage star Billy Burke. “I don’t think she ever had to contend with such crude requests just to get a job.”
Rosie snorted and lit a cigarette, puffing furiou
sly. “Don’t kid yourself. It’s a man’s world and they hold the keys. But, not all of them, sweetie. Not all of them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean a girl’s gotta use what she’s got, especially when she’s on her own and sometimes that’s sex. And, you can’t be naïve, faint of heart, or even too virtuous if you want to do more than just survive, Han. I worry about you. You picked the wrong line of work if you act like a ruffled virgin every time some joker tries to get you in the sack. Don’t think for a minute actresses, singers, even female store clerks and factory workers don’t have to put out for someone, sometime. Not that I’m saying that you should have or even should have to, but if it comes down to getting what you want and having to do the deed to get it, you may as well go back to the farm if you can’t. I just hope for your sake, you’ve got the guts to do what has got to be done when the time comes to make that choice.
“So do I,” admitted Hannah ruefully. “So, do I.”
3 CHAPTER THREE
No job, no prospects and no money. Had she acted too hasty quitting her job at the Fountain five months ago? Time would tell, but time was running out. She didn’t know what she’d do. She wouldn’t borrow another dime and didn’t know where she’d get the money for next month’s rent or her next meal.
The newspapers and magazines spread out on the table in front of her spouted all kinds of articles about their generation’s shocking antics. Young women were breaking the rules; leaving home, doing things in 1919 men had only dared to do before. On the one hand, city living was a hoot, but on the other hand, it was downright scary.
The Songbird with Sapphire Eyes Page 4
