My parents are dead. She said it with such quiet strength that for a moment the woman didn't speak. And then slowly she stood up, still staring at her. She had never seen a girl who looked quite like her, the pale hair, the long legs, the delicately carved face. She looks like a movie star, she had said to her friend in Sicilian.
I'll show you the room. You see if you gonna like it.
Thank you. Crystal looked quiet and self-possessed as she picked up her suitcase.
It was a tiny airless room. There were four of them on one floor in what had once been the woman's home. Now there was a total of six rooms that the old woman was renting, and all of them shared a single bathroom. The woman herself had the only room with its own bath. It was on the main floor, next to the kitchen, which, for another five dollars a month, the tenants were allowed to use. The room itself was forty-five dollars a month, and it was bare and looked out on the building behind it. But to Crystal, it was worth it. She didn't know where else to go. And it was clean enough. There was a heavy lock on the door, and she sensed that she would be safe here, with the old woman watching the comings and goings of her boarders.
You pay me one month in advance, cash. And you wanna move out, you give me two weeks notice. Not that they ever did. They came and they went, but she kept the place clean, and she only tolerated decent people. No drunks, no prostitutes, no men who dragged women in. She only wanted clean, quiet types, like Crystal. There were two elderly men, and a young girl living off the third floor, and on the same floor as Crystal's room there were three girls, and a young man who sold insurance. You don't get a job, you can't keep the room, unless you got enough money without one.
I'll find work as soon as I can. Crystal looked her squarely in the eye. She peeled four tens and five singles out of her billfold. It was the money she had earned working at the diner, and she was grateful she had saved it. The other girls her age spent it on nylons and movies and sodas, but Crystal had saved almost every penny she earned, and had hidden it from her mother. Are there any restaurants near here looking for help?
The old woman laughed. There were plenty of them, but she knew none of them would hire Crystal. You speak Italian?
Crystal shook her head with a smile. No, I don't.
Then you gotta look somewhere else. They don't hire girls like you around here. She was too pretty and too young, and they only hired Italian men to be waiters in the restaurants in North Beach. Maybe downtown. But when Crystal began looking the next afternoon, none of the places she tried wanted to hire her, even though she told them that she'd had experience in a diner. They just laughed, and most of them wouldn't even let her leave the number of the pay phone at Mrs. Castagna's. She was discouraged as she bought a sandwich and took it back to her room, and Mrs. Castagna was sitting on the steps as usual, watching her tenants come and go, and chattering with the people she knew on the street, in her own dialect.
You find a job? She eyed Crystal as she walked slowly up the stairs. Her feet hurt in her uncomfortable shoes, and the blue dress looked as wilted as she did. And she shivered in the chill air as the fog rolled in. It was May, but it was a lot colder than it had been in the valley, and she wasn't used to it yet. She lit the little gas stove in her room with a nickel. Mrs. Castagna saw to it that her tenants got nothing for free. She wasn't going to support anyone. She had raised ten children in that house, and they were grown and gone now. She was making good use of their rooms, and the house brought her a decent income. Unlike Crystal, who counted her dwindling funds with nervous fingers as she sat in the room's only chair, and looked at the crucifix over the bed. The only other decoration was a colored drawing of the Virgin Mary, painted by one of Mrs. Castagna's daughters, who, Crystal later learned, was in a convent. The others were married and had kids, and visited home frequently on Sundays.
Crystal pounded the streets for two weeks, and was beginning to panic at not having found a job yet. She had started to wonder if she ever would, as she walked home late one night. She had tried to find a job in Chinatown, as a cashier, or even a dishwasher, but they only laughed at her, as they had two days before in North Beach. She was always the wrong color, the wrong sex, and spoke the wrong language. But that night, she walked home through the famous Barbary Coast. There were nightclubs and restaurants, and couples walking down the street arm in arm, laughing and talking. Unlike North Beach, it seemed bright and alive, and a great deal flashier. She was wearing a blue skirt and a white blouse, and the white pumps she'd had for years, and a sweater she had borrowed from Mrs. Castagna. It was black, like everything else she owned, and ten sizes too big, but the old woman felt sorry for her, shivering in the cold at night. The only other thing she had that was warm was an old sheepskin jacket she used to wear riding in the early mornings with her father. Her wardrobe was a far cry from what she saw women wearing in stylish San Francisco. But she didn't care anymore. All she wanted was a job, doing anything, scrubbing floors if she had to. It was a far cry from her dreams of Hollywood, but she had to eat and pay Mrs. Castagna. She had to earn a living somehow. She had decided to try the hotels the following week but thought she'd give the restaurants one last try, as she stood outside an elaborate facade with a sign that said simply HARRY'S. Everything was garish here, and there was a smaller sign that promised a floor show.
Crystal wandered hesitantly inside, oblivious to the stares of the couples who were leaving. They were well dressed and a number of the women wore low-cut dresses. She stood for a long time watching a man on the stage with two musicians accompanying him as he sang Cole Porter's Too Darn Hot. And then the headwaiter hurried over to her, and asked her brusquely what she wanted.
You can't come in here unless you're joining a party. They didn't want hookers at Harry's, or rubberneckers who stood in the doorway catching the show for nothing, but it was obvious, even to him, that Crystal was no hooker. In her outsized sweater and worn-out clothes, she looked more like an orphan. What do you want?
She looked him straight in the eye, and tried to pretend her knees weren't shaking. A job. I'll do anything. Wash dishes, wait on tables, anything ' I need a job very badly. He started to say something to her, and then looked at her more closely. She was so pretty it made your heart ache just to look at her, and her eyes seemed to reach out and touch you. He had been about to turn her away, and then suddenly he wondered if Harry would like her. He glanced at his watch and wondered if the boss would still be upstairs, but it was too late, and he knew that he wasn't.
You ever work in a restaurant before? He straightened his bow tie and kept an eye on the tables, but his eyes kept coming back to her. She had a face that made you want to stop and stare at her for a lifetime. But she seemed totally unaware of the effect she had had on him. There was an openness about her and a certain gutsiness, despite her obvious nervousness, and he instantly liked her. Ever been a waitress?
Yes. For fear that he'd turn her away, she didn't tell him it had been in a diner.
And then he looked at her more closely. How old are you?
Eighteen. She told the lie as though she wouldn't know how to tell one.
He started to shake his head at her, glancing at the door through which she had entered. You gotta be twenty-one to work here. It's the law.
Then I'm twenty-one ' please ' Her voice was gentle and her incredible blue eyes smiled as part of him melted. Please ' no one will ever know.
Christ, he almost groaned, the boss will kill me. But she sensed that he was relenting.
I'll work hard. I swear I will. Just try me for a few days ' a week ' anything ' Her eyes reached out to him and he knew he couldn't turn her down. She was just too pretty, so vulnerable and so young, and something told him she needed the job and would work hard. What the hell, he could tell Harry he didn't know. And they could can her if she was no good. He glanced back at her, and saw her watching him with earnest concentration.
All right, all right. Come back tomorrow afternoon. One of the girls will give you a un
iform. And put some makeup on. You look like a kid like that. And for chris-sake, he growled, get rid of that sweater.
Yes, sir. She grinned, looking like a kid again and she smiled up at him as he stared at her. He had never seen anyone as beautiful as this girl ' and she was eighteen ' He just prayed Harry wouldn't find out, or he'd kill him.
Be here at four o'clock. Sharp.
Yes, sir. Thank you. Her voice was husky as she thanked him. It was a wonder no one else had snapped her up. With those looks they could have made her a dancer, or even a stripper. But she was too innocent for that. There was a lot more to Crystal Wyatt than he thought, as she hurried out the door before he could change his mind, and almost ran all the way back to Mrs. Castagna's.
The first thing she did was return Mrs. Castagna's sweater with her thanks, telling her that she was now working. She said it with pride and confidence, as though she'd been made president of General Motors.
You got a decent job? Mrs. Castagna eyed her suspiciously. The girl was too pretty for her own good. Already the man who sold insurance was hanging out in the halls, hoping to run into Crystal on the way to the bathroom. But Crystal seemed not to notice him. She was quiet and she handled herself well. She didn't run around flirting with men or acting cheap. She was decent and polite. She stayed in her room and never even used the kitchen. And for reasons Mrs. Castagna couldn't yet explain, she liked her.
I'm working in a restaurant, Crystal told her proudly, and the old woman smiled at her. She was a sweet girl and she reminded her of one of her granddaughters.
Doing what?
Waiting on tables.
Good. The old woman pretended to growl at her, but it was no secret that she liked her. She was a good girl, and she hadn't given her any trouble. Make sure they pay you. The rent is due in ten days. And it's too late this month to give me notice. She put the fear of God into all of them. It kept them in line. But it only made Crystal smile. She could see through her, and she liked her too.
I know, Mrs. Castagna. But I'm not moving out.
That's good, that's good. She waved and went back to her kitchen as Crystal left.
The next afternoon she walked the dozen blocks to Harry's on the Barbary Coast, excited and thinking about work, wondering if it would be very different from the diner.
She appeared at exactly four o'clock, with her hair pulled back tightly in a tidy knot, and wearing the lipstick she had bought that morning in Woolworth's. It was red and a lot too bright for her creamy face, but when she'd looked in the mirror, she had decided she looked a lot older.
The maitre d' who'd hired her the night before introduced himself as Charlie and put her in the care of an older but very attractive waitress named Pearl. She laughed and said that it was really Phyllis, but no one had called her that since she was a kid. She said she'd worked there for years, and she had been a dancer long before that. She helped Harry out now and, then by hoofing for him when one of the performers didn't show up, or singing if they wanted her to. She had known Harry for years, and she didn't tell Crystal that long ago, she had been his mistress. She looked Crystal over carefully, found her a clean uniform, and showed her around the kitchen.
Things get pretty busy round about eight. But it slacks off a little by ten, and then they come in again for the last show at midnight. It was as much a restaurant as a nightclub, Crystal realized fully now, and she was excited as she looked around her. She hoped that they would keep her. Pearl invited her to dine with them, and the rest of the help, before they opened. And as she listened to the comfortable chatter around her she knew that she loved it. There were waiters and waitresses, and busboys, and cooks and dishwashers in the kitchen. It was a bigger place than she'd realized, and she decided it was just as well she hadn't known or she would never have dared to go in and ask for work. And then, with a smile, she realized she didn't even know how much they would pay her. Pearl told her she could keep her tips, and if anyone got drunk and gave her a rough time, all she had to do was tell Charlie, the maitre d', or one of the bartenders.
It's a nice place to work, Pearl explained, they don't make us take much shit here. Harry's a great guy. The warmth of memory touched her eyes as Crystal watched her. And then, much to Crystal's horror, You a virgin? Crystal stared at her in silence and suddenly Pearl laughed. No, not like that, hell, who is? although Crystal looked as though she might have been. I meant you ever worked in a place like this before?
Crystal laughed, relieved at having the question explained. She lowered her voice and explained conspiratorially, Actually, I worked in a diner back home.
Pearl grinned and patted one of Crystal's slender hands. Then you got a lot to learn, sweetheart. Stay close to me and I'll teach you. Crystal thanked her lucky stars for Pearl, particularly later when they got busy. It was hard waiting on tables, with Charlie keeping an eye on her, and people expecting her to remember what they wanted, but she fought to keep it all straight and when she served her last dinner, she knew she'd done well and Pearl confirmed it. And she had made twenty-one dollars in tips. It was almost exactly half a month's rent. She wanted to run home and tell Mrs. Castagna.
You want a ride? Pearl had an old car, and they left together that night, as Crystal accepted gratefully. Her feet were killing her as she thought of buying new shoes before the next evening.
Thanks for the ride. She smiled winningly at her new friend as they pulled up in front of Mrs. Castagna's on Green Street.
Any time. This where you live? Pearl looked up at the house curiously. You live with your folks?
No, Crystal shook her head quietly, I rent a room here.
Pearl nodded, thinking that eventually she could do better. She was the kind of girl men would tip heavily, just for the pleasure of talking to her, and hoping to win her favor.
Good night, she called, and waved, as she opened the door with her key, and Pearl drove away in the old Chevy. And for the first time in weeks, Crystal slept peacefully that night, she was exhausted. But she was working, and she had made an absolute fortune. And as she drifted off to sleep, she decided she loved San Francisco. It was a long way from home, but that was exactly what she wanted.
Crystal met Harry two weeks after she'd started working in his restaurant. The job was hard, but the pay was fair, and the tips she got every night were terrific. The people who worked there were friendly to her, and many of them, sensing how young she was, took her under their wing and treated her almost like a daughter. For the first time since her father's death, people were kind to her, and she felt welcome. And suddenly, she seemed to blossom. There was no one shouting at her, no one resenting her for who and what she was. She hummed to herself all the time, and the minute she got to work, she looked happy. Harry had heard a lot about her, and he was curious about the girl everyone said was a knockout. He was sure they were exaggerating, but the moment he laid eyes on her, he knew they weren't. He was watching her from across the room, and later Crystal saw him conferring with Pearl but she didn't have time to wonder what they were saying. A little while later, Pearl signaled her, and Crystal felt suddenly nervous as she approached them. She wondered if he knew she was not yet eighteen, and if she was going to get fired, as she approached the table where they were talking.
This is Harry, Crystal. The Boss. She shook his hand, feeling scared, but her smile showed none of her fears as Harry stared at her in fascination. She was even prettier than they'd said. She was stunning.
Hello, Harry. Her voice was deep and gentle as he watched her. Looking at her was like finding diamonds in your bathtub.
I hear you've been doing a good job. He'd heard a lot more than that but he didn't tell her. You like it here?
Yes. A lot. She smiled shyly at Pearl, who looked back at her proudly. She'd taken an interest in her, and at times it was almost like having a daughter.
Pearl tells me you can sing a little bit. He was understating the case, but he wanted to move on her with caution. Ever think about singing on a stage
? Crystal shook her head with a look of amusement. You might like it. Crystal seemed to hesitate as he glanced at Pearl. Pearl could teach you a thing or two, and with a face like yours, we could put you on the stage one night and see how you like it. He was trying to sound casual so as not to scare her off, but he already had a plan in mind, and he'd been talking to Pearl about it for the last half hour. With her looks it was crazy just having her run in and out of the kitchen with dinners.
Want to give it a try? He looked encouraging and for a minute, Crystal felt a rush of excitement. She loved to sing, and the idea of doing it for an audience in a restaurant made her tingle. She wanted to hug him for giving her the chance, but she tried to look cool as she nodded.
I'd like that. And then she laughed her soft, husky laugh. What if they throw rotten eggs?
Then we take you off quick. He grinned. He was a nice man, and Crystal liked him. You wanna see if Pearl here can teach you a few things? She sings pretty good and she's a damn fine dancer, was anyway, before she hurt her ankle. He had met her years before, when she was working at the Fox Theater, and they'd been lovers for years, although they weren't any longer. He had only given her the job years later, when she couldn't dance anymore, and all she could do was wait on tables, but he still had a soft spot for her. It showed in the way he looked at her and talked about her dancing. Let Pearl show you a thing or two, okay, kid?
Okay. She said the word breathlessly, smiling at Pearl, as he walked away. She wondered what would happen if she couldn't do it. She waited until he was out of earshot and then looked at Pearl. Think I can do it? She wanted to very badly as Pearl nodded thoughtfully, wondering for a moment if Harry might fall for Crystal. She was so beautiful but she hadn't done anything to encourage him. She didn't have to.
Don't worry. You'll do fine. And when they hear that voice of yours, they're gonna go crazy. I'll teach you a few tricks and a few dance steps. They're gonna love you. Come in tomorrow at two, and we'll fool around for a while with the piano. She looked at the girl, envying her her youth, and yet she liked her too much to resent her.
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