by Amber Brock
The elevator doors opened onto a hallway with wide double doors at the end. A golden plaque announced that the girls had arrived at the presidential suite. Inside, the suite was decorated with the same light colors and glittering accents as the lobby. The windows on the far side of the room looked out over the ocean, and the tips of palm fronds waved just outside.
“I suppose our bags are in our rooms,” Kitty said. “Let’s change out of these traveling clothes and explore, what do you say?”
“Sure. I’m going to get a bath first. I’m sweating like a hog,” Hen said, shaking her jacket in an attempt to air out.
Kitty fluffed her hair and batted her lashes. “Ladies don’t sweat, they glow.”
“Then I’m glowing like a hog.”
Kitty laughed and headed to the door on the left side of the living room, more out of habit than anything. She opened the door to find she’d guessed wrong; Hen’s bags were waiting instead. Kitty hadn’t thought that she’d get her father’s room, but since he wasn’t there, it was the most logical. “You’re in here,” she told Hen.
She changed into a pair of high-waisted shorts from the previous summer, glad she’d saved them. Once Hen was bathed and changed, the girls decided to head out to the pool. Unfortunately, all Hen had to wear were long-sleeved dresses and blouses. Kitty helped Hen roll and pin the sleeves on her shirt, wishing she had a second pair of shorts to offer her. We’ve got to go out shopping as soon as possible, she thought.
The patio was already crowded with people when they walked out. Children splashed in the kidney-shaped pool, teen girls lounged on blue-striped chairs, and couples drank from glasses with tiny paper umbrellas at the outdoor bar. A young man passed Kitty and Hen, taking a moment to gaze appreciatively at Kitty’s exposed legs. She smiled and lifted her sunglasses.
“Hello there.” She nudged Hen. “I think Miami suits me.”
Hen had her eye on a tanned, shirtless man preparing to dive into the deep end of the pool. “I think it suits anyone with a pulse and eyes,” she said.
The girls stretched out on deck chairs and traded assessments of the handsome guys on offer at the pool. Kitty considered that even if she couldn’t work Sebastian into her plan with Hen, there were many other boys of all types. Temptation lay all around, and Charles was miles away. As Kitty soaked up the warm sunshine, she thought she might even have time for a little romance herself before all was said and done. She didn’t care a thing about love, but romance? Romance she liked.
Kitty made short work of getting Hen to a store for more heat-appropriate clothing. On the recommendation of the front desk clerk, they took a cab to Burdine’s Department Store the morning after they arrived. At the sight of the store’s bubblegum-pink walls and bright blue ceiling streaked with fake clouds, Kitty wished she’d been more specific about their fashion needs. But she quickly realized the dresses and rompers on sale were nowhere near as tacky as the décor.
Though the items they purchased at Burdine’s were charming and summery, they were hardly the kind of haute couture Hen’s mother would expect from the trip. The next morning, Kitty called around to make appointments at several designers, including Alix of Miami. The large showrooms with live models and champagne for Kitty and Hen were more along the lines of what Kitty had expected. Hen bought some evening wear, and Kitty pointed her to a few pieces for her trousseau that would satisfy Mrs. Bancroft. At another designer, Kitty treated herself to a strapless two-piece bathing suit, yet another pair of shorts, and several daring tops.
As they waited for the band’s return, they shopped in the mornings and spent the afternoons at the pool. They met Andre for dinner in the hotel restaurant both evenings, mostly as a convenience to him. He had a hard time pulling away from work long enough to take them out but promised to show them more of the town on his first day off. The girls discussed going to some of the clubs Andre told them about, but decided to wait until they had a man to go with them. Kitty was not going to show up at a club without at least one date between the two of them; it would reek of desperation. For the first time, she was sorry they didn’t have Charles. If nothing else, he was a reliable escort.
Andre’s excitement as he met them for dinner each night gave her cause for concern. A hug for each of them when they walked in the first night turned into a kiss on each girl’s cheek the next. She knew it wasn’t a sign of the budding friendship among the three of them. It must have been an effort to get a little physical contact with Kitty. Though she wanted to convince her father that their relationship was progressing, she couldn’t have Andre do something foolish like propose to her. At the rate they were going, a couple of weeks might be enough to convince him he should. She’d have to continue to flirt, but make sure he’d want nothing to do with her in the end. And, as with her father, Andre would have to believe that his decision was entirely his idea. The tricky part was how to achieve that, which kept Kitty’s mind whirring.
Andre had told Kitty and Hen that the band should arrive around eleven o’clock on Friday morning so the girls had gone down to wait a few minutes before. At last, the band pulled up in a weather-beaten bus to the hotel’s entrance. The members staggered off, more bags under their eyes than in their hands, and headed to the back parking lot to pick up their cars. Sebastian and Max were among the last off, with Sebastian cradling Loco in his arms. Kitty rushed out the door as soon as she saw them.
“My sweetheart,” she cried, reaching for the dog.
Sebastian grinned. He was the only one who walked off the bus looking fresh enough to star in a commercial. “Now I’m your sweetheart, eh?”
“Don’t tease me,” Kitty said. Sebastian handed the wriggling dog to her. “Thank you for taking such good care of her.”
Max leaned in. “How do you like Miami so far?”
“It’s swell,” Hen said. “But we haven’t seen much. We’ve gone shopping and had dinner here. Oh, and we love the pool.”
“That’s not Miami.” Max shook his head. “Sebastian, we’ve got to take them out. Can you call Marcela?”
Marcela? Kitty thought. Andre hadn’t mentioned any club owned by a woman, and he knew all the owners. “What’s the name of Marcela’s place?” she asked.
“No name,” Sebastian said. “It’s a friend of ours. She has a little house party most nights.”
“I think Andre’s planning to take us out tonight. We’d really hoped to go to the Park Avenue Restaurant,” Kitty said quickly. Wherever these musicians were going, and whoever Marcela was, Kitty doubted the outing would be to her usual standards.
“Andre’s working tonight,” Hen said. She either didn’t notice or was ignoring the daggers Kitty was staring at her.
“I’m sure you two don’t want to go out tonight, after such a long trip,” Kitty said.
“It will be our only chance to have the whole evening and see our friends for a few days,” Sebastian said. “We start playing at the club again tomorrow.”
“We’ll sleep all afternoon anyway,” Max added. “But don’t let us force you if you’ve got better things to do.”
Kitty considered for a moment. She didn’t want to go to some other-side-of-the-tracks dive, but she did need for Hen to spend time with Sebastian early and often if her ruse was going to be convincing. “Where does she live?” she asked at last.
“She has a little place just over the Causeway in Riverside—that’s where Sebastian and I live,” Max said. “Like Sebastian said, it’s really more of a house party than a club, but it’s the real Latin scene.”
“The best live music in Miami,” Sebastian added. “Except for when we play, of course.”
Again, Kitty hesitated. “I can’t say I know what to wear to a house party.”
Max shot her a knowing look. “I’m surprised to hear there’s any occasion you can’t dress for.”
“No need for anything special
,” Sebastian said. “Very casual.”
“It sounds like fun to me,” Hen said. “Come on, Kitty. What do you say?”
“Sounds swell,” Kitty said, fighting mental images of a dilapidated shack. One night wouldn’t kill her. “What time should we be ready?”
“We’ll pick you up at nine,” Max said.
“Meet you out front,” Hen said, shooting Kitty a pointed look. Once Max and Sebastian were out of earshot, she crossed her arms on her chest. “What was all that about?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. Why are you so eager all of a sudden?”
“You know I’m excited about the Park Avenue, but we can go there with Andre,” Hen said. “Don’t you think it’s nice of the boys to invite us to meet their friends? You could have been a little more gracious about it.”
“You’re the gracious one, not me. Besides, wouldn’t you rather go somewhere a little more…to our taste?” Kitty asked.
“I’m curious about the rest of Miami.”
“You’re curious about Sebastian.”
Hen blushed, but a giggle escaped. “So what? He’s handsome, is that so bad?”
“No, though I’m starting to think you’re drawn to a scandalous type of man. Lumberjacks? Now ‘good as colored’ musicians? What would Charles’s parents think?” Kitty teased.
“That doesn’t matter as much here, does it? They’re for sure never going to see me going to Marcela’s,” Hen said.
The girls headed up to their suite to plan their outfits for the evening. Once back upstairs, Kitty set Loco down, so the dog could begin her thorough inspection of the rooms. Hen looked at her reflection in the hall mirror and fluffed her hair.
“I wasn’t going to wash my hair today, but I suppose I will if we’re going out,” Hen said. She pursed her lips. “Though maybe I should catch just a tiny nap first. Who knows how long this thing might last tonight? I want to be fresh.”
“I think I’ll go out to the pool,” Kitty said. “Just for an hour or two.”
“Wake me up when you get back in, will you?” Hen asked. She patted Loco on the head, then went off to her room and closed the door.
Kitty changed into her new bathing suit, taking a moment to admire it in the bathroom mirror. She collected her Vogue and sunglasses and was just about to walk out the door when the phone rang. Hoping it would be her father, she picked up.
It was a man on the other end of the line, but not her father. “Kitty? Is that you?”
“Charles? How are you?” She kept her voice low, worried Hen might hear.
“All’s swell here, though probably colder than where you are.”
She rolled her eyes. No, we’re building snowmen in Miami. “I’m sure that’s true.”
“You girls enjoying yourselves?”
Inspiration lit up her mind. “Never a dull moment. Do you miss us?”
“Of course. But I’m staying occupied.”
“I’m sure you are.” Probably with every hussy in Manhattan, she thought.
“Is Hen around?”
Kitty paused for dramatic effect. “I know she wouldn’t want to miss a call from you, but she’s sleeping, and I hate to wake her. I just got up myself. We had a bit of a late night,” she lied.
“She’s still asleep? But it’s…hmm. Will you ask her to call me later? Though I am going to the club this evening. Maybe before she goes to bed?”
“That depends on how long you plan to stay up. Our sweet Hen has really taken to the Miami nightlife.”
Now it was Charles’s turn to laugh. “You don’t say.”
“You’d be mighty surprised if you saw her. But, goodness, I don’t want to get her in trouble. We’ll just say she’s having a very nice time and leave it at that.”
“Trouble? What exactly is she getting up to?” He sounded more hesitant.
“Me and my mouth,” Kitty said. “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’m keeping an eye on her. It’s all in good fun, nothing at all to worry about.”
“I see.” His voice was full of false cheer. “Well, have a good time tonight. And will you please ask her to call me tomorrow?”
“I will, but don’t go waiting by the phone too early,” Kitty said brightly. She hung up the phone with a smile. Charles was suspicious now, all right. She’d give the ideas she’d planted a few days to marinate, and then it would be time to escalate.
* * *
When Kitty and Hen walked out the front door of the Imperium, they found Max and Sebastian waiting for them on the sidewalk of the roundabout. Max looked at his watch.
“Right on time,” he said. “I would’ve thought you’d make us wait.”
“And I didn’t think a couple of musicians would be so punctual,” Kitty said.
“Look at us. Full of surprises.” Max glanced at Hen, then back to Kitty. “You two look great.”
“Thanks,” Hen said. “Kitty must have put on a thousand different—”
“Oh, they’re not interested in the process,” Kitty said. “Just the result. Is this your car?”
“It’s my car,” Sebastian said, his whole face glowing. He opened the door so Kitty could climb in.
The car was a beauty. It had to be ten years old, maybe more, but the ruby paint shined like it was still fresh and wet. Whatever trivial sum Sebastian made singing at the club must have been poured directly into the purchase and upkeep of the Ford convertible he now stood beside proudly.
“I think Hen should have the honor of sitting up front. I’ll ride in the back.” Kitty didn’t say that she knew her much-shorter hair could stand the breeze in the back better than Hen’s. Neither of them had brought a scarf, and Kitty had spent too long pinning Hen’s curls for her work to come flying apart when Sebastian hit the gas.
Max opened the back door, and Kitty slid in onto the gray cloth seat. He ran around the back and climbed in beside her. Once Hen and Sebastian were in, they were off. Max and Sebastian related tales from the bus trip, and Hen was especially amused by the story of a clarinetist who nearly got left in a small Tennessee town when he took too long in the restroom. Kitty half listened, reacting at the appropriate moments, but her attention was mostly on the view. The farther they got away from the hotel, the more the buildings started to change. She watched, a quiver in her stomach, as the neat square restaurants and shops of South Beach became less orderly. The stucco gave way to wood.
Kitty broke into the conversation. “You say this is near where you live?”
Max turned to her. “Sebastian and I share a place on this side of the bridge. Why?”
“Making sure we know our way,” Kitty said, hoping she covered the waver in her voice. She hadn’t seen many people who looked like Max since they’d gone over the Causeway.
“Don’t worry,” Sebastian said. “We go to Marcela’s at least once a week. We would not forget the way.”
Max looked at Kitty but said nothing more. She angled her face away so that he couldn’t read her expression. On the street, she saw knots of people, some standing and talking, some walking. There was more variety of skin tone within each group than she’d ever seen in the entirety of her street in Manhattan.
By the time they pulled up to a row of tightly packed two-story buildings, Kitty’s insides burned. The boisterous music coming from their destination wafted out into the street. This plan was already taking more mental fortitude than any she’d ever hatched. But when she saw Hen’s face light up as Sebastian helped her out of the car, Kitty regained her courage. Max helped her out of the car, studying her carefully.
“You all right? You look pale,” he said.
“I’m ready for a drink,” she said with a smile.
“Sure you are. Hope you like rum.”
“No vodka?”
“Not at Marcela’s.” Max tilted his head toward the door
. “C’mon.”
Kitty took a step toward the screen door in front of them, but Max caught her arm. He and Sebastian walked around to the side of the building, guiding the girls around a few broken bottles, then entered through an open door on the side. The row house’s lower floor had been converted into a single large room, and brightly painted columns remained where walls had once stood. In the far corner, a dinged-up refrigerator sat behind a woman at a card table filled with liquor bottles and glasses. The music Kitty had heard drifting into the street now blared from a trio of musicians in the opposite corner, near the window. About a dozen people crowded near them, dancing. No one took advantage of the handful of mismatched chairs against the wall.
Over the music, a voice rang out. “My boys, you are back at last,” the woman at the table called. She rushed over to Max and Sebastian as fast as her tight skirt would allow.
Max hugged her. “Good to see you, Marcela.”
The woman and Sebastian began speaking Spanish, though she did pause to plant a bright red kiss on Max’s cheek. The tips of his ears turned pink, and he rubbed his face with his handkerchief.
“You two sure are favorites,” Kitty said.
Her voice caught Marcela’s attention, and the woman’s hazel eyes widened. “You brought girlfriends!” She rushed forward and took Kitty’s hands. “They never bring girls to me, never. Let me get you a drink. You like rum?”
“Ah…sure.” Kitty forced a smile. A glance at Hen revealed that she was equally overwhelmed. “How much do I owe you?”
“For you, free.” Marcela dropped ice from the refrigerator into two glasses, then filled them halfway with brown liquid.
