by Amber Brock
Kitty peeked out into the living room. Hen had dissolved into giggles at something Sebastian had said. She was leaning on Andre’s arm for support. Recalling their conversation at the salon, Kitty wasn’t about to take Hen away from a good time to have an upsetting conversation with Charles. “You know, it looks like she already went to bed after all.”
“How is she sleeping through that noise? Wake her up.”
“That’s really not necessary, is it?”
“I’ll say what’s necessary and what isn’t.” His nasal New England accent was in full effect. “Wake her up, Kitty.”
She was tempted to ask, Or what? She held her tongue.
“This is getting absurd,” Charles continued. “And to think I called to apologize.”
“There’s nothing to be angry about,” Kitty said. “I’ve been with her the whole time.”
“Except now.” His voice got louder. “Who’s to say what she’s doing right now?”
“Good grief, Charles. She’s sleeping. That’s exactly what she’s doing.”
Hen chose that moment to let out a peal of laughter. The record was between songs, and the conversation had died out for a second. Kitty was sure Charles had heard it. Her guess was confirmed when she heard the click on the other end, followed by the dial tone.
She leaned against the wall. Of all the horrible things she knew Charles to be, Kitty hadn’t ever known him to be such a hothead. The sooner Hen got rid of him, the better. And Kitty knew a golden opportunity when she saw one. That laugh had justified Charles’s suspicions. Once Kitty confirmed them, he and Hen would surely be finished. Kitty could intercept his calls and discourage Hen from calling him until she was truly ready to call it quits. Keeping them from being in contact would have the added bonus of allowing Hen to enjoy her trip without having to defend herself to Charles.
Kitty slipped back into the party, pleased to see Hen dancing. She had barely finished her dance with Max when Sebastian asked her for the next song. Finally, Andre cut in. The two made quite a pair, as neither of them danced in rhythm with the song, nor with each other. At last, breathless, Hen sat on the couch beside Kitty.
“Looks like you’re beating them off with a stick,” Kitty said.
“Oh, they’re just being friendly,” Hen said. She downed the rest of the drink she was holding, and Kitty noticed Hen’s eyes were swimmy.
“How many of those have you had?” Kitty asked.
“One fewer than one too many.” Hen sat up straight, nose in the air, in an attempt to look prim.
“Make sure you stay on the right side of that equation.”
“Listen,” Hen said, her face settling into seriousness. “I’m sorry I gave you a hard time earlier about your father and about you not spending time with Andre. I know you’ll figure it out.”
Her voice was a notch too loud. Andre was standing on the other side of the record player, well out of earshot thanks to the music. Kitty turned to her right. Sure enough, Max was beside the banquette. His stiff posture indicated that he’d heard.
“Thanks,” Kitty said, standing. “I’m going to grab a sandwich. Want anything?”
“Nope.”
Kitty stood by Max, pretending to examine the sandwich offerings. He spoke as quietly as he could.
“That’s the second time that Hen’s mentioned something between you and Andre,” he said. “Want to clue me in? Are you two an item or something?”
“No. Papa thinks Andre and I would make a good match. I disagree.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m guessing Andre does, too. I’ve got to figure out a way to tell Papa that, but that’s the reason he sent me to Miami. I wasn’t going to miss the chance to…” She met Max’s eyes, then focused on the food again. “Well, I didn’t want to miss the trip. So I let him think whatever he wants. But that’s why I’d rather we didn’t tell anyone about our time together.”
He faced her. “You want to hide me.”
“That’s not it at all. I just mean for now. Otherwise, Papa will make me come right home.” She let her hand brush his as she reached for a napkin. “I’m not ready for that yet. Are you?”
Max thought for a moment. He sighed. “Sure. Have it your way.”
“Come on. I have to do it like this. For now.” She extended a hand. “Want to dance?”
He set his plate down. “Sure.”
She slipped off her shoes and they moved into the open space in the middle of the carpet. At first, she worried they’d draw attention. But then, Hen had been dancing the whole time, and no one had cared. To her relief, Hen and Sebastian soon jumped up to dance again. Between Andre, Max, Hen, and Charles, Kitty had plenty to preoccupy her. For that moment, however, she focused on the feel of Max’s arms around her waist.
The next morning, Kitty awoke far earlier than she’d expected to the sound of church bells. No, not church bells. An alarm? Not urgent enough for an alarm sound.
The phone! She leapt out of bed. Even with her cloudy head, she still remembered the need to keep Hen from talking to Charles. When she picked up the receiver, however, it wasn’t Charles on the other end of the line.
“Papa,” she said, with a hard exhale.
“Hello, princess. How are you?”
“I’m so glad to talk to you. I was planning to call you, actually. I feel like we haven’t spoken in months.”
Her father laughed. “I think it’s only been a few days since our last call.”
“A few long days,” she said. “So how’s New York?”
“Cold. I’m jealous of all that warm sunshine Andre tells me you have down there.”
Kitty frowned. Was Andre talking to her father more often than she was? “That’s why you should come down. At least for Christmas. It’s only two weeks away now.”
“Less than that. I’ll see what I can do.”
The firmness in his tone kept her from pushing further. Surely he would make the effort to see her on Christmas, even if it was just for a night or two. Perhaps he planned to surprise her, and that was why he hadn’t confirmed anything.
His voice broke into her thoughts. “And how’s our girl?”
“I don’t think Loco likes the sand too much. She’s strictly a sidewalk sort of gal. New Yorker through and through.”
“Sounds about right.” He paused. “So I have an idea for you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“I’m sending Andre on a little excursion. A scouting trip, I guess you could call it. Got it all arranged this morning.”
Kitty blinked at the clock on the nightstand. Andre was already working this morning? It had nearly been sunrise when he’d left the suite. He really was a pack mule. “Oh?”
“The more I thought about it, the more I thought it might make a nice little getaway for him. Especially since it sounds like it’s been hard for you to spend time with him like you’d hoped.” Her father’s voice took on a slight edge.
“Did he say that? We’ve had dinner together practically every night.”
“And Hen was the one he took to a bridge game.”
“You didn’t think I was actually going to play bridge, did you?”
“Katarina. I need to know you’re taking this seriously.”
Kitty sighed. “I didn’t know that meant taking bridge seriously.”
“You aren’t down there to lounge by the pool.” His voice took a sharp tone she had rarely heard from him. “I expect you to do better, or you know what’s waiting for you.”
She answered with what she hoped was a suitably meek assent. “So where is he going?”
“Havana.”
She nearly dropped the phone. When she’d sworn to go the next place Andre offered to take her, she had no idea it would be anywhere as exciting as Havana. “Why is he going there?”
“He’s going down there to ta
lk to some nightclub owners. After the Atlanta deal fell through, I had a man there approach me about—” He stopped short. “All that wouldn’t interest you. The long and short of it is, I’m thinking of investing in a casino. Andre is so close right now, I thought I’d send him on over to see what they’re doing in Havana.”
“I’d love to go, Papa, thank you.” She paused. “Hen too, right?”
“Of course. And please tell her it’s my treat. I’ll get the hotel and flight set up. Oh, and I’ll send your passport down express.”
They talked out a few more details, and her father closed with another stern reminder that Kitty should spend as much time as possible with Andre. She hung up the phone, head still spinning. For the opportunity to see the glamour of Havana, she might have agreed to hold his hand the entire time. She rushed into Hen’s room and jumped onto the bed. Hen moaned in protest.
“Wake up, silly,” Kitty said, popping Hen on the arm with a pillow.
“I can’t wake up. I’m dead.” Hen sat up, her eyes still shut tight.
“Too bad. Guess you can’t come with me to Cuba.”
Hen’s eyes flew open at that. “Cuba? You’re going to Cuba?”
“Papa’s sending Andre to Havana on a business trip. He wants to send us too.”
Hen bit her lip. “I don’t know if Mother will go for that. She’s always said Havana is just gangsters and…ladies of the evening.”
“Oh, Hen, she’s not here. You can say hooker.” Kitty stood up. “And we’re not going anywhere shady. We’re staying at the Hotel Nacional.”
Hen balked. “That’s exactly where the gangsters stay.”
“And presidents. And movie stars. If it’s good enough for Gary Cooper, it ought to be good enough for you.”
“I really do have to ask Mother. But if it’s only for a couple of days…and if we’re staying in a nice area…” Hen swallowed. “When are we leaving?”
“Good girl.” Kitty nodded. “We’re leaving next Thursday. That gives us plenty of time to shop for some of those tight skirts like Marcela wears.” And the trip will give us some time away from Charles’s phone calls, she thought.
Kitty left Hen’s room so she could take Loco out and get dressed for the day. As she applied her makeup, she thought of Max. The trip meant that she wouldn’t be able to see him for a few days, but that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He might even be a little jealous at the idea of her running off to an exotic locale with Andre. Still, she wanted to be the one to tell Max about Havana. His reaction would give her a sense of just how far gone he really was.
She snuck down to the club to see if he might be practicing with the band. No luck. The only people in the club were wait staff preparing for the evening. She needed a reliable way to be able to talk to him in private. She already had the spot outside Andre’s office all picked out. Why not use it? She could catch up with him after the band played that night and instruct him to meet her there.
* * *
Kitty was surprised by a knock at the door of the suite late that afternoon. Hen was in her room getting ready for dinner, so Kitty opened the door for their guest. A grinning Andre waited on the other side.
“I’ve got a special treat for you tonight,” he said, stepping into the entryway. “You’ve been wanting to go to the Park Avenue Restaurant? Well, I talked to Wingy Grober today, and he’s guaranteed us the best table in the house.”
Go figure. Andre finally suggested an interesting outing, and Kitty wanted to be in the hotel. “For dinner? Oh, how nice,” she said.
He scratched his temple. “I thought you’d want to go for the whole evening.”
“I do,” she said quickly. “I just thought we could get Sebastian’s take on Cuba. We’ll be so busy with packing over the next few days.”
“How long does it take you to pack?” he asked.
“Plenty long,” she said. “I’m sure men can toss a shirt in a suitcase and go, but it’s a lot more work for ladies.”
Andre snorted. “I’ll take your word for it. But you don’t want to go to Sebastian’s part of Cuba, believe me.”
“I thought he was from Havana.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got you covered,” Andre said. “What do you want to know?”
“It’s not that I don’t trust your guidance, but the first night Sebastian was here, he took us to a great party,” she said. “It was nice, meeting his friends. I don’t want to go to Havana if all I get to see is the same thing I can see right here in Miami.” She was grateful Hen was in her room, where she couldn’t contradict Kitty’s professed enjoyment of Marcela’s party.
“Suit yourself,” Andre said. “You know I’ve got to be in the casinos and meetings, though. It’s not a long trip. I can’t promise I can take you to see any of his friends like he could.”
“I’d like to ask, that’s all. Even if it’s just for recommendations of nightlife tourists might not know about. I don’t want to end up at Sloppy Joe’s with a bunch of Americans.”
“Then you can ask. I’ll make sure we’re back before the band finishes up here, all right?”
“Thank you,” Kitty said.
She agreed to bring Hen with her to the lobby in an hour to take the car to the Park Avenue. Kitty dressed, then went to knock on Hen’s door. After a long pause, Hen called out, “Yes?”
“It’s me, goofy. I hope you’re dressed; we need to meet Andre in fifteen minutes.”
“I’m dressed,” Hen said through the door, “but I don’t know if I’m in any state to go down.”
The door swung open to reveal a red-faced, puffy-eyed Hen. Kitty gasped.
“What on earth happened? Was it your mother?” Kitty grabbed Hen’s hand. “Look, don’t sweat it, it’s such a fast trip. Tell her anything you want, she’ll never know—”
“Not Mother. She didn’t care once I told her we were staying at the Hotel Nacional. Said she’d wanted to see that place herself. I didn’t have much to worry about there.” Hen dabbed at her eyes. “It’s Charles.”
Kitty’s eyes narrowed. That bastard. “What happened?”
Hen walked over to sit on the couch. “He was awful, Kitty. I had to call, I had to tell him we were going to Havana. He said he knew I’d been up to no good. That he had proof. What kind of proof?” She held out her hands, helpless. “There’s nothing to have proof of! I was having such a good time, and now he’s wrecked it. He wrecks everything.” She let out a choked sob and hugged a pillow to her chest. “I know I put on a brave face, and I don’t dare go against Mother when it comes to him. But, oh, Kitty. This trip, being away from him…it’s the most cheerful I’ve been in ages. I know that. And it’s all because he’s not here.”
Kitty’s heart ached. While Charles was berating Hen for perfectly innocent fun, he was probably in bed with half the socialites in Manhattan. She wanted to spill out everything, but if Hen changed her mind about him again, she’d hate Kitty for her scheming. And Hen always changed her mind when it came to Charles. Kitty settled for being comforting.
“Listen to me. If the phone rings over the next couple of days, let me get it. I’ll keep him at bay for a while. He’ll calm down,” she said.
Hen sniffled. “There’s nothing I can do about it anyway.”
Kitty pressed her lips together. “I don’t know if that’s true, Hen.”
“Let’s not go down that road again.” Hen stood, wiped her cheeks with her hand, and fluffed her hair. “You’re right. He’ll calm down.”
Kitty hesitated. “You don’t have to go downstairs if you don’t want to.”
“I’d like to go. I don’t want to stay here and hear the phone ring. Think I can make myself presentable?”
“Sure. Your cheeks aren’t even red anymore. All you need is a little powder,” Kitty said. “If I’d been crying, my cheeks would be red for a week. You’re lucky
like that.”
Hen smiled faintly and went to her room to powder her face. Kitty shoved down the nagging thought that Hen’s sadness was really her fault. It’s all for the greater good, she reminded herself. She’s sad now, but she’ll be as happy as she was last night all the time once he’s out of the picture.
The Park Avenue Restaurant was housed in a concrete building that could have been called nondescript, but for the pastel-pink exterior and the sign on one corner proclaiming it to be WORLD FAMOUS. Otherwise, the square one-story building didn’t give any hint of its luminary status. Though the atmosphere was lively and the steak divine, Kitty couldn’t appreciate any of it. She recognized the trombone player she’d met at Marcela’s party, but the sight of him only served to bring her thoughts around to Max again.
Andre invited Hen to dance. When it was Kitty’s turn, she demurred. Hen and Andre headed back out to the dance floor, leaving Kitty to her thoughts. Finally, as the clock’s hands crept toward midnight, Andre suggested they return to the Imperium. Kitty eagerly agreed, and they were off.
The Zillionaires were still playing when they arrived. Andre went to check on the kitchen, while the girls claimed a vacant table. As soon as the band played the final notes of the last song, Kitty was on her feet heading for the stage. She waved Max and Sebastian over.
“You came in late tonight,” Max said. “Not getting tired of us, are you?”
“No, we went to the Park Avenue. Can’t miss all the other Miami attractions just because of you fellas,” Kitty said.
“Max, you sound like a jealous boyfriend,” Sebastian said. The tips of Max’s ears turned pink as he examined the stops on his trumpet.
“I wanted to tell you two that we’re going to be gone for a couple of days,” she said, the words spilling out.
“Oh?” Max lifted his eyes back to her. “Where are you off to?”
“Havana.”
Sebastian’s eyes widened. “What part will you go to?”
“We’re staying at the Hotel Nacional,” she said. “Andre has to scope out some casinos for Papa.”
