"You got yourself a chunk of ice all right,' Sonny told Shawn. He stared down at me furiously.
"I'm leaving and going to Michael's," he finally said. "You coming or not?"
I looked up at him.
"No means no." I said as hotly and as firmly as I could. He snapped his head back as if I had slapped him across the face.
"Fine. Then let the fat boy take you home," he cried and turned away from me. "Next time my sister wants to fix me up with someone. I'll tell her to think twice. Go call your sister. Delores," he told her. "I should have listened to you and taken her out. This one's jailbait anyway."
All the girls laughed. I glared back at them and then turned away.
"Hey," Buzzy said leaning over to whisper in my ear. "You ever want to go out with a real man, call me. I'm in the Yellow pages under Real Man."
He laughed and they all walked up the aisle, leaving me sitting by myself at the table. I was sure everyone around us was staring at me. Whenever I lifted my eyes from the table and turned. I met someone else's. I felt so stupid and frightened, very much an adolescent drowning in the world of adult quicksand. But I didn't move.
"What happened?" Balwin rushed over to ask me as soon as they all had left the club.
I told him quickly.
"How could he just leave you like this?"
I didn't reply. I stared at the table, my whole body still trembling. I felt his hand touch my shoulder gently.
"Hey, don't worry, Ice. I got my mother to give me the car tonight. I'll take you home," he said. "Do you want to go home?"
I nodded.
"I heard you say you haven't eaten. How about we stop for some pizza on the way? I'm hungry too. I'm always hungry," he confessed.
"Okay," I said. I would have agreed to anything to get out of here.
But as I rose to walk out the door with Balwin. I thought about Mama.
She was surely going to hate me.
4 Allies
I decided not to tell Mama. Both she and Daddy were watching television when I arrived. I tried to be very quiet about it, but the moment I opened the door. Mama was up and in the living room doorway.
"Where's Shawn?" she asked looking past me. "Didn't he escort you to the door?"
I shook my head.
"Doesn't surprise me." Daddy called from the living room,
"And that doesn't surprise me," Mama shot back. She threw a suspicious glance at me and said. "Well, come in and tell us how it was."
"Fine," I said.
"Fine? That's it? Fine?" Daddy looked up at me.
"I heard he took you to the Kit-Kat. They got Barry Jones playing there. right?"
I nodded.
"See, Lena, you didn't want to go there when I asked you to go last month, and here Ice goes and has a good time. Talented combo. What did they do?"
"Ellington, some Benny Goodman, a good Miles Davis," I recited, Daddy's eyes lit up.
"Oh, that you can talk about in detail, but when I ask you a question. I get 'fine.' What's all this talk about the music? What about Shawn Carter?"
"What do you expect her to tell you about him after only one time?" Daddy asked.
Mama shook her head at him and turned to me. "Did you have a good time with him?"
I shrugged. "It was all right."
"Doesn't sound anything like a nice time to me." she muttered. "Ellington, Goodman. Miles Davis, they had a better time. Did you meet his friends? How were they? Did you make any new friends? Are you going out with him again?"
"Why don't you give her a chance to answer one question before you ask her another?" Daddy said.
"I'm waiting for her to say something that tells me something. anything. Cameron, thank you. I put in a lot of work for this and we spent a lot of money to get her out of this cocoon she's wrapped herself in, no thanks to you."
"They were all older girls. Mama. I don't think they want to be friends with me. I'm still in high school."
"You don't look like a high-school girl. Ice. They should want to be friends with you. I bet you were the prettiest one there. right? Huh?"
"You're embarrassing her. Lena."
"She oughta be proud of herself and of me and what we did together. You can brag a little. Ice. Well?"
"I suppose I was. Mama." I looked at Daddy, "I sang 'Lullaby."'
You did what?" Daddy was almost up and out of his chair. "No kidding? With Barry Jones?"
I nodded.
"How did it go?"
"They all stood up and clapped." I said.
"You hear that. Lena? They all stood up and clapped."
"And what was Shawn Carter doing when this was going on?" Mama asked.
"Listening and clapping, too. I suppose," Daddy replied for me. I nodded.
Mama narrowed her eyes.
"What kind of a date was this? You sang with the band?" she wondered aloud.
"She had a good time. Lena. Leave it at that."
"I'm tired," I said. "Good night."
"All she talked about was the music," Mama moaned behind me. "When I went out with a man. I had a lot more than that to say.
"I bet," Daddy quipped and she turned on him.
I shut my door on the bickering and let out a hotly held breath.
I was hoping it was over. Mama would stop asking questions and eventually the whole thing would fade away, but almost as soon as I entered the kitchen the next morning for breakfast, she was on me again. Daddy was still in bed.
"What kind of a dinner did you have? Was it expensive? I bet you had something to drink, huh? I bet they didn't even ask you for identification. Well?"
"Shawn ordered me a gin and tonic, and no one asked me to show them any identification. but I didn't drink any of it," I told her. I was still traveling on the truth.
"Men like to ply you with liquor, so they can soften you up a bit. It's no harm done as long as you play your cards right. I always pretended to be tipsy, but I always knew what was going on around me. The rest of them drank plenty, huh?"
I nodded. "You and Shawn just staved at the Kit-Kat all evening?"
"Yes," I said. but I looked away too soon. "He wanted to take you somewhere else?" I nodded.
"Where? Damn, girl, why do I have to pull
every word out of you? Why don't you just tell me the whole stow at once? You ever say two sentences together?"
"He wanted me to go to one of their houses for a party, but I saidno."
"That so? Well, that's all right. He should respect you more for that. It was only your first date, after all. You did right. I'm sure he understands. He did, didn't he?" she asked.
Just as I was about to burst and tell her all of it, the phone rang. We both looked at it. Mama smiled and I picked up the receiver.
"Hi," I said with enthusiasm after I heard who it was.
"That Shawn?" Mama whispered, hovering over me.
I turned my back without answering. It wasn't Shawn: it was Balwin, "No, it's all right. We're up," I told him.
"I got a phone call just five minutes ago," he said, his voice rife with excitement. "from Barry Jones. They just got in from the evening. After the Kit-Kat Club, they go to another hip jazz joint and play until morning. Then they go for breakfast and after that, go home and sleep all day."
"What a life," I said.
"Musical vampires. Anyway, he wanted to call me before he forgot. He was impressed with you."
"Really'?"
"Yeah, but someone else was, too, someone named Edmond Senetsky, an entertainment agent from New York who was there with a client, sitting in the back of the club. He heard you sing and asked Barry about you and Barry told him he didn't know you, but he knew someone who did. That was me, of course."
"Well. what does he want?"
"Barry said he told him that you should audition for his mother's performing arts school in New York."
"New York?"
"What about New York?" Mama asked from behind me. "He wants to take you to New York?"
/> I shook my head.
"Yes," Balwin said, "He said you should prepare a couple of numbers for the audition and he gave Barry his card for you to call to get the details. Barry read the telephone numbers to me. You want me to give them to you now?"
"No." I said emphatically.
"Why are you saying no? You can go," Mama coached from the sidelines, Again. I shook my head.
"Well, should I come over later with it? This is a big opportunity for you. Ice. At least. Barry thought so and he knows. I heard of this school too. If I wasn't already going to Juilliard. I might be considering it."
"Let me think about it."
"Sure. I'm home all day today. I don't know if I ever told you. But I've been composing songs. My parents got me a piano and put it in the basement. It's nothing like a studio. but I can record quietly and no one bothers me down there. Boy. I'd love to have you try one of my songs." he said.
"Okay, thanks."
"I'm going to call Mr. Glenn to see what he knows about this school in New York," Balwin said, referring to our vocal instructor. "We'll get his opinion about it all."
"Right," I said. "Bye."
"Call me as soon as you can." he said quickly and I hung up.
"What was that all about?" Mama pounced.
I stood there, staring at the phone for a moment and then I turned to face her.
"It wasn't Shawn Carter, Mama. It was Balwin Noble."
"Who's Balwin Noble?"
"He's a boy at school, the one who plays piano accompaniments for our chorus. He's that good." I emphasized, but she didn't look impressed.
"So? What's he want? What was that about New York?"
"He was at the Kit-Kat Club last night when I was there with Shawn," I began.
"Who was?" I heard Daddy say as he came through the kitchen doorway. He scrubbed his hair with his dry hands, yawned and stretched and looked at us. "What's up, you two? You make so much noise, a dead man couldn't sleep."
"If we lived somewhere where the walls weren't made out of cellophane, we could have a conversation without waking each other up in here," Mama retorted.
"Well, what's all the talk?"
"I was just asking about her date, that's all." Mama said. "Oh, that again," he said. He went for a cup of coffee.
"Yes, that again. Then there was this phone call for Ice and I'm asking about that now. Is all this okay with you or do I need special permission to talk to my own daughter?"
Daddy didn't respond. He drank some coffee and began to prepare himself some eggs. He made omelets better than Mama. but I was afraid ever to say so.
"You eat yet?" he asked me. I shook my head. "Lena, you want an omelet. too?"
"No. I don't want any omelet. Damn," Mama said frustrated. She sat looking stunned for a moment. I went to put up some toast. "What was I saying?" she muttered, squeezing her temples between her thumb and fingers. "Oh yeah, New York... what about this boy, Balwin? What's he want?"
I took a breath. turned to her and began.
"When I was singing last night. Balwin was playing the piano. He's a very talented musician and he goes to the Kit-Kat occasionally to sit in with Barry Jones,"
"Wow," Daddy said. "He must be very talented to have them let him do that."
"He is. Daddy."
"Well, that's just wonderful for him," Mama said. "but what's it got to do with you?"
"Barry Jones called him this morning to tell him a New York entertainment agent was there and heard me sing and wanted me to audition for a school for the performing arts."
"No kidding?" Daddy said. "That's terrific."
"What's terrific about it? How she going to go to a school in New York? You know what kind of money that means," Mama practically shouted at him.
"Well, let's see about it first," Daddy said.
Mama stared at him. Her frustration had made her eyes bulge and whitened her lips. She looked at me with growing suspicion now.
"Who brought you home last night?" she asked.
"'Well?" she demanded when I hesitated.
"Balwin," I confessed.
"Thought so."
"What's this?' Daddy asked, turning from the stove. "What happened. Ice?"
"I told Mama they all wanted to go to someone's house for a private party and I refused to go. Shawn didn't understand. Mama, and he didn't respect me for saying no. He got belligerent and he left me there."
"He did what? I told you..." Daddy stammered.
"Oh. shut up, will you, and let the girl talk. finally." Mama said.
"They were drinking a lot and Shawn was too. We never even had any dinner."
"That's what I expected," Daddy said nodding.
"Oh, you expected. What are you, a fortuneteller now?" Mama sat there fuming.
"You didn't act mute or nothing all night, did you?" she asked with accusation written all over her face. "You didn't make them all think you were stuckup?"
"No, Mama. I talked when I had something to say and when they asked me questions, but the other girls didn't want to hear me talk."
"I bet," Daddy said. "What a mess you put her into!"
"Me? I did no such thing. I tried to get her out with people, to become someone. Don't you go making statements like that. Cameron Goodman,"
"It wasn't Mama's fault. Daddy. There was no way for her to know what it would be like."
"A woman with all her worldly experience ought to have known better," Daddy muttered and returned to his eggs.
Mama took the plate on her table, lifted it above her head and smashed it at his feet. He jumped back instinctively, accidentally hitting the handle of the pan, which sent it sliding over the range and onto the floor, spilling our omelets. It was all over in a split second, but it was as if the roof had caved in on our apartment.
"Look what you've gone and made me do!" Daddy cried.
"I'm tired of you making remarks about my past as if I was some kind of street girl, Cameron. I've told you that a hundred times, and I especially don't appreciate it in front of our daughter.
"Now, you've gone and filled her head with so much nonsense about this music thing, she thinks she can run off to New York and be a show star or something. She goes out on a date and gets up on a stage. I bet Shawn felt stupid."
"Why? He should have been proud she was with him. He should have appreciated her more."
"A man likes his woman to give him all her attention, not flirt with some piano player."
"I didn't flirt with him. Mama. He's just a friend. He plays for us at school. He"
"Oh, I heard all that. You went and showed them you were nothing but a high-school girl. All my work and all that expense down the drain.," she moaned, rose, glared at Daddy once and then marched out of the kitchen.
I started to clean up.
"Don't worry about her." Daddy said. "She'll get over it. You did the right thing not going to that house paity. You'd a been trapped with a bunch of drunks," he said. "She knows that. too. She's just... frustrated," he added and helped pick up the pieces of Mama's broken dish.
This was my fault. I thought.
I should have just insisted on not going out.
I should have stayed home and not tried to be Mama.
Balwin called again in the early afternoon to tell me he had spoken with Mr. Glenn and Mr. Glenn had told him the Senetsky School was so special only a half-dozen new students get in it a year.
"It's not just a school. You live there and she teaches you how to handle the entertainment world, how to behave, dress. act-- everything. Her graduates are all in Broadway shows or in television and film. As soon as you graduate, her son becomes your agent, and he's a very successful agent. It's the closest thing to a guaranteed successful ride into show business, whether you act, sing, dance, play instruments, anything she thinks shows real talent. You've got to do this. Ice. You've just got to give it a shot. I'll help you," Baiwin added.
"I don't know," I said still trembling from the battle Daddy and Mama had in the m
orning because of me. The house had become a tomb-- no one speaking, no music, barely any movement. Daddy sat in the living room rereading the same newspaper and Mama was lying down, a wet cloth over her forehead. fuming. I was afraid to make a sound. I was practically whispering on the phone.
"Something wrong?" Balwin asked.
"No," I said quickly.
"Well. I know this sounds like short notice, but why don't you come on over and we'll tinker around with some possible pieces you could use."
I didn't respond.
"You know where I live, right?"
"No," I said.
He rattled off the address and then added directions.
"It's only about a ten-minute walk from where you are," he concluded.
Balwin lived in a nice neighborhood. I had been down that street before. but I didn't know anyone who lived there, until now.
The night before he had told me a lot about himself, His parents were both professionals. His father was an accountant and his mother was a dental hygienist. Like me, he was an only child. He was about twenty pounds or so overweight for his five foot ten inch frame, but he had a nice face with kind, intelligent black eyes and firm, straight lips. He was definitely the best-dressed boy in school and was often kidded about his wearing dress slacks and a nice shirt. They called him Mr. Noble. making "Mister" sound like a dirty word. Some of our teachers called him Mr. Noble, too, but they weren't teasing him. They were showing him respect because he was a good student, polite and very ambitious.
"Okay," I decided quickly."I'll be there."
"Great. This is going to be fun," he said and hung up before I could even think of changing my mind. It brought a smile to my face, which had become like a desert when it came to smiles these days.
I put on my jacket and called to Mama and Daddy from the doorway.
"I'm going out for a while." I shouted.
"Bring back a carton of milk," Mama screamed back at me.
"Okay," I said.
I knew they both assumed I was just going for my usual walk around the block or maybe past some of the stores to look in the windows.
It was a cool, gray day with some wind. Spring was having a hard time getting itself a foothold this year. Winter just seemed to be stubborn, refusing to be driven off. We had had flurries in early April and only one day more than seventy degrees. Today it was in the low fifties. People walked quickly, some re netted not wearing their heavier coats and hats. The weather made them any, as angry as people who had been cheated and scammed by some con man or woman. In this case, the villain was Mother Nature who had offered a contract with the calendar and then broken it with northerly winds and heavy clouds.
Shooting Stars 02 Ice Page 6
