Southern Ruby (30 page)

By the following week, the club was finished and I was called in for my dress rehearsal with Leroy's band. The stage was opposite the bar, and the barman was already in, stocking the shelves.

‘Good afternoon,' I said as I passed him.

He turned, but didn't reply. He was short and wiry, and the expression of disdain on his face made it clear that he looked down on me.
Never mind
, I thought, ignoring the snub.
I bet he doesn't make five hundred dollars a week doing what he's doing.

Leroy was to keep track of where I was in the routine by a strategically placed mirror and a slit in the curtains at the side of the stage. When I took my position, and Annie did some last-minute adjusting of my costume, I noticed him soaking his hands in a bowl of steaming water and wondered why.

He saw me watching and flashed his winsome smile.

‘You won't improvise on me?' I asked, stepping through the curtains. ‘I know you jazz musicians get carried away, but Miss Hanley has blocked out everything perfectly and I've got to make a good impression on Sam.'

‘I'd never do such an ungentlemanly thing,' he answered in a soothing tone. ‘You and me, we're a team.' He dried his hands with a towel and leaned towards me. ‘I'll let you into a little secret, Jewel. You will be fine out there. You know why? Because you're the best. But if you do make a mistake, don't worry — I'll cover for you. That's my job.'

My heart swelled. He'd seen through my bravado and guessed how nervous I was about performing. I wanted to hug him, but of course I couldn't.

‘Thank you,' I replied instead, lowering my gaze before returning to the stage.

Sam and the others took their seats, and the stagehands dimmed the lights before turning on the spotlight. My stomach ached because I'd been holding my breath so long before the band started playing. I glanced at Leroy and he winked. The gesture gave me a surge of confidence and I stepped out on stage, my head held high like a queen. I used Miss Hanley's technique of ‘self-possessed stillness', not moving a muscle until I had the onlookers in a high state of tension. Only then did I begin to dance. True to his word, Leroy had the band punctuating my shimmies, hip-rolls and drops with perfectly timed drum accents and trombone slurs. The embellishments brought my routine to life and made it sultry and sexy.

When the number was over, the onlookers broke into applause. Sam and Miss Hanley stepped onto the stage to congratulate me.

Miss Hanley embraced me. ‘Bravo, Jewel! Bravo!'

‘Well, congratulations to you too, Miss Hanley,' Sam said. ‘And to the band.'

I willed for Leroy to come out on stage too, but he kept his eyes averted from me as he and the band packed up.

Annie and I went to the dressing room, where she helped me out of my costume. When I returned to the bar in my street clothes and looked around for Leroy, he seemed to have already
left. I noticed the barman glaring at me. It was a hate stare if ever there was one. What the hell was his problem?

‘Who are you looking for?' asked Sam, when he saw me rushing into the foyer.

I stopped and pasted on a smile for him. ‘Why, you of course! So how did you like my act?'

‘I told you already. It was good. Now hurry on home and get some rest. It's seven days until opening time and we'll be going over everything again tomorrow.'

When I reached the room in Chartres Street, I soaked my aching feet in a basin of hot water and Epsom salts. Strutting around in stilettos on and off the stage while being elegant was no walk in the park — and it was going to be a full dress rehearsal tomorrow again too. I closed my eyes and relaxed my shoulders. I thought of Leroy again and the kind words he'd said to me that afternoon. I could bear the pain as long as he was there.

In my opening-night performance at the Vieux Carré Club, I did everything Miss Hanley had instructed me to do. As long as Leroy was leading the band, I didn't have a care in the world. When I appeared on the podium, a hush fell over the crowd, sparkling in their tuxedos and evening dresses. Even the waiters stopped in their tracks to see what I was going to do.

Leroy led the band into the first bars of ‘Chloe' and I moved slowly and deliberately, lingering over each step. I executed every gesture — the removal of my jacket, the unfastening of my skirt — with elegance and style, and the audience went from being transfixed, to being aroused, to being dazzled. I had them in my hands, and left the stage to loud applause and a standing ovation. It was exhilarating and I realised that I was no longer a woman trying to make a quick buck. I was a performer.

After the crowd went home in the early hours of the morning, Sam shouted to the barman, ‘Champagne for all the performers and crew, Jimmy!'

The satisfying pop of the cork of a bottle of Dom Pérignon sounded and champagne glasses were filled. The barman handed me a glass and I lifted it, toasting the stage manager and production assistants, the lighting men and Sam in turn. Then I turned to the band and stopped short. The barman was pouring their champagne into paper cups.

The blood rushed to my head.

‘What do you think you're doing?' I shouted at him. ‘You don't treat my band like that! You give them glasses now, you hear!'

The barman spun to face me, his eyes red with fury and his mouth twisted into a sneer. ‘I don't serve Negroes.'

A tense silence fell over the room. The drummer, Abe, looked at me with pleading eyes, as if begging me not to make matters worse. Annie fidgeted with her bracelet. Leroy was sitting with his back to me so I couldn't tell what he was thinking.

But I was so mad at that idiot for humiliating Leroy and the band that I couldn't stop myself. ‘Good!' I said, swiping the bottle from him. ‘Because I don't eat them!'

Everybody's mouth gaped open. Leroy whipped his head around and stared at me like he couldn't believe what I'd said. Then Sam's throaty laugh rang out. The others exchanged glances, unsure what to do, but Sam only laughed harder and eventually smiles broke out on their faces too.

‘Give the band glasses, for God's sake, Jimmy,' said Sam. ‘Where do you think we are? The sticks?'

But Jimmy didn't move an inch and it was Annie who went to the bar and put the glasses on a tray for me to pour champagne into for the band. I could feel him staring daggers at us, but I didn't care. I handed Leroy his glass and our fingers touched. He didn't look at me but he didn't move his hand either.

I turned away and raised the champagne bottle again. ‘Bravo!' I said. ‘Bravo, everyone!'

My face burned as though I was coming down with a fever but I knew there was no inoculation against what was flaming through me. Until then, my only salvation had been the possibility that Leroy had the sense not to feel the same way about me as I did about him. But now, even without looking at him, I knew that last stay was gone.

W
hen I arrived at the rehearsal room to start work on my next routine, I found Leroy there alone. He was straddling a chair by the piano and immersed in reading Charles Dickens'
Our Mutual Friend
. He'd cut his hair, and the neat edges of his hairline accentuated his chiselled cheekbones and strong jaw. He grew more handsome each time I saw him.

I had been longing to find myself alone with him, and now I was terrified of the moment. I cleared my throat and asked, ‘Do you like Charles Dickens?'

He looked up and his lips drew into a smile. ‘Well, this story of a double life is fascinating. One life is demanding enough. A double one would be exhausting!' He stood up and placed the book on top of the piano. ‘You could never be open with anyone.'

If only he knew! Living a double life, I'd discovered, required nerves of steel and constant vigilance to keep your stories straight. The switches from Ruby to Jewel and then back again were playing havoc with my mind, but being Jewel was the only way I could help Maman and Mae.

I quickly changed the subject. ‘Did you always want to be a pianist?'

He stepped towards me, his gaze skimming over me as if he was paying more attention to the red dress I was wearing than my question.

‘I'm not a pianist, Jewel. I'm a piano player.'

‘Is there a difference?' I asked, my face growing hot.

‘A pianist is serious. I'm not serious,' he said with a chuckle. ‘I wanted to be an athlete like Jesse Owens, but I learned from watching older boys that playing the piano was the fastest way to get a pretty girl interested in you. So I gave my dreams of gold medals a miss and concentrated on music.'

A pang of jealousy struck me. It was like I'd seen a whole lot of goodies in the five-and-dime store window but had banged my head on the glass when I'd leaned towards them. Maybe Leroy looked at plenty of girls the way he was looking at me now.

‘Well,' I said, more sharply than I'd intended, ‘if you wanted to be around attractive women, you chose the right profession!'

A teasing smile twitched at the corners of his lips. ‘One pretty girl is enough. Especially if she's fiery.'

The anger rushed out of me so fast I felt lightheaded. Leroy stood on the spot as if he was waiting for something. He was so close that I could smell the minty scent of soap on his skin.

I remained awkwardly where I was, not sure what it was he wanted me to do. The silence between us was like a loaded gun about to go off. Who would make the first move? I lost my nerve and glanced towards the door. ‘I wonder where Miss Hanley is?' I said. ‘She's normally so punctual.'

Leroy sighed and moved back to the piano. I was trapped somewhere between relief and disappointment. I wanted him to stand close to me again but I was scared of what might happen if he did.

‘I'll play your new piece,' he said, rubbing his hands together vigorously. ‘It's “Egyptian Fantasy” by Sidney Bechet.'

His hand-rubbing worried me. Maman's diabetes meant her extremities were always cold. I hoped Leroy wasn't sick too.

‘Do you have trouble with your circulation?' I asked him.

‘Cold hands run in the family,' he replied, stretching his fingers backwards one at a time. ‘I've been to see all the specialists. One says it's because I'm anxious, but that isn't true. Another specialist said I don't breathe deeply enough, but I can run a hundred-yard sprint and not get out of breath, so that can't be right either. I've settled on my mother's explanation:
Cold hands, warm heart
.'

‘Is it true?' I asked, my voice catching in my throat.

He tilted his head to one side and gave me an intense look. ‘Touch them.'

I hesitated, knowing we were venturing close to that forbidden line again. Despite all the jangling nerves in my body warning me to resist, I moved towards the piano and placed my palms on top of Leroy's outstretched ones. He closed his fingers over my right hand and pulled it towards him, placing it over his heart. His chest was so warm it burned my skin.

‘It's true, you see,' he said, staring up at me. ‘Isn't it? Cold hands, warm heart.'

He rose and pulled me closer, drawing his face to mine. Our lips brushed, but at that moment Miss Hanley burst in the door. Leroy pushed me away and hastily sat down at the piano.

Miss Hanley missed catching us by seconds. If she'd seen us kiss she would have told Sam, and Leroy and I would have been out of the Vieux Carré in the blink of an eye. Fortunately she was too preoccupied with her swollen cheek to notice the tension in the room.

‘I'm sorry I'm late!' she wailed. ‘I've had a toothache all night and I've come straight from the dentist.'

‘Do you want to take a break for the day?' I asked, helping her into a chair. I was too scared to look at Leroy's face.

‘No, no!' she said. ‘The costume for this act is the most elaborate one yet, and I've got to teach you how to use the fans. We have to perfect this routine by next week!'

When I finally built up the courage to look at Leroy again, he was shuffling sheet music around on the piano. All the tendons in his neck were standing out like the roots of a fig tree.

If a daughter of mine associated with any nigger, I'd lynch both of them myself
— that's what the man at the anti-integration rally had said. New Orleans was not a city where a coloured man and a white woman could even contemplate being together. White families put their daughters into mental asylums for falling in love with coloured men. The anti-miscegenation laws made it impossible to marry. Even religious leaders argued that God had created separate races and intended them to remain separate. Leroy and I had to stop this dangerous game. Nearly getting caught by Miss Hanley was a warning.

For the rest of the week, I avoided being alone with Leroy. I sensed that he was avoiding me too. We never looked directly into each other's face, but stared at our feet or over each other's shoulder when we had to discuss some point of music.

Miss Hanley was right about my new costume. It was an iridescent gold and sapphire chain, bead and coin G-string and bra, and I was to dance the number using two large black feather fans. ‘Egyptian Fantasy' was heavy on the drums, and Leroy took the saxophone part during the dress rehearsal while another band member, Virgil, filled in at the piano. I knew Leroy had put Virgil in charge of watching me on purpose but when Leroy blew that saxophone and I danced, the music did something to me. It took me somewhere deep, dark and erotic.

I was supposed to hide and reveal myself with the fans in a way that would tease the audience to glimpse something more
than I was giving. But the whole time I danced, all I could think about was Leroy and what it would be like to touch his smooth skin. I lost concentration, and while I was leaning over I accidentally dropped one of the fans. Sam Coppola was treated to a full view of my derriere.

‘
Dio buono!
' he said, standing up from his seat. ‘Don't make that mistake on the first night. The district attorney is my special guest and I don't need us closed up for a month.'

I glanced over to Leroy who'd put down his saxophone and was laughing. I grinned. But one look at Miss Hanley's tense face and I controlled myself. The fans made my dance alluring, but they also required fancy footwork and intricate movements of the fingers and wrists. She had worked for hours with me to get the technique right and I couldn't let her down.

‘I'm sorry,' I said, before nodding to Virgil. ‘Can we begin again?'

The weather was sultry the evening I did the dance with the district attorney in the audience. I worked the fans like a professional. One minute you saw me, and then I disappeared again behind my feathers, revealing and hiding myself like an exotic bird.

When I returned to my dressing room, I heard a loud thunderstorm snapping across the sky. By the time I was ready to leave, the rain was coming down hard. I searched for a cab on Bourbon Street, but they'd already taken the streams of patrons home and had retired for the night. I had no alternative but to borrow an umbrella from the coat-check and make a run for it.

I was hurrying down the street, cursing the overflowing gutters that were ruining my shoes, when I became aware of someone following me. I began to walk faster and they did too.
Then I ran and the steps picked up behind me. I turned to face my pursuer, but couldn't see clearly through the lashing rain.

‘Jewel, is that you?' It was Leroy's voice. He appeared from the dark. ‘Why are you running off in the rain like that? Why didn't you ask Sam's driver to take you home?'

‘I didn't think of it,' I said, feeling the water squelch in my shoes.

He chuckled. The streets were empty, which was unusual for the Quarter even in the early hours of the morning. Leroy must have sensed the opportunity it offered him. ‘Here, let me walk you home,' he said.

I lifted the umbrella to his height and he put his arm around me to shield me from the rain.

We reached the house on Chartres Street. The other residents had closed their shutters against the weather. It was as if the house was squeezing its eyes shut and nobody could see us. I opened the gate to the garden, and Leroy noticed the overgrown ferns and palms and the cracked footpath.

‘You live here?' he asked.

The rain suddenly came down so forcefully it was like someone had overturned a bathtub on us.

‘You're soaking,' I told him. ‘Come inside and I'll make you some coffee.'

He hesitated a moment before nodding.

We went in the side entrance, and I opened the door to my room and turned on a lamp on the side table. The umbrella was dripping so I put it in the bathroom. Leroy's gaze travelled from the armoire where I kept my Ruby clothes to the one where I hung my Jewel outfits. It occurred to me that he was standing on the bridge between my two worlds.

‘You seriously live here?' he asked again, frowning.

I looked around the room and tried to see it as he would. It wasn't really an apartment; it was more like a cramped dressing room.

‘What did you expect?' I asked with a smile. ‘A palace?'

‘Why . . . yes! Or at least something . . .'

I let him leave the sentence unfinished. I'd brought him inside on impulse, without any thought about how I was going to explain this place to him.

‘There are towels in that cupboard there,' I said, pointing to the small linen press near the door. ‘Dry yourself off. I don't want my band leader getting a cold. I can't turn on the heat in summer, but you can roll your shirt and jacket in a towel if you like, then put them on a hanger.'

I smiled at him and disappeared into the bathroom. ‘What a mess,' I muttered when I saw myself in the mirror. My wig had been protected by the umbrella but it was damp. I took it off and placed it on the wig stand. I peeled off my wet dress and underwear and wrapped myself in a robe. My make-up was smudged so I rubbed cold cream onto my face and wiped it off with tissues before removing my wig cap and fluffing out my hair.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Leroy had taken off his shirt and jacket as I'd told him to do and was wearing only his undershirt and trousers. It was the first time I'd seen his broad bare shoulders and the well-defined muscles of his arms.

‘Lord, is that you, Jewel?' he asked, looking surprised and amused at the same time. ‘You sure look different without your war paint. It's like one woman went into the bathroom and another came out. Are you certain Jewel didn't climb out the window?'

I put the coffee on to brew and heated some cream on the stovetop. I'd been pretending and lying so much; I didn't want to lie to Leroy as well.

‘Which version do you like better?' I asked, dipping two teaspoons of molasses into each cup of coffee and handing him his.

He took the cup and looked me over with a pleased expression. ‘Well, I like both, but this brunette version seems a little younger.'