Such a Dance (7 page)

Clarence clapped him on the back. “Well, like you said, it’ll be fun until it ends, eh?”

 

Julian placed himself under the flickering bulb of his regular Bryant Park streetlamp and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag, letting his lips linger over the tip of it to easily tempt anyone watching from the shadows.

Unfortunately, the only one watching was a working boy who called himself Horatio. The kid was seventeen if he was a day, and he wore such ridiculously flamboyant clothes that he was practically a walking advertisement. Tonight he was dressed like a parody of a golfer, his bright red sweater tucked into a pair of baggy golf knickers, and a tweed cap atop his head, perched at a jaunty angle.

“You heard about the cop who patrols this precinct?” Horatio asked.

“Which one?”

Horatio stepped into the light and smiled conspiratorially. “He calls himself Captain Hudson.”

“If that’s his real name, I’m Mayor Walker,” said Julian.

“Doesn’t matter, does it?”

“I suppose not.”

“What matters is that he won’t arrest you if you give him a little attention. I heard last night that he burst into the men’s room and threatened to arrest everyone there unless one of the boys took care of him. Two practically fought each other to do it.”

Julian thought the story unlikely. The cops he knew who patrolled the park were more subtle than that. But he said, “As long as no one spent the night in jail.”

“Might be a blessing.” Horatio grunted. “I ain’t had a decent place to sleep in a week. I was rooming with Sam at a place over on Fifty-seventh, but the landlord kicked us out when he found out how we was paying the rent.”

“Go talk to Mrs. Bloom. She owns a building downtown. She’ll take care of you, darling.” Julian rattled off the address of a friendly brothel madam he knew. He’d stayed at Mrs. Bloom’s in the past, though lately he’d been bouncing around the apartments of men he knew around Times Square. Business had been slow lately and he didn’t have quite enough to rent a place regularly, so he was relying on the kindness of friends until he could put enough money together to get his own place. Maybe then he wouldn’t have to suck strangers’ cocks to survive.

“Thanks,” said Horatio. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

There was some activity over near the restroom building, a quick shout and then nothing. “This cop,” Julian said. “You’ve seen him?”

“Sure did. Serviced him myself three nights ago. Small cock, but—”

“What does he look like?”

Horatio shrugged, which Julian found unnerving. “He’s a big fella. Tall with big shoulders, I mean. He ain’t fat, though. And black hair, but he’s a mick for sure. Bet his real name is O’Neil or something.”

Julian agreed this was probably true, but he didn’t want to dwell. He promised to keep an eye out and then told Horatio to beat it so he didn’t scare off any potential customers.

When Horatio was gone, Julian adjusted the scarf at his neck. He put out his cigarette and lit a new one. He slid the matchbook pack into his pocket and glanced around the park.

Then everything went to hell.

The noise from the restroom building became a cacophony of shouting, and then a half dozen men paraded out, followed by a man in a suit—he was also shouting, but Julian couldn’t make out the words from across the park—and a pair of uniformed police officers. It took Julian longer than he should have to work out that the park was being raided.

He ducked out of the light from the streetlamp and hightailed it over to Sixth Avenue, where he could hide in the shadows cast by the elevated trains and survey what was happening from a distance. Everyone in the park was getting rounded up, all right, including a rowdy Horatio, who was twisting in the arms of one of the uniforms now, clearly resisting arrest.

“We’re shutting this place down!” the man in the suit cried.

Julian ran to the stairs and ran up to the train platform. He hadn’t been spotted, at least, but another minute spent trying to pick up a client would have gotten him arrested for certain. As a train rumbled into the station, Julian wasn’t sure where he’d go—or if he was on the uptown or downtown track—but he got on it and got away from the park.

“It Had to Be You”

W
alter Rhodes came through with a flourish of a song called “My Heart Is Full,” which he handed to Jimmy Blanchard triumphantly one afternoon.

Eddie was in a practice room back stage, alternately plunking out random melodies on the old not-quite-in-tune piano while also dreaming up some new dance steps. Rhodes, Blanchard, and Marian stormed into the room with quite a bit of fanfare. Eddie had a hunch about what was going on based on something Marian had told him, but he waited while Blanchard blustered and Rhodes took a seat at the piano.

Marian watched Rhodes, looking nervous. Jimmy and Eddie had both been telling her for a week that this song was a good thing, that it was the next logical step in her career, but she hardly ever sang in her real voice, and Eddie knew she worried that it wasn’t strong enough. They’d been thinking about ways to integrate Eddie into a love ballad, but as it wasn’t a duet, it meant that for about two and a half minutes, all eyes would be on Marian, and Marian kept saying she didn’t want that kind of undiluted attention.

But Jimmy was excited. Now Marian looked over the sheet music while Rhodes and Jimmy talked it up. Rhodes played the melody, and even Eddie had to admit it was a good song. It suited Marian’s strengths pretty well, too, which surprised him because he couldn’t imagine how Rhodes would have picked up on them from her regular routine. Eddie had heard her natural singing voice dozens of times, but she rarely used it in their routines. The Doozies act didn’t call for a lot of held notes or elaborate melodies. That’s what this song was, though, a really lovely song about the way the singer’s heart soared when she thought of her lover, how she thought of warm weather and flowers even when it was the coldest day of winter.

Really, it was lovely, and it was the sort of love song that made the listener long for a love like that in his life. A dream, in other words.

Rhodes played the melody a few times so that Marian could get a feel for it. Then he played the accompaniment and sang the song himself. Rhodes’s voice was thin and reedy, not up to the task of the song. Marian jumped in and sang the last verse with him. Jimmy’s face lit up as she sang, which Eddie understood; her voice rang clear as a bell.

“Marvelous,” Jimmy said, clapping. “That was just lovely. I think this is the song, Marian. I really do.”

“It’s good,” Marian agreed. “What do you think, Eddie?”

“It sounds lovely,” he said, not wanting to give away that he wasn’t completely comfortable with this song’s introduction to their routine.

“Eddie, please tell me what you think. I want your honest opinion.”

He sighed and stood up. “It’s a good song, Marian, and your voice sounds marvelous. I had quite forgotten how well you can sing. You’ll really wow the crowd next season.”

Marian opened her mouth as if she were about to say something, but she didn’t get the opportunity.

“I was thinking,” Jimmy said, walking over to stand next to Marian, “that we might try the song out later this month. See how the audience reacts to it.”

That caught Eddie’s attention. He turned toward Jimmy, trying to decide if he had the audacity—or the desire to risk his job—to protest.

“You would change the show in the middle of the season?” Marian asked.

“Just a small change,” Jimmy said. “You still do your act, but I was thinking that instead of ‘Turkey in the Park,’ you sing this song. Sing it to Eddie, since he’s supposed to be your husband. Then the two of you dance off the stage together. What do you think?”

Eddie nodded, but he kept his face neutral. “So I would just sit there while she sings?”

“It’s just one measly number, Cotton,” said Jimmy.

Eddie didn’t like it. He turned to Marian to see what she thought.

“We could just try it, Eddie,” she said. “A couple of performances. If it bombs, we go back to the old routine. Yeah?” She looked around to see if anyone else agreed.

Jimmy nodded enthusiastically. Eddie wanted to make Marian happy, but he couldn’t help but think that he was being pushed out of the act. Jimmy threw an arm around Eddie and escorted him out of the room.

Eddie hated Jimmy’s proximity; the man smelled of sour sweat and cigar smoke, not the most pleasant combination. But Eddie went with him into the hallway, where Jimmy said, “Look, Cotton, you know I love your act. You and Marian are one of the most popular acts I got. But if you don’t change, you get stale.”

“I understand, sir.”

“This number is going to make your act, you got that? And let’s keep the lady happy, eh? She wants this, Cotton, but she won’t say yes unless you do.”

Eddie glanced back into the room, where Marian was talking excitedly with Walter Rhodes. She did look happy.

“All right. We’ll do it.”

Jimmy clapped Eddie on the back. “That’s a good fella. I’ll let her know. Now scram for a bit so I can talk to Marian.”

Eddie was frustrated that he was getting kicked out of his practice room, but he nodded and said, “I’ll just be down the hall.”

Jimmy nodded and turned to go back in the room. Eddie lingered in the hall for a moment to eavesdrop. Jimmy said to Marian and Rhodes, “Cotton wants us to do the song, so we’ll add it to the program.” He tilted his head as if he were considering that. “Yes, this will be good. I think next month. Cotton is changing the dance routine anyway, right? So, keep doing the act the way you have been. Then in July, we’ll introduce the new numbers. We’ll bill it as a new Cotton and France act. That is guaranteed to put a lot of people in those seats.” Jimmy nodded to himself. “Yes.
Yes
. This will be spectacular. What do you think, my dear?”

“Let’s give it a try,” said Marian.

Jimmy whooped. He made a show of showering Rhodes with compliments before escorting him out of the room. Eddie ducked into an office to escape being seen. Jimmy saw Rhodes down the hall and then returned to Marian alone and all smiles. “This will be wonderful, Marian.”

Eddie walked back into the hall and stood near the door to the practice room.

“You’re sure I am ready for this?” Marian asked.

“You’re the real star of the show. Everyone knows that. One of these days, you will outgrow Eddie Cotton. I hate to say it, but he’s at the pinnacle of his career right now. He will never get any better. But you, Marian, you could be a real star. And I want to help you become that star.”

Eddie bit his lip to keep from yelling. Blanchard’s opinion wasn’t a surprise but it still hurt like a knife to the chest.

“You really think so?” asked Marian.

“Of course. Trust me, Marian.”

“I want to,” she said. “I will. It’s just that Eddie and I do the act together. We have for nearly a decade. We’re good together. I don’t want to work without him. He makes me better. Can you understand that?”

Eddie let out a breath of relief. Marian, at least, still wanted him. Maybe he wouldn’t be tossed aside just yet.

“Certainly, love,” said Jimmy. “Don’t worry about it. You know my main goal is to make my show the most spectacular revue on Broadway.”

“Okay. Let’s just not be hasty, okay?”

“I am never hasty.”

Eddie ducked away from the door as Jimmy and Marian turned to head his way. He jogged down the hall to the other dance studio, but not before he heard Jimmy and Marian talking as they walked down the hall.

Jimmy said, “Let’s blow off rehearsal for the rest of the afternoon so I can take my ingénue to lunch.”

“I promised Eddie I’d work with him on the new dance steps.”

“Tomorrow, then. We’ll go to Keens, have a real fancy lunch.”

“Tomorrow. Let me check with Eddie, but yes, tomorrow should be fine.”

“I look forward to it. Now, let me tell you about a few other things I have in mind for
Le Tumulte
.”

Eddie closed himself in the studio as they walked off, presumably toward Jimmy’s office. Eddie tried to concentrate, putting himself back through the basic paces of a warm-up, trying to let the rhythm of his regular dance routine distract him from his frustration over the changes to the act. After ten minutes of that, he started practicing the new routine he’d devised.

He kept flubbing the steps. He let out a breath, recited the steps in his head—forward, back, pivot, spin, kick out, left, left, right—but then when he tried out the routine, he tripped. Frustrated, he hopped up and down a few times and tried to shake it out. He tried again and missed a step again.

He knew he had to focus. It wasn’t just that Walter Rhodes had shown up with Marian’s new signature song, and it wasn’t just the probability that Blanchard was sidelining Eddie next season, although both were bothering him a great deal. On top of that, he felt like an ass for not responding more enthusiastically when Marian was telling him about her new song, because it really was a good opportunity for her and the act. Jimmy was right; a new addition to the act would put butts in those seats. Eddie planned to apologize to Marian later.

But, actually, the thing that nagged at his mind more was that he was pretty sure he’d seen Lane Carillo from the Marigold in the audience the previous night, which brought about an unhappy thought: it was among his most fervent desires to see Lane again.

That was what was really making him lose his steps. He cried out in frustration, and tried again. Forward, back, pivot, kick out. He got it that time. So he tried again. And again. When Marian walked into the room, he danced right over to her, grabbed her hand, and pulled her into the dance. He led her across the floor and, because she had also been doing this for years, she got right into it with him, following his lead, falling into the steps. She laughed when he spun her.

“This is great, Eddie,” she said when he stopped.

“I found a tune,” he said. “A little ditty by a composer nobody’s heard of, but it’s catchy. Here.” He grabbed the sheet music from where he’d left it on a chair in the corner. He stood next to Marian as she looked it over, and he hummed a few bars so she’d get the melody. It was a little-known fact that Marian struggled to read music, but she had a prodigy’s talent of being able to sing or play anything after she’d heard it once.

“Oh, I like it,” she said.

“It goes like this,” Eddie said. He stepped away from Marian and did the steps he’d planned out. He breathlessly hummed the tune and hissed and clicked his tongue where appropriate to approximate the percussion, and then he stepped out and held up his hands. “What do you think?”

“It looks great, Eddie.”

“Thanks.” He took a deep breath. “So. You’re going to do the song. ‘My Heart Is Full’?”

She nodded. “Well, Jimmy wants me to. But you’re my partner, Eddie. If you say no, that’s it. I’ll tell Jimmy no.”

Eddie didn’t want to put her in the position of having to be the one to tell Jimmy Blanchard she wasn’t going to be a part of his vision for the show. And, besides that, it was clear that Marian wanted to do the song. “Sing it,” he said.

She clapped her hands together. “It’ll be great! You get the orchestra to play that little song of yours, do that dance routine. You’ll knock the socks off the audience. Then I’ll come out and sing this song, and everyone will be so surprised because it’s so different from what I’ve done before. I think this is really the next step for us. This is the future of our show.”

Eddie smiled because it was hard not to get caught up in Marian’s enthusiasm. “Yes. It’ll be great. I’m sorry for being a sap earlier. The change in plans just took me off guard.”

Marian grinned. “It’s all right. I’m just glad you’re agreeing to the change. I really think this will be great for the act.”

“I agree.”

“Good. I’ll let Jimmy know.”

He walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Please do. But first, try these steps with me.”

 

After the show that night, Eddie walked out of the theater and found that his feet just took him up Broadway to 48th Street. He wanted to see Lane, he admitted to himself. Why, he wasn’t exactly sure. Well, he wanted to have sex again, but there was more to it than that. He wanted to sit in the club and talk to Lane again, too. He wanted to find out what Lane had been doing in the audience at the Doozies.

When he rounded the corner onto 48th Street, he was so startled to see a man walk out of the Marigold that he ducked back around the corner. He peeked, and felt ridiculous for doing so, but saw that the man was, in fact, Lane Carillo. He was dressed expensively in what looked like a black suit with white pinstripes, wide-legged trousers, and a black bow tie. His shoes were so shiny they reflected the light from the street lamps. He pulled the silver cigarette case from his jacket pocket, extracted a cigarette, and then went about lighting it and taking a long drag. He looked so cool, Eddie thought, so in command of his domain, and so impossibly sexy.

Which Eddie thought was a problem. He panicked briefly. What if his advances were unwanted? What if it wasn’t Lane in the audience? What if it was?

No sense going home, though, he thought. He’d made it this far.

He took a deep breath and rounded the corner. He stepped on a twig, and the sound caught Lane’s attention. There was surprise on his face at first, but it eased into a smile.

“Well, shit,” Lane said. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

Eddie laughed nervously.

Lane dropped his cigarette and put it out with his heel. “You’re, uh, just in the neighborhood, right?”

Eddie figured he wasn’t kidding anybody. “Actually, I came to see you.”

Lane bit his lip, but not before Eddie saw him smile a little. Something about that little look that Lane gave him for the briefest of seconds eased his worry.

Eddie added, “You came to the show last night.”

Lane’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he laughed. “I’m surprised you recognized me. But yes. An associate of mine had tickets he couldn’t use and offered them to me.”