TO SING OR NOT TO SING
“SO...WHY ARE we doing this again?” Millie asked.
“Because,” Bessie replied simply. “Blondes have more fun. It’s practically a proven fact. It’s everywhere now. You see it in the pictures and downtown at the diner and—well, look at Judith, even. With her platinum blonde hair, why, she seems to stay busy now. We hardly see her anymore!”
Judith scoffed lightly in objection as she stood at Bessie’s dresser in a glamorous silk kimono-style robe, stirring a potent mixture of chemicals in a small bowl. “Blondes don’t have that much more fun,” she muttered. “Believe me.”
Over the past couple of days, Bessie had spent a lot of time looking at her reflection in the mirror. Perhaps too much time, but a sufficient amount of time, nonetheless. Her skin was lightly bronzed due to repeated sun exposure, which made her happy, and she had finally begun to come to terms with her figure. After all, she loved the way she looked in trousers now and she was beginning to have more fun experimenting with the latest fashions to appear in the department stores.
Her hair, however, remained lackluster.
It certainly was lacking in luster, in the literal sense of the word lackluster. It was dull and mousy brown and lay on her shoulders in dull…dullness. Why couldn’t she have thick, shiny hair like Sue Wilkerson? Why couldn’t it be golden blonde and beautiful and luxurious? Why couldn’t she have Judith’s hair, platinum and glorious, never having seen a single frizz in its entire existence? Blondes did have more fun. It was a proven fact.
Her heart raced as she thought of herself as a blonde. Why, when Zac came home, he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her! She’d have to fight him off with a stick! Blondes were prettier, they automatically got more attention, and everyone wanted to be around them. For a moment, she lost herself as she twirled around her bedroom, practicing the way she would accept Zac’s marriage proposal after he saw her with her luscious, golden blonde locks. With her new blonde hair and her sun-kissed skin, he would propose to her at first sight! For the first time in her life, she would be irresistible!
She got Millie on the horn immediately.
Within moments, Millie then got Judith on the horn and a sleepover was planned for that evening. “I had to call Judith,” Millie told her. “After all, if anyone’s an expert on blonde hair, it’s her!”
Now Bessie sat in her bedroom on a rare breezy night. The welcome air followed a rainstorm that had just passed not long ago and the window was cracked to let in the breeze. Bessie sat in a wooden chair with a towel around her neck and a towel across her chest, trying to convince herself that the potency of the chemicals Judith was mixing wasn’t causing her eyes to water.
Bessie craned her neck to try to see around Judith. “What, exactly, is all that, anyway?”
“Well,” Judith replied matter-of-factly. “I read in a magazine that Jean Harlow uses peroxide, ammonia, Clorox, and Luxe flakes on her hair. I, personally, think that’s a little extreme, especially for a beginner.”
Bessie’s eyes lit up in the mirror as she palmed the ends of her hair. “Oh, Jean Harlow’s hair is so beautiful! I read that nobody’s ever been able to match her shade.” Then her eyes darted over at Judith’s platinum finger curls. “But yours is very close.”
Judith let out a sigh as she tapped the mixer against the side of the bowl. “I’m thinking of getting rid of the blonde.”
Bessie gaped at her. “Whatever for?”
Judith shrugged. “I don’t know. Blonde is…difficult to keep up with. I have to adjust it once a week, at least. Being blonde isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” She, then, turned around with the bowl in her hand. “That’s why we’re starting very slow on you. We have peroxide, one tiny droplet of ammonia, baking soda, and a little bit of honey. It makes a sort of a paste. We spread it out all over your hair, heat it with the hair dryer, wrap it up, let it sit for an hour, and then we wash it out and dry it again. It’s going to be a long night. I’m probably going to need a beer.”
From behind them, Millie giggled and reached into the pocket of her dress. From there, she waved a small, silver flask at the two of them and a grin crept across Judith’s face. Bessie was shocked at the gesture for a moment, as it was right there under her parents’ roof, with her parents just downstairs, if they hadn’t gone to bed, yet, and she was just about to hiss to Millie to put it away when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and thought better of it. After all, Judith was about to make a big change to Bessie that may or may not meet Zac’s approval when she saw him again in two weeks. She sure could use something to take the edge off.
“I call dibs,” Bessie said suddenly.
Both Judith’s and Millie’s eyes widened in amusement and Millie grinned. “Oh, is that so, Little Miss Goody Two Shoes?”
Bessie scowled at Millie through the mirror. “Need I remind you what this Little Miss Goody Two Shoes is now notorious for at that darned gypsy camp? The men still giggle at me when I go there in the afternoons to help Aishe.”
Millie and Judith erupted into a fit of laughter and Judith, red faced, nodded. “She does have a point. Let her at it, Millie.”
When Bessie opened the flask that Millie passed her, the smell nearly knocked her down. It was almost stronger than the concoction that Judith was now massaging into her hair. The potent liquid burned going down her throat and caused her to cough a little as she passed it back to Millie, but it warmed her belly almost instantly and it only took a minute or so before she was smiling.
The girls had passed and finished half the flask before Judith put a stop to the shenanigans. Their laughter was growing louder and Judith had stumbled once and then decided that they should save the other half for later. “Once this is finished, we can all get absolutely swacked,” she promised.
Once Bessie’s hair was soaked, heated, and wrapped, the three best friends sat on her bed together. Bessie grinned from ear to ear. “I’m so nervous, but I’m also excited. I’ve never changed my hair before. Will I be as blonde as you?” She asked Judith.
Judith shook her head and smiled. “Hardly. Your hair will be lighter, but blonde is a process. Let’s see how you like this and then if you prefer it lighter, we’ll try again in a couple of days.”
“What will Zac think?” Millie asked. “Did you telegram him to tell him about it?”
Bessie shook her head. “No. I chose not to bother him with it.” Then she looked from Millie to Judith and back again. “Do you think he’ll be upset?”
“He better not be if he knows what’s good for him,” Judith murmured.
“I’m not sure,” Millie mused. “He glared at me pretty hard when I offered you my lipstick at that notorious gypsy party.”
“Yeah,” Bessie agreed, defeated. “He didn’t like my corset idea, either.”
“So he likes you natural,” Millie confirmed.
“Seems that way,” Bessie confessed.
“Well,” Judith huffed. “It’s only natural for you to want to change your hair, so he’ll get used to it. For instance, I’m thinking about giving up on the blonde, but am I concerned with how Isaac might feel about it? No.”
Bessie looked at Judith in horror. “You’re really serious about getting rid of the blonde?”
“Eh,” Judith scrunched her nose up and shrugged a shoulder. “I’m growing tired of the maintenance. Like I said, it’s a lot of work and a lot of chemicals to be this blonde.
Bessie grinned. “Well, when I go to New York City, I want to blend in with all the popular blondes. Nobody will walk past me anymore, they’ll stop and look! People will notice me! I’ve never had that before!”
Two mouths clamped shut and two pair of eyes, one pair blue and one pair brown, gaped at her. You could hear a pin drop in the room.
“New York City?” Millie clarified.
Bessie’s eyes darted from Millie’s to Judith’s like a deer in headlights. She’d said too much. “Oh, dear,” she said softly. “I suppose the cat’s out of the bag…”
“What cat and what bag?” Millie snapped.
Bessie’s heart pounded. She’d only told Joey because she knew it wouldn’t get back to her parents. With Millie and Judith knowing, that was more people with the knowledge, more opportunities for it to get out. And if her parents found out before Zac came home, Bessie was done for.
“Well?” Judith pressed. “We haven’t got all night.”
Finally, Bessie let out a breath. “I suppose I owe it to you to tell you. But my parents don’t know, so you have to promise not to breathe a single word!”
“When have we ever ratted to your parents?” Millie asked.
“Since I haven’t done anything worth ratting up until a couple of months ago,” Bessie muttered.
Judith shrugged a shoulder. “Fair point. But trust me, Bess, neither Millie or I are in the position to rat anyone out about anything. Now, spill it.”
Looking from her cousin to her friend, their eyes read curiosity and bewilderment, but neither pair read deceit. And, so, Bessie took a deep breath and clutched her hands together. “Zac telephoned me the other day. The boys have been signed to a…permanent theatre in New York. They have a two-week trial run and then…Zac is coming home to get me. I’m…moving to New York to be with him.”
There was a moment of silence before Millie exploded. “What? In two weeks? And your father doesn’t know? What do you expect to do, steal away in the middle of the night? You’ll never make it across the county line!”
Bessie lifted her chin in objection. “Yes, we will. Because Zac and I are going to tell them together. In person.”
“Exactly. And then your daddy is going to take that shotgun right off the wall and blast Zac to bits! He’ll never allow it!”
“Well, he’s going to have to,” Bessie argued. “Because I’m a grown woman now and I’m going to be with Zac whether my daddy likes it or not. And if he has to, he can blast me to bits right along with Zac because this time is the last time we’ll ever be separated again!”
Millie gaped at her younger cousin. “And what about school? Nowadays women have to be educated. Unless they marry rich. And Zac is certainly not rich.”
“As a matter of fact,” Bessie replied haughtily. “Zac said that he would be making so much money that he can send me to an art school in New York. So I’ll still go to school. Just not in dusty old Oklahoma.”
Amidst the testy exchange between the two cousins, neither one of them had taken a moment to notice that Judith hadn’t said a word. In fact, when Bessie finally glanced over at her, Judith was sitting on the edge of the bed and staring blankly into space.
“Judith?” Bessie asked. “Are you all right? Have the chemicals gotten to you?”
Judith’s head turned slowly and the shock on her face was startling. “They’re not coming home?” She whispered.
Regretfully, Bessie shook her head.
Slowly, still in a daze, Judith replied, “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“I think it happened very suddenly,” Bessie said gently. And then it hit her! Oh, poor Judith! She loved Isaac! And whether the two of them had been communicating, Bessie had no idea, but it was apparent that they hadn’t communicated since the decision had been made. “Oh, Judith. Maybe Isaac is planning to come for you, too? In fact, I’m sure he is. Don’t you think so?”
Finally, the color found Judith’s cheeks and she blinked her eyes. “Maybe this is for the best. Maybe he shouldn’t come home. New York will be better for him.” Then she lolled her head to the right and slapped the side of her neck, the kimono sleeve sliding up her arm. “Damn pesky mosquitos,” she muttered.
Bessie and Millie now stared at their friend in horror. Not because of the mosquito, however, but because of the skin they’d both gotten a glimpse of that wasn’t visible before. Bessie thought she might be sick with worry. Millie didn’t waste any time on the subject. “Judith, what’s happened to you?”
Judith’s big blue eyes stared up at her blankly, having been caught off guard. “What?”
Millie glared at her best friend and marched up to her, grabbed her by the wrist, and jerked her arm nearly out of the socket. The kimono sleeve slid further than before now, revealing a large, blue and magenta bruise that extended half the length of her bicep. It was nearly the same color as the abomination on her neck.
Bessie gasped in horror.
“The love bite on your neck is one thing,” Millie snapped. “But what is this? Who did this to you?”
Judith jerked her wrist out of Millie’s grasp just as quickly and made an effort to cover herself with her robe. “That is hardly a love bite, believe me,” she muttered.
“Then what is it?” Millie pressed.
“It’s nothing.”
“Judith Carter, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right this instant, then so help me, I will march straight to that lumber yard right now and pull your daddy off of his job—“
“No!” Judith’s eyes widened in fear. “Please, you can’t tell anyone! Not anyone!”
“Then you better come out with it.”
“No one can know. Not…not even you ladies. It’s safer for everyone that way.”
“Safe?” Bessie squeaked in shock.
“Please, let’s just drop it,” Judith plead.
“All right, I’ve had enough of this,” Millie announced authoritatively. “This entire month, we seem to have gone our separate ways. It’s like we’re all lost and on our own and we shouldn’t be. We’re best friends, we should be there for each other, always! And the distance stops tonight. Judith, I demand you spill your guts this instant. Bessie and I won’t tell a soul. Right, Bessie?”
Bessie shook her head in agreement. “Judith, I’m scared. Not of what you might have to say, but I’m scared for your safety. And the way you looked when you heard about Isaac…do those marks have anything to do with him?”
Judith’s blue doe eyes blinked before they brimmed with tears. Finally, her nose and her cheeks turned pink and she lifted her hand to sweep a tear from her eye. “You know Isaac worked at the speakeasy, don’t you? My cousin’s speakeasy?”
“Yes…” Millie pressed.
“Well when he worked there, I worked alongside him. He dealt poker games and I was his…assistant. When the boys left town, Ike made a deal with my cousin, Johnny, that I would take over Ike’s duties while he was gone. And my cousin accepted.” She paused for a breath of composure. “Except that as soon as the boys left town, Johnny went back on his deal. I don’t deal cards like Ike thinks I do. I perform…other services.”
Bessie’s heart pounded with fear.
“Judith, are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Millie gasped.
Finally, Judith broke down. “I have to,” she sobbed. “I have to because, if I don’t, he’ll hurt Ike! That’s the deal. I’m trapped and I can’t get out and I’ll do anything to keep him safe. I love him!”
“Your own cousin!” Millie exclaimed, astonished. “Your family! How dare he?”
“Nobody can know, please,” Judith begged. “Johnny says he even has eyes up in New York and all he has to do is say the word. I can’t let them hurt him, Millie!”
“Well you can’t keep doing…that.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Sure you do,” Bessie said. “All you have to do is tell the police and have it shut down—“
“I can’t,” Judith shook her head rapidly. “He’ll know it was me that told. And then he’ll hurt Isaac. If I leave, he’ll hurt Isaac. If I tell Isaac, he’ll hurt Isaac. If I…if I do anything except for what I am told, he’ll hurt him. And besides, it doesn’t matter who we tell or what gets shut down. Because some of the most prominent people in Tulsa…” Her voice trailed off.
Bessie’s eyes widened. “Go into the speakeasy? Who? Anyone we know?”
“I’ll never tell,” Judith whispered. “Because they’ll hurt Isaac for sure. And they’ll throw me in jail faster than I can blink. I just have to…I’ll, um…” She relented and let out a breath. “It doesn’t even matter, anyway. I’m about to go back to school, anyway, so it’ll be over then. And Isaac isn’t coming back, anyway, and even if he was, he won’t want me once he finds out what I’ve been doing. I’m just…I’m surviving.”
“But that’s wrong!” Millie objected. “That’s—you’re being held hostage, you’re being r—oh, I can’t even say the word! What you’re doing isn’t surviving, it’s not…it’s not okay!”
“Can’t you just stop going?” Bessie asked.
“No. If I disappear, they’ll go after Isaac, looking for me. He won’t know a thing. Then they’ll hurt him for lying. I. Can’t. Move.”
“So you’re just going to continue to sell yourself,” Millie said.
“I’m not doing it because I like it!” Judith argued. “I hate it! I go home and vomit nearly every night! I’m ashamed of myself, I feel so dirty, there isn’t enough soap to scrub with! But Johnny, he—he knows people. He knows everyone. And with the type of men who walk in there at night, telling anyone isn’t going to make a difference. Like I said, all it will do is get Isaac hurt and me thrown in jail. I won’t risk it.”
“Oh, Judith,” Bessie whispered. “How did you get yourself into this?”
“It was only poker!” Judith burst into tears. “It was only card games and bets!”
As Bessie slid a sympathetic arm around Judith’s shoulders, Millie’s eyes lit up. “Fake sick!”
Judith sniffled and looked up at Millie. “What?”
Millie’s eyes were far off into space as she thought up her plan, her hands fidgeting together as she paced the room. “That’s it!” She continued. “All you have to do is fake sick! We have plenty of makeup to do it. We’ll redden your eyes and your nose…all you have to do is be convincing about it next time you go in. Tell your cousin you’re horribly sick and—oh, even better!—tell him you think you got something from someone at the speakeasy! He wouldn’t want his patrons getting…whatever you have, would he? Word would get around, it would affect his money. Of course, he’ll want you back when you get better, but what if you don’t get better? What if you have something like…influenza!”
Bessie’s eyes widened and she smiled. Millie was brilliant!
“I’d have to fake sick for weeks,” Judith hissed. “I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere in Tulsa!”
Millie arched an eyebrow. “Would you rather sit at home, bored, or keep getting used and abused every night?”
Judith’s jaw slackened and her eyes drifted between Millie’s and Bessie’s. “Do you think it would work?”
“I think it’s worth a shot for sure,” Millie encouraged her. “If he thinks you’re sick and he’s forced to send you home, he won’t have any reason to hurt Ike because you didn’t actually betray him. If anything, one of his customers screwed you over—or screwed him over, if you’re able to sway his mind that way. He’ll be forced to let you stay home—and there’s nothing he can do about it. His hands are tied!”
Bessie’s smile widened in excitement and she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around her cousin’s neck and squeeze the breath out of her. “It’s a brilliant idea! We’ll both help you. When do you go back?”
“Tomorrow night,” Judith replied.
“Excellent,” Millie hissed. “That gives us tonight and all day tomorrow to plan your…illness. Tomorrow night, Bessie and I are driving you downtown.” Millie’s smile grew. “And then we’re driving you straight back home.”
Finally, Judith smiled, fresh tears brimming her beautiful eyes. “Oh gosh, you guys. You’re simply the best. I wish I had thought of this a long time ago. I don’t know what I would do without you!”
A group hug followed, with both Judith and Millie nearly shoving Bessie away from them. Bessie looked offended until Judith coughed and blinked her eyes. “I think it’s time to get some heat on that hair.”
Bessie’s eyes brightened. “Will that help lighten it?”
“We’ll see after another hour. After I apply the heat, it has to sit again.”
Bessie frowned and slumped her shoulders in a pout as Judith plugged the dryer into the outlet and ran the heat over Bessie’s towel-covered head. Judith and Millie hadn’t been kidding about the aroma and Bessie found herself coughing, as well. After a few more minutes, Judith tightened the towel around Bessie’s hair and directed her attention to Millie. “There anything left in that flask?”
Letting out a breath, Millie passed the flask for her. “You’ll probably need it anyway. Because since we’re catching up and confessing and such, I might as well fill you in on what I’ve been up to.”
Bessie clamped her mouth tightly shut while Judith turned up the flask and then looked at her best friend with concern. “Well, don’t look so enthused.”
“Joey and I had sex. And then I broke up with him.”
Judith choked.
In fact, she choked and then she went into a coughing fit, and then Bessie had to slap her on the back while offering her the flask once more so the liquid could clear her throat.
After a moment, as the redness left Judith’s face, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and she gaped at Millie. “Queer boys can’t have sex with women, Millie!”
“Could you be any louder?” Bessie hissed.
Judith rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. “How did you manage that? Was he drunk? How was it?”
Lowering herself slowly onto the edge of the bed, Millie swept her raven hair off of her shoulder and replied solemnly, “It was the best sex of my life. We did it in Bessie’s barn.”
“Millie!” Bessie scolded.
“What?” She replied simply. “You had sex with Zac in that barn.”
“It’s my barn!”
“So how did you get him to do it?” Judith pressed, tossing herself eagerly onto the bed and leaning her torso forward as if she were straining to hear.
Millie shook her head. “I didn’t. He just did it. We had just been arguing—we had an encounter with Billy Connors and his cronies and they bullied us. And it upset Joey. And I think…in the heat of the moment, he just did it. And it was the best thing I ever felt…ever.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Judith mused. “He likes girls after all…”
“He doesn’t,” Millie confirmed. “It was very fast. He didn’t even look at me, he didn’t even really touch me. I think…I think he pretended I was someone else. If you know what I mean.”
Bessie couldn’t speak. She should. She should tell Millie that she already knew, that Joey had already confided in her. But what would it matter? What difference would it make now? So she chose to keep quiet and let Millie tell her story. Because according to Joey’s side of it, the way Millie felt was practically spot on.
“Oh, no,” Judith whispered regretfully.
“But I don’t want to be someone else,” Millie continued. “I want to be me. I want him to want me. I don’t want to be a substitute. And after we were through, he started acting all macho like he had something to prove, that he wasn’t that way, it was as if he had done it all to prove a point. And I deserve better. So I broke up with him. He likes boys. He will always like boys. Nothing will ever change that and that’s the reality.”
“But you liked him so much,” Judith said.
Millie nodded. “I still do. We haven’t spoken since, but…I hope someday it won’t be so awkward anymore. I had a good time while it lasted.”
“Well, I’m proud of you for being so strong,” Judith replied with a smile. “And that deserves another drink.”
“Is there anything else in that flask?” Bessie asked.
“No,” Judith replied with a sigh. “But I bet there’s lemonade in the refrigerator downstairs.”
At this, all three girls grinned at each other and they tiptoed quietly down the stairs, Bessie’s head smelling up the hallway all along the way. Bessie’s warm and fuzzy grin never left her face as the three of them huddled around the refrigerated unit in the kitchen. She would miss this. When she moved to New York City, she wouldn’t have sleepovers like this anymore. In fact, she wouldn’t know anyone but Zac. And the thought of being wrapped up in Zac’s arms every night warmed her heart, but part of her knew she would miss home terribly, especially because of nights like this.
Before she had an opportunity to get choked up, however, Millie scrunched up her nose and sneered at Bessie. “You reek, you know that? Those chemicals are so strong…it’s like there isn’t even any honey in it at all.”
She wasn’t kidding. Bessie was potent. And in reply, she turned up a corner of her mouth and said wryly, “Guess my daddy better not light his pipe anytime soon.”
And with that, the three girls screamed with laughter.
TAKING UP PERMANENT residency in a theatre was exhausting. Taking up permanent residency in one of Manhattan’s premiere theatres? It made one’s head spin from sun up to sun down.
Harvey Goldstein had wasted absolutely no time putting the brothers to work the very moment their contract went into effect. He had an entire schedule made out for them, all the way down to allotted meal times. Their days started at eight AM sharp and were chock full of radio spots, newspaper interviews, and photographs. When they weren’t advertising or eating, they were rehearsing—and Mr. Goldstein was there, breathing down their necks every step of the way.
Zac should have felt more appreciative than he did, that much he knew. This was his livelihood now. This was his and Bessie’s future. He should be spending the days with nothing less than a smile on his face and a skip in his step. But while Taylor was all about the photography and Isaac was all about the interviews, Zac was all about not being under the microscope of Harvey Goldstein. This was their act, after all. This was what they were hired for, right?
What was even more frustrating about it all was how willing Isaac and Taylor were to lay down and take it. Zac didn’t care what Mr. Goldstein thought of the colors of Isaac’s scarves or whether he felt like Taylor needed to have more interaction with the audience. They’d had this act down cold for years. It was foolproof.
And foolproof it certainly was, as it reflected in the ticket sales. For the first week, they performed in front of a packed house with standing room only. The applause was wild and the chanting for more was endless. After the shows, they were made to go into the lobby and greet the patrons and they were bombarded with compliments every night. Zac didn’t understand Mr. Goldstein’s need to keep such a scrupulous eye on everything because it obviously wasn’t necessary. The act was a hit. The Incredible Hansons had returned!
Sold out or not, however, it didn’t stop the meeting that Mr. Goldstein called in his office the following rainy Monday morning. Monday was the only day the brothers had off, according to their schedule, and the last place Zac wanted to be was in a meeting. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, anxiously awaiting the meeting’s start.
Mr. Goldstein’s office was stark and plain, an absolute world of difference from the rest of the theatre. It was surrounded by stiff, pale yellow walls, wooden picture frames full of credentials, and a fake plant in the corner. There was one window, the blinds half drawn, displaying a sliver of the marvelous view of brilliant red brick that made up the building next door. There was nothing warm or inviting about the room. Zac might as well have been standing in the doctor’s office. Or the police station.
Mr. Goldstein’s current expression certainly fit both scenarios.
As he examined the three brothers, never once inviting them to sit, he pulled the cigar from between his teeth and tapped the ashes into a glass tray. “Well, boys,” he finally began. “Over the weekend I included small survey in the programs that allowed the patrons to mark a few answers and drop into a box on their way out the door. We’re in the business of entertainment. We can’t rely on tickets to buy themselves. We have to connect with our audience and give them what they want. I figured since we’re on a trial run, I’d take a look-see at what we have to work with.”
“Our first week was excellent,” Taylor beamed.
Mr. Goldstein arched an unamused eyebrow.
“What sort of questions were on the survey?” Isaac asked.
Flipping open a file on his desk, Mr. Goldstein retrieved a stack of papers and distributed them amongst the three. “Read for yourself. It’s all right there.”
For the next few moments, the only sound that could be heard was the rustling of papers. Zac skimmed through his stack quickly. He saw the same words over and over: Tired. Boring. Same. Unimpressed.
This was bullshit. How did the brothers know that Goldstein, himself, didn’t fill all these out just to throw his weight around? And what theatre surveyed their patrons, anyway?
His eyes came up off the paper and he was just about to speak up when his eldest brother beat him to it. “This doesn’t make any sense,” Isaac protested. “This is bullshit. You signed us up for this. You convinced us that we’d be the next big thing here. What the hell is going on here, anyway?”
“I told you boys that this was a trial run,” Mr. Goldstein replied with a puff of his cigar. “The contract is for the trial run. And the run…looking a little bleak.”
“Bleak? That’s impossible!” Taylor argued. “Were we all witnessing the same crowds last week?”
“Curiosity,” Mr. Goldstein replied. “That’s all that was. Everyone wanted to see the brand new act at the Mahoney. Which is great if you can keep them interested. But the majority of those papers there say that these people most likely wouldn’t buy another ticket. And they may or may not refer their friends. ‘Maybe’ don’t work in this industry, boys. They either like you or they don’t. And the truth is, it’s looking like this little act isn’t going to withstand the test of time here at the Mahoney as originally intended.”
Zac was flabbergasted. What the hell was all this for, anyway? He could very well be happy and safe in Bessie’s arms right this very moment, but instead they’d been suckered into promises of a future. He’d even gotten Bessie worked up about it, making promises to her that he was guaranteed that he could keep. They’d been led to believe that a two-week trial run was a mere formality and that the future of their act was pretty much set in stone. Why, during their lunch hours, Zac was already scouring the newspapers for available apartments to bring Bessie home to in the week or two. How was this even happening?
As the brothers exchanged glances filled with mixtures of surprise and suspicion, Zac’s usual hot-tempered nature seemed to take a back seat all of a sudden—mostly due to the fact that Isaac’s face was so red that Zac was sure he would see smoke coming out of his ears at any given second. So he kept his mouth shut and let the group’s businessman do the talking.
“This is impossible,” Isaac argued. “There is no way that one measly stack of papers can speak for this entire city, I won’t accept it! We’ve hardly been given a fair chance here!”
"Let's face it, boys," Mr. Goldstein said, swiveling in his desk chair. "Vaudeville's dead. It's been dead for a long time. This past week was fun and all, but that act of yours ain't gonna hold a lot of water up here in the big city."
"I think the sold out crowds for the past three nights would beg to differ," Isaac countered.
"It's old news. They got their fix and now they're done. It was a fun little run, but now it's over. People want musicals now. Full stories with boisterous song and dance. They want them in the form of talking pictures and flamboyant stage shows. And you boys ain't got none of that. The truth of the matter is, the only thing you boys got holding your act together at all at this point is that one right there," he said, pointing his finger at Taylor, who stood in between his brothers. "He's the one with the face, he's the one all the ladies are paying to see."
Taylor's face turned red and he scoffed in annoyed denial, looking at his brothers. "But that's not what it's about..."
"That's hogwash and you know it," Zac spat at Mr. Goldstein. "We were the biggest thing in vaudeville, people came to see our act because we're good at what we do--"
"Come on, Zac. Do you really think people are that interested in seeing you do the same old boring tricks night after night?"
"When Houdini was alive, people flocked by the thousands--!"
"Because Houdini kept them interested. Are you risking your lives day after painstaking day in the name of art? No. You're doing tired old card tricks and pulling rabbits out of hats. People buy tickets to sleep in the cushioned seats. Your act is done for. It was done for a long time ago. Now, if you boys happen to have something a little different to offer me, I might be able to get you back on that stage out there. Because I like you boys and I want to help you. But you're gonna have to impress me. Because right now, as it stands, this one," he said, pointing listlessly at Taylor once more, "is the only one of you who has a shot at the big time here and I got several Broadway bigwigs knocking my door down to get to him."
"I have a name," Taylor muttered through his teeth.
"Yes, yes, of course you do."
"This is bullshit," Taylor spat, disgusted. Wiping the sweat from his upper lip, he turned around and walked out the door.
Zac and Isaac glanced at each other, neither one of them quite through with this meeting. "If you'll just excuse us for a minute," Isaac said, attempting to save face.
"Certainly," Mr. Goldstein replied. "Take all the time you need."
Stepping out into the hallway, they witnessed Taylor as he paced in a rage back and forth. Upon sight of them, he wasted no time expressing his anger. "Is that all I am to everyone? Just a pretty face? Is that all I've ever been?"
"Of course not--" Zac started.
"You know, I could make a--a whole fucking elephant disappear in the blink of an eye! Is nobody looking at that? Or are all they all just waiting for me to bat an eyelash? Is that what my entire existence has been about?"
"We're in the entertainment industry, Tay. You know that it's about what you look like on some level. You heard him, Broadway's practically falling all over themselves to get to you. That's a pretty big deal."
"But who do they want, Ike? Do they want me or do they want my face? Do they even give a shit that I was solely responsible for changing a man's entire religion based on how good I mind-fucked him with that levitation act I managed to pull off on a whim on Coney Island? I put blood, sweat, and tears into my illusions because that is my art, not so I can sing and dance in some frilly fucking stage show! It's degrading!"
Suddenly, a light bulb went off in Zac's head. While he felt for his brother, and had felt for him for quite awhile now, he had just given him the most brilliant of ideas. His eyes widened and he looked at each of this brothers. "Do you guys want to keep this act together or not?" He asked.
Taylor and Isaac stopped talking and looked at him. "Well I'm sure as shit not going solo, I'll tell you that," Taylor retorted.
"Then I think we should sing," Zac whispered in thought.
Taylor and Isaac looked at him, dumbfounded for a moment. "Sing?" Isaac said. "Are--are you sure?"
Zac nodded, taking in a breath to calm himself at the thought. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. You heard him, music is the next big thing. And--and we can sing. You know we can. And Ike has that guitar, we could incorporate that somehow. Yeah. I think we could do it. I think we have what it takes. We'll be back on top again in no time."
"Yeah, but--but, Zac, you hate to sing," Isaac said gently. "Every time we sing, you find some way to botch it up."
"But it's our last hope," he answered. "It's the last chance for our act. If we don't make it with our voices, then I'm afraid it's over for us. For good."
Taylor took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "It's not over for us. People want to be entertained all the time, we just have to find the right audience--"
Zac shook his head. "I'm tired, Tay. We've been chasing dead ends for so long. I think that if we don't make it this time, then I'm ready to wash my hands of this whole thing--"
"You don't know what you're saying right now," Taylor argued.
"Yeah, Tay, I do. Look, I'm--I'm twenty-six years old. I got a good woman waiting for me back home that I want to marry someday and I think I'm just ready to settle down. Tulsa's my home. I just--I think I just want to go home and get on with my life."
"So you just want to give up on us," Taylor spat, his anger rising again. "And go home to what? You have nothing to go home to, Zac!"
Now Zac's patience was wearing thin and his heart started to pound with his change in mood. "Are you serious? I have everything to go home to. My entire life is back home--"
"Your entire life is here! In this room! With us! Blood! You really think she's gonna be there when you get home? Do you really want to go home and watch her turn around and leave you in the fall so she can go to Oklahoma City and hook up with some football jock? All you did was prime her, Zac. You just primed her for the taking."
"You watch your mouth," Zac threatened through gritted teeth. "You have no idea what you're talking about, she loves me."
"Sure, she loved you for the summer. She never knew any other men before you. You think she's not gonna go off to school and get curious? And then what will you have? Nothing. Nothing, when you could be here, making hundreds, even thousands, on top of the world, while she's on her back underneath the entire University of Oklahoma football team."
Zac's face grew burning hot. He'd never known rage like this before, not even when he put Billy Connors on the ground. The part he tried to push out of his mind, however, was the off chance that Taylor could possibly be right and that Zac could very well lose Bessie once she went off to school. The truth was, he'd thought about that at least once a day every day since he'd met her--but he'd never heard it out loud before.
"I reserve the right to do with my life what I want to do with it," Zac said darkly in a desperate attempt to cool his rising temper. "I'm the one who just suggested we sing, which is something you know I can barely handle. I'm willing to sing for you. For us. For this act. I want this as much as the both of you do, you know I always have."
"Right," Taylor sneered. "You want it so bad that you're ready to take the next train out to the first virgin pussy you sink your dick into. I should have known you'd flake out. I should have realized you were whipped when you took that licking from those high school guys and didn't end up in jail over it. That little piece of tail has turned you soft. She's ruined you, she's ruined us all! Go ahead. Leave. But when she fucks around on you, don't you dare come crying to me!"
And that was when Zac snapped. He flew across the room in an instant and had Taylor by the throat against the wall so fast, Isaac didn't even have time to cross the room to stop him. Taylor's face was turning red quickly, but Zac's rage got the better of him. "I told you to watch your mouth, I'll kill you right now, with my bare hands! I swear to God, I'll kill you!"
"Then do it!" Taylor choked out. "Do it right now, I’m begging for it! Dear Lord in Heaven, I think it’s finally gonna happen!"
This comment startled Zac and his eyes widened, his rage subsiding just as quickly as it came on. Releasing his brother, he took a staggered step back as Taylor coughed and gasped for air. "You didn't mean that," Zac whispered. He knew Taylor was having a few personal issues, but he had no idea that they went this deep. He had no idea he was quite this depressed. How could he want to wish something like that for himself?
As Taylor recovered, he looked at both of his brothers. "You guys don't understand. You don't--you just don't. I have--I have nothing to live for. Not like you guys do. Ike's got his--his poker and his mechanics skills. Zac, you've got Bessie and the feed store and--and plans for your future. And where does that leave me? I've spent my life used by women, used by vaudeville, and now used by New York City. My entire career has been nothing but a sham, but yet--yet, this life is all I have. Without this act, I have nothing to live for. Nothing."
"Tay, that's not true," Isaac said. "This is crazy talk, this is--if Zac and I had only half the talent that you had, we'd be downright dangerous. Do you know that? You're a good person, Tay, you're--well, you're everything I wish I could be. I might be your older brother, but I look up to you. I respect the hell out of you. You're the whole package. You're the looks, the talent, and you've got the heart of gold and the intelligence to boot. Mr. Goldstein is right about that, you carry this act, you've always carried this act. I just wish you believed in yourself as much as Zac and I believe in you."
"And what about Aishe?" Zac asked. "Aishe would just be devastated if you weren't here anymore. And--and so would Bessie. As much as it grates on my nerves, she thinks you're the greatest thing since sliced bread."
"Look, I'm sorry about what I said about her. Okay? I didn't mean it, I didn't mean any of it, I was just--I was upset. Okay? Please don't tell her I said any of those horrible things, I swear I didn't mean it."
"I know," Zac nodded.
"Do you really think Aishe would miss me?" Taylor asked, vulnerable and unsure.
"Absolutely," Isaac smiled. "I mean, hell, she agreed to marry your crazy ass, didn't she? How could you say you have nothing to live for? You have her. Live for her. She loves you. How could you--how could you forget?"
Taylor looked at him, helpless. "I--I didn't forget, I--she's--she's everything and I miss her and--and if we made it big again, it would be really good for us. I could support her, I could...get her grandmother to a doctor and her brothers, I--I want to be a good husband. I don't want her to regret marrying me and I don't want to come home after this long with nothing to show for it. For the first time in my life, I mean something to someone. And I like the way that feels. And it scares the hell out of me to know that that might go away. Sometimes I feel like--like I'm drowning and I just can't swim my way back to the top. Like I'm anchored to the ocean floor and the key lay in the sand just out of my reach."
"I think we're all at fault here," Isaac said, resting his hands on his hips. "I think we could have been better brothers to each other. When we were famous we were going our separate ways, running wild all over the place. When we ended up living in the trailer we went our separate ways just trying to make ends meet. We're living three different lives right now and it feels like we're losing sight of what family really means. We might not have Mom and Dad or the farm anymore, but we still have each other. And neither of us should ever feel like we don't want to be on this earth anymore. You know?"
"We should be supporting each other, not fighting," Zac agreed.
"So...what do we do now?" Taylor asked. "This is lovely and all, but I still think our act deserves another chance."
"I, uh, I agree," Isaac said.
Then both brothers looked at Zac.
Taking a deep breath, Zac nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I say we sing."
"We sing!" Taylor and Isaac smiled in unison.
And then the three brothers turned around and walked back into Mr. Goldstein's office.
“SO...WHY ARE we doing this again?” Millie asked.
“Because,” Bessie replied simply. “Blondes have more fun. It’s practically a proven fact. It’s everywhere now. You see it in the pictures and downtown at the diner and—well, look at Judith, even. With her platinum blonde hair, why, she seems to stay busy now. We hardly see her anymore!”
Judith scoffed lightly in objection as she stood at Bessie’s dresser in a glamorous silk kimono-style robe, stirring a potent mixture of chemicals in a small bowl. “Blondes don’t have that much more fun,” she muttered. “Believe me.”
Over the past couple of days, Bessie had spent a lot of time looking at her reflection in the mirror. Perhaps too much time, but a sufficient amount of time, nonetheless. Her skin was lightly bronzed due to repeated sun exposure, which made her happy, and she had finally begun to come to terms with her figure. After all, she loved the way she looked in trousers now and she was beginning to have more fun experimenting with the latest fashions to appear in the department stores.
Her hair, however, remained lackluster.
It certainly was lacking in luster, in the literal sense of the word lackluster. It was dull and mousy brown and lay on her shoulders in dull…dullness. Why couldn’t she have thick, shiny hair like Sue Wilkerson? Why couldn’t it be golden blonde and beautiful and luxurious? Why couldn’t she have Judith’s hair, platinum and glorious, never having seen a single frizz in its entire existence? Blondes did have more fun. It was a proven fact.
Her heart raced as she thought of herself as a blonde. Why, when Zac came home, he wouldn’t be able to stay away from her! She’d have to fight him off with a stick! Blondes were prettier, they automatically got more attention, and everyone wanted to be around them. For a moment, she lost herself as she twirled around her bedroom, practicing the way she would accept Zac’s marriage proposal after he saw her with her luscious, golden blonde locks. With her new blonde hair and her sun-kissed skin, he would propose to her at first sight! For the first time in her life, she would be irresistible!
She got Millie on the horn immediately.
Within moments, Millie then got Judith on the horn and a sleepover was planned for that evening. “I had to call Judith,” Millie told her. “After all, if anyone’s an expert on blonde hair, it’s her!”
Now Bessie sat in her bedroom on a rare breezy night. The welcome air followed a rainstorm that had just passed not long ago and the window was cracked to let in the breeze. Bessie sat in a wooden chair with a towel around her neck and a towel across her chest, trying to convince herself that the potency of the chemicals Judith was mixing wasn’t causing her eyes to water.
Bessie craned her neck to try to see around Judith. “What, exactly, is all that, anyway?”
“Well,” Judith replied matter-of-factly. “I read in a magazine that Jean Harlow uses peroxide, ammonia, Clorox, and Luxe flakes on her hair. I, personally, think that’s a little extreme, especially for a beginner.”
Bessie’s eyes lit up in the mirror as she palmed the ends of her hair. “Oh, Jean Harlow’s hair is so beautiful! I read that nobody’s ever been able to match her shade.” Then her eyes darted over at Judith’s platinum finger curls. “But yours is very close.”
Judith let out a sigh as she tapped the mixer against the side of the bowl. “I’m thinking of getting rid of the blonde.”
Bessie gaped at her. “Whatever for?”
Judith shrugged. “I don’t know. Blonde is…difficult to keep up with. I have to adjust it once a week, at least. Being blonde isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” She, then, turned around with the bowl in her hand. “That’s why we’re starting very slow on you. We have peroxide, one tiny droplet of ammonia, baking soda, and a little bit of honey. It makes a sort of a paste. We spread it out all over your hair, heat it with the hair dryer, wrap it up, let it sit for an hour, and then we wash it out and dry it again. It’s going to be a long night. I’m probably going to need a beer.”
From behind them, Millie giggled and reached into the pocket of her dress. From there, she waved a small, silver flask at the two of them and a grin crept across Judith’s face. Bessie was shocked at the gesture for a moment, as it was right there under her parents’ roof, with her parents just downstairs, if they hadn’t gone to bed, yet, and she was just about to hiss to Millie to put it away when she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror and thought better of it. After all, Judith was about to make a big change to Bessie that may or may not meet Zac’s approval when she saw him again in two weeks. She sure could use something to take the edge off.
“I call dibs,” Bessie said suddenly.
Both Judith’s and Millie’s eyes widened in amusement and Millie grinned. “Oh, is that so, Little Miss Goody Two Shoes?”
Bessie scowled at Millie through the mirror. “Need I remind you what this Little Miss Goody Two Shoes is now notorious for at that darned gypsy camp? The men still giggle at me when I go there in the afternoons to help Aishe.”
Millie and Judith erupted into a fit of laughter and Judith, red faced, nodded. “She does have a point. Let her at it, Millie.”
When Bessie opened the flask that Millie passed her, the smell nearly knocked her down. It was almost stronger than the concoction that Judith was now massaging into her hair. The potent liquid burned going down her throat and caused her to cough a little as she passed it back to Millie, but it warmed her belly almost instantly and it only took a minute or so before she was smiling.
The girls had passed and finished half the flask before Judith put a stop to the shenanigans. Their laughter was growing louder and Judith had stumbled once and then decided that they should save the other half for later. “Once this is finished, we can all get absolutely swacked,” she promised.
Once Bessie’s hair was soaked, heated, and wrapped, the three best friends sat on her bed together. Bessie grinned from ear to ear. “I’m so nervous, but I’m also excited. I’ve never changed my hair before. Will I be as blonde as you?” She asked Judith.
Judith shook her head and smiled. “Hardly. Your hair will be lighter, but blonde is a process. Let’s see how you like this and then if you prefer it lighter, we’ll try again in a couple of days.”
“What will Zac think?” Millie asked. “Did you telegram him to tell him about it?”
Bessie shook her head. “No. I chose not to bother him with it.” Then she looked from Millie to Judith and back again. “Do you think he’ll be upset?”
“He better not be if he knows what’s good for him,” Judith murmured.
“I’m not sure,” Millie mused. “He glared at me pretty hard when I offered you my lipstick at that notorious gypsy party.”
“Yeah,” Bessie agreed, defeated. “He didn’t like my corset idea, either.”
“So he likes you natural,” Millie confirmed.
“Seems that way,” Bessie confessed.
“Well,” Judith huffed. “It’s only natural for you to want to change your hair, so he’ll get used to it. For instance, I’m thinking about giving up on the blonde, but am I concerned with how Isaac might feel about it? No.”
Bessie looked at Judith in horror. “You’re really serious about getting rid of the blonde?”
“Eh,” Judith scrunched her nose up and shrugged a shoulder. “I’m growing tired of the maintenance. Like I said, it’s a lot of work and a lot of chemicals to be this blonde.
Bessie grinned. “Well, when I go to New York City, I want to blend in with all the popular blondes. Nobody will walk past me anymore, they’ll stop and look! People will notice me! I’ve never had that before!”
Two mouths clamped shut and two pair of eyes, one pair blue and one pair brown, gaped at her. You could hear a pin drop in the room.
“New York City?” Millie clarified.
Bessie’s eyes darted from Millie’s to Judith’s like a deer in headlights. She’d said too much. “Oh, dear,” she said softly. “I suppose the cat’s out of the bag…”
“What cat and what bag?” Millie snapped.
Bessie’s heart pounded. She’d only told Joey because she knew it wouldn’t get back to her parents. With Millie and Judith knowing, that was more people with the knowledge, more opportunities for it to get out. And if her parents found out before Zac came home, Bessie was done for.
“Well?” Judith pressed. “We haven’t got all night.”
Finally, Bessie let out a breath. “I suppose I owe it to you to tell you. But my parents don’t know, so you have to promise not to breathe a single word!”
“When have we ever ratted to your parents?” Millie asked.
“Since I haven’t done anything worth ratting up until a couple of months ago,” Bessie muttered.
Judith shrugged a shoulder. “Fair point. But trust me, Bess, neither Millie or I are in the position to rat anyone out about anything. Now, spill it.”
Looking from her cousin to her friend, their eyes read curiosity and bewilderment, but neither pair read deceit. And, so, Bessie took a deep breath and clutched her hands together. “Zac telephoned me the other day. The boys have been signed to a…permanent theatre in New York. They have a two-week trial run and then…Zac is coming home to get me. I’m…moving to New York to be with him.”
There was a moment of silence before Millie exploded. “What? In two weeks? And your father doesn’t know? What do you expect to do, steal away in the middle of the night? You’ll never make it across the county line!”
Bessie lifted her chin in objection. “Yes, we will. Because Zac and I are going to tell them together. In person.”
“Exactly. And then your daddy is going to take that shotgun right off the wall and blast Zac to bits! He’ll never allow it!”
“Well, he’s going to have to,” Bessie argued. “Because I’m a grown woman now and I’m going to be with Zac whether my daddy likes it or not. And if he has to, he can blast me to bits right along with Zac because this time is the last time we’ll ever be separated again!”
Millie gaped at her younger cousin. “And what about school? Nowadays women have to be educated. Unless they marry rich. And Zac is certainly not rich.”
“As a matter of fact,” Bessie replied haughtily. “Zac said that he would be making so much money that he can send me to an art school in New York. So I’ll still go to school. Just not in dusty old Oklahoma.”
Amidst the testy exchange between the two cousins, neither one of them had taken a moment to notice that Judith hadn’t said a word. In fact, when Bessie finally glanced over at her, Judith was sitting on the edge of the bed and staring blankly into space.
“Judith?” Bessie asked. “Are you all right? Have the chemicals gotten to you?”
Judith’s head turned slowly and the shock on her face was startling. “They’re not coming home?” She whispered.
Regretfully, Bessie shook her head.
Slowly, still in a daze, Judith replied, “I wasn’t aware of that.”
“I think it happened very suddenly,” Bessie said gently. And then it hit her! Oh, poor Judith! She loved Isaac! And whether the two of them had been communicating, Bessie had no idea, but it was apparent that they hadn’t communicated since the decision had been made. “Oh, Judith. Maybe Isaac is planning to come for you, too? In fact, I’m sure he is. Don’t you think so?”
Finally, the color found Judith’s cheeks and she blinked her eyes. “Maybe this is for the best. Maybe he shouldn’t come home. New York will be better for him.” Then she lolled her head to the right and slapped the side of her neck, the kimono sleeve sliding up her arm. “Damn pesky mosquitos,” she muttered.
Bessie and Millie now stared at their friend in horror. Not because of the mosquito, however, but because of the skin they’d both gotten a glimpse of that wasn’t visible before. Bessie thought she might be sick with worry. Millie didn’t waste any time on the subject. “Judith, what’s happened to you?”
Judith’s big blue eyes stared up at her blankly, having been caught off guard. “What?”
Millie glared at her best friend and marched up to her, grabbed her by the wrist, and jerked her arm nearly out of the socket. The kimono sleeve slid further than before now, revealing a large, blue and magenta bruise that extended half the length of her bicep. It was nearly the same color as the abomination on her neck.
Bessie gasped in horror.
“The love bite on your neck is one thing,” Millie snapped. “But what is this? Who did this to you?”
Judith jerked her wrist out of Millie’s grasp just as quickly and made an effort to cover herself with her robe. “That is hardly a love bite, believe me,” she muttered.
“Then what is it?” Millie pressed.
“It’s nothing.”
“Judith Carter, if you don’t tell me what’s going on right this instant, then so help me, I will march straight to that lumber yard right now and pull your daddy off of his job—“
“No!” Judith’s eyes widened in fear. “Please, you can’t tell anyone! Not anyone!”
“Then you better come out with it.”
“No one can know. Not…not even you ladies. It’s safer for everyone that way.”
“Safe?” Bessie squeaked in shock.
“Please, let’s just drop it,” Judith plead.
“All right, I’ve had enough of this,” Millie announced authoritatively. “This entire month, we seem to have gone our separate ways. It’s like we’re all lost and on our own and we shouldn’t be. We’re best friends, we should be there for each other, always! And the distance stops tonight. Judith, I demand you spill your guts this instant. Bessie and I won’t tell a soul. Right, Bessie?”
Bessie shook her head in agreement. “Judith, I’m scared. Not of what you might have to say, but I’m scared for your safety. And the way you looked when you heard about Isaac…do those marks have anything to do with him?”
Judith’s blue doe eyes blinked before they brimmed with tears. Finally, her nose and her cheeks turned pink and she lifted her hand to sweep a tear from her eye. “You know Isaac worked at the speakeasy, don’t you? My cousin’s speakeasy?”
“Yes…” Millie pressed.
“Well when he worked there, I worked alongside him. He dealt poker games and I was his…assistant. When the boys left town, Ike made a deal with my cousin, Johnny, that I would take over Ike’s duties while he was gone. And my cousin accepted.” She paused for a breath of composure. “Except that as soon as the boys left town, Johnny went back on his deal. I don’t deal cards like Ike thinks I do. I perform…other services.”
Bessie’s heart pounded with fear.
“Judith, are you doing what I think you’re doing?” Millie gasped.
Finally, Judith broke down. “I have to,” she sobbed. “I have to because, if I don’t, he’ll hurt Ike! That’s the deal. I’m trapped and I can’t get out and I’ll do anything to keep him safe. I love him!”
“Your own cousin!” Millie exclaimed, astonished. “Your family! How dare he?”
“Nobody can know, please,” Judith begged. “Johnny says he even has eyes up in New York and all he has to do is say the word. I can’t let them hurt him, Millie!”
“Well you can’t keep doing…that.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“Sure you do,” Bessie said. “All you have to do is tell the police and have it shut down—“
“I can’t,” Judith shook her head rapidly. “He’ll know it was me that told. And then he’ll hurt Isaac. If I leave, he’ll hurt Isaac. If I tell Isaac, he’ll hurt Isaac. If I…if I do anything except for what I am told, he’ll hurt him. And besides, it doesn’t matter who we tell or what gets shut down. Because some of the most prominent people in Tulsa…” Her voice trailed off.
Bessie’s eyes widened. “Go into the speakeasy? Who? Anyone we know?”
“I’ll never tell,” Judith whispered. “Because they’ll hurt Isaac for sure. And they’ll throw me in jail faster than I can blink. I just have to…I’ll, um…” She relented and let out a breath. “It doesn’t even matter, anyway. I’m about to go back to school, anyway, so it’ll be over then. And Isaac isn’t coming back, anyway, and even if he was, he won’t want me once he finds out what I’ve been doing. I’m just…I’m surviving.”
“But that’s wrong!” Millie objected. “That’s—you’re being held hostage, you’re being r—oh, I can’t even say the word! What you’re doing isn’t surviving, it’s not…it’s not okay!”
“Can’t you just stop going?” Bessie asked.
“No. If I disappear, they’ll go after Isaac, looking for me. He won’t know a thing. Then they’ll hurt him for lying. I. Can’t. Move.”
“So you’re just going to continue to sell yourself,” Millie said.
“I’m not doing it because I like it!” Judith argued. “I hate it! I go home and vomit nearly every night! I’m ashamed of myself, I feel so dirty, there isn’t enough soap to scrub with! But Johnny, he—he knows people. He knows everyone. And with the type of men who walk in there at night, telling anyone isn’t going to make a difference. Like I said, all it will do is get Isaac hurt and me thrown in jail. I won’t risk it.”
“Oh, Judith,” Bessie whispered. “How did you get yourself into this?”
“It was only poker!” Judith burst into tears. “It was only card games and bets!”
As Bessie slid a sympathetic arm around Judith’s shoulders, Millie’s eyes lit up. “Fake sick!”
Judith sniffled and looked up at Millie. “What?”
Millie’s eyes were far off into space as she thought up her plan, her hands fidgeting together as she paced the room. “That’s it!” She continued. “All you have to do is fake sick! We have plenty of makeup to do it. We’ll redden your eyes and your nose…all you have to do is be convincing about it next time you go in. Tell your cousin you’re horribly sick and—oh, even better!—tell him you think you got something from someone at the speakeasy! He wouldn’t want his patrons getting…whatever you have, would he? Word would get around, it would affect his money. Of course, he’ll want you back when you get better, but what if you don’t get better? What if you have something like…influenza!”
Bessie’s eyes widened and she smiled. Millie was brilliant!
“I’d have to fake sick for weeks,” Judith hissed. “I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere in Tulsa!”
Millie arched an eyebrow. “Would you rather sit at home, bored, or keep getting used and abused every night?”
Judith’s jaw slackened and her eyes drifted between Millie’s and Bessie’s. “Do you think it would work?”
“I think it’s worth a shot for sure,” Millie encouraged her. “If he thinks you’re sick and he’s forced to send you home, he won’t have any reason to hurt Ike because you didn’t actually betray him. If anything, one of his customers screwed you over—or screwed him over, if you’re able to sway his mind that way. He’ll be forced to let you stay home—and there’s nothing he can do about it. His hands are tied!”
Bessie’s smile widened in excitement and she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around her cousin’s neck and squeeze the breath out of her. “It’s a brilliant idea! We’ll both help you. When do you go back?”
“Tomorrow night,” Judith replied.
“Excellent,” Millie hissed. “That gives us tonight and all day tomorrow to plan your…illness. Tomorrow night, Bessie and I are driving you downtown.” Millie’s smile grew. “And then we’re driving you straight back home.”
Finally, Judith smiled, fresh tears brimming her beautiful eyes. “Oh gosh, you guys. You’re simply the best. I wish I had thought of this a long time ago. I don’t know what I would do without you!”
A group hug followed, with both Judith and Millie nearly shoving Bessie away from them. Bessie looked offended until Judith coughed and blinked her eyes. “I think it’s time to get some heat on that hair.”
Bessie’s eyes brightened. “Will that help lighten it?”
“We’ll see after another hour. After I apply the heat, it has to sit again.”
Bessie frowned and slumped her shoulders in a pout as Judith plugged the dryer into the outlet and ran the heat over Bessie’s towel-covered head. Judith and Millie hadn’t been kidding about the aroma and Bessie found herself coughing, as well. After a few more minutes, Judith tightened the towel around Bessie’s hair and directed her attention to Millie. “There anything left in that flask?”
Letting out a breath, Millie passed the flask for her. “You’ll probably need it anyway. Because since we’re catching up and confessing and such, I might as well fill you in on what I’ve been up to.”
Bessie clamped her mouth tightly shut while Judith turned up the flask and then looked at her best friend with concern. “Well, don’t look so enthused.”
“Joey and I had sex. And then I broke up with him.”
Judith choked.
In fact, she choked and then she went into a coughing fit, and then Bessie had to slap her on the back while offering her the flask once more so the liquid could clear her throat.
After a moment, as the redness left Judith’s face, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and she gaped at Millie. “Queer boys can’t have sex with women, Millie!”
“Could you be any louder?” Bessie hissed.
Judith rolled her eyes and lowered her voice. “How did you manage that? Was he drunk? How was it?”
Lowering herself slowly onto the edge of the bed, Millie swept her raven hair off of her shoulder and replied solemnly, “It was the best sex of my life. We did it in Bessie’s barn.”
“Millie!” Bessie scolded.
“What?” She replied simply. “You had sex with Zac in that barn.”
“It’s my barn!”
“So how did you get him to do it?” Judith pressed, tossing herself eagerly onto the bed and leaning her torso forward as if she were straining to hear.
Millie shook her head. “I didn’t. He just did it. We had just been arguing—we had an encounter with Billy Connors and his cronies and they bullied us. And it upset Joey. And I think…in the heat of the moment, he just did it. And it was the best thing I ever felt…ever.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Judith mused. “He likes girls after all…”
“He doesn’t,” Millie confirmed. “It was very fast. He didn’t even look at me, he didn’t even really touch me. I think…I think he pretended I was someone else. If you know what I mean.”
Bessie couldn’t speak. She should. She should tell Millie that she already knew, that Joey had already confided in her. But what would it matter? What difference would it make now? So she chose to keep quiet and let Millie tell her story. Because according to Joey’s side of it, the way Millie felt was practically spot on.
“Oh, no,” Judith whispered regretfully.
“But I don’t want to be someone else,” Millie continued. “I want to be me. I want him to want me. I don’t want to be a substitute. And after we were through, he started acting all macho like he had something to prove, that he wasn’t that way, it was as if he had done it all to prove a point. And I deserve better. So I broke up with him. He likes boys. He will always like boys. Nothing will ever change that and that’s the reality.”
“But you liked him so much,” Judith said.
Millie nodded. “I still do. We haven’t spoken since, but…I hope someday it won’t be so awkward anymore. I had a good time while it lasted.”
“Well, I’m proud of you for being so strong,” Judith replied with a smile. “And that deserves another drink.”
“Is there anything else in that flask?” Bessie asked.
“No,” Judith replied with a sigh. “But I bet there’s lemonade in the refrigerator downstairs.”
At this, all three girls grinned at each other and they tiptoed quietly down the stairs, Bessie’s head smelling up the hallway all along the way. Bessie’s warm and fuzzy grin never left her face as the three of them huddled around the refrigerated unit in the kitchen. She would miss this. When she moved to New York City, she wouldn’t have sleepovers like this anymore. In fact, she wouldn’t know anyone but Zac. And the thought of being wrapped up in Zac’s arms every night warmed her heart, but part of her knew she would miss home terribly, especially because of nights like this.
Before she had an opportunity to get choked up, however, Millie scrunched up her nose and sneered at Bessie. “You reek, you know that? Those chemicals are so strong…it’s like there isn’t even any honey in it at all.”
She wasn’t kidding. Bessie was potent. And in reply, she turned up a corner of her mouth and said wryly, “Guess my daddy better not light his pipe anytime soon.”
And with that, the three girls screamed with laughter.
TAKING UP PERMANENT residency in a theatre was exhausting. Taking up permanent residency in one of Manhattan’s premiere theatres? It made one’s head spin from sun up to sun down.
Harvey Goldstein had wasted absolutely no time putting the brothers to work the very moment their contract went into effect. He had an entire schedule made out for them, all the way down to allotted meal times. Their days started at eight AM sharp and were chock full of radio spots, newspaper interviews, and photographs. When they weren’t advertising or eating, they were rehearsing—and Mr. Goldstein was there, breathing down their necks every step of the way.
Zac should have felt more appreciative than he did, that much he knew. This was his livelihood now. This was his and Bessie’s future. He should be spending the days with nothing less than a smile on his face and a skip in his step. But while Taylor was all about the photography and Isaac was all about the interviews, Zac was all about not being under the microscope of Harvey Goldstein. This was their act, after all. This was what they were hired for, right?
What was even more frustrating about it all was how willing Isaac and Taylor were to lay down and take it. Zac didn’t care what Mr. Goldstein thought of the colors of Isaac’s scarves or whether he felt like Taylor needed to have more interaction with the audience. They’d had this act down cold for years. It was foolproof.
And foolproof it certainly was, as it reflected in the ticket sales. For the first week, they performed in front of a packed house with standing room only. The applause was wild and the chanting for more was endless. After the shows, they were made to go into the lobby and greet the patrons and they were bombarded with compliments every night. Zac didn’t understand Mr. Goldstein’s need to keep such a scrupulous eye on everything because it obviously wasn’t necessary. The act was a hit. The Incredible Hansons had returned!
Sold out or not, however, it didn’t stop the meeting that Mr. Goldstein called in his office the following rainy Monday morning. Monday was the only day the brothers had off, according to their schedule, and the last place Zac wanted to be was in a meeting. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, anxiously awaiting the meeting’s start.
Mr. Goldstein’s office was stark and plain, an absolute world of difference from the rest of the theatre. It was surrounded by stiff, pale yellow walls, wooden picture frames full of credentials, and a fake plant in the corner. There was one window, the blinds half drawn, displaying a sliver of the marvelous view of brilliant red brick that made up the building next door. There was nothing warm or inviting about the room. Zac might as well have been standing in the doctor’s office. Or the police station.
Mr. Goldstein’s current expression certainly fit both scenarios.
As he examined the three brothers, never once inviting them to sit, he pulled the cigar from between his teeth and tapped the ashes into a glass tray. “Well, boys,” he finally began. “Over the weekend I included small survey in the programs that allowed the patrons to mark a few answers and drop into a box on their way out the door. We’re in the business of entertainment. We can’t rely on tickets to buy themselves. We have to connect with our audience and give them what they want. I figured since we’re on a trial run, I’d take a look-see at what we have to work with.”
“Our first week was excellent,” Taylor beamed.
Mr. Goldstein arched an unamused eyebrow.
“What sort of questions were on the survey?” Isaac asked.
Flipping open a file on his desk, Mr. Goldstein retrieved a stack of papers and distributed them amongst the three. “Read for yourself. It’s all right there.”
For the next few moments, the only sound that could be heard was the rustling of papers. Zac skimmed through his stack quickly. He saw the same words over and over: Tired. Boring. Same. Unimpressed.
This was bullshit. How did the brothers know that Goldstein, himself, didn’t fill all these out just to throw his weight around? And what theatre surveyed their patrons, anyway?
His eyes came up off the paper and he was just about to speak up when his eldest brother beat him to it. “This doesn’t make any sense,” Isaac protested. “This is bullshit. You signed us up for this. You convinced us that we’d be the next big thing here. What the hell is going on here, anyway?”
“I told you boys that this was a trial run,” Mr. Goldstein replied with a puff of his cigar. “The contract is for the trial run. And the run…looking a little bleak.”
“Bleak? That’s impossible!” Taylor argued. “Were we all witnessing the same crowds last week?”
“Curiosity,” Mr. Goldstein replied. “That’s all that was. Everyone wanted to see the brand new act at the Mahoney. Which is great if you can keep them interested. But the majority of those papers there say that these people most likely wouldn’t buy another ticket. And they may or may not refer their friends. ‘Maybe’ don’t work in this industry, boys. They either like you or they don’t. And the truth is, it’s looking like this little act isn’t going to withstand the test of time here at the Mahoney as originally intended.”
Zac was flabbergasted. What the hell was all this for, anyway? He could very well be happy and safe in Bessie’s arms right this very moment, but instead they’d been suckered into promises of a future. He’d even gotten Bessie worked up about it, making promises to her that he was guaranteed that he could keep. They’d been led to believe that a two-week trial run was a mere formality and that the future of their act was pretty much set in stone. Why, during their lunch hours, Zac was already scouring the newspapers for available apartments to bring Bessie home to in the week or two. How was this even happening?
As the brothers exchanged glances filled with mixtures of surprise and suspicion, Zac’s usual hot-tempered nature seemed to take a back seat all of a sudden—mostly due to the fact that Isaac’s face was so red that Zac was sure he would see smoke coming out of his ears at any given second. So he kept his mouth shut and let the group’s businessman do the talking.
“This is impossible,” Isaac argued. “There is no way that one measly stack of papers can speak for this entire city, I won’t accept it! We’ve hardly been given a fair chance here!”
"Let's face it, boys," Mr. Goldstein said, swiveling in his desk chair. "Vaudeville's dead. It's been dead for a long time. This past week was fun and all, but that act of yours ain't gonna hold a lot of water up here in the big city."
"I think the sold out crowds for the past three nights would beg to differ," Isaac countered.
"It's old news. They got their fix and now they're done. It was a fun little run, but now it's over. People want musicals now. Full stories with boisterous song and dance. They want them in the form of talking pictures and flamboyant stage shows. And you boys ain't got none of that. The truth of the matter is, the only thing you boys got holding your act together at all at this point is that one right there," he said, pointing his finger at Taylor, who stood in between his brothers. "He's the one with the face, he's the one all the ladies are paying to see."
Taylor's face turned red and he scoffed in annoyed denial, looking at his brothers. "But that's not what it's about..."
"That's hogwash and you know it," Zac spat at Mr. Goldstein. "We were the biggest thing in vaudeville, people came to see our act because we're good at what we do--"
"Come on, Zac. Do you really think people are that interested in seeing you do the same old boring tricks night after night?"
"When Houdini was alive, people flocked by the thousands--!"
"Because Houdini kept them interested. Are you risking your lives day after painstaking day in the name of art? No. You're doing tired old card tricks and pulling rabbits out of hats. People buy tickets to sleep in the cushioned seats. Your act is done for. It was done for a long time ago. Now, if you boys happen to have something a little different to offer me, I might be able to get you back on that stage out there. Because I like you boys and I want to help you. But you're gonna have to impress me. Because right now, as it stands, this one," he said, pointing listlessly at Taylor once more, "is the only one of you who has a shot at the big time here and I got several Broadway bigwigs knocking my door down to get to him."
"I have a name," Taylor muttered through his teeth.
"Yes, yes, of course you do."
"This is bullshit," Taylor spat, disgusted. Wiping the sweat from his upper lip, he turned around and walked out the door.
Zac and Isaac glanced at each other, neither one of them quite through with this meeting. "If you'll just excuse us for a minute," Isaac said, attempting to save face.
"Certainly," Mr. Goldstein replied. "Take all the time you need."
Stepping out into the hallway, they witnessed Taylor as he paced in a rage back and forth. Upon sight of them, he wasted no time expressing his anger. "Is that all I am to everyone? Just a pretty face? Is that all I've ever been?"
"Of course not--" Zac started.
"You know, I could make a--a whole fucking elephant disappear in the blink of an eye! Is nobody looking at that? Or are all they all just waiting for me to bat an eyelash? Is that what my entire existence has been about?"
"We're in the entertainment industry, Tay. You know that it's about what you look like on some level. You heard him, Broadway's practically falling all over themselves to get to you. That's a pretty big deal."
"But who do they want, Ike? Do they want me or do they want my face? Do they even give a shit that I was solely responsible for changing a man's entire religion based on how good I mind-fucked him with that levitation act I managed to pull off on a whim on Coney Island? I put blood, sweat, and tears into my illusions because that is my art, not so I can sing and dance in some frilly fucking stage show! It's degrading!"
Suddenly, a light bulb went off in Zac's head. While he felt for his brother, and had felt for him for quite awhile now, he had just given him the most brilliant of ideas. His eyes widened and he looked at each of this brothers. "Do you guys want to keep this act together or not?" He asked.
Taylor and Isaac stopped talking and looked at him. "Well I'm sure as shit not going solo, I'll tell you that," Taylor retorted.
"Then I think we should sing," Zac whispered in thought.
Taylor and Isaac looked at him, dumbfounded for a moment. "Sing?" Isaac said. "Are--are you sure?"
Zac nodded, taking in a breath to calm himself at the thought. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm sure. You heard him, music is the next big thing. And--and we can sing. You know we can. And Ike has that guitar, we could incorporate that somehow. Yeah. I think we could do it. I think we have what it takes. We'll be back on top again in no time."
"Yeah, but--but, Zac, you hate to sing," Isaac said gently. "Every time we sing, you find some way to botch it up."
"But it's our last hope," he answered. "It's the last chance for our act. If we don't make it with our voices, then I'm afraid it's over for us. For good."
Taylor took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "It's not over for us. People want to be entertained all the time, we just have to find the right audience--"
Zac shook his head. "I'm tired, Tay. We've been chasing dead ends for so long. I think that if we don't make it this time, then I'm ready to wash my hands of this whole thing--"
"You don't know what you're saying right now," Taylor argued.
"Yeah, Tay, I do. Look, I'm--I'm twenty-six years old. I got a good woman waiting for me back home that I want to marry someday and I think I'm just ready to settle down. Tulsa's my home. I just--I think I just want to go home and get on with my life."
"So you just want to give up on us," Taylor spat, his anger rising again. "And go home to what? You have nothing to go home to, Zac!"
Now Zac's patience was wearing thin and his heart started to pound with his change in mood. "Are you serious? I have everything to go home to. My entire life is back home--"
"Your entire life is here! In this room! With us! Blood! You really think she's gonna be there when you get home? Do you really want to go home and watch her turn around and leave you in the fall so she can go to Oklahoma City and hook up with some football jock? All you did was prime her, Zac. You just primed her for the taking."
"You watch your mouth," Zac threatened through gritted teeth. "You have no idea what you're talking about, she loves me."
"Sure, she loved you for the summer. She never knew any other men before you. You think she's not gonna go off to school and get curious? And then what will you have? Nothing. Nothing, when you could be here, making hundreds, even thousands, on top of the world, while she's on her back underneath the entire University of Oklahoma football team."
Zac's face grew burning hot. He'd never known rage like this before, not even when he put Billy Connors on the ground. The part he tried to push out of his mind, however, was the off chance that Taylor could possibly be right and that Zac could very well lose Bessie once she went off to school. The truth was, he'd thought about that at least once a day every day since he'd met her--but he'd never heard it out loud before.
"I reserve the right to do with my life what I want to do with it," Zac said darkly in a desperate attempt to cool his rising temper. "I'm the one who just suggested we sing, which is something you know I can barely handle. I'm willing to sing for you. For us. For this act. I want this as much as the both of you do, you know I always have."
"Right," Taylor sneered. "You want it so bad that you're ready to take the next train out to the first virgin pussy you sink your dick into. I should have known you'd flake out. I should have realized you were whipped when you took that licking from those high school guys and didn't end up in jail over it. That little piece of tail has turned you soft. She's ruined you, she's ruined us all! Go ahead. Leave. But when she fucks around on you, don't you dare come crying to me!"
And that was when Zac snapped. He flew across the room in an instant and had Taylor by the throat against the wall so fast, Isaac didn't even have time to cross the room to stop him. Taylor's face was turning red quickly, but Zac's rage got the better of him. "I told you to watch your mouth, I'll kill you right now, with my bare hands! I swear to God, I'll kill you!"
"Then do it!" Taylor choked out. "Do it right now, I’m begging for it! Dear Lord in Heaven, I think it’s finally gonna happen!"
This comment startled Zac and his eyes widened, his rage subsiding just as quickly as it came on. Releasing his brother, he took a staggered step back as Taylor coughed and gasped for air. "You didn't mean that," Zac whispered. He knew Taylor was having a few personal issues, but he had no idea that they went this deep. He had no idea he was quite this depressed. How could he want to wish something like that for himself?
As Taylor recovered, he looked at both of his brothers. "You guys don't understand. You don't--you just don't. I have--I have nothing to live for. Not like you guys do. Ike's got his--his poker and his mechanics skills. Zac, you've got Bessie and the feed store and--and plans for your future. And where does that leave me? I've spent my life used by women, used by vaudeville, and now used by New York City. My entire career has been nothing but a sham, but yet--yet, this life is all I have. Without this act, I have nothing to live for. Nothing."
"Tay, that's not true," Isaac said. "This is crazy talk, this is--if Zac and I had only half the talent that you had, we'd be downright dangerous. Do you know that? You're a good person, Tay, you're--well, you're everything I wish I could be. I might be your older brother, but I look up to you. I respect the hell out of you. You're the whole package. You're the looks, the talent, and you've got the heart of gold and the intelligence to boot. Mr. Goldstein is right about that, you carry this act, you've always carried this act. I just wish you believed in yourself as much as Zac and I believe in you."
"And what about Aishe?" Zac asked. "Aishe would just be devastated if you weren't here anymore. And--and so would Bessie. As much as it grates on my nerves, she thinks you're the greatest thing since sliced bread."
"Look, I'm sorry about what I said about her. Okay? I didn't mean it, I didn't mean any of it, I was just--I was upset. Okay? Please don't tell her I said any of those horrible things, I swear I didn't mean it."
"I know," Zac nodded.
"Do you really think Aishe would miss me?" Taylor asked, vulnerable and unsure.
"Absolutely," Isaac smiled. "I mean, hell, she agreed to marry your crazy ass, didn't she? How could you say you have nothing to live for? You have her. Live for her. She loves you. How could you--how could you forget?"
Taylor looked at him, helpless. "I--I didn't forget, I--she's--she's everything and I miss her and--and if we made it big again, it would be really good for us. I could support her, I could...get her grandmother to a doctor and her brothers, I--I want to be a good husband. I don't want her to regret marrying me and I don't want to come home after this long with nothing to show for it. For the first time in my life, I mean something to someone. And I like the way that feels. And it scares the hell out of me to know that that might go away. Sometimes I feel like--like I'm drowning and I just can't swim my way back to the top. Like I'm anchored to the ocean floor and the key lay in the sand just out of my reach."
"I think we're all at fault here," Isaac said, resting his hands on his hips. "I think we could have been better brothers to each other. When we were famous we were going our separate ways, running wild all over the place. When we ended up living in the trailer we went our separate ways just trying to make ends meet. We're living three different lives right now and it feels like we're losing sight of what family really means. We might not have Mom and Dad or the farm anymore, but we still have each other. And neither of us should ever feel like we don't want to be on this earth anymore. You know?"
"We should be supporting each other, not fighting," Zac agreed.
"So...what do we do now?" Taylor asked. "This is lovely and all, but I still think our act deserves another chance."
"I, uh, I agree," Isaac said.
Then both brothers looked at Zac.
Taking a deep breath, Zac nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. "I say we sing."
"We sing!" Taylor and Isaac smiled in unison.
And then the three brothers turned around and walked back into Mr. Goldstein's office.