Chloe (9 page)
Minnie patted her arm. “You gone be all right. You smart an’ pretty an’ you married to a soldier. Nobody gone mess with you.”
Chloe felt suddenly determined to put her sorrow away and help her friend. Taking a breath, she nodded firmly. “You’re right, Minnie. I’m going to be fine. And so are you. Now, let’s go find you a job.” And with that, they were running down the steps of the subway station and buying tickets at the booth.
At the first agency, the woman looked at them forbiddingly and asked Minnie to fill out a card. Chloe also sat down and wrote a letter of reference to be put on file. When Minnie gave her filled-out card to the woman, she surprised Chloe by saying, “Ma’am, I only wants a position with someone in the theater or music. An actress or someone like that.”
The agency woman looked up at her. “We don’t get too many of
that
type of client.”
“Well, that’s what I want,” Minnie said with a decided nod.
“You won’t take a position in a family unless it’s connected to the theater?” The woman studied Minnie with her face drawn into a frown.
“Or music, vaudeville, movies,” Minnie explained. “Anythin’ like that.”
“Very well.” The woman’s lips pinched together like the end of a lemon. “Good day.”
Minnie and Chloe walked out together and got into the small, brass-trimmed elevator. Chloe waited till they reached the pavement, where cars and taxis in an unbroken line blared their horns. “Minnie, I never! What are you thinking?”
“I got plans, Miss Chloe.” Minnie walked with her chin held high and her back straight as a pine.
“I see you do.” Chloe hurried to keep up with Minnie’s snappy pace. The discordant car horns made her wince. “What are they?”
Minnie didn’t reply until they turned a corner and left the noisy cars behind. “I don’t want to be a maid all my life,” the girl said at last.
“You don’t?” The idea of a person of color being anything but a servant or sharecropper came as a novel idea to Chloe. “What do you want to do?”
“I think . . .” Minnie walked a bit farther in silence. “I think I kin be an actress in the movies.”
Chloe couldn’t stop herself. She laughed out loud. Minnie might have just as well said, “I want to be elected president.” She gazed at her companion with rising curiosity. “But, Minnie, there aren’t any Negroes in motion pictures.”
“I don’t know ’bout that, and I think that gone change. They can’t do black-face forever; it don’t look real.” Minnie looked determined, her jaw firm and her voice strong. “And anyway, they do hire black actors and actresses for the theater and sometimes a colored person can do a vaudeville act. I’ll find somethin’ to suit me.”
“But how will being the maid of an actress help you?” This conversation held a distinct quality of unreality. Were they really talking about Minnie being an actress?
“I figure I work for people who in show business, I can learn how to get to be an actress.”
Minnie’s incredible ambition exploded in Chloe’s mind like shimmering fireworks, stunning her to silence. Minnie, her maid, wanted to be in moving pictures like Lillian Gish. She watched Minnie from the corner of her eye as they continued down the busy sidewalk. Then, looking around at the towering buildings and the hurrying city people and all that made this place a different world from the one she knew, Chloe realized,
Why not?
“Minnie, that’s about the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard.”
Looking suspicious, Minnie glanced at her. “You think I’m crazy.”
“No, I don’t.” Chloe shook her head with emphasis. “This past Christmas I would never have believed that by spring, I’d be married and living free in New York City. If I can get away from Ivy Manor and marry the man I love, you can have your plans, too. And what’s more, I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
Minnie stopped and made eye contact with her then as if checking Chloe’s true opinion one more time. Then she grinned. “We gone have new lives, Miss Chloe. You wait and see.”
“I’m a believer today.” Chloe laughed again. “Let’s see that agency address again.” Even if Minnie never got to be an actress, surely being the maid to one could only be more interesting than a humdrum family.
At the second agency, they carried out the same routine and were met with a similar response, except that this woman suggested Minnie apply at an agency near the theater district. She gave them its name and address and they set off at a brisk pace. Chloe felt more hopeful with each step. Another subway ride, and Chloe and Minnie entered another imposing brick building. Chloe paused outside the door of this agency and said a quick prayer for Minnie.
Minnie whispered her own affirmation. “Come on, Jesus. I got to have a job soon.” She pushed open the door and Chloe and she entered. This agency looked a bit busier. All the chairs were filled and people milled around in front of the reception desk. While Chloe stood to the side Minnie approached the desk and asked to apply for a position.
“You—” A man’s imperious voice suddenly cut across the crowded office, causing Minnie, Chloe, and several other people to turn. He gave Chloe an imperious motion. “You, the blonde, walk toward me. Please.” He snapped his fingers.
Chloe nearly gave a tart reply, but then, curious, she looked the man in the face. There was something in his eyes that intrigued her. Or perhaps it was the slightly continental accent he had and his well-tailored brown suit. She walked toward him.
“Turn,” he ordered, “and walk to the door again.”
With a raised eyebrow, Chloe obeyed, feeling everyone in the room’s attention on her. But she was used to being on display and this man sounded like he had a reason. When she turned again, the man was beaming at her. He immediately strode over and handed her a gilt-edged card.
“You’re just what I’m looking for.” He nodded as he took her hand, ignoring her surprised look. “A friend of mine is a couturier, just come over from Paris, and I’m helping her open a shop on Fifth Avenue. We need one blonde and one brunette model.”
Chloe tried to say something but her mouth wouldn’t work. The man didn’t seem to notice. He turned to the secretary at the desk. “This is the girl I want. Get her information and then give her the address.” He looked at Chloe again and smiled. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, then, at nine.” He bowed over her hand and walked out.
Chloe stood there, still without a word to say.
“Miss Chloe, this be so excitin’,” Minnie breathed into her ear. “You’re gone be a model on Fifth Avenue. That’s where all the swanky shops are.”
“But, Minnie! I didn’t come here to get myself a job. I came to get
you
a job.”
“Don’ you worry ’bout me. I’ll get my job, too. Now don’ you pass this up, Miss Chloe.”
Chloe listened to the buzz of voices as everyone, heads together, whispered about her and her new job. Everyone stared at her.
Could I really do it?
The secretary stood up. “Please come to the desk, miss. I need you to fill out a card and I’ll give you the address of the couturier.”
Minnie gave Chloe a push. “Go on. We’ll both fill out cards this time.”
Chloe couldn’t resist the I-dare-you look in Minnie’s eyes. It was the same look that had gotten them spanked more than once as children, and suddenly it was wonderful to see. With a grin, she marched up to the desk.
T
he noisy, boisterous chatter in the café bounced off the brick walls of the tiny basement it occupied. Kitty had met them when they returned from the final employment agency and had invited them to Greenwich Village for a very late lunch. The surrounding hubbub only intensified Chloe’s agitation. It reminded her of when she was a little girl and how she’d loved to watch the wide-hipped cook at Ivy Manor fry griddle cakes. The part that had intrigued her the most was when the woman had sprinkled water on the hot grease to test it; Chloe had loved watching the droplets of water dance on the pan. That was how Chloe felt now—like the water beads hopping, sizzling.
She knew there was an unpleasant task she must do soon. When Theran had been with her, she had wanted to give him every moment. Every second with him had been so dear to her. But she had to contact her parents soon. She wouldn’t go back to Ivy Manor; maybe they wouldn’t even want her. But a good daughter didn’t just run away and never let her family know she was all right. The problem was in how she should contact them. Would Kitty know how to do it so it would leave no trail to lead them back to her? Also, she was bursting to tell Kitty everything that had happened that day—if she could believe it herself.
But behind all that, tears hovered ready to swoop down on her. Tonight, she’d sleep alone. Theran, her husband, was already beyond her reach. In two days, she’d left home, become his wife, discovered the mysteries of being married, and then waved and cheered him off to war. With a suddenly aching heart, she pressed a white-cotton-gloved hand to her mouth, holding back her sorrow, the one thing that seemed most real to her. She hadn’t realized parting from Theran would hurt so. It was a physical ache, nagging, worrying her.
She closed her eyes and drew in steady breaths until a careless waitress, reeking of some dreadful perfume, plopped cups of strong black coffee in front of the three of them and startled her. Bemused, she glanced around and realized she’d never seen such a bizarre combination of people in her life. Most looked as if they didn’t know how to use an iron or couldn’t afford to hire someone who did. The men wore all manner of beards. Shocking women lounged in chairs, obviously not wearing corsets, and showing off rouged lips and cheeks and bleached hair. One woman across from Chloe had cut her thick brown hair chin-length and was wearing men’s clothing! Chloe tried not to stare, but her eyes roved over the colorful, radical scene. “Who
are
these people?” she asked Kitty in a low, scandalized voice.
Kitty chuckled, lolling her head back and extending her arms wide. “These, my dear Chloe, are the
avant garde.
Bohemians.”
“What that mean?” Minnie asked. She wasn’t the only person of color in the café. In fact, even a few Oriental people were in evidence. But Minnie still didn’t look at ease. She kept jittering one of her heels, making her look like a Model-T just shuddering to a start.
“It means these are painters, sculptors, journalists, philosophers, writers, actors.” Kitty waved her hands around like a magician’s assistant and slouched back farther into her chair, sitting like no lady ever should. “In short, my sweets, the most interesting people you’ll ever meet.”
“Meet?” Chloe echoed. “Do you
know
some of these people?” The idea outright floored her. Greenwich Village seemed unreal.
“I know some of these people, yes,” Kitty said with airy aplomb.
“Actors?” Minnie asked, glancing around, still jittering. “Do you know any actors, Miss Kitty?”
Kitty raised one quizzical eyebrow.
“Minnie wants to find a position as a maid for someone in show business,” Chloe explained without giving away all Minnie’s plans.
“You want to work for actors?” Kitty looked Minnie up and down as though she hadn’t known the girl ever since they were all children together.
“Yes, Miss Kitty,” Minnie said, gazing around. “I want to work for somebody in show bizness.”
Kitty looked thoughtful. “Why?”
Minnie looked around the room, assumedly still trying to pick out any actors. “’Cause,” she declared, stopping the jumping heel, “I want to be an actress.”
“How thrilling!” Kitty crowed. “Have you ever acted?”
“Not on the stage or anythin’ like that.” Minnie glanced away.
Chloe studied the darker girl’s profile. She suddenly realized Minnie had probably been acting out a part for many years—that of the dutiful Negro maid. No wonder she was determined to do something else.
Chloe thought of the two very different roles she herself had been forced to play—cooperative daughter for her political father and society debutante for her mother.
I don’t have to lie anymore.
It was as if a load had been lifted from her shoulders. Theran had done this for her, freed her. Theran, who was gone and who knew for how long. She felt momentarily hollow.
“Miss Chloe, you gone tell Miss Kitty ’bout your new job?” Minnie propped an elbow on the table, looking more at ease now, her shoulders relaxed, her cheek on her hand.
Kitty leaned over the table toward Chloe. “Job?
You?
”
Stung by Kitty’s disbelieving tone, Chloe flushed, wishing Minnie hadn’t revealed this. Kitty would tease her forever about it. “I’ve been offered a position as model at a couturier on Fifth Avenue. But of course I won’t be accepting it.”
“Fifth Avenue?” Kitty’s eyes widened. “Which one?”
“I . . .” Chloe faltered and then opened her bag and took out the ivory card the man had given her. “The man who spoke to me was Marshfield Crowe,” she read from the card and then handed it to Kitty. “He said he was helping a new couturier from Paris set up shop here.”
“He said he needed,” Minnie added, “one blonde and one brunette model. He pick Miss Chloe right out of a room full a pretty ladies.” Minnie looked pleased as anything.
Chloe couldn’t stop her face from warming.
“Well,” Kitty handed back the card, “you’re gorgeous—according to your husband. And so tall and willowy. I wish I had your inches. Oh, I’d love to see the expression on your mama’s face if she knew you were
working
.”
“I’m not modeling.” After all the years she’d been put on display, she hated people looking at her. “Besides I’m a married woman.”
Kitty smiled, almost gleaming with impish amusement at Chloe. “I almost forgot! Roarke called me and described the fit your daddy threw in our dining room yesterday morning.”
“Your dining room?” Chloe put Mr. Crowe’s card carefully away in her small purse.
“Yes, I guess your daddy came over Saturday very late and then Sunday morning to find out if you’d come back with Roarke. He thought you and Roarke had run off and eloped. ’Course my daddy didn’t know what had happened, but knowing you were with Roarke, he thought that, too. Anyway, Roarke told him you’d married Theran and that he’d acted as Theran’s best man.”