Half-Blood Blues (16 page)

He lowered his face. I known then he ain’t said what it was.

‘If it that important,’ I said, ‘get Delilah to fetch it. She goin out still. Or if it too embarrassin for a jane to see, hell, there still old Ernst. What the problem?’

Paul was nodding slow-like, but his eyes was tense, unconvinced. I ain’t asked why not go for it hisself, blond and blue-eyed like he is. It was fear. I known that. I wasn’t sure why Paul was talking bout it and then it struck me.

‘Hell,’ I said. ‘You want
me
to go for it? You want me to go, I go. Just tell me what I lookin for.’

Paul’s face lit up with relief. But just as quickly he fell to brooding. Slowly he begun shaking his head. ‘Naw, Sid. I can’t ask you to go out there.’ But he set a unsteady hand on my shoulder, looked at me a long time.

‘Then ask Delilah. She ain’t goin mind stoppin in at the flat.’ But I known by the set of his mouth, the way it slunk back at its corners, he wouldn’t never ask her. Paul got this iron core. Ain’t much ever move it. ‘You reckon her coat do the trick?’ I said impulsively. ‘That it ain’t too flimsy? It kind of cold in here.’

Paul shook his head like to clear it. ‘What?’

The kid was still squawking up and down them scales. Jesus hell.

‘Delilah’s coat,’ I said. ‘You reckon it warm enough for her? She come from Paris in the summer and all. It look a little flimsy to me. She got to be freezin in here.’

Paul’s shoulders was slumped. ‘I don’t know. I guess. Who couldn’t use a new coat?’

I nodded firmly. ‘I been thinkin that too.’

All a sudden Hiero, up there on the boards, twist into a hopping melody so fresh I ain’t recognized it. Naw, I
did
know it:
Empty Bed Blues
. He was playing
Empty Bed Blues
, but doing it so coy it ain’t sound nothing like itself. It come out flirty, girlish almost, and he left small gaps where a singer’s voice should be.

Delilah looked surprised, charmed, her lips half open. She took a few lazy steps forward on her small bare feet. Staring up at Hiero, she raised her arms, hitching her shoulders to her ears.

‘When my bed get empty, make me feel awful mean and blue,’
she wailed.
‘When my bed get empty, make me feel awful mean and blue. My springs are gettin rusty, sleepin single like I do.’

Paul smiled over at me.

Holy sweet hell. Her voice thrummed like a muscle. It was low and rich, with the quiver of something mustering its strength.
‘When you get good lovin, never go and spread the news. Yes, he’ll double-cross you, and leave you with them empty bed blues.’

She swung the thick, strong rope of her voice round the words, coming down hard on them, cinching them together. Then she flung the notes bold up in the air, high and horn-like. But her voice was at its core a sailor’s voice, rough and mannish. Her low notes bitter croaks, filled with muddy regret.

Hearing them like that, Delilah and the kid, I got filled with this weird energy, this strange aimless feeling. It wasn’t the czech. I mean, it wasn’t
only
the czech. I felt puckered, dry in the throat, the juices sucked out of me. Then the kid lowered his horn, smiled at her shyly. And she stood there, looking at him, filled with a exquisite radiance. I thought,
Ain’t no way I able to give her that. No way.

Then I felt someone’s eyes on me, and turned. Chip stood across the dance floor, staring me down hard. He give me a dark look, shook his head.

The damn ceiling was spinning. Paul’s hand was at my shoulder.

‘Man, you’re really loaded.’ He grinned.

‘Like a rifle,’ I mumbled.

The next evening we was still drunk.

Now Delilah, she a right bone-grinder. For
real
. Ain’t none of us prepared for her odd flattery, her strings of teasing insults, or for the careless, distracted way she offer up her opinions. Not to mention the mysterious ending to her conversations, her sometimes just standing up mid-sentence and walking away. It intrigued a jack. Never mind what Chip protested, all his talk of her being a chunk of lead, boring as black pepper – I seen it in
all
their faces, the way they turned at a opening door, hoping it might be her.

So when Chip come up onstage, staggering just a little, and start fussing with his drumkit, I known he was watching Delilah with at least half a eye.

‘You don’t sing half as bad as I figured,’ Chip smiled. ‘Yesterday night.’

‘Why, Charlie, you’ll make me blush.’

‘Charlie a name for
horses
,’ Chip grunted. Then he belched, smiled proudly.

Ernst come onstage carrying his licorice stick. ‘Chip, you’re a real gentleman. A real class act.’ He was in his shirtsleeves, his tie in a loose knot. ‘Anyone heard anything from Fritz? Anything?’

The kid shrugged.

Delilah was leaning against the exposed brick, thumbing the top button of her dress, a faint smile on her lips. Hell. I known nothing sexy was meant by it, she wasn’t doing it to be seductive. I ain’t got no excuse. But when she turned suddenly, seen me standing there at the edge of the dance floor, I dropped my eyes and my face gone hot.

‘Hiya, Sid,’ she said.

‘Delilah,’ I said, trying to sound sober. Studying the tips of my two-tones, like there was a spot on them needed shining.

She laughed, lowering her hand.

I seen something dark and muscled move out from the wings, cross under the kit where Chip was leaning, slip fast behind the piano, and move toward Delilah. Holy hell, that one damn big rat. I waved an arm, called out sharply to warn her. ‘
Delilah!
’

Everyone froze, staring at me like I was off my nut.

That dark furred thing wound itself through Delilah’s shins, and she crouched down, her dress all rising up her thighs. Still looking at me, she lift it into her arms. It started mewling in a high, spiteful tone. Hell. It was a
cat
.

‘Somebody been drinkin
somethin
,’ said Chip in a stage whisper.

Paul tipped his thumb over his open mouth, like he pouring out a bottle.

‘Hide all you aftershave,’ said Chip.

My whole damn body flushed.

It was a shaggy, wild-eyed, crazy-looking cat. A majestic ruff of black and white fur crowned its shoulders. Delilah lift that rank thing into the air, stare into its eyes. ‘Hiya Lilah,’ she murmured. ‘How are you? How are you?’ She give a soft, choppy laugh.

‘It a cat,’ I said, astonished.

‘Well, she swears it is,’ Paul smiled. ‘I’m not convinced.’ He tripped over a cord, started laughing.

I shook my head. ‘Holy hell. Where that nasty thing come from?’

‘Paris,’ said Chip. ‘Though she claim she from Montreal originally.’

‘Be nice,’ Ernst said in English.

Delilah looked up at that. ‘You boys better not be making fun of her.’ Her smile was fierce. ‘She’s a warrior cat. Aren’t you, sweetie?’

‘Dame Delilah the Second?’ Chip laughed. ‘She only eats things smaller than her. Hiero better watch out.’

‘Dame Delilah?’ I said. ‘It from the wall?’

The cat squealed and writhed out from Delilah’s grip, landed softly. Everyone laughed. My face flushed harder, and I thought, hell, ain’t no one else look surprised by this. Like they all already known it.

That cat scampered over to Chip, jumped up on his lap. He stood with a clatter, dumping it onto the floorboards.

‘It likes you, Charlie,’ Delilah laughed.

‘
Chip
, sister. Hell.’

But the cat was purring and weaving its way through the drumkit, rubbing up against old Chip’s ankles. ‘Come and get this filthy thing away from me,’ Chip barked. ‘It got to be
diseased
.’

‘If it’s attracted to
you
,’ said Delilah.

Ernst laughed.

But Chip, he just give me a sour look. His eyes roved slowly over to one corner, and then he shook his head.

The kid. Hiero stood at the edge of the wings, a damn radiance in his face.

So he done it. He give her the cat. Hell. I ain’t able to figure it, what it was between those two. He so young.

I felt uneasy, weakly determined. Ain’t no way a jack compete with that. No way. But he got to
try
, at least. I thought of Paul’s advice.

Delilah sat on the edge of the stage, folding one long leg over the other, keying open a tin of sardines. Now where the hell that tin come from? Dame Delilah the Second drop down off Chip’s kit, come running over.

‘Sid?’ Ernst called down. ‘You joining us?’

I just give him a weak smile. I walked in a weaving path, holding onto the stage with one hand, trying to hide my drunkenness. I wet my lips. I ain’t figured out what to say yet.

Delilah glanced at me as I come up. ‘Sid?’ She sounded alarmed. ‘You feeling alright?’

Her bare feet was dangling loose in front of me. I glanced up. Sound of my name on her lips brought a lazy smile out of me. ‘I feelin good,’ I said, thinking my voice rang a bit shallow. I cleared my throat, deepened it a register. ‘I feelin good.’ There, that was better. Then, remembering what all I meant to say, I tried to make my face solemn. ‘But I worry bout you.’

She give a vague smile, glanced nervously round. ‘Me? Why?’

‘You must be cold.’ My words sat like a wad of wet rags in my mouth.

She frowned. ‘It’s
summer
, Sid. I’m okay.’

In the dim pit of my hooch-soaked brain, I tried to puzzle out what she meant. No, I known what she meant, but I couldn’t think of no clearer way to start. I mean, to make it acceptable to a dame’s ears, in high-hat language, not in that gutter-talk we all rattle off in our sleep.

‘Ain’t you a little frigid?’ I tried.

Sensing even as I said it that it ain’t quite right.

I heard a sharp laugh from the stage. Shaking, Chip leaned over to the others and uttered something. Muffled laughter rang out, everyone staring my way. Even Hiero laughed his high, hiccuping laugh. I felt a twinge of panic through my daze. My brain just wasn’t on the trolley, brother.

I glanced desperately at Delilah. Her face had gone savagely red.

Feeling my moment slipping away, I blurted, ‘I want you to have my coat, Delilah.’ I made to take it off, to give it to the girl. But the czech, hell. My rubber arms got all tangled in the sleeves, and I stood there swaying with one shoulder forced awkwardly back, making short, violent jerking movements to free myself, like I the biggest damn ass ever to grace the green earth.

I started to laugh. It was a weird, panicked laugh, and even as I was laughing I was thinking to myself,
Sid, what you doin, fool? Stop it. Stop it.

‘Sid?’ Delilah said, puzzled. ‘Sid, are you okay?’

Chip almost fell off his damn stool, cackling that hard. The kid was holding his sides, gasping and gasping. I just ain’t able to extricate myself. Then I felt a cool hand on my shoulder, turning me: Delilah, hauling my old arm back into my sleeve.

‘I just tryin a give you somethin,’ I said thickly.

‘You sure is, buck,’ Chip called out.

Oh, girl. She was practically
green
-faced, she so embarrassed. ‘I appreciate your concern, Sid,’ she said with real dignity. ‘I’m not cold. But thank you.’

And gathering up her own coat and her calfskin gloves and her tin of fish and her foul flea-ridden cat, she nodded to the gents, giving Ernst a longer, more polite nod, and left the stage.

I stood there, feeling a vague shame drift through me. And by vague I mean like a wall of water smashing into a village, obliterating everything. I got this weak sense of nothing, filled with numbness, like everything round me was taking place underwater.

Hell, those jacks was laughing and laughing like to wet themselves. Even Ernst had a smile on his face, shaking his head like he ain’t believed what he just seen.

‘Aw, Sid,’ Chip gasped. ‘Holy hell, Sid, you priceless.’

‘Alright, ease up now,’ said Ernst. But his eyes was still damp with tears of laughter. ‘Where’s Fritz? Anyone heard from him?’

‘Do we still got to play if Delilah ain’t here?’ said Chip.

I start to leave the dance floor but my old legs just wasn’t working. I thrown myself down at one of the tables in front of the footlights.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Ernst. ‘How much have you gents had to drink?’

Paul looked suddenly serious. ‘Not very much,’ he articulated carefully.

Then Chip’s foot banged the bass drum. He give a start, looking down at it like it done it of its own volition. Then he looked at Paul and snorted.

And then they was both laughing their old heads off again.

I felt sick with embarrassment. All I heard banging bout in my old skull was Hiero’s damn hiccuping laugh. The bastard.

They was playing a sloppy set, Paul missing his cues with a big grin at each nod from Ernst. Chip, drunk though he was, sounded tight as ever, brushing them old skins with real ease. I sat a long time at that table, feeling sick. Then I got to my feet, stumbled backstage.

She was just leaving the green room as I come down the steps, through the sound doors. Seeing it was me, her smile weaken a little. But she ain’t slapped my face or scowl or nothing, which I took for a good sign.

‘Listen, you got to excuse me on account of earlier,’ I said, clutching my hat hard before me in both hands. My arms was trembling a little and I tried to hide it by moving them. ‘I wasn’t in my right mind. I ain’t meant what I said. If—’

‘If he really thought you were frigid, he wouldn’t still be trying to get under your dress,’ said Paul, strolling out of nowhere. He tipped his hat at us and kept going.

Oh, the silence. A jack could grind his teeth on it. I stood there swallowing hard, not knowing where to look. Only thinking,
Don’t you damn well meet her eye.
I lowered my gaze, but realizing my eyes was level with her breasts, I flinched and glanced up again.

She look damn uncomfortable. She was smiling so hard I thought maybe her face going to break.

I cleared my throat. ‘I got to ask Ernst bout somethin. I just remembered it.’