Ice (6 page)

I was hoping it was over. Mama would stop asking questions and eventually the whole thing would fade away, but almost as soon as I entered the kitchen the next morning for breakfast, she was on me again. Daddy was still in bed.

"What kind of a dinner did you have? Was it expensive? I bet you had something to drink, huh? I bet they didn't even ask you for identification. Well?"

"Shawn ordered me a gin and tonic, and no one asked me to show them any identification. but I didn't drink any of it," I told her. I was still traveling on the truth.

"Men like to ply you with liquor, so they can soften you up a bit. It's no harm done as long as you play your cards right. I always pretended to be tipsy, but I always knew what was going on around me. The rest of them drank plenty, huh?"

"You and Shawn just staved at the Kit-Kat all evening?"
"Yes," I said. but I looked away too soon. "He wanted to take you somewhere else?" I nodded.
"Where? Damn, girl, why do I have to pull

every word out of you? Why don't you just tell me the whole stow at once? You ever say two sentences together?"

"He wanted me to go to one of their houses for a party, but I saidno."
"That so? Well, that's all right. He should respect you more for that. It was only your first date, after all. You did right. I'm sure he understands. He did, didn't he?" she asked.
Just as I was about to burst and tell her all of it, the phone rang. We both looked at it. Mama smiled and I picked up the receiver.
"Hi," I said with enthusiasm after I heard who it was.
"That Shawn?" Mama whispered, hovering over me.
I turned my back without answering. It wasn't Shawn: it was Balwin, "No, it's all right. We're up," I told him.
"I got a phone call just five minutes ago," he said, his voice rife with excitement. "from Barry Jones. They just got in from the evening. After the Kit-Kat Club, they go to another hip jazz joint and play until morning. Then they go for breakfast and after that, go home and sleep all day."
"What a life," I said.
"Musical vampires. Anyway, he wanted to call me before he forgot. He was impressed with you."
"Really'?"
"Yeah, but someone else was, too, someone named Edmond Senetsky, an entertainment agent from New York who was there with a client, sitting in the back of the club. He heard you sing and asked Barry about you and Barry told him he didn't know you, but he knew someone who did. That was me, of course."
"Well. what does he want?"
"Barry said he told him that you should audition for his mother's performing arts school in New York."
"New York?"
"What about New York?" Mama asked from behind me. "He wants to take you to New York?"
I shook my head.
"Yes," Balwin said, "He said you should prepare a couple of numbers for the audition and he gave Barry his card for you to call to get the details. Barry read the telephone numbers to me. You want me to give them to you now?"
"No." I said emphatically.
"Why are you saying no? You can go," Mama coached from the sidelines, Again. I shook my head.
"Well, should I come over later with it? This is a big opportunity for you. Ice. At least. Barry thought so and he knows. I heard of this school too. If I wasn't already going to Juilliard. I might be considering it."
"Let me think about it."
"Sure. I'm home all day today. I don't know if I ever told you. But I've been composing songs. My parents got me a piano and put it in the basement. It's nothing like a studio. but I can record quietly and no one bothers me down there. Boy. I'd love to have you try one of my songs." he said.
"Okay, thanks."
"I'm going to call Mr. Glenn to see what he knows about this school in New York," Balwin said, referring to our vocal instructor. "We'll get his opinion about it all."
"Right," I said. "Bye."
"Call me as soon as you can." he said quickly and I hung up.
"What was that all about?" Mama pounced.
I stood there, staring at the phone for a moment and then I turned to face her.
"It wasn't Shawn Carter, Mama. It was Balwin Noble."
"Who's Balwin Noble?"
"He's a boy at school, the one who plays piano accompaniments for our chorus. He's that good." I emphasized, but she didn't look impressed.
"So? What's he want? What was that about New York?"
"He was at the Kit-Kat Club last night when I was there with Shawn," I began.
"Who was?" I heard Daddy say as he came through the kitchen doorway. He scrubbed his hair with his dry hands, yawned and stretched and looked at us. "What's up, you two? You make so much noise, a dead man couldn't sleep."
"If we lived somewhere where the walls weren't made out of cellophane, we could have a conversation without waking each other up in here," Mama retorted.
"Well, what's all the talk?"
"I was just asking about her date, that's all." Mama said. "Oh, that again," he said. He went for a cup of coffee.
"Yes, that again. Then there was this phone call for Ice and I'm asking about that now. Is all this okay with you or do I need special permission to talk to my own daughter?"
Daddy didn't respond. He drank some coffee and began to prepare himself some eggs. He made omelets better than Mama. but I was afraid ever to say so.
"You eat yet?" he asked me. I shook my head. "Lena, you want an omelet. too?"
"No. I don't want any omelet. Damn," Mama said frustrated. She sat looking stunned for a moment. I went to put up some toast. "What was I saying?" she muttered, squeezing her temples between her thumb and fingers. "Oh yeah, New York... what about this boy, Balwin? What's he want?"
I took a breath. turned to her and began.
"When I was singing last night. Balwin was playing the piano. He's a very talented musician and he goes to the Kit-Kat occasionally to sit in with Barry Jones,"
"Wow," Daddy said. "He must be very talented to have them let him do that."
"He is. Daddy."
"Well, that's just wonderful for him," Mama said. "but what's it got to do with you?"
"Barry Jones called him this morning to tell him a New York entertainment agent was there and heard me sing and wanted me to audition for a school for the performing arts."
"No kidding?" Daddy said. "That's terrific."
"What's terrific about it? How she going to go to a school in New York? You know what kind of money that means," Mama practically shouted at him.
"Well, let's see about it first," Daddy said.
Mama stared at him. Her frustration had made her eyes bulge and whitened her lips. She looked at me with growing suspicion now.
"Who brought you home last night?" she asked.
"'Well?" she demanded when I hesitated.
"Balwin," I confessed.
"Thought so."
"What's this?' Daddy asked, turning from the stove. "What happened. Ice?"
"I told Mama they all wanted to go to someone's house for a private party and I refused to go. Shawn didn't understand. Mama, and he didn't respect me for saying no. He got belligerent and he left me there."
"He did what? I told you..." Daddy stammered.
"Oh. shut up, will you, and let the girl talk. finally." Mama said.
"They were drinking a lot and Shawn was too. We never even had any dinner."
"That's what I expected," Daddy said nodding.
"Oh, you expected. What are you, a fortuneteller now?" Mama sat there fuming.
"You didn't act mute or nothing all night, did you?" she asked with accusation written all over her face. "You didn't make them all think you were stuckup?"
"No, Mama. I talked when I had something to say and when they asked me questions, but the other girls didn't want to hear me talk."
"I bet," Daddy said. "What a mess you put her into!"
"Me? I did no such thing. I tried to get her out with people, to become someone. Don't you go making statements like that. Cameron Goodman,"
"It wasn't Mama's fault. Daddy. There was no way for her to know what it would be like."
"A woman with all her worldly experience ought to have known better," Daddy muttered and returned to his eggs.
Mama took the plate on her table, lifted it above her head and smashed it at his feet. He jumped back instinctively, accidentally hitting the handle of the pan, which sent it sliding over the range and onto the floor, spilling our omelets. It was all over in a split second, but it was as if the roof had caved in on our apartment.
"Look what you've gone and made me do!" Daddy cried.
"I'm tired of you making remarks about my past as if I was some kind of street girl, Cameron. I've told you that a hundred times, and I especially don't appreciate it in front of our daughter.
"Now, you've gone and filled her head with so much nonsense about this music thing, she thinks she can run off to New York and be a show star or something. She goes out on a date and gets up on a stage. I bet Shawn felt stupid."
"Why? He should have been proud she was with him. He should have appreciated her more."
"A man likes his woman to give him all her attention, not flirt with some piano player."
"I didn't flirt with him. Mama. He's just a friend. He plays for us at school. He"
"Oh, I heard all that. You went and showed them you were nothing but a high-school girl. All my work and all that expense down the drain.," she moaned, rose, glared at Daddy once and then marched out of the kitchen.
I started to clean up.
"Don't worry about her." Daddy said. "She'll get over it. You did the right thing not going to that house paity. You'd a been trapped with a bunch of drunks," he said. "She knows that. too. She's just... frustrated," he added and helped pick up the pieces of Mama's broken dish.
This was my fault. I thought.
I should have just insisted on not going out.
I should have stayed home and not tried to be Mama.
Balwin called again in the early afternoon to tell me he had spoken with Mr. Glenn and Mr. Glenn had told him the Senetsky School was so special only a half-dozen new students get in it a year.
"It's not just a school. You live there and she teaches you how to handle the entertainment world, how to behave, dress. act-- everything. Her graduates are all in Broadway shows or in television and film. As soon as you graduate, her son becomes your agent, and he's a very successful agent. It's the closest thing to a guaranteed successful ride into show business, whether you act, sing, dance, play instruments, anything she thinks shows real talent. You've got to do this. Ice. You've just got to give it a shot. I'll help you," Baiwin added.
"I don't know," I said still trembling from the battle Daddy and Mama had in the morning because of me. The house had become a tomb-- no one speaking, no music, barely any movement. Daddy sat in the living room rereading the same newspaper and Mama was lying down, a wet cloth over her forehead. fuming. I was afraid to make a sound. I was practically whispering on the phone.
"Something wrong?" Balwin asked.
"No," I said quickly.
"Well. I know this sounds like short notice, but why don't you come
on over and we'll tinker around with some possible pieces you could use."
I didn't respond.
"You know where I live, right?"
"No," I said.
He rattled off the address and then added directions.
"It's only about a ten-minute walk from where you are," he concluded.
Balwin lived in a nice neighborhood. I had been down that street before. but
I
didn't know anyone who lived there, until now.
The night before he had told me a lot about himself, His parents were both professionals. His father was an accountant and his mother was a dental hygienist. Like me, he was an only child. He was about twenty pounds or so overweight for his five foot ten inch frame, but he had a nice face with kind, intelligent black eyes and firm, straight lips. He was definitely the best-dressed boy in school and was often kidded about his wearing dress slacks and a nice shirt. They called him Mr. Noble. making "Mister" sound like a dirty word. Some of our teachers called him Mr. Noble, too, but they weren't teasing him. They were showing him respect because he was a good student, polite and very ambitious.
"Okay," I decided quickly."I'll be there."
"Great. This is going to be
fun,"
he said
and
hung up before
I
could even think of changing my mind.
It
brought a smile to my face, which had become like a desert when
it
came to smiles these days.
I
put on my jacket
and
called to Mama and Daddy from the doorway.
"I'm
going out for a while."
I
shouted.
"Bring back a carton of milk," Mama screamed back at me.
"Okay,"
I
said.
I
knew they both assumed
I
was just going for my usual walk around the block or maybe past some of the stores to look in the windows.
It
was a cool, gray day with some
wind.
Spring was having a hard time getting itself a foothold this year. Winter just seemed to be stubborn, refusing to be driven off. We had had flurries in early April
and
only one day more than seventy degrees. Today it was in
the
low fifties. People walked quickly, some re netted not wearing their heavier coats
and
hats. The weather made them any, as angry as people who
had
been cheated
and
scammed by some con man or woman.
In
this case, the villain was Mother Nature who had offered a contract with the calendar and then broken it with northerly winds and heavy clouds.
I
wore a light-blue sweater and skirt along with a pair of black buzzin' boots with three-and-a-halfinch heels.
I
liked feeling tall.
I
heard some catcalls and whistles from men in passing cars.
but I
kept my eyes forward. Once you look their way, they think you're showing some interest.
A gust of wind brought tears to my eyes as I quickly whipped around a coiner and headed down Balwin's street. I was practically running now. When I got to his door and pressed the buzzer, he opened it so quickly. I had to wonder if he hadn't been waiting right in the entryway the whole time.
"Looks nasty," he said glancing at the way the wind had picked up some discarded paper and chased it up the gutter.
I took a deep breath and nodded.
He looked nervous and started to talk so quickly, I thought he would run out of breath.
"I should have taken my father up on the car offer. He put a dollar value on my weight, offering to deposit so much for every pound I lost. I was to be weighed every morning before he went to work and he was going to keep this big chart up in his home office. but I never cared if I had my own car or not and he withdrew the offer."
He smiled.
"Maybe eating was just more important. Sorry. I could have picked you up tonight if I had my own car. My father won't let me use his car, and they took my mother's car tonight, which was the car I used to take you home from the Kit-Kat. They went to New York to see a show and have dinner," he said finally pausing for a breath. "Let me take your coat and hang it up for you."
I was shivering. but I gave it to him and he put it in the hallway closet. Whenever I visited anyone who had his or her own house. I understood Mama's constant longing to get us into something better. Odors from whatever other people on your floor were cooking didn't permeate your home. Noise and clatter were practically nonexistent. You had a true sense of privacy.
Balwin's house was a little more than modest. His parents had decorated it well. The furniture looked new and expensive. It was all early American. There were thick area rugs, elegant coffee and side tables, interesting pole and table lamps and real oil paintings on the walls, not prints. A large, teardrop chandelier hung over the rich, cherrywood dining room table.