The Heavenly Fugitive (12 page)

Next she sang a song that Al Jolson had made a hit, “Toot, Toot, Tootsie.” It was an easy song, usually performed by a male singer, but Amelia’s voice was strong enough to fill the place. This time the applause was even stronger, and some man cried out, “That’s even better than Jolson, kid!”

Amelia went from song to song for twenty minutes. She closed the first set with, “I’ll Be With You in Apple Blossom Time,” a plaintive melody, and here for the first time the audience grew still. Amelia threw herself into it. She had practiced singing like this and gesturing accordingly, and although she could not know it, her face caught the sorrowful quality of the song.

When the song ended she bowed, and there was dead quiet for a moment. Her heart sank—then she heard the applause. People clapped loudly and shouted out her name, and Amelia knew then she could do this job. She bowed several times, thanked the musicians, and left the small stage.

Riley intercepted her, grabbing her arm and enthusing, “Hey, kid, you done good! I never saw ’em applaud like that for a newcomer.”

“I’m glad you think so, Mr. Riley.”

“Go take a break. It’ll be a long night. Hope your pipes hold out.”

Her “pipes” did hold out, and Amelia found herself looking forward to performing the second set. Gus tried a few fancy licks with her, and she picked up on them immediately, improvising her own variations as well. Finally she sang a haunting song, “All by Myself,” written by the well-loved American songwriter Irving Berlin, and again the crowd applauded lustily.

Finally Gus said in a loud whisper, “Close it out, sweetie!”

What possessed her in the next few minutes Amelia Winslow would never know. She grew still, closing her eyes in thought as an urge began to build within her, and she felt a
silence fall over the nightclub. She knew there were people out there drunk, despite Prohibition, and she feared what might happen if she spoke aloud what was in her heart at that moment. Clutching her skirt in her hands to steady herself, she blurted out, “My father would hate the idea of my singing in a nightclub.”

The silence became deathly. She caught a glimpse of Riley, who was in her line of vision near the stage. He had drawn himself up absolutely still, his brows knit together.

“He’s a preacher, a missionary in Africa,” Amelia rushed on before she could lose her nerve. “I owe him and my mother everything, so I’m going to close with his favorite song. I hope you don’t mind.” Without accompaniment, she lifted her voice—quietly at first, then with growing confidence—filling the nightclub with the strains of “What a Friend We Have in Jesus.” She had sung only two lines when she heard the piano come in behind her and then the drums and the trumpet, muted but hinting of power. As she sang she thought of her father and mother and of her uncle Barney and her aunt Katie. She thought of her grandmother Lola and all of her family who so loved God, and it pained her that she did not. Unaware that tears were streaming down her face, she ended the song and turned blindly away, leaving the stage in a stunned hush.

Riley caught up with her and muttered, “Don’t know what got into ya, kid. This sure ain’t the place for that.” Riley had actually enjoyed her last song but would not have admitted it. He was a hard man, always looking out for himself, and was pretty certain he’d just lost a lot of business with Amelia’s surprise ending.

But even as Riley spoke, applause began. It rose and filled the place like thunder. A voice called out, “You stick with your folks, kid! They got the right idea.”

Riley’s dour expression did a complete turnabout. He grabbed her arm and shouted, “Hey, go back out there and
take a bow, Amelia. They know a good thing when they hear it. They love you!”

Amelia returned to the stage, alone in the spotlight, and threw a kiss to the audience. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Thank you all.” She stepped down, and Riley led her to the dressing room, where she found a handkerchief and wiped her face. “I don’t know why I sang that hymn. It just came out.”

Riley shook his head over what had just happened in his nightclub. As he’d watched the face of the young woman singing her father’s favorite hymn, he too had felt what the whole crowd had. Here was someone different, someone fresh and unspoiled. She had a fine voice, to be sure, but it was the sight of tears streaming down her cheeks that had grabbed them all. He reached over awkwardly and patted her shoulder. “I think it was good, kid. You do it every night.”

“You mean I have a job?”

“As long as you want one, kiddo. You’re the real goods!”

CHAPTER SIX

Always a Fugitive

“I knew I couldn’t keep you here long, kid, and I’m happy for you. Always like to see young folks moving up in the world.”

Amelia had come to say good-bye to Mickey Riley, and now he stood there pumping her hand up and down, a regretful smile on his broad Irish face.

“You’ve been so good to me, Mickey. I will never forget you.”

“That’s good to hear, kid—real good! When do you start?”

“Opening night’s tomorrow.”

“Well, anybody that sings at Eddie’s is on their way up.”

Amelia thought for a moment of how suddenly things had changed for her in just a few days. She had been singing at the Green Dragon for three months now, performing several nights a week and always drawing a big crowd. When she sang this past Tuesday night, someone had told her that Eddie Johns, the owner of the most popular nightclub in New York City, was in the audience. She had thought little of it and had performed her act exactly as usual, but afterward he had come back to see her in her tiny dressing room. He had introduced himself, and she had immediately recognized the name. “I’m so glad to meet you, Mr. Johns.”

“I caught your act tonight, Miss Winslow. I liked it a lot.”

“Why, thank you.”

“I’d like to hire you to sing at my place.”

Amelia remembered the shock that had run through her. Eddie’s Place was still a nightclub, but it was a giant step
forward on making her way in show business. She knew that some very successful musical and comedic stars had gotten their start in nightclubs, and she had replied without hesitation, “I’d love to work for you, Mr. Johns.”

Now as Amelia stood facing Mickey Riley, a regret came to her. “I hate to leave you like this, Mickey. It makes me seem ungrateful.”

“Nothin’ like that.” Riley waved his thick hand in the air. “This was just an on-the-way stop for you, and so will Eddie’s Place be. You’ll be a hit there. The next thing you know your name will be up in lights on Broadway right along with Fanny Brice and Al Jolson.” He grinned brashly and then shook his head with admiration. “You keep on singin’ that church song at the end of your act, ya hear me? That always gets ’em. It’s good show biz.”

Amelia was not at all certain of this. She always concluded her act with a hymn. She felt like a hypocrite, since she was so far away from God, but Mickey Riley had insisted she include it. “It may do some good. Ya never know,” he had said. “Guys and dolls in places like this, they need all the help they can get.” Besides, it appeared to be very good for business.

“I’ll be coming back to see you, Mickey.”

“Not likely, but I’ll be comin’ to see
you.
” He gave her an admiring glance and shook his head. “You remember your ol’ friend Mick when you’re up there with the big ones.”

“I’ll do that if I ever arrive.”

****

Dom intercepted Rosa as she pulled up her mare, Boadicea, and helped her down as she tossed the lines to the trainer.

“Hey, Miss Rosa, did you hear about what happened to Amelia?”

“You mean Amelia Winslow?”

“Sure.”

“What about her?” Rosa asked. She was wearing her usual
riding outfit: khaki jodhpurs, maroon sweater, and a black cap that matched her shiny black boots.

“Why, she’s gone up to the big time. She’ll be opening at Eddie’s tonight.”

“You mean the big nightclub?” Rosa said with interest.

“That’s the one. Funny thing. After I half killed her brother, I thought she was going to shoot me. But I was able to give her a hand, and we’ve become pretty good friends.”

Rosa had heard Dom relate the story of how he had met Amelia and had helped her get a job at the Green Dragon. Rosa had been very interested, and more than once she had asked Dom if he had seen Amelia—or Phil. Now as she walked back toward the house, an idea began to form in her mind. She said nothing to anyone, but late that afternoon she asked Dom to drive her to the stables where Phil worked. She found him exercising a horse. Getting out of the car, she said, “You wait here, Dom. I need to talk to Phil.”

“Okay. I’ll be right here.”

Rosa waited until Phil hopped off the horse, and then she called him. “Hello, Phil!”

Turning to meet her, Phil’s eyes lit up with pleasure. “Well, Rosa, what are you doing here?” He glanced over and saw Dom sitting in the car. “Got your bodyguard with you, I see.”

“Phil, I just heard about Amelia.” Rosa’s enormous dark eyes were glowing.

To Phil she looked very young, and he smiled at her excitement. “I don’t know whether to be glad or sad for her.”

Rosa stared at him without comprehension. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t you be happy?”

“Well, singing in a nightclub isn’t exactly my idea of a full life, Rosa.”

“But some of the most famous people in the world started out singing in nightclubs. Look at Al Jolson and Eddie Cantor. That’s where they started.”

Knowing that arguing with Rosa was futile, Phil smiled.
“Well, I try to be as glad as I can. But what are you doing here? Come to pick up another horse?”

“No, I came to ask you a favor.”

“Just name it.”

“I want you to take me to Amelia’s opening at Eddie’s.”

Astonished, Phil stared at the young woman. He knew what she asked was out of the question, and he wanted to nip this idea in the bud as quickly as possible. “Well, there are about half a dozen reasons I can think of why I can’t do that. The first one is that your father would have Dom take off my head if I did a thing like that. He doesn’t let you date, as you well know.”

“But this wouldn’t be a date—not exactly anyway,” Rosa said. She made an appealing figure as she stood there. She was not tall and had to look up, which made her even more attractive. She was on the brink of womanhood and did not know what a tempting figure she made as she tugged at his arm and pleaded, “You’ve just got to do it, Phil, you’ve got to! Why, you couldn’t let her have her debut without your being there.”

“Well, it’s not just that I’m afraid your father would shoot me—or have Dom do it—but I don’t have the money or the clothes.”

“I can fix all that if you’ll just take me.”

“I don’t think you need to be in a nightclub, Rosa.”

“Phil, I’m almost sixteen! And if I get Dad’s permission and see that the expenses are all taken care of, will you take me?”

Phil thought swiftly.
Might as well say yes. Big Tony will never let her do this anyway.
“Okay,” he shrugged. “But it’ll never happen.”

****

Big Tony Morino was astute at reading men’s minds. His very survival in the hard life he’d chosen testified to the fact that he was a shrewd judge of character. He could sit in a
meeting with ten men and know what each one of them was planning or plotting.

But he had not yet learned how to outwit his daughter Rosa. She had figured out years earlier exactly how to get what she wanted from him, for it was no secret he wanted her to have everything. Very rarely had he given her an absolute no, and at those times Rosa had learned to simply give up. But most of the time she managed to maneuver her father into allowing her to do whatever she wanted, as long as it was not downright dangerous.

Her usual strategy was to soften him up first by fixing him one of his favorite dishes. His wife usually managed to keep his diet under control at home, but when he was out, he loved to frequent La Casa, the best Mexican restaurant in New York, and fill up on the best cheese dip in the world. Rosa had made it her business to get the secret recipe from the cook, pleading that she had to have it, and the cook had agreed to give the recipe to the daughter of one of the restaurant’s best customers. Tony’s doctors had forbidden him to eat it because of his heart condition, but he didn’t often listen to his doctors.

Now she made up a batch of the cheese dip and brought it to him steaming hot in a small bowl with a plateful of chips for dipping.

Tony looked up, and a grin came up over his face. “Cheese dip!” He grabbed both the bowl and the plate, put them down on his desk, and began dipping the chips into the hot cheese.

“Watch out, Daddy! You’ll burn your tongue!”

“I don’t care. This is the best stuff I ever had in my life.” Tony ate noisily, managing to get cheese dip on his tie.

Rosa leaned over with a napkin and wiped it off. “Here, Daddy, you’re getting it all over. You’re as messy as a baby.”

“I don’t care. This stuff just sets me free.” Tony ate every bite, then demanded, “Is there any more?”

“Not today. You know you’re not supposed to have it, and don’t you dare tell Mom!”

“This will be our secret.”

“You’ll have to send your tie out to be cleaned or she’ll see it and know what you’ve been eating.”

Rosa climbed into Tony’s lap, reached her arms around his neck, and leaned her head on his. Delighted with her attention, he said, “So what have you been doing with yourself besides making me happy with cheese dip?” He held her, listening intently as she outlined her days. He loved that his little girl still wanted to sit in his lap, and he loved listening to her talk. He dreaded the day when she would leave home. He knew it had to come eventually, but the thought made him sad.

Finally Rosa sat up and brushed back Tony’s hair. “You’ve even got cheese dip on your eyebrows!” She laughed. “Here, let me get it off.” She fished a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiped the cheese dip off, shaking her head. “You are such a glutton about cheese dip.”

Defensively Tony said, “A man’s got few enough pleasures in this world. He ought to take ’em all as they come.”