Last Dance on the Starlight Pier, page 21
“It’s ridiculous,” Zave answered, waving away what he obviously thought was a crazy idea. “You’d never agree to it. Or me either.”
“Agree to what?”
Silence again greeted my question.
Running out of patience, I adopted the tone I’d been forced to use when I’d done a few rotations as a charge nurse and had to deal with smart-ass orderlies and snide interns, and demanded, “Tell me exactly what you are talking about.”
After a moment, Zave finally answered, “A wedding. Specifically, a cellophane wedding.”
CHAPTER 48
“A cellophane what?”
“Wedding,” Pops supplied. “Last time we staged one, we broke attendance records at the Roseland Ballroom. With the Depression on no one can afford to get married anymore. I read where across the country, weddings are down by something like a third. That’s a lot of people with dreams they’re only gonna fulfill vicariously. So, watching some lucky couple start life together is a surefire draw. Plus, weddings always bring in the society crowd. And that would make Salvy happy enough that I might get out of this town alive.”
“What’s cellophane got to do with it?” I asked.
“That’s the gimmick,” Pops explained, getting excited in spite of himself. “All the gowns and tuxes are made out of cellophane.”
I had questions. “Cellophane? Like see-through cellophane?”
“Just the outer stuff,” Pops explained. “Everyone keeps on their regular underwear. Slips, teddies, tap pants, what have you. It’s actually more than what you women wear to the beach, but the suckers get a kick out of thinking they’re peeking at what they shouldn’t be seeing.”
“Okay,” I muttered. Pretending I didn’t already know that he was talking about me and Zave, I said, “And you think you can actually talk a couple of dimwits into getting married wearing candy wrappers?”
“No,” Pops exclaimed. “That’s the beauty of it. No one really gets married. We do the whole big buildup. Get sponsors to donate flowers and make the gowns. Then there’s a raft of wedding presents. Last time we staged one the couple raked in an icebox, a suite of living room furniture, a trip to Cuba, a complete trousseau, and a year’s supply of Ovaltine.”
“But they didn’t actually get married?” I said. “How’s that fulfill anyone’s vicarious dream?”
“There’s a ‘ceremony,’” Pops said dismissively. “But it’s just some jaboni we pull in off the street, turn his collar around, and stick a copy of the wedding vows in his hands to read.”
“And this ludicrous charade works?”
“Like gangbusters,” Pops assured me. “Of course, we have to use the couple that’s most popular with the crowd. And, to make the whole setup play, they have to leave the show after the ‘wedding’ and go off to start their new lives together.”
“Of course,” I agreed archly. “And I assume you think that Zave and I are the most popular couple.”
Pops answered mournfully, “Cleo’s the vamp now, so, unfortunately, yes. Which leaves us exactly nowhere, since there’s no way you’d play along.”
For several long, silent moments we shuffled around the floor. As Pops stared glumly at his feet I worked through all the new angles they had just very conveniently presented to me. The wheels turned and spit out one indisputable fact: Zave was right. I was never going to get my pin unless I appealed to a power higher than the Director. And Zave had given me what looked to be my only avenue to getting some of that power.
I startled them by asking, “Pops, what kind of publicity did your last wedding pull in?”
Pops shot a quick glance of surprise at Kane. But he didn’t look at Zave, which bolstered my hope that he wasn’t in on the setup. “Huge,” he answered.
“National?”
“Coast to coast.”
“What happened to the couple after?”
“They headlined a couple shows for me. Brought in giant crowds until the blushing bride got pregnant by one of the locals. You probably read about them. ‘Mr. and Mrs. Moonlight’?”
“So they were big enough to open a show?”
“A couple of shows.”
“What was the local coverage like?”
“Wall to wall. Papers, daily radio broadcast, the works.”
“Kind of like a bomb had dropped in the middle of town?”
Zave smiled at me.
“Huh?” Pops said.
I liked seeing the puzzled look on the promoter’s face as he tried to figure out what my angle might be. I’m sure he thought “crazy,” but I didn’t care. If I was going to get played, I would call the game, because I’d be playing for a lot more than winning a marathon. I’d be playing for my pin.
Against all the rules, I halted, made the men do the same, and announced, “Okay, here’s how it’s going to go. I’ll be the pretend bride in this pretend wedding.”
“Oh, Evie, that’s great. That’s great.” A jubilant Pops tried to hug me. I stopped him.
“What?” Zave asked, genuinely puzzled. “You’re not serious, are you? You really want to do this?”
“Why not? If it’s all just an act? What’s the difference between that and me playing a homewrecker? I mean, if you want to? Do you?”
“Oh Lord, oh jeez, oh God.” Pops pulled me into a crushing hug. “Evie, you saved my neck. You saved the whole damn show. The kids are gonna be so excited. We’ll pull in a whole new crowd.” Hyperventilating, Pops stumbled over his words as he rushed on, “Salvy will love giving it to Zave like this. Evie, I could just kiss you.”
He crushed my head between his big mitts and almost attempted to do that, but I broke out of his hold and announced solemnly, “But first I have a few terms.”
“Sure, sure, anything,” Pops hurried to agree.
“First of all, don’t ever con me again. If you want something ask me straight up.”
“Con you?” Pops asked, feigning bewilderment.
“Save it, Pops,” I said. Feeling as if I were standing at the top of a tall diving tower about to plunge into the speck of a pool far below, I sucked in a deep breath and continued, “Because I want to set up a show in Galveston. More important, I can set up a show there.”
“In Galveston?” Kane asked dubiously.
“In Galveston, but—”
“You have ‘terms,’” Pops interjected sourly.
“I do. First, all publicity goes through me. I will control every story that goes out.”
“Sure, no problem,” Pops agreed readily, relieved that my terms weren’t financial.
“Second, you will hire a real actual nurse and I’ll train her.”
“Whatever you say, Evie, except you’re still forgetting one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“There’s no venue on the island big enough to make it worth the trouble.”
“Oh, but there is,” I purred, pleased by the novel sensation of having something on the promoter. “I know the exact place. It’ll require some sprucing up, but it’s huge and the owner is desperate to figure out what to do with the place.”
“Sounds too good to be true,” Pops said, once again the wised-up operator. “What’s the catch?”
“The catch is you run a good show, don’t cut any corners, and give all the contestants a fair shake.”
“Done.”
I was pleased at how ecstatic Pops and Kane were at the prospect of setting up a show in Galveston. In fact, the only one who wasn’t excited was Zave. “Wait,” I said, “Zave never actually agreed.”
“You’re in,” Pops asked. “Aren’t you?”
“It’s not a real wedding,” Kane, holding Zave’s gaze, reminded him.
Zave didn’t speak until Pops said, “Come on. It’s the gimmick of the century. We’ll charge a fortune for the ringside seats. Say you’re in.”
Looking away from Kane, Zave paused for an excruciating moment, then shrugged and answered, “Sure, I could use a year’s supply of Ovaltine.”
Pops, already strategizing with Kane as they walked away, paused, and called back to me, “Hey, what’s the name of this dream venue?”
“The Starlight Palace.”
CHAPTER 49
“The Handsome Hoofer has popped the question,” Alonzo exploded that night. “And, folks, hold on to your hats, because our Angel of Mercy said yes!”
The applause could have registered on the Richter scale. Zave and I stood front and center in the middle of the floor with the circling dancers making a beautiful frame around us. Zave beamed into the rafters and I, in a crisp, new, whiter-than-white uniform, looked away with what appeared to be demureness.
Actually I was shell-shocked by how quickly the grand plans I’d set in motion had solidified around me. The instant I told Pops about the Starlight Palace he hustled me back to his office, put me on the phone, and I called the Buccaneer Hotel, where I knew JuJu was ensconced with his current mistress.
“Could you put me through to Julian Amadeo?” I asked the hotel operator.
“Whom may I say is calling?” she purred.
“Evie Grace Devlin.”
“I’ll check if that guest is available at this time.”
In the silence that followed, the men arched eyebrows at each other as if they were indulging my little folly though they, in all their wisdom, knew it would fail.
“Evelina,” JuJu exclaimed in his familiar growl of a voice. I held the receiver up so that the three men could hear. “To what do I owe the honor? The whole town has been reading about you.”
“Oh, JuJu,” I said, suddenly wishing this were a friendly call to Sofie’s uncle and regretting mixing business in.
“That’s Uncle JuJu to you.” As he corrected me, I motioned for the men to leave, snapping my fingers impatiently to hurry them along.
When they closed the door, I explained the situation, concluding, “And, well, I just thought that the Starlight Palace might be the perfect spot for a show. Sofie told me how much you and your brother wanted to reclaim a bit of the Pier’s former glory, and it occurred to me that this might be a way to do it.”
My heart sank when my proposal was met with complete silence, and I cringed, thinking of how humiliating it was going to be when I told the guys I’d been refused.
Finally, JuJu said thoughtfully, “Evelina, you know what? I think I like it. A big event like that might just fit in with our plans. We’ve been sprucing the old place up a little. Just enough to make it presentable as the site of a gala Fourth of July fireworks extravaganza where my brother and I are going to announce our plans to renovate and reopen the Starlight Pier.”
“Really? Are you serious?”
“No promises, but we might be able to work something out. Especially if the show is going to feature our local girl made good, right?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Good, good. My niece misses you. I’m getting a phone put in her apartment so you two can talk.”
“I miss her. A lot.”
“Sofia is friends with everyone, but has never had many close friends. Not a true friend like you. Everyone needs a true friend.”
“I know. It’ll be great to come home.” Relief, nerves, hope, who knows what, but my voice wobbled on those last words.
Switching to a gruffer business mode, JuJu asked, “So, this Wyatt guy. Is he on the level?”
After a moment’s hesitation, I told him the one thing I could truthfully say about Pops. “I promise you that Pops really cares about putting on a great show.”
“He’s not gonna pull a fast one on us, is he?”
“Uncle JuJu, Mr. Wyatt is a lot of things, but he is not a stupid man. He fully understands and appreciates who the Amadeos are and the unique place your family occupies and how very unwise it would be not to honor that.”
“Yeah, word is the nephew is squeezing him pretty hard. I’ll have to square things with Salvy first, but okay, then, Evelina, if you’ll vouch for this Pops character, I’ll ask my brother. I know this will make Sofia very happy. Put Wyatt on the horn.”
CHAPTER 50
I waited in the hall and prayed that Pops was closing the deal. When he burst out ten minutes later and announced, “We got a show,” the electric thrill that surged through me could have lit up Coney Island.
Nearly hyperventilating, and vibrating with a manic energy, Pops declared, “Evie, I’m gonna leave for Galveston with an advance team tonight. JuJu’s gonna send contracts tomorrow. I’ll have Kane bring you yours.”
“Contract?” I asked. “Why do I need a contract?”
“Because you’re the star of the show. You and Zave. And stars always sign contracts.” Already grabbing his hat, he was almost out the door before he paused, took a steadying breath, and said, “Thanks, Evie, seriously. You don’t know what you’ve done.”
“Saved your life,” I reminded him. “You remember my terms, right?”
“Sure, sure. We’ll work it out. Whatever you want. Gonna be great. Gonna be gangbusters. Have a great wedding. See you in Galveston.”
He was gone, and that evening I was standing in the middle of an arena listening to Alonzo announce my engagement.
When the emcee went on about “the kind of real, true happy ending that will make you all believe that, no matter how tough times may be right now, everything is going to turn out all right,” there were so many white hankies fluttering to mop up tears that you would have thought an army was surrendering.
Zave winked at me as though we were pulling the greatest prank ever. Still, when Alonzo talked about our “storybook romance,” a bit of the electricity that crackled through the audience somehow sparked in me as well. Ticket sales shot up immediately. But what really made attendance go through the roof was when the Associated Press picked up the story and it went national. Attendance skyrocketed and sponsorships for the wedding poured in.
They started off with what some of the other dancers told me were run-of-the-mill offerings: a steak dinner at Louie’s Chop House; two tickets to the Biograph (“Air Cooled By Refrigeration”) Theater to see No Man of Her Own with Clark Gable and Carole Lombard; a steamboat cruise around Lake Michigan aboard the U.S.S. South American.
As soon as the AP began carrying the story nationally, though, the offerings became much swankier. When headlines like “Marathon Medico Cures Handsome Hoofer’s Heartache: She Said YES!” began appearing across the country, the big-name retailers became interested.
The Saturday after our engagement was announced, Zave twirled me under the floodlights as Alonzo revealed that Marshall Field’s department store had contributed the lingerie that would be worn beneath the transparent gowns and that C.D. Peacock at the corner of State and Monroe Streets—“providing Chicago with fine jewelry since 1837”—would be designing a wedding ring “as enchanted as this couple’s enchanted romance.”
Zave and I were pirouetting around, grinning into each other’s faces, having fun with an exaggeratedly sweeping, exaggeratedly romantic Viennese waltz when Alonzo announced that “the world-renowned Palmer Hotel has just now alerted the show that they will host our enchanted couple for a three-night stay at the Honeymoon Suite.”
Zave stiffened at the word “honeymoon.”
“Oh ho,” Alonzo hooted. “What do we have here? Not one but two blushing brides? Have you ever seen two people more embarrassed in your lives?”
The crowd answered with wolf whistles and raucous laughter that rocked the arena.
Though Zave recovered quickly and began hamming it up, overplaying the role of the bashful swain, it was too late; I’d already seen the look of distaste on his face at the mention of a honeymoon. Not one to run from the truth, I realized in an instant that whatever chemistry I might have dreamed existed between us was completely one-sided. I made a feeble attempt at pretending that I too was in on all the fun while Zave waltzed me off to the sidelines so that I could return to the infirmary.
“There she goes, our blushing bride,” Alonzo crowed.
At that, the pounding waves of applause melted into a syrupy sludge of cooed Awwws, as if I, gangly, too-tall Evie Grace were the cutest, most adorable, most beloved thing in the whole wide world. Zave’s expression had confirmed that I was neither.
Though my brain knew what the score was and accepted it as a means to my end of getting my pin, my stupid heart had, apparently, fallen for the charade. At the edge of the floor, I yanked my hand away from Zave’s.
“Evie,” Zave called after me, “come tomorrow. Early. We have to talk.”
CHAPTER 51
I stayed up most of the night. The path that only a short time ago looked so bright and shiny and clear now seemed hopelessly murky and ill-conceived.
“Hey, look, gang,” Minnie shouted when she caught sight of me as I dragged in a few hours later. “It’s the blushing bride.”
The contestants were gathered around the high table eating scrambled eggs, toast, and orange slices, and drinking far too much coffee. As prescribed by the rules, they all stayed in motion, swaying from foot to foot like chained elephants as they ate so that King Kong or some other vigilant judge wouldn’t eliminate them for not staying in constant motion. Even as they ate and swayed, they hurled good-natured jibes my way.
“Bet you’re looking for your ‘fiancé,’” Ace called out.
“No practicing for the honeymoon allowed,” Patsy joked.
“Don’t listen to those wiseacres,” Minnie said. “Zave’s in the rest area, taking a hygiene break.”
“A fiancé’s gotta shower and stay springtime fresh for his girl, right, fellows?” Patsy asked.
Breaking through the guffaws, Lily called out in her elegant, fluting voice, “He has been gone seven minutes and,” she swiveled her head to the clock, “fourteen seconds. Should he return, we shall inform him that his betrothed came calling.”
As usual, no one reacted to Lily’s odd outburst.
Cleo caught my eye. Her expression was unreadable, but when she gave me the barest hint of a nod it seemed almost sympathetic. I nodded back and fled to my canvas sanctuary. There, waiting for my signature atop my small, battered supply cabinet, I found the contract for the Galveston show.
