The telephone rang on Jenny’s desk, interrupting her work on a black propaganda article about Nazi troop movements. She knew it could only be one person. “Jenny Bug!” Bernie said through the handset.
“Hi, you!” Jenny said. The photographer was cheerful as ever—a constant in the universe—and one of the few things she missed from the Daily Chronicle.
“Are you running that ad agency yet? You’ve got a secretary, for crying out loud! Please hold for Miss Ryan,” he said and then giggled.
“She’s the secretary for the department, Bernie, not my personal secretary.” She looked up and winked at the OSS employee parked at the desk adjacent to hers. He smiled as he gathered some papers and disappeared into the busy office, leaving her to her phone call.
She had never lied to Bernie about anything in her life—ever—and while she knew he was as patriotic as the next guy, he was not really one to keep his tongue when the drinks flowed, and that made her decision to deceive him about her employment a little easier to swallow. It was for the good of the country, after all.
“Sure you don’t want to come back to the Chronicle?” he asked. “Ever since you left, your uncle has been grumpier than a horny toad in a shoebox.
“And how is Cal?” Jenny asked about his southern boyfriend.
“He’s wonderful. We miss you.”
“I miss you too. It’s just been crazy with the new job and everything.”
“Say, listen, why don’t I come over for a late lunch?”
She had to think quick. “I’ve already had lunch. Why don’t I come over to the Chronicle tomorrow? I’ve got to make nice with Uncle Paul anyway. The benefit is Friday night.”
“Jeepers crow, that’s right. You’re his date.”
“Well, I don’t know about that. I’ll see if I can patch things up. I’m still plenty ticked.”
“A month is a long time to hold a grudge, even for you.”
“He was wrong, Bernie. He’s just too damn stubborn to admit it.”
Bernie paused, and Jenny knew he was biting back a comment about her stubborn streak.
“You know he’d give you your job back in a second. He hasn’t even filled your desk. It just sits there …” He paused dramatically. “Like a barren reminder of your once radiant light.”
Jenny chuckled. “Are you sure you don’t want to come and work here? We could use your particular brand of BS on our latest account.” Who knew lying was so easy.
“Ha, ha. Those Madison Avenue dopes can’t afford my brilliance.”
“Pardon me while I get a shovel. It’s getting a little deep in here.”
She heard Bernie’s laughter trail away from the receiver as someone called his name in the background.
“Nuts. I’ve got to run. Tomorrow at noon?”
“I’ll be there.”
“Love ya, hon.”
“Love you too, sweetie.”
“Final run-throughs!” Jenny heard someone shout as she entered the nightclub section of The Grotto. She could see Kathryn taking her place on stage in front of the microphone as the bandleader raised his hand and counted a silent rhythm in the air. She saw Dominic sitting at a table in the back, newspapers, receipts, and ledgers spread before him in controlled disarray. He pulled on the cigar wrapped in his thick forefinger as he stretched out his legs in apparent satisfaction.
Jenny moved over to where he was sitting and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Hi, Mr. Vignelli,” she whispered.
“Ah, Miss Jenny,” he said in a hushed tone, a little startled. He seemed confused for a moment at her presence on a late Monday afternoon, when they were closed, but he ventured a glance at the stage and smiled.
“Sit down here,” he said, as he closed the ledger book and moved the papers aside.
Jenny complied. “The band sounds fantastic.”
“A special arrangement,” he said, beaming with pride.
Jenny’s eyes drifted to center stage, where Kathryn performed her craft flawlessly, clad in her staple white blouse and a tight-fitting navy blue skirt.
“Listen to her,” Dominic said. “Now listen carefully to the music.” He tilted his head toward the sound.
Jenny did her best to tune out Kathryn’s vocal, and to her surprise, she found the band appeared to be playing a totally unrelated song to the melody Kathryn carried so effortlessly above them. She looked at Dominic in amazement. “Wow.”
“Mm-hm. She alone carries the melody.”
Jenny knew very little about the mechanics of making music—other than she couldn’t carry a tune without the music to keep her on pitch—but even she knew this feat was impressive, especially with a band playing something else in your ear.
She felt a spring of pride well up in her. This amazing singer was a friend of hers. She’d be more than a friend if she had anything to say about it. She turned to Dominic to speak and found him staring at her with a knowing smile. She blushed and felt she owed him an explanation for her presence.
“Kat owes me a ride home tonight.”
Dominic’s grin widened, telling Jenny all she needed to know about his comprehension of the situation.
They watched the rest of the set in silence until the last song, when Dominic turned to her.
“You like?”
“Well,” Jenny said, trying to think of something to say without offending the man. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard ‘Stormy Weather’ so … optimistically cheerful.”
“Ah! Perfect!” he said. “There is enough sadness in this world, no? You want to be blue? You go to the club across town.” He thumbed dismissively over his shoulder. “We are happy here.” He clasped his hands together. “Nothing but happy.”
A lovely sentiment, Jenny admitted to herself, but an upbeat version of “Stormy Weather”?
“She hates this arrangement,” he said, pointing to Kathryn, who was smiling valiantly through cheery note after cheery note, sung in perfect harmony with the backup singers.
Jenny laughed out loud, imagining Kathryn suppressing an eye roll, and then quickly covered her mouth and a muffled apology.
Kathryn went through the motions of the song but felt nothing for it. Dominic had sacrificed the emotion of the lyrics for the joyful exuberance of the arrangement. Kathryn had done the same in her own life.
Every day she played along, dragging the appropriate emotions from memory to appear moved on the outside, but she cared for very little, except for her music. In her music, she could feel again. Live again. Music was truth, and from it poured her soul. For her, it was the purest form of communication she’d found. So much so, she felt inadequate expressing herself any other way.
She was momentarily annoyed with Dominic. His bastardized creation interfered with her only source of joy. Her irritation was interrupted by a familiar laugh, warm and inviting. Okay, so music wasn’t her only source of joy. Her heart lifted at the sound of Jenny’s laughter, and her mood lightened immediately. She finished the song and, with it rehearsal, and left the stage, making her way to where Jenny and Dominic were engrossed in conversation.
“Hi,” Jenny said with a full-faced grin when she arrived.
“Hi. What are you doing here?” Kathryn replied coolly, then regretted her tone, which came out all wrong, in an attempt to mask her delight at finding Jenny at the club.
Jenny’s enthusiasm seemed unaffected. “I’m here to take you to dinner, and then you’re going to drive me home.”
Kathryn raised a surprised brow. “Oh?”
“That was the deal, right?” Jenny asked in a tone that said the only answer was yes.
“Well, yes. That was the deal.” Dinner was new, but she didn’t mind at all. “I didn’t expect you. Smitty said you had a ride home.”
“Yes. You.”
“Ah.”
“Have you made other plans?”
“Oh, no.” Kathryn smiled cheerfully, overcompensating in the opposite direction. “Let me change and I’ll be right down.”
“Lovely job today, Kathryn,” Dominic said. “Thank you.”
She threw a warm smile over her shoulder as she walked away, no longer irritated by the song. “Anything for you, Nicky.”
“Judas priest,” Jenny said, watching Kathryn descend the stairs from her dressing room. “Pedestrian my—” she left the rest of the sentence to Dominic’s imagination.
“You don’t like?” he asked about Kathryn’s attire.
“What’s not to like?”
Kathryn wore a perfectly tailored dark gray jacket and skirt, with a matching thigh-length cape that draped from her broad shoulder pads. A billowed red blouse with small white polka dots peeked out from her suit’s low-cut collar, and a beautiful sterling silver brooch embedded with red stones surrounded by delicate silver rose petals resided on her oversized lapel.
“Pedestrian?” Dominic asked.
“She claims to have pedestrian taste in clothes.”
Dominic nearly choked on his drink and gestured at Kathryn’s approaching form. “That beautiful lady wouldn’t know pedestrian if she tripped over it on the sidewalk. She was born to wear clothes, and she has only the finest.” He admired the outfit. “Her clothes are designed especially for her, you know. Part of our arrangement.” He nodded, as if Jenny knew what he was talking about. “Now, if only you could convince her she can keep them.” He smiled and stood as Kathryn reached the table.
“Absolutely stunning, my dear,” he said, as he needlessly adjusted the cape and brushed an imaginary speck of dust from her shoulder.
“Tell Anita it’s beautiful. Ready, Jenny?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Good night, Nicky.”
“Have fun, ladies.”
“Oh, we will,” Jenny said.
Kathryn threw a glance over her shoulder to find Dominic shaking his head with a grin.