18
Stepping onto that stage, Shar was as nervous as she’d ever been. The flapper dress she wore showed her knees, and way, way too much of her bosom was hanging out for all to see. Shar felt like a showgirl as she opened the ostrich feather fan all the way, so that it covered her from the tip of her shoulder to just below her knees.
But Shar was thankful that the fan covered her knees because they were shaking. Totally out of her element in that environment, Shar only knew a few secular songs and that was because the lady next door to her parents’ house played her blues songs while hanging her wash out to dry. One of the songs was by Bessie Smith. It wasn’t very ladylike, so Shar stood in front of the mic, looking out at the audience in the dimly lit room wondering what she should do.
“Move that feather so we can see you, girl,” one of the men at the bar yelled.
“Forget seeing her. I thought she was supposed to be singing something,” another man hollered from the back.
Shar’s eyes darted across the ballroom, looking for Nicoli, hoping and praying that he would come and rescue her.
The piano player banged on the keys trying to get her attention. He was seated to the left of her on the floor just below the stage. Shar looked down. “What do you want me to play?” he asked.
She quickly racked her brain, but when she could come up with nothing else, she told him, “ ‘Mama’s Got the Blues’ by Bessie Smith.”
“Now you’re talking.” The piano player smiled as his fingers tapped the keys.
Having no choice but to do something now that she was on stage, Shar opened her mouth and began belting out the only song she thought would satisfy this crowd.
Some people say that the weary blues ain’t bad
But it’s the worst old feeling that I’ve ever had
The crowd started clapping and yelling, “Sing that song . . . girl, you know you got some chops on you.”
A portly man seated at one of the tables in the front of the room, got out of his chair, rushed up to the stage, and leaned over and grabbed hold of Shar’s ankle. “I’ll hold your aching head, baby.”
Shar jumped back, moving away from leering hands. She looked around for Nicoli as she held the feather closer to her body. When she spotted Nicoli, he was seated at a table in the back giving her the evil eye while a scantily dressed woman whispered in his ear.
He was getting mad again. Remembering the way he’d gripped her arm in the dressing room, Shar was terrified of what Nicoli would do to her if she stopped singing, so with tears brimming in her eyes she continued. She sang every word of that song even as tears rolled down her face. She kept singing until she was done. She then stood there with her head bowed low, feeling ashamed of herself and everything she stood for.
One by one the men and women in the room stood up and applauded. They started screaming, “More . . . more.”
The piano man hollered up at her, “You don’t want to say no to this crowd. Just start singing, and I’ll follow your lead.”
She didn’t want to sing another blues songs and didn’t think she could make it through another one if she tried. Her stomach was turning, accusing her of betraying her beliefs. She had no business in a place like this . . . dressed like this . . . singing songs like this.
“You’ve got to do something, girl. These cats will lose their mind if you don’t give ’em what they want,” the piano player hollered up at her.
But Shar didn’t care anymore. She stepped down from the stage, walked over to Nicoli, ignored the woman seated next to him, and said, “I’m leaving. I should never have agreed to do this.”
He stood. “You can’t just walk out of here. Mr. Marson wants you to sing a set.”
Shar wasn’t going to be intimidated by him one second longer. He’d hurt her arm in the dressing room, but she doubted that he would try anything like that in front of a room full of witnesses. She pointed at the woman next to him. “Tell her to go up there and sing while these dirty old men paw at her and make all sorts of God-awful comments.” Shar threw the Ostrich feather at Nicoli.
“You’re jealous over Lucy.” He looked from Lucy to Shar, still holding the feather. “We’re just friends, girl. Now stop acting crazy and get back on that stage.”
“No,” Shar said as she huffed her way toward the door.
As she reached for the door handle, a hand gripped her around her upper arm, and she was instantly paralyzed, thinking
that Nicoli was about to beat on her in front of all these people. Why oh why hadn’t she listened to Mahalia?
“I’m sorry, little lady, but I can’t let you leave out of here in that dress. I had it shipped all the way from France.”
That wasn’t Nicoli’s voice. A chill went up Shar’s spine as she turned around and faced the man who’d had Nicoli beaten to within an inch of his life, and now she wondered if he planned to do the same to her.
“I’m Joe Marson,” the big and burly man who looked like he could outbox Joe Louis said.
“I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t trying to steal the dress.” She looked down at herself and shook her head as she told him, “And believe me, I certainly don’t want to walk the streets in it.”
Mr. Marson laughed.
Shar was surprised by the laugh and was beginning to think that maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all. She leaned into him and asked, “Do you think I could go back to the dressing room and get my clothes?”
“You certainly can,” he said with a smile.
Shar thanked him and made a move to go to the dressing room.
Joe Marson then put one finger up and said, “But, since I have already paid Nicoli for this performance, I’m going to need you to sing at least one more song, before I let you into that dressing room tonight.” His eyes became cold and unyielding, but the smile was still plastered on his face.
Shar wanted to refuse, but that chill was going up her spine again. This man was dangerous, and she knew it with every fiber of her being. She wasn’t about to argue with him. So, she got back on that stage and did as she was told. When the song ended, the crowd started begging for more again. Mr. Marson motioned for her to keep singing. By the third song, Shar was getting into the rhythm. The piano player was working with her, and the crowd didn’t seem as rowdy. So she closed her eyes and began to feel each song as she belted the words out.
After the fifth song, Mr. Marson walked to the edge of the stage and held out his hand to her. Shar put the microphone in its cradle and walked off the stage and sat down at Mr. Marson’s table.
“Well, I’ll say this, Miss Shar Gracey, you have a voice that other singers would kill to have.”
Shar reckoned that he was giving her a compliment but didn’t know if she liked the thought of anyone contemplating murder just to have her voice. “I’m thinking that other singers are happy with the voice God gave ’em.”
Marson shook the table with his big belly laugh. “You are a caution. I bet you keep Nicoli in stitches.”
“She sure does, Mr. Marson. Funniest girl I ever met and the prettiest too.” Nicoli pulled up a chair and sat down at the table with them. He tried to put an arm around Shar, but she brushed it off.
“I was just getting ready to invite this little lady to sing at my club for the rest of the weekend.”
Shar shook her head. “I can’t come back in here. I sing with Thomas Dorsey’s choir.”
“I know Dorsey. We used to call him Georgia Tom when he was playing his piano in the juke joints. So, I doubt if he will condemn you for trying to earn a little money.” Marson leaned back in his seat, looking from Nicoli to Shar waiting on an answer.
“What do you mean? How can I earn money?” Shar was suddenly very interested in the conversation.
“I can pay you ten dollars a night.”
Nicoli jumped in. “Since I’m Shar’s manager, I need to advise her that she shouldn’t settle for anything less than twenty-five a night.”
“Nicoli, what are you doing?” Shar asked. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to come back to this club. Even though Mr. Marson tried to make her feel better about it by reminding her that Mr. Dorsey had once played in nightclubs and juke joints, she still wasn’t comfortable with any of this. However, Shar did like the sound of that money. And she didn’t want Nicoli messing anything up for her before she could decide what to do.
Nicoli put a hand on her shoulder. “This is a conversation for us men. Let me handle this.”
Shar wanted to roll her eyes at that. But she didn’t interrupt again.
“I’ll let her put a tip jar out. If she sings like she did tonight and then makes nice with the customers, she’ll make some good tips.”
Nicoli said, “Deal,” then shook Marson’s hand.
On the walk home, Nicoli couldn’t contain his joy. “You did it, Shar. You showed them what I’ve known all along.”
“And that is?” Shar asked tight-lipped. She hadn’t forgotten about the woman he’d been whispering with in the back of the room.
“That Shar Gracey is going to be somebody. You’re on your way. And I’m going to be your manager so you don’t get cheated.”
“It sure looked like you were doing a little cheating of your own tonight. I guess this is what you do behind my back at these clubs.” She folded her arms around her stomach as she kept walking.
“You need to stop being so jealous. I ain’t got time for nobody but you in my life. And I sure wouldn’t be cheating with Lucy. That girl don’t have nothing on you.”
“I don’t care if her name is Lucy or Emma Jean or whoever else you want to cozy up with. I’m getting plum tired of the way you’re treating me.”
Nicoli took hold of Shar’s arms and stopped her from walking. “Look at me, Shar.”
She averted her eyes. Nicoli talked her into too much stuff when she looked at him.
“I’m serious, Shar. Look at me. Look me in the eye and tell me that you can’t see how much I love you. I ain’t never been with a woman like you. And I don’t want to be with nobody but you.”
She turned to him, but truth be told, Shar couldn’t tell what his eyes was saying. But the words were melting the ice from around her heart.
“I swear for God, that meeting you has changed me. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me . . . do you hear me?”
“I hear you. I just don’t know if what we’re doing is right.”
“Nothing could ever be righter,” Nicoli said as he bent his head and softly kissed Shar as if she was treasured and precious.
Coming up for air after that kiss, Shar was a little disoriented and confused. Did he love her? Was he good for her? Was she just being a worrywart? She lightly punched Nicoli’s shoulder as she said, “I just better not catch you with that woman again. That’s all I’m saying.”
He put an arm around her as they continued their journey. He asked, “So have you decided to take the gig so we can earn some money for our future?”
She shook her head. “I will go back to that nightclub this week, but I’m sending all that money to my family.” She wanted to add that she wasn’t leaving any money behind because Nicoli would just gamble it away but kept that part to herself.
Although Shar was hesitant to admit it, she actually enjoyed herself at the nightclub the second and third night. But on the fourth night, she snapped back to reality as Lucy walked into the club and started whispering in Nicoli’s ear again. Shar was on the stage singing a Billie Holiday song, “These Foolish Things.”
She tried to finish her song without bursting into tears, but it was becoming too much for her to bear as she watched the loose woman climb on Nicoli’s lap, put her arms around his neck, and kiss him like he belonged to her. Shar’s heart felt like it wanted to stop right then and there. So she had to turn away from Nicoli in order to press on and finish the song even as tears rolled down her foolish face.
When her set was over, she got off the stage, determined that this was the last time Nicoli would make a fool out of her. She saw him for who and what he was. He didn’t mean her a bit of good and couldn’t hold onto a promise if his life depended on it. Wiping the tears from her face, she was getting ready to confront Nicoli, but then she noticed that he was no longer in his seat. Instead of worrying herself about him, she went straight to Mr. Marson and stuck out her hand. “Can I have my money now? I’m leaving.”
“I thought you liked it here?” Marson asked.
“It’s just time for me to go.” What was wrong with her? How had she gotten so comfortable in this place?
“I gave your money to your manager.”
She turned and looked for the tip jar on the piano. Every other night, she’d had a couple of dollars in that jar once she’d finished singing. Tonight it was empty. “Why’d you give him my money? I was planning on sending it to my mama.”
Marson lifted his hands, indicating that her problem wasn’t his problem. “I’m not no referee. The man said he was your manager so I gave him the money. If you want it, go get it from him.”
Shar wasn’t about to stand there arguing with a big burly man like Mr. Marson. If Nicoli had money in his pocket, then Shar knew exactly where he had taken off to. She grabbed her handbag out of the dressing room and then headed out of the back door. The darkness of the alley made her hesitate, but then she heard the voices of rabble-rousers and started walking in the direction of the noise. As she rounded the corner, she came upon four men hunched over. Nicoli had just shot the dice, and he popped his finger as the dice rolled onto the ground.
“Nicoli.” Shar yelled his name, not even surprised at where she’d found this promise-breaker.
Nicoli turned to face her. He pointed at the door. “Get back in that club. You ain’t got no business back here.”
Holding out her hand, Shar said, “Just give me my money so I can go.”
“Look at you, acting like you’re the only one working in that club. Who do you think got you that gig?”
“I don’t want to hear it, Nicoli. Give me my money so I can get away from you and your lying, cheating ways.”
Grabbing her arm, he said, “All of this nagging you do is getting old.”
She snatched away from him. “Just give me my money so I can go.”
“Go on and give the girl her money and let’s get back to the game already,” one of the men said.
“Mind your business,” Nicoli yelled over his shoulder.
With one hand on her hip, Shar kept her hand stuck out, letting Nicoli know that she wasn’t in the mood for no discussions.
Nicoli went into his pocket, pulled out ten dollars, and handed it to Shar.
She looked at it. “This is not the right amount. I earned at least forty dollars plus tips this week. Where’s the rest of the money?”
“Takes money to make money. I’ve been out here trying to double it for us.”
“I never asked you to double my money. I asked you to stop gambling, drinking, and cheating.” Shar was so angry she wanted to spit. Instead she blew out a frustrated sigh as she stomped her foot, then rolled her eyes to high heaven and started making her way out of the alley.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Away from you,” she hollered back.
“Okay, I get it. You’re angry. Go home and cool off. You’ll be back once you think about how much money we can make together.”
She didn’t respond. Just kept walking. A woman could only play the fool for so long. And this was it for Shar. She was tired of crying and arguing with Nicoli. She made her way out of that alley without looking back. She couldn’t bear to see him bent over, throwing those dice onto the ground one more time.
Her head was all messed up and jumbled with the things she’d seen and done since leaving home. Her mind drifted back to United Worship, thinking about the time she sat in the pews listening as Landon preached about Better Days. She wondered if he still believed in the messages he preached. She wanted to believe . . . wanted to hold onto some part of what used to mean something to her.
But she couldn’t ponder on it for long, because in the darkness of the night, Shar lost her footing and scraped her knee as she fell onto the dirt path. Getting up, she dusted herself off and then turned this way and that. Her mind was running a mile a minute as she tried to figure if she’d made a wrong turn when she’d left the club by way of the alley.
All Shar could think to do was to keep walking until she ran into something that was familiar to her, but then it started raining. She stopped walking, lifted her head toward heaven, and asked, “Really? Do you really have to rain right now?” She looked around again, trying to figure out the best way to get back to the farm. But it was dark, and the rain was disorienting her.
Standing on the corner as thick raindrops plopped on her head, totally ruining the press and curl job she’d scraped up the money to get done a few days ago. Shar was having a hard time making her way, but she knew she couldn’t just stand in the rain all night, so she clutched her handbag to her chest and got back to walking, hoping that she was going in the right direction.
She heard footsteps behind her and tried to hurry along, while trying to figure out which way she needed to go. The footsteps became louder and faster. For fear that someone from that alley had followed her out of the club looking to fulfill evil intentions, she started running. When the person behind her picked up the pace as well, Shar screamed.
She looked around hoping to find someone to help her, but the rain had probably driven most of the residents inside because the street was empty. But that didn’t stop her from crying out, “Help, help.”
A hand wrapped around her mouth. She bit down on it and kept screaming.
“Shut up,” the man hollered as he reached for her handbag.
He’s going to rob me. No, dear Lord, don’t let him take my money. Didn’t Nicoli already steal enough of it. “No, leave me alone.” Shar tried to yank her handbag out of his grasp, determined to hold onto the little bit she had to contribute to her mama’s care.
“Let it go.”
“No.” Shar didn’t know if she was emboldened by the rain or if she simply didn’t want to lose one more thing that night, but she took her fist and swung at the man as she once again tried to yank her handbag strap out of his hand.
The guy ducked out of the way of her fist and then pulled on the bag again. When Shar wouldn’t release it, he picked up a rock and smashed her in the head with it. She released the handbag, and as she fell to the ground and began slipping into total darkness, Shar wasn’t seeing no better days ahead, only fleeting hope and utter despair.