“You look like Clark Gable. Do you know that? Hey, bartender, get a drink for the movie star here.”
I stumble towards the bar, he gently takes my arm to steady me and whispers in my ear, “You sing like an angel.”
“Oh you liked it? Well in that case, bartender, two drinks!” I take out a cigarette, he gives me a light, my eyes steady on him a little, his olive skin, thin mustache and gentle brown eyes. I wonder how much money he’ll leave me. He takes his drink and pushes mine aside. “Who you think you saving that for?” I slide it back to me.
“You’ve had enough already.” His broad shoulders block me; I place my palms on his chest.
“Why you doing that?” I take his drink from his hand and head toward the stairs. I glance behind my shoulder.
“Where are you going?” He wipes his forehead with his handkerchief. I lift my dress slowly as I walk up the stairs, feeling his eyes on the back of my legs, my thighs. He follows me into the room. The band starts the second set, the crowd swings to the beat.
I sit on the edge of the bed: cigarette in one hand, drink in the other. “So, what will it be?”
“What do you mean?” He is dumbfounded. It must be his first time, I have to spell it out for him.
“How do you want it?” I finish my drink. What does this man want? This is going to be a long night.
“I don’t even know your name.” Name? Name? What does my name have to do with anything? I’m gonna need another drink to get through this one. I plaster on a smile.
“Coy, hard to get? You seem that type.” I put out my cigarette.
“There seems to be a misunderstanding.” He stands in front of me. Should I yell for Eva? Is this guy up to no good? “What’s your name, darling?”
“Darling?” I wait for him to make a move, he doesn’t.
“Yes, darling, what’s your name?”
Something catches in my throat. “Deliah.”
“Deliah, I’m taking you away from this place.” He’s trying to blow my cover, I can’t look at his face. Now he knows my name, how do I play this one?
“Why?” His shoes are shiny brown leather, with short laces. They are respectable shoes that only a respectable man wears. What on earth does he want with me?
“You are too good for this, come on now.” He takes my arm and leads me out the door. Maybe this man really is Clark Gable. He navigates us through the dance floor, moving in between dancing couples, not missing a syncopated beat.
It’s misty outside, I feel dizzy, his arms anchor me as we walk to his car. He opens the door for me. I obediently get in, wait a minute what am I doing? He starts the car. I touch his hand—“Wait, what’s your name?”
“Batch.”
“Batch?”
“Yes.”
“Batch, where are you taking me?”
“Home, darling, I’m taking you home. Where is it?” I give him my address and he speeds down the street. Why is he going so fast? I haven’t cleaned the place in months, and the children, who knows what they’ll be into. Shame creeps over me.
He parks the car on the side of the road and lights a cigarette. “You no longer have to do that anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m here now. I’m going to take care of you.”
I drop my head into my hands.
“What, what’s wrong?” He touches my back.
“I’m a damn mess, a mess!” I start pulling at my hair.
“Shh, shh, I’m here now.”
“You can’t come up, the children … the place …” He hands me a handkerchief. I dry my eyes.
“I’ll come by in the morning to check on you. Okay, Deliah?”
Is he for real? Maybe I drank too much. He walks around the car, opens the door for me and takes my hand like I’m Queen Victoria. Hah! He’s bluffing, what angle is he playing? He doesn’t kiss me goodnight. He waits until I walk up the steps to my door, tips his hat and gets in his car. I wave as it glides down the wet street and turns the corner.