18. Auditions

They were halfway up the coast to Santa Barbara before Diana found the voice and the nerve to say out loud, “Casey, I have a bad feeling about this.”

Casey patted her knee. “You’ll be great. And besides, it’s only an audition.”

“I’ve got the jitters,” she said. “My voice is going to croak. I’ll sound like a frog. Or what if nothing comes out? What if I open my mouth and there’s nothing there?”

“Diana, relax. Just relax. Sing for the fun of it and you’ll sound like a lark.”

“Besides,” Diana mumbled.

Casey switched lanes to allow a loud truck to roar by. When quiet returned, he said, “Besides what?”

“Just…oh, I don’t know. Forget it.”

“Besides what, Diana? Speak up.”

She took a deep breath. “I look like a frump, some left-over hippie, in this stupid yellow tee shirt. He’s going to think I’m boring. Hell. I am boring. This dumb tee shirt is the sexiest garment in my wardrobe. Stop smiling at me. Are you laughing at me, Casey?”

“I’m going to buy you a clingy red satin dress, with a plunging neckline, to go with your clear, commanding voice and your come-hither smiling eyes.”

“I can’t afford fancy clothes, Casey. I’m dirt poor. He’s going to hate me, this Sidney Mitchell maestro.”

“The clothes are on me, Diana.”

She laughed. “I can just see you in a red satin dress, Casey. You’ll knock them dead.”

Casey said, “I mean I’ll pay for your new wardrobe. I’m bankrolling this adventure till we start earning steady money. Meanwhile I can afford it. Karen and Nellie each paid me a thousand dollars a month for nine months, so I’m loaded. I’ll pay the rent, the groceries—”

“Stop talking like it’s a done deal,” Diana said. “This is just an audition. Besides.”

“Besides what?”

Diana sighed. “Never mind. Santa Barbara, here we come. Where’s this Café Rouge anyway?”

“Montecito. Next exit, Hot Springs Road. Santa Barbara, get ready for the amazing Miss Diana Pearson!”

“Oh, blow it out your ass, Casey,” Diana responded, but she said it with a big fat smile she couldn’t repress.

———

It was the custom of the yellow people at Hope Springs to fend for themselves in the kitchen. Diana made dinner for the whole community every night but Sunday, but the Yellows put together their own breakfasts and lunches. But it was also the custom that Diana seemed always to be there in the kitchen at breakfast time and lunch time, ready and happy to fix anybody who wanted it some scrambled eggs or a grilled cheese sandwich.

So, because Casey had whisked Diana away for the day, Karen felt obliged to fill in for her at lunchtime. Karen’s repertoire in the kitchen amounted to a bowl of granola and a peanut butter sandwich, but she kept herself busy cleaning the twelve-burner stove, just in case anybody asked to be fed. Finished with the stove, she was in the pantry, thinking about supper and taking stock of the supplies, when she heard the faint ding of the call bell in the lobby.

She walked into the kitchen and started toward the front, but stopped when she heard footsteps in the long hallway. She waited for whoever it was to reach the dining room.

In walked someone she had never met before, a woman in jeans and a chambray work shirt, with a tan and happy face all weathered and lined. A strong woman, a bit older than Karen, who seemed to be at ease with whatever came next. It took only one glance for Karen to know all that. The woman held out her hand.

Karen ignored the woman’s hand and dove into the arms of the man beside her. Nqong’s embrace was happy and warm. Warm from the summer day outside, warm with the love Nqong brought home to her.

“You old pollywog,” Karen said, out of his arms and wiping her tears with her bandanna, “where in the hell have you been?”

Nqong shook his head and grinned. He opened his mouth but words didn’t come out.

“‘The hell’ is right,” said Nqong’s companion. “This man has been in oil country, in Maricopa County. He barely survived, and he narrowly escaped. Hi. I’m Tillie, by the way.”

The woman named Tillie held out her hand again, and this time Karen took it and held it warmly. “My name is Karen Hope. I live here. Thank you, Tillie, for bringing home our dear teacher, our friend, the bringer of beetles, and the master of our water. You have no idea how we’ve missed this rascal.”

“My pleasure, and I can guess how much he means to you. I’ve known Nqong—so that’s how you pronounce his name?—less than a week, and I’m already in love with him. I hope that’s not a problem.”

Karen glanced at her old black friend, who was still holding his grin and his silence. She turned back to Tillie and replied, “I know how you feel. I’ve loved Nqong for years. Are you hungry? Can I fix you a peanut butter sandwich?”

Nqong said, “Karen.”

“Nqong?”

“Show Tillie the kitchen. Let her make lunch.”

———

Sidney Mitchell wore a smile that Diana imagined had been manufactured in New Jersey. He greeted Casey with a hug and a laugh, and he was an instant flirt with Diana. “Casey tells me you are some fine girl singer,” he told her. He looked her over, up and down. “I can see why he likes you. You’ve got what it takes!”

“You haven’t heard me sing yet,” Diana pointed out.

“Right you are, young lady. Right you are. Casey tells me you’re a regular nightingale, but then I expect he’s prejudiced and I can see why! Huh? I can see why.” That smile again. Actually, it wasn’t a bad smile. Okay. “Okay,” Sidney said. “Go on over to the piano, you two, and give me a couple of numbers.”

Casey held her cold hand and led her to the grand piano. While he played a few warm-up scales and tried out a few chord changes, Diana looked around the vast cocktail lounge called the Café Rouge. The room was dark, and the tables and bar were empty, except for Sid, who strolled to a table toward the back of the room, sat down, and called out, “Fire when ready!”

Casey hit the first chord of the song they had agreed to open with, and Diana took a deep breath. She opened her mouth to sing the first line a capella, as they had always started the song.

No sound came out. She cleared her throat.

Casey hit the chord again, softer this time.

Diana tried again: “I could cry, salty tears—”

“Wait,” Casey said. “Louder, Diana. Sell it.”

Diana nodded. Swallowed. Trembled.

Chord.

“I could cry, salty tears. Where have I been—”

“I’m not hearing you, sweetheart,” Sid called from the back of the dark room. He stood up and approached the performers. “I know it’s hard singing to an empty room. It’s like an echo chamber with no echo. No energy back. So pretend you’re singing this ballad to a room full of men and women, all of whom are ready to love you to pieces.” Sid sat down. “Take three. Go.”

Casey’s chord.

Diana waved for silence. She told Sid, and she told Casey, “I don’t think I can do this. I can’t get started.”

Sid Mitchell’s teeth seemed to shine in the dark. “Wonderful tune! One of my faves. Okay, sweetheart, sing that one, and sing it to Casey. Look at me, I’m your audience, but think about Casey while you sell the song. Pretend you love him, really love him. Not all that hard to do, right? Right?”

Diana nodded. Casey gave her a middle C.

“I’ve flown around the world in a plane.…” As the song left her mouth, note after clear note, Diana thought about her lover, her piano man, and she felt her voice get stronger and sadder and smarter and more her own. But it was still soft.

When the song ended, she bowed to her audience of one, who was smiling back at her and clapping his hands. “God, you’re great! You too, Casey, but it’s Diane here who’s going to bring in the repeat customers.”

“Diana.”

“Huh?”

“My name’s Diana, ending on an A-flat. Mr. Mitchell—”

“Sid, honey. Call me Sid. Let’s be friends here.”

Diana tried again. “Sid, the thing is, I’ll never be able to sing to this room, especially when there are people in here, talking to each other, rattling their ice cubes, calling out their orders to the cocktail waitress. I’ve never tried to sell a song to an audience, and it turns out I have a soft voice.”

“You’ll have a microphone,” Sid told her.

“I don’t know about that. I’ve never used a microphone. Well, maybe once or twice in a piano bar, but really, I don’t know how.”

Sid leaned back in his chair and scratched his jaw. “Okay,” he said. “So maybe we got a problem, but maybe we don’t. Let’s try you out tonight. I expect the room will be about half full. I’ll get the word out to people who matter. You be here at nine o’clock, and I’ll supply the mike. Try it out. If you can handle it, I want to give you two the gig. If it doesn’t work out, well, it doesn’t work out, no problemo. So tell me, what are you going to wear, sweetheart?”

“I’m taking care of that, Sid,” Casey said.

Sid laughed out loud. “Casey, buddy, I love you to death, but nobody has ever accused you of having any taste whatsoever in clothes. I don’t care what you wear, but I want this girl singer to knock them dead.”

Casey stood up from the piano bench, smiled at Diana, smiled at Sid, and told them both what nobody in the entertainment industry can stand to hear: “Trust me.”

———

At two o’clock that afternoon Karen rang the triangle out on the verandah, and within five minutes, the entire community of yellow people were gathered in the library, sitting in their large circle on the Persian carpet, holding hands in meditation. Tillie was a link in the flow of energy, sitting between Karen and Nqong. She didn’t know exactly what to think of this meditation mumbo-jumbo, but they seemed like decent people, these odd folk who had welcomed her into their meeting.

A squeeze of hands worked its way around the circle, and the meditation was over. Karen spoke. “Friends, we have Nqong back.” The Yellows hummed together to express their joy. “We can thank our friend Tillie here for bringing him back. Tillie, welcome to our home, thank you for that delicious lunch, and you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Beyond that, I don’t know much about you. Would you care to introduce yourself to us?”

Tilly nodded and smiled. “Hi,” she said. “My name’s Matilda, and people mostly call me Tillie, at least to my face. I’ve had a bunch of last names, thanks to a series of short marriages, but the name I was given at birth was Matilda Springer, so I like to call myself Tillie Springer. I’m not named after a bug, or after a spring. You think I’m making this up, but I’m not. There’s a lot of magic about this place. I grew up in Anacapa County, and I’ve known about Hope Springs all my life, although all I knew was a bunch of wild tales of years gone by. Movie stars, and like that. Anyway, besides being married a number of times, I’ve also been a cook in any number of jobs, and I’m hoping to find a position cooking for some diner or restaurant in nearby Tecolote. I should be honest with you people and let you know that I’m in love with your Nqong, and that’s why I hope you’ll let me live here with you all if I can find a job in town. I should tell you that I use rough language sometimes, rudeness pisses me off, and I smoke cigarettes; but I understand that if I’m allowed to stay I’ll do all my smoking on the smoking bridge, and I can’t imagine any of you gentle people will turn out to be rude. I don’t own any yellow clothes, and I don’t think yellow’s my color, but I’m willing to give it a try. Since I’m sitting cross-legged on my ass, I don’t see any need to get down on bended knee, but I do hope you’ll let me stay here with you. I like this place. I even like the way it smells.”

Karen said, “Thank you, Tillie. Well, friends, I’d like to welcome Tillie to our family. Does anybody have any objection?”

No one raised a hand.

“I’m glad,” Karen said, “because I’ve already offered the carriage house to Tillie and Nqong.”

“You mean Nqong’s going to live down here in the valley?” Emily asked. “That would be so cool!”

Nqong held up his hand to speak, and the murmur of excitement turned to expectant silence.

“I’m an old man now, my friends,” he said, “but Tillie has made me feel younger than I felt when I was young. Yes, I want to live down here among you, down in Hope Springs Valley. I’m tired of living alone, and I’m getting too ancient to climb the mountain. Yes, Theresa?”

“I’m glad you’ll be down here among us, Nqong, but what about our water? Are we never going to have hot water in the baths again?”

Nqong looked from Theresa to Herbert and said, “Herbert, would you be willing to take over for me? You’ve always shown an interest in the waterworks. I could teach you all there is to know this afternoon. You wouldn’t have to live up there in the water house. The water only needs adjusting once a week unless the weather changes suddenly, and even then the temperature of the water will stay constant for a few days. Herbert?”

Herbert grinned. “Count me in!”

Nqong smiled. “Then let’s hike up the mountain this afternoon, so I can teach you how to turn on that water. I understand the baths have been cold since I went away. I can teach you in one hour all you’ll need to know to make them hot again.”

“I’m your man,” Herbert answered. “Your water man.”

“What about Casey and Diana?” Beatrice asked. “Have they left us for good?”

Karen said, “Casey has left us, I’m afraid. He stayed with us for nine months, which is a long time for a piano player to spend in one spot.”

“And Diana?” Nels asked.

“I don’t know,” Karen answered. “She will be back tomorrow, but it may be just to pick up her stuff. She’s auditioning for a job as a singer. They may turn her down, or she may turn them down. If that happens, she’ll be back. She and Casey may find living alone together doesn’t work for them. Maybe she won’t like singing in saloons. All that smoke and all those loud drunks. Or she may love it. Whatever happens, she’ll be welcome to come back here, anytime she wants to. But if she finds a future out there in the uncivilized world, I’ll shed a tear and wish her well.”

Arthur asked, “What about dinner tonight? Are we on our own?”

Tillie held up her hand.

Karen said, “Yes, Tillie?”

“I’m not trying to compete with Diana, but I hate to think about people missing supper. I understand you folks are vegetarian? I can handle that. Let’s go see what we have in the larder. We’ll take it from there.”

———

Late that afternoon, Diana telephoned Hope Springs from the phone booth in the lobby of the Schooner Inn, a hotel on lower State Street, in downtown Santa Barbara. Karen answered, and Diana told her, “Karen, I won’t be back in time to make dinner tonight. I’m so sorry!”

Karen said, “You don’t have to worry about that, honey. We’ve got it covered.”

“Oh?”

“It’s a long story. Diana, how are you doing? Did the audition go well?”

“I got a new dress! Red.”

“So you got the gig?”

“I don’t know for sure.”

“Do you want the gig, Diana?”

“Karen, what do you think I should do?”

“Go for it, girl. Go for it.”

“I don’t want to leave you in the lurch. Shouldn’t I come back where I belong?”

“You are where you belong,” Karen said.

“But what about Hope Springs? So who will cook?”

“Sing, Diana. We’re not your problem. In fact, don’t worry about us. We don’t have a problem. As I said, we’re covered, for now.”

“You don’t want me to come back?”

“Diana, nobody can cook like you do. I know that. But I also know that nobody can sing the way you do. If the singing doesn’t work out, we’ll all welcome you back to Hope Springs. But for now, you need to give yourself a chance to sing for your supper. And you’ll be with the man you love. The whole community is rooting for you. We all want you and Casey to make it big!”

“Okay,” Diana replied in a tiny voice.

She was still weeping when she reached the third floor of the Schooner Inn, where she found Casey standing at the window, looking out toward the sea. He turned and said, “How did that go? Baby, you’re crying! What’s up?”

Diana shook her head, ducked into the bathroom, grabbed a wad of toilet paper, and blew her nose.

Casey came up behind her, put his arms around her, and whispered, “What?”

“They don’t need me anymore,” she whimpered.

“Well, that’s a relief, isn’t it? Isn’t that what you were worried about?”

“But it would be nice to at least believe I was needed. Casey, you know me. You know I need to know I’m needed. I realize that’s fucked up, but—”

“Diana, I need you.”

“I know, but that’s just so you can play this gig. You don’t need me. You just need a girl singer. What happens when this gig is over? Because it will end, Casey. No gig is forever.”

Casey led her back into the bedroom, where they sat side by side on the edge of the bed. Casey said, “Look at me.”

She looked. Casey was smiling. Damn it, smiling.

“I will never stop needing you, Diana.”

“Never?” She noticed for the first time how blue, how very, very blue, deep, true blue his eyes were.

“Never.”

———

That evening at nine o’clock, in Santa Barbara’s Café Rouge, the new blond singer stood up tall in her new red silk dress. She leaned against the piano, a microphone in her hand and a smile on her face. She discovered she could do this. And she was good at it. She delivered song after song to a room half full of hushed listeners. More and more people drifted into the lounge and quietly took seats and gazed and listened to this new star, who could belt them out like Judy, could bare her soul like Billie, could even improvise like Ella. The more she sang, the more confidence she wielded, and she sang directly to each and every new fan in the room, including and especially that man in the back of the room, that slick Sidney Mitchell, with his big bright teeth shining from the dark as he smiled and nodded, clapped, and raised a thumb to her.

Diana knew she had the audience and she knew she had the gig. Just as she knew she had a piano player and a lover. She had found her life’s work.

———

That same evening at nine o’clock, in the bathhouse at Hope Springs, the yellow people sat and sighed in their hot water again. After a long soak, they rose naked from the water, one by one, dried off and put on robes, and left the bathhouse, after thanking Tillie for a tasty dinner and thanking Nqong for bringing himself, hot water, and joy back to Hope Springs. Young Emily, the last of the staff to say goodnight, knelt in the water and kissed Karen on the cheek, then Tillie on the forehead, and then Nqong on the mouth. The third kiss lasted the longest.

When Emily had left, and the only ones remaining in the bathhouse were the oldest three members of the community, Tillie asked Karen, “Is that young thing somebody I’m going to have to feel jealous about?”

“Not to worry,” Karen assured her. “That’s just Emily.”

“Well, that’s a relief, I guess. How you doing there, Nqong? Been a long, hot day, huh?”

Nqong slowly rose, stretched, and yawned. “I took my last hike up that mountainside this afternoon. Herbert now understands the waterworks. I taught him about caring for the beetles, too, and he says he’ll do that, although he and I both suspect the little blighters can make it without our help. Herbert respects them as I do, and he loves you as I do, too. You’re in good hands, Karen.” He turned to Tillie, smiled, and said, “I’m in good hands, also. Now I need to sleep.” He stepped up out of the bath, dried his long body, donned his robe, and left the bathhouse.

———

Karen and Tillie sat together on the steps of the bathhouse, letting the hot night air dry their skin as they watched Nqong amble barefoot toward the carriage house. Tillie said, “He told me he’s lived in that carriage house before, while he lived down here with your community and taught you all to wear yellow.”

“And long before that, too,” Karen said. “When he was a young boy he lived there with his father and his sister. Tillie, let me say something about our Nqong.”

“Please do.”

“Our Nqong has had a rough and lonely life. He’s an ancient soul. He deserves to live the rest of his life in serenity. I think you’ll be good for him, Matilda Springer. You’ll let him be who he is and let him age at his own pace, and you’ll give him laughter and pleasure every day along the way.”

“I plan to,” Tillie answered. “I promise.”

“You’d better,” Karen said. “Nqong’s had his share of heartbreak, and I don’t want him to have any more of that for the rest of his life. You’re not a heartbreaker, are you, Tillie? I mean with all those marriages you’ve survived?”

Tillie laughed softly. “Those marriages were mistakes. They taught me what I don’t want. I’ve found what I want, and it’s here in this place, with that man and with you.”

“Because if you break that man’s heart and leave me to pick up the pieces, I’ll make you seriously regret it.”

“I can tell you love him too,” Tillie said. She put her arm around Karen’s shoulders, and Karen shuddered with pleasure. “That’s fine by me. Between the two of us, and with the help of your yellow people and his yellow beetles, I think our Nqong will have a beautiful journey into old age.”

———