Dollface: A Novel of the Roaring Twenties (17 page)

“I had to.” She blew her nose carefully, so as not to bump her swollen cheek. “I told my sister Reba about Izzy and she went and told my parents.” Evelyn brought her hand to her bruised cheek. “They said they needed to meet him—” She choked on a fresh round of tears. “My father said Izzy was no good. Said he was to blame for me cutting my hair and dressing like a vamp. I don’t dress like a vamp, do I?”

“No, not at all. You’re right in style. Your father doesn’t appreciate fashion, is all.”

“He said I couldn’t see Izzy anymore, and that if I did, not to bother coming home again.”

“Oh, no. So you broke it off with Izzy?”

“No.” She wiped her hand across her nose. “I left. I said good-bye to my mother and I left with Izzy. We’re walking out the door and my father calls after me, telling me I’m dead to him, and starts reciting the mourner’s kaddish. I feel like I’ve been disowned.”

“Oh, Ev . . .” I couldn’t make her see that Izzy wasn’t worth it. I’d heard him call her names, and I’d seen him gawk at other women, even in front of Evelyn. She’d pretend not to notice, and it drove me crazy.

Evelyn blew her nose again and shook her head. “After we left—that’s when Izzy went nuts. He started hollering and then . . . I don’t know what happened. He just snapped and then he hit me.”

“I’ll kill him. I swear I will.”

“No, Vera.” Evelyn shook her head. “It’s okay. I just . . . It was my fault.”

“How was this possibly
your
fault?”

“He didn’t want to meet my parents. He told me he didn’t want to go but I made him. I begged him to.”

I put my arm around her and hugged her to my side. “Ah, Evelyn, you have to stop doing this to yourself.”

“Doing what?” She sniffled.

I turned and brushed her hair aside, careful of her bruise as I tucked a lock behind her ear. “You always take the blame for everyone else.”

“No, I don’t. Not really.”

“C’mon, Ev.” I gave her a look and cocked my eyebrow. “You took the blame for every one of your sisters. Reba left the bathroom a mess and you said you did it. Marlene left dirty dishes in the sink and you’d say it was you. Why did you always do that? Was that just so they’d let you tag along with them?”

“I didn’t
always
do that. Not
always
 . . .”

“You even did it with me. You always took the heat. Remember the time we got caught sneaking into the movie house? Or what about the time we got caught pinching lipsticks from the five-and-dime? I talked you into it and you said it was all your idea.”

“I just . . .” Even she couldn’t explain it.

“And now here you are again, blaming yourself for the way Izzy treats you. Don’t you see? You deserve so much better.”

She hung her head and started to cry.

Was this the price for a lifetime of hand-me-downs, of watching her older sisters get the new dresses and toys? It was her sisters whose piano and dance recitals her parents attended, not Evelyn’s. It wasn’t that her parents didn’t love Evelyn, but after already raising four daughters, it seemed as if Mr. and Mrs. Schulman were just plain tired by the time she came around. She once told me that the only thing she ever had that was brand-new was her bicycle. I could still picture it parked on their front lawn next to the four others belonging to her older sisters.

Evelyn wiped her nose with her sleeve and sniffled some more. “I don’t know what gets into Izzy sometimes. You’ve heard the things he says to me. But then, you know, when it’s just the two of us, he’s real sweet. He tells me I’m pretty. And he doesn’t even mind that my chest is so big.” She sniffled some more. “But when we’re around other people he thinks he’s a big shot if he can boss me around and make me look like a fool.”

“He’s a snake. You could do a lot better for yourself than Izzy Seltzer.”

“But I love him. You don’t understand—I really do love him!”

“This isn’t love, Evelyn.”

•   •   •

I
stayed with Evelyn until she had fallen asleep and as soon as she was out, I headed over to the Meridian in search of Izzy.

When I walked inside the club, the driving beat of the Stompin’ Juniors had the dance floor packed. Shep was seated at the end of the bar, nursing his whiskey, looking over the place.

“Dollface!” He lit up when he saw me, and kissed my cheek. “This is a nice surprise. I thought you were going to the movie house with Evelyn.”

“Change of plans.” I set my pocketbook on the bar. “Is Izzy around?”

“Izzy? Yeah, he’s here somewhere. Hey,” Shep called to the barkeeper. “Let’s get a bourbon over here for my gal.” He smiled, pulled out the stool next to him and gave it a pat.

I sat down and scanned the floor for Izzy. Table lamps glowed from all corners of the room. A couple seated up front swayed in time with the music, while a raucous party of four next to them clinked their glasses in a group toast.

Shep said something while I absentmindedly glanced at the square containers behind the bar filled with olives, syrupy maraschino cherries, lemon and lime wedges. Glasses resting upside down were lined up two rows deep. The bartender smiled, making a show of pouring a thin stream of amber liquor into a lowball glass for me.

“Hey,” Shep said, placing his hand on my arm, “I asked if you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I had just spotted Izzy standing off to the side, talking to a blonde with a violet feather headdress protruding from her hair. The bartender had barely set my glass down before I grabbed it and took a big, burning gulp.

“What’s the matter with you?” Shep asked. “You seem upset.”

“What’s he doing over there?” I gestured toward Izzy. He was sliding his fingers up and down the blonde’s arm.

“Aw, just ignore him.”

I took another pull from my drink. “Evelyn should keep him on a leash like the dog that he is.”

“She’s just a girl from the club. She doesn’t mean anything. You know how Izzy is.”

I kept my attention on my drink and as soon as Shep got called away to the back room, I went over to Izzy and the blonde.

I tapped him on the shoulder. “Can I have a word with you?”

Izzy motioned to the blonde. “Give me a minute, will ya, hon?”

She wasn’t out of earshot before I lashed into him. “What do you think you’re doing? You slap Evelyn around and then start snuggling up to someone else?”

“Whoa—take it easy. Just slow down. What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. And if you ever lay a hand on Evelyn again, I swear, I’ll kill you.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions here. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never slapped Evelyn.”

“There’s no point in denying it. You should see her face! I know all about you, Izzy.”

His eyes turned to narrow beams and I saw something cold and mean and evil lurking inside. With a smirk he said, “Well, I guess I could say the same about you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” He stepped closer to me and it took all my will not to retreat. I could smell the cigarettes and whiskey on his breath. My pulse was doing double time. “You may have Shep wrapped around your little finger, but you don’t fool me for a minute. I know all about you, Vera. So if I were you, I’d watch my step.”

I forced myself to meet his gaze, not to flinch or back down. He didn’t know anything about Tony. He had to be bluffing. Wasn’t he?

We were at a standoff. Izzy wasn’t about to crack.

Finally, I mustered the words, barely managing to keep my voice even. “Don’t threaten me, Izzy.”

“Then don’t push me and we’ll get along just fine.”

I turned and walked away, the clicking of my heels sounding off as I stormed the stairs and headed for the ladies’ lounge. My heart was racing and I’d broken out in a cold sweat. I splashed water on my face and sat on the bench in the corner smoking a cigarette, one deep puff after another. Each time the door opened, my insides jumped. It took another cigarette and another ten minutes before my pulse settled down and I was able to go back downstairs and face Shep.

JUST LIKE NORMAL

D
id Izzy have anything on me? I doubted it. Tony and I had spent most of our time in his hotel room. When we did go out, it was always on the south side of town. And after I’d started dating Shep again, we were always discreet. But still, the threat of Izzy lingered. I couldn’t forget him saying,
“I know all about you, Vera. So if I were you, I’d watch my step.”
His words were circling inside my head just as Shep called to me from the other room.

“You’re not using my razor again, are you?”

“Um . . . what? I can’t hear you.” I was in the bathroom and could hear him perfectly well, but it was too late. I was already shaving my legs in the sink. After I ran his razor under the tap and wiped the blade dry, I switched legs. It was getting harder and harder to lift my foot to the ledge of the sink now that my belly was ripening.

When I was finished, I went into the bedroom and found Shep standing in his BVDs with sock garters hugging his calves. He held up a towel. “How many times do I have to tell you not to leave your wet towels lying around on the furniture?”

I lowered my head and raised my eyes. “Where’d I leave that one?”

“On the bed.”

I went over and took the towel from him. “Oh, it’s not even wet.”

“It’s damp. And you left it on a silk bedcover. How hard can it be to hang it up when you’re done with it?” He grabbed the towel from my hand, ratted it up, and gave me a playful snap along my bottom.

“You think I’m a slob, don’t you?”

“Oh, I
know
you’re a slob.” He laughed and snapped the towel at me again as I darted to the closet.

Sorting through my clothes, scooting hangers this way and that, I muttered, “Where is that dress . . . ? I just saw it. . . .”

“I don’t know how you expect to find anything in there.” Shep pulled a pair of trousers from under the mattress and stepped into them, hoisting them onto his hips. He always kept his pants there overnight so they’d be nice and creased for him the next day.

I turned back to the closet. You could tell which half belonged to Shep. His shirts and trousers, suits and neckties were hanging straight and neat, all hangers going in the same direction, shoes lined up on the floor, standing two by two. My half was packed with skirts and dresses jutting out. My high heels were kicked off all over the place, wadded-up stockings here and there, a hat or two that had toppled off the shelf that I’d never bothered to pick up.

Shep went into the bathroom and a few minutes later he marched back in with his razor in his hand and two scraps of blood-soaked toilet paper stuck to his chin. “I don’t believe it! You did it! You used my razor again.”

“Aw, Sheppy, it was just a quick touchup.” I looked at his chin and frowned. “And, c’mon, you want me to look nice tonight, don’t you?”

We were having dinner that evening with my friend from the rooming house and her husband. I had run into Barbara Lewis—Barbara Perl now—the week before on Chicago Avenue. She was on her way to a meeting for the Jewish Women’s Council.

“It’s a wonderful group of women,” she said. “You’d really like these girls. Harriet Wagner is a member, too. You should come join us sometime. We meet every week.” She said they worked for various Jewish charities, sponsored luncheons and held fund-raisers. It sounded mildly interesting, and I thought it would be a nice break from all the lunching and shopping I’d been doing with Dora and Basha.

Barbara and I had stood outside for the better part of twenty minutes, catching up. When I told her I was pregnant, she hugged me, congratulated me, and asked how far along I was.

“Just four months,” I said, wondering if she’d figured out that I was already pregnant at my wedding.

“Well,” she said, “we need to go out and celebrate. I know Monty would love to see you and he never really did get a chance to know Shep.”

So we set a date for the following Saturday evening. Just the four of us.

We met at a quaint restaurant on the near north side. It was small, with just a dozen or so tables. The specialty of the house was leg of lamb served with mint jelly.

Monty and Shep hit it off just swell.

“Barbara,” Monty said, turning to her as he chomped on a bread stick, “you didn’t tell me Shep here owns the Meridian.”

“That was my fault,” I said, ducking my head playfully. “I don’t think I mentioned it.”

Monty had a few crumbs stuck in his mustache and Barbara reached over to casually brush them away while he kept talking. “You get some big names in there. Al Jolson, Louis Armstrong.”

Shep raised his martini. “Anytime you want to see a show, just say the word.”

“Frankly,” said Monty, “I’d rather get in there to show you
my
act. I’m in restaurant supply sales.”

“Vera,” Shep said, turning to me, “you didn’t tell me that.”

“Guilty again.” I shrugged.

“I can always use glasses and table linens. Why don’t you come by the club this week?”

“I’ll give you the friends and family discount,” Monty said with a wink.

While the men discussed business, Barbara told me a bit more about her women’s group. “Promise me you’ll come to our next meeting.”

“Okay, I promise. And I’ll try to bring Evelyn along, too.”

By the time the main course was served, it seemed like the men had been friends forever. And I could tell Barbara adored Shep. She flashed her gap-toothed smile, asking him about all the celebrities he’d met.

“What about Sophie Tucker? What’s she really like?” Barbara asked, leaning in on her chair.

“Just as risqué offstage as she is on,” he said. “Just ask Vera.”

“You met her, too?” Barbara grabbed my wrist.

“She’s a pip, all right,” I said. “Who would have thought she’s just a nice Jewish girl under it all?”

We laughed, and when Shep slid his arm around the back of my chair, I placed my hand over my swelling belly and smiled. I was married and pregnant and just plain happy, like I’d planned it this way all along. Shep and I could have been any normal married couple out with our friends on a Saturday night.