The Heavenly Fugitive (14 page)

“Ask him. He won’t care,” Rosa begged, her dark eyes pleading.

Clearing his throat, Phil gave Tony a look. “Mr. Morino, would it be all right if Rosa danced with me?”

“Sure. Should get somethin’ for them expensive dance lessons I paid for.”

Phil laughed. “Well, I never had any lessons, so I’m making no promises, but come along, Rosa.”

Rosa jumped up and headed to the dance floor on Phil’s arm. When he put his arm around her waist and took her hand, she smiled up at him. “Isn’t this the cat’s pajamas?”

Phil laughed. “Where did you learn talk like that?”

“Why, that’s what all the kids are saying. Don’t they talk like that at college?”

“Not in accounting class.”

Despite his misgivings about being in a nightclub with Rosa, Phil was enjoying himself tremendously. He spoke with excitement of Amelia and how well she had done, and finally he asked, “Are you having a good time, Rosa?”

“Oh yes, the best ever!”

Then her brow furrowed. “I wish Daddy would let me date before I turn eighteen.”

“Maybe you can wheedle him down to seventeen.”

“I doubt it. He loves me so much it makes him sad to think that he’ll lose me one day.”

Phil was startled at this revelation. It brought out a side of Big Tony Morino he had not thought of. He knew Morino
was a ruthless man, but he saw a weakness here, for Rosa would not be long in finding a husband.

“But I bet you’ve had fellows who admired you.”

“They’re all afraid of Daddy.”

Surprised by her blunt honesty, Phil said, “Well, that will change.”

“I don’t know. Daddy’s very possessive of me and of Mother and of Jamie.”

“I’ve never met your brother.”

“No, he’s not allowed out much. Mother and Daddy make him stay in every afternoon to work on homework. He’s having a hard time with math in school.”

“How old is he?”

“Thirteen.”

“Well, bring him to the stable. I can take time out to help him a little bit. Math is one of my best subjects.”

Suddenly Rosa’s eyes glowed. “Are you good at English too? Would you help me with mine? I’m just horrible at it. I can’t write a bit, and I bet you’re good at it.”

“It’s not my best subject, but I’d like to help if I could to pay you back for this fine suit and this evening here at Eddie’s. You dance very well, Rosa. Better than I do.”

“No, not really.”

“Oh yes, really.”

When the two got back to the table, Rosa said, “Daddy, you know the trouble Jamie’s having with math?”

“I guess I should know it. I get enough notes from his teacher.”

“Well, I have an idea. Phil here would be a great tutor. Why, I’ll bet he could help Jamie get straight A’s.” And then she added innocently, “And he’s good at English too. He could help me with those awful themes I have to write.”

“Now wait a minute, Rosa,” Phil said. “Your father will think I’m asking for a job.”

Big Tony laughed. “Kid, if you can help my son and daughter get through school, I’ll pay through the nose.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t take any money.”

“Sure you would,” Dom said. “Always take the money, Phil. You need to learn that.”

The rest of the evening passed quickly. The high point for Phil came after Amelia sang her last popular song. She stopped and waited until the room grew still; then she spoke softly. “I wish my parents were here, but they’re not. They’re back in Africa preaching to the people there. But my brother’s here, and with your permission I’d like to sing his favorite hymn.”

She began singing “The Old Rugged Cross,” and for some reason, as always, after singing popular show tunes, the old hymns always touched her heart. Tonight, as on most nights, she could not keep the tears from her eyes. The room grew perfectly still as her clear contralto voice filled every corner. When she sang the last verse, the room was silent only for a moment and then the applause grew to a roar.

Phil felt his own eyes growing misty, and he looked over at Rosa. “She’s great at the popular songs, but that last song was my favorite.”

****

Two weeks after her opening night at Eddie’s, Amelia asked Phil to meet her for lunch at Louie’s, the little Italian restaurant where she’d had her first meal with Dom before her job at the Green Dragon. She had been feeling rather lonely lately. She had met so many people, even celebrities, yet they had not filled the void in her. Now she encouraged Phil to talk about his studies and activities. She listened with interest as he told her how he had been tutoring Rosa and James Morino.

“They’re good kids, sis, both of them.”

“Rosa’s hardly a kid. She’s growing up fast.”

“Well, she seems like a kid to me. Jamie is not at all like his father. I think he takes after his mother.”

After the meal they sat drinking coffee for a long time.
They talked about Africa, their parents, their uncle Barney, and other members of the family. Finally Amelia looked up at Phil and said, “I’ve got news for you that you probably won’t like.”

“Why wouldn’t I like it?”

Shaking her head, Amelia said quietly, “Al Jolson’s agent came to hear me sing. He wants me to meet with him. He wants me to sign a contract.”

“Well, why wouldn’t I like that, sis?”

“Because it means I’ll be more tightly bound up in the kind of work I do. I’m happy for the success I’ve had, but I feel guilty about it. You know, being the daughter of missionaries and all.” She gave Phil a teasing smile. “I guess it’s because of my repressed childhood, huh?”

Phil leaned across the small table, took her hands in his, and squeezed them. He said seriously, “Mom and Dad have prayed for you every day since you were born. They told me that.”

“But I’ve run away from all that.”

“You may be a fugitive, but you’re heaven’s fugitive. Sooner or later Jesus is going to catch up with you.”

Amelia grew very quiet, then whispered, “Heaven’s fugitive. Maybe that’s what I’ll always be.”

“No, you’ll find the Lord one day. Wait and see.”

“I hope so, Phil, but it seems unlikely.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

A Visit With Lola

Backing quickly into a corner of her dressing room, Amelia tried desperately to shove away the big man who had forced his way in. She was terrified at the reek of whiskey on his breath and his bloodshot eyes. “Get out of my dressing room,” she cried, “or I’ll scream for help.”

“Ah, come on, baby, don’t be like that. You actresses are all alike. Let’s you and me have a little lovin’.”

The big man had blunt features, and a silly smile was pasted on his face. His black hair was glued flat to his skull with macadamia oil, and his odor was rank, a mixture of raw alcohol, sweat, and worse. Her eyes went over to her purse, in which she still carried the nickel-plated thirty-eight she had brought from Africa. She could not get past the big man and began to scream, “Help! Somebody help me!”

To stop her cries he fell against her and covered her mouth with his own. Furiously Amelia resisted, but he was like a huge bear. She felt herself crushed against his chest, and she was helpless to move. Disgust washed through her as she tried to release herself. Struggling futilely, she heard the door open and Phil’s voice shouting, “Let her go!” and at the same time felt the drunk yanked off of her. She fell back against the wall as Phil flung the big man to the floor. “Get out of here,” Phil shouted, “or I’ll have you locked up!” He had placed himself between the attacker and Amelia and stood flat-footed, his eyes half closed in threat.

Cursing, the drunk staggered to his feet. He swung a
roundhouse right that would have annihilated Phil had it landed, but Phil easily jerked his head back and then shot a crushing right-hand blow straight into the man’s mouth. It drove him backward, with blood oozing from his lips. Reaching up, the man touched his bloodied mouth, blinked in confusion, and then shook his head. “You didn’t have to hit me!”

“I’ll do worse than that if you don’t get out of here!” Then Phil grabbed the man’s arm, whirled him around, and shoved him through the open door. The man windmilled out, and Phil slammed the door and locked it. He rushed over to where Amelia had slid to the floor against the wall and put his arms around her. “Are you okay, sis?”

“Yes, I’m all right. He just came barreling in here before I knew what was happening.”

“You’re going to have to be more careful about keeping your door locked.” Phil held her away and looked directly at her, his own face showing a mixture of concern and agitation. “You’re too trusting, Amelia.”

Taking a deep breath, Amelia laughed shakily. “I’ll be more careful, Phil. That’s never happened to me before, but one time is too many.”

Phil sighed and put his back against the wall next to his sister. “I don’t like this kind of thing. Even if it doesn’t happen often, as you say, once is enough.”

“I was just getting ready to leave. Say, what are you doing here anyway?”

“I just thought I’d catch the end of your show and see if I could take my big sister out to get something to eat.”

“That’s a great idea! I’m starved.”

Phil helped her up and waited for her to pull on a lightweight jacket, then opened the door, looking both ways before stepping out. “He’s gone,” he announced, then took her arm and accompanied her to the front entrance of the club. He stopped suddenly, and she turned to see what he was watching. The band was playing loudly, and the wild wailing of the saxophone was like a beast in pain.

“What is it, Phil?”

“Look at that,” Phil said with disgust, nodding toward the dance floor. “That’s not dancing. That’s something out of the jungle!”

The floor was filled with young people dancing frenetically to the hit song “I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate.” Some of the dancers were doing the shimmy and others the Charleston, two dances that were sweeping the country like an epidemic. Those doing the Charleston were alternately swiveling on the balls of their feet, bouncing pigeon-toed, kicking, then bending to the floor, and knocking their knees and crossing their arms. Those doing the shimmy were furiously shaking their shoulders like Gilda Gray, who would shake while she sang until her chemise straps fell from her shoulders. Phil watched the gyrations and vigorous wiggling of the dancers, then whirled and walked away with Amelia following.

When they were outside, Amelia took Phil’s arm, saying, “There’s a nice quiet place to eat just a couple blocks from here. Why don’t we walk?”

“All right, sis. But that dancing back there took away my appetite.”

Amelia did not argue, but as they walked along the sidewalk, she was grieved that he had seen this side of New York’s nightlife. It was only the third time he had come to visit her, and she was ashamed.

They walked quietly, enjoying the balmy night air. Overhead, the full moon hovered between two tall buildings, shedding its pale light onto their patch of sidewalk.

Phil looked up at it without missing a step. “It reminds you of those moonlit nights on the veldt, doesn’t it, Amelia?”

“Yes, it does,” she murmured, glad to get Phil’s mind off of the lewd dancing in the club. They were reminiscing about their home in Africa when they reached a restaurant called Burton’s and went inside. The waiter showed them to a table in a far corner, and as they sat down Amelia said, “The soup
here is very good, but they have excellent steak too. Your favorite.” She smiled up at him.

“I’m not very hungry,” Phil muttered. But when she urged him, he finally ordered a small steak and a baked potato. She ordered the soup du jour and a club sandwich, and both had coffee while they were waiting for their food to come.

“I missed you while you were gone, sis. Tell me all about your travels. Where did you go?”

Between sips of the scalding black coffee, Amelia told him about her tour. She had done well since leaving Eddie’s club and signing on with Sid Menkin, Al Jolson’s agent. He had scheduled her in Chicago, then had flown her out to Hollywood. She spoke lightly of these things, and he asked her, “Did you see Capone in Chicago?”

“No, but I could have. He drives around in a huge black bulletproof car. Everywhere he goes he’s greeted like some kind of hero.” She shook her head with disgust. “I don’t understand why people put gangsters and killers on a pedestal like that.”

“Neither do I. It’s not what you would hope for in this country. These so-called Roaring Twenties are a lot like Babylon, I think.”

Amelia smiled but said nothing. She wouldn’t go quite so far as to agree with her brother on that point, though she did sometimes wonder where the world was headed. At the same time that she was drawn to the glamour of the lifestyle she had chosen, she was also bothered by the sleaziness of it.
Like a moth drawn to a flame,
she thought, then quickly switched the subject back to her tour. “I had a good time in Hollywood.”

Phil brightened. “Did you meet any stars?”

“A man I met there, a friend of my agent, took me out to one of the studios, and I watched them make a movie.”

“Oh yeah? Who was in it?”

“Rudolph Valentino.”

“Valentino!” Phil grimaced. “I can’t stand him! That fellow’s hair is as greasy as a meat ax.”