Everything in Between (18 page)

Zae snapped her fingers. “That’s not a half bad idea. Thanks, little mama. I need to get my cell phone.” She left the room to go downstairs.

“It should be an interesting night,” Cinder said, humming under her breath.

Zae backtracked and poked her head back in the door. “What’d you say?”

“I said, we’ll treat him right,” Cinder answered. “We’ll make him feel welcome.”

“Don’t be too nice,” Zae said. “I hate it when my friends like a man more than I do.”

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that,” Cinder replied. “That won’t be a problem at all.”

Zae disappeared again, then doubled back once more. She peeped around the doorframe at Cinder, not at all pleased at the way she hummed to herself as she dabbed dots of sunlight on dew-tipped flower petals.

“Well, isn’t this quaint?”

The esteemed Dr. Dudley Dexter leaned forward in his chair, his right hand propped on his knee, the sharp corner of his right elbow jutting dangerously toward Gian, who shared a long, curved, padded bench with Cinder, Zae, Sionne, the twins, CJ and Cory. Zae’s flowy, long-sleeved white satin dress contrasted sharply with Dr. Dexter’s navy golf shirt and khaki shorts. He sat with his knees wide open, which drew the eye unerringly to his argyle socks and brown boat shoes.

“The décor reminds me of an exhibit I once saw in Harlem,” the doctor continued. “It was a recreation of a jazz club where some of the genre’s greats performed.” He raised the heavy tumbler containing his screwdriver and examined it in the muted glow of light from the chandelier above their table. “If I’m not mistaken, this is authentic Depression glass.” He ran his thumb over the fluted pattern pressed into the glass.

“Del Brown’s has been a part of the St. Louis riverfront since Prohibition,” Cinder volunteered. “Some of the greatest jazz and blues singers in history performed here. The current owner is the great-grandson of the man who first opened Del Brown’s.”

“It’s got quite a nice ambience,” Dr. Dexter said, projecting his voice over the loud buzz of conversations from the bar and neighboring booths and tables. “It must do a rollicking tourist trade.”

“It’s more of a hangout for locals,” Dawn said. “You won’t find advertisements for Del Brown’s in tourist guidebooks.”

“Dawn, your mother tells me that you’re studying economic history,” Dr. Dexter said. “I imagine you must know some wonderful stories of St. Louis’s heyday as one of the nation’s earliest trade capitals.”

“Shoes and beer,” Dawn said. “Then 1869 rolled around, and St. Louis lost its luster. The end.”

“I’m sure there’s more to it than that.” Dr. Dexter chuckled, displaying two rows of brilliantly white teeth set in his dark brown face.

“Not really,” Dawn said. She took Sionne’s hand. “You’re on soon. We should get you backstage.”

Sionne butted Cory off the bench seat in his haste to escape to the bar with Dawn.

“Are you performing this evening, Mr. Falaniko?” Dr. Dudley asked.

A fiery blush colored Sionne from his hairline to the open collar of his shirt. “Dawn talked me into it. She thinks you should always do something daring on your birthday.”

“What a special treat!” Dr. Dudley clapped. “I don’t know that I have the courage to sing in front of an audience other than my soap-on-a-rope.”

“Then you’re in the wrong place.” Dawn smiled sweetly. “If you come to Del Brown’s, you’d better be prepared to sing.”

“Is it like karaoke?” he asked.

Dawn’s shoulders tensed within the squarish structure of the military-style bodice of her dress. “Only in that you get to pick the song you want to sing.”

“Then I’ll give it a try!” Dr. Dudley exclaimed. “Point me in the direction of the song list.” He leaned in, whispering to Zae, “There’s nothing like a little Barry Manilow or Englebert Humperdinck to get a crowd on its feet!”

Dr. Dudley accompanied Sionne and Dawn to the bar, Dawn throwing a scowl at her mother as they went.

“He’s an interesting character,” Gian said once they were out of earshot. “Where did you say you met him, Zae?”

“I didn’t say,” she grumbled. “This was a bad idea.”

“He’s nice, Mom.” Eve smiled.

“He’s Urkel,” Cory teased.

“Let’s dance.” Eve took Cory’s hand and dragged him to the area of the scuffed hardwood floor reserved for the DJ and his monolithic speakers.

“Zae,” Gian started, nursing a sweaty pilsner of amber ale, “I have to tell you, Dr. Dudley’s the exact opposite of the sort of man I’d have thought you’d go for.”

Zae drained the last of her iced tea. “Are you trying to say he’s not like Colin?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Gian said.

“That’s why he appealed to me.”

Cinder grasped Zae’s hand. “He seems very nice and interesting, and that’s all that matters.”

“No,” Zae said tersely. “That’s not all that matters. I thought it was, but now…” She shook her head. “I think I want more. I know I want more.”

“You deserve more,” Gian said.

“More was already here,” Cinder said. She nudged Zae’s hip, directing her attention to the shallow platform of the stage.

Chip sat at a black baby grand piano gleaming with silver stars reflected from the hot spotlights beaming from the high ceiling. He pinched a cigarette between his lips, a haze of smoke surrounding his head. His face aimed at the piano keys, a bead of sweat trickled down to his jaw. He wore black trousers and suspenders, black leather uppers and a button-front shirt with a fine honey stripe that complemented the dark gold of his hair. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the muscles of his forearms as he picked out the notes of “Dream a Little Dream of Me.”

Chip didn’t look up when Dr. Dudley approached him, handing off a sheet of music.

“I didn’t know he smoked,” Zae said.

“He picked it up in the service but he quit when he was rehabilitating his leg,” Gian told him. “He only smokes here, far as I’ve seen.”

“I didn’t know he could play the piano, either,” Zae remarked.

“He’s a one-man band,” Gian said. “He also plays the trombone, saxophone, drums, oboe, trumpet and clarinet. He sat first chair in some youth symphony in Nashville when he was a kid.”

“I had no idea he was so accomplished,” Zae mused quietly.

Cinder brought her cranberry juice on the rocks to her lips, whispering to Zae. “You said Mr. Same-Time-Next-Year was tall, dark and handsome.”

“Actually, I said he was a tall dork, and handsome,” Zae quietly snapped. “And why didn’t you tell me that Chip played here?”

“I assumed you knew,” Cinder said. “You’ve spent so much time together lately.”

“How often do you all come down here?” Zae asked. In the weeks since her daughters had moved on campus, she wasn’t as up-to-date on their evening and weekend activities.

“Every Friday,” Cory said. “Dawn says it helps keep her instrument sharp.”

“Are Sionne and Dawn an official item yet?” Cinder asked.

“Might as well be.” Zae spotted the pair at the stand of sheet music to the right of the stage. Dawn straightened Sionne’s collar while he studied a piece of music. “They’re always together.”

“Sionne is so sweet to her,” Cinder said.

“He’s the only boyfriend she’s ever had who she hasn’t been able to run all over,” Zae chuckled. “He’s so easy-going and attentive, and Dawn…”

“Dawn can turn someone to stone with a glance,” Gian suggested.

“You know what they say.” Cinder grinned. “Opposites attract.”

“Don’t they, though,” Gian chuckled, watching Dr. Dudley snap his fingers on the one and three as he stood, tapping his foot out of rhythm, before the brass instruments on stage.

A waitress in a white blouse and flared black satin tap pants came to the table, blocking their view of Dr. Dudley. “What can I get you folks?” she asked, her bright red lips pulled into a smile.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Cinder said.

“Could I get another iced tea?” Zae asked.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic,” CJ said, “hold the gin and see if you can’t slip me a double twist of lime.”

“Sure thing.” The waitress chuckled.

“Thanks, sugar,” CJ said, winking at her as she left to fill their orders.

“What’s with the bowtie?” Gian asked him. “Who are you supposed to be, a reincarnated Cab Calloway?”

“He’s going through a Johnny Dodds phase,” Zae explained. She reached past Eve to straighten CJ’s bowtie. “The wardrobe is much more affordable than when he was all about Cab Calloway.”

“Cutaway coats and tails are expensive in kids’ sizes.” Eve laughed.

“Forgive my ignorance, kiddo,” Gian said, “but who is Johnny Dodds?”

“One of the greatest New Orleans jazz clarinetists ever,” CJ answered. “We learned about him in music class. He recorded with Jelly Roll Morton and a whole bunch of other jazz masters.”

“Cool,” Gian said.

“CJ, you’re the one who’s cool,” Cinder said. “When I do graphic design presentations in schools, I get so frustrated because it seems that all the kids want to be rap stars. It’s nice to see a young man so interested in a classic art form like jazz.”

“Thanks, sis,” CJ said. “I got my licorice stick. I’m going onstage with the other cats later and I’ll blow sweet chops for you. Chip is a real finger zinger on the ivories, much better than that Joe Below they had here last week. If you squares will excuse me, I’ve gotta water the daisies before I hog the spot.”

Cinder pressed back a laugh until the crowd swallowed CJ on his way to the men’s room. “Zae, I have no idea what he just said, but he sounded so cute!”

“Did he just call us ‘squares’?” Cory said.

“Cute is one word for it,” Zae said. “He said he’s got his clarinet and he wants to play with the band to show you how good he’s getting. He also said that Chip plays very well and that he’s better than the pianist who played here last week. He did indeed call you all squares—I was not included in that description—and he excused himself to pee before he goes onstage.”

“He keeps calling me daddy-o,” Cory said. “It’s a good thing I’m dating his sister, or I’d have knocked his block off.”

Eve gave Cory a kiss on the cheek.

“CJ’s teachers are going to kill him if he doesn’t stop lugging his clarinet to every class and calling them ‘doll’ and ‘sugar,’ ” Zae said. “His jazz lingo has already earned him a month of detention. He called his math teacher a barn-burner. As in, ‘You’re a real barn-burner, but math just ain’t my bag.’ ”

“What’s a ‘barn-burner’?” Gian asked.

“An attractive woman,” Zae answered.

“At least it was a compliment.” Gian chuckled.

“I think it’s good that you’re allowing him to express himself as he chooses,” Cinder said. “Gian and I plan to do the same thing with our child.”

“Any word on the baby front?” Zae asked.

“Nothing we want to talk about right now.” Cinder took Gian’s hand and held it to her chest. “We don’t want to jinx anything.”

“Looks like Sionne’s going on,” Cory said. He stood and began to clap and whistle.

Zae turned to the stage. The old-fashioned mike stand looked like a toothpick in front of Sionne’s bulk. His black hair was loose, and it gleamed blue in the spotlight above him.

“Sionne’s been practicing for weeks.” Cory resumed his seat. “Haven’t you heard him in the locker rooms after his classes?”

“That was singing?” Gian snickered. “I thought it was some kind of Polynesian yawp meditation.”

“Don’t make fun of him,” Cinder chided. “I think it’s sweet that he wants to share one of Dawn’s interests with her.”

“Let me know if you still think it’s sweet when you hear him,” Gian muttered.

Cinder shushed her husband. The house lights went down, cloaking the tiny tables dotting the floor in shadow. Dr. Dudley’s tall, lanky silhouette trod on toes and banged the backs of chairs as he found his way back to Zae’s table.

The stage lights went up and Zae focused her attention forward. Beads of sweat on Sionne’s forehead and upper lip glistened like dew. He cleared his throat, the mike amplifying the guttural noise.

Sionne dressed for his musical debut in loose pleated trousers with a deep cuff, and a white shirt with cufflinks. The gold chain of a pocket watch dangled between his waistband and his right front pocket, an authentic touch Del Brown’s patrons surely appreciated. Zae suspected Dawn chose Sionne’s outfit as it matched her own skirt, blouse and vintage platform peep-toe heels.

Along with Colin’s dark brown eyes, Dawn had inherited her father’s love of classic jazz. She’d been eight years old when she had watched Lena Horne in
Cabin in the Sky
six times in a row with her father, and she’d spent days singing the songs. Zae brought the girls to Del Brown’s for vocal training soon after. Both girls had the chops to pursue music professionally, but for now it remained a hobby, one their family and friends gladly shared with them.

CJ had eagerly dressed to suit the era Del Brown’s kept alive, but Zae was pleasantly surprised to see Cinder and Gian putting on the ritz in contemporary clothing that harkened back to fashions popularized by Ella Fitzgerald and Art Smith. Cinder, who worked from home and almost never dressed up, had donned black seamed stockings that showed off her beautiful legs. Zae patted her own white silk snood, a replica of a Schiaparelli design made famous by Billie Holliday. Dawn and Eve had given it to her three years ago, for her fortieth birthday, and she finally had occasion to wear it. Chip had glanced her way more than once, or so Zae thought, but if he appreciated the finishing touch of her hair bundled into the snood, he gave no indication of it.