Shattered Glass Page 8

  It wasn’t necessary. The inside of the skinny fellow’s coat was completely covered in jewelry! He had dozens of dangly earrings, necklaces, ladies’ watches…wait. What was that? I stepped closer, and the salesman encouraged me to try on anything I liked. “Nothing like something shiny to lift a girl’s spirits!”

  I picked up a gold chain that had a lovely star hanging from it. “Is that the Star of David?”

  “Well, sure, yeah.” He was sort of hopping from one foot to the other, causing his stock to jingle and dance. “It’s a star and my name’s David. More important, it’s 47 karat gold, sweet cheeks. Can’t do better than that. You’ll be a star when you wear it.”

  “How much?”

  “Five dollars.”

  “Five dollars!” I was crushed.

  “Look, I know you’re a lady that knows quality when she sees it. This here is solid gold. It’s Italian by way of Egypt and then, uh, Israel, of course. Nothing finer anywheres. Whaddaya got?”

  I hadn’t been paid for the week yet. But I wanted that chain so bad my teeth ached. It would be a deeply spiritual connection to my new people, plus it was pure gold and pretty. I dumped out all the money in my change purse. “Only a dollar thirty-five.”

  “Sold! I got me a fatal weakness for lovely ladies. Here, I’ll help ya put it on.”

  I paid the gentleman and walked away taller, straighter and shinier. Things were looking up. My Star of David was my new special thing. And it would stay a secret thing until I had a drawer full of evidence to lay out in front of Mr. Brooks Goldman. And then and only then, I would share it all with him. I’d explain how I knew that he was my father and that I forgave him. And then he would embrace me, and then he would cry, and then I would cry.

  And then, best of all, Ethan would feel just awful.

  “I Saw Her Standing There”

  (THE BEATLES)

  IT WAS ANNOYING. I mean, it shouldn’t have been. What did I care? Still, it was annoying that I was annoyed.

  Ethan was ignoring me again.

  He pretended to be busy with the stage and sound equipment. It struck me while he was fiddling with the speakers that he had soothing hair. Like if you touched it, you’d feel better. Ethan’s hair was dark, not as dark as mine, but dark, and it was a cross between curly and wavy and shiny under the lights. Not that I thought about it much.

  Ethan could afford to stay away now that the infamous Rachel had returned from running away with her trumpet-playing boyfriend. Rachel and I manned the floor while Ethan went back to doing whatever he did before she took off.

  I liked her right off, even though she cried a lot and not all that quietly either. Rachel was a hard worker and totally efficient, but she cried nonstop. “Why didn’t anyone warn me?” she’d wail. “The bum!” The patrons didn’t seem to mind. Actually, they didn’t even seem to notice, which led me to believe that Big Bob was right. They’d been through all of this with Rachel before.

  “Don’t go near a trumpet player, or any kind of horn for that matter.” We were at the espresso machine. “I mean, run, don’t walk, as soon as one smiles at you.”

  I promised that I would indeed run from any fast-approaching, smiling trumpet players. She hugged me. “I like you, Toni.” And then she started sobbing again.

  I kept trying to catch Mr. Goldman’s eye before the first set but couldn’t. Finally, the set ended and I started to make my way backstage after him. Out of nowhere, Ethan caught up to me. “Hey, Toni, look…this is stupid. I just want to say…”

  Mr. Goldman was heading for the back door. He liked to smoke his hand-rolled cigarettes out there sometimes. I only had a minute. “Uh, sure, Ethan, but I just have to have a word with your father first.”

  “With my old man? Why? You still on about that?” He threw his hands up. “You’re hopeless.” He walked away, shaking his head. “The girl’s a flake. Deal with it, Ethan.”

  Was he talking to himself? Flake? Like snowflake? That was sweet.

  I followed Mr. Goldman outside. Sure enough, he was taking a long drag on his cigarette.

  “Toni? Is something the matter?” He sat down on an oil drum.

  “Oh no, sir.”

  He smiled and took another drag. “Good. We all like you, you know. You’re doing great here.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I felt an overwhelming sense of family connection with him. Way more than I had with Mr. Tyson, to tell the truth. But now was not the time to get into that. “Grady said that you might be able to help me find someone who knew my mother.” Should I tell him my mother’s name? Gauge his reaction? No, that would be rushing again.

  He took another drag, closed his eyes and nodded. “Sure thing, Toni. Who do you want to know about?”

  “I believe her name is Scarlet Sue. I don’t have a last name, I’m afraid.”

  “Old Sue! What a dame!” Now he was smiling with his eyes closed. “Man, the Village was full of great characters back in the day. Better days, better days.” Then he opened his eyes and sighed. “Unfortunately, Sue got picked up so many times that the last sentence was for a hard, long one.” He took a last drag and then stubbed out the teeny piece that was left. “Worse yet, she was hauled off to the Andrew Mercer Reformatory for Women. A real snake pit of a place.” Mr. Goldman shook his head. “There was nothing I could do. She’s still there, poor doll.”

  “Is it in Toronto?”

  “Sadly, yeah. Man, they should just blow it up, but yeah, it’s here and she’s there.”

  “Oh, that’s great! I mean, not that she’s there, but that she’s there and I can write or maybe even see her.”

  He stood up. “Stay away from that hole, Toni. Write, if you got to, but that’s no place for a girl like you.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you, sir. Well, I better get back to my tables. That was a great set, Mr. Goldman.”

  I dashed back inside and searched for Ethan. I caught him by the sound equipment. “Hey, what did you want to talk to me about anyway?”

  He didn’t even turn around. “Nothing. Forget it.”

  “Fine.” I put my hand on the Star of David under my turtleneck and stormed away in my best huff, which would have been so much more effective had I not tripped over the speaker wires.

  He was going to be so, so sorry when I put all the pieces together.

  I was still huffing back to my section when I felt a hand on my wrist. “What’s a guy got to do to get a cup of coffee in this place?”

  Cassidy! Two things flashed at the same time. First, did he see me trip, and second, just as important, was I wearing lipstick? I looked tons older with lipstick.

  I had almost given up on him. “Hi, oh hey, hi!” Really, Toni?

  He looked even better in the Purple Onion than he had in the Bohemian Embassy.

  “I’ve been away on business, but I came in as soon as I could to see you in action.”

  “Is there a problem here?” It was Rachel. Her mascara was all over her face, but at least she wasn’t leaking fresh tears.

  “No, no, not at all! Rachel, this is Cassidy, he’s a—a friend.” Cassidy smiled at Rachel, and I could tell that it was a direct hit. He was, technically, sitting in her section. I looked at her imploringly.

  “Nice to meet you, Cassidy. I’m sure Toni will fix you right up.”

  “I’m sure she will.”

  He winked at her before she turned, and she winked back at me.

  “I make a mean cappuccino. Interested?” Whoa, I defy Grady to pull off a better line. Everybody look, look! I am handling this so well! Especially considering that he still had his hand on my arm and Ethan was glaring at me from onstage.

  “You interest me, Toni.” He leaned back in his chair, and I couldn’t help but notice how good he looked in the leaning. “How goes your quest? I hope you’re getting somewhere.”

  He remembered! Wow! “Oh, kind of, but not really.”

  Wait, did he say that I interested him?

  I ignored three of my own tables in th
e rush to the espresso machine. The Ramblers busted into their cover of “I Saw Her Standing There” and I sang right along with them.

  “I smell trouble.” Rachel shook her head as she opened Coke bottles. “That man’s way too good-looking for his own good. Is he a trumpet player or musician of any kind?”

  “No, I promise.” I started foaming the milk. “He’s a businessman. Isn’t he dreamy? I met him at the Bohemian Embassy. I didn’t even know anyone could look like that. It’s the smile, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, I know what you mean…” But she looked doubtful or sad. I didn’t know Rachel well enough to tell which. “I just got a feeling is all, but then, you got to consider the source, and I’m more wrong than I am right, right?”

  “Rachel?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “You might want to fix your eyes a tad. They’re a bit…”

  She started to tear up again.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. You’re so sweet is all.”

  My hand shook like an earthquake as I handed Cassidy his coffee. He pretended not to notice. “Thank you, Toni. I wish you could join me.” He pretty much emptied the sugar canister into the cup. I liked that, since I did it too. “Sadly, I have some commitments, so I won’t be able to stay for the whole set.”

  Was Ethan still watching? I hoped he was.

  “But the next night I get free, I would like to take you to the Minc Club after your shift. I think you’d like it a lot.”

  Was that a date? Was he asking me out? Seventeen magazine had all sorts of advice about this. I should play it cool, check my calendar, say I’d have to get back to him, look like I was conflicted.

  “Wow, that would be great!”

  One of my regulars, who hadn’t been served yet, was giving me the stinkeye. “Sorry, I have to go and…”

  “Of course.” He raised his cup. “Until we meet again.” He blew me a kiss right in front of everybody and everything. My heart almost stopped.

  Was this what love felt like? Okay, kind of fast, but it went like that in my head all the time. When it’s right, it’s right. I couldn’t get back to the table to clear until almost the end of the set. Cassidy was long gone.

  But he had left me a ten-dollar tip!

  Ten whole dollars! Oh my god! I could buy a whole new outfit with that! And I would. I had to look my most absolute best from here on in. I would be ready for Cassidy whenever he came in. My whole world was opening up. I couldn’t wait to write to Joe and tell him about my progress and how well I was doing and, well, all about this.

  Joe would tell everybody, and they’d all be so proud. Actually, they’d be shocked out of their brains. I’d been in Toronto by myself for weeks and weeks, and I hadn’t gotten into trouble once!

  “It’s Over”

  (ROY ORBISON)

  THE PROFESSOR HAD to knock on my door again in the middle of the night. Given that we had this pact that he would only come up if he were truly alarmed by the screaming, I felt extra humiliated as I peeked out. “It’s okay, professor. I’m okay. I am so, so, sorry.”

  “Not at all. Think nothing of it, my dear. I am truly heartsick that you have to endure this nightmare ritual.” The professor was in his pajamas and a very fancy dressing gown with an emerald-green satin collar. Come to think of it, the professor was always a “snazzy” dresser. “Do you remember them when you’re awake?”

  “No, sir, not really.” I rested my head against the door. “There’s fire and glass and I’m being hurt on purpose. Nothing makes sense.” I didn’t tell him that sometimes I could actually feel the glass shards cutting me. Or that I knew it was my mother who was hurting me.

  “Well, it’s only just past twelve. You can still get a good night’s sleep in. Good night.”

  The door shut and I was in my big, dark, silent room. Alone. The city, unlike the country, did not serenade me with wind whistling through the birch-tree leaves, with crickets arguing or snowy owls surveying their domain. Here in the big city, it was like I was in a vacuum-sealed container. Where was Betty, who grudgingly, sleepily, would always let me crawl in beside her when I got like this? Malou, Sara, Tess, Dot and Cady were not snoring and snuffling in the rooms across the hall. When I was awake in the night and trying to breathe through my fear, I’d heard their heartbeats. And it calmed me. Being together rendered us all invincible. Yet I couldn’t wait to leave, to get out there, to begin…

  Be careful what you wish for. Joe had said that all the time. I never knew what he was talking about then.

  I climbed back into bed and turned on the radio real low. It was so hot. The air lay on me like an unwanted blanket. I tossed around, searching in vain for the cool side of the pillow, until I finally went down for the count. I didn’t wake up until Roy Orbison mournfully belted out “It’s Over” at 9:30 AM.

  Not a great way to start the day.

  My plan was to spend a few hours at the library, hunting down leads. But by the time I hit the downstairs hall, I heard voices in Grady’s parlor. It wasn’t even ten. Grady was rarely up before noon, let alone up and entertaining visitors.

  I had to knock and find out what was going on.

  “Come on in, kid. We were just talking about you.”

  Whoa!

  “Good morning, Toni.” It was Big Bob. He’d broken out a new T-shirt again. You could always tell because, even though he liked them tight, you could still see the marks where they had been folded in the package. Far more shocking was Grady.

  Even at this hour, Grady looked like she was in the middle of a photo shoot for Good Housekeeping magazine, the “How to keep your man happy” edition. She wore a silk organza shirtdress with yellow roses all over it, cinched in with a wide belt made of the same material. Even more startling was that there wasn’t a refreshment in sight. Big Bob didn’t drink, so there was Grady sipping on a cup of coffee!

  “Have a scone, honey. I baked them fresh this morning.”

  Grady baked?

  In the morning?

  “Nobody bakes like my Lady Grady.” Big Bob got up and helped himself to a couple.

  I took a scone and sat down, speechless.

  “So how goes the search for your people, kid?” He was addressing me but smiling blindly at Grady.

  I filled them in on my new tip about Scarlet Sue and how I was going to get Mr. Kenyatta to help me write to her. This led to a discussion about the evils of the Andrew Mercer Reformatory for Women. We didn’t talk about why Scarlet Sue was in there, mind you, just that it was a writhing cesspool not fit for humans.

  “How about on your dad’s side?” he asked.

  I looked at Big Bob, then to Grady and back again. Surely I could trust these people. They had been nothing but good to me.

  “Well…” I finished chewing my scone and cleared my throat. “I think I know for absolutely sure who my father is, probably.”

  “Really? That’s great, kid!” Big Bob got up for a third helping.

  “Now, Bobby, remember the child was absolutely convinced that Ian Tyson was her daddy.”

  That got his attention.

  “Yeah, well, that was just crazy,” I said. “I mean, I love Mr. Tyson, but he’s so not my father. That was a ridiculous, childish fantasy and I’m sincerely appalled with myself. Mr. Brooks Goldman is my father.”

  Nobody said anything.

  “I’m absolutely sure of it.”

  Big Bob dropped his scone. “Brooks?”

  “Excuse me.” Grady got up. “I need a refreshment.”

  “Look, Toni, uh…” Big Bob winced. “I don’t think that…”

  “I have this playbill, and he knew all about Willa’s, and he loves music, and I love music, and he has blue eyes, and I have blue eyes, and…”

  “When were you born?”

  “September 13, 1947, sir.”

  Big Bob shook his head and was joined in the head shaking by Grady when she came back with her “orange juice.”

  “No, honey.” G
rady took a decent gulp. “Brooks was still married to Ethan’s mom back then.”

  “Yes, but I have read that married men sometimes, on occasion—”

  “Not Brooks,” they both said at once.

  Big Bob clasped his hands. “You never saw a man crazier about a woman in your life. If he could have breathed for her, he would have.”

  “Ain’t it the truth.” Grady nodded. “She could bore the bark off a tree, may she rest in peace, but Brooks worshipped her.”

  Big Bob cleared his throat. “You see, that whole year leading up to the time you were born, Brooks never left Elaine’s side. Ethan’s mom, well, it was a long death, a bad passing. We all looked in for months, sent food. The ladies”—he smiled at Grady—“all took turns with Ethan, who was just a toddler. Day and night, night and day, every day. No, Toni, Brooks would burn in hell before he looked at another lady—no offense.”

  “But…”

  I was about to marshal my arguments, except it was instantly clear that I didn’t have any. I didn’t even have any proof that they knew each other. My so-called facts went up in smoke. What was the matter with me? I’d gone off half-cocked on yet another fantasy. They were both looking at me with real pity.

  So, I didn’t have a father—again. Wait, did this mean I wasn’t Jewish? I had to lug all those books back to the library. I was almost finished Exodus by Leon Uris, and I was pretty sure that I was a Zionist.

  I liked being Jewish.

  Wait, wait. This meant that I didn’t have a half brother either.

  Ethan.

  Well, to be honest, I wasn’t sure how I felt about that part.

  I stumbled over to the library in a daze. Truth be told, I was getting pretty sick of the roller coaster I had put myself on. Wasn’t I the one who’d always said that I didn’t want to find my parents? Did not care, thank you very much. I knew that I had a crazy, violent mom, and my dad was likely just as crazy, for all that I wanted him to be a fabulous musician.

  But the thing was, now that I’d started, I couldn’t stop. It’s like when you lose a tooth and your tongue keeps going to that hole no matter how many times you tell yourself to stop. So there I was, in front of Mr. Kenyatta’s broad, beaming smile, explaining how I needed an address for the Andrew Mercer Reformatory so that I could write to one of the inmates.