Ezekiel glanced at Bessie’s stomach.
“What do you expect to see?” Honoree said. “She’s only a few months pregnant from what we’ve figured out. So too soon for her belly to show much, especially since she’s wearing a coat.”
Ezekiel opened his mouth, another question in his eyes, but Honoree raised her hand, stopping him. “I want to make her a cup of coffee and put her in the bed.”
“I’m okay,” Bessie said, sniffling. “You can go off with Ezekiel if you like. I’m fine staying home alone.”
“Well, I’m not fine with you being alone.” Honoree fired an exhausted look at Ezekiel. “You were supposed to meet us at the cinema.” Honoree fished in her box purse for her keys and unlocked the door.
Ezekiel remained in the doorway. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said, turning toward the staircase.
“I said,” Bessie raised her voice, “I wanna be by myself.”
“We weren’t going anyplace in particular, were we, Ezekiel?”
“No place in particular.” He held his fedora, rubbing the felt brim.
Bessie clucked her tongue. “He’s not telling the truth. Where were you taking her?”
Ezekiel shook his head.
“Tell her.”
“The Dusty Bottom.”
Honoree felt a twinge of disappointment. The after-hours spot was an all-night dance hall she had wanted to go to for ages. Performers from the Stroll favored the place, and on Sunday nights, chorus girls, musicians, and waiters, having a collective night off, partied until dawn on spirits, jazz, and wild hoofing.
“I can’t tell you to leave,” Bessie declared. “This is your flat, but all I want to do is sleep.”
Honoree looked from Bessie to Ezekiel. “Are you sure?”
Bessie nodded.
Honoree stepped outside the kitchenette. “Bolt the door behind me.”
The bolt slid into place, but Honoree wasn’t relieved. “I don’t know, Ezekiel.”
“You heard her. She wants to be alone.” He took her hand and guided her down the staircase. “I parked the car in the back of the building,”
They turned the corner, and Honoree’s feet stopped moving. “That’s not your automobile. It belongs to Archie.”
“Jeremiah is working on my car, and Archie insisted I borrow his.” Ezekiel seized hold of her hand. “What’s wrong, Honoree?”
She staggered backward, the cold ignored as heat rushed through her body. “Did you tell him where you were coming tonight?”
“No, why would I?”
“Did you know I met Archie in this car?”
Ezekiel held on to her arm, but she jerked free of his grip. “No, I didn’t. What happened?”
She pressed a hand against her chest, kneading a sudden sharp pain. “After you and my mother left, I was broke, hungry, and alone. One night, my only choice seemed simple—work at a whorehouse or die. I didn’t make it to the whorehouse, though. I wandered into an alley with a Model T and an unlocked door. I curled up in the rumble seat, beneath a pile of blankets, to get warm. The alley was behind Miss Hattie’s, and the Model T belonged to Archie.”
“Honoree?”
“Let me finish. Archie found me in the trunk and took me in, and since I would end up a whore anyway, why not start with the man who brought me in from the cold?”
“Honoree, please. I don’t need to hear this.”
