“I’m always careful.”
Pete tapped the bar. “I don’t want to see you hurt.” He hobbled off to wait on customers.
Honoree brought the glass to her lips and took a much-needed sip.
“What you drinking?” It was Bessie, nudging her in the back. “Can I have one, too?”
“What did I tell you about sneaking up on me? And no, you’re too young.”
“I’m sixteen.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Miss Dolly and the rest of the chorus girls were on Bessie’s heels.
“What took y’all so long?” Honoree asked.
Virginia raised a girlishly thin brow. “Edna Mae was having a fit about her costume.”
Honoree shook her head slowly. “No offense. But she don’t wear a costume—”
A commotion kicked up behind them, coming from the direction of the entrance. The crowd opened a path, and a tawny-skinned blonde waving her arms yelled, “I’m here. I’m here!”
Bessie touched her shoulder. “Is that Trudy Lewis?”
“None other than,” Honoree said with a whistle.
“How’d she make her hair that color?”
Honoree twisted toward Bessie with an eye on Trudy. “Bleach—lots of bleach.”
“Why would she do something like that?”
Honoree shrugged. “Her roots are knotted so tight an entire jar of lye couldn’t straighten ’em. So she bleached her hair the color of yellow cotton, a tribute to Mary Pickford, I believe. But don’t ask Trudy about her hair color. You might get a busted lip for your trouble.”
Bessie tugged on her springy curls. “I should do something to my hair, too.”
“Have you heard of Madam C. J. Walker’s products? The hair-growth ointment and the iron pressing comb.”
“No. Never heard of her or those things.”
“Ask Virginia. How do you think she got that spit curl to lie flat against her cheek?”
Trudy was within arm’s reach, and Honoree started to pull her aside, but Virginia slid between them. “Where you been?” she asked Trudy.
“Flat on her face in an alley,” Edna Mae added, leaning over Honoree’s shoulder. She didn’t like Trudy and took any chance to pluck a feather or two from her plume.
“I don’t care where she been.” Miss Dolly shoved them both aside. “She here now.” Miss Dolly pivoted toward Trudy. “You got on your costume?”
“I sure do.” Trudy fanned open her muskrat coat and dipped her hip like some starlet inMotion Picturemagazine.
Honoree turned away, hiding the expression on her face and her uncharitable opinion of Trudy.
“Let’s go. Let’s go.” Miss Dolly shooed Honoree and the other chorus girls toward the stage. “We’re all here now. Time to put on a show.”
They paraded through the crowd and toward the stage. Honoree grabbed Bessie’s hand and tugged her along, but once they were near the stage, she let her go and caught Trudy’s elbow.
“We need to talk.” Honoree looked around, making sure no one was around to overhear them. Trudy folded her arms over her stomach as if they had all night to chat.
