I grip the railing.
Ghost or no ghost. Honoree’s questions or not. The only thing that matters is the thesis. The only thing that matters is finishing the film—but Honoree is the key.
I look up at the roof of the elevator, expecting to see Azizi floating above me, and I want to scream at her for reminding me what I didn’t do and what I can’t get past. Christ. Give me a freaking break. As if I could forget.
CHAPTER 18
HONOREE
Monday, October 26, 1925
Honoree swept into Miss Hattie’s an hour before showtime, hips swinging, hair freshly pressed and curled, makeup just right. She looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. She was young and pretty and dressed in her new gold lamé shift, slit to the middle of her thigh, and everything was jake, except everything wasn’t jake at all.
It was a typical Monday night. King Johnny and his band were wailing, and the cafe was full of railroad workers and hoofers, dancing hard and kicking up so much sawdust, Honoree couldn’t wipe the grit from her eyes fast enough.
“Hey, Pete,” she said, putting on a happy face as she eased into an open spot at the bar. “How you feelin’?”
“You okay, Honoree? You don’t look so good.”
“I’m fine. Just here to do my job.”
“Strange things happening at Miss Hattie’s these days.” His voice was heavy. He knew more bad news than good. “You better watch yourself. I got a feelin’, Honoree. Things ain’t right around here.”
“As if they ever have been, Pete.”
A pogo stick that looked like Bessie was jumping and waving from the other end of the bar. “I love your dress,” she shouted as she drew closer.
“I should’ve expected you to be the first girl I saw tonight. Why are you here so early?”
Bessie squeezed in next to Honoree. “Miss Dolly gave me an extra job. I have to clean up the cafe every day.” Suddenly, Bessie hugged Honoree around the shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re here. I thought for sure I’d never see you again. I figured you would be dancing at the Dreamland Cafe.”
Honoree scanned the nearby faces, but no one seemed to have overheard. “Don’t say anything to anybody about the Dreamland Cafe,” she whispered.
Bessie looked at her with hurt feelings. “I’m sorry, but I wouldn’t mention it to anyone else, I swear—but did you get the job?”
Honoree bit her tongue to keep from cursing. “Oh my God. I just said don’t talk—”
“I won’t, but that don’t mean I can’t talk to you about it, does it?”
Shaking her head, Honoree pulled a cigarette from her purse. Then she signaled Pete. “Gin, with all the fixings and make that twice as much gin.”
“Guess what? I talked to Virginia,” Bessie said, tugging on one of her coarse curls. “She’s gonna fix my hair Wednesday night.”
“Isn’t that nice of her.” She wished Bessie would hush. Being back at Miss Hattie’s had put Honoree in the vilest mood that not even a new dress could fix.
Pete placed a large glass of gin in front of her.
“Thank you.”
“I took your advice,” Bessie said.
“What advice?”
“I quit that man who was hitting me.”
Honoree chugged half her gin in one gulp, burning her throat as if she’d swallowed kerosene. She blinked back tears. “Good for you,” she said, though she didn’t mean it. What did she care about Bessie’s troubles when she had so many of her own?
Bessie was standing next to her, swinging her hips, with a genuinely happy smile on her face. So bright, Honoree smiled back despite herself.
