“Sorry, I meant Lil.”
“Do you make clothes for people other than yourself?”
“Are you asking if I take dress orders?” Honoree said. “Other than gowns for my roommate and me, I’ve made some costumes for the chorus girls at Miss Hattie’s.”
“I could use some new gowns. Wouldn’t be the Queen of the Stroll without some one-of-a-kind dresses in my wardrobe.”
“I can do that—make you some original gowns. It would be my honor.”
Ms. Hardin smiled. “I’d pay you, of course.” She removed her gloves, tugging one elegant finger at a time. “Come to my dressing room tomorrow night. You can take my measurements, and we can talk about fabric and colors.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Honoree said, adding a nervous chuckle. Was she talking to Lil Hardin? Was it a dream? Hopefully, she wouldn’t spoil it by having a conniption. “I use a sketchbook, too, and can show you some of my dress design ideas.”
“Swell. I think our meeting was meant to be. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.”
Honoree took Ms. Hardin’s hand and started shaking it until the woman winced. “I’m sorry.” She released her, grinning. “This is wonderful, ma’am. Just wonderful.”
“Now, what did I say about calling me ma’am?” Ms. Hardin said flatly.
“Sorry, I meant see you tomorrow night—Lil.”
* * *
After rehearsal, Honoree practically floated home and bounded into the kitchenette, her excitement uncontainable. “Guess who I ran into, I mean ran over, this afternoon?”
Bessie sat at the table, shoulders shaking, hands over her eyes, fat tears dripping from her chin.
“What in damnation is wrong with you?” Honoree asked.
The tears continued with no words coming from her lips, only blubbering.
“I can’t help unless you tell me what’s wrong.”
Bessie kept whimpering. Honoree dropped her bags and sat at the table across from her. “Let me take a look at you.” She moved her hands. The girl had a bruise on her jaw the size of a strawberry, and one of her eyes was swollen halfway shut.
Honoree leaped to her feet, hurried to the door, and bolted it. “Who did this to you? Did you go back to the man who beat you? Did he beat you again?”
“I had to go back. I had to talk to him.”
Honoree moved her chair next to Bessie’s. “Talk to him about what? You don’t need him for nothing.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Nonsense. You don’t need to be sorry. This guy is the goof.” Honoree touched Bessie’s hand. “What’s his name? Who is he?”
“No. You don’t need his name.”
“Is it Archie? Is that why he gave you the job?”
“You don’t need to know,” she said, gulping sobs.
Looking at Bessie’s swollen face, listening to her crying, Honoree felt sick to her stomach.
She rose and went over to the sink, wet a washcloth, and returned to Bessie. Taking hold of her chin, she wiped her nose, her tears, and her bruises.
“Stop bawling. I guess I understand needing the company, but after being on my own for so long, I always feel lonely now and then.”
“I’m not lonely. That’s not what’s got me upset.” Bessie looked at Honoree with swollen, tear-filled eyes. “I think I’m gonna have a baby.” The sobbing escalated, giving Honoree a moment for the shock to settle in.
