Vivian laughed, suddenly feeling less out of place. This she could handle. “You haven’t heard? He got married.”
“What?” Mags, who had been enjoying slouching in her seat, trouser-clad legs stuck out in front of her and knees propped wide, bolted upright. She looked horrified. “No! Why is everyone always getting married? That’s when you stop having fun!”
The other three laughed. “Not everyone is fresh out of school, sweetheart,” Leo said with a grin. “There are people, you know, who think settling down with someone specialisfun.”
He didn’t look at Vivian as he said it; she didn’t know whether she was relieved or hurt.
Mags made another face. “But that sounds so boring…”
As the gossip carried them north to Harlem, Vivian pushed Leo and their fight and thoughts of the future out of her head. She had plenty to worry about in the present before she needed to think about what came next.
At last, they joined a stream of cars all converging on a single building, nearly a full block long and built of cream-colored stone, its windows blazing with light and music pouring from the door every time it opened to admit someone. As their progress slowed to a crawl, Mags pressed her face against the window, taking in the spectacle of hundreds—were there already thousands?—of glamorous men and women. Vivian, after a moment of hesitation, slid across the seat to peer out too. Her heart was hammering against her chest as she scanned the people, wondering if Corny Rokesby would, in fact, be there tonight.
At last, their car reached the front of the line. As a uniformed attendant reached for the door, Annabel smiled. “Welcome, friends, to the famous Rockland Palace and the Hamilton Lodge Ball.” She turned toward the door, then paused, glancing back at them all, her brows raised. “Try not to get in too much trouble. Or if you do, don’t tell anyone you came with me.”
“Wait, it just occurred to me,” Mags piped up as the door swung open. “Do I need a new name for the night?”
Vivian had thought, after years of dancing and working at the Nightingale, that there wasn’t much in New York’s nightlife that could surprise or overwhelm her.
The Hamilton Lodge Ball proved her wrong. After presenting their tickets at the door, they were surrounded by a sea of people, the sound of the crowd filling the high ceilings and wide halls, competing with the music that flowed from the ballroom. Overhead, spectators peereddown from dozens of boxes, watching the dancers and the mingling crowds alike.
“Too bad we don’t have a box,” Mags said, sounding breathless as Leo spotted a bar and led them toward it. “Maybe next time we can get a reservation for one?” she added hopefully. “It’s murderously hot down here.”
Annabel raised her brows. “Next time?” Mags just grinned in response and accepted the cocktail that Leo handed her.
“Cheers, friends,” he said after he finished handing their drinks around, and they all raised their glasses, though their eyes were almost immediately drawn back to the crowd. It was well worth watching, ball gowns and frock coats as much on display as slinky evening dresses and sharply tailored jackets. There were people dressed as biblical virgins, Greek gods and goddesses, and more than one shepherdess with dozens of flounces on their skirts. Some women were dressed as if they were about to perform a burlesque striptease on the vaudeville stage. Vivian stared at all of them, drinking in the beautiful, scandalous clothes.
The band played a smooth rendition of “Yes, Sir, That’s My Baby.” But the dancers weren’t as good as the ones at the Nightingale. The dancing, clearly, was there to give partygoers something to do, but it wasn’t the point of the evening.
The point was to see and be seen. To be part of the crowd. And—for more than half the people there—to take the anything-goes opportunity to be whoever they wanted.
“Golly, those folks have slow feet,” Mags said, eyeing the dancers as critically as Vivian had done a moment before. She gave Leo a look from the corner of her eye. “What do you say we go for a spin?”
He glanced at Vivian. “I don’t know how much attention we want to be drawing tonight,” he said slowly.
“Oh, come on, be a sport,” Mags begged. “Look, there’s lots of fellas dancing with other fellas out there, it won’t draw any attention at all.”
That made him laugh. “I meant the dancing, kid, not your outfit,” he said, shaking his head. “I think Viv wanted to keep a lower profile tonight.”
“Well, that works out just fine then, doesn’t it?” Mags pointed out. “We’ll go make a scene on the dance floor, and Viv can do…” She shrugged. “Whatever she’s going to do. Let’s shake a leg.Please?”
“Go ahead,” Vivian said, taking Leo’s drink from him and nudging him with her shoulder. Someone needed to keep an eye on Mags—that had been the deal. And Vivian couldn’t look for Rokesby if she was babysitting all night. “I’ll meet you back here in… maybe an hour?” She didn’t have a watch, but there was a hulking, sonorous grandfather clock in the hall that she’d heard booming a few minutes before.
Leo still looked uncomfortable, but at last he nodded. “You’ll be okay without me?”
“Just peachy,” Vivian said. “You get out there and show ’em how it’s done.”
Mags laughed with delight, handing over her glass as well and grabbing Leo’s arm.
Vivian took a sip of her drink as she watched them go. Everywhere she looked was packed with people. And even though the Grand United Order of Odd Fellows, the Hamilton Lodge fraternity, was a Black organization, the ballroom was awash in faces of every color. Everyone flirted openly with whoever they wanted to, whether men, women, or those who couldn’t quite be pinned down as either. No one batted an eye at even the most outrageous outfits. Absolutely no one was hiding their liquor.
And why would they bother? If the police raided a place like this, they were as likely to arrest attendees for indecency as imbibing, so the partygoers might as well enjoy themselves.
Besides, there were too many people to round up. Vivian downed the rest of her drink recklessly. She was probably safer here than she’d ever been at the Nightingale. The thought made her heartbeat speed up with excitement before it stuttered back to reality.
She wasn’t safe anywhere. Not really. And she needed to keep her eyes open and her mind sharp if she was going to find out what she needed to know.
She pulled her thoughts back to earth as Annabel beckoned for her to follow. They approached a group of women, some dressed with modern flair like Annabel, a few in old-fashioned ball gowns. As Annabel exchanged air kisses and pleasantries, Vivian’s eyes went to the beadwork on the women’s gowns. She had spent too many hours making dresses not to think about how long each panel would have taken to complete. It wasn’t until she lifted her eyes that she realized several of the women wore wigs and, in spite of perfectly rouged cheekbones and long, smoky eyelashes, likely lived their everyday lives as men.
