Page 113 of Meet Me on Greenwood

I embraced her. "I’m so happy for you."

"You’re going to ruin my mascara," she laughed. "Thank you," she said before getting into the passenger seat, while the rest of us slid onto the slick red leather.

Edith sat partially on the trunk, her feet dangling into the seat.

"Is that safe?" Sally asked.

"Come on! Live with me. You’re not afraid are you, Gema?"

I was half tempted to analyze the trajectory of where we would land if Bernie had to brake suddenly, but decided that the drive was short enough and it was a special night. It was my last night in Greenwood.

There was little parking as it appeared the whole town was attending the ball. It was shocking to see white patrons entering into the same establishments as Black patrons. For once, it was not us walking into their world. It was them wanting into ours.

"That is the Mamie Smith effect," Rita said.

Bernie dropped us off at the front doors. Bellhops rushed to help us out and onto the green carpet that was rolled through the Stradford’s open doors.

Music greeted us, and the chandeliers J.B. had fretted over shone brightly, reflecting off the stone floors like glass. The lobby had been completely transformed. Fresh flowers banked every surface—white and cream mixed with deep green leaves, their scent mixing in with perfume, and candle wax, and the faint warm scent of hors d’oeuvres. A doorman in white gloves drew back the green curtain that led to the ballroom. After he unhooked the cord, we were able to see all the guests below. There were both Black and White women in sparkling gowns, and men of both races in their finest evening clothes moving through the same door without incident.

One thing that caught my eye was how the two groups did not mingle. There was still clearly a Black side of the room and a White side, though it was not delineated by anything but the people themselves, as if they were unwilling or too afraid to intermingle.

"Right this way," an escort said, as he guided us down to the main floor. He paused when he reached the tables. He was a white man, and he suddenly looked uncomfortable. "Where would you like to sit?"

"We will sit with our people," Sally said, speaking for the rest of us.

I quickly scanned the room for Houston. He wasn’t supposed to arrive until later, but when he did, I wondered where he would sit.

More flowers were neatly placed at the center of the table. Waiters came by with refreshments and tiny bites of food. I was told we were to start the evening with a jazz band, before Mamie took the stage. After that, the ball would begin.

I just needed to wait until the lights went dark, and I would make my exit.

42

Houston

Warns Mob That Death Trap Awaits Their Attack

"You are making it too tight, Lettie," I complained as she worked my bow tie.

"Hold still. I have never seen someone squirm so much with a tie."

I pulled at my collar to give me some breathing room. Lettie smacked it away. "You are suffocating me," I gasped.

"I’ll be damned if I allow you out of this house with a crooked bow tie. There, that should be it."

I turned around to look in the mirror. I’d decided on a white suit, after Gema told me her gown was green. I couldn’t wait to see her all dressed up.

"I better get going," I said.

"Where are you going?" Paul asked for the thousandth time that evening.

I sat next to him on the couch, meeting his eyes. "Remember when I said I was going to a fancy dance with Gema?"

He smiled. "Gema. I like her."

"I do too," I said, patting his hand. "Just remember, I saw her first."

"Who?" he asked, confused.