Page 115 of Meet Me on Greenwood

"Now, what have I told you about tobacco," I said. "It is bad for your health. There are much better herbs you could try that won’t poison you."

He spit again. "There you go again with that," the sheriff groaned. "Next you’ll be telling me to always wear a rubber when I fuck my woman."

The men behind him laughed. I did my best to school my expression. "It’s not a bad idea," I said.

He wiped the stray tobacco from his lips. "I’m surprised you don’t have that girl with you."

"Sarah and I called off the engagement."

"Yes, I heard." He leaned back, giving orders to his men. "Do a perimeter walk. I’ll get Dr. Whitaker on his way."

The men looked skeptical, but they all fell back. Sheriff Sterling waited a bit before turning back to me. "Now, you know good and well I wasn’t talking about Sarah."

I stiffened. "Who were you talking about?"

He adjusted his hat. "That negro woman. It is all over town how you’ve been carrying on with her."

At the sound of the slur, I tightened my hand on the gun, pushing away the murderess thoughts in my mind.

"Please do not speak of her in that way."

He carried on as if I hadn’t spoken. "Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been with several of them. They are magic in the bedroom, but—you don’t cancel your wedding over them."

I wanted to pull my gun on him and empty the clip. It would be easy. He wasn’t expecting it. But then I thought of Gema, and how I’d be putting her in even more danger. We had to leave this place I realized. We’d never be safe here.

"I appreciate your counsel, Sheriff. If you don’t mind, I’m really late."

He tipped his hat, patting one hand on the hood of my car. "You take care tonight. Don’t stay out too late."

The way he said it was ominous, almost like a threat. "Thank you," I said, before peeling off.

The ball had started two hours ago, so I had to park a few blocks away. I’d visited the hotel when it was being built, but there was something special about seeing it all put together. The lighting alone was impressive.

As I approached the door to the ballroom, an usher held me back. "My apologies, Sir, you will have to wait until Mamie is done. It should only be a few minutes."

I pulled out my pocket watch. It was 9:00pm already. "Are you sure, I can’t just sneak in? I won’t tell anyone."

He looked at me apologetically. "I am sorry. Mr. Stradford himself insisted. You can get a complimentary cocktail at the bar if you like."

"I’ll wait," I said, tapping my foot. I knew it wasn’t his fault, but I wouldn’t feel whole again until I laid eyes on Gema.

"You can watch from the balcony right there. It is a spectacular view," he said.

I nodded, taking the stairs two at a time.

The balcony overlooked the ballroom and the usher was right. It was a great view. I gripped the railing and looked down at the full sweep of the event, understanding why the usher had made me wait.

Mamie Smith owned the room in the way only she could. She was mid-song, something slow and deep that the band beneath her could barely follow. The whole room listened, swaying like they couldn’t help it.

Even from the balcony, I felt it. I stood, watching the room give itself over to her completely. Black and white faces alike were mesmerized by her voice. For the length of the song, no one in the room was divided by skin color. Her voice was like a balm, soothing everyone’s pain, if only temporarily.

As she finished, the lights came up, and I scanned the floor, noting that despite this being a mixed event, everyone still kept to their side of the room.

Then I found her, standing in a group of women. The big curls hanging down against her bare back were slightly askew.

She wore a green dress that accentuated every curve. I loved the way she moved in it with such confidence. She was laughing at something the woman beside her said as the woman reached over to fix Gema’s hair. The laugh was real, but it was polite—nothing like the deep laughs we’d shared together.

I breathed a sigh of relief. She was safe. She was here.