Lily wasn’t sure she liked the speech. It felt like a fraud, as if Shirley were trying to flatter the judges into voting for her. “I like the curtsy at the end,” Lily said.
“But do you think it’s enough to win?” Shirley asked. “I didn’t sell enough raffle tickets.”
“You can still win,” Flora declared. “You’re so much prettier than the other girls. I saw the one who sold all those tickets to the Six Companies—she has a face like a cow.”
“Flora,” Mary admonished her. “That’s mean.”
“It’s true,” Flora insisted. “If Miss Chinatown is supposed to be a beauty queen, then Shirley should win.”
“What do you think, Lily?” Shirley asked. “You’re so quiet.”
There was a subtle challenge in Shirley’s tone, and Lily knew she was supposed to say something encouraging—that Shirley was the prettiest of all, that she would surely win or else those judges were all blind idiots. That was the price of admission to Shirley’s circle, and Lily had paid it before. It was easy enough to continue paying it, but she didn’t want to anymore. Lily realized she’d stopped wanting to pay her fee a long time ago. All she wanted right now was to get this dress rehearsal over with and go to the Telegraph Club with Kath.
“Miss Chinatown is about supporting Chinatown businesses,” Lily said finally. “The judges don’t care how pretty you are—the girls are all pretty enough. They only care how much money you’ll bring in. You know how it works.”
Flora gasped, and Mary frowned, but Shirley gave Lily a look of grudging respect.
38
When Lily got home after the dress rehearsal, Frankie was sick with a stomachache. As she waited for him to settle down and for her parents to go to bed, she watched the hands of the clock move toward and past the hour she usually went to meet Kath. By the time the flat was quiet, she knew Kath had left their meeting spot. She hoped Kath had gone ahead to the club to wait for her.
Outside, the streets were thick with fog, and she doubled her scarf around her neck. Every headlight, every streetlamp had a nimbus around it, an otherworldly glow, and the air itself seemed to press against Lily’s body. It clung to her like smoke, like a cloak, making her feel as if she must be invisible. It was as if the city itself were helping to hide her.
The Telegraph Club’s neon sign shivered in the distance. Music drifted down Broadway; disconnected laughter floated on the air. She was a ghost gliding through the streets. She was a fish sliding through dark waters. She was at the door of the club, and there was Mickey, who said, “Your friend’s already inside.”
“Thank you,” Lily said, and stepped through the doorway.
The club was warm and loud and smelled as it always did of perfume and cigarettes and beer. Lily heard Tommy crooning through the speakers. The bar area, which she had never walked through alone, was a long line of women turning to look at her. She felt as if she were on display, and part of her wanted to hide, but another part thrilled to it: this being seen, as if every person who gazed at her were creating her anew.
She paused in the archway between the bar and the stage room, loosening her scarf in the warm room and scanning the tables for Kath. Every face was turned toward the stage, where Tommy stood spotlighted, singing “Secret Love.” Like every time before, there were a number of couples—men and women—seated close to the stage, the women somewhere between enthralled and embarrassed, the men wearing knowing smiles. Lily wondered what they thought they knew. She was pretty sure they were wrong.
She spotted Kath seated with Jean and Jean’s college friends in the leftmost corner, toward the back. Lily might not have seen her at all, because she was largely in shadow, but Kath leaned forward to light a cigarette, and the flare of the lighter drew her attention. The flame briefly illuminated Kath’s face; her hair was swept back and parted on the side, like a man’s. It startled Lily to see her like that, and she suddenly felt selfconscious. She was wearing her new dress, the one she told her mother she’d bought to wear to the pageant, but had actually chosen for tonight. It was tighter than the dresses she usually wore, with a lower V-neck than she was used to, although it was still quite modest. But in this room, among these women, her new dress was a declaration. If she went over to Kath and sat beside her, everyone here would know what it meant.
Tommy began another number, a lively one that involved her flirting with the women around the edge of the stage. Lily remembered how she had once fantasized about Tommy singing to her at one of those tables, and her fantasy seemed so na?ve now, so silly. A schoolgirl dream. She recognized the smile on Tommy’s face as she leaned down to serenade a brunette in a maroon cocktail dress. She looked so flattered, so eager.
Lily looked away. She began to weave her way toward Kath, who seemed to be looking around too. Lily thought she saw Kath put down her cigarette; she thought she saw the slightly paler shadow of her face rise up, as if she were standing. “Excuse me,” she whispered, bumping into strangers’ chairs, slipping around women standing at the rear of the room. When had the small stage room become so large and filled with so many obstacles? She wasn’t even paying attention to Tommy’s show anymore.
At last she was there, and Lily recognized the set of Kath’s shoulders even though she couldn’t see her face, which was only a blur in the smoky dimness. “Kath,” she whispered in relief. It had only been a few hours since she’d seen Kath at school, but it felt as if days had passed.
“What happened?” Kath whispered. “I waited, but then it got too late.”
Someone nearby shushed them, and Lily grabbed Kath’s hand and pulled her back through the stage room and into the hallway that led to the stairs. The alcove beneath the stairs was empty, and Lily drew Kath into its shadows, her skin already flushing with anticipation.