Four men burst through the door and, on cue, Rosie’s voice booms from the stage. All at once, Doc’s comes to life with music and laughter. Blanche and I hop down from where we’re perched on the bar top, Blanche complaining that her gams are too tired from dancing to stand.
No surprise, Mr. Champagne Cocktail sidles up to the bar. Blanche gets to fixin’ him his drink. The night gets busy, the door swinging open to let more people in, again and again, right on schedule.
“Blanche,” I say, looking up from where I kneel, putting some new bottles beneath the bar.
“Yes’m.”
“Elephant ears?” I prod as I stand.
She laughs. “Forgot I said that. So, those, they’re huge, ain’t they? Like two car doors on either side of Clyde’s head.”
I roll my eyes. “Don’t be silly. His ears are fine.”
“If you like ’em big. Though what ain’t big is that boy’s height. No sirree. Sure glad Buck got different genes.”
I narrow my eyes. “Clyde ain’t short, Blanche. He’s taller than me.”
“There!” Blanche smiles smugly. “You did it again. It’s curious you’re defending a fella you ain’t interested in.”
“What’s curious is, A, how you’re picking out the flaws of a boy you want me to fancy, and B”—I allow my irritation toward Blanche to get a bit catty, wanting to get under her skin—“how you’ve been with Buck all this time, yet he still hasn’t told you his real name.”
Now Blanche is the one to narrow her eyes. But considering she doesn’t fire back at me, I don’t know if I’m the one she’s irritated with.
I let her stew, pouring a tumbler of whiskey to busy myself so my mind doesn’t drift back to Clyde. I take a small mouthful before turning my attention to Mr. Champagne Cocktail. “How those stocks of yours doing? Buster make you rich yet?”
He takes a sip of his drink, runs his tongue over his lips. “That dip in the market left many scared; I’m no exception. The weekend showed some promise, even if there were some happenings yesterday that got people panicking again. I’ve got all my money in her, save what’s in my pocket, and I intend to use it so pretty girls can serve me drinks. Best distraction, if you ask me.” He winks.
I shake my head at his flattery and raise my glass. “To your prosperity.”
We clink, but he doesn’t lower his glass, keeping it pressed against mine.
“What’re your dreams, sweet Bonnelyn?”
His question catches me off guard. Teaching, sure. But I clear my throat, the last few years running through my head, days where my dreams involving Roy, involving companionship, took a dip—a big one—and never recovered. I still want that. My daddy would want me to have that partner in life.
The door to Doc’s opens, and a prick of excitement stirs in my belly as I watch a boy who has perfect-sized ears—and perfect timing—walk in.
“Guess you could say I’m figuring out my dreams. But,” I say slowly, “they may’ve recently been given another chance.” I pause, my gaze flicking to Clyde. “If I let ’em.”
Mr. Champagne Cocktail clinks his glass against mine again. “I’ll drink to that.”
Clyde walks up to the bar, but there’re no seats. He stands there awkwardly, behind Mr. Champagne Cocktail, hands in his pockets, and it may be the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
I meet his nervousness with spunk, shouting over the room’s volume, “Doc’s two days in a row?”
“It’s more so that I want to see you two days in a row.”
Well damn. Mr. Champagne Cocktail chuckles as he turns and puts a hand on Clyde’s shoulder. “I think this seat will do you more good than me.”
“How sweet,” Blanche says, as Clyde taps his knuckles on the stool, not sitting. “You wanted to visit your future sister-in-law?”
It takes a second, but a smile cracks Clyde’s lips. “Actually, I wanted to see if Bonnie has a break coming up.”
Blanche takes a bottle from my hand, freeing me to go. I almost don’t let it go, not sure I’m ready to step out from behind the bar, to have nothin’ in between Clyde and me. Then he can touch me, prickling my skin with intrigue.
But I ain’t a believer in accidental happenings. After all those nights of sitting outside the Supper Club, I caught Roy cheating the one time I ventured inside. And now Clyde has walked into Doc’s at the exact moment I toasted to second chances.
“I’ll cover for you with Mary,” Blanche says to me, “if Clyde tells me what Buck’s real name is.”
He looks back and forth between Blanche and me, clearly confused, but also amused. “You must be skunked if you think I’ll double-cross Buck.” He points to the ceiling—I’m assuming at Buck’s apartment. “He’ll pull out that Colt on me. But I’ll give you a hint, which should cover Bonnie for a few minutes. Six letters.”
Blanche’s forehead creases. “You’ll be lucky if that gets you sixty seconds. You better hurry, Bonn.”
She pushes me toward the bar’s partition, and I duck under it, grabbing my coat as I go.
No words pass between us as Clyde and I go up the stairs, through the doctor’s office, stopping at the door. Clyde helps me into my jacket, his fingertips trailing over my neck and leaving behind a trail of goose bumps. I break the silence with a soft, “Thank you.”
It’s a cool autumn night, and, outside, the air feels good against my flushed cheeks. Up and down the block, the streetlights cast halos of light. Clyde extends his arm for me to loop mine through, and as we walk from one halo to the next, I jump from thought to thought, finally landing on, “The song you sang me was beautiful.”
“You mean our song?”
My cheeks flush. I hesitate. “About that…”
“I’m coming on strong, ain’t I?”
“Yeah,” I say, honestly.
Clyde laughs, a real deep-bellied laugh. “Blanche was right. I hate when that happens.”
A smile cracks my lips. “Me too.”
“Here’s the thing, Bonnie—I’ve been waiting awhile to meet you.” His free hand touches the arm I have looped through his. But then, as if he thinks better of it, he stuffs his hand in his pocket. “I came to the church the day you got married.”
I gasp and remember Blanche’s glance at the church doors in the middle of the ceremony.
“I couldn’t stop my feet from bringing me there, after seeing you at Doc’s the week before. But I couldn’t interfere with your happiness, if you truly were happy with that other fella. But when he left that first time—”
“When you helped Buck search my house.”
“Yeah. Well, I saw him—your husband—walking up the stairs to Buck’s place. It took all my strength not to stop him and give him a piece of my mind, and maybe even a black eye for ruining my chance to finally meet you. Then, after that fool left the second time, I was itching to see you. But Blanche said it wasn’t a good time, that you’d push away any man who came knocking.”
“She was right.”
He stops us, and his body leans forward, toward me. “What ’bout now?”
Glow from the streetlights light up his face—a face so vulnerable, so honest—and I push aside my fear that I could be hurt again. Doesn’t stick, though; those thoughts come back like a boomerang. I let out a breath and say, “Roy took a lot from me, and I’m just now getting my feet under me.”
“I don’t want to stand in your way, Bonnie. I want to stand by your side.”