There was plenty of time so I let her sleep and going into my room, I shaved and put on a clean shirt.
I took my tuxedo from the closet and spent a little time sponging and pressing it. It was on its last legs, but it would have to do until I got enough money to buy another.
At a quarter to nine I went into her room and woke her up.
‘Okay, champ,’ I said. ‘Get moving. You have half an hour.’
She seemed pretty listless, and I could see it was an effort for her to drag herself off the bed.
Maybe she really was hungry, I thought. I couldn’t expect her to give a performance if she was as bad as she looked.
‘I’ll send Carrie out for a sandwich,’ I said. ‘It’ll be up here by the time you’re dressed.’
‘Anything you say.’
Her indifference began to worry me. I left her as she began to strip off her jeans. I went down to where Carrie was airing herself on the doorstep.
I asked her to get me a chicken sandwich.
She came back with it in a paper bag about ten minutes later and I took it into Rima’s room.
Rima had got her dress on and was sitting staring at herself in the fly blown mirror. I dropped the bag into her lap, but she brushed it off, grimacing.
‘I don’t want it.’
‘For the love of Mike…!’
I caught hold of her arms and hauled her to her feet and gave her a hard little shake.
‘Snap out of it, will you! You’re going to sing tonight! This is your big chance! Come on! Eat this goddam sandwich. You’re always moaning about your hunger! Well, go ahead and eat it!’
She picked up the bag, took out the sandwich and began to nibble at it. When she got to the chicken she hurriedly put the sandwich down.
‘If I eat any more, I’ll throw up.’
I ate the sandwich myself.
‘You make me tired,’ I said with my mouth full. ‘There are times when I wish I’d never met you.
Well, come on! Let’s go. I told Willy we would be there at half past nine.’
Still eating, I stepped back and looked at her. She looked like a fragile ghost as white as old ivory with dark smudges under her eyes, but in spite of that, she did manage to look interesting and sexy.
We went down the stairs and out onto the street.
It was a hot night, but as she brushed against me, walking down the street, I could feel she was trembling.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ I demanded. ‘Are you cold? What is it?’
‘Nothing.’
She suddenly sneezed violently.
‘Cut that out, will you?’ I yelled at hex. ‘You’ve got to sing tonight!’
‘Anything you say.’
I was getting fed up with her, but I kept thinking of that voice. If she began to sneeze all over Willy Floyd, she would make one hell of a hit with him.
We got on a street car and rode down to 10th Street. The car was full and she was pressed up hard against me. Every now and then I felt her thin body quiver into a shaking fit. She began to worry me.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked her. ‘You’ll be able to sing, won’t you?’
‘I’m all right. Leave me alone!’
The Blue Rose was crammed with the usual hard-bitten bunch of near-successful, near-honest business men, the near-beautiful floosies, the bit players from the Studios and a sprinkling of gangsters out for an evening’s relaxation.
The band was playing a slick line of hot swing. Waiters were chasing and sweating, and the atmosphere was thick enough to lean on.
I shoved Rima ahead of me until we reached Willy’s office. I knocked, opened the door and moved her inside.
Willy was cleaning his nails, his feet on his desk. He looked up and scowled at us.
‘Hi, Willy,’ I said. ‘Here we are. Meet Rima Marshall.’
Willy stared at her and nodded. His small eyes went over her and he grimaced.
‘When do we go on?’ I asked.
He shrugged.
‘I don’t care. Now, if you like.’ He lowered his feet to the floor. ‘Are you sure she’s good? She doesn’t look all that hot to me.’
With an unexpected flash of spirit, Rima said, ‘I didn’t ask to come here…’
‘Pipe down,’ I said. ‘I’m handling this.’ To Willy, I said, ‘Just wait. For that crack, she’s going to cost you a hundred.’
Willy laughed.
‘Boy! She would have to be something for me to part with that kind of money. Well, come on. Let’s hear what she can do.’
We went out into the restaurant and stood around in the semi-darkness until the band stopped playing.
Then Willy went up onto the dias. He told the boys to take a rest, and then he announced Rima.
He didn’t give her much of a build up. He said here was a little girl who would like to sing a couple of songs. Then he waved his hands to us, and we were set to go.
‘As loud as you like,’ I said to Rima and I sat down at the piano.
Most of the people hadn’t even bothered to stop talking. None of them gave her a hand.
I didn’t care. I knew the moment she opened her mouth and let out that stream of silver sound she would stun them fast enough into silence.
Willy stood near me, frowning. He kept looking at Rima. He seemed worried about something.
Rima stood by the piano, staring expressionlessly into the smoke laden darkness. She seemed completely at ease.
I began to play.
She came in dead on pitch. She sang the first six or seven bars like a professional. The tone was there.
The sound was pure silver. The rhythm was right.
I was watching her. Then it began to go sour. I saw her face begin to sag. She lost pitch. The tone turned brassy. Then abruptly she stopped singing and she began to sneeze. She leaned forward, sneezing, her hands hiding her face, her body shaking.
There was a horrible silence except for her sneezing. Then a buzz of voices.
I stopped playing, feeling cold chills chasing up and down my spine.
I heard Willy yelling at me: ‘Get that junky out of here! What the hell do you mean bringing a hop head into my place! Get her out! You hear me? Get this damned junky out of here!’
CHAPTER THREE
I
Rima lay on her bed, her face half hidden by the pillow, her body shaking, and every now and then she sneezed.
I stood at the foot of the bed and watched her.
I should have known, I told myself. I should have recognised the symptoms. It just hadn’t occurred to me
