Page 54 of When We Were Enemies
I stare at the card, the bus doors creaking closed behind me. This is the open call I’ve dreamed of attending, the agency that could potentially transform my career.
“MCA? As in Jules Stein? Or ... uh ... Benny Goodman and ...”
“The Dorsey brothers, Guy Lombardo, Kay Kyser. Yes. All of them.”
I take his card with trembling fingers, admiring the raised letters printed on stiff off-white paper. The bus engine revs as it drives away.
ARCHIELOMBARDO
MUSICCORPORATION OFAMERICA
TALENTSCOUT
“Mr.Lombardo ...”
“Archie. Call me Archie.”
“I’m just the singer. You’d need to talk to Frank Broward, our bandleader. I’m sure he’d be very interested.”
Archie tilts his head and takes out a cigarette, no longer out of breath but looking overheated. He lights it and then takes a deep inhale before letting out a cloud of smoke that catches in the streetlight like fog, and then he spits a stray piece of tobacco into the street.
“The band ain’t invited, doll. That’s for you.” He points at the card. “I put the times on the back for the call. Wear your prettiest dress and bring a nice photo. Anything will do if it’s wholesome, but you seem to got that act down already.”
“Act?” I ask, turning the card over, wondering if someone’s setting me up for a big joke.
“That little ‘pure as the driven snow’ thing. It’s a compliment. I promise.”
It’s not exactly the praise he claims it is, but I’m too busy taking in all the numbers and words on the card to care. I already know the audition is a little less than a month away. It’s at an address in an unfamiliar part of Indianapolis. I’d have to get the car and the day off. I’d need to save up gas money and fix up one of my dresses to look professional enough for the call. I’d need a photograph and an excuse to give papà. I’d need ... a miracle to happen.
My hopes deflate, and I slide the card into my purse without another word.
“I can count on you being there, then? Right?”
“I’ll try,” I say, and it’s the closest I can get to the truth without lying. “I’ll try, but I probably won’t make it” is what I should say.
“Listen, missy. You’ve got it. You know what I mean by ‘it,’ right? You’re cute and got nice legs, and you could model, sure, but you’ve also got something on that stage, and not many girls your age have it.” He points to the dance hall with his cigarette. “You have all those boys dreaming about you tonight and all those gals wishing they could do what you do. That’s one room of people in one little town. One day it could be the whole country or the whole world; you know that, right?”
It’s like all my fantasies have come to life, but I know this isn’t a dream because in a dream I would say yes unequivocally. I wouldn’t have problems with mothers or fathers or expectations or money. Instead, I watch the smoke from his cigarette twist into the sky, drifting away like a dream upon waking.
“I ... I better go. Thank you for this.” I hold up the card, the most priceless item I’ve ever had in my possession and possibly the most useless.
“Wait. I promised you a taxi.” He points to the taxi stand across from the bus stop. The idea of riding in a cab anywhere sounds so cosmopolitan, but I don’t know how I’d explain it to my father.
“Oh, no thank you. But it was nice meeting you, Mr.Lombardo,” I say, shaking his hand lightly.
“Archie. And it was my pleasure, Miss Snow,” he says, placing his hand over his heart with a short bow. “See you on the first?”
I don’t say anything in return. With a quick curtsy, I walk away, down the street and toward home. If I walk quickly, I can make it there before the next bus even shows up. I’m only a little over a mile from my house. Plus, I need some space to think, away from Mr.Lombardo, away from his charming words and his eyes that see far more in me than I ever have.
CHAPTER 17
Elise
Present Day
Camp Atterbury
“This is for you,” Mehrvash, or Ash as she suggested we call her, says as a little girl in a long-sleeved blue T-shirt and patterned cotton pants holds up a coloring book page. She’s neatly filled in a dog character with markers and added little hand-drawn stick figures smiling and waving.
