Page 69 of The Wondrous Life and Loves of Nella Carter
The glowing marquee of the Marshall Hotel dusted well-dressed Black folks in warm light, their skin glistening, the ladies’ beaded flapper gowns sparkling, and the men’s top hats as shiny as oil slicks, all eagerly awaiting the doors to open and the night to begin. The night held the promise of jazz music, illegal spirits, and feet gloriously sore from dancing. I stood with Nathan and Willa, eager butterflies flitting in my stomach as I adjusted and readjusted my new dress and gloves and jewelry.
As the line moved, a tide of bodies flooded the ballroom, gradually settling into a sea of draped tables and elegant chairs. I realized how long it had been since I’d belonged to something. The salons of Paris were the last time I’d sat in the presence of live music, listening as orchestras and composers tested their pieces before intimate crowds.
Nathan’s friend, the bandleader, had reserved us front-row seats for the night’s festivities. The jazz music poured over me, the ingenuity of it electrifying. Invitations to dance came fast and furious alongside the sidecars and hanky pankies. The buzz of the prohibited alcohol flowed through my veins, allowing me to lose myself in the sway of the dancing bodies and the feeling of a man guiding me along the rhythm.
“You’re beautiful,” a man whispered in my ear, and I let myself feel that way that night.
The dance ended promptly at ten o’clock, and with it, the sadness of the quiet settling through the space that had once been vibrant with music and revelry.
“That was wonderful! Thanks for the invitation,” I said to Willa as we headed back, arm in arm, along West 135th to our apartment building. Nathan followed a few steps behind. The gas streetlights lit the path.
“I’m just so glad you could come,” Willa gushed. “It was amazing to be out on the town.”
“I haven’t had a night like this in ages.”
“I did notice thatyouwere never short of attention,” Willa said appraisingly. “Green is your color.”
“Well, I guess that shopkeeper was right. The gloves were a worthy investment then.” I stretched my hands up, letting the streetlights bathe them in light.
“I’m surprised, Nella.Youfell for a salesman’s patter?” Nathan said, unbuttoning his collared shirt. “You always seem so sure and confident. I didn’t think anyone could get anything over on you.”
“You’d be surprised,” I said, thinking of the winding road of my past. “Anyway, he was right in the end. We only regret the things we end upnotdoing.”
And I regretted nothing. It had been a lovely evening, and it had been nice to go all out, dressed to the nines. Alcohol still buzzed through me as I tried to hold on to the magic of the night. As we turned on 142nd, the streets hummed with a well-dressed crowd leaving another venue. We greeted each other, passing through the large group until a familiar face made me pause.
I stopped right then and tapped the man on the shoulder.
He turned on his heel. “Ah, my favorite customer.” His skin was golden under the flickering gaslight, his smile steady and sure.
“Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.”
“I’m no devil,” he said seriously, then reconsidered, “though it depends on who you’ve been talking to. You’ve been speaking of me? I’m flattered.”
“Only to tell my friends of these gloves you goaded me into. What are you doing all the way up here?”
He stopped and tapped his chin, squinting up toward the streetlamp. “Well, see, that’s a very philosophical question. What is ‘here,’ anyway? What’s life’s purpose? One for the ancients, really.”
“Stop it. You know what I mean. Why are you this far north?” Meaning, in the colored section of town.
“If there’s action, I’m there.” He smiled widely, glancing at me, then my friends. “Why are you here on this fine evening?”
“We’ve just left a dance at the Marshall Hotel. Willa, Nathan, this is the shopkeeper I met the other day. His name is ...”
“Adam, Adam Herriman. Now, I know everyone’s name but yours. How can that be?”
“Tessa Thorpe.”
He tipped his hat in my direction. “Glad to make your acquaintance, Tessa.” He noticed my gloves. “I see you found an occasion.”
I admired my right hand. “They weren’t doing much good in the box.”
Adam grinned. “I told you you’d like them. I decided to use the color combination as inspiration.”
“Inspiration?” I asked. “For what?”
“For my clothing line.”
“Clothing line?” Willa arched her brow with interest. “I thought you were a shopkeeper.”
