Jezebel

trick. Celestepulledherself up by the bootstraps. No more showing up late for thetroupe’s daily practices or not at all and no more juke joints.
But seemingly overnight,something snapped. Ever since theyleftSt. Louis, she’d done a complete three sixty. She barely madeit throughlast night’s performance, missed this morning’s practiceand tonight’s double performancesaltogether.
Grown folks could do whatthey wanted, but when it affected Tookie’sprofit margin something had to give. She’d turned a blind eyelong enough! With each circuit, Celeste’s antics had become alltoo common and tonight she’d become a liability.
Molly,one of Celeste’s many enablers, waited for her outside thegirls’ dressing room. Tookiesnorted, as if a lookout would soften her friend’s impendingcoup de grace.Upon spotting her, the girl shoved away from the door with the graceof a dancer.
Tall, lithe andlight-skinned, the New York native could have easily found herself aspot within the higher end clubs inManhattan likethe Plantation Inn or even the Cotton Club.
But one couldn’tremainstatic and outrunan abusive husband. So she’d chosen the circuit three yearsago. All her girls were running from something or someone, Tookiemused. Still,herpast didn’tdissuade her from punishing her right along with her friend.
“Hey, Ms. Tookie,”Mollygushed. The pink stainingher highcheeks made her look much younger than her twenty-nine years, whichwas way overthe hill by show business standards. “I was looking for you.”
Tookieignored the girl’s effusive greeting and bold-facedlie. “I’m docking youfor missingtonight’s show. Now scram.”
Sputteringover the pay cut,the girl stepped aside.
Unmindful of the costumes onthe floor and dressing tables dusty from too much powder, Tookiepicked her way to the rear of the dressing room. Out of habit,Celeste usually took a space in the back.
“Thatpaycut isn’tfair, Ms. Tookie,”Mollyprotested,finally catching up with her.“We were just trying to help. You see—”
“Save it! I’mfed up to here,” Tookiewaved her hand above her head for emphasis,“with excuses for that gal’s behavior.”
“Whowould replaceher? She’s the star of the show.”
Tookiehadn’t become a successful business woman without some cunningor at least a plan Bor C.“She wasone of the stars,but I plannedon replacing her.” Withthewell-guarded secret lifted from her shoulders, Tookieexhaled.
On the other hand, Mollylooked like she was about to suffer an epileptic seizure. “W-w-whoare you replacing her with?”
“I’ve had Wilmasecretly learning all of Celeste’s moves.” Yes, she wasanass, butbusiness was business and her backup plan would save hers.
While Mollydigested the news, Tookiereturned to her mission. The sooner she got this over with, thesooner they could all move on.
Tookierounded the last dressing table. And her bravado immediately fell bythe waist side at the sight of her star. Garbed in a white silkdressing gown, she lay prostrateover a dressing table. Figures.She was stonecold drunk.
Tookiereached out, but she stopped, arrested by the sound of muffled sobs.In her haste, she’dmissedthe entirepicture.
Celeste’s jet blackhair partially covered her sweetheart-shaped face and her slimshoulders shook. Delilah,another enabler, sat beside her, rubbing her back and cooing words ofcomfort.
Tookietook a deep calming breath. She could not and would not break. Noteven for a few crocodile tears and her genuine fondnessfor the girl. When not drinking, Celeste could be an absolute angel.Hardworking and compassionate, she never spoke an unkind word and wasgenerous to a fault.
Once, when they came acrossa Negro family strandedon thehighway,Celeste didn’t hesitate in giving them money forfood andrepairson their car.
Remembering the girl’scharity and how it galvanized everyone in the troupe, Tookiesoftened her approach. Herapproach altered, shepulled up a chair and sat down.
For good measure, Tookiereached inside her dress pocket and pulled out a handkerchiefembroidered with yellow daisies. Her sister Ethel mailed it andseveral others to her for her birthday lastMarch. Notwanting to stain the fine linen with boogers and what not, Tookieshove it back into her pocket.
Unfortunately, DelilahhadwitnessedTookie’sgesture of momentary kindness because she swiped the handkerchief andthrust it into Celeste’s hand.
Met by more muffled sobs,Tookielooked to Delilahfor answers. Celeste never mixed tears with booze. Loud andboisterous under the influence of alcohol, she remainedthe life of any party. There hadto be somethingmore to this than simply falling off the wagon.
“Celeste, honey, whydon’t you tell me what’s wrong? What’s got you sodown?”
Sniffing, Celeste sat up andcupped her chin in her hand. Despite the dried up tears staining herhigh cheek bones and the bags underscoring her dark almond shapedeyes, she remained traffic-stopping gorgeous.
When Celeste blew her nose,Tookienoticed the yellow paper balled in her fist.Stepping out on a limb, she asked, “This doesn’t haveanything to do with that telegram you received theother day in Columbus?”
“Everything,”Celeste sniffled.“Mydaddy’s dead.”
Tookiereached out and placed her hand over one of hers.“Mycondolences, Sugar Foot.It hurt mesomething awful when my daddy pass—”
“That’s thething,” Celeste pulledher hand free and jumpedup. She executeda step heel turn to the center of the room. For someone whose poresreeked of King Kong liquor, she was pretty light on her feet. “I’mnot sad.”
Tasting lemons of thesourest kind, Tookiepursed her lips. She should’ve heeded her ex-lover and mentorBeau River’sadvice and taken on an all male revue. The return on a mostly femalerevue was huge, but when shefigured in all the drama and tears, she barely broke even.
“Then why were you allover town singing the blues at the bottom of a mason jar? And whydid you miss tonight’s performances?”Tookieremindedher, shelvingthe compassionate act.
Celeste rocked back andforth to a private melody. “Am I blue?” she asked in asing-song tone.
“I don’t knowthat’s what I asked you.” Before she even finished hersentence, Tookieknew she’d been set up.
Celeste confirmed it byperforming a soft shoe combination consisting of a scuff dig ballchange. “Am I blueamI blue,” she sang in perfect pitch rivaling Ethel Watersherself, “maybe, but so would you, if your daddyhated you.”
Herstar’ssmile lost its bravado and turned watery. Sheopened her mouth and her words ended in a ragged sigh. Despiteher shenanigans, Tookie’sheart went out to the girl. “Don’t you think hate is alittle harsh, Sugar Foot?”
Celeste’s slippersslowed to a soft scrape back and forth. “From the day Iscreamed my way into the world and stole my mama’s last breath,my Daddymade it his business to make my life a living hell. Nothing I did wasever good enough, which meant I wasn’t good enough.”
“What about yourcareer?” Delilahasked. “You’re one of the best on the circuit, aheadliner.”
Celeste snorted.