Free Amerika by Paul Lally

‘Thanks, but the pleasure was all mine. Quite an honor to work with those two.’
    She stopped in front of me and I was surprised at her height.
    ‘Jimmy Cagney’s not that tall,’ I said. ‘How did you... I mean, what did you...’
    ‘Mr. Cagney stood on his toes a lot.’
    ‘Never would have known.’
    She raised her eyebrows. ‘Movie magic, Mr. Carter.’
    She half-turned and said over her shoulder. ‘Are you going to spend the rest of your life in the shadows? Get the hell out here.’
    A short, egg-shaped man scurried out of the darkness into the light, eyes bright, hand extended, hair slicked back and smiling like there was no tomorrow.
    ‘Didn’t want to spoil your entrance, darling. Never would, never could.’
    I took his small, pudgy hand; like shaking hands with a dishcloth.
    ‘Name’s Nathan Siegel, I’m Ava’s agent, but everybody calls me Ziggy. You can too, Mr. Carter - and who might this gentleman be?’
    Orlando wiped the grease from his hand and took Ziggy’s. ‘Orlando Diaz.’
    ‘What a handle! I could get you movie work with a name like that.’
    ‘I prefer planes.’
    ‘In pieces or all together?
    The Bull of Key West just stared.
    ‘A joke, kid, a joke. Pay me no mind. I come with the furniture in the mighty House of Ava James.’
    Ava’s slightly hooded eyes lowered. ‘One of these days you’re going to talk yourself off a cliff.’
    ‘True. Don’t doubt it. Probably happen.’
    ‘And I won’t be there to catch you.’
    ‘True. Don’t doubt that either.’
    She turned back to me. ‘I have a proposition, Mr. Carter - Mr. Diaz, too.’
    ‘Wrong word choice,’ Ziggy said quickly. Don’t you mean -’
    A sharp uplift of her chin ‘Don’t tell me how to run a scene, okay?’
    ‘Sorry, kid. I’m a sphinx. Lips zipped. Promise.’
    He stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked up and down on his heels, a perpetual motion machine.
    ‘I’m listening,’ I said.
    ‘Have you eaten dinner, Mr. Carter?’
    ‘No?’
    ‘It’s always good to talk business on a full stomach, and I haven’t eaten since - since when, Ziggy?’
    ‘Chicago.  That’s where we refueled. Noon or so. You had half a sandwich, I had a…’
    Ava rode over his endless answer and said to me, ‘Your mother said the Blue Heaven was a nice place to get a bite.’
    ‘Not for us,’ I said.
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because...’ I stopped.
    ‘The color of my skin,’ Orlando added. ‘The Conchs, God bless their white hides, don’t like colored folks like me eating in their fancy restaurants.’
    Ava shrugged. ‘So where can we get something to eat without that kind of crap on the menu?’
    Orlando smiled. ‘ Sugar Cane Club’s got pretty good chow.’
    Ziggy said, ‘White folks allowed?’
    ‘The right kind.’
    The chubby agent straightened up. ‘I can assure you we’re more than that. We’re the best. In fact, just the other day, I was saying to -’
    ‘Knock off the sell job,’ Ava said. ‘You’ve got to forgive Mr. Siegel, gentlemen. Agents can’t stop selling. Especially this one. Even does it in his sleep.’
    ‘How would you ever know, darling?’ he leered.
    She rolled her eyes, patted her small wine-red shoulder purse and said.
    ‘My treat. Times wasting. Let’s go.’
     

     
    In all the years I’d been coming to the Sugar Cane , I never knew exactly what it looked like on the inside. Mostly because the cigarette smoke and dim lighting made everything look sort of vague. Liquor helped, too. But if you ever go there, don’t order something called the ‘Sugar Cane Special.’ Take it from me, it’s special all right. The next morning your head will feel like a sack of hammers.
    Ziggy ordered one, even though I warned him not to. Orlando did too, but he can hold his booze as good as his bible lessons. I figured Ziggy wanted to impress us. Be one of the gang.
    The three-piece combo was playing the intro to The Man Who Got Away.   The vocalist stood in the small spotlight waiting