Haunting Melody (5 page)

I was in! A real Follies Girl! The other
girls left. I stood alone, looking like a lost sheep. I had no idea
what to do next or where to go.

Saree and Briley emerged from the wings.
Saree hugged me like we’d been friends for years. She reminded me
of Savanna with her humor and ability to let her emotions show
without fear of the consequences. I missed my best friend terribly
but was thrilled that this chorus girl seemed to want to fill in
for her.

Saree’s grin lit the stage. “I knew you could
do it. Where did you learn to dance like that? You picked up those
steps so fast I thought Ned would ask you to teach everyone
else.”

I answered, “Been taking classes down in
Memphis since I was four.”

Briley handed me my Elvis carryall. “By the
way, you left this in the dressing room. I knew it was yours
because no one else would carry such a ridiculous piece of luggage.
Perhaps that’s why your imaginary thief didn’t steal it?”

I silently took the bag, grateful he hadn’t
peeked in and seen some of the wonders of the next century, like my
ATM card with the dates clearly printed as to start and expiration.
And my new cell with the nine-gazillion apps. I wondered if roaming
charges could be levied due to time travel?

Briley continued his little speech. “So,
you’re in the show. Congratulations. And just what report will you
give Steve Clow concerning today’s audition? That jealousy exists?
Perhaps you can spice it up in the usual Brevities fashion. Lie.
Say that hair-pulling and eye-scratching were part of the day’s
events as well.”

I marched up to Briley until I was inches
from his face. For once I was glad I was six feet tall. I needed my
height to feel less intimidated by him.

“Look, McShan. You obviously have one major
thick skull. Let me emphasize this. I never even heard of Mr. Clow
until you mentioned his name. And I don’t report my activities to
anyone. Now, get off my case.”

An expression of confusion crossed Briley’s
face. “Case? What case? Since you supposedly were robbed, I don’t
see any luggage except for this absurd looking purse with some
man’s picture painted on it. Which I’m in no way sitting on.”

“Lorda mercy, it’s just an expression! From
down south. It means 'quit botherin’ me about stupid stuff.' And
that’s not ‘some man’. That’s Elvis!”

“Who in tarnation is Elvis? Some crazy friend
of yours?”

“Elvis is the best singer of the 20th
century.”

Saree intervened before a full-scale war
erupted between the stagehand and me.

“Stop it, you two. Briley, I believe Melody
when she says she’s not working for Clow. Now, the girl’s just been
through a very long audition and she looked kind of sick earlier.
She needs some food and some rest.”

Briley nodded. “I agree with the food and
rest. That faint was no fake.”

I wrinkled my nose at him in an admittedly
childish gesture. But he was being aggravating, suspicious, and
totally inhospitable. He and I stared at each like cats engaged in
a hissing battle. Again, Saree intervened. “Mel?”

“Yeah?”

“Where are you staying? Do you have a
room?”

I went pale. “Actually, no. I thought I’d be
able to just wing it when I arrived. Dumb.”

Briley was shaking his head. He looked as
though he was about to start cross-examining me again when Saree
took charge. “Perfect. I have a friend who just left for Atlantic
City for a job at the Savoy. Her room’s available. She told me
she’d love to have someone stay there while she’s gone so it’ll be
waiting for her when she gets back. She even left a lot of clothes
and she’s a doll - she wouldn’t mind if you borrowed some. She’s
not quite as tall as you – who is? But they’ll probably fit you
anyway. Briley?”

“Yes,
Miss-Butting-Into-Other-People’s-Business?”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “I have to
go. I have a date. Could you take Melody to Bettina Markams’s
place? Remember where? We picked Bette up there for The Count’s
last party.” She swept on without awaiting Briley’s response. “Mel.
See you tomorrow. Now go and get some sleep. Flo’s reputation for
very long rehearsals is true. I’m sure tomorrow’s will be a killer.
‘Specially since he’s adding you and that other girl in. Sorry I
can’t stay and help. Bye-dee-bye.”

Saree took off in a flurry of waves and air
kisses. Briley and I were left alone in the wings. I took a deep
breath and faced him with a too-bright smile on my face.

“So, where is this apartment?”

“Near Washington Square Park.”

“I live there! I mean, I’ve dreamed of living
there.”

Briley was quick to respond to this comment.
“No. You said live there and you meant exactly that. Just when did
you arrive?”

I smiled sweetly. “I told you. Today - not
long before I got backstage.”

Briley scowled. “Why is it I have trouble
believing you? If you are in some kind of trouble, everyone in this
company will eventually be involved. Please tell me.”

I stiffened. “I’m not in any kind of trouble.
Now, I’m ready to see this apartment. How do we get there?”

For a moment I thought Briley would continue
to quiz me but he simply answered, “Subway train or streetcar.”

“Streetcar? Neat.” I frowned. “Oh crap. I
mean, oh my. I just realized I have a serious problem. I don’t have
any money. How am I going to pay for the room? Think a landlord
would give me credit until my first paycheck from Mr.
Ziegfeld?”

Briley’s left eyebrow lifted. “I must be
wrong. You can’t be a spy. No one is that inept. The day a landlord
takes credit in Manhattan is the day a rocket flies to the moon.
Since you’re now part of the Ziegfeld family, I’ll pay for the
room. Anyone with as many problems as you seem to have obviously
doesn’t need to be wandering the streets.”

I looked up at him. He was suddenly being so
nice I almost told him rockets flying to the moon were no biggie
any more. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it I’m not such a cad that
I would bother a lady for a few dollars of her hard-earned pay.
Consider this a gift.”

I felt horrible. Briley didn’t like me and
now was offering charity. So, naturally I got pissy. “No, thank
you. I’m not such a gold-digger that I would take money from a man
I don’t know. Or from one I do know, for that matter. What do you
think I am?”

Briley looked deeply into my eyes. “Good
question, Miss Flynn.”

“If we’re going to constantly argue, could
you at least call me Melody or Mel?”

He paused then smiled. My pulse
quickened.

“I imagine that wouldn’t kill me. Call me
Briley.

He held out his arm for me to take then
whistled. Duffy scampered out from the darkness backstage.

“Come on D.G. And Melody. Manhattan
awaits.”

He deliberately gave the dog first billing. I
suppose he wanted me to realize that I was just an afterthought and
continue to be annoyed with him. Fine. Better that way. He could
simply escort me to the rooming house and neither of us would
concern ourselves about the other again.

A thought that hurt - a lot.

I didn’t miss a step as we rounded the corner
of E. 12th St. even when Briley motioned to the building and
escorted me up the front stoop. Duffy ran on ahead, barking, tail
wagging maniacally. I knew this brownstone quite well. It was old,
gothic in architectural design, and remarkably unchanged from four
o’clock this morning, when I’d drunk tea with Fiona Belle Donovan
Winthorp on the third floor.

Instead of a tiny lobby, with fifteen or so
mailboxes, a creaky elevator, and a large radiator pressed into the
wall, the 1919 version seemed more like a small hotel. There was
even a front desk counter with a ledger thingee on it. Behind the
desk stood an extremely short lady with intense black eyes and dyed
black hair. Knitting needles were stuck into the middle of the bun
made of her hair. They were perilously close to falling out, as was
the bun. She was dressed in black, except for a white apron around
her round middle. Stains that must have come from a pot of
spaghetti created bright splashes of artwork all over the apron.
She grinned at Briley and me with the whitest, prettiest teeth this
side of a Crest commercial. She waved chubby fingers in the air
toward Briley and me. She was a dead ringer for Fiona Belle Donovan
Winthorp.

“Well, Faith and Mr. Muldoon! Just look at
ya, there. You’re a tall one. Red hair - a good Irish lass. Come
about Bettina’s room? ‘a course ya did. And ya brought along such a
fine-looking laddie. I’ve met ya before, haven’t I? And what a
darlin’ puppy.”

Briley gifted the lady with a genuine smile.
I stood there with my mouth hanging open.

She turned to me. “Don’t gawk, girl. It’s not
pretty.”

Déjà vu all over again. Fiona Belle’s exact
words at four a.m.

Briley made the formal introductions. “Hello,
Mrs. Donovan. I’m Briley McShan. I was here about a month ago with
Saree Goldman. Do you remember? She’s a good friend of Bettina
Markham. She sent me with Miss Flynn today to ask whether she could
stay in Bette’s room while she’s in Atlantic City. Melody doesn’t
have a place to live yet and is very new to New York.”

“But a’ course, darlin’.”

The Irish lilt in her voice was growing
thicker with every phrase. She’d be performing selections from
Riverdance soon. That lilt had been non-existent hours ago. A
century ago.

“Sure as yer born, lad, I remember Saree.
Fine lass. I’m so thrilled that this puir charmin’ dear will have a
place to stay in the city. T’will help Bettina with the rent money.
Faith, she was goin’ to pay me while she was gone so she wouldna
lose the room. I was feelin’ terrible for her. What did ya say yer
name was, darlin’?”

“Melody Flynn, Mrs. Uh, Donovan.” How in holy
relativity had the old witch landed in 1919? Or perhaps she’d never
left. Perhaps I’d been caught in a time warp since first knocking
on the door of Apartment 314 this morning.

I tried a bit of irony. “It’s very nice to
meet you. I’m so grateful for having the chance to live here. It’s
already home to me. And it’s like I met you - about a hundred years
ago.”

She shook my hand so fiercely I worried about
breaking my wrist then she thrust a pen at me and asked me to sign
the register. I dipped the darn thing into the inkwell, hoping I
wouldn’t leave giant Rohrshock splotches all over the page.

Briley was quietly explaining the
circumstances of my recent arrival as he knew it, including my lie
about the mugging incident and the fact that I was now duly
employed at the New Amsterdam Theater for the run of the 13th
Edition Ziegfeld Follies. I almost told him not to bother. Mrs.
Donovan doubtless already knew since she’d engineered my travel
arrangements to this time period.

Briley paid for the room while Mrs. Donovan
dug under the counter for a key. Duffy ran around in circles
through the lobby, sniffing plants and pawing tall cigarette
stands.

“Okey dokey. I’ll show ya to yer room now. Ya
come too, Briley. Bring the pup. I dearly do love dogs.”

True. She’d dognapped mine just this morning.
I hoped her clone, time-traveling buddy or broomstick-riding self
was taking care of Lucy in the future. I missed my dog. A lot. As
that thought crossed my mind, Mrs. Donovan closed the elevator
door, turned and winked at me. At least, it looked like a wink.
Could be she had dirt in her eye. I decided not to respond in case
it was the latter. Maybe this was Fiona Belle’s grandmother from
Kilkarney County or something and she honestly knew nothing about
my true circumstances.

The minute our quartet stepped out of the
elevator I turned to the left without a break in stride. Even the
room number was same. #413.

Mrs. Donovan gave me the key and wished me
well, then whirled around and was gone almost before I could say
thank you. I guessed she wasn’t concerned about the propriety of
having Briley in my room. A Briley who looked extremely
uncomfortable finding himself alone in what was essentially a
bedroom with Melody Flynn, future girl.

He held out his hand to shake mine. I took
that as an obvious goodbye.

“Well. Melody. This looks nice. Well. So I
suppose I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow? Remember you need to go
early for your costume fittings.”

“Yes, I remember. Thanks for everything
you’ve done, Briley. I appreciate it.”

I reached down and gave Duffy a big hug. Two
paws gripped my shoulders while a tongue lovingly slimed my face.
Briley tried to pull the dog away, but it was taking some work.

“Melody, I almost forgot. Here’s some money
for transportation and for food. Should last for a week or so,
until the theatre pays you. If you need more, just ask me
tomorrow.”

I grimly took the coins, hating feeling
beholden to anyone, much less someone who didn’t trust me and
probably didn’t even like me.

“Thanks.”

I turned away. I wanted to cry. The day had
caught up with me. But I needed to cry alone.

“Melody?”

“Yes?”

He stopped for a second then said, “Nothing.
I’ll see you at the theatre tomorrow?”

He started to leave, then turned back around.
Duffy sat with his head tilted and ears cocked, listening to every
word uttered by both his master and his new friend.

“Look, are you going to be okay here? You’re
really a stranger here and you weren’t exactly hale, hearty and
raring to go when you rather magically appeared backstage.”

What was this? Concern?

“I’ll be fine. Really. I’ve had a good meal
now thanks to you (we’d eaten at a diner on the way to the rooming
house) and Mrs. Donovan seems more than capable of helping in an
emergency. I’m not going to faint again, so don’t worry.”