Excerpt from The Phoenix

Nick’s new life has no room in it for Kit. And though surrounded by friends and adoring fans, Kit finds himself lonely. But there’s always his good friend and leading lady, Rama, who loves a good time as much as he does, even though to her sorrow she’s almost ready to admit Kit will never change enough to love her. This is a fun episode that takes place before a shocking tragedy.

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That night, someone knocked at Rama’s door as she brushed her hair. She groaned, hoping whoever it was would leave her alone. She was tired, and with no performance tonight, she had looked forward to doing nothing. The knock came again. Muttering curses, she clutched her dressing gown closer around her and padded barefoot to the door. She didn’t give a bloody damn if her unwelcome visitor was shocked by her state of undress. She was surprised to see Kit standing there with a bouquet of roses large enough to choke a dray horse.

“Kit? What in the world?” She took the roses and he thrust out a small white box, saying, “This is for you, too.”

“Have you lost your mind?” she asked with delight. “Or have you done something I need to forgive you for?” As she shifted the flowers to her other arm, one breast was half-bared. Toffee!” she cried. “My favorite. Oh, it’s a taste of home.”

“Ye be showing an uncommon amount of fair bosom, me pretty,” he said with a stage leer.

“I only wish you cared,” she retorted. “Come in.”

He sauntered in, helped himself to a toffee, and sat down with his arms spread wide upon the top of the sofa. “Take your choice, wench. Either put on a fancy gown and we’ll invade the first high society party we can find, or throw on something less swell and we’ll find a low dive where we can kick up our heels.”

Her eyes brightened. “Like we used to do at home? That was such fun! Remember the five pounds we won doing a polka? You let me buy a hat with it.”

“The hat that looked like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.”

“It did not! It was a lovely hat. Remember the names we used? Sebastian O’Toole and Pomegranita Snark. Oh, I’d much rather do that than go to some society thing.” To her surprise, she was no longer tired.

##

They found exactly the kind of place they wanted: small, dim, noisy, and vulgar. Kit was startled to see not only young white faces among the dancers and drinkers, but several dark faces as well. A dingy bar ran the length of one wall; small tables lined the opposite wall; a small dance floor was in front of the small stage, and on the stage a Negro trio skillfully played a piano, a banjo, and a trumpet. The music they cranked out was the exciting music called Ragtime that Kit had heard for the first time on tour in New Orleans.

Several patrons recognized Kit and Rama and egged them on until they stopped dancing, took the stage, and performed a burlesque of Romeo and Juliet, with Rama, as Romeo, wearing Kit’s coat, and Kit wearing her feathers-and-flounces hat as Juliet. The people howled with laughter and applauded, whistling.

Bored with that, Kit turned to the band. “Ragtime,” he said. “That’s what I want. More Ragtime. Play it until I drop.” They laughed and broke into the strident, syncopated, wailing music. He turned to Rama and said, “Do you think you can keep up with me, Granny?”

“Just try to keep up with me, Oldtimer.”

What the steps were to Ragtime, if there were any set steps, he didn’t know. It didn’t matter. He and Rama made up their own. The music got into their heads like champagne and into their feet like the thrill of a standing ovation. She lost her hat and her hair became a red whirlwind about her shining face. The other patrons stood back and watched them, applauding, then joining in one at a time or in couples to make up their own dances, too.

It was near dawn when Kit and Rama finally left to walk back to the hotel. They meandered with his arm over her shoulders, her arm around his waist. She murmured agreement, and then said, “This is as good as the old days.”

“Are you happy, Rama?”

“Happier than I’ve been for a long time. I wish this night would never end.”

“Next time we’ll go to Coney Island. I’ve heard it’s ‘Splendiferous’ ”

A shiver of anticipation chased through her. She’d heard all about Coney Island and the Elephant Hotel, with its exotic rooms in various parts of the elephant’s anatomy. The Elephant had a raffish reputation for assignations. If she could inveigle him into the Elephant, by God, she’d have him. She tightened her arm around his waist and said wistfully, “Kit, won’t you ever change? I mean, won’t you ever want to marry and have children, a wife who looks after you and darns your socks and washes your clothes? Won’t you ever love me the way I love you?”

“No, my dear. Does it really matter?”

“It matters to me. I want you to take me to bed, make love to me. Oh, Kit,” she cried softly, “you could drive me out of my head if you just would.”

“I’ve made love to you thousands of times before thousands of people.”

“That’s meaningless!”

He stopped and turned her to face him. “How can you say that? Rama, if I didn’t feel a certain passion for you, it wouldn’t work. Do you think when I am Romeo to your Juliet that it’s a lie? Do you think my Macbeth is not besotted by his lady just because I don’t leap into your bed when the curtain falls? I wouldn’t expect anyone else to understand, but I thought you did.”

She searched his face. He meant it. With a little sigh she turned, slipped her arm around his waist once more and they resumed walking. “I never thought of it that way,” she said.

At her door he kissed her. Inside, she closed the door and leaned against it. Thinking of what might have been. What might still be, if she played her cards right. She knew beyond doubt that she could change him. All she had to do was get him to that Coney Island Elephant.