Harlem Nocturne

Part 9

She appeared out of nowhere, a couple months later, as she did that first night, making her way into his dressing room without much ado. 'I was waiting to hear from you,' she said, leaning in the doorway. Quietly, he poured some scotch. This time, he didn't offer her any.
'What's on your mind, kid?m'I'm on in a few, so make it snappy.'
She settled down on a chair, her dress folding around her legs awkwardly. 'There's something I need to talk to you about.'
'There's nothing to discuss. You had your fun. I had mine. That's it. The end.'
Outside, he could hear the audience filling up the place. He took a big swig of scotch.
'I didn't want things to end... like this. I hoped...'
'You hoped? You better hope your Mister Charlie don't find out nothing about us.'
'James? Is that what you're on about? '
Harlem shrugged. 'Ain't nothing on.' In the hallway, a door slammed. Men laughed. 'No, wait!' he said. 'Something is on. My band. My show.' He emptied his glass and made to get up.
Her shoulders sagged a bit lower into her dress. She gave him an odd look, timid almost. 'Don't go. I needed to see you. I... This ain't easy. This was the only way.'
'There's always a way,' Harlem said, pointing the bottle her way, then pouring himself another for good luck. He wasn't really sure where he was going with this. All he knew, with every little taste she grew more attractive. He wanted to get out of there. Her eyes grew wide. 'No Harlem, please, listen...' Outside, a lone trumpet started. A drawn-out intro. They had started without him. 'That's it. I... gotta go,' said Harlem and made for the door.