Fiction Writing: Sing For Me

From my novel Sing For Me: A Chicago Story. Historical fiction set in Prohibition-era Chicago, drawing on archival research and period social history.

Alice took her time getting dressed on Sunday. Her voice was hoarse from a week of singing in the smoky Ricci’s speakeasy, so she didn’t hum like she normally did when she put on her kohl and lipstick. She carefully combed Hair Slik through her bobbed dark hair and put rouge on her high cheekbones, and as she studied her reflection in the mirror, she wondered whether Nick Angelini actually found her attractive. Did he think she was pretty like the flapper girls who came into the speakeasy every night? He could have any girl he wanted. Everyone knew who Nick was. He was Frank’s guy. He ran Ricci’s for Frank. So Nick could have whatever he wanted, couldn’t he? Why did he want a date to the pictures with Alice?

She sighed and stared at the ten dollar bill sitting on her boudoir. She’d never given it to the meat packers who had moved her trunk. Instead, she’d given them the two dollars each they’d been promised, and she’d kept the ten dollars from Nick with the intention of giving it back to him tonight. But it had been burning a hole in her little purse ever since he’d given it to her. She could buy a new dress or new shoes with that money, she thought. She could buy a new hat. Alice sighed and shoved the ten dollar bill further away, toward her little jar of mascara, and she began to sing quietly, her voice scratching,

“Everybody loves my baby, but my baby don’t love nobody but me.”

There was a honking from outside, and Alice rushed over to her window to see what the commotion was. She looked down from the second-floor window to see that Nick Angelini was standing in a pinstripe suit and hat beside a slick-looking Ford Model T. He tipped his head like he always did and gave a little wave.

“Nice digs, Alice,” he told her, and she called through the open window,

“You’re early, Mr. Angelini. Gotta give a girl time to get ready. I still need five minutes or so.”

“Sure thing,” he called back. “I’ll be waiting.”

Alice grinned and went back into her apartment, studying herself in the full-length mirror that had come with the furnished place. She’d chosen a crushed velvet dress in olive green, with black beading along the neckline and hem, along with a black beaded headband that sat along her slicked-up bob. She carried a simple black purse and wore black shoes. She probably looked less impressive tonight than she did on an average night at Ricci’s, but, then, she was expected to dress to the nines every single night for her job. This date was more of a relaxation event than anything else. Besides, she didn’t have to impress Nick Angelini. He knew what she looked like on her nights singing, and, anyway, he’d apparently been impressed enough to ask her on a date.

Still, when she walked out the front door of the apartment building, he whistled a little and said,

“My, my, Miss Dressler, don’t you look lovely tonight.”

“Stop it, Nick; I’m already wearing rouge,” Alice teased. “This car yours?”

“Sure is. I drive it myself and everything. Ready for a ride?” Nick asked. Alice felt nervous; she rarely rode in automobiles, but she climbed into the passenger’s seat when Nick held the door for her, and she stared out onto Halsted.

“So,” said Nick once they started driving, “We’ve been thinking about adding some instruments at Ricci’s. What would you think?”

“Instruments.” Alice raised her brows and turned her face. “Like… drums? Trumpets?”

“Yeah, like that. A real jazz band. We’ll keep Vera on piano, obviously,” Nick said. “We’re not gonna find any better than her. But we thought maybe we’d -”

“You want my honest opinion?” Alice interrupted, and Nick frowned deeply as he drove. He finally nodded and said,

“Well, yeah. I want your honest opinion, Alice.”

“I think it’s too much for that space,” Alice said. “It’s a small place, not a giant speakeasy. You’re not the kind of place with velvet booths serving Champagne in teacups to throw off Prohis. You don’t even have a dance floor in there. It’s the back of a restaurant. I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s great. I love Ricci’s. Love it. I really do. But if I ever sing with a band, I expect it’ll be at the Lexington Hotel or something.”

“You think you might sing at the Lexington, huh?” Nick smirked, and Alice felt her cheeks go hot. She shrugged and said quietly,

“You know, it could happen.”

“Actually, Frank Nitti was asked by Mr. Capone himself for a new singer for a wedding going down at the Lexington. Did you know about that or something?”

“No.” Alice snapped her face to Nick and felt her painted lips part. “No, I didn’t know about that.”

“Well, we put your name in the hat,” Nick said. “Maybe you’ll get to sing with your band, after all. And, anyway, you’re right. Things are going well at Ricci’s as it is. We’re full up every night with a piano and singer. If it ain’t broke…”

“Don’t fix it,” Alice finished for him. Soon enough they were at the Chicago Theatre. Alice was shocked to see Nick give the automobile valet a whole dollar as a tip, but then she heard Nick say,

“Mr. Nitti would like to make sure this Model T gets extra good care, you hear me?”

Maybe it was Frank’s car, then, Alice thought. Maybe Nick didn’t actually have his own car, after all, and he’d borrowed this one. That was an interesting thought. She took his arm and walked with him into the theatre, into the elaborate marble lobby.

“You know they have a nursery?” Alice said up to Nick. “So you could drop off your baby and go see a film. Isn’t that funny?”
“Hilarious,” Nick said, but he didn’t sound very amused. “You know what they don’t have? Gin.”

“No, they don’t have gin.” Alice rubbed at his arm a little, which he seemed to like very much. He tipped his head and stared down at her, and Alice wondered if she’d gone too far. She gave him a nervous smile and said,

“Let’s buy the tickets.”

The usher, who seemed like he was a veteran of the Great War given how stringently he marshalled the crowd, showed them to their seats, and as Alice sank into the red velvet chair, she whispered to Nick,

“This is nice. I haven’t been to a movie palace in… three years, probably.”

“Three years? Been that long since a guy took you out to a film, huh?” He unwrapped his Baby Ruth bar and handed Alice her red licorice, and she choked out a little laugh.

“Oh, no. I’ve never been to a film with a guy,” she said. “It was with my parents, before I left home.”

“Why did you leave home?” Nick asked, chewing a bite of chocolate bar. He sipped his bottle of Coca-Cola and studied Alice’s face curiously. She licked her lip, staring down at a piece of licorice, and she said,

“I wanted to sing. Good Jewish girls aren’t supposed to run off and sing in speakeasies, you know.”

“Good Jewish girls marry good Jewish boys, huh?” asked Nick, and Alice raised her eyes and nodded. The film started then, a swashbuckling adventure about pirates with Douglas Fairbanks and Billie Dove. It was romantic and terrifying all at once, and Alice adored it. By the time it was over and the usher was marshalling them out of the theater, she found herself profusely thanking Nick for the night at the pictures.

“It was my pleasure, Miss Dressler,” he said primly as he opened the door to their valeted car. Alice slid up into the passenger seat, wondering just whose car this was, and as Nick put himself in the driver’s seat, she wondered out loud,

“Does Mr. Nitti take good care of you? Seems like he should. You work awfully hard for him, I think.”

Nick laughed as he drove away from the Chicago Theatre. He nodded and smiled a bit and said,

“Yeah, he takes real good care of me. You know, this is my car. I mentioned his name so they wouldn’t scratch it. I bought this car myself. Someday, though, Alice, I’m gonna be bigger than Frank Nitti.”

“Bigger than Frank Nitti.” Alice raised her eyebrows, and she watched Nick’s high cheekbones go pink in the light of passing street lamps as he assured her,

“Someday, Mr. Capone is gonna personally know me. He’s gonna know my name; he’s gonna work directly with me. That’s gonna happen, Alice. You mark my words.”

“Okay.” Alice was frightened all of a sudden, for some reason, of Nick Angelini.

Nicky Angelini is bad news. That was what Vera had said. What would Alice’s mother say about a man like this? Riding alone in a car with a man like this?

Alice steeled herself as they pulled up to her building. She opened her door before Nick could even turn the car off and come around to open it for her.

“Gotta let a guy be a gentleman,” he complained, smirking at her, and he glanced up to the second floor. Alice knew what he was thinking, but she wasn’t going there. Not tonight. Not so soon. 

“Maybe someday I’ll show you my new place,” she said lightly. “Thanks again for a really swell evening, Nick.”

“Yeah.” He turned his face back toward her, and he nodded vigorously. “Thank you, Alice. I had a grand time.”

He reached up then to tuck her hair behind her ear, and Alice shivered a little where she stood. She thought maybe it would be rude to not at least kiss him goodnight, so she whispered,

“Just once, on the lips, real quick, Mr. Angelini.”

“Okay.” His smile widened, and he bent down to touch his lips to hers. He’d have a little lipstick on him, Alice thought distantly. He probably wouldn’t mind. He breathed in deeply as he kissed her, and suddenly Alice contemplated asking him upstairs. Then she realized that would be the dumbest move she could possibly make, and she let him stand up and pull out his handkerchief and dab away her lipstick.

“Goodnight, Mr. Angelini,” she said quietly, and he nodded crisply.

“Goodnight, Miss Dressler.”