The Magic Keys by Albert Murray (i wanna iguana read aloud txt) 📗

his very first professional gig. There wouldn’t be any problem with that at all, because the man wouldn’t put you in there with all them thugs in the first place if that was going to be a problem. And then in the second place when he picks somebody they all know he already has plans for him because he represents something that he wants to fiddle (hey, dig that) fiddle around with at least for a while and ain’t nobody in there ever question the Bossman on anything like that to my knowledge. Not in that band. Hell, in that band they never know what they themselves are going to have to adjust to next.

No, he said, looking at me while still talking to her but signifying at me even so. No, the way we all see this young soldier here is that he’s one of the ones that was gifted and lucky enough to go to college. And serious enough to make the most of it. Now he has all kinds of options to pick and choose from.

So you see what you got yourself into, Miss Lady, he said as Stewart Anderson came in from the hallway that led to the dining room and kitchen. Eunice already knew that when Royal Highness had said what he said about the rest of us he was referring to Stewart Anderson, formerly of the old vaudeville comedy team known as Stewmeat and Small Change and his wife, Cherry Lee, née Cherie Bontemps, who were not only his business partners who ran a restaurant for him but also shared and took care of his extensive four-bedroom apartment.

Looka here, looka here, Stewmeat Anderson said, heading straight to Eunice, who stood up to great him. Yes, indeed, he said. And then he said, I’m Uncle Stew, and I just want to say don’t be no stranger up this way, and you don’t have to wait for him to bring you back. And as for you, young fellow, what can I tell you? I’m not surprised.

His wife, Cherry Lee, had come in then and poured herself a glass of muscatel and she said what she said about us all being from down home and gave me a peck on the cheek on the way to lock arms with Eunice and take her outside to show her the twilight view of Manhattan from the terrace. It was as if she actually had known that it was something Eunice was expected to be shown because I had written to her about it after my first visit.

As I was saying, Stewmeat Anderson said, I’m not a bit surprised that you turned up with a solid stone fox that is also one more fine and I mean certified fine lady like this one, my man. Not after what everybody was saying about how impressed they were with the way you handled yourself in that department all across the country. But now let me tell you this. Man, every last one of them thugs would bet hard money on anything you decide to have a go at. Like when you decided to stay out in Hollywood for a while, for instance. So far as I know, not a single one of them accused you of being dazzled by all that hyped-up glamour and glitter out there. It was something you wanted to stick around and study for a while and that was that, and here you are to prove that they were right.

And as I said what I said about how in my case you had to learn how to tell the difference between good looks and well-stacked availability (even if coy-seeming) on the one hand and a truly certified stone fox on the other in order to make it out of Mobile County Training School let alone out of Mobile and into college, I was also remembering that nobody in the band knew anything at all about me and Jewel Templeton, not even Joe States. The only one I ever told anything about that was Gaynelle Whitlow.

The band had not swung back to the coast while I was out there on my own, but I wouldn’t have ever mentioned Jewel Templeton if it had. Not even to Joe States. If somebody in the band had found out about us, that was another matter. But any mention of it by yourself would raise questions about whether you were taking all the make-believe in stride for what it is. After all, how could you ever forget what happened when you said what you said to Ross Peterkin about what happened with Fay Morgan after the Beverly Hills party following the opening night at the Palladium. I hadn’t been taken in and exploited by Fay Morgan and I still think that Joe States knew as much but he still let Ross Peterkin lecture me as if I had allowed myself to be used, as if I were a horny greenhorn just to make sure and also to see if I would take the reprimand in my stride.

Now me myself now, Stewmeat Anderson said as we stood up but finished our drinks before following his wife out into the hall and into the dining room, I lucked out. But now, you see, showbiz was my biz in the first place, so what the audiences paid to come to see as something ever so glamorous, I knew damn well was always also a matter of greasepaint. I’m not going to try to tell you that what I saw across the footlights didn’t have much to do with it, because it had a hell of a lot to do with me taking notice of her in the first place. But the girl I married is the one I met and got to know backstage.

The main course that night turned out to be possum with sweet potatoes plus side dishes of mustard greens and stir-fried medallions of okra with bits of steak of lean, which they decided