Your Poetry Dot Com

Cabs were lined up all along the street in front of the Graystone Ballroom letting people out. Our cabby doubled parked and I gave him a sawbuck when he opened the rear door for us. Jean started walking beside me into the Graystone with a "I don’t care who you are and what you think" swing of her hips. Guys with other dames couldn’t take their eyes off her. I had to admit she was a real piece of property holding onto my arm. Before entering, she stopped to fit a cigarette into her long black holder. I lit it for her.
The building housing the Graystone was a ten story office building on Woodward and Canfield. The ballroom was on the second floor with wide balconies overlooking Woodward Avenue.We walked in the front door finding ourselves before a sweeping marble staircase with hand-carved railings. Steps led up to elaborate bars serving snacks, ice cream and soft drinks around the dance floor. Nothing in the way of booze was being served. From the ceiling a Tiffany chandler give light. There were triangular glass light fixtures on the walls as well. The bouncers all wore tuxedos.
We found a table near an exit leading out to a balcony alcove. A silent film was being shown there. We didn’t want that so we just sat down and for a few minutes listened to the Cotton Pickers play the sweetest jazz this side of heaven. Her eyes were wild with excitement. She spoke suddenly." Take me out on to the floor. I want to dance."
Before I knew it, she was doing Charleston steps I didn’t know existed. All around us others were doing the same. Things were really jumping. We danced for a time when a near voice I knew very well cut through the music. It was Izzy and he’d showed up much earlier than I thought he might.
" Mind if I cut in?"
With quick reply I shrugged my shoulders. " How can I refuse anything to Detroit’s king?"
He gave me a short smile and turned away dancing with Jean.I went back to the table and lit a cigarette. He hadn’t come alone. Purple Gang members were standing at different spots around the ballroom ready for anything that might threaten their boss.
When the Cotton Pickers took a break, Izzy and Jean came back to the table sitting down exhausted. Taking a flask from my inside pocket I handed it to him.. "Try this. There’s nothing here but soft drinks."
He took a drink and passed it to Jean. She had a nip handing it back to me.He spoke across the table.
" I’m taking the speedboat out on the lake tomorrow . It’s new and I want to see what it can do, if it’ll be able to outrun anything the feds have. I’d like you and your girl to come along. You’d have fun.
" Nothing I rather do."
" I’ll pick you up at the hotel about three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Right now though, I got to shove. There’s some important business I got to take care of." He spoke to Jean. " You’re a queen and this guy doesn’t know how lucky he is."
She gave him one of her wondrous smiles . "I keep telling him that."
" See you then." He left. After much more dancing, we quit Graystone about two in the morning returning to our hotel. Izzy brought his Duesenberg around to the hotel about four o’clock the next afternoon and drove us to Lake Saint Clair where he kept the speed boat. He gave us windbreakers to wear having us sit in the rear seats where we’d have the most fun feeling the boat’s power making circles and zigzags. We weren’t alone in the boat. Two of the gang members were in boat’s, middle seat compartment. Izzy lit a cigar, clamped it between his teeth and put the boat in gear shooting away from the dock with a tremendous roar of power soon churning up the water behind into a rooster tail of wake.
The boat’s speed pushed me back in my seat with its acceleration. Cold wet spray, came against my face. Jean started laughing and yelling at the same time, hands hitting at my arms in excitement. Her hair went blowing free to the wind. The roar of the inboard engine was in our ears shutting out everything else.
We went into a sharp turn throwing me heavy against the compartment’s side cushion. Jean came with me, body pressed hard with centrifugal force. Izzy turned grinning, the cigar at a forty-five degree angle between his teeth.
We rode like that for half an hour making sharp turns, curves, circles, and fast straightaways. We ended across the lake at another dock. The dock was an extension of a private residence where a party was in progress around home’s swimming pool. The Cotton Pickers were at the far end of the pool playing that sweet jazz we’d heard last night at the Graystone Ballroom.
When we walked up to greet the guests around the pool, we met their hellos. We had been brought to a Sunday afternoon party at his place on the lake. Izzy led us over to a special friend who was turning hamburgers over on the barbecue.
" Wayne, this is Big Al and his friend, Jean. They were with me in the speedboat."
He stopped work putting the long handle spatula down extending a hand. I shook it. He was dressed in brown slacks with a white dress shirt open at the neck with sleeves rolled up. His hair was black, combed straight back with a lot of oil in it. He wore two tone dress shoes, black and white. His teeth were good. Some gold showed when he smiled. Izzy left to talk to some other friends.
" Glad to meet you, Big Al. Any friend of Izzy’s is a friend of mine." He spoke to Jean. "Have fun in the boat?"
She gave him quick reply. " Oh, yes. It was the most fun I’ve had since the hogs ate my little brother."
He laughed looking more closely at her. I could see on his face that Jean had hit the right note.
" Yes, that would about do it." He spoke back to me.
" Big Al Berger? I’ve heard of you. How’s business?"
" Can’t complain."
" Wouldn’t do you any good if you did, huh?"
" No, I guess not."
"Here, have a hamburger." He lifted one off the grill putting it on a paper plate handing it to me. He did the same for Jean. " Mustard, ketchup, onions, everything else you might want is over there on the table."
" Thanks, we’ll do that." I gave him a few more words before turning away."Music sound good too."
" Nothing but the best around here."
We went over to the table, helping ourselves to its bottles and dishes. We found a place to sit on a bench a little distance from those around the pool. A gentle breeze was coming in from across the lake. It rustled the leaves of near maple trees. Apple trees and evergreens were also there. Daylilies with other landscape plants trimmed red brick walkways spoking out from the pool to other areas. We stayed until midnight talking and dancing. Izzy had a couple of his men speed us across the lake to where the Duesenberg was parked. They drove us to the hotel letting us get out. Next day we caught the train back to Chicago.

This poem is Copyright Â© ramfire