Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20A | 20B | 21 | 22
PART I
SPEAKING IN TONGUES
23
A WEEK AND A half later, Trey watched Marina closely as he seated her in a beautiful red velvet seat at Midland Theater. She was nervous, which he ascribed to the fact that she was wearing a dress. It was a beautiful dress, but all wrong for her.
Once Trey had taken his own seat, with Dot on his left, he leaned toward Dot just a little and whispered, “Does Marina know the Reverend Missus deliberately dresses her like a red-headed stepchild?”
Dot blinked, shocked. “Uh … I’m not sure,” she whispered back. “You can tell?”
“Any halfway successful businessman would be able to tell,” he said tightly. “Mama turned out just right. Marina, not. Letting her run with you—and it isn’t because you’re a good chaperone.” Dot’s lip curled a little but she didn’t protest, which meant she knew that or at least suspected it. “Put it all together, it’s obvious. How does that work?”
“Hrmph. She gives Marina the fabric and a picture and tells her to make that for herself. Marina knows she doesn’t look as good as the model, but says she can’t figure out why. I don’t know if she could dress herself well if she did know. Either way, she’s not going to disobey.”
“Find out.”
Dot scowled. “Do it yourself.”
“Tsk tsk tsk. Marina can walk out with me. You can’t walk out with Gene without me.”
She snarled at him.
“Dunham,” Gio growled.
Trey snickered and sat back in his chair, adjusting his suitcoat, crossing his legs, and perching his fedora on his knee. He glanced at Marina. She wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to him, as she was gawking at the magnificence of Midland Theater without seeming to gawk at all. That was a trick it had taken Trey months to learn.
He was slightly surprised that Marina could be stunned by such elegance, as Scarritt’s office was just as rich in a much tinier space. Yet as much as Trey wanted to ask, he had a feeling it wasn’t strategically wise.
“Every time I come here,” he whispered to her, “I feel just a little bit richer.”
She started. “Richer?”
He nodded. “In experience. Knowledge.” He tapped his temple.
“Oh,” she breathed, beginning to smile.
“And more motivated,” he added confidentially. “I wouldn’t want to live in such opulence, but I aspire to be able to.”
She pulled her bare lips between her teeth and blinked. “I see.”
He had no idea what that meant. It probably wasn’t wise to ask. Trey had never been wise. “What are you thinking?”
“Is money important to you?”
“What if I said yes?”
She looked like she’d been hit with a shovel. “I … Jesus told someone to sell everything and give it to the poor.”
“And then what?”
“And then he went away because he didn’t want to.”
“No, I mean, what would happen to him if he had?”
“Well, if he followed Jesus then he would have been provided for, by faith alone.”
Trey pursed his lips. “That’s a soul-killing way for a man with a modicum of pride to live,” he said gently. “Your father follows Christ—” Heh. “—and he doesn’t preach for free. Churches are set up to pay their clergy for a reason and that is because folks can’t live on faith.”
“But he is living on faith,” she said matter-of-factly. “He has faith the congregation will support him.”
“Would he continue to preach if they stopped?” She hesitated. Not wanting to make her feel stupid, he said, “Tell me the parable of the talents.”
She blinked, gazed at the faraway flocked red wall, then blinked again.
He waited.
Waited.
Waited.
Surely she knew …
“The two parables almost contradict each other,” she murmured vaguely. “Jesus praised the servants who had doubled their money, but giving all one’s money to the poor means you’ve no talents left to double.”
“Goddamn,” Trey whispered.
She looked at him as if she hadn’t heard him. “It’s not totally … um … ” She raised her hands, palms apart a little and shifted them. “Aligned. I mean! Um, no.”
“Analogous.”
“Yes!” she said with a bright smile. “Not really. But if you give all your money away, that’s all. You can’t give any more than that, and then you’re poor and begging for money from someone who still has some. You’re saying Father works. He doesn’t beg or depend on charity just because he’s a fisher of men.”
Trey couldn’t help his grin. “There you go, hopping over all those lily pads again. You went across two whole ponds that time.”
“Well,” she returned, “I’ve never heard those two compared before.”
“Few people do. Fact is, the more you make, the more you can give.”
“Do you give?”
“Yes,” he said truthfully, although he wasn’t giving his own money away. Time, jobs, advice, information, second and third chances, yes. Money, no. “It’s not good form to brag, so that’s all I’m going to say.”
She gave him that sweet smile, the one that plumped up her face, dimpled her cheek, and made her skin glow rosy. He smiled back wryly at her and lifted her hand and pressed his mouth to it. She flushed and tried to hide her deepening smile, to pull her hand away from his, but he was too wrapped up in the faint scent of perfume.
“Have you been picking lilacs?” he asked softly and let her take her hand back.
“Yes,” she murmured shyly.
He wished he hadn’t let her hand go, but asking for it again would be awkward, so he said, “Are you sure you haven’t heard Gershwin before?”
“Of him.”
“Your church has quite progressive praise worship. I’m surprised your home isn’t full of music.” What a lie.
“Mother doesn’t like music.”
That didn’t surprise him. “At all?”
Marina shook her head. “Not even the praise band or choir.”
Trey didn’t blame her for that. The music wasn’t awful, but it didn’t have to be great to get the blood pumping. “Do you like the praise band?”
She hesitated. “I … think they’re … ” Either she couldn’t find her words or she was being polite. “I’m not sure,” she finally said with some frustration. “They’re all right, I suppose. Dot says at her church, they don’t even have that much. An organist and congregational singing. She’s never said anything about a choir.”
Just then the lights went down and she settled in next to him. It was odd that he found himself still wanting her hand back in his, dithering over whether to be that forward considering his end game and time constraints. The emcee spoke, but Trey didn’t hear a word. There was her hand right there and he was hesitating. Why?
The hall grew quiet and Marina was already still with anticipation, completely unaware of Trey’s nervousness. What was so wrong with wanting to hold a girl’s hand? He was Trey Goddamned Dunham and he could have any woman he wanted and he was sweating over this girl?
The dulcet clarinet trill startled him. He hadn’t been paying attention to the curtain, the conductor, the crowd—no idea the piece was about to begin.
Suddenly angry with himself, he sank into his chair, slumped a little, crossed his arms over his chest, and sulked.
• • •
Marina had never heard a more beautiful and exhilarating piece of music in her life, but of course, she hadn’t heard many pieces at all. She loved this immediately, even before the piano came in, before the cymbals crashed and she thought surely Mother would like this! Wouldn’t she?
Father had allowed Marina to come out tonight as long as Dot would be allowed to walk out with Gene. The foursome was dependable, he supposed, for a music concert that Bishop Albright would allow Dot to see. Even though Mother strenuously objected that it was sinful jazz, Father countered.
It’s in a respectable concert hall with violins and French horns. That is hardly one’s ordinary jazz fare.
But—
I’ve made up my mind that Marina may go, so long as Dorothy and Mr. Luke will be with them. That is all.
Thank you, Father.
You’re welcome, Marina. Do not abuse my trust.
Oh, of course not, Father!
Marina didn’t know how to abuse Father’s trust, so she didn’t have to worry about that at all. What she did know was that tomorrow, Mother would be furious, so Marina would have to go out of her way to soothe her. Perhaps if Mother could hear this wonderful music—
No. This music belonged to Marina and Trey, who was here experiencing it with her, these fun notes and thrilling runs. She didn’t know why Mother thought jazz was bad, but it did occur to her that it was doing something a little funny to her. It made her feel … well, she didn’t know how it made her feel, but it was strange.
Nice.
Cozy and a little tingly.
Why, watching the conductor, orchestra, and pianist was a treat by itself. What must it be like to be that talented? she wondered for the first time. The praise band was either not that much fun to watch or Marina was simply used to them. They were talented, but this was leagues above the capabilities of the praise band even if they wanted to do this.
She felt herself swaying during the soft, romantic sections, a smile on her face. Her smile widened during a romantic rush up to the next section. She scooted forward to sit on the edge of her seat, her hands clasped to her breast, breathless as the music went on and on, then wound down with a grand flourish.
Marina applauded wildly as soon as she knew it was all right to do so, and did so until the conductor rapped for his orchestra’s attention and went on to—
“What was that called again?” Marina whispered to Trey.
“Rhapsody in Blue.”
“And this one?”
“American in Paris.”
It made her immediately want to go to Paris, although she daren’t say that to her parents. Father refused to speak of his time in Europe and Mother disapproved of foreigners. There would be a lot of foreigners in France.
The music bounced on and it was all Marina could do to keep herself from bouncing with it.
At intermission, Marina turned to Trey, absolutely giddy, and said, “Oh, this is so lovely. Thank you so much!” It was a weak sentiment, but she had no better words. It only slightly bothered her that Trey was watching her with a strange expression.
“You’re welcome,” he said slowly, his brow wrinkling. “I didn’t … er, I didn’t think you would like it this much.”
“Oh, it must be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” Marina’s glance flickered to her best pal, who was whispering something to Gene that made him grin. Marina turned back to Trey and only then noticed he wasn’t happy. Her smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know exactly,” he said slowly, staring at the back of the chair in front of him. “It— I want— Um, well … Not sure.”
“Was it something I did?”
“No.” With that, he heaved himself to his feet and said, “I’m going to go get refreshments. Ladies? Gene?”
“Certainly,” Gene said. “Be right back, Polka Dorothy. Lemonade?”
“Sure!” Dot chirped.
“Marina?” Trey asked.
“Sweet tea, please.”
Trey choked and Gene tensed. They both stared at her, then Trey laughed nervously. “Sweet tea. Right. Iced tea. With sugar in it.”
Gene cleared his throat. “One lemonade and one sweetened iced tea, coming right up.”
“Yes,” Marina said, confused. “Sweet tea.” She exchanged glances with Dot once the men were gone. “Was that strange or was I imagining things?”
“No, that was strange,” Dot affirmed vaguely as she watched Gene and Trey trot up the aisle and disappear. “Everybody knows what sweet tea is. Well!” Dot said gaily as she swung toward Marina. “You are having a good time. I adore it when you’re so happy you forget to hide.”
Marina flushed. “I … Now I feel self-conscious.”
“Oh, don’t, Marina,” Dot pled softly, taking her hands. “It’s all right to show your happiness. Nothing bad is going to happen if you smile and laugh more—” She paused. “So long as your mother doesn’t see you do it too much.”
That deflated Marina.
“Oh, I am so sorry!” Dot wailed quietly. “I didn’t mean to— I mean—”
“She and Father argued about it,” Marina confessed. “Mother says because this is jazz, it’s bad, but Father said it’s not real jazz because there are violins and French horns.”
Dot rolled her eyes and waved a hand. “He’s right.”
“How do you know?”
“My parents listen to real jazz on their Gramophone.”
Marina blinked. “Oh. Do you like it?”
Dot shrugged. “It’s all right. I like this better. It makes more sense.”
Marina didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t matter. The men were coming back with their drinks.
“They had flips and phosphates,” Gene offered as he bestowed Dot’s lemonade upon her.
“Here go,” Trey murmured, handing Marina her glass and a program. “Sweet tea. Didn’t know if you wanted any more sugar in it.”
Marina took a sip. “No, it’s good, thank you.”
The rest of the concert was nice, and the music, Piano Concerto in F according to the program, wasn’t nearly as thrilling as Rhapsody in Blue, but more wonderful than American in Paris. The encore began with a selection of songs sung by a woman with a lovely alto. During the last, “Lady, Be Good,” Marina started when she found her hand in Trey’s, and his mouth pressed against her knuckles. He stared at her intensely in a way he hadn’t before and something in the bottom of her tummy gave her a little tickle.
She snatched her hand out of his, then realized she didn’t mean it. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Trey simply shook his head, gave her a wry smile, and escorted her home in silence.
23
If you don’t want to wait 2 years to get to the end, you can buy it here.
A frisson, or two. Oh Mother would not approve!
Mother is very sharp and knows exactly where this is going.
A more enigmatic character than I first imagined?
Mother… I’ll keep my mouth shut about that one.
Marina has been deliberately dulled by Mother, not Father.
Dot’s opinion is that Mother wants Marina to stay home forever and take care of her in her old age. (Not a spoiler; previous episode.)
Ah, but it’s not that simple, is it?
The reason is simple, but it’s not a simple scheme, taking human nature into account and all that. She can’t possibly account for every contingency, so she does the best she can with what little/no power she has. Throw add in some upstart very handsome insurance salesman who has taken an inexplicable liking to a “homely” and “stupid” girl 8 years younger than he is, and with her husband firmly NOT on her side, then things will go sideways super-quick. She knows there’s something seriously off about the whole thing, but doesn’t have enough information to suss it out, much less deal with it.
Poor Trey, caught up in a web, doesn’t want to lose the bet and now doesn’t know what to do. Marina, on the other hand, in moving (a little) towards teen age rebellion or independence but fearful of where this might go, because of her mother’s wrath.
Thanks, Mojeaux, I already have my ticket for next Friday’s episode
You’re welcome, Fourscore. I’m glad you’re enjoying it.
DST is the new pineapple.
OT
https://youtu.be/j1fNAA8mdFY
If you don’t want to watch 18 minutes of filler watch the last 5 or 6 minutes why I think duolingo has a ways to go for Japanese.
Will watch later. Weighing whether or not to go back. Their last change really soured me. But I haven’t replaced it with anything so net is losing my progress.
By the way, best performance evar: https://youtu.be/cH2PH0auTUU
Nice. I love the wah-wah jazz horns.
Crabsody In Blue is better.
Excuse me, I need to talk to the supervisor.
OK, ma’am. Please wait.
I like Gershwin.
🎶🎵
Mother
Tell your children not to walk my way
Tell your children not to hear my words
What they mean
What they say
Mother
Mother
Can you keep them in the dark for life?
Can you hide them from the waiting world?
Oh mother
🎵🎶
Hmmm. That wasn’t Gershwin.
I love that song.
🤘🏻 #metoo
🤘🏻#metooX2🤘🏻
🤘🤘
Polka Dorothy
I larfed.
Don’t any of you people First?
MIKE’S!!!!!!
Too busy working.
Alert Rufus.
Good to see you.
Great story, Mo’. Didn’t realize how many weeks behind I was. Lot’s of new twists. Good stuff. I’m more tempted than ever to just grab my Kindle and finish reading it.
As I was getting caught up, I was thinking to myself, “Why isn’t Mojeaux too famous to be giving us her work for free?”
And then I recalled that life isn’t fair. It’s often damned unfair.
😕 TBH, it’s rather heartbreaking. All I ever really wanted was to make a living writing novels.
My heart breaks for you. I’m no fancy literary critic, but I know what I like and this story is aces.
Thank you. <3
Road House is on; is there a more ridiculous “villain” than Ben Gazzara?
That’s the best they could do?
sha-boom, sha-boom
I remember Dalton’s Mercedes 560 SEC being an object of desire; it doesn’t look much better than a K-car
https://www.hotcars.com/take-a-look-back-at-the-best-cars-from-road-house/
Meh.
Looks a lot like the meh Mustang* Gazzara drove.
Yes, I know. The Fox body Mustang is supposed to be some sort of beautiful machine. I disagree.
Didn’t realize Jeff Healey died at 41.
Fuck cancer.
And Swayze died of cancer at 57.
RIPx2
The most depressing aspect of SRV’s death is that he likely bled out vs. being killed in the crash right away.
I did not know that. Fuck.
He was wonderfully villainesque in Buffalo ’66.
Weirdly, I noticed that he directed a couple episodes of Columbo.
They tried to have him be a physical threat in Road House, which is just ridiculous.
Him “fighting” Dalton is just pathetic.
Yeah, that really made no sense.
I’m guessing it was all the budget allowed.
Cribbage is complicated.
That is all.
My mind is built for games no more strenuous than solitaire, Jewel Quest, and Angry Birds.
I finally managed to beat TT on the third try, but he might have been feeling sorry for me. 😄
Three biggest games of my childhood: Monopoly, Authors, and Pit.
PITOMGPITILOVEPIT!
Srsly. It’s an excellent teaching tool, especially when your mother and her sisters actually behave like they’re on the trading floor. Also, my mother is a sore loser. It’s adorable.
A friend of ours had an honest-to-goodness vintage Pit game – the box had a cartoon of people playing the game, and it was a classic ’20s or early ’30s style illustration.
This one.
Mom has the orange one. https://www.etsy.com/listing/1102945468/
Yup. When we got our own copy, it was that edition.
Nice. I always wanted to try it but I’ve never met anyone who knew it.
I’d never played it before. TT played it all the time growing up, and we have a beautiful board with a laser-etched map of Lake of the Ozarks on it, but he’d forgotten some of the details until he had a friend over yesterday who refreshed his memory and played a couple of games with him.
Cribbage has rules and scoring that aren’t common across other card games so it seems complicated at first but there is a steep learning curve and it won’t take too many games until it is another game like euchre or hearts where 99% of the time your hand dictates your plays for you and there isn’t a ton of strategy or choices to make. That said it is my favorite of those kind of games.
I learned to play cribbage at about age 7, my folks would need someone to play or a 4th to sit in. It really helped the arithmetic skills for a 2nd -3rd grader.By the time I was 8-9 I was learning some of the nuances, specially in 2 handed. Haven’t played for 60 years but I still remember the rules. Pinochle was the game of choice in the army, could be played for money as well.
Mornin’ all. Happy Sts. Recovery and Remorse day
Mornin 😀
suh’ fam
whats goody yo
TALL CANS!
My day off and I still get up early. Morning y’all!
Tall coffee!
Actually I get the Tall Cans® for dessert after I take Tres V. 2.0 to breakfast. Its become our weekly thing.