* * *
EXTERIOR – LAFAYETTE THEATRE – NIGHT
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132nd Street & 2nd Avenue: Odessa Johnson stands outside the Lafayette surrounded by hundreds of people waiting to get in. The lit theater marquee sign above reads Macbeth. Scalpers wave tickets to the mostly Black theatergoers, men in their coats and sharp-brimmed hats, women dressed in their finery with freshly-pressed hair. Odessa cranes her neck, trying to see above the crowd, obviously looking for someone. She’s jostled by several people.
* * *
DESSI
Hey! Watch it!
* * *
She clutches her hat when it’s almost knocked off her head and she’s shoved into a girl in the crowd.
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DESSI
’Scuse me. Everybody’s trying to get in.
* * *
TILDA
It’s alright. And if they ain’t got a ticket, they can forget it. ‘Lessen they plan to pay five dollars.
* * *
DESSI
I was kinda hoping I’d get one. A friend of mine was bringing me some money she owes me so I could buy a ticket.
* * *
Dessi cranes her neck again.
* * *
DESSI
But I ain’t seen her. Not that I could find her in this crowd anyway.
* * *
TILDA
Hmmmph. I got a ticket I’ll sell you. My old man bought ’em, but he late. Bet I’d find him with that other one.
* * *
DESSI
He cheating on you?
* * *
Tilda offers a mischievous grin.
* * *
TILDA
Yeah. With his wife.
* * *
Both girls laugh.
* * *
DESSI
I’m Odessa Johnson, but you can call me Dessi.
* * *
TILDA
Matilda Hargrove. Everybody calls me Tilda.
* * *
Dessi looks around at all the people elbowing each other and trying to get into the theater.
* * *
DESSI
Harlem is on fire tonight.
* * *
TILDA
Where you been? Harlem’s on fire every night.
* * *
DESSI
This is different. I never seen the likes of this.
* * *
TILDA
What watermelon truck you fall off, girl? You sound as country as Mississippi.
* * *
DESSI
Alabama, I’ll have you know.
* * *
TILDA
You want this ticket, Bama?
* * *
DESSI
How much?
* * *
TILDA
How much ya got?
* * *
DESSI
A dollar and some change.
* * *
TILDA
Girl. Where you work?
* * *
DESSI
The Cotton Club.
* * *
TILDA
Stop lying. You ain’t yellow enough to work at the Cotton Club.
* * *
DESSI
Not onstage. I wash dishes.
* * *
TILDA
Oh. You like it?
* * *
DESSI
What you think? It’s white folks’ dishes.
* * *
The girls laugh again and Tilda looks at Dessi, assessing, head to toe.
TILDA
You dance, Bama?
* * *
DESSI
I do.
* * *
TILDA
Lindy?
* * *
DESSI
I can do ’em all.
* * *
TILDA
I might have something better than white folks’ dirty dishes. Ever been to the Savoy?
* * *
DESSI
Couple of times.
* * *
TILDA
I’m a hostess there. We looking for new girls.
* * *
DESSI
Hostess? Do hostesses keep their legs closed?
* * *
Tilda touches her chest, feigns shock.
* * *
TILDA
Lord, Bama! Well, I never.
* * *
DESSI
I’ll ask your old man if you ever.
* * *
They cackle, and both are jostled from behind, pushing them into each other again. Dessi grabs Tilda’s arm and they stare into each other’s eyes for a long second. Tilda clears her throat and takes a ticket from her stylish purse.
* * *
TILDA
I may be a cheat, but I ain’t no whore. Tell ya what, Bama. Looks like Daddy got hemmed up with his old lady. Take the ticket and we’ll talk about the job after the play. How’s that sound?
* * *
Odessa’s eyes widen and a smile breaks out on her face. She snatches the ticket.
* * *
DESSI
Perfect!
9
Canon
God, I missed LA.
Give me seventy-five degrees and sunshine in October over cold, gray New York. And you have to walk everywhere. Or take the subway. I mean, I get the appeal, but I grew up in San Diego County, in Lemon Grove, with beaches and mountains and canyons all in easy reach. Where rain is rare. I’m a Cali boy, born and bred. I didn’t dream of going anywhere else for college. Plus attending the USC film school kept me close to Mama when she needed me most.
She would have liked Neevah.
I bat away that useless thought when I enter the office of Scripps Productions. Most people assume my company name is a play on words, me ghettofying scripts, but Scripps Pier was actually one of Mama’s favorite places to watch her sunsets.