Scene 63
Scene Sixty-three...The Singer
Time: Night, Saturday, August 10, 1946
Place: "The Coral Breeze" nightclub
Storyteller: Victoria
(This is Connie Jane speaking. Please treat yourself to Ava Gardner's rendition of the classic song, "Bill". It will put you in the mood to meet the one and only Victoria.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCsYSS6ddT4
Storyteller: Victoria
"Think I'm gonna like The Breeze." I say to Steve. "How long you been tending bar?"
"My entire life, but only been here a couple of years. How long you been singing?"
"My entire life...and I better do that right now or Jake will fire me." I smile, turn, and flirt my way up to the stage.
People are clapping. I adjust the microphone. "Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen. Thank you. How about a Dinah Shore favorite?"
Clapping gets louder; some whistles.
"How many of you know a special man named Bill?"
Hands go up; more clapping.
"I did. This song is dedicated to him."
They cheer, then quiet down to listen...
"He's just my Bill, an ordinary guy,
he hasn't got a thing that I can brag about."
I sing and play the crowd. The bartender is wiping a glass and looking my way. Who is that handsome young man with Steve? All American boy; must go to U.M.
A couple in the front row are holding hands. It looks like a tear on her cheek.
I'm on the final verse...
"I love him because he's...I don't know..."
I pause and linger on the last line...
"Because he's just my Bill."
Applause, applause, whistles.
I take a bow. I deserve a break. My purple skirt rustles past tables as I wind my way to the bar. "Gin and tonic, please."
"Excuse me, Miss. Beautiful song. I'm Paul Robertson."
"Thank you. Victoria Marconi."
He pays for my drink and escorts me to the booth in the corner.
We get acquainted. I walk to the stage every half hour to "Sing for my supper."
The conversation grows personal. Childhood memories pour out. His mom witnessed a murder which scared the wits out of her. She was afraid to leave the house. Couldn't go to his football games.
"Did you play quarterback?" That's the only position I can remember.
"No, but Dad did at Penn."
"You mean Philly?" My ears perk up.
"Yep."
Now we're getting somewhere. That's an Ivy League college. People from "old money" go there. My mind sees dollar signs.
"I'm from Atlantic City. Took the train to Philly to shop. You from up there?"
"No, the family moved to Coconut Grove after Dad finished law school. I was born in Miami."
Oh, this is getting better all the time. His dad's a lawyer. Money! Hope Paul doesn't notice I'm older than him.
"Sorry if I stare. Your red hair and green eyes are such a striking combination...very pretty," he says.
If he thinks I'm older, he doesn't seem to mind.
"Thank you so much." I cross my legs in such a way that my skirt slips just a little above the knees.
"Is that a scar on your knee? It's small, but an unusual color. Bluish green."
"Yes. I almost drowned. The waves were pushing me into those sharp, black rocks over and over. Finally the lifeguard carried me to shore; blood was dripping down my leg."
"You're lucky to be alive and walking!"
"Yes, indeed." I rise and sashay to the stage, proving his point with my signature "swing."
The set begins with Dinah's hit "The Gypsy." It's almost closing time, but the audience is still awake and cheering.
Back at the cozy booth, our shoulders are touching. Last call. He orders my gin and tonic, and a "bud" for himself.
"Paul, I understand what your mom went through in that dangerous crowd. Do you want to hear what happened to me?"
"Of course. I've been talking too much. Tell your story." He pats my hand.
"It was V.E. Day. I can still see us celebrating in Chicago on State Street. There are thousands of people dancing, hollering, blowing horns, kissing...He and I are kissing. Suddenly my husband drops to the ground."
Paul squeezes my hand so tight, it hurts.
"He had been stabbed to death."
Paul's jaw drops.
"I fought my way through the thick crowd...was afraid to go back to our apartment...caught a cab to the airport. I hid in New York...took dance lessons...thought they would help with a singing career."
Time: Night, Saturday, August 10, 1946
Place: "The Coral Breeze" nightclub
Storyteller: Victoria
(This is Connie Jane speaking. Please treat yourself to Ava Gardner's rendition of the classic song, "Bill". It will put you in the mood to meet the one and only Victoria.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JCsYSS6ddT4
Storyteller: Victoria
"Think I'm gonna like The Breeze." I say to Steve. "How long you been tending bar?"
"My entire life, but only been here a couple of years. How long you been singing?"
"My entire life...and I better do that right now or Jake will fire me." I smile, turn, and flirt my way up to the stage.
People are clapping. I adjust the microphone. "Thank you very much ladies and gentlemen. Thank you. How about a Dinah Shore favorite?"
Clapping gets louder; some whistles.
"How many of you know a special man named Bill?"
Hands go up; more clapping.
"I did. This song is dedicated to him."
They cheer, then quiet down to listen...
"He's just my Bill, an ordinary guy,
he hasn't got a thing that I can brag about."
I sing and play the crowd. The bartender is wiping a glass and looking my way. Who is that handsome young man with Steve? All American boy; must go to U.M.
A couple in the front row are holding hands. It looks like a tear on her cheek.
I'm on the final verse...
"I love him because he's...I don't know..."
I pause and linger on the last line...
"Because he's just my Bill."
Applause, applause, whistles.
I take a bow. I deserve a break. My purple skirt rustles past tables as I wind my way to the bar. "Gin and tonic, please."
"Excuse me, Miss. Beautiful song. I'm Paul Robertson."
"Thank you. Victoria Marconi."
He pays for my drink and escorts me to the booth in the corner.
We get acquainted. I walk to the stage every half hour to "Sing for my supper."
The conversation grows personal. Childhood memories pour out. His mom witnessed a murder which scared the wits out of her. She was afraid to leave the house. Couldn't go to his football games.
"Did you play quarterback?" That's the only position I can remember.
"No, but Dad did at Penn."
"You mean Philly?" My ears perk up.
"Yep."
Now we're getting somewhere. That's an Ivy League college. People from "old money" go there. My mind sees dollar signs.
"I'm from Atlantic City. Took the train to Philly to shop. You from up there?"
"No, the family moved to Coconut Grove after Dad finished law school. I was born in Miami."
Oh, this is getting better all the time. His dad's a lawyer. Money! Hope Paul doesn't notice I'm older than him.
"Sorry if I stare. Your red hair and green eyes are such a striking combination...very pretty," he says.
If he thinks I'm older, he doesn't seem to mind.
"Thank you so much." I cross my legs in such a way that my skirt slips just a little above the knees.
"Is that a scar on your knee? It's small, but an unusual color. Bluish green."
"Yes. I almost drowned. The waves were pushing me into those sharp, black rocks over and over. Finally the lifeguard carried me to shore; blood was dripping down my leg."
"You're lucky to be alive and walking!"
"Yes, indeed." I rise and sashay to the stage, proving his point with my signature "swing."
The set begins with Dinah's hit "The Gypsy." It's almost closing time, but the audience is still awake and cheering.
Back at the cozy booth, our shoulders are touching. Last call. He orders my gin and tonic, and a "bud" for himself.
"Paul, I understand what your mom went through in that dangerous crowd. Do you want to hear what happened to me?"
"Of course. I've been talking too much. Tell your story." He pats my hand.
"It was V.E. Day. I can still see us celebrating in Chicago on State Street. There are thousands of people dancing, hollering, blowing horns, kissing...He and I are kissing. Suddenly my husband drops to the ground."
Paul squeezes my hand so tight, it hurts.
"He had been stabbed to death."
Paul's jaw drops.
"I fought my way through the thick crowd...was afraid to go back to our apartment...caught a cab to the airport. I hid in New York...took dance lessons...thought they would help with a singing career."