“Little Darlin’,” another one of my favorites, played next and naturally we continued singing. Bobby’s sang David Sommerville’s lead with a comical passion and though I tried not to be charmed by his silliness, I found myself singing the falsetto parts with equal frivolity. It’s hard to hold a grudge when you are singing shamelessly with the wind blowing against your cheeks.
“Impressive,” Bobby tilted his chin towards me as the jockey spoke over the last few bars of the song.
The next song, “Dark Moon,” wasn’t fun or up-tempo. The mood in the truck shifted instantly as we both stayed silent. Bonnie Guitar’s melancholy vocals and simple guitar melody flooded the vehicle. It was a song about love. About how we dream of its splendor, but instead, we are left helpless, realizing love often brings pain rather than joy. How when it comes to love, expectations so often fail to meet reality.
I couldn’t tell if Bobby felt like the words to the song spoke to him too, or if my sudden shift in behavior alone made the truck seem tight and uncomfortable.
“I’ll find something a little less sappy,” I declared, reaching for the dial.
Bobby observed me from the corner of his eye.
“I don’t mind it,” he suggested as if he understood the lyrics poked at something tender.
“It’s not good driving music,” I insisted, reaching for the dial. I was relieved to find another station in the middle of a Coasters song that was far more innocuous.
The ride went by quickly, and our surroundings changed from dark roads and freeways to tight streets and lights. Cars honking. Laughter. Sharply dressed couples on their way to whatever the city was offering on that night.
Finally we seemed to arrive to our destination as Bobby circled the blocks of South Side Chicago looking for a spot. When we parked, Bobby helped me out of the passenger side. There had been a light rain and steam swirled up from the asphalt, scorched from earlier in the day.
“Thank you,” I said as Bobby guided me over a puddle. Bobby looked fresh, his hair slicked back, a button-down chambray shirt tucked into a dark pair of jeans over black boots. He looked right out of the movies, like James Dean or Marlon Brando. I tried my best to keep up with a red and white polka dot sundress and the most comfortable heels I could find in my closet.
“Lil, I'm really trying to be a good boy here, but wow. You look incredible,” he said.
“Thanks.” I nodded coyly. “So do you.” It had been so long since I had gone out like this, and I couldn't fight the pleasant mood this adventure had put me in.
“Alright, come on,” Bobby said, taking my hand. We walked maybe a block or so before coming to a marquee. At the top, it read Smokie's, and underneath the interchangeable letters read Hancock, Sun Ra, Jamal, Armstrong.
I tugged on Bobby's grip so he would stop. “Is this a jazz club?” I asked.
He winked. “Ever been?”
“No,” I shrugged. “Well, not since college, and not in Chicago.”
“You're gonna have a blast.”
We came up to the ticket counter and he seemed to know the person who let us in without paying. Inside, the room was full of people smoking, drinking, and dancing as a small band played a set. And what I noticed instantly was most of the people in the club were black. Now, it was all the same to me, but where I grew up, there weren't many black people. My exposure was almost nil. And suddenly, I was thrust into a world where I was the outsider. I knew this was intentional on Bobby's part. He wanted to get me on my toes. And he was right, because this new experience excited me.
Bobby waved at the stage as if he knew someone, but no one waved back, seeing as their hands were occupied with their instruments.
“Drink?” he offered.
“Water's fine,” I replied, wanting to keep my mind sharp.
As Bobby headed for the bar, the band stopped and announced they would take a break before the next band started. A slight man, with skin the color of a cacao bean, hopped off the stage and made a beeline towards Bobby.
“My brother!” he exclaimed, giving Bobby a big hug. I had never seen that in person, a black man and a white man embrace like brothers. “So good to see you!” he said, stepping back to take in Bobby with pure joy. His gaze drifted to me. “And who is this lovely lady? Someone finally get Bobby to settle down?”
For a second Bobby's eyes looked uncertain. We were so many things. And yet, he would have to go for the most superficial of identities—his sister-in-law. Maybe it was all the beer earlier, or the heat, or the sense of adventure, but I thought maybe we could play make believe just in the walls of this club.
“Yes, I did,” I said, gripping Bobby's forearm to play along. “This naughty boy is all mine.”
At first I thought Bobby wouldn't play along, as his eyes widened, but then he smiled and wrapped an arm around my shoulder. “Yup. She's a handful though.”
“Willis,” the jovial man said as he extended his hand for a shake. “Call me Will, though.”
“Lilly,” I replied.
Willis' brow shrugged as if maybe he knew the name, but couldn't place all the pieces together. And for a moment I thought I had put us in a trap. Because if Bobby told Willis about his sister-in-law, and I was also his girl, well there'd be some explaining to do. However, Willis seemed to move on, wanting to introduce me to his girlfriend, Sasha.
Sasha was tall and lithe, with hair the texture of raw cotton twisted up into a flawless updo. She was regal, her long neck just like sculpted Egyptian busts I had studied in college.
Sasha brought us to her table and we all sat.
“So do you know Bobby from the service?” I asked.
Willis looked over at Bobby, and his posture changed, like I had triggered something. “Actually, no. Well, sort of. My brother served with Bobby and they were real good friends, but he passed in the war,” he said solemnly.
Bobby chimed in. “Curtis wanted me to meet his brother. He kept telling me how we would all get together once we got back home. So when I did, I found Will.”
“I'm sorry for your loss,” I said to Willis.
“Thanks,” he smiled. “He was a great person . . . that's how I knew Bobby was, too. Curtis was always mentioning him in letters.”
I looked at Bobby and smiled. I knew exactly what Curtis saw in him.
As we chatted, the new band began to play. Horns blazed signaling the start of an up-tempo piece and Willis extended his hand. “Come on, let's dance,” he offered as other couples fled to the dance floor.
“I, uh, wow, it's been a while,” I said. “I think I might need a drink after all.”
“Here,” Bobby said, passing me his glass. I took a sip and whatever it was it was pure and strong. I recoiled from the burn and he laughed.
“Ass,” I hissed, before taking another gulp.
He winked flirtatiously, and the burn down my throat was accompanied by a tingle down my arms.
“You'll need to show me some moves. I'm rusty.” I stood up and looped my arm through Willis'.
“If you're taking my girl, I'm taking yours,” Bobby declared, taking Sasha by the hand.
We hit the dance floor. The loud horns and fast-paced music, along with Willis' lead actually made dancing quite easy. I glanced over at Bobby as he swung Sasha around, picking her up and spinning her.
“Wow, Bobby!” I shouted over the commotion. “I didn't know you could dance like that!”
“I've learned a lot of things over the years!” he shouted back before putting his attention back to Sasha.
Will leaned in as we did a two-step for some respite. “I'm sorry, I didn't put two and two together when you first came in.”
“Excuse me?”
“I didn't realize you were the Lilly.”
“The Lilly?”
“Well, when Curtis used to write me, and he mentioned Bobby, he would mention that Bobby had a girl named Lilly he wanted to get back to. And I had forgotten all about it until he introduced you, since it had been a while since Bobby came back and I hadn't met you yet. I thought maybe it didn’t pan out.”