The adventures of Blowsy, the teenage chorus girl, continued.

Chapter 1 is unforgivably long.

Let’s move on.

The show is over, and Jeremy and Blowsy walk home together.

This appears to be a novel with ZERO conflict, except for the fact that poor Dolly has a “terrible inferiority complex”, but I don’t seem interested in developing that out into a storyline. Everything is great, everything is successful, there are no clouds on the horizon. Happy days are here again.

I think I just wanted to imagine myself into the world of 1920s vaudeville.

However, I can’t help but notice in the excerpt below that Jeremy chooses a RAINBOW ice. So perhaps that is a subliminal message of a conflict to come??

I also like my blunt truncated history lesson involving the social, cultural, and financial changes that happened in America in the 1920s. Hahahaha. I wasn’t messing around.

Chapter 2 The Walk Home

Jeremy grabbed her hand. “Hey, look! An ice cream stand!” He pointed at the brightly colored stand with a swirled umbrella and tinkly music.

“Do you have any money?” Blowsy asked.

Jeremy nodded. “Sure. 10¢.”

Blowsy’s eyes widened. “10¢? Where did you get it? Payday isn’t for another week!”

“My mother gave it to me. She knew I was walking you home,” Jeremy said.

Blowsy smiled. “Sure! Let’s have some!” Together, they approached the truck and waited in the short line of two people. In the meantime, Blowsy was inspecting the pictures of the selections of ice creams. She decided on a cherry Italian ice because it was only 3¢ and it looked so good. When it was their turn, the Italian man in a white apron and cap, gave them a big hearty smile. “What’ll it be?”

Jeremy looked expectantly down at Blowsy. Blowsy said, “I’ll have a cherry Italian ice, please.”

“One cherry Italian ice,” the man murmured as he wrote this down on his pad.

“And I’ll have a rainbow ice,” Jeremy added.

As the man disappeared below the counter Blowsy and Jeremy smiled at each other. Blowsy tapped her foot on the sidewalk. When the man came up, holding a white paper bag, he was staring quizzically at them.

“Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” he asked. “No! Wait! Don’t tell me!” He leaned forward and peered closely at them, making them feel rather uncomfortable. Jeremy reached for the ice cream bag but then the ice cream man slapped his hand on his forehead and exclaimed, “I got it! You’re in that Passing Show of 1920 thing! I saw your faces up in lights! Wow! What’s it like to be real actors and actresses?”

Jeremy and Blowsy grinned at each other and shrugged. “It’s a lot of hard work,” Jeremy said.

The ice cream man scornfully brushed that away. “Nah. You make it look easy.”

“But it is a lot of work, sir. In fact, the glamour’s only on top. Most of it is boring rehearsals,” Blowsy insisted.

The ice cream man shrugged and handed over their ices. “Have it your own way. I sure wouldn’t mind bein’ in the business. It looks a lot of fun to me.”

Blowsy and Jeremy smiled at him and turned to leave but, again, the ice cream man stopped them.

“Say – uh – could I have your autographs?”

Jeremy grinned at Blowsy, feeling awkward. “Well – uh – ”

The ice cream man whipped out a pen and pad of paper and handed it to them. Jeremy shrugged, chuckled and scrawled his name across the paper. Then Blowsy took the pen and signed.

[Note from Sheila: I then recreated what both of their autographs looked like. I created completely individual handwritings for both of them.]

The ice cream man took the pad and looked it over. “Blowsy and Jeremy!” he stated and smiled at them. “You two a couple?”

Blowsy blushed. Jeremy stammered out, “Uh – well. Yes, sir. See ya. Thanks for the ice cream.” He grabbed Blowsy’s hand and literally dragged her away.

When they were out of sight of the ice cream stand, Jeremy breathed, “Phew. He was gonna give us the third degree.”

Blowsy smiled. “Yeah. He was gettin’ pretty personal there.” She then changed the subject and reached for the crumpled white bag in Jeremy’s tan hand with stubby fingernails. “Come on. Let me have my Italian ice.”

Jeremy stood under a bright blue and red canopy to escape the hurrying crowd, opened the bag, handed Blowsy her small ice cream cup and took out his colorful rainbow ice and threw the bag away in a green trash can. As they continued home, Blowsy curled off the cover to reveal a creamy, thick red ice cream with a wooden spoon sunk in it. She scooped out a generous spoonful and began to lick it all off.

“Mmm. This is really good, Jer. Thanks for buying it for me,” Blowsy said, her mouth full of the delectable ice.

Jeremy sucked his multicolor cone. “Well, you knew I wouldn’t mind. I’d buy you anything. Well, that I can afford.”

Blowsy giggled, scooped the last of her ice out of the cup, put it in her mouth and threw the cup in a trash can. Then, she occupied her time by staring around her at the magnificent city. No matter how long she lived there, it still put shivers up and down her spine and an adventurous sparkle in her eye. And from 1918 to 1920 the city had changed dramatically. In 1918 the factories were always running and hardly anyone had time to go out. Before that, women had always been told, “You must be quiet. Women don’t know about these things.” Now, women were waking up, making their mark. No more long dresses of somber colors, no more concealing white blouses, no more having to be quiet and always stay home … Blowsy was so glad that she could grow up and do the things she wanted to do, like seeing Jeremy continuously and not have anyone look down on her.

The rest of the walk home was uneventful, just spent quietly eating ice cream, talking about the show and looking around them at the city. Every now and then Blowsy would cry out about a dress in a window or Jeremy would whistle softly as a sleek car drove by.

After Jeremy threw away his paper cone, he took Blowsy’s hand and pulled her close to him. “I am so crazy about you sometimes I can’t stand to look at you,” he said softly.

Blowsy flushed in pleasure and glanced at her feet. “Jeremy – I – ” she stammered and then let out her pent-up breath. “Thank you. I think you’re pretty terrific too.” She then looked up at him with melodramatic huge eyes, outlined by thick mascara. Obviously overacting on purpose, she said in a hushed tone, “And you know what? I am strangely suspicious that I am in love with you. I can’t think why.” She dashed, giggling, out of his reach as he moved to grab her. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” she cried.

They were now on their street, which was in great contrast to the lights of Broadway. It was lit by one lamppost and the cobblestone street was dank and murky. The buildings lining the street were plain and dirty and big families were crowded into one room. But the kids in the vaudeville show didn’t mind it. Rotten shelter was a part of vaudeville and it was rather a joke among the kids. Despite its shabbiness, Blowsy liked the boarding house. The inside lobby was covered with colorful posters of their show and there was a big picture of her and Jeremy dancing. Also, the room that she and six other girls shared was crowded but cozy. Mitzie always managed to say something mean each night, but other than that, they had a good time, chattering and giggling. There were only two double beds and they had squeezed in a small iron cot. The seven girls laughed so hard the first few nights that they had slept there. Three girls had to squeeze into one double bed and the small bed sagged with their weight. Mitzie insisted on the cot but now I’m not sure she was glad about her decision because every morning she woke up stiff and sore, complaining of not enough sleep. Blowsy thought it was fun to be crowded.

There was a long dingy hall devoted to the children performers. There were four rooms for the 25 young girls and three rooms for the 18 boys. Half the night, the girls would be dashing from room to room and sharing a joke with the girls in that particular room. Girls and boys were not allowed in each other’s rooms after 8:00, so they socialized and mixed with each other in the hall. In fact, Blowsy could say that she was very happy there. It was as if they were one big happy family. And Blowsy liked that.

Blowsy and Jeremy trotted up the scratchy cement steps, heaved open the heavy wooden door and entered the lobby. As always, they blew big kisses to their colorful picture on the wall.

“Oh!” Blowsy sighed, stretching her arms high up in the air. “Tonight has been a really good night!”

“Yeah!” Jeremy agreed and then took her by surprise by picking her up and whirling her around crying, “A rose! A rose!” When he finally set the laughing dizzy Blowsy down, everything in Blowsy’s eyes was swaying and tipping and she felt sick to her stomach. She clutched Jerremy so she wouldn’t topple over.

Just then, the front door opened and in burst Cherrie and her two sisters Rockie and Robbi. The three girls were extremely close. Rockie was 18 and considered an adult in the theatre so she wasn’t in any of Cherrie’s numbers. Robbi was 15, a year older than Cherrie, and was a beautiful beautiful girl with a lovely but strong voice. The three girls were known as “The Garner Sisters” and they sang in three-party harmony that was truly beautiful.

The Garner sisters’ giggles stopped abruptly when they saw Blowsy in Jeremy’s arms. Cherrie stuttered, “Um – excuse me – Uh – didn’t mean to interrupt.” She gestured behind her back and she and Robbi and Rockie scuttled up the stairs, their footsteps echoing strangely.

“How embarrassing,” Blowsy murmured.

“Yeah, well, we’d better get upstairs. It’s pretty late.” Jeremy said.

When they arrived on the second floor, the hall was empty but there were muffled sounds of laughing and talking behind the doors. Blowsy and Jeremy turned to each other.

“Well, good night!” Blowsy said cheerfully.

“Yeah.” Jeremy slowly and gently put his arms around her. Blowsy fit her head down on his shoulder feeling, as always, extremely comfortable. Then Jeremy put his hand under her chin and raised her head to face his. He then slowly lowered his head and gently placed his lips over hers. Blowsy’s arms went around his neck. Oh, how soft and warm Jeremy’s lips were. Jeremy had kissed her many times before, but Blowsy always felt those electric tingles up and down her spine. When they parted, Jeremy held her close in a warm embrace. He kissed her on the cheek and said, “You better go in now.”

“Yeah,” Blowsy replied. “See ya later!” They both turned and headed for their rooms, flipped each other a little wave, and went in.