Lovely War(40)

Aubrey hesitated, then gave in. “You’ve gotta keep it secret.” He spoke into Joey’s ear. “I met someone.”

“Here?” Joey’s eyes grew wide. “She pretty?”

Aubrey’s eyes rolled heavenward. “Oh man. You don’t even know.”

Joey’s eyebrows rose. “Did you . . . ?”

Aubrey shoved him in the shoulder. “Shut it, Rice,” he said. “It’s not like that.”

“Well, don’t get sore at me. I’m only asking.” He rubbed his shoulder. “So, is she at the Y hut in Camp Lusitania? They’ve got some lookers. Strictly business, most of ’em.”

Aubrey remembered Colette’s perfume. “Nah,” he said. “The girl I met is Belgian.”

Joey’s mouth hung open.

“You look like a codfish,” Aubrey told him. “Relax. That officer’s watching us funny.”

Joey shut his mouth. After a minute, he whispered once more to Aubrey.

“So you found yourself a Belgian hooker,” he said. “Did you go into town alone?”

Aubrey dug two knuckles between a pair of Joey’s ribs.

“Ow!”

“Say that again,” Aubrey hissed, “and I’ll knock you over. I told you it wasn’t like that.”

Joey elbowed Aubrey away. “Cut it out,” he said. “I’m the reason you’re not in the clink this morning. So I’d cool it if I were you.”

Aubrey considered. He might need an ally again. He was definitely going back.

“Well,” Joey said, “what’s she like? Besides pretty.”

Aubrey sighed. “You should hear her sing,” he said. “In the States, she could be a star.”

“What, they don’t have stars here in Europe?”

Another soldier vacated the latrine.

“Speaking of Europe,” he said, “What did Lieutenant Europe want with me last night?”

Rice pretended to play his cornet. “Something about band practice tonight.”

Aubrey clapped his hand on his forehead. “Tonight? Shoot!”

“What’s the matter?”

Aubrey shook his head. “I was gonna go see her tonight.”

“Look,” Joey said. “Captain Fish doesn’t want us getting tangled up with girls, period.” He lowered his voice. “And if you mess with a white girl, there’ll be trouble.”

Aubrey was in no mood for a lecture. He began to wish he hadn’t opened his mouth. “Forget it,” he told Joey. “I only just met her, all right? I didn’t propose.”

Joey ignored him and went full throttle. “It was hard enough getting here. Don’t screw it up. Our job is to work hard, play great music, and smile big no matter what. You get tangled up with some nice white gal, not a hooker, I mean, and you’ll get yourself killed.” He lowered his voice. “I heard guys talking. About a regiment of marines. Lotta Southerners’ve been making threats.”

Aubrey shook it off. “Relax, Rice,” he said. “You worry like my mom.” He clapped Joey on the shoulder. “You’ll see. I’ll be fine. Nothing bad’s gonna happen to Aubrey Edwards, King of Ragtime and Emperor of Jazz.”

“Except I’m gonna knock that big head of yours off those skinny shoulders.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“You’re the King of Stupid, is what you are.”

“Then you’re my loyal subject. Who’re you calling skinny?”

Finally they were next for the latrine. A soldier exited it, pinching his nose.

“Lemme in,” Joey said. “I’m gonna explode.”

“No way.” Aubrey darted ahead and beat him to it. “You said I had the runs. Wouldn’t be right to make you a liar.”





APOLLO


     At Band Practice—January 13, 1918





I FOLLOWED AUBREY to band practice that night to remind him of his goals. Here, I thought, Aphrodite wouldn’t have her claws in him. No offense, Goddess.

“I said, listen up! You clarinets, shut your mouths and listen up!”

Lieutenant Europe’s spectacled eyes glared at the 15th Army Band.

Aubrey thought a crash of the cymbals would quiet everyone down, so he produced one. Drum Major Noble Sissle, the band’s baritone vocalist, flicked the back of Aubrey’s head.

“Ow!”

Half a minute of Europe’s evil eye finally shamed the rest of the band into silence.

“All right, all right!” said Europe. “We’ve got a lot of work tonight. Two more performances this week. One at Hut Two, and one at the Camp Lusitania Y. We’re a huge hit, fellas, with all the troops. Officers, too! You’ve done great.”

Europe allowed himself a smile as the band whooped and cheered.

Aubrey rubbed the back of his head. Next time, he’d wear his helmet to rehearsal.

“Not only that,” the band director went on, “but there’s talk of us being sent on the road, all around France. A goodwill tour to boost morale until the American army’s here in force.”

Aubrey should’ve been excited. This was just the break I needed for him. More exposure! He once dreamed of playing around France. Now he had nothing but a pretty face on his mind.