Page 17 of The Gilded Heiress

Josie

The uptown trolley moved slowly, stopping often to let passengers on and off. I couldn’t stop fidgeting. In my head I went

over what I planned to say and sing, if given the chance. A lot was riding on this visit.

“Stop,” Leo said, placing his hand atop mine. “Just breathe. We have no appointment, so we might not even see him today.”

I was certain that wouldn’t happen, not with Lotta’s introduction. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

Leo smoothly crossed one leg over the other. “Then we find someone who does. This city is crawling with opportunity—and we’ll

catch one. Don’t worry.”

“I wish I shared your confidence.”

“You could, if you tried,” he said. “The first step to having confidence is projecting it. Then one day you find the mask

fits well enough that it’s no longer a mask. Understand?”

I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t want to wear a mask.”

“It’s a metaphor, sweetheart. Pretend until it becomes real.”

“That feels wrong. And deceitful.”

“The world is based on deceit. The stock market, cosmetics, perfume. Corsets.” He gestured toward a large sign on the side

of a building hawking cigars. “Advertising. If you don’t participate in the game, how do you expect to win?”

I considered this as we rolled along. Maybe Leo was right. I’d lived my entire life in a ten-block radius in Boston. Sophisticated and worldly were not words I associated with myself. But I always hoped being me would be enough.

I shook my head. Who was I fooling? When had I ever been enough? In my whole life, no one had wanted me.

“You’re right,” I told him. “It’s all acting, anyway.”

“That’s the spirit. Think about who Josie Smith should be. What impression do you want to leave behind? Then create that persona

in your mind and act it out.”

“Is that what you do?”

“Been doing it since the day I was born, sweetheart.”

Hmm. I thought back to the smiles that never quite reached his eyes. What was he like under the suit and charm?

Who did I want to be? That was easy—I wanted to be like Lotta, as if I belonged in every room, no matter where I went. Independent

and smart. Talented. A strong woman who bent the world to her whim, not the other way around.

Could I do it?

Getting off in Herald Square, Leo and I walked toward the address on Melvin’s card. Thank goodness he knew where he was going,

because I was too nervous to navigate.

“That building there.” Leo pointed to a five-story limestone building. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Just as he’d done before I met Lotta, Leo put his hands on my shoulders and looked down at me. “Repeat after me. I’m going

to be one of the greats.”

The edges of my mouth curled. “I’m going to be one of the greats.”

“Good girl. Let’s go show this Melvin fellow what he’s been missing out on.”

We went inside. A marble lobby greeted us, and we discovered that Melvin’s office was on the fifth floor. “Lift or stairs?”

Leo asked.

“Stairs. I’m too nervous for the lift.”

“The stairs it is.”

I kept my chin up and tried to look confident as I trailed Leo, who definitely looked confident. He appeared at home, like

he belonged in this fancy building and this fancy town. People trailed down the stairs, nodding at him as they passed like

he was someone important. I wondered if any of them were singers too.

We stopped in front of a door with block lettering on it.

MR. MELVIN BIRDMAN, THEATRICAL PRODUCTIONS

Leo reached for the knob, paused, and glanced over his shoulder. He gave me a slow wink. I tried to offer up a smile, but

my face felt strange, as if my muscles didn’t work right.

This had to go well. My whole future was riding on this meeting.

Then we were inside. A secretary sat behind a desk, her fingers flying over the keys of a typewriter. Four other people were

waiting in the anteroom. I tugged on Leo’s sleeve. “Maybe we should come back later, when Mr. Birdman isn’t so busy.”

Leo didn’t even break stride. He strode right up to the secretary. “Good morning. Miss Josie Smith and Mr. Leo Hardy. We’d

like to see Mr. Birdman.”

The secretary didn’t even glance up. “Mr. Birdman’s appointments are all full today.”

Undeterred, Leo gave her a grin that would melt cold butter. “Well, how about tomorrow?”

“He is booked through the end of the month.”

Oh, heavens. I could feel the disappointment settling in my stomach. This was a waste of time. We couldn’t wait a month. I

started to leave, but Leo touched my arm, staying me.

“I realize Mr. Birdman is incredibly busy, Miss...?”

“Bryce.”

“Miss Bryce. I understand he is busy, but a mutual friend of ours sent us to New York to see Mr. Birdman.” Leo presented the card from Lotta to the secretary. “You’ll see a note there on the back.”

She read the note and her eyes went wide. Pointing to the chairs, she stood. “Please, have a seat.”

In a flash Miss Bryce disappeared through the door behind her. Leo gestured to the open chairs. “Let’s sit down. Maybe he’ll

work us in when he has the time.”

We picked two chairs and sat down. No sooner had my bustle hit the padding than we heard a booming voice say, “From Lotta!”

The door flew open. A short man with thinning hair and a long mustache barreled into the anteroom. He wore a sharp brown suit,

a fancy pocket watch chain dangling off his silk vest. “Which one of you knows Lotta?”

Leo stood, at the same time tugging on my elbow to help me up. “We do.”

“Well, good gracious. Get in here already. What are you waiting for?”

“Excuse me, Mr. Birdman!” This was one of the gentlemen waiting in the anteroom. “I’ve been here an hour already.”

“And you’ll wait an hour more, Sid. Get comfortable.” Mr. Birdman ushered us directly into his office. After he closed the

door, he held out his hand. “Melvin Birdman.”

We shook and introduced ourselves. At least, I’m fairly certain I did. Words definitely came out of my mouth and Leo appeared

pleased, so I must’ve done something right.

Mr. Birdman pointed at the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit, sit. Tell me, how is my girl?”

“Very well, sir.” This was Leo, who spoke calmly, as if having tea with a friend. “She left Boston for San Francisco a few

days back.”

“Always too busy for me.” Mr. Birdman sighed, eyes dancing while a smile tugged at his lips. “I wish I could convince her to come back to Broadway. Few were able to pack in a crowd like Lotta Crabtree back in the day.”

“I bet. I remember her shows in Boston were always standing room only.”

“Now you’re just rubbing my nose in it,” Mr. Birdman said with a chuckle. “So, tell me why you are here.”

“Lotta was gracious enough to work with Miss Smith before she left town. She sent us to New York to come see you.”

“Is that so?” Mr. Birdman’s gaze turned to me. “Lotta isn’t known for taking baby chicks under her wing. You must be something

special.”

It was my turn to speak, but I wasn’t sure my mouth worked. Pretend. Wear the mask. I forced my shoulders back. “I am.”

“Confident,” Mr. Birdman said. “I like it. Tell me, what do you do. Dance?”

“I sing.”

The older man swept his hand out. “Then sing.”

I didn’t hesitate. I stared at a spot on the wall, pretended it was an audience, and sang like Lotta had instructed. I let

the notes and words flow, expressing the emotion of the melody as I always did, but also allowing that emotion to show through

my expressions. Lotta said you had to live the song, feel it deep in your bones. Then the audience would feel it, too.

No one interrupted. I finished the entire piece, the room reverberating with the final note. I knew I’d done well. Hadn’t

missed a note or garbled a lyric. As far as a cappella performances went, it was damn good.

So the ensuing silence surprised me.

I risked a glance at Mr. Birdman, but his expression was guarded. Instead of speaking, he stood and began walking to the door—and

my stomach dropped into the floor. Failure tasted like spoiled milk in my throat.

He’d hated it.

I started to stand, ready to run and hide, but Leo put a hand on my arm. “Wait,” he said under his breath.

Mr. Birdman ripped open his office door. I peeked out into the anteroom, where Miss Bryce and the visitors were staring at

Melvin’s office, mouths agape. No one moved a muscle, their eyes wide with disbelief.

When Mr. Birdman slowly turned toward me, he was grinning. “It’s not often I see Miss Bryce rendered speechless.” He closed

the door and returned to his desk.

Leo still held on to my arm. Instead of letting go, his thumb began absently stroking my wrist, a slow sweep back and forth,

just as he’d done yesterday in the apartment. Once again, the soft brush of that single digit was all I could focus on. His

simple caress both soothed and excited me, my skin turning hot.

Was this going to be a regular habit with him? If so, I wasn’t complaining.

His hand fell away as soon as Mr. Birdman settled into his chair, facing us. I missed the warmth of Leo’s touch so much that

it should have embarrassed me.

I cleared my throat and tried to appear professional. “What did you think, Mr. Birdman?”

“I think you should call me Melvin. We are going to be spending a lot of time together.”

What did that mean? I wished he would come out and say what he thought instead of dancing around it. My shoulders tightened,

my muscles instantly wary. “Doing what, exactly?”

Leo’s voice was smooth as he interjected, “I think Miss Smith is asking what you have in mind for her career options.”

Melvin held up his palms. “Understandable. I see why Lotta sent you. You have real talent, Miss Smith—a too-good-for-the-chorus sort of talent. Any girl with a pretty face is able to harmonize in the background. You are bigger than that. You have...

gravitas.” He paused. “It means—”

“I know what it means,” I said. “I learned Latin with the nuns. So, a supporting part in a musical?”

“Think bigger.”

“A lead part?”

“Yes, eventually. But first we need to make a name for you. Build up a little mystery and mystique.”

“How?” This question was from Leo.