A Change Would Do You Good: Manhattan Girls

By J.D. Fitzgerald

A NEW DAWN AND A NEW DAY BESETS THE CONCRETE STONES OF HAMILTON ACADEMY

 

It is the eve of September and a new student has arrived at Hamilton. Anita Deveraux, an aspiring singer-songwriter from Louisiana, has set foot in New York City. Trying to find her place in the world, she joins in with Gwen Stevenson and

• Language: English
• Publisher: Orchid
• Release date: Sep 24, 2021
• ISBN: 9781087912677

J.D. Fitzgerald

ABOUT THE AUTHOR  J.D. Fitzgerald was born and raised in North Carolina. He has been writing short stories, novellas, and screenplays since the age of fifteen. He hosts a blog, https://thesto-riesofjdandivy.blogspot.com/, where he writes movie and tv reviews. His other hobbies in-clude interpretive dancing, researching astrology, and studying film and television history. Manhattan girls is his first novel in a series of books. He is currently working on the second novel which will come out later next year.

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Manhattan Girls:

A Change Would Do You Good

By

J.D. Fitzgerald

Copyright © 2020 by J.D. Fitzgerald

All rights reserved.

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Printed in the United States of America

Orchid Publishing, 2020

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, or transmitted in any form, digital or printed, without the permission of the author.

thestoriesofjdandivy.blogspot.com

What earthly good am I without you?

I tell you I mean it

I’m all for you, body and soul

–Billie Holiday

Ode to Bayou

After the summer rain,

The sweet smell of a sunny day,

Hearing the Mardi Gras playing a mile away

And that’s my ode to the bayou

Walking the dirty street

Feeling the soil under my feet

The sound of the jazz band still plays on my mind

And that’s my ode to the bayou

Embellishing the nature’s root

Tasting the fresh, ripe fruit

The warm embrace of the cool New Orleans breeze

And that’s my ode to the bayou

As the sun and moon will rise

My memories will fly by

I will always have the hope

That my hometown remains just the same

As I touch the Mississippi River

Glowing in the purple-blue skies

I remember the summer days rolling by

And that’s my ode to the bayou

And that’s my ode to the bayou

And that’s my ode to the bayou

So, there’s one for the ladies

Two for the gentlemen

And three for bayou...

Contents

A Night at Caryle’s

A New Me

Sippin’ Tea on Sunday

The Girl from Baton Rouge

Brand New Day

Girl on The Prowl

Intelligence Without Ambition is a Bird Without Wings

Fire is Desire

Trouble in Paradise

Tales of Louisiana Spring

Torn

The Consummate Gentleman

Sprung Over

The Key to Networking

Date Night

What Goes on in The Shadows

Exes and Oh’s

The Melody of Saints

Career Opportunities

Birthday Girl

Lights, Camera, Action

The Saks Avenue Waking Hour

Make-ups and Hang-ups

Let Bygones Be Bygones

For Your Consideration

Validation

Left of Center

The Show Must Go On...

Acknowledgements

About the Author

A Night at Caryle’s

It was a rainy night in late August, showering the streets of Lower East Manhattan. Friday nights was one of the busiest nights at Caryle’s. The staff workers ran amuck, setting up the empty tables. The hostess gathered in the incoming patrons, and the stagehands were putting up the finishing touches, unfolding the red velvet curtains.

The little jazz club located at Fifteen Essex Street opened just a year ago, and six months later, it became the Lower East Side’s hottest night spots. Todd Belamy was the owner of Caryle’s. Being a former executive at Jive Records for twenty-five years, he felt constant frustration with the music industry. So he left on a plane from Los Angeles to New York, purchasing an old, historic jazz club that was closed down in the 1950s. It allowed him to bring in fresh new talent: singers and musicians whose strengths lay in jazz, new jack swing, and R&B. Many regulars came during the week, packing in crowds of mostly college-age kids taking coffee breaks. But Friday and Saturday nights were the meal ticket of the hour. Fresh young hopefuls would grace the stage with sweet melodies, flooding the atmosphere with smooth, gentle eloquence.

Gwen Stevenson arrived at the club with her boyfriend, David Henderson. She held his hand as tightly as she could, feeling a rush of excitement. Their friend, Vera Hudgens joined them, bringing along her main squeeze, Clark.

Gwen didn’t want to fret on such a subject, but she often questioned the pair. Clark, who recently turned twenty-three, was much older. Vera was the ripe young age of sixteen. In Gwen’s mind, it was live and let live. But Vera was stuck in the clouds whenever she was around Clark, not acting like herself at times.

Vera, the radical, rebellious, aspiring filmmaker, was in a frenzied state. She was dressed in a leather bustier that she borrowed from her sister’s closet, a tight leather skirt, and traded her usual pair of Doc Martens for a pair of stiletto heels, which she’d never worn before. She was sure the suggestive outfit would impress Clark, and, from the look of things, he was more than happy with the results.

The long line of patrons wavered, clearing the way for Gwen and David to enter. There were two empty tables by the left side of the stage, just the right spot for a good view of the opening act.

It’s pretty hefty here, tonight, David said as he took a seat at the first table.

Yeah, the new recruits must be from out of town, Vera assumed, looking around the audience curiously.

Once all of the guests settled down, the lights dimmed low. Todd Belamy, a sharp-dressed African American man in his fifties, stepped onto the stage.

Welcome all, Todd announced in the microphone. I hope you’re all sitting comfortably. As you can see, we’ve got some new recruits tonight. So, sit back, relax, and enjoy the sounds of paradise. Our first performer is a special little lady, a voice so smooth it could melt like butter. Coming from the swamplands of Louisiana, now introducing... Anita Devereaux.

As Todd left the stage, the spotlight glowed on the red velvet curtain. The music begin to swell while the curtain folded on each side.

A girl stepped into the spotlight. Gwen was entranced by her elegance. The dress she wore glowed with a shimmer of emerald evergreen, her skin, smooth milk chocolate, and her hair, crinkled in goddess curls. She was a treasure in sight. The girl began to sing the lyrics of the Amy Winehouse song, Wake Up Alone. Her voice was slow like honey, serene and mature beyond her years. Her soul was belting out each word and melody. It was romantic yet somber. The lyrics were in yearning of a lover who wasn’t there, flowing gently into the soft, slow instruments.

Her very being was filled with heart and soul, and Gwen was mesmerized. Once the performance was over, the image of the girl and her unforgettable voice stayed in her mind.

Eleven o’clock rolled in and Vera parted ways, letting out a shriek of laughter as Clark carried her off into the cab by the sidewalk.

Gwen and David took a stroll down on MacDougal Street, hand in hand. It was quiet and peaceful, the sky clearing to unveil a crescent moon high above the skyline. The night was so beautiful that Gwen didn’t want it to end.

So, I hear you got a birthday coming in a couple of weeks, David asked playfully. Got anything on your mind?

Oh, it’s not worth the trouble, Dave.

It’s anything special for a special girl.

Gwen blushed. David was always the chivalrous gentleman. Well, tell me what you did on your sixteenth birthday.

Eh, just had a couple of friends over for some fish and chips, David joked. But the options are open, if I may oblige.

Gwen draped her arms over his shoulders, smelling the scent of his Axe body spray. Whatever the offer is, I’ll take it. And with that, Gwen ended the night, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

While taking a walk to the bus station, Gwen gazed at the stars, that song and those lyrics were still ringing in her head.

Soaked in soul

He swims in my eyes by the bed

Pour myself over him

Moon spilling in...

Nights such as these would live on in her dreams.

A New Me

Gwen woke up to church bells on Saturday, her eyes closed shut by heavy sleep. The sounds of the cathedral aroused her senses. Oh, how she loved waking up to the sounds of the church bells. She took a peek at her alarm clock. It was exactly one p.m. How could she have overslept that long? Though she did spend most of the night tossing and turning. Something was on her mind, and she just couldn’t figure out why.

Gwen lifted her head from the pillow, slowly climbing out of bed. She sat in front of the mirror with a vacant stare. Underneath the tousled dirty blond hair, big aqua eyes, plain wrinkled white t-shirt and pink-flowered pajama bottoms on a skinny frame, was a lost little girl. She was going to turn sixteen in two weeks, and she felt something missing in her life, some sort of fulfillment to be had. She felt that today, this day, was to be the moment where she’d completely change her whole image and branch out to greater limits.

It was time for a second makeover.

She raced down the stairs, grabbing a huge plastic bag from the kitchen. Once she made it to her room and opened the closet door, she stopped. I’ll probably keep the designer pants to style it up a bit, but the shoes and dresses? Gotta go!

Gwen stuffed half of the shoes and half the designer clothes into two separate bags, tying them up to be shipped off to a donation center.

She decided to join her mom for some much-needed afternoon coffee.

I’m halfway done with the Johnson and Leeway scandal, Susan Stevenson explained, steadily typing on her laptop while sipping on her espresso. Susan was a recent hire for The New York Times, and in a span of two weeks, she was covering the hottest press involving court scandals. The story that got her on the map was an embezzlement suit from the Wall Street market, which led her to getting stories that suited her best. Can you believe that the CEO was extorted by one of the workers? Really good stuff. I just need a couple of interviews, and I’ll be good to go.

That’s great, Mom. Gwen had a faraway look. She registered what her mom was saying, but her mind was still searching for what to do next.

Penny for your thoughts?

Gwen shook out of her state. Just...looking for a purpose in life.

Oh well, that’s everybody, honey, Susan reassured. Got any plans for today?

Plans. What are my plans, exactly? What sort of quest would she encounter on this typical Saturday afternoon, when she wanted to change her image completely?

Maybe she should give Vera a call.

***

It was three p.m. when Gwen met Mona and Vera at the Penn Station. The crowd was heavy as usual, each train car full of travelers. Gwen knew she was taking a risk of being bombarded with shoving and pushing. It was something she’d had to get used to in the two and a half months she lived here. Today would be called Savage Saturday, because day or night, the enormous amount of people traffic would fill up the subway center, causing her to move more slowly through the crowds in the space. Gwen was out of breath when she met up with the two girls.

Vera joyfully sprinted up from the bench. Glad you’ve made it, she beamed, her usual low, raspy Iranian accent up to a perky high. We’ve got just the place for you to go.

Where would that be? Gwen asked curiously.

Oh, you know, just a little hotspot in town that we’ve been enjoying for a while, Mona hinted.

Whatever it is, I’m all for it, Gwen anticipated. Just as long as we have enough room on the subway.

The girls were able to make a run for the empty car coming up. Thankfully, while inside the car, there was enough space for the girls to stretch out their legs and gaze out at the city view, moving east.

Out of the subway and into