Read the book: «Sunrise in New York»

Chapter One

New York, 26 December 1990

The sultry notes of ‘Earth Angel’ by Marvin Berry and the Starlighters floated all around me as I pushed open the door of the diner. The song oozed out of a Wurlitzer jukebox standing in the far corner and a warm rush of relief swept through me as I realised I’d made it.

To New York.

To the Starlight Diner.

To Esther.

Before stepping inside, I glanced one last time over my shoulder, just to be sure nobody was out there. Watching or waiting.

Snowflakes danced in the pale glow of street lamps and steam blew out of the subway vents, but people were few, and hurrying home out of the cold. The coast seemed to be clear.

For now.

I didn’t know what kind of reception I’d get from Esther, not after what had happened between us. When she found out what was going on, the parts it was safe to tell, I’d at least be subjected to a tut and an eyebrow raise. That much was certain. Both were almost patented gestures for her. Still, I needed a friendly face and she was the closest thing I had.

‘Hi there, honey,’ said a soft, inviting voice, which was accompanied by the rich flurry of the saxophone playing in the background. Turning, I saw who had spoken: a waitress standing just behind the counter.

Looking at her, my shoulders tightened. They were already sore from three days and two nights sleeping on buses and hostel beds and I winced at the sting.

It wasn’t Esther.

God damn it, where was she? Why couldn’t she have just put her home address on those letters she sent? Well, I had my suspicions about why. But I couldn’t think about that. Esther was pretty much the only person I had to turn to and the only lead I had on her was this restaurant.

‘Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll be right with you,’ said the waitress. I was still holding the door half-open, letting in the wintry darkness.

Nodding, I shuffled in, past some guy sitting at the end of the counter. I didn’t look right at the fella but I could feel him staring. More than likely he was eyeing up my hair, which I’d dyed blue with a three-dollar rinse and hacked off just above the shoulder with a pair of kitchen scissors on my way out of Atlantic City. I still wasn’t quite used to the attention it got me. Being a brunette was a lot less conspicuous but, after what had happened, looking anything like myself could be lethal.

Deciding on the seat furthest from the doorway – and the bitter chill – I set down my guitar and suitcase on the red and white chequered lino and sat up at the counter. Only then, when I’d stopped shivering, did I pause to properly size up my surroundings.

This wasn’t your average diner, that much was for sure. It was one of those fifties-themed restaurants built to preserve the good times gone by. That explained the Marvin Berry and the Starlighters record, and something came back to me then from one of Esther’s letters, about the diner having a retro twist.

That was no understatement.

The place was painted a blinding shade of red and had vintage signs hanging around the walls advertising sodas and milkshakes, each one complete with some sickly-sweet slogan like ‘Put a cherry on top of your day’. The smells left behind from the cooking of hot dogs, omelettes, grilled cheese sandwiches and French fries all lingered, creating their own unique, sweaty perfume. Yep, the place was just how Esther had described it alright. Well, according to the parts of her letters I could understand. Truth be told, she was a bit of a walking dictionary. Even with a college education, I only understood eight out of every ten words she said.

‘What can I get for you, honey?’ The waitress, who according to her name tag was called Mona, leaned on the counter with her notebook in hand. She looked weary, as would anyone who was still at work past eleven the day after Christmas, and was wearing quite a bit of make-up to cover up the fact she was beat. She’d glazed her lips with a cherry-coloured lip gloss and lightning bolts of silver powder zigzagged across her eyelids in sharp contrast to her black skin.

I opened my mouth to place an order but then hesitated. I had about seven dollars left in the world. No point ordering big if Esther wasn’t even around.

‘Matter of fact, I’m looking for Esther Knight. She still work here?’ My question came out casual enough, which was a miracle considering how desperate I was.

‘Oh, you’re a friend of Esther’s?’ said Mona.

Neat. How do I answer that one honestly?

Am I a friend of Esther’s?

I think so. I think she forgave me for what I did. It was months ago now and she’d written me a couple of letters like she promised so she couldn’t be that sore about it.

‘Uh, yeah,’ I said.

Oh, nice going, Bonnie. Just spectacular. A commendation to you on delivering the least convincing declaration of friendship ever.

‘Well, she’s over in England, visiting her mom for Christmas. Not back till late tomorrow,’ the waitress explained.

‘Oh.’ I heard the crack in my voice but Mona didn’t seem to notice. Hearing that news was like being shot through the heart. Esther really wasn’t here. Not even in this country, let alone the city. I had no money, no place to go and it was glacial outside. What the hell was I going to do? Ride the subway all night? That seemed to be about my only option. It was that or freeze to death on a park bench.

‘Want something to drink while you’re here?’ asked Mona.

‘I’ll get a cuppa coffee. Thanks,’ I said, trying to ignore the empty churn of my stomach. I had to save what money I could. Tomorrow, people would be out shopping again and I could busk for a few more bucks. Probably scrape together enough for a decent-sized pizza and a night in a cheap motel in case things didn’t work out with Esther.

‘Not a problem, just gotta run out back and get a fresh pack of beans. Won’t be a minute, honey,’ Mona said. I was going to say something polite. That she should take as much time as she wanted, I wasn’t in any rush to be back out in the cold, that kind of thing. But at the idea of being outside, alone in New York, all the words caught at the back of my throat. So I just did a little shrug and smiled as best I could.

The second she pushed through the swing doors out to the kitchen however, it happened. Tears, thick and salty, forced their way out. My whole body shook with the might of them and I covered my eyes and mouth with my hands in an attempt to block out the world. To forget the fact that I was howling like a kid in a downtown diner, all to the tune of ‘Shake, Rattle and Roll’, which had followed up ‘Earth Angel’ on the Wurlitzer.

‘Hey, you alright?’ a man’s voice said. I jumped at the sound. The guy at the counter with the staring problem. I’d forgotten about him. Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse. Thanks to my dad accusing me of ‘turning on the waterworks’ whenever I’d wept as a child, I hated to cry under any circumstances, but it was always worse when you had a witness.

And now what was I supposed to say to this guy?

I sucked in as much oxygen as I could, dropped my hands to the counter and turned. Twisting my lips into something that resembled a smile, I tried to stem the flow of my tears. I hadn’t really got a good look at the man before. He had a sharpness to his eyes. They were a deep brown and pretty intense, to the point that he seemed almost angry about something. His hair fell in blonde waves around his face and he might’ve been cute if he only learned to smile instead of leer, and if he halved the amount of cologne he wore. The musty smell caught at the back of my throat even from this distance; I didn’t want to know how it was up close. What did he do, shower in that junk?

His eyes hadn’t left mine. He was still waiting on an answer to his question.

Was I alright?

People were asking me all the hard questions tonight. Not wanting to lie right to his face, I turned away and nodded at the coffee machine behind the counter. The gesture was far too quick to fool anyone, even myself.

‘I’m fine. I’m just…’ I swallowed back more tears. ‘I’m just real tired is all.’

‘Well, if you’re tired, maybe you should be in bed.’

I glanced over again to see the guy was trying to smile. It was still coming across as a leer.

‘I wish I was.’

‘Here we go, hon—’ Mona came breezing back through from the kitchen but stopped mid-sentence when she saw the state I was in. She looked from me to the man at the end of the counter. ‘Oh Lord, what you do to her? I was only gone a minute.’ The waitress put her hands on her hips and glared in his direction.

‘I didn’t do nothing,’ the guy protested.

‘Don’t give me that, you’ve been causin’ trouble, again,’ said Mona, pointing a finger at him.

‘Feel free to step in and defend me any time you like,’ said the man, aiming his words at me. There was a noticeable sting to his voice.

‘He didn’t do anything,’ I said to Mona, realising he was right. It would’ve been polite to jump in sooner than I had to make that clear. Course, Mona must have her reasons for suspecting he’d done something to me. Maybe this guy didn’t deserve to be defended.

‘You sure?’ Mona squinted.

I looked at the guy, his face darkened by the false allegations.

‘Yeah.’ I bit my lower lip, trying to think of a believable cover story for my breakdown. ‘I’m just real tired and it’s cold out and I was really hoping to see Esther tonight, you know. Haven’t seen her in a long time and it all just got a bit much for a minute,’ I said, unsure if this explanation made my howling sound in any way reasonable or if I was coming across as an absolute nutjob to these people.

‘Well, if you’re sure that’s all it is.’ Mona looked from me back to the guy, her eyes still narrow.

‘I’m sure I’ll feel better after a coffee. Once I’ve warmed up,’ I said. It was the truth but also it’d be best for everyone if the conversation moved on. The less they knew about what it was that had me running around New York, trying to find a waitress I hadn’t spoken to in ten months, the better.

‘And I’ll get right on that, honey,’ Mona said, turning to pour the beans into the coffee machine.

‘Hey, Blue, mind if I join you down that end?’ The guy called down the length of the counter.

‘Sure,’ I shrugged. ‘But my name’s not Blue. It’s Bonnie.’

‘Well, you look like a Blue to me.’ He shoved his plate with a half-eaten burger on it down towards me. I was going to protest about his unimaginative nickname but the food suddenly thrust in front of me was far more distracting. I looked at the meat, cooked medium rare so it was pink and juicy in the middle, topped with crisp lettuce and fresh tomato. Mona had her back to me, fiddling with the coffee machine. The guy was turned back towards the stool he’d been sitting on, retrieving his coat and satchel. I saw my chance, took a huge bite of his burger and stuffed three French fries in my mouth, turning my head towards the kitchen doors and making out like I was admiring the decor, so I had time to chew and swallow.

When I turned back the guy was sitting in the stool next to me, grinning.

‘Hungry?’ he asked, pushing his plate towards me as if suggesting I should help myself. Oh God, he’d seen me steal from his plate. It was official. I couldn’t sink any lower.

‘Uh, no, thanks, I just ate,’ I said.

The guy looked at me hard and long, and an almost unbearable blush started creeping up the back of my neck. Then Mona came over and set down my coffee, breaking whatever weird little moment we were having.

‘There you go, honey,’ said the waitress.

‘I’m Jimmy, by the way. Jimmy Boyle,’ said the guy, shovelling in one of the remaining French fries. He chewed with his mouth open and I looked down into the black depths of my coffee so I didn’t have to watch him eat. It wasn’t pretty. I’d been right about the cologne too. Up close it was so strong it was almost difficult to breathe.

‘Like I said, Bonnie.’

‘That accent from the Midwest somewhere?’ asked Jimmy.

‘Yeah, Detroit. Born and raised.’ I cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the taste of his cologne, but somehow that only made it worse.

‘Like the Journey song?’ he said, leering again.

‘Well, that’s South Detroit but close enough, sure.’ As I answered, I turned my head to him out of politeness to find him examining my face. I looked him up and down in return, uneasy and shuffling in my seat.

‘And how do you know Esther?’ Mona asked. Pulling my eyes away from Jimmy, I poured some cream into my coffee and pondered how to answer that question.

‘We worked at the same casino out in Atlantic City.’

Before she left.

It was only partly because of what I did, I think. Esther never liked Atlantic City as much as she thought she would. Called it a ‘city of excess’, and it was that alright. Modesty was a stranger in that town. Order at any bar, and a rum and coke would become a double without you even asking. Wine wasn’t served in glasses but in vase-sized urns. The drunker you got, the greater the chances were of you shoving coins into slots, and that’s all the casino bosses were interested in. No, Esther never felt at home there, and I guess I didn’t either. But that wasn’t so surprising. I’d never felt at home anywhere, not even in the house I grew up in.

‘Oh yeah, Esther did mention something about frying omelettes on the coast for a season,’ said Mona.

‘That must’ve been somewhere between the timely death of her first husband and hooking up with her new actor boy toy,’ Jimmy sneered.

‘What?’ My head swerved in Jimmy’s direction. Esther had been married? She’d mentioned Jack Faber in her letters, an actor she’d met at the diner and fallen head over heels for, but a husband? That’d never come up.

Actually, she’d never revealed anything much about her life back in England, not in the whole time I’d known her. I guess if she’d lost a husband there, that was probably why. Being a young widow isn’t exactly what a woman dreams about when she walks down the aisle. God, poor Esther.

Mona glared at Jimmy, but when she spoke, she kept her voice very cool and calm. ‘You want to talk about Esther like that? You can go elsewhere, you don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.’

‘I know a lot more than you think I know,’ said Jimmy, digging his fork into a slice of tomato on his plate so the seeds and juices oozed everywhere.

‘Huh.’ Mona shook her head at him. ‘You only think you know, fool. And I’m a fool too for letting you back in here after what you did to her.’

Jimmy frowned at Mona. His breathing was heavier than it had been but he didn’t argue back.

‘What…what did you do?’ I asked, wondering if whatever he’d done to Esther was as bad as what I’d done.

‘Buy me dinner sometime, maybe I’ll tell you the story,’ he replied, his voice sharp.

Looking at his hardened face, the lines of bitterness etched deep around his eyes, I really didn’t know what to think of Jimmy. But Mona must’ve been mad at him for a reason and she was the one I needed on side. Right then, she was my only link to Esther.

‘Is this guy for real?’ I asked Mona.

‘Haven’t really figured that out yet,’ she replied.

‘Oh, I see. Go right ahead. Blame Jimmy. That’s convenient. The fact that Esther’s boyfriend beat me to a pulp. That don’t figure in this, right? I mean, that’s just an alright thing to do to a guy?’

‘And I suppose you were the innocent party?’ Mona folded her arms. ‘You did absolutely nothing to provoke him?’

‘I didn’t hit first. That I can say.’

Mona rolled her eyes. Arguing with Jimmy did seem like a dead-end pursuit. He turned then, fixing his stare back on me.

‘Are you a waitress like Esther? Because frankly, in my experience, waitresses are a whole lot more trouble than they’re worth.’

‘Keep it up, Boyle. That’s strike two. One more and you’re out that door,’ Mona hissed. Jimmy raised his hands in mock surrender.

‘You know many waitresses that carry a guitar around with them?’ I said. ‘I’m a musician.’

‘Is that code for unemployed?’ said Jimmy, and gave a short, breathy laugh.

‘Well, up until recently I sang lead vocals in a band. But now I’m solo.’

Yep, so-low alright.

‘What band, will I have heard of ’em?’ asked Mona.

‘Oh, no. It was just a tribute act in a casino. The Sexties,’ I said.

Jimmy, who was taking a drink, spat out his soda at this.

‘The what? The Sexties?’ he said, looking me up and down. Oh great. This fella was obviously what me and the other band members used to call a ‘suggestible’ – a guy who heard the word ‘sex’ in our band name and then couldn’t think about nothing else.

‘Yeah.’ The back of my neck felt all hot again, but it always did when people asked what I did. It wasn’t the sex thing. You can’t sing in a band like the Sexties and be coy. But being a member of a Sixties tribute act in Atlantic City wasn’t exactly the New York Philharmonic, and most people weren’t quick to let you forget that. ‘It was dumb really. You know casino events managers. Not exactly known for their sense of subtlety. But the tourists loved us. The Sexties sang the sexiest songs of the Sixties.’

‘Bet you wore cute little outfits too,’ Jimmy said, his eyes on my body rather than my face.

‘Actually, we did.’ I gave Mona a quick wink to signal I was about to have some fun here. Christmas had been miserable and ten minutes ago I’d been crying my heart out. Winding up a sleaze like Jimmy Boyle seemed like a sure way of cheering myself up. ‘We wore little red halter tops with ‘The Sexties’ written across the chest in shimmering, gold print. Denim hot pants and black stiletto heels.’ Jimmy’s jaw hung loose at my description. I would’ve taken more pleasure in this if I’d been exaggerating, but that’s exactly what we had worn. Night after night, and it was damn uncomfortable.

‘You don’t say.’ The words drifted out of Jimmy’s mouth. He was lost in a vague daydream now. Mona put her hand across her face to hide a giggle. But the fun wasn’t over yet.

‘Yeah, course my halter top and hot pants had to be cut a little larger than the other girls to accommodate my shape. As you can see, I don’t exactly live off salad.’ I moved my hands down the sides of my purple sweater dress, pressing the material flat against me to illustrate how my body bulged out at the top, tapered in at the waist and curved out at the hips.

Jimmy’s eyes were wide now, and I swear I saw him gulp.

‘Where’d you say you were stayin’ tonight?’ he asked, still half in a daze. Mona laughed at him and shook her head. I joined in and would’ve laughed harder except where I was staying was a bit of a touchy subject.

‘Uh, actually I got a room booked in some fancy hotel,’ I lied.

‘Oh yeah, which one?’ asked Jimmy, snapping out of his trance.

‘That’s privileged information, I’m afraid.’ I smiled and then took a sip of my coffee. ‘Not really the kind of thing you go round blabbin’ to strangers.’

Jimmy looked at my suitcase and then back up at me. He was doing some figuring but exactly what he was working out about me, I couldn’t tell.

‘Why’d you say you were in town?’ His eyes were narrowed at me now.

‘You always ask this many questions?’ I teased, biding a bit of time.

‘Force of habit. I’m a reporter for The Chronicle. So, just naturally curious, you know,’ he explained.

‘Well, I’m just passing through.’ I took another gulp of coffee, shielding my face with the large mug. I was a terrible liar, which is why, if I could avoid it, I never did it. I had a feeling, though, that it was a skill I was going to have to work on if I wanted to stay alive.

‘From where to where?’ Jimmy pushed. I kept drinking my coffee. Pretending I was thirsty when really I just needed thinking time… and the warmth to get me through the cold night ahead.

‘New Jersey to Grosse Pointe.’ Another lie. ‘On my way home to see the folks. Missed them over the holidays with one thing and another.’

Mona nodded along, seemingly swallowing my story, but Jimmy just stared straight at me. He didn’t believe a word of it, I could feel it.

At that moment, the doorbell chimed, closely followed by the words ‘Evening jelly bean, how ’bout some coffee?’

‘Will you excuse me?’ said Mona. ‘That’s my husband.’

I turned to look at him. He was a tall, black man with a hairline that suggested he was somewhere in his late thirties. He had a trimmed beard and calm, steady eyes. Oh, and he was wearing a police uniform.

Neat. A cop. Just what I needed.

I diverted my eyes back to the counter real quick, my shoulders tensing. Out of the corner of my eye, I felt Jimmy looking at me but tried to pretend like I didn’t realise. Glancing back at the glass frontage of the diner, I could see it was still snowing outside. I didn’t want to go back out there but this Jimmy fella wasn’t going to let up with his questions, and hanging out with a cop wasn’t a smart idea just now. Besides, if I told any more lies I might have to account for some of them when Esther got back.

I looked at my Swatch and feigned surprise at the hour.

‘Wow. I’d better go and check in. Mind if I pay up?’ I called down to Mona.

‘Sure thing, honey,’ the waitress said, placing a saucer on the counter with my check. I looked at the amount and paused. I couldn’t really afford to tip but I’d just told Mona and Jimmy I had a swanky hotel lined up so I couldn’t very well not tip. God damn it, Bonnie, why do you have to open your big yap? Inwardly, I called myself names I’d never dare say in front of my mama and doled out two of the seven dollar bills I had left in the world.

The tears that I’d managed to squash by taunting Jimmy started to swell again. I had to get out of this place before I made my second scene of the evening. The last thing I needed was to start bawling in front of a police officer who may or may not be in the pocket of the very man I was trying to escape.

‘Thanks for the coffee.’ I pulled my leather jacket back on and managed to smile at Mona, though it was a fragile smile, likely to break any second. ‘I’ll swing by later tomorrow and catch up with Esther.’ I did a good job of making it sound like no big deal either way, when really my life depended on it.

‘It was… interesting meeting you,’ I said to Jimmy, picking up my guitar and my suitcase. He’d gone very quiet but was still staring at me.

‘Yeah. Interesting is the word I’d choose,’ he said without a smile.

Looking towards the door, I took a deep breath, lowered my head as I passed the cop and walked away.

I braced myself for the brutality of New York in a blizzard.