We had to sit through a few more acts, but I don’t remember what they were. “How would you know? You’ve got stardust in your pants.” When she finished, he crossed his arms over his chest, scowling, his mustache wiggling on his upper lip. “Don’t talk to me.” He grumbled through the whole song. I had to admit he had a point, but I didn’t want to admit it. Can you picture that woman actually working for ten cents a dance, having men slobbering all over her?” Juliana leaned against the piano and began “Ten Cents a Dance.” Max slapped his hand against the table. “Such a beautiful woman,” I heard him whisper, but he wasn’t talking to me. I applauded so hard I thought my hands would fall off. She danced close to the edge of the stage and I gasped afraid she’d fall off, but she didn’t. She sang into the microphone starting off slow, then the tempo picked up and she moved away from the pole and danced while singing. She leaned against a pole that was in the center of the stage, and the piano in the back played the introduction. Juliana blew him a kiss as he lifted the hem of his dress to exit. I didn’t like that man dressed as a woman saying that to her, but the audience thought it was hysterical.
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Before leaving the stage, the master of ceremonies said something about his phony breasts compared to Juliana’s real ones only he used a different word for them that I didn’t like to use back then. She wore a silky royal blue dress that fell to her midcalf. There was polite applause in between talking and silverware dropping as Juliana floated onto the stage looking untouched by the eighty-eight degree heat. Finally, the mistress/master announced Juliana. We had to sit through a comic, a juggler, and a man singing love songs while sweat rolled down his nose. Max looked all around the room like he was nervous about something. The man dressed like a woman, the mistress-no, master of ceremonies-sang some Broadway show tunes that I knew from the radio. What an amazing place this New York City was. “That lady is a man? Wow!” I sat back in my chair. I leaned over to Max, “I’ve never heard of a lady announcer before.” She winked at people in the audience and moved her hips like Mae West. She had blonde hair that was piled higher on her head than Miss Virginia Sales, and she wore a dress that twinkled. She was the tallest lady I’d ever seen with big wide shoulders and big hands she flapped around like fans. Soon the mistress of ceremonies came out on the tiny round stage. I learned much later that supper clubs had to serve food ’cause New York law required places serving liquor to also provide food even if it wasn’t anything more than a crummy bologna sandwich. Max said this place was called a supper club and proceeded to order us two bologna sandwiches to go with our Manhattans. The ceiling fans whirred, pushing around the heat. I hurried to sit down, relieved that sitting meant no one could see the bottom half of me. This place was even smaller than the other club and not as bright. I followed close behind Max trying to keep my legs pressed tight together, but I kept knocking myself over. Max held the door of the Klub open, and I slipped inside looking straight ahead so I wouldn’t see people pointing at me. Timothy drove off leaving me standing on 8th Street where everyone could see me in pants. Max yanked the long coat off me and threw it in the backseat.
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Timothy was a muscular man in a black jacket with a cap on his head. Timothy, our limousine driver, pulled the car over to the curb in front of an awning that said Tom Kat Klub. It seemed to me that in a neighborhood where you could get a cheap salami sandwich, you didn’t need to arrive in a limousine. Sam’s Deli was across the street so I got myself a cheap salami and cheese sandwich. Last week after work, I walked up this street to the Whitney Museum ’cause I don’t know much about art and I wanted to educate myself. I didn’t feel comfortable driving in a limousine like a grand lady. I opened the window trying to catch a breeze. “That wasn’t exactly how I would have put it, but you have the spirit of the thing.” “Walk when he can take a limousine and look like a complete donkey. “Max, you know we could have just walked. We turned off Broadway onto Eighth Street. The limousine bumped and shook over the cobblestone on its way past Wanamaker’s department store.