Tale 1: The Jelly-Bean (Part III)

Adapted by Khidir Mohamed Yazir (Kid Haider)

III

At twelve o'clock, a line of people in cloaks emerged from the women's dressing room, each one pairing up with a man in a coat like dancers in a cotillion. They drifted through the door with sleepy, happy laughter, disappearing into the darkness where cars were parked and people chatted around the water cooler.

Jim, sitting in his corner, got up to look for Clark. They had met at eleven, but Clark had gone to dance. Jim went to the soft drink stand, which used to be a bar. The room was empty except for a tired bartender and two boys playing dice at a table. Just as Jim was about to leave, he saw Clark walking in. They made eye contact and Clark called out, "Hi, Jim! Come over and help us finish this bottle. There's not much left, but we can all have a drink."

Nancy, a man from Savannah, Marylyn Wade, and Joe Ewing were hanging out in the doorway, lounging and laughing. Nancy caught Jim's eye and winked playfully.

They all moved over to a table and sat down, waiting for the waiter to bring them some ginger ale. Jim, feeling a bit uneasy, glanced over at Nancy who was now playing a game with two boys at the neighbouring table.

"Bring them over here," Clark suggested.

Joe looked around nervously.

"We don't want to attract attention. It's against the club rules," he said.

"No one's around," Clark insisted, "except Mr. Taylor. He's pacing back and forth like a madman, trying to figure out who stole all the gas from his car."

Everyone chuckled.

"I bet Nancy stepped in something again. You can never have peace when she's around," someone joked.

"Oh Nancy, Mr. Taylor is looking for you!" another person called out.

Nancy's cheeks were flushed with excitement from the game. "I haven't seen his old car in two weeks," she said.

Suddenly, there was a hush in the room. Jim turned around and saw a man of indeterminate age standing in the doorway.

Clark broke the silence. "Won't you join us, Mr. Taylor?"

"Thanks," the man replied.

Mr. Taylor plopped down in a chair, looking all grumpy.

"I guess I have to wait until they bring me some gas. Someone messed with my car."

His eyes narrowed as he glanced back and forth between the two of them. Jim wondered what he had overheard from the doorway and tried to recall what had been said.

"I'm on fire tonight," Nancy declared, "and I've got my money on the line."

"Faded!" Taylor snapped out of nowhere.

"Why, Mr. Taylor, I didn't know you played dice!" Nancy was thrilled to see him join in and quickly matched his bet. They had openly disliked each other ever since she shut down his advances one night.

"Come on, babies, do it for your mama. Just one little seven," Nancy cooed to the dice. She gave them a good shake and rolled them out on the table.

"Oh no! I knew it. And now, let's double the bet," Taylor grumbled.

After five successful rolls, Taylor was getting pretty annoyed. Nancy was really rubbing it in, and Jim could see the satisfaction on her face after each win. She kept doubling her bet with each throw, but Jim thought her luck wouldn't last. "You might want to slow down a bit," he suggested nervously.

"Ah, but watch this one," Nancy whispered. The dice landed on an eight, and she called out her number.

"Looks like we're heading South this time, Ada."

Ada from Decatur confidently rolled the dice across the table. Nancy, on the other hand, was feeling the pressure and was on the verge of losing it, but somehow her luck was still on her side.

She kept raising the stakes, not willing to back down. Taylor, although nervous, was committed to the game. The tension in the room was palpable as he impatiently tapped his fingers on the table.

When Nancy lost the dice, Taylor eagerly snatched them up. The room fell silent as he made his move, the only sound being the dice hitting the table.

As the game went on, Nancy's luck took a turn for the worse. Hours passed with the game going back and forth. Taylor seemed to have an endless streak of luck, leaving them tied in the end with Nancy losing her last five dollars.

Desperate, Nancy offered Taylor a check for fifty dollars to continue playing. Her voice trembled slightly as she reached for the money.

Clark and Joe Ewing exchanged worried glances as Taylor accepted Nancy's check and continued to play.

Nancy, now frantic, asked for another round, willing to use any bank's money to keep the game going. Money was flying everywhere, and the tension in the room was at an all-time high.

Jim understood the significance of the corn he had given her, the corn she had been taking for a while now. He hesitated to intervene, as a girl of her age and social standing probably wouldn't have two bank accounts. But when the clock struck two, he couldn't hold back any longer.

"Hey, can I roll the dice for you?" Jim suggested, his voice sounding a bit strained.

Feeling suddenly tired and uninterested, Nancy tossed the dice in front of him.

"Sure thing, old boy! Let's shoot 'em, Jelly-bean. My luck has run out," she said, quoting Lady Diana Manners.

"Mr. Taylor," Jim said casually, "let's play for one of those checks instead of cash."

After half an hour, Nancy leaned forward and patted him on the back.

"You stole my luck," she said, nodding knowingly.

Jim gathered up the remaining checks, tore them into confetti, and scattered them on the floor. Someone started singing, and Nancy, pushing her chair back, stood up.

Ladies and gentlemen, she announced, "Ladies - that's you, Marylyn. I want to share with the world that Mr. Jim Powell, a well-known Jelly-bean in this city, is an exception to the rule - lucky in dice, unlucky in love. He's lucky in dice, and as a matter of fact, I love him. Ladies and gentlemen, Nancy Lamar, the famous dark-haired beauty often featured in the Herald as one of the most popular members of the younger set, wishes to announce - wishes to announce, anyway, gentlemen..." She stumbled a bit, but Clark caught her and helped her regain her balance.

"My mistake," she laughed. "She stoops to - stoops to - anyway, let's raise a toast to Jelly-bean... Mr. Jim Powell, the King of the Jelly-beans."

A few minutes later, as Jim waited with his hat in hand for Clark in the dark corner of the porch where she had come looking for gas, she suddenly appeared beside him.

"Jelly-bean, are you here, Jelly-bean? I think..." Her slight unsteadiness made it feel like an enchanted dream. "I think you deserve one of my sweetest kisses for that, Jelly-bean."

For a moment, her arms were around his neck, and her lips pressed against his.

"I'm a wild one, Jelly-bean, but you did me a good turn."

Then she disappeared, walking swiftly down the porch and across the loud, cricket-filled lawn. Jim watched as Merritt stormed out of the front door and said something angrily to her. He saw her laugh, then turn away with averted eyes and head to his car. Marylyn and Joe followed, singing a sleepy song about Jazz.

Clark came out and joined Jim on the steps. "Looks like things got pretty heated," he yawned. "Merritt's in a bad mood. He's definitely not happy with Nancy."

In the east, a faint gray light spread across the night, creeping over the golf course. The group in the car started chanting as the engine revved up.

"Goodnight, everyone," called Clark.

"Goodnight, Clark."

"Goodnight."

After a moment of silence, a soft, cheerful voice added, "Goodnight, Jelly-bean."

The car drove off, the sound of singing fading away. A rooster crowed mournfully in the distance, and a waiter turned off the porch light. Jim and Clark walked over to the Ford, their shoes crunching loudly on the gravel driveway.

"Man, you really know how to roll those dice!" Clark sighed softly.

It was still too dark for Clark to see the flush on Jim's cheeks, or to realize that it was a flush of shame.