Chapter XI

Awkwardly, I stood at the stoop of Lukas’s mansion, waiting for the door to be answered.  While I knew it was counterproductive to my desire to be more honest, I was overwhelmed by the evening’s argument and chose to sneak out of the house. 

Just when I’d waited long enough that I thought I’d turn around and go back home — not let my impulses win for once — the butler opened the door. Herr Fleischer was fairly young, in his thirties, with dark hair and a pencil-thin mustache like he imagined himself to be Clark Gable. He put on airs of being handsome and sophisticated, and I guess he was — but Lukas was right that the real thing driving Herr Fleischer was money, and perhaps his late-night trysts with Karolina, the buxom housekeeper. 

It was for these reasons Herr Fleischer and Lukas had come to their understanding. Lukas got a handsome stipend every month from his father, which Fleischer took a cut of, and if Fleischer didn’t say anything about Lukas’s activities, Lukas wouldn’t say anything about his. A mutually beneficial relationship, as it were. 

“Herr Schweinhardt,” Fleischer said in that affected way of his, “a pleasure to see you this evening. I’m assuming you’re here to see young Herr Richter. Do come in.”

He stepped aside, and I gingerly entered the foyer. Before I could walk any further, Herr Fleischer cleared his throat. That was my cue to hand over two fifty-pfennig coins, which was my understanding with him: a bribe from myself for good measure.

“Ah, thank you for your generous tip, Herr Schweinhardt,” he said. “If you wait in the parlor, I’ll retrieve young Herr Richter for you.”

I followed Fleischer and waited in the parlor as instructed. A few minutes later, Lukas entered, surprising me with his appearance. He was dressed up fancier than I’d ever seen him, like a Hollywood movie star in one of those gangster films. His pin-striped suit was a warm brown that was a perfect match to his hair and eyes, and he wore a pair of wingtip shoes nicer and more polished than the ones he wore to school.

Embarrassment washed over me as I realized I must’ve caught him at a bad time. Clearly, he was going out somewhere. But instead of telling me I needed to go home, Lukas just greeted me with a smirk.

“Hey, Milo. Are you ready to go?”

“Uh … where are we going?”

He kept walking, out of the parlor and toward the foyer, so I followed him. He glanced at me over his shoulder, his grin widening. “You’ll see,” he told me cryptically. 

We stopped at the coatrack beside the front door, where Lukas grabbed a dark overcoat, a deep red scarf, and his hat. He put them all on, while I just stood there, realizing I wasn’t dressed up for wherever he was taking me. Although everyone else in our group had the Swing Guy fashion down — the boys with their long coats and loose-fitting trousers, and the girls with their short skirts, red lips, and Jean Harlow curls — I hadn’t been able to afford any new clothes yet. I still looked out of place with my Catholic church-boy sweater-vest look. 

Lukas must’ve realized how discomfited I felt, because he took an extra coat, scarf, and hat off the rack and tossed them to me. I clumsily caught them and stood there for a moment.

“You can have those,” he said.

I ran my fingers over the coarse wool fabric of the black coat, and admired the chunky-knit scarf. It was green: my favorite color. I quickly put everything on, trying not to let Lukas see that I was moved by his generosity. We both left, walking briskly down the sidewalk. 

It had been darker in the hills of Karlshöhe with the cover of all the trees, but as we drew closer to the city center, the dazzling lights of cars, street lamps, and buildings grew in number. There was a thrum of the city’s life-force that seemed to become louder as well.

“Didn’t you have to study for your French exam tonight?” Lukas asked me.

My stomach sank. I did, but had forgotten. Now there I was, unbeknownst to my family, traipsing around the city to do God knows what instead. I took the thought, tied it up in a neat little box, and shoved it away.  “Oh, I finished with that a while ago,” I lied. “Then my mother and brother got into a fight, and I didn’t feel like sticking around after that, so…”

“So you snuck out,” Lukas finished with a snarky chuckle.

I shrugged. “I guess…” 

We were about to round a street corner when my ears picked up the sound of familiar laughter. It was Leah, and my heart suddenly fluttered over that realization. After we made the turn around the building there, I spotted her walking with Salomé down the sidewalk heading in the same direction we now were. It seemed as if the plan, whatever it might have been, was for the girls to meet Lukas at the place they were going, and we had happened to catch up to them beforehand.

As we came upon them from behind, Lukas smirked devilishly. He produced a loud whistle that startled both them and me. Salomé whipped around. Her arm was lifted, the collection of golden bangles she always wore jangling, and it looked like she might strike, until she realized who it was. She paused, glaring at Lukas — who just laughed — before deciding to hit him anyway. 

“You Arschloch!” she shouted.

He laughed even more, and Leah and I tried not to join him. “Look!” he said. “A pair of beautiful kittens strolling down the street. How lucky for us.” Lukas sidled up behind Salomé, pulling her against him by her hips. 

She rolled her eyes and playfully shoved her hand into his face. “Shut up!” she said as she continued to walk, and Lukas followed after her like a love-sick puppy. 

In their wake, Leah and I stood awkwardly for a moment, and I found I couldn’t help myself staring at her. I hadn’t noticed it before, but she was really beautiful in dark blue, and the way the dress clung to her body was — I stopped myself. Beautiful!? What is wrong with me? She’s my friend. I can’t think about her like that!

I tried to cease such thoughts, but it was too late to do anything about my physical reaction to them. How embarrassing, I lamented as we continued to linger there as I hoped she wouldn’t notice anything was bothering me.

       Leah eyed me sheepishly as she tucked one of her reddish curls behind her ear. “That jacket looks nice on you,” she said. “And I like that scarf. It brings out your eyes.” 

I gulped. My … what? She’d been looking at my — me — “I — er — um,” I stuttered, “thanks. You too — sorry — I mean you look nice, also.”

Idiot, I chided myself. 

“Hey!” Lukas called from down the street where he stood arm-in-arm with Salomé. “Are you two coming, or what?”

Leah and I glanced at each other once more before hurriedly continuing down the street.

“I didn’t know you’d be able to come tonight,” she said with a smile. 

I couldn’t help a nervous giggle. “I don’t even know where we’re going.”

“Well, we’re just about there,” Lukas interjected, as we caught back up with him and Salomé. He gestured down the street where there stood a queue of people waiting by a brick building with a bright neon sign. As we drew nearer and joined the queue ourselves, I could hear the muffled sound of music from within. 

“This … is this a dancehall?” I asked tentatively.

Lukas had just pulled out a cigarette and it hung from his lips as he lit it. “The only jazz joint in our part of town,” he mumbled through the smoke. 

“And they’re really going to let us in?” I was doubtful, but Lukas just took his first full drag off the cigarette and scoffed.

“Don’t worry,” he reassured me. “I’ve got this.” 

I glanced at the girls to see their reactions. Salomé pursed her lips sarcastically, and Leah just smiled at me. Before long, we had made it to the front of the queue where a stout young man wearing a dark suit and a fedora hat stood at the door. When he saw Lukas, he tightened his arms, which were folded across his chest, and he spit on the ground.

“Not you again.”

Lukas smiled, spreading his hands out in a sort of nonchalant gesture. “Come on, now, Paul.”

But Paul wasn’t having any of it. “It’s Herr Heisler to you, you little Schlingel!” he snapped as he pointed a stubby finger at Lukas.  

“Look,” Lukas continued, “we just want to show our new friend here a fun night dancing. I promise I won’t cause any trouble …”

Paul eyed the four of us suspiciously, but ultimately relented to Lukas’s attempt at charming him. “Fine!” he yelled, still pointing. “But you know the rules! You leave right at nine o’clock. I refuse to be responsible for you breaking curfew! And if you hear the bell, you run out the back door. I’m already on thin ice here doing business with folks I shouldn’t.” 

Lukas grinned and saluted Paul. Not like a Sieg salute, but the kind a British army captain might do — very formal and intentionally silly. “Yes, Herr Heisler, sir!” he shouted, for added ridiculous effect. 

Paul shook his head. “You’re a real Klugscheißer, you know that?”

Lukas burst up laughing as Paul reluctantly let us all through the door. Before fully entering, Lukas took Paul’s hand while giving him a stack of Reichsmark notes. So much bribery, I thought, to live this lifestyle. Alongside the others, I hung my hat and accessories on the coatrack just inside the door. 

“What did Herr Heisler mean about the bell?” I asked Lukas as we walked. 

He turned to me, no air of sarcasm or tomfoolery to be found. “It means the police are here, and people like the three of us had better get out before we’re seen.” He gestured to himself, Salomé, and Leah, and I realized he meant that they could get in trouble for doing business with Aryans — not to mention the assumptions that could be made about many of the Nuremberg Laws being broken in a place like this. I gulped, giving Leah a sidelong look. Thank God the Gestapo couldn’t read people’s minds, because I would’ve been instantly arrested for the ones I’d had about her earlier… But I didn’t want to entertain any more about that, so I turned my focus to everything around me. 

I had never been in such a place before. It occurred to me that if Otto had known I was there, he would’ve killed me — and for some reason, that was an exhilarating thought. The feeling of rebellion. A smile grew on my face as I looked about the club. It was dimly lit and filled with cigarette smoke — perhaps what one might call “dingy” — but there was an energy of excitement throughout that made up for it.