Those had been good times, their father coming home from his job with the Gerard Lockhart Orchestra with a jovial, “Well, well, well, what have the Campbell brothers been up to today?” Memphis missed the smell of his father’s pipe in the front parlor. Sometimes he’d walk in front of the tobacco shop on Lenox Avenue just to light the memory of it in his mind.
“Watch out for Isaiah,” his mother had said to him. She was skin and bones then, lying in the front room, the sickness robbing her of the playfulness he’d always loved about her. Her eyes had a hollow look. “Promise me.” He’d promised. Three days later, they’d buried her out in Woodlawn Cemetery. The Gerard Lockhart Orchestra relocated to Chicago, and Memphis’s father with it, until he could save enough to send for Memphis and Isaiah. But there never seemed to be enough, and there they stayed, in the back room at Octavia’s. Isaiah was all that was left of those happier times when their family was all together, when you only had to walk through the door to hear somebody laughing or calling out, “Who’s that knocking at my door?” and Memphis held tightly to his brother. If anything happened to Isaiah, he wasn’t sure he could survive it.
But all that was the past, and he wasn’t going to dwell there. The night before with Theta had given him new hope. She was somewhere out there in that city, and Memphis meant to keep looking until he found her again.
At the pharmacy, he and Isaiah took two seats at the counter and Mr. Reggie put their order on, pressing two hamburgers against the grill with a spatula, making a comforting hiss of grease and heat. He scooped them onto plates and served them up, along with a soda for Memphis and a chocolate shake for Isaiah. Isaiah got to work spooning the thick ice cream into his mouth, dribbling half down his chin.
“Looks like I’m just in time.” Gabe dropped onto the stool next to Memphis. He grabbed Memphis’s hamburger and took a generous bite from it. “Mr. Campbell. Just the man I wanted to see. Alma’s having a rent party. We going. Oh, and get us some good hooch.”
Gabe handed him a thick wad of bills.
“Not in front of Isaiah,” Memphis whispered.
“He doesn’t know what we’re talking about. He’s enjoying that shake,” Gabe said.
“Don’t know what?” Isaiah said.
Memphis flashed Gabe a You see? look.
Gabe pursed his lips and folded his arms across his chest. “Little man, you got some kind of magic ears over there?”
Isaiah grinned. “No, but I do have powers.”
“Isaiah,” Memphis warned.
“Oh, do you now? I see how it is,” Gabe teased.
“I bet I know how much money you got in your pocket,” Isaiah said, turning all the way around on his bar stool.
“Isaiah, Gabe doesn’t have time for your games now,” Memphis said sharply. “Eat your food.”
Isaiah’s eyes narrowed. Memphis knew that look well enough to know that trouble generally followed it.
“You got a five, a one, and two quarters. And a address for a lady named Cymbelline.”
Gabe emptied his pocket. His eyebrows shot up. “How’d you know that?”
“Told you! I got the gift. I can prophecy, too.”
“He can’t do any such thing. Isaiah, quit telling stories,” Memphis said, flashing his brother another warning look.
“I can say whatever I want,” Isaiah snapped back.
“He can say whatever he wants,” Gabe said, grinning. “Tell me something else, little man.”
“I can see people’s futures sometimes.”
“Isaiah. Quit it now. We’ve got to get home, anyway—”
“Hold on, now, brother. Boy’s about to tell me my future. Maybe he knows something about the recording. So tell me, Isaiah, am I going to be Okeh Records’ newest star?”
“I gotta be touching something of yours.”
“Mr. Reggie! Excuse me, Mr. Reggie!” Memphis said quickly. “What do we owe you?”
“Hold on a minute, Memphis,” Mr. Reggie called. He carried two plates of food in his hands.
“Tell me,” Gabe whispered, extending his hand. Isaiah took it in his own and concentrated. After a long moment, he dropped Gabe’s hand very fast and backed away, his eyes big.
“What did you see? Don’t tell me—is she ugly?” Gabe joked.
“I didn’t see nothing,” Isaiah answered, and Memphis didn’t even correct him. He looked up at Memphis with very big eyes, and Memphis knew that whatever Isaiah had seen, it had spooked him.
