It Was Only Ever You by Kate Kerrigan Page B

were buying a lot more. Music lovers were still packing the dance halls and they were still listening to music on the radio, but now, nearly every home in the country had a record player. This was not simply the ‘music business’ any more, it was now the ‘recording industry’. There was money to be made and, when it came to money, New Yorkers didn’t hang around. The club owners, the managers, the music producers and the record companies were all in cahoots with each other. It was one big boys’ club. There was a party happening and Sheila was not invited. Making money was a serious business and she knew that being a woman meant she would never be taken seriously. She began to see that while she had partied behind the scenes in the jazz and R&B clubs over the years, she had never actually worked in them. She was, after all, little more than a fan. A groupie. If she had left the Twilight all those years ago, when her instincts told her to, when she had first heard Bill Haley, she could have walked into any club and put together her own rock and roll band. But she hadn’t had the guts.
    But Sheila was determined. For as long as her savings would carry her, she followed every lead, rooted out every possibility. She kept going to the clubs looking for her star. However, as one week turned to two, and three weeks turned to four, she saw a pattern emerge. It seemed that the more she pushed her friends in the music industry, the more the musicians pulled back from her until, politely, backstage became off limits. Nothing was openly said, but it became clear to her that behind the scenes was not an area open to Sheila any more. Curtains began to be drawn, special areas were cordoned off for ‘friends’ and ‘record executives’. All her old friends were suddenly busy, running off to the next gig as soon as she walked in the door. After trailing around her favourite haunts trying to charm a break out of somebody, Sheila became not only disheartened, but puzzled.
    Was she imagining it or was there something else going on?
    She cornered Frankie again, this time waiting for him in the diner across the road until she saw him heading into the Cotton Club. He saw her coming and rushed towards the alley and the kitchen door, but she headed him off on the corner.
    ‘What is going on, Frankie?’ she said.
    ‘Nothing, honey,’ he said, but his voice was flat and he looked, Sheila was surprised to note, frightened.
    ‘Why is everybody avoiding me? Is there something flying about that I don’t know about?’
    Everybody knew everybody in New York City. Manhattan was an island, the music industry was a family. When you were flying high it was like being at the best party in the world. When things were bad, it could get very small. Sheila could see in Frankie’s face that something bad was going on.
    Frankie looked behind her to check if they were being seen talking together. There was only one reason people in New York looked around the streets like that. Suddenly, it hit her. Angela – Dan’s wife. Angela McAndrew – formerly Angela Balducci of the notorious Mafia clan.
    Frankie shook his head. ‘I know you didn’t mean no harm by it, honey, I know you don’t like trouble. But they are bad men, Sheila – you know who I’m talking about?’
    Sheila nodded. ‘I know who you’re talking about.’
    Frankie put his arm on her shoulder and said, ‘Sweetheart, they are saying some bad things about you right now.’ She looked up into his old face, his eyes were kind and rheumy with sadness. His pity was so gentle, paternal almost, that it didn’t offend her. She felt like crying. Like she might collapse into his great coat and stay there for a while.
    ‘It’s not just the Balducci brothers neither. They got some Irish mob in their pocket, too. Guy called Joe Higgins been sniffing around asking questions. He owns a small club in Hell’s Kitchen but he’s trying to work himself up into the big time and looking for the