INTERIOR – CHICAGO NIGHTCLUB – NIGHT
Dessi sits backstage in a tiny dressing room with a mirror hung on the wall, waiting to go on. She holds a letter from Tilda.
VOICEOVER OF TILDA READING LETTER:
Hey, Dessi! How is the road treating you? I hope Cal and the band are taking care of my girl. Thank you for the money you sent. It feels good not to worry about making rent, but I miss you, baby Bama. I can’t wait for you to come home so I can hear about all your adventures. Everybody at the Savoy sends their best. Mr. Buchanan says to tell you he’s holding your spot if this singing thing don’t work out! But I know it will. I’ll see you when you get home. I’m saving all my kisses for you.
Love, Tilda
Someone knocks at the dressing room door.
DESSI
Come on in.
Door opens. Cal walks in, a worried expression on his face.
DESSI
You look like somebody killed your dog, and I know you ain’t got no dog, so what’s wrong?
CAL
It’s a mess out there. The city’s just coming out of those riots, and all them white folks are tight as a bow. Got management worried.
CAL
They’re afraid the light’ll hit you just right and the audience might think you’re a white girl onstage with a bunch of Negroes.
Cal pulls a small tin out of his pocket.
CAL
They . . . uh, got this grease paint for you to wear.
DESSI
The hell I am, Cal. I ain’t singing in no black face.
DESSI
But I’m the only one gotta wear it! Not you. Not them.
DESSI
Cal, no. If we play down South, I’m pissing in cups and shitting in the woods. Eating on busses. And up here, this?
CAL
It’s all America, Dess.
DESSI
Well, I’m good and damn tired of it.
Dessi wipes away a tear and nods. Cal squats down in front of her and gently smears on the grease paint.
CLOSE SHOT ON DESSI
She stares at her darkened face in the mirror before standing and following Cal out.
INTERIOR – THEATER STAGE
Spotlight on the band and Dessi, who sings an upbeat song in the dark makeup, forcing herself to smile.
