Chapter Two #2
Mazelle nodded, already smiling. The colored man with the slate darted out of the way.
“Then… action!” Mr. Norman said.
Action sounded like she was supposed to start moving. Scout lowered his front paws and dipped his head while she curtsied beside him.
“How’s that damn dog know what ‘action’ means?” someone muttered from behind the bright lights. Mazelle ignored the cursing, but she saw Mother shoot him a scolding look.
Mazelle hummed “Sweet Georgia Brown” under her breath to keep a beat.
She might have been a tiny bit nervous, because she moved in the wrong direction, but Scout knew which way she would move before she did.
Their performance in front of the camera was their finest yet, with perfectly timed twirls, their waltzing even more intricate and expressive as they dipped—
“Get back to the mark,” Mr. Norman said, a bit sharply. “You’re almost out of frame.”
—and culminating with Scout taking his bow beside her still standing on two legs. Mazelle held one of his paws to help him keep his balance as he bowed like a human. Scout raised one paw to his head as if he were tipping an invisible cap.
The applause erupted, loud. Half a dozen more people were in the studio now. Mazelle couldn’t make out everything they said in their enthusiasm, talking over each other.
“That’s a heck of an act you’ve got,” Mr. Norman said to Mother and Daddy. “A heck of a dog! Did you train him yourselves?”
“You could say that,” Daddy said.
Mazelle noticed that Mr. Norman looked troubled. He was perspiring under the hot lights, flicking sweat from his face with one hand.
“What do you think of our prospects, Mr. Norman?” Mother asked.
Mr. Norman sighed. He cast a smile toward Mazelle, but it had faded by the time he addressed Mother and Daddy. “You want me to be honest?”
“Always,” Mother said. Her family huddled closer to him.
“The first thing is… someone’s gonna try to buy your dog.
This is bigger than vaudeville or a kid act.
They’ll want to pair the dog up some other kind of way, maybe with someone like a Marion Davies.
A big star.” He lowered his voice, but Mazelle still heard him.
“A white star. Hate to put it that way, but I’m telling you how they think. ”
“He only listens to me,” Mazelle said.
Mr. Norman looked like he doubted her, but Mother said, “It’s true. When he’s not with Mazelle… he won’t do a thing. What you just saw only happens when they’re together. No commands. No rewards. He mimics her. Scout won’t perform with anyone else.”
Mr. Norman considered that, although Mazelle still didn’t think he believed her.
“If I could, I’d whip up a showcase for her myself.
But like I said, I’m tied up on a picture.
I was trying to work it out with Bessie Coleman to do her life story, may she rest in peace…
” Mazelle recognized the name: Bessie Coleman had been the world’s only colored woman pilot whose plane had crashed in Florida a couple months before.
Mother had cried when she shared the news with them at dinner.
“… And since I had my heart set on it, I’m doing another aviation project.
We’ve put everything we have into it, and God willing we’ll be shooting next week.
Mazy will be older by the time we release it and come back from the road, and I don’t think you should wait. She’s just the right age now.”
“If you can point us the right way…” Daddy said.
“I’ll do better than that,” Mr. Norman said.
“I’ll see how the film comes out, and I have a man in mind to send it to.
Young fella named Jerry Lorenzo. He’s dying to find some colored kids for his new project.
Between us, he wants to copy Roach with Our Gang—but don’t tell him I said so.
One thing you should know: He’ll be shooting out in California.
Most of the studios have moved out there.
So ask yourselves if you’re willing to move. ”
Daddy and Mother looked at each other to search out their opinions. Dottie and Doris stirred with excitement, but Brother lost his grin so fast it was like Mr. Norman had kicked him—probably thinking about his sweetheart.
“We don’t need to figure it out now,” Daddy said, more to Mother than to Mr. Norman. “Not ’til we hear what Mr. Lorenzo says.”
“You’ll hear right away,” Mr. Norman said. “Bank on it. He’ll want to hire Mazy. He’ll go crazy when he sees her and that dog.”
Scout barked, jumping up to Mazelle as if they were waltzing again, his tail wagging. Mazelle danced in a circle with him, happy enough to float into the sky. For the first time, she didn’t notice Scout’s swamp smell.
“You don’t look too pleased about that, Mr. Norman,” Mother said. “I hate to sound too bold, but I’m a mother first. Are you sorry to miss out… or is it something else?”
Mr. Norman considered saying more—his lips moved apart—but he decided against it. Instead, he leaned over to talk to Mazelle like a child again instead of bossing her like a director. “How would you like to go see the airplane I built for my picture?”
As soon as he was back outside, Scout raced away to the cattle fence behind the studio, which had slats a dog could slip through. Beyond the fence lay the piney woods.