June 28, 1925, was a warm summer night in New York City. Elizabeth Sanders was hurriedly walking on the sidewalk of the fancy, richer part of town. She was invited to her friend's house.
Every time she walked down those sidewalks to Jean's house, she was in awe. She never expected to be walking down them. Hell, she never expected being friends with a person of the richer class.
Elizabeth met Jean when both were working as secretaries in a famous book publishing building. Elizabeth worked there out of necessary. Jean worked there because she was bored during the day time hours. Surprisingly, both girls hit it off, considering the huge difference of their social classes. Even when Jean quit because of boredom, "I need more excitement," she had said, the two girls stayed friends.
Jean would always invite Elizabeth to her house. Jean would doll her and herself up. She would even let Elizabeth borrow and have clothes that didn't fit her or were out of style. They would then go out to a Juice-joint or jazz club.
Elizabeth Sanders wasn't of the poor class, but yet she wasn't of the middle class either. She was between them. She went from job to job and lived on the poorer side of the city.
She rang the doorbell when she reached Jean's door. The door opened a few seconds later, followed by a squeal of delight.
"Beth, darling," said Jean as she hugged her friend. "What took you so long?"
"The boss made me stay late," Elizabeth said as Jean was ushering her in.
The door entryway was wood flooring and a chandelier hung from the ceiling. The entryway had three doorways that led to the dining room, kitchen, and living room. A stairway close to the door led to the second level of the house.
"Jean," said Elizabeth when she took in her appearance. Her blonde hair was waved to perfection, her face was made and her flapper dress was already on. "You're already done getting ready."
"Of course I am, silly," she said. "I had to do something while waiting for you. Besides, it'll be much quicker to get you ready, since I am done." She grabbed Elizabeth's hand and started dragging her up the stairs. "The quicker you're done, the quicker well be having a blast."
Elizabeth laughed at her friend, amused by her attitude. "Life's one big party," Jean had once said to her. She wished her life was like Jean's. She would never have to worry about money, food, or living arrangements. She could just party and have fun. But at least for a whole night, once or twice a week, she was able to be like that.
The upstairs level consisted of three rooms, not including the bathroom. The master bedroom was Jean's. One room was a guest room and the other was Jean's studio, which they entered.
The studio room was like a huge closet, filled with different clothing and shoes. A huge cedar vanity graced one side of the room, over flowing with make-up. Then there were three tall mirrors. One mirror was in the middle and one was on each side of it, so you could see either side of yourself in the mirrors.
When Elizabeth first went to Jean's house, seeing all that she had, she thought Jean was married to a rich guy. Pretty quickly she found out that it was all thanks to daddy's money. At times she found herself envying her, but then she would hate herself for it. She knew that all good things come to an end.
"Hmm….," Jean said as she was looking through her different racks of dresses. "What should you wear?"
Elizabeth sat down on the vanity chair. "Clothes."
Jean ignored her comment and continued looking. A few minutes later, she squealed in delight. "I've found the perfect dress for you." She showed Elizabeth the dress. It was a turquoise color with a low bust line and when a little bit passed the knees. "It matches your eyes."
She raised her eyebrow in speculation. "It does not." Her eyes were two different colors. The right eye was blue and the left was a hazel color.
"It also goes well with your pale skin."
Elizabeth sighed as she took the dress Jean handed her. She got off the chair and went to change behind a screen. When she was finished, she stepped out from behind it.
Jean clapped her hands together. "You look wonderful, darling."
"Horsefeathers," Elizabeth said.
She sat back down on the chair she occupied earlier and Jean came up behind her. She grabbed a comb and started brushing her hair.
"I'd wish you'd cut your hair," Jean said. "Bobbed hair is the fashion nowadays."
"I don't pay that much attention to fashion these days," Elizabeth replied. She had this conversation more than once with Jean already. "I like how it is."
Her hair was black and went down to the middle of her black. Her bangs almost fell into her eyes. She had no problem with her hair. It could easily be curled or straightened and stay like that for days. And if her hair did bother her, she could always put it in a bun or pony-tail.
"What should I do with it?" Jean asked.
"Whatever you want."
"Oh really now."
Elizabeth laughed at the devious look on her friend's face. "You know what I mean."
An hour later, Jean finished curling her hair and applying make-up to Elizabeth. "You look stunning."
"Thanks," Elizabeth replied. "You look even more stunning." And to her, that was true.
Jean smiled and looked at the clock on the wall. It was nine p.m. "Let's go."
Jean put on a black jacket over her dress. She then handed Elizabeth a dark green one. The jacket was warm and hardly went past her knees. Both women went down the stairs.
"Where are we going?" asked Elizabeth.
"Jazz club," Jean answered.
"How are we getting there?"
The door bell chimed throughout the house. "That's how."
Jean opened the door and a man walked in. He looked to be around their ages-twenty three. He had short brown hair gelled back and bright blue eyes. He looked very gentlemanly. Jean introduced him as Jordan Henderson, her current beau.
When they finished with the introductions, they all piled into Jordan's Ford. Elizabeth sat in the backseat and Jean sat next to her boyfriend on the passenger side. Idle conversation about the day and news filled the twenty minute ride to the jazz club.
A line filled with waiting people were along the building. Jazz music could be heard from the inside.
"We should have come earlier," Elizabeth said, dreading staying outside in the humid weather.
"Not to worry, Beth dear," said Jean. "Jordan is the manager's son. We can go in and for free."
Jean linked her arm with Jordan's and then linked her other arm with Elizabeth. Together, they walked into the jazz club, anticipating a fun night filled with ricky ticky, dancing, and booze.