Die Upon a Kiss
“remarked Rose, gravely stirring the fist-sized clot of rice provided into the rest of the gumbo that had been brought to their table at the Buttonhole Café, “I shudder to contemplate what she’d say if she knew I’d been hired to put together pyrotechnics for Mr. Davis’s production of La Muette de Portici on the thirty-first.”As the landlady had not torn Rose’s note into thumb-nail-size fragments and dropped them into the privy— something she had done often enough in the past for Rose to be resigned about it—but had merely ripped it several times neatly across and added it to the box of old newspapers left there for the convenience of the occupants, January had been able to meet Rose without trouble. The Buttonhole was a small establishment on Rue St. Anne that catered to free colored musicians and artisans, and served up in its tiny plank-walled front parlor the best gumbo and jambalaya in town. Cora Chouteau, who owned the place, further enlivened the room by pasting up every playbill... she could lay hands on—advertisements for both Caldwell’s and Davis’s rival productions of La Muette smeared the wall behind Rose’s head.“Caldwell may have bought up all the red silk and ready-made fireworks in town,”MoreLess
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