Page 5 of Mazywood

“Just a thought,” Mr. Norman said. “The picture I’m prepping isn’t suited—”

“Both of my older girls are wonderful actresses,” Mother said.

Mr. Norman’s smile thinned as he glanced at Doris and Dottie, who stood at their full height to preen for him. “They’re a bit young still. Anyway, I’ve already cast it with Lafayette Players out of New York. Husband and wife. Anyway… let’s do a proper screen test. How’s that, Mazy?” Mr. Norman said, Mother flinched at her made-up stage name. “We’ll go out to the stage and shoot a couple feet. Maybe Roach will give us a finder’s fee.”

His people chuckled, but Mazelle didn’t get the joke. Even Mother and Daddy looked confused. Whose feet were they going to shoot? And why was he talking about a cockroach?

“Hal Roach,” Brother whispered. “Those kid pictures. He wants to ‘shoot’ you on film.”

“Is it a long walk?” Mazelle said. “My shoes are too tight!” She thought she might cry if she had to walk another step. She had forgotten she should never walk in her tap shoes.

Mr. Norman and his people laughed again. She was enchanting them like a witch with a spell and she wasn’t even doing her act!

No, it was Scout, she remembered. Without Scout, it would have been just her sorry tap dancing, and Daddy would never have taken a day off from work to drive them here. She ruffled Scout behind his ears the way he liked, to say thank you.

“Don’t worry,” Daddy said. “I’ll carry you, pumpkin.”

Despite everything to come, for the rest of her life Mazelle Washington would look back fondly on the day she shot her first screen test, sipping on the memory like bourbon until the day she died.

The lot was fenced off from the thicket of thin pines and scrub brush just beyond it. Florida towns were never far from the forest. Mr. Norman led them across the grounds to a wood-frame warehouse. Inside, it was cluttered with large lights on black stands, the walls bare and ugly except for several dressed stages. One dark corner had wallpaper, a bed, and a night table. A bigger set was so detailed that it looked real: fresh paint and two office desks, lamps, mail slots on the wall, and a sign that read TICKET OFFICE. The large space housed several sets without seats for an audience.

Mr. Norman walked toward a corner where a large white screen hung on one wall. A giant black contraption stood in front of the screen with wheels and three legs that made it taller than a man. Once she got closer, Mazelle saw the giant lens and realized that the beast was a camera, with two humps like a camel’s. Mr. Norman went to the camera controls, fiddling with them, adjusting the angle. His smile was gone: He was working now. One by one, workers flicked the lights on to make the screen bright, a ready stage, while Mr. Norman called out instructions to them. All this bustling for her!

Gently, Daddy let Mazelle down and pressed his hand to her cheek. The pain in Mazelle’s feet flared fresh again when she was back on the ground, but her excitement numbed her. Daddy didn’t have to say, This is everything you will ever want, because that truth radiated all around them. Daddy had a thin sheen of tears in his eyes to tell her how proud he was.

Dottie rubbed Mazelle’s shoulder with encouragement, and when Mazelle glanced up at Doris, her meanest sister smiled back at her too. Brother made a playful fist, reminding her of his promise to sock anyone who didn’t like her act.

“Forget about the camera,” Mother instructed. “Do it just like you practiced. And curtsy like a lady at the start. Let Scout do a bow.”

“Okay, stand right there,” Mr. Norman said to Mazelle, pointing to an X written in chalk on the floor between the screen and the camera. Mazelle’s shoes click-clicked, while Scout’s long toenails click-clicked beside her.

“They walk like twins,” Mr. Norman said.

Brother chuckled. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, mister.”

After Mazelle and Scout had taken their places, Mr. Norman said, “Someone grab the slate and write, ‘Little Mazy and Scout.’ M-A-Z-Y.”

By now, Mother was beaming as if she’d thought up the stage name herself.

“Every second costs money,” Mr. Norman told Mazelle. “Don’t save your best for last. Give it everything for about a minute, ninety seconds. No singing or talking. Just dancing. Stare straight into the camera lens, not at anyone else. Don’t forget to smile.”

Mazelle nodded, trying to remember it all. (But what kind of rube would forget to smile?)

A young colored man ran up in front of the camera lens with a small chalkboard with black-and-white stripes. He held it in front of the lens while Mr. Norman kept fiddling with the controls. Doris and Dottie watched the young man’s every move, whispering to each other.

Mazelle fanned out her arms. She didn’t feel nervous like she had in her backyard the first night; she just wanted to finish so she could take off her shoes.

A loud whirring came from the camera.

“Mazy? You ready?” Mr. Norman called.

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.