Half of Paradise Read Online Free

wanted to write a song. It would contain all the things he felt inside him. It would have the sadness he saw in the country around him, the feeling of the niggers singing in the fields, it would be like the songs they sang on the work gangs and in the Salvation Army camps, or like sitting on the back porch alone, watching the rain fall on the young cotton.
    He went down the hall to bathe and dress. At six o’clock he left the hotel and walked to the city auditorium where the contest was being held. The stores had closed and there were few people on the street. He passed the movie house and saw the man with the amputated legs on his wood platform off to one side of the entrance holding his hat and pencils in his hand. The beggar smelled of wine and dried sweat. The buttons of his shirt were gone and his bony chest showed. The theater manager asked him to move farther down the street; he was in the way of the people who wanted to go to the show.
    J.P. went to the back door of the auditorium and gave the doorman his card. It was crowded back stage. He saw Hunnicut and Troy talking in the wings.
    “Evening,” he said.
    “Hi boy, how’s it going?” Hunnicut said, then shouted at one of the prop men, “You got the lights out of place—over there, no, I said over there.” He turned back to J.P. and Troy. “I got to do everybody’s job for them. Go show him where to put the lights, Troy. I should fire the whole goddamn crew of them.”
    “Where am I supposed to go?” J.P. said.
    “Let’s get you another suit of clothes first.”
    “My suit don’t have nothing to do with playing guitar.”
    “Hey, Seth, get over here.”
    Seth was talking with a short, well-formed brunette.
    “Take him into Troy’s dressing room and find him some clothes,” Hunnicut said.
    “You sure Troy don’t mind?”
    “To hell with Troy. Get Winfield a suit that don’t look like a piece of canvas.”
    They walked behind the sets to the dressing room. Seth took a gray sports suit from the closet and laid it over the chair. The pockmarks in his face showed more deeply in the artificial light of the room. He took a pint bottle out of his coat pocket and unscrewed the cap. He drank out of the bottle while J.P. dressed.
    “You want a shot?” he said.
    “Thanks. You reckon I got a chance tonight?”
    “You’ll be all right.”
    “I spent my last few dollars to come to town.”
    “Virdo will give you a job. You’re real good on a twelve-string.”
    “Who’s Virdo?” J.P. said.
    “It’s Hunnicut’s first name, but he don’t like nobody to call him by it.”
    “Is that girl you were with in the show?”
    “Yeah. She sings some. Mostly she’s out there to give the farmers something to look at. I never could get no place with her. She gives it to Troy pretty steady. He can have it, though. She’s on the powder. Mainline stuff.”
    “You know some girls around town?”
    “Just whores.”
    “I’m busted.”
    “Get Hunnicut to give you an advance after the show and I’ll take you to a place.”
    “I ain’t got the job yet.”
    “You ain’t seen the other people that’s going to be out there. There’s one fellow that beats on a washboard while he plays the harmonica. You ain’t got to worry about the job.”
    They left the dressing room and went back to stand in the wings. Troy was onstage with the band, waiting for the curtain to open. Seth smoked a cigarette, then went onstage and picked up his banjo and adjusted the microphone. He smiled out at the crowd as the curtain opened.
    “A great big howdy, friends and neighbors,” he said. “This is Seth Milton. Tonight we’re going to have some of your favorite artists from the field of country and western music, along with some of the best in local talent. The contest is going to start directly, but first me and the boys is going to pick and sing some of your favorite tunes. This show is being put on by Mr. V. L. Hunnicut of the Louisiana Jubilee, who has encouraged so