by Liv Rancourt
You better ask God to forgive your sins, Mister.
“What do you need, Miss Clara?” Coming out of the dark, his voice sent my heart racing.
“I ...” I stopped to clear my throat. “I thought I’d listen for a bit.” Taking another step into the room, I gestured towards the radio.
“Is everything all right?”
“Well sure.” Peachy keen. “Leo’s helping Vaughn out.” I hope that’s all he’s doing. I fiddled with the fabric of my skirt, using another worry to avoid talking about Vaughn. “I really should be getting to work.” Sure, I’d promised Leo to stay, but I hadn’t bargained on shaving.
He rose from the chair in a whine of old leather and strode towards me. “I have spoken with your boss, Dominic, and your position is safe until you return.” He met my gaze for only a second, maybe two, and for some reason I believed him. “You will be compensated for the time you spend caring for Vaughn. She ... likes you.”
Those words, she likes you, in that commanding baritone, set off a surge in the warm feelings I had for Vaughn. Putting things in terms of money rankled, but I let it go. “Okay.”
“Certainly.” He followed his comment with another penetrating glance. I all but heard the words trust me in my head. Burns and Allen yammered on in the empty living room, and I yielded so he could pass me by.
After the radio show, I went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, still avoiding Vaughn’s room. The kitchen was bright and modern with swanky white appliances and a gray and white checkerboard floor. Not what I’d expected for a couple of single men. The coffeepot was new, too, a shiny chrome thing. I filled the basket with grounds from the can, poured water to the line, and set the whole thing on the stove.
Waiting for the water to boil, I leaned against the radiator, letting my mind wander. Darned if it didn’t want to go to the boss’s office, right back to the time when Vaughn made me feel so good. I liked more than her kisses. Working as a hat check girl would have been a lot harder without Vaughn there making me laugh. The stalemate between my darker feelings and Vaughn’s smile might not have broken, but it shifted.
Water bubbled into the glass nob on the coffee pot’s lid, clear at first, then dark brown. I took it off the boil, turned the burner off, and poured myself a cup. It wouldn’t help me sleep, but Leo and Mr. Dupont stayed awake all night anyway. On a whim, I poured a second cup and carried it upstairs.
On my way past the parlor, voices stopped me. Not radio voices this time. Leo and Mr. Dupont. “Please, Thaddeus.” Leo sounded desperate, and despite myself I took a look through the open door.
Mr. Dupont held Leo tight, his face buried in Leo’s neck. For his part, Leo’s hands tangled in the other man’s dark brown hair. I’d never seen anything like the expression on Leo’s face, his mouth twisted, his brows drawn together with the kind of ecstasy the Bible says the saints will show when they see the Lord.
I ran on upstairs, pretty sure there was nothing holy in two men kissing.
“Here.” I burst into Vaughn’s room and thrust the coffee mug at her. “Since your friends live like Dracula, I made some coffee so we can too.”
“What?” Vaughn still lay propped on pillows, all the shaving gear put away. She clutched a white handkerchief and stared at me, her eyes round.
Since she didn’t reach for the mug, I set it on her bedside table. Her nervousness made me want to comfort her. “Leo and Mr. Dupont. They have their days and nights turned around.” I put a helping of reassurance in my smile.
“I never thought about it.” Vaughn reached for the coffee and took a sip. “This is good. Thank you.”
I dragged the cream velvet chair over to her bed and perched on the edge. “I wanted to go to work, but Mr. Dupont said he’d talked to the boss.” I fluffed out my skirt so it didn’t stick to my thighs. I was sweaty, more from nerves than the humid evening. “And to be honest, part of me is scared to go back to the nightclub without you there.”
“Clara.” She reached out like she’d grab my hand but stopped herself. “I do appreciate all your help. Some women, well, most women would have told me to go to hell.”
My heart turned over at the sadness in her voice. Something banged downstairs, and I bit my lip, trying hard not to imagine the cause. “You know, I guess you’re right about that.” The preacher would say we were all damned anyway, but I couldn’t help believing there might be an answer for her. I pondered things, sending up a prayer of my own.
The right words came, guided by the Lord even though we were in the farthest place from a revival meeting. “In the Bible,” I said, “when the priests asked Jesus if they should throw stones at a prostitute, he said they’d have to find someone who hadn’t sinned to throw the first stone.” Relief softened my twisted belly, and I shrugged, unable to hide my grin.
She took another sip of coffee, the edges of her lips quirking up. I hadn’t seen her smile since we climbed onto that Canal Street streetcar, and the trickle of relief turned into a flood.
“Kissing you was a sin, I reckon, and so is staying here with whatever your friends are doing.” I held my own coffee mug, enjoying the fragrant steam. “But I’ve never been one to throw many stones.”
She set her mug on the nightstand and pressed her handkerchief to her lips. “Thank you.”
I let her gratitude settle into me, happy to have my Vaughn back. Her face still bore bruises from the attack, and scabs crusted the swollen cut on her lip. Her eyes were clear, though, and for the first time in days, she smiled.
Chapter 10
We fell into the habit of staying awake half the night and sleeping till past noon. Along the way, I learned to respect the Vaughn who never once complained, who swallowed the pain and carried on while her body healed.
One morning, the house was quiet except for the occasional step of a maid moving around downstairs. I smoothed the blankets over my little cot and watched Vaughn sleep.
When I took the time to really look, I could see things I never noticed before. How her Adam’s apple stood out more without a floating scarf around her neck. How the daylight showed the faintest roughness over her chin. How the muscles in her upper arms looked odd sticking out of her lacy pajama top, especially with the brassiere she insisted on wearing.
Awake, she was as ladylike as you please. When sleep trapped her, though, I could see the differences. I nibbled at a snagged fingernail. I had an easier time if I didn’t think too much about her secret. I’d come to Sodom to see the world, and I guess I was learning some things.
I was still staring when she awoke. She squinted at me from her nest of linen and lace. “What’s wrong, Clara?”
“Nothing.” I tried to cover my sheepishness with a smile. “Thinking.”
She gave me a mock scowl, still blinking away the sleep. “Be careful. Don’t go wacky on me.”
With a snort, I smoothed the woven coverlet over the cot. From the slant of the light through the tall windows, I guessed it was midafternoon. “We should get you cleaned up some.” I kept my tone brisk because I didn’t want her to know I’d been drooling over her like a love-sick calf.
“A bath would be nice.”
The poor girl hadn’t bathed since before she got beat up. The cut on her lip was healing, as were the scrapes I could see. “Your thigh’s going to sting if you put it in the water.” The one on her chest would, too. We still had them covered with gauze bandages, though they’d scabbed over pretty well. Probably should have had a doc stitch the wound on her thigh since I was too chicken to do it myself. She’d have a scar, but at least she’d survived.
Alive and, with the smile hovering on the edges of her lips, as beautiful as ever. Her hair needed a good brush-out, and the bruises on her face had faded to weird olives and yellows. Make-up would cover them. Too late, I realized I was staring, but she looked right back at me. Her eyes held a question, and I blushed because I wasn’t sure I had an answer.
We agreed on a sponge bath, and I barely had to help her ge
t out of bed. On the way to the bathroom, I kept a hand on her shoulder, enjoying the feel of her. “Now, do you need my help in there?”
Her soft laugh teased me. “I think I’ll be okay.”
“Do you need me to bring you anything?” She’d had the same underthings on for a couple days at least.
“Well...” Her smile shifted to something much more determined. “I’d like a girdle, some drawers, and a pair of my muslin scanties.”
I knew exactly what she meant. We stared at each other for another long minute, and this time her eyes posed a question more directly. I’d seen most all of her. Now what would I do?
“You go on and get started. I’ll be back in a flash.” I ducked away before she could say anything else.
The top drawer of her dresser held neat rows of silk and lace and one small pile of her special underpants. I picked out everything she’d need. Everything. A waist cincher with a bra top and silk drawers and those underpants made of plain white muslin. They were handmade, and I couldn’t help examining the seams. Not awful, but I could have done better.
By the time I returned, she was humming a little tune over the splash of water from the faucet. I tapped on the door and left her things in a pile in the hall.
While she took care of herself, I went to the kitchen to scrounge some breakfast. The maid, an older, colored woman named Mayette, had baked muffins. She would not allow me to make coffee, insisting she’d bring me a tray and I should go on upstairs. As usual, I couldn’t tell which felt stranger, having a maid make my breakfast or getting the high hat from her over it.
In the end, I snuck out the kitchen door and sat in the garden for a few minutes to give Vaughn time to dress. After almost a week of being cooped up inside, the fresh air and the smell of magnolias were sweeter than any perfume. Momma would have called me a bum for sitting still in the middle of the day, but the sun’s kiss felt good.
And who knew if I’d ever see Momma again. How could I go home after all this?
I guessed at how long Vaughn needed to dress, giving her time before I went upstairs. I found her sitting at her vanity table, pots of make-up spread out across the glass top. Her cheeks had color, her eyes were bright, and a tiny bit of tissue stuck to a nick along her jaw.
She smiled at me in the mirror, pinning me in place so long it brought heat to my cheeks. I still hadn’t found anything to say when Mayette knocked on the door with our breakfast. The maid had a steely way of staring at me, as if she were withholding judgement on whether I deserved to be in the house. I guess she probably held everyone’s secrets, and maybe she was right. Maybe I didn’t measure up.
Mayette left, and Vaughn kept on with her make-up. She spread the tinted lotion over her cheeks, defiantly covering the evidence of last week’s attack. I brought her a cup of coffee and took a seat on the edge of the cot where I had a good view of her proceedings. Contour and shadow. Tweezers to neaten the line of her brows. She pursed her lips, shifting her mouth from side to side, like that would somehow help her draw straighter lines along the tops of her eyelids.
So personal. So intimate. I sipped at my coffee, wondering why she didn’t send me away.
She tipped her head, opening her mouth in a soft ‘O’ to line her lips. She winced as if something in the movement hurt her. Setting aside my mug, I rose to stand behind her and rested my hands on her shoulders.
“Can I help?”
Her gaze in the mirror turned puzzled. I gave her shoulders a rub, pressing gently with my thumbs, and she sighed. “Thank you.”
I thought about teasing her by telling her she had to keep her hands in her lap, the way she’d done with me that night in the boss’s office, but we hadn’t come that far yet. Instead, I reached for her brush and gathered her auburn waves in my other hand. “So soft,” I murmured, and she smiled in response, a lazy smile, the kind that heated my blood in unexpected ways.
I brushed her shoulder-length hair, long strokes from her forehead until the bristles prickled her silk dressing gown. She shut her eyes, her head rocking in response to the movement of my hand. Her warm, floral scent enticed me, and I relaxed in the warmth of her presence. Her silky hair ran through my fingers, and by habit I kept count of my strokes, even though I meant to sooth rather than get through a daily chore.
I tugged on a snarl and made her wince. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right.”
More of her weight rested against me, and I gave in to the desire that had been sneaking around the corners of my mind. I bent over and pressed a kiss to her temple.
She gasped and jerked away, her face full of surprise and fear and other emotions I couldn’t recognize. Shocked at my own action and embarrassed at having upset her, I fled to the safety of my cot. “I’m so sorry.”
She stared at me through the mirror, her green eyes expressionless. She might have had something to say, but before she could respond, I darted from the room. I didn’t stop till I reached the garden, feeling a fool.
Somehow I’d lost track of where sin began and where it ended.
Chapter 11
I stayed outside till the sun set and the wrought iron chair had left permanent marks on my behind. When I went inside, Mayette and Mr. Dupont were having a discussion in the kitchen. Both of them stopped talking and watched me walk past with such seriousness I wondered if Vaughn had asked them to send me away. She didn’t really need me anyway. I should probably pack my things and go.
Unfortunately, my things were in Vaughn’s room, and her door was closed. Leo’s voice slipped out from the cracks. Something about his tone sat wrong, so I pushed in without knocking.
Vaughn stood in front of one of the big windows with Leo close behind her. She had ahold of one of his wrists so tight the skin had turned white, which told me he had his hands in places they ought not to be.
“Come on, doll.” He rubbed his hips against her bottom. “I know something that’ll make you feel better.”
“Stop it,” she said, her voice higher-pitched than normal. I flung the door shut with a loud bang, making them both jump.
“You get away from her.” I poured all my confusion and frustration into a scream.
Leo took a big step away from her. “It’s all right, little wild cat. We were just bumping gums.”
“Looked like bumping something else to me.” I pointed at the door, expecting him to obey me the way one of my little brothers would. “Now go.”
“Leo? Come here please.” Mr. Dupont’s voice carried from across the hall.
“Ah well.” Leo waved a hand airily. “Time for breakfast on the hoof.” He sauntered past, patting my cheek on the way by. Fool. I had to lock my jaw to keep from biting his finger.
Vaughn hadn’t moved except to wrap her arms across her belly. She still wore her silk dressing gown, though with her perfect make-up she resembled the women I’d met at the nightclub. “You didn’t...” She filled in the silence with a wry smile.
“He was getting fresh.” Embarrassment choked me off. I might not have liked what I saw, but my try at comforting her had ended on opposite sides of a new divide. Maybe now that I knew her secret, her interests ran in different directions.
Again we held each other’s gaze for longer than was polite until she sighed and held out her hand. “Come here, Clara.”
We held hands and sat on the bed. I fiddled with the little tufts of cotton on the bedspread, keeping my eyes on the calico print covering my knees, while Vaughn stared at the floor. Then she took a surer grip on my hand, lacing our fingers together.
“I doubt you’ll believe me, but Leo meant to cheer me up.”
My snort proved she’d guessed right.
“He really did.” She rubbed her thumb over the back of my hand. “See, a long time ago, Leo and I went to school together over at St. Patrick’s. Neither of us fit in very well, though I guess you could say it was for different reasons.”
The edge in her voice made me think I wouldn’t like what she had to say next, b
ut the rhythmic rub of her thumb on my skin kept me calm.
“We promised each other that as soon as we could, we’d run away.” She smiled fondly. “Stupid kids. We did, too. Made it as far as the Quarter, but we had no money and couldn’t get work, so it didn’t take long for us to find our way to an establishment where young men who were willing to entertain other men could make a living.”
I gave a little gasp of sadness, but she squeezed my hand and kept on talking. “Leo, he didn’t mind so much because he always preferred the company of men.” Her voice got rough. “But me? I didn’t fit in my own skin, and after a while it didn’t matter who did what to me.”
Tears filled the corners of my eyes. “Vaughn?”
She shrugged. “It kept a roof over our heads and food in our bellies.” She paused and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her eyes. “Pretty soon, Leo met Mr. Dupont, and you know how some men can get dizzy with a dame? Well, Thaddeus Dupont went dizzy over Leo. He offered to let him live here, but Leo wouldn’t come without me.”
“Oh.” I choked on my surprise. “I never would have guessed.” Leo hadn’t struck me as the loyal type. “And that man who beat you?”
“Ugly Angus.” The tip of her tongue touched the healing cut on her lip. “He knew us when we were young, and ... well, years ago, Leo gave him that scar as a reminder to show respect. Now Angus is just a man who’s too stupid to know the past should stay there.” She let our hands rest on my thigh. “When we moved in here, Mr. Dupont gave us some spending money, and I bought my first dress.” She leaned her head against my shoulder. “I don’t feel right any other way.”
The evening breeze ruffled the curtains, carrying the honeyed scent of sweet alyssum. I supposed the need to dress like a woman must be similar to falling in love with my best friend. I never went looking for it, but I couldn’t have stopped if I’d wanted to. “Do you ever want to put on a pair of trousers?”
