by Gina Kincade
Ava wore her confusion openly. “Do I dare ask? Did you rip the other one?”
Maggie smiled. “No, it’s just fine, perfect even. I’m not sure I can answer your other question.”
Ava’s eyes were wide. “You know where to find me when you figure that out. When do you want me to check for room for your cross?”
Maggie stopped running errands in her mind for a minute looking blankly at Ava. If what she had in mind was going to work, she wouldn’t.
“Let me get back to you on that. Can you finalize the seams without the final fitting since the pattern worked?”
“I’d rather not.”
Flagging her hands Maggie decided to roll with it for now. “Okay, I’ll deal with that later then. I need to run. I’ll stop by in a couple days on the boots.”
“Come back when you can stay longer...” Ava called after her as she broke through the door into the street.
Maggie stopped home. She blazed a trail through the apartment, changing into shorts and a v-neck t-shirt. She pulled some cash out of the lock box and threw it into a bag with a change of clothes and the usual’s. She backed out of her stall, popped her sunglasses on, and headed for the on ramp to I-294 west, driving into the afternoon sun that had just crossed over enough to shine in the top of the windshield.
Near Joliet she realized she hadn’t eaten. A ten minute detour through the drive-thru window had her dipping fries in a frosty between cheeseburger bites as she got back on the interstate. By late afternoon she had crossed the mighty MISS. She stopped for gas and a bouquet in town before heading to see them. Surely they already knew about the decision, but somehow Maggie felt like she needed to tell them anyway.
Mama’s dates had been added to the stone since she’d been here last. It was as it should be, but it dropped her to sit when she saw it. With that piece everything was final now. Maggie added the pale peach roses to the wildflowers already in the vase and sat along the line between where her parents were laid.
Hiking her knees up so she could rest her chin on them, she wrapped her arms around her shins and rocked on her bottom as she cried. She hadn’t planned to cry, the tears just came out. For all the times they hadn’t, this time she didn’t try to fight them. She let them fall.
She made herself remember every single time they had told her she could do anything, be anyone, over-come everything. They had never stopped believing in her, trying to find new things that might interest her, or where she might fit. Maggie knew what it meant to have faith. Her parents were the example. As she sat, she took her own leap of faith and told them everything.
Even knowing they were not there to nay-say her, she was nervous to spill it all out. Like knowing that it was all done before she arrived, she was sure that they knew all of the other pieces from wherever they were watching so she might as well out with it. She needed to grab tissues from the car when she finally got to present in her tale.
Sitting back down she picked up the thread with what she had planned, what she hoped was next, and where she thought she was headed. The tears snuck up again when she got to the part where she might not be around as often because of the distance. She went to the edge of the field and grabbed a couple wheat stalks before sticking one in the vase and one across the stone for Jacob. She didn’t say “Good bye” only “Til next time. I love you.”
She turned back as she got up, a smirk on her face as she spoke to her brother. “Don’t let Daddy get yours now you hear me?”
WITH NO ONE AROUND, she swapped her shorts for slacks and pulled a short sleeve on before heading to the casino. It was going on six. If she made good time she could catch Cynder between shows. Cynder was the only one she actually felt she needed to see, though she’d likely need to talk to the manager too.
Cynder didn’t flinch when Maggie said “Good bye.” She’d been willing to give notice until she’d caught the last couple minutes of the first show and thought about the boa she had yet to put on for the public. There were enough girls to step in; they wouldn’t miss a beat with her gone.
The manager was less than pleased but thanked her for coming in instead of just not showing up at all like so many others had. Maggie cleared her personal things from the back room and gave Cynder a hug for the road. The opportunity had been worth the crazy, but it was time to move on.
Turning the car out of the parking lot Maggie clicked on the radio. Mama had always said things happen for a reason. Maggie took it as all the cards aligning when the next song played and she turned it up to sing along. “I’m takin’ a Greyhound on the Hudson River line...”
“I don’t care if it’s Chinatown or on Riverside...’
It was late when she made it home. The blinking answering machine was four messages. The attorney had called to confirm the transfer came through and said they would have everything ready by Thursday. Jade had been by with her clothes but she wasn’t home so call when she could swing by. Thorne had left a curt, “Call me.” Lastly was Wendy.
“I got your message. I’m going to be out most of the week. Call me back or come in Friday and we’ll talk then.” The timestamp was nine-twenty.
It was now well after ten headed for eleven. Maggie stared at the handset in debate, finally grabbing it and dialing. Mama was a stickler about late calls, but as Wendy had called after nine Maggie crossed her fingers.
She answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
“Wendy it’s Mags. Is this too late? I just got in.”
“No, you’re okay. I was surprised when they said you were looking for me. What’s up?”
Maggie took a deep breath. Now or chicken.
“You said you’ll be out most of the week, are you headed to New York?”
Wendy was quiet on the other end. Her answer sounded more like a question when it came. “Yes...”
“You want company? Or can you have company? Will you I mean?”
“What are you asking me Maggie?”
Maggie laughed nervously. “I guess I’m inviting myself to New York if you have room for me.”
There was an even longer pause. “You know New York is free to come and go to. You don’t need my permission, it doesn’t belong to me.”
Maggie was floundering. “I’m botching this. I’d like to see the club in New York if you’d have time to show it to me. I thought we could travel together but I didn’t really think about if you’d already have someone going with you until we were on the phone. I’m being completely rude.”
Wendy started laughing somewhere in the middle of Maggie’s exasperation.
“You’re fine Mags. I’m six steps behind our conversation in another thought. I didn’t understand what you were asking. Give me a minute to catch up.”
Maggie was pacing, mentally kicking herself thinking she needed to slow down and nearly said so before Wendy spoke again.
“Okay Mags, here’s the deal. I’m leaving in the morning, back on Friday. Of course you are welcome to tag along, but any tour will be short. I am going for work as you are already aware. Flight’s no biggie, there’s a seat on the charter, but you’ll need a room.”
Maggie’s heart leapt. “I can do that. What hotel?”
“I only stay at The Plaza, but I’m sure we can find one not as expensive nearby if that’s a problem.”
Maggie laughed out loud relieved. “Do you have the number?”
“Gimme a minute. I’m sure I do. You can meet me at the club or the airport. Charter is out of Midway at ten. Here is is.”
Wendy rattled off the hotel phone number. Maggie jotted a couple of notes to herself to remember for once she hung up.
“Can I leave my car at the club? Will it be safe?”
“Sure. I’ll call and have the code from last night reset if you still have it. Use the same spot. Can you be there by eight?”
“Yes ma’am I do and I can.”
“And I presume you’ll tell me what this is all about?”
Maggie wanted to hold her cards close until sh
e was certain. “I promise I’ll tell you everything before we get back to Chicago.”
“Then I’ll see you in the morning. At eight-o-five I’m going without you though.”
“I’ll be there. Thank you...more than you know, thank you.”
MAGGIE HUNG UP AND dialed The Plaza. Holy crap on a cracker! She booked the three nights and nearly had heart failure at the total. There was no backing out now. Grabbing her purse, she made her second run of the day to Custom Helotry. She picked up an off the rack black tie-up and a pair of tapered leather pants. Thank god she was pretty true to size now. She was far too sweaty from the running around to try on leather. She pulled her slacks off and tossed them with a couple other things in the washer, thankful beyond measure for the small stacked unit between the fridge and the bathroom.
It was after midnight. She made a sandwich and forced herself to take a minute to stop, breathe, and chew. She mentally packed for three days and three nights as she stood at the counter. She grabbed her yet unused high school graduation present from the nearest wardrobe, a piece of jaguar luggage with a handle and wheels. Her mother’s siblings had all gone in together on it. She’d wondered if she’d ever need it then. Turns out she did now. She unzipped it and flopped it open on the bed before unzipping the inner lining. Open it looked like a garment bag complete with the u-clip for hangers. Closed and folded it just looked like a big suitcase. It was the only option besides a duffle bag.
The washer buzzed and she changed the load to the dryer. Next up she pulled the rest of her cash from her lock box debating if she should hit an ATM before the club in the morning. She had five hundred in cash.
She pulled her bank register, deducted the recent receipts and then called the bank automated line to check her balance. Everything matched within a couple dollars. No way was she going to get caught short out of state. She tucked the bank number in her wallet in case she needed to transfer funds just in case. She might have funds coming in, or already in, but this was not a call to go crazy. Estimating expenses after the hotel, she ruled out the ATM. She stashed three hundred in the pocket of the one pair of jeans she’d be taking and put the rest in her wallet.
By two the dryer was done, she’d matched up her outfits and was packed. She felt positively scummy. She took a hot shower, shaved and gave her hair a good scrub. Who knew if The Plaza had good water pressure or not? She put everything by the sectional, checked the jam lock on the slider and checked the window latches. She was ready to drop.
She set two alarms, the coffeepot and the timer on the microwave; no way was she missing this trip. As she fell into bed she picked up the thread of the Billy Joel tune, humming until the only two lines she ever remembered,
“I’m takin’ a Greyhound on the Hudson River Line. I’m in a New York state of mind.”
‘IIIII, I wanna umm umm III...’
Checking into The Plaza, even in slacks and a twinset, Maggie felt underdressed. The room was lavish. She could only imagine what one of the high end suites looked like. She and Wendy were going to meet later in the evening to see the club. She had time to kill.
She spent an hour soaking in the opulent bathtub before sinking into the complimentary plush robe and taking a nap. The last thirty-six hours had finally claimed their due. Her room didn’t face the park, so the view was city skyline. From the twelfth floor it was pretty in its own way, but still city like Chicago was. Part of her would always crave the open of Iowa though she was loath to admit it to herself.
Maggie splurged on room service. An immense marbled steak wafted up when the delivery person lifted the silver dome. She was ravenous. Her stomach howled at the smells.
An hour later, she couldn’t manage another bite. She was torn at setting the cart out with food still on it. She’d never felt so wasteful and couldn’t bring herself to do it. She put the plate of leftovers on the desk under the shiny dome and the empty cart out instead.
She was ready to go when Wendy rang, hoping she looked okay for the club and the lobby in between at the same time. They exchanged giggles to see they had matching corsets, but that was where the similarity ended. Maggie had opted for black slacks where Wendy had on a long, nearly sheer skirt. Maggie had put her hair up in the low ponytail she’d worn to The Brickhouse with Thorne. Wendy’s hair was a severe up-do. Oddly, they didn’t look strange side by side and no one spared them a glance as they walked through the large formal lobby.
Traffic made the ride seem longer than it likely took. Every inch forward cost ten minutes of sitting still, bumper to bumper, with vehicles on all sides. For as big as Chicago was, it was not this brutal to navigate.
They entered through a back door. Maggie had quietly hoped to go in the front for the full effect, but perhaps another night. Wendy took her through to the main area explaining as they walked.
“All of the properties are similar but also different. As I may have mentioned, The Rack was already here so we made a few changes but left it essentially the same, so there are differences.”
Maggie noticed several. First off, the main area felt more dance floor than anything else. There were tables, but the aisles were wide and crowded with writhing bodies. There were exceptionally few chairs. How one would manage to pull a chair out enough to even try to sit was likely a disaster waiting to happen.
The main area was also two floors tall. It was open save a wide glass walkway around the upper area. Glancing up, there was no imagination needed for what was under most of the short skirts, or rather, what wasn’t.
Maggie belatedly noticed the doors around the perimeter of the upper level as well. Wendy nodded as Maggie pointed to one.
“There is no back hallway here. Everything is up stairs, but that is different too.”
Wendy guided them to the corner stairs and up to the balcony. Where the lower level had its segments of Goth, leather, grinders and socialites, upstairs felt more exclusive and removed as though the main floor was almost a traditional club. Once upstairs, Maggie felt the more familiar vibe of The Brickhouse back halls. As she scanned the doors around the balcony, she was surprised. “There’s no pit.”
Wendy laughed openly though the sound was mostly swallowed up in the crowd below. She was nearly shouting to be heard, nodding over the rail to the main floor below. “That’s as close to a pit as there is here. There are also few open play rooms to scene.”
“What do you mean?”
Wendy pointed to a tag on a nearby door. ‘Madame Wrest.’
“The rooms are contracted out with only half a dozen or so exceptions. The current occupant designs their own scenario and books to scene exclusively in their room. Or, they can have walk ins, but I only know of one or two who do. If you like the room, you book through the ‘keeper’ at the end of the hall.” She pointed to a large male at a concierge stand at the corner of the balcony.
“So what you’re saying is...”
“There are fifty-two rooms to scene at here. Seven are set for public play like at The Brickhouse. The others are all private. Most contract for a year, some six months, some less though very few, rooms don’t stay open long.”
“But isn’t setting a room a huge undertaking for a short contract?”
Wendy shrugged. “That depends. It may just be a matter of relocating something you have, or like this one...” They looked in on a small room. The only furnishing was a single chair. “If all you’re offering is a spanking, you really don’t need much.”
Maggie was grappling with the information. “So that means you have forty-five rooms that are leased out or could be at any given time.”
“Yes.”
“And the partner wants a buyout? Wow. It seems like it would be a no brainer for the income.”
Wendy stopped, looked Maggie in the face and shook her head. “It’s not the money part Mags. It’s the temptation he needs to avoid. As a partner he has to be on property his share of the time.”
The light bulb lit.
“Ohhhh. So you’re sa
ying he doesn’t have self-control to resist.”
Wendy shook her head. “Not my assessment to make. His fiancé evidently isn’t secure in that thinking, hence the abrupt nuptials and quick buy out demand.”
Maggie tucked her thoughts away for when they would be alone. They had reached the end of the hallway and the ‘keeper’.
“Good evening Chas.”
“Wendy Darling, I wondered when I’d see you. Is it true?”
“You know it’s true. You were on the cross-country, don’t be coy. Is he here?”
“Of course he’s here. I notified him as soon as you arrived. He will see you privately at your convenience.”
Maggie watched the back and forth between them wondering which ‘him’ was being discussed.
Wendy wheeled to Maggie. “What’s your pleasure? You want to stay, look around more and have something to drink? Or, I can have the car take you around or back to the hotel. I’m afraid I need to handle something sooner than later.”
It did not escape Maggie’s notice that Wendy had not made introductions or called her by name.
“I think I’ll take the car if you can spare it. You can find me later.”
Wendy turned back to Chas. “Please let him know I’ll be with him shortly.”
“Very well.”
Wendy squired her arm through Maggie’s elbow and escorted her to a hallway beyond where Chas stood and a stairway down waiting until they were alone.
“We’ll come back before we return to Chicago, I promise. I need to see the other junior partner as soon as possible and get some information. I don’t mean to ditch you when we really just arrived.”
“Pfft. Ditch away. I know why you’re here and it isn’t to play tour guide. I’ll do the sights by car tonight and you can catch me up over breakfast.”
