“So I said to him, Mister, if you’re gonna pay me that much money just to sit on your lap, and only sit on your lap, then I’ll just have to quit the theater and marry your ass,” a woman’s voice said from behind a dress rack. Out of my line of sight, her thick southern drawl echoed through the room.
“And, yet, you’re still here,” another woman laughed as she stood in front of a mirror a few feet from me.
With her gaze locked upon herself, she examined the hooks that attached her lace thigh-high tights to her lace panties. Several strands of pearls draped her bare breasts that bounced with her movement.
I closed my eyes and exhaled a deep breath.
“Ladies,” Margaret called out. “We have a new girl with us.”
As the woman behind the dress rack peeked around, the one in front of the mirror spun on her high heels. The pearls swished back and forth across her bare skin.
I smiled at them both, but kept my eyes focused upon the clothed one. “Good afternoon.”
“Oh my, why aren’t you a pretty little thing,” the clothed one said. She trotted around the dress rack and bounded toward me. “Welcome, welcome, I’m Ester.”
“Evelyn.”
“And such a pretty name, too.” Her smile beamed as she clutched my hand and dragged me across the room. “You can sit at my vanity, if you like, and you can use anythin’ you see. I don’t mind at all.”
The other woman’s lip snarled in a scowl that tightened into her rigid shoulders. “I didn’t know you planned on hiring another girl, Margaret.”
Margaret ignored the woman’s disdain and began rummaging through the dress racks.
Pink, red, blue, green, white, and every other color a dressmaker could use for their design hung from the racks in several different styles and cuts. Some of them had short skirts, while others had long skirts with shimmering trains of beads and lace attached at the waist.
“Don’t mind Pearl,” Ester whispered. “She didn’t get much sleep last night so she’s a bit of a grump today. Are you from around here?”
I nodded as I sat in the chair.
“And how long have ya been a dancer?”
My heart thumped. Do I tell her the truth? Do I lie? I glanced at Margaret.
“Ester, don’t pry,” Margaret growled. “Finish getting ready, you’re on after Pearl.”
Ester’s smile vanished into a frown as she fetched an eyeliner pencil and swiped the black hue over her rose-colored dusted eyelids. “I was just askin’,” she muttered under her breath.
All four of us fell silent. One out of anger, one out of dominance, one out of punishment, and me, out of fear.
Unlike my mother’s vanity from long, long ago, powder brushes, hair brushes, bobby pins, and curling pins lay scattered on the top amongst several tubes of lipstick and makeup compacts strewn in a disorganized mess.
I remembered all the times, growing up, I’d watch Mama as she readied for an evening out on the town. As I grew older, the childhood play changed into how-to lessons for a young lady.
She taught me how to apply lipstick, how to perfect thin penciled eyebrows, and shared the secrets of the seamless brush stroke for kohl eye-shadow and rouge.
Sometimes she would pin my baby curls into a glamorous up-do or give me wavy soft strands that I’d admire for hours after her and Daddy left for their night out—each time annoying Frank and the neighbor who’d look after us.
I didn’t care, though. I cared for nothing except the daydreams of a little girl, pretending that a handsome, kind young man had come to call upon her for an evening of dinner and dancing.
I’d dance around my room until either Frank or the sitter called for bed time, and even then, I’d have imagined conversations over books and music.
I missed my innocence.
Margaret tossed a dress across the vanity. It landed just a few inches from me and I flinched as the heaviness thwacked against the wooden top.
The red silk and lace shimmered in the reflected light of the diamond-like crystals along the v-shaped bodice and long lace skirt.
“It’s worth more than your life, but it’s his favorite so you’ll wear it for him tonight,” she barked.
Ester gasped. Her eyes grew wide as they danced from the dress to Pearl. She clasped her hand over her mouth and retreated a few steps from us.
A whispered curse word left Margaret’s lips as she closed her eyes.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
Before Margaret could answer, Pearl glided toward us with a sleek, predator movement. Hatred seethed hot in her glare with flames in a color nearly as red as the dress she traced with her eyes. Anger bubbled through her stiff body.
She opened her mouth to speak.
“I wouldn’t dare say a word, if I was you, Pearl,” Margaret hissed.
Pearl closed her mouth, stomped her foot, and strode out the door of the dressing room, slamming it shut behind her.
“Well, that went better than I thought it would.”
“Hush, Ester.”
“But I was only—”
“Hush.”
“Sorry, sorry, I won’t say another word.”
Margaret pointed a finger in my face. “Slip into the dress. I’ll be back in a few minutes for your fitting. Ester, I expect you on that stage in ten minutes.”
As Margaret ran after Pearl, Ester waved her hand toward her boss, dismissing her orders. A soft snarl left her lips and she rolled her eyes as she parked her rump on the stool of the vanity next to me.
“She’ll calm down, someday.”
“I don’t understand what I did.”
Ester plucked a tube of lipstick from the mess in front of me, and with a twist on the little black cap, she painted a perfect layer of crimson upon her lips. She puckered them together when she finished and checked for smudges in the mirror.
“Don’t concern yourself too much with her feelin’s.”
“Margaret’s?”
She shook her head. “Pearl’s.”
“I don’t understand.”
“That dress is for Vincent Giovanni, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Well, Pearl was Vincent’s flame not too long ago . . . and for quite some time, actually. He moved her into his big ole’ mansion across town and showered her with clothes and jewelry. She was dizzy in love with him, but he never felt the same.”
Ester rose to her feet as she clutched the dress hanger and motioned me to follow her over to the mirror. “She should have known him for the unattainable bachelor that his is, but no matter what we all told her, she didn’t listen.”
“So what happened?”
“She stupidly professed her love and he had her moved out of the house the next day.”
“That’s awful.”
“It is, and yet, it isn’t. Vincent Giovanni is not the marrying kind, at least not after his wife died a long time ago.”
“How did his wife die?”
“Apparently, she got pretty sick, and no matter what the doctors did, they just couldn’t help her.”
“That must have been hard for him.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, Pearl should have known better than to do what she did, tryin’ to hook a un-hook-able fish.” Ester smiled and began to undo the buttons on my dress. “I will say his Consigliere, Max, now he, is a man to love, if you know what I mean.”
“Consigliere?”
“You know, his business man, kind of like a second in command. Max Catalano.” With his name uttered from her lips, seduction flickered in her eyes and she bit her lip as she let out a soft squeal.
“Command over what?”
“Vincent’s business affairs, of course, darlin’.”
My mother’s dress hit the floor and my arms wrapped around my bare skin.
“Oh honey, there ain’t nothin’ I haven’t seen on another woman before,” she laughed as she unfastened the hooks of my brassiere. “Here, let me help ya.”
Within minutes, she sl
ipped the blood red dress up my body. A little too big for me, the low-cut shaped v cuts in the front and the back exposed more skin than any dress I’d ever worn. The drop waist hugged my hips tight, while the long lace train flowed out from behind me a few feet.
“So what type of business is Mr. Giovanni in?”
“Oh a little of this, a little of that.” She dismissed my question as she spread out the train behind me. “But I suppose he has himself a new kitten, now.”
“I’m not his new kitten. I don’t like him in that way.”
Ester slid the palms of her hands up my neck, cradling my cheeks. “Oh honey, that’s the same thing that Pearl said when she stole him away from Margaret.”
The door slammed behind me and we both flinched. Margaret’s eyes slit as she watched her gossiping employee.
“Ester, tell Vivian I want her to stay out there for a while. A group of businessmen just arrived and I want to keep them happy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ester bit her lip before casting me a fleeting smile then scurried toward the door with her chin tucked down toward her chest.
Margaret strode toward me. With a slight growl under her breath, she circled around me and tugged on different parts of the dress.
“It would figure that Vincent would choose someone a size too small. It needs alterations in the bust, waist, hips, and the length.”
She yanked a basket from behind the mirror and rummaged around until she found a cushion full of pins.
“If you move, and I poke you, it’s not my fault.”
With her stern warning, she began gathering the material in different places. Pin after pin, she slipped them through until the dress hugged tight against every inch of my body.
As I stood in front of the mirror, a stranger stared back at me. Unrecognizable from the woman I played when I walked into the dressing room, and I couldn’t deny that a flicker of excitement stirred deep within my veins.
A few times in my youth, I often gazed upon photographs of Hollywood starlets with a hint of jealousy.
Surely, I never wanted to be the type of woman who envied another woman for any reason, especially her appearance. However, I still couldn’t refute the occasional daydream of a stylish hairstyle or a glamorous dress.
And, now, here I stood a live version of every young girl’s dream.
Of course, with that dream came the reality of why the stranger stared back at me with the fear of the unknown and the dread of what I might have to do tonight. Will I have to kiss him? Will I have to dance with him? Will I have to drink with him?
No matter how I tried to shake the questions from my head, their unrelenting mockery wouldn’t disappear, and the thought of asking, the thought of saying the words aloud . . .
I can’t ask. I just can’t ask.
“Ouch,” I cried as she adjusted a pin and it stabbed me.
“You moved.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“Well, you need to get a handle on yourself before tonight. You are to join him in his private balcony and you won’t leave until he instructs you to.” She slid another pin in the bust of the dress.
“And what am I to do for him while I’m in the balcony?”
Margaret’s stare caught fire and blazed with a fury that simmered through her whole body.
“Are you hinting that you’ll have to please him in some way?”
“No. No, I would never do that.”
“You’re not here as a whore and Vincent’s not an egg, if that’s what you are trying to say.”
“No, I never meant to insinuate him a crude person at all. I only wish to do my job.”
She raised one eyebrow and scowled as she tossed the pin cushion back into the basket.
“I knew you’d be trouble the moment you walked through that door. Damn Barbara for sending you inside.”
“I’m not trouble,” I snapped. “I’m only inexperienced . . . and, well, weren’t you once? Inexperienced, I mean.”
“Actually, your assumptions aren’t exactly true, but I must say your moxie is refreshing.”
With the dress finally pinned to perfection, she strolled around behind me and began brushing and styling my hair with her fingers, twisting the strands into an up-do as though practicing to see how I’d look.
“My mother worked in theater all her life, dancing her way from New York to Chicago to even Paris. From the time I was a young girl until I was an adult, dancing myself, I helped her with her hair, makeup, and costumes.” She gently pulled a few curls to frame my face and laughed. “I can’t remember a day when I didn’t fantasize about performing.”
“Oh.”
Her smile vanished. “Not that I expect you to understand or know. You don’t strike me the type to know the famous ladies of the theater.”
She released my hair and grasped my mother’s dress from the hanger Ester hung it on, motioning for me to undress.
“Out of it, now. The sooner Maurice can start working on it, the sooner he will finish.”
My bare body trembled as I stepped out of one dress and into another, the familiar material slid up my legs, comforting the mess of thoughts in my mind.
Margaret strode for the door with the red dress hung over one arm and the train over the other. “The washroom is down the hall. I suggest you clean yourself up before I return in a few hours. You smell as though you haven’t bathed for weeks.”
She slammed the door behind her.
My knees buckled and my rump hit the floor with a thud.
In just a few hours, she would return to take me to the balcony. In just a few hours, I would have to entertain a man who I didn’t know, in ways I didn’t know. In just a few hours, my life would change, my existence would change, and everything would be different.
What did you think would happen when you walked into this place, you fool?
Tears streamed down my cheeks and I buried my face in my hands as I sobbed.
“Ahem, Miss Ford?” a deep voice asked.
Through my tears, my eyes locked upon Max Catalano’s handsome face. Raw pity flickered in his eyes as he looked upon me, the lonely, dirty, pathetic mess crumbled on the floor.
His olive skin and chocolate brown hair played with light of the room, darkening the rough, subtle beard along his chin and jaw line, defining his face. Just mere whiskers, they heightened his allure to another level of sexiness.
“Are you all right?” His velvet voice purred just as low and deep as before with a bold authority that caused me to wonder if he held a power than the boss he followed.
“Yes.” I wiped the tears from my cheeks. My eyes danced around the room. “Should you be in here? I’m sure one of the girls is going to return soon.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve been in here lots of other times and it’s never mattered before.”
“Oh, well, then, by all means . . .” I motioned around the room. “See to your business. Don’t mind me.”
“May I ask you why you are here, Miss Ford?”
His question caused a tiny speck of anger to bubble in my chest.
“Why is everyone so concerned with why I’m here?”
His eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“Do I really appear as though I’m some foolish dame who doesn’t belong in a place like this?”
He opened his mouth, but I raised my hand to stop him.
“Well, I’m here to tell you, mister whoever-you-are, that I’m not a fool, and I know what I’m doing.”
A fleeting smile brushed his lips. It radiated heat through my body, warming every inch and every pore. My cheeks flushed and I glanced away from his gaze, tucking my curls behind my ears with both hands.
“I’m sorry for my outburst.”
“Don’t feel you need to apologize.”
With a slight chuckle, his rigid stance softened. He ducked his chin for a moment and gave a subtle shake in amusement.
“Miss Ford, I didn’t ask you because I desire to imply
that I believe you’re incompetent. I merely asked because your beauty just doesn’t seem to fit in this place.”
My beauty?
“Well, I’m sorry I assumed your intent. I shouldn’t have yelled at you.”
I rose to my feet and spun away from him, catching his reflection in the mirror that had, only moments ago, introduced me to the stranger lurking deep inside. The stranger I didn’t know existed.
His eyes followed me.
My heart skipped.
Did he ever look away when he watched another? Did he ever feel his cheeks flush with heat and need a moment of reprieve from another’s gaze?
“Why are you here?” I asked him.
“Funny, that was my question to you.”
I fought tears as I gazed down upon my clasped hands in front of me. Not a single lie came to mind other than the obvious one: that I desired this career path.
Ha. Not even, I would believe that.
I knew the woman deep inside me who had walked into the theater, not but hours ago. I knew her shyness, knew her dread, and knew how uncomfortable she felt.
Could I face telling another person the honest answer? Could I allow the truth to slip from the tip of my tongue through my lips?
No, I can’t.
“You’re not going to answer my question, are you?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He inhaled a deep breath, and without saying a word, he yanked a money clip from one of the pockets of his pants. He unfolded several bills and threw them down onto the vanity nearest him.
“You shouldn’t be here, Miss Ford, and you shouldn’t get yourself tangled up in the likes of Vinny or Margaret. Take that money, get out of here, and don’t come back.”
I spun around to face him. “But what should I tell Margaret?”
“Just take the money, get out of here, and don’t come back. You don’t want to get involved with them, do you hear me?”
“Yes, I hear you, but—”
“Don’t mention any of this to anyone. Just leave. Don’t say good bye, don’t say thank you, just leave. There’s a backdoor at the end of the hallway. Use it.”
With his words, he strode out of the door and vanished, leaving the scent of his cologne as the only evidence that he had been in the room with me.
As the Liquor Flows Page 3
