Winds of the Storm

by Beverly Jenkins

  Men would relate later that the girls descending gracefully from the coach were as colorful as songbirds. The crowd roared appreciatively as gowns of canary and cardinal were joined by emerald, lapis, and dove gray. The women were tall, short, and in between. Five of them. All sporting earbobs, face paint, and rhinestone-accented pumps that matched their gowns. A dark one with the bearing of a queen stood next to a woman so fair her race was uncertain. There was a redhead, a blonde, and a brunette. The gowns were cut teasingly low, showing off wares that could be fully unveiled for the right price.

  Zahra was pleased by all the attention. She was counting on word of mouth to start the ball rolling, and this would send it well on its way. She wanted every man of importance to patronize the soon-to-be-opened establishment, because the more the men drank, gambled, and patronized the girls, the more the men would talk. Three more girls would be arriving by train later in the week, but for now, Zahra planned to bait her hook with the five lures that she had.

  “You getting out?” Matilda asked, sticking her red head into the coach through the open door.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, come on,” she cried excitedly. “We want to see the inside of the house.”

  Zahra made sure her domino was secured, then smiled at the nineteen-year-old Matilda’s youthful enthusiasm. Satisfied that her features were safe, the woman once known as the Black Butterfly stepped out of the coach.

  Her appearance drew applause and whistles. She inclined her head to acknowledge the approval, and the crowd responded with more raucous hoots and hollers. A grinning Zahra turned and took her first close look at the big white house. It was a typical New Orleans design, more Spanish than French, with intricate ironwork on the front gate, the second-floor verandahs, and the two large side porches positioned on opposing ends of the place. Zahra herded her women onto the porch, which was framed by two tall white columns. Out of her handbag she took the door key that Alfred had given her, then she let them in.

  The interior was done up in ivory and gold. Zahra and her companions took a studied look around, and what they saw widened their eyes. Amidst the gold and ivory upholstered chairs, settees and sofas, sculpted nudes were everywhere: atop pedestals, posing in the windows, doubling as table legs, framing mirrors over mantels. The renderings were exquisite in both form and detail. A life-sized statue stood by the winding staircase that led to the upper floors. The nude woman stood facing the parlor. An equally nude man stood flush behind her. His hand was on her breast, and her head was thrown back in the throes of passion. The piece looked so realistic that Zahra felt heat rise in her blood. Hoping to find something a bit less stimulating on which to settle her attention, she turned to view the waist-high, white-and-gold bar that dominated one corner. Behind the bar was a large, gold-framed mirror and shelves to hold the various liquors. Along the front were intricate friezes of nude men and women entwined in all manner of erotic couplings. It was a decadent, voyeuristic feast that made Zahra look away to continue her visual assessment. Above their heads hung a fancy, two-tier, cut-glass chandelier. Painted on the golden plaster around it were elaborate frescoes of nubile, nude women, their eyes sly, their smiles beckoning. Everything in the room radiated a sensuality that seemed to permeate the air. Zahra felt herself affected by the riveting décor and wondered how much time it might take before she became immune to the decidedly seductive surroundings.

  Everyone’s attention was then caught by a woman slowly descending the grand staircase. She was shrouded in a brown hooded cape.

  Zahra asked, “Who are you?”

  The woman lowered the hood to reveal a beautiful golden face and honey gold hair. “I’m Sophie Reynolds.”

  Zahra walked around her companions to move closer. “May I ask what you’re doing here and how you got inside?”

  “I bring greetings from Minta.”

  Code words. “I hear she’s doing well,” Zahra replied.

  “I hear she had lilacs at her wedding.”

  Lilac. “Indeed, she did.”

  Zahra saw the woman known as Lilac smile in response to the correctly phrased reply. Zahra also noted that the gesture seemed to bring even more light to her face, a face a bit older than Zahra had originally surmised.

  The girls were eyeing the exchange curiously and looked to Zahra for explanation. “Sophie and I share a mutual friend,” she said simply.

  Sophie inclined her head like a queen. “Welcome to Louisiana, ladies.”

  The women all responded with, “Thank you.”

  Sophie gestured grandly at the expansive gold and white parlor they were standing in. “I took the liberty of furnishing the place. I hope it’s suitable.”

  Stella, who was as struck by the place as the rest of her companions, whispered with awe. “Oh, yes.”

  “I agree,” Lovey echoed.

  Chloe said, “It’s like being in a palace.”

  The smiling Sophie asked, “Would you care to see the rest of the house?”

  Zahra nodded.

  The tour revealed bedrooms for the girls, servants quarters and the outdoor kitchen attached to the house by a breezeway. The colonel’s old study had been turned into a room for the gamblers, complete with dark wood furniture and a billiard table against one wall. One the third floor was a lovely bedroom suite that would be Zahra’s, but a large room on the second floor drew the most attention.

  A narrow hallway ran between the outer wall and inner wall. Although the interior was unlit they could not help noticing the glass that made up the inner room’s walls. Confused as to what the room might be, Zahra turned to look at Sophie, who replied, “This is for your voyeurs. Out here will be the chairs, and in there,” she explained, gesturing towards the room with its red-and-black velvet walls and matching bedding, “is where your girl and her gentleman will be.”

  Only Zahra’s training kept her eyes from going wide as saucers.

  The girls were studying the room with wise smiles and a few giggles. Sophie said with amusement, “I’m always surprised by how much men will pay just to watch.”

  A decidedly shocked Zahra shook herself and followed Sophie down the hall. What have I gotten myself into? All in all, Zahra thought the house would be perfect for what she’d come to New Orleans to do, but she was going to have to get accustomed to the place’s decidedly sensual atmosphere.

  “Will you be needing servants?” Sophie asked her as they made their way back down to the big white and gold parlor. The other women had peeled off to take longer looks at the rooms and the décor, leaving Zahra to talk to the mysterious Sophie Reynolds alone.

  They were now outside and walking along the path that wound through the overgrown gardens in the back of the house. Zahra finally responded, “Araminta said people are being sent.”

  “Well, if you need more I have a few names I can pass along.”

  “What is your role in this?” Zahra asked.

  “Just to get you settled. Answer any questions you may have. I’m really your competitor. Did Minta tell you?”

  “Yes, she did. How long have you known her.”

  “Since right before the war. I ran a house in Maryland that was a stop on the Underground Railroad in addition to being a brothel, and I handled some of her freight.”

  Zahra knew that freight was the coded word for runaways.

  Sophie stopped before a small fountain, “Do you really like the place? Minta sent me funds and said spare no expense, so I didn’t. I had all of the statuary in storage. No one will know it’s mine.”

  Zahra didn’t lie. “It’s a bit unnerving.”

  “Not what you’re accustomed to, I’ll bet?” she replied with a twinkle in her sherry eyes. “Don’t worry. In a month’s time, you won’t even notice the nudes.”

  Zahra wasn’t so sure. Even now her mind’s eye refused to let go of the memory of the statue of the man and woman by the staircase.

  Zahra had another question. “What needs to be done to keep the business fro
m being pestered by the city fathers?”

  “All payments and permits have been arranged. New Orleans is a very tolerant city, and as long as the right people are kept happy with the occasional gift, you and your establishment should be fine.”

  Zahra assumed she meant bribes. “I’ll need to know who these gifts are to go to in the future.”

  “Of course. We can talk about it after you get settled. You and I will have to come up with a way to communicate, since we can’t be seen as friendly by the public.” Sophie added wryly, “Especially once you begin stealing my customers.”

  Zahra met her eyes. “Will that be a problem?”

  “No. You won’t be in operation long enough to put me in the poorhouse. Or at least I hope not. You have some very beautiful girls.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And hopefully your girls will be able to attract the customers who won’t patronize me because of my radical politics.” Sophie studied Zahra for a few moments, then asked, “Do you plan to offer yourself as bait?”

  “No.”

  Sophie smiled softly. “I thought not, but excluding yourself from the menu will make the men even more eager for your company. They won’t be able to resist the challenge you present.” She then looked Zahra up and down with a critical eye. “You have a good figure. Make sure your gowns highlight that. You are a madam, and you should look like one. Now, tell me why you wear the domino.”

  “I was a dispatch during the war, and I don’t wish to be recognized.”

  “I see.”

  They began to walk once more. Sophie asked, “Is there anything else I might help you with?”

  “Instruct me on the ways of a madam. I have played bawdy women in the past, but never a madam.”

  “Well, first of all, you need to establish a style. There are madams who are flamboyant and loud, and others who conduct their business quietly. You have a certain grace about you that I believe you should incorporate into your Domino. Make her elegant, graceful, but most of all, intelligent enough to take on the men around her. You’re not a foolish woman, and Domino shouldn’t be either. Flirt, use double entendres, be playful but maintain the aloofness. You want these men following you around like lapdogs.”

  Zahra chuckled.

  “Always protect your girls. That giant man I saw by your carriage should do nicely. Also, I’ll send my doctor over so that you two can work out a schedule to have the girls checked on a regular basis. The last thing you want is disease—of any kind.”

  Zahra took both the safety and health advice to heart. “How will I contact you if I need to?”

  “For now, send one of the servants with a note. If we need a more secure means, we can discuss it at another time. Remember you and I will be rivals. If I see you on the street or in one of the shops, I will not acknowledge you.”

  “I understand.”

  “Good luck, Madame Domino.”

  “Thank you.”

  Sophie raised the hood on her cape, and once her face was hidden, she walked away, leaving Zahra standing in the garden alone.

  That evening, Zahra moved into her third-floor suite. The room was cavernous, with gleaming wood floors and a set of French doors leading outside to a verandah where she could sit and sip her morning coffee. The walls were pale gold, and accented with elaborately rendered iron sconces. The design of the sconces was repeated in the standing lamps on each side of the gleaming white, mirrored dressing table. The big wrought-iron bed dominating the room had an upholstered gold canopy and was draped with silky netting. She opened a narrow door and was surprised to see a bathing room complete with a large claw-foot tub.

  Closing the door gently she looked around with a smile. The décor was far grander than anything she could ever have imagined. Her little cabin back home with its leaky roof and paneless windows would have easily fit inside the space. To her further delight, the interior was free of the nudes and the other sensual trappings so prominently displayed elsewhere in the house. The beautiful room could belong to any wealthy woman in the country, but for the time being it belonged to her, and Zahra was grateful to have such a haven to retreat to.

  Chapter 3

  Archer spent the morning in his office at the hotel as he did every morning, going over the accounts. He studied billings from the city markets where he purchased fruits and vegetables for the restaurant; from the butchers who supplied his meats; from a plumber and his personal barber. He wrote out the bank drafts, then moved on to the second pile.

  Unlike the chaotic years immediately following the surrender, Archer now had no difficulty meeting his financial obligations. Thanks to his own hard work and an infusion of funds from the inheritance the family received courtesy of his mother’s Cuban uncle, the Old Pirate, the struggles he’d endured were in the past. However, other business owners in the city had not been as fortunate. After the war, real estate values had plummeted, as shipping interests had. There had been extensive damage to ships and to the port caused by the guns of the Union Navy during the May ’62 battle. That and the labor problems following Emancipation had dropped the city to its knees. Recovery was slowly taking place but not in a way envisioned by the Radical Republicans. Instead of the freedmen being able to own land or contract for work under conditions that would ensure their economic independence, they were being forced into agreements with former planters and masters who paid them little more than they’d received as slaves, thus stifling any expansion of the economy. Also impacting the South’s recovery were the Northern bankers who, instead of investing in and loaning money to the South, were offering financial assistance to the railroads and burgeoning manufacturing cities like Chicago and St. Louis. Because of this, the North was transforming itself into an industrial giant unlike any the world had ever seen while the South wrestled with economic and societal problems that Archer sensed would keep it mired for years.

  He was signing the bill for one of Lynette’s new gowns when his brother Philippe entered through the open door and gushed, “Are you going?”

  Archer looked up. The excitement on Philippe’s tan face was easy to see. “Where?”

  “To the formal opening of Madame Domino’s new house.”

  Archer wondered if this was how their big brother Raimond felt when set upon by his younger siblings. “Who is Madame Domino?”

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about her arrival?”

  Archer studied the youngest member of the Le Veq family and sighed. “Start from the beginning.”

  Philippe, who’d been on his way to the docks on the afternoon in question, described to Archer the eye-popping coach.

  “Apple red?” Archer echoed skeptically.

  “More like ruby red. It was shining like a polished jewel. Even the horses were tarted up with plumes and red rhinestone harnesses. How could you not know? Everyone in town is talking about it.”

  Archer responded with his patented sarcasm. “Too busy running this hotel, I guess.”

  “You need to leave this office, at least occasionally, big brother. You’re becoming more and more like His Majesty Raimond every day. It’s rather frightening.”

  Not liking being compared to Raimond, Archer cut Philippe a look. “Back to this Madame Domino. Why’s she called that?”

  “Because she wears one. No one has ever seen her without it.”

  Archer opened yet another bill from Lynette’s dressmaker. “Maybe she looks like a horse’s ass.”

  “Maybe, but below the domino she has the mouth of a goddess. My friends and I are betting she’s scarred or disfigured in some way.”

  Archer met his brother’s eyes and shook his head with amused disbelief. “Surely the gamers aren’t taking odds?”

  “Of course they are. She’s quite the mystery.”

  “What about the other women. Are they behind dominos, too?”

  “No, but they’re all beauties. The other houses are bound to lose customers once Madame Domino opens her doors.”

  “And whe
n will that be?”

  “Soon, according to this broadside.”

  Archer took the paper from his brother’s hand and read the announcement. “‘The most fascinating women this side of the Mississippi. Grand Opening.’” He handed it back. “Just make sure you wear a sock.”

  “Lord!” Philippe cracked, “is Raimond in the room?”

  Archer leveled him a look. “Out, brat. I’ve work to do.”

  They stared at each other with shocked eyes. The phrase was one of Raimond’s standards when being pestered by his brothers.

  Philippe drawled, “I told you, I’d see a physician about that before it spreads.”

  Archer pointed to the door. “Good-bye.”

  An amused Philippe departed.

  Archer walked over to the small mirror hanging on the office wall and stuck out his tongue so he could study it in the glass. Was he really turning into Raimond? He placed his palm over his forehead to check his temperature. Suddenly, his brother Drake stood reflected in the mirror behind him. Archer turned.

  Drake, whose dark skin was most like their mama’s, raised an eyebrow and asked, “Problems?”

  “I think I’m turning into Raimond.”

  Drake chuckled, “I hope not. We’ll have to kill you if you do. One His Majesty is quite enough. Two is grounds for justifiable murder.”

  Archer grinned. “What brings you here?”

  “Haven’t seen you in a few days. Wanted to find out how the investigation into Oscar’s death is faring.”

  Archer studied him for a moment. “Who says I’m investigating?”

  “I know you, Archer. I also know that Oscar was a friend, so, how’s it faring?”

  Archer surrendered. His brother did know him too well. “I’ve been trying to get a look at the death certificate, but supposedly it hasn’t been finalized or filed.”