East of Orleans

by Renee' Irvin

  Jacqueline’s face grew serious. “Didn’t Doc tell you I get sixty-forty? Sixty for me and forty for you.”

  Mae hesitated for a moment. “All right, given your reputation, I’ll agree to your terms, but you had better be worth it. The sheriff, he visits here twice a week, so be especially nice to him. You may need him some time; they usually all do sooner or later.”

  Jacqueline smiled. “Of course.”

  Mae exhaled. “They come here for different reasons, unexpected pleasures, things their wives would never dream of doing. What am I telling you for? You know what I’m saying.” Mae chuckled. “There’s a tall, dark-haired man that has a thing for watching. He likes to call the girl by his wife’s name, but don’t worry, he’s harmless and is generous to the girls. Just remember what happens here stays here; I don’t care how bad it gets. We have never had any trouble with the law. Of course, we have kept the sheriff paid off for years.”

  Priscilla leaned over and whispered in Mae’s ear. Mae’s face drained of color. She turned back to Jacqueline. “There is one young man, he’s been banned from here, but on a busy night, he might slip past the girl at the door.” Priscilla shot Mae a sharp glance and they exchanged stern looks. “He gets pleasure out of tying the girls up. He ain’t never done any of them harm and I do not believe he ever would, but the girls are afraid of him. You don’t need to worry. I’ll keep him away.” Mae stared long and hard at Jacqueline, then walked back down the stairs.

  A moment of silence passed, and then Jacqueline asked Priscilla, “What did she mean by that?”

  “None of us know, but Miz Mae does. There something ‘bout that boy and her, always has been, but I ain’t n’ere been able to put my finger on it. Best to stay away from dat subject, but I hear he’s from a real important family, some banker’s boy.” Priscilla started to laugh. “She didn’t tell you, but Miz Mae, she don’t allow any colored men in here. Not that she cares; she’d take anybody’s money, even those randy gold-mining trash. The sheriff he hates all us coloreds. He says he will close her doors if he ever hears tell of Miz Mae’s girls entertaining colored men.” Priscilla bent over in laughter.

  Jacqueline smiled. “What’s so funny?”

  “The sheriff, he shure must be crazy, for his favorite girl is a high-yeller from one of them plantation families over near Charleston.”

  “Perhaps the sheriff is colorblind,” Jacqueline whispered, as she stood in the hall looking over the banister.

  “What in the hell? Do I need to go out and build my own damn saloon?” shouted Jules McGinnis. He was playing poker at McGarrity’s saloon when a ruckus that had broken out upstairs, and was now proceeding down the winding oak staircase suddenly interrupted his game.

  Jules was livid. “Can’t a man even play a decent hand of poker anymore?”

  A black bartender quickly responded. “Mister Jules, I do believe the two men’s up there is fighting over one of the barmaids. Miz Watson, she say that she sick and tired of every time she fix her stair rails and have new drapes made, one of your boys from down at the gin comes right back and tears her place up all over again.”

  Jules was trying to concentrate on his card game, but all the yelling and cursing, glass shattering, and the tumbling impact of two bodies fighting their way down the stairs, made it impossible. With his cigar clenched between his teeth, Jules’ firm belly jumped back as one of the stair fighters landed right on top of his table, disturbing both his game and his whiskey.

  “I repeat, do I need to go out and build my own damn saloon?”

  The solemn-faced player Hoyt, a cotton gin employee of Jules, spoke up from under his wide brimmed hat. “Now there’s a thought,” he chuckled. “It’s your winnings, boss. I believe I will call it a night.”

  “Ah hell, come on now, you ain’t going to quit on me, are you? It’s still early. How ‘bout we take this game down to Mae’s and visit with her and her girls for a while?” Jules’s haggard opponent broke into a wide grin; exposing a gold front tooth.

  “Well, I do reckon you ‘bout as full of good ideas as anyone I know. Mae’s got a new girl in her stable.”

  “Is that so?” said Jules with a smirk.

  “She’s French,” said Hoyt.

  Jules laughed. “She’s what?”

  “You heard me, boss, she’s a French girl.”

  “Why, you crazy sonofabitch, you wouldn’t know a French whore from a Chinese one. What makes you so damn sure?”

  “Cause she speaks it. I heard her.”

  “You sure that gal ain’t just pulling your leg?” Jules smiled broadly as he turned up his glass of whiskey.

  “I’d like her to pull something all right, but it won’t be my leg.”

  “Ha! You crazy bastard!” At that moment, an abundance of glass and chairs broke as a few patrons dashed to a more secure corner or table. Jules turned sideways in his chair, still clenching his half-smoked cigar between his teeth. He let out a roaring laugh as he caught the quick glance of one of the young men still fighting his way down the staircase. Not just any kid who was getting the hell beaten out of him; it was Jacob Hartwell, Jules’s nephew.

  “Boy, hey, boy! What in the hell is going on here?” Jules grabbed Jacob and clenched him with his right hand as tight as the cigar that was still between his teeth.

  Jacob’s fighting opponent said to Jules, “This no good little sonofabitch insulted me in front of my woman! He said, why didn’t she leave with a real man, instead of being in the company of a lowlife half-breed. I told him to get the hell on, leave us alone. I knew he was drunk. Miss Watson, she has tried her best to get him to leave but there was no use. I told him that if he didn’t shut his mouth, I was gonna cut his tongue out. He’d better leave Flora alone, or next time I swear I’ll kill him!”

  “Whoa, boy, you ain’t gonna kill nobody, you hear? You know who you talking to? You know who runs this town? I’ll take care of this boy, but I better never hear you threaten him again.” Jules turned to his nephew. “Son, your ma and pa know you’re hanging out here? Huh? Isn’t it time you go on home and keep yourself out of trouble? Isn’t it high time you grow up, boy, and act like a man? Why don’t you get a job down at your daddy’s bank, settle down, and find yourself a nice girl? There’s one thing for damn sure, you sure as hell ain’t gonna find her here!”

  “How old are you, Uncle Jules? You have never been married and look at you!” Jacob shot back.

  “Hell, and I ain’t planning on it either, son. I ain’t the marrying type.” Jules glanced at one of the barmaids as she cleared off the table. “Decided that long ago.”

  “What’s the matter, boss, ain’t you found the right woman?” asked Hoyt.

  “Hell no, that’s why we’re going to Mae’s tonight, maybe I’ll find her there.” Hoyt broke into a cackle as Jules turned to his nephew. “Son, go on home, you hear me? Liza hears that you’ve been here and I will catch hell for not running you off, now go home. Tell your pa that I’ll see him tomorrow after Sunday service. Have to see him on some banking business. Now get the hell on out of here!” The three men left McGarrity’s saloon with Jules slapping Jacob across the back.

  “Good evening, gentlemen. Jules, nice to see you,” said the teenage girl whose name was Chastity. Jules reached for her waist and smiled. Her black, low-cut sequined dress exposed her bosom, the parts not veiled by her long cascade of pale blond curls. Jules pulled her against him and pinched her waist. She never resisted his affection, offering only a tempting smile.

  “Good evening, sugar, you sure look fine tonight.” Jules said lasciviously. “Hoyt here tells me that you have a new girl in the house.”

  “A new girl? We always have a new girl. Why, nobody knows that better than you, Jules.” All three laughed, as Chastity with her blond curls swaying, motioned them in. Elaborate brass chandeliers hung low, dim gaslight flickered through ruby globes swaged with crystal beads. Scarlet-flocked wallpaper covered the corridor off the entrance. Gilded cherub sconces drippin
g with prisms lined the walls, guiding customers on their way. Mahogany planters overflowed with lush green ferns that ushered them through.

  “Ah hell, Chastity, you know we’re referring to the French girl,” said Jules.

  “Ah yes, well, why didn’t you just say so? Come with me.”

  They entered the salon where several choice girls were dressed in all their finery, lounging in groups of two’s and three’s, Jules and Hoyt saw the most beautiful women this side of the Mississippi. The crowd was getting thicker, the girls friendlier, and their clothes skimpier. The pianist had switched from a lively tune to a more sensual sound. The mood was sophisticated and yet seductive. The girls’ dresses, all flowing silk and sequins were reds and aqua, soft pink and emerald. They wore feathered boas and little silk shoes with furry pom-poms on the toes. Mae bragged that she had the girl’s gowns shipped in from Paris. The best Madame Bouvier’s Parisian shoppe had to offer. Cuddled up against anxious patrons, Mae’s girls giggled, and then, more often than not, left in groups of two and sometimes three. All the young women were under the age of twenty-five.

  Jules leaned up against the brass railed mahogany bar and drank a shot of whiskey. He glanced around the room to see if maybe he could get in a poker game.

  And then he saw her.

  Jules eyes stopped, his heart stopped, he could not move. He broke away and thought perhaps he had already had too much to drink, and then he turned and his eyes locked with hers. She smiled a seductive smile and walked toward him. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Chastity said to her, “Mademoiselle Jacqueline, I would like you to meet one of Miss Patterson’s most notable and distinguished, and shall I say, frequent guests, Jules McGinnis.”

  “Bonjour, Mousier Jules. Comment allez-vous?” For once, Jules McGinnis was speechless.

  Mae Patterson entered the salon and went over to Jules. “Jules, I see you have met our latest boarder. As usual, you wasted no time.”

  Jules smiled and nodded. “Mae, you look beautiful tonight as always,” but he never took his eyes off Jacqueline.

  “I didn’t think that you noticed,” Mae said, obviously miffed. Mae gave Jules a long serious look before she turned to greet Major Abbott who had just entered the house. Jules stared at Jacqueline. “I‘m sorry, I don’t mean to stare, but you are the damn prettiest thing I have ever seen.”

  Jacqueline gave Jules her most ravishing smile.

  The combination of her illicit beauty and child-like innocence was intoxicating to Jules. Her sensual pout, waist-length black hair that cloaked her full round bosom, were provocative enough, but it was her eyes that made her stand out among the rest. Slanted green eyes with flecks of gold. Jules had never seen eyes like hers and they created a mysterious hold on anyone who gazed into them.

  “Can I buy you a drink?” asked Jules.

  “Yes, but let’s take them upstairs where it’s quieter,” Jacqueline replied.

  Upstairs, just before they entered the room, Jules kissed Jacqueline. He thought that he wanted to be there, but suddenly he wished they were somewhere else. They walked together into the room. He closed the door behind them and as he opened his mouth to speak, she placed her index finger on his lips. She reached down and removed her ruby satin shoes. She helped Jules unbutton his shirt; appreciative of his firm, stocky body. She ran her long nails delicately across his broad, hairy chest. He unbuttoned her dress and tilted her head back. His eyes scanned her face and he saw an intimacy to her that he had never seen before. His hand slid under her camisole; he felt the firmness of her breast. He heard a thump and saw a black cat jump out of a brown satchel onto the bed. The cat had a fixed stare on Jules as he swished his tail back and forth. Jules glanced at the cat and then back at Jacqueline.

  “Take that damn thing off,” he whispered as he removed her black lace dress from her shoulders. He felt hot, but not in the way that he usually felt before he had a whore. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hard. He said in a low voice, “Woman, you have got a look about you.” There was a moment of silence.

  “What kind of look?” she whispered. He pulled her tight against his body. She could not move. She could feel his desire. He swept her long black hair around and draped it over her shoulder. He began to kiss the length of her neck, running his tongue along the side of her ear. Jules whispered, “The kind of look a man does not see very often.” Then he turned her around and looked hard into her eyes. “It sure as hell ain’t the look of a woman who is being fucked every night.” Strands of black hair fell across her face and he pushed them away with his hand and raised her face to meet his. She noticed his eyes were no longer a flickering blue, but instead were traveling curiously across her face.

  Pulling away from him, she smiled. “What do you want me to do? But first, let me refill your drink.” She turned and made another drink for him. Jacqueline placed the glass to his lips and watched him drink. He sat the glass down, picked her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed.

  Jacqueline whispered, “Are you married?”

  “Does it matter?” he said. He noticed the cat curled up in the corner, staring at him, moving his tail.

  “Not at all,” she said with a smile.

  In the wee hours of Sunday morning, Jules raised his head from the satin pillows to find that his petite French darling was gone. As he lay there, trying to remember the previous evening, he became aroused, but Jacqueline was nowhere. Jules dressed, and intended a quick exit from Mae’s, when Priscilla saw him walk through the front parlor.

  “Mister Jules, lawd, where you been? Miz Mae, she say you be too busy. I jest tell her Mister Jules, he ne’re too busy before for our girls and our company, but it’s been a right spell, Mister Jules, where you been? You shure looking awful bad this morning.”

  Before Jules could answer, Mae appeared, wearing a powder-blue silk morning dress.

  “Mae, my, you look well this morning. I was a bit disturbed when I woke and found Jacqueline gone from my bed,” Jules said.

  “Was there anything wrong, something the matter?” Mae asked.

  Jules kicked the end of a Persian rug up with his shoe, smiled a sarcastic smile and removed a cigar from the pocket of his vest. Priscilla puckered her lips and looked at Jules sidelong as she pretended to dust off the Louis XV sideboard. Jules reached for his hat on the chair and with cool eyes said, “No, I just like her company; what I remember of it.” He looked at the floor, and then back up at Mae. “She’s a hell of a woman, alright. I had such a good time last night that before I knew it, morning was here. I wonder if Miss Rousseau has that effect on all her patrons?”

  Priscilla shot Mae a quick glance and then went back to dusting. Mae said, “I am sure that she does. You are not her only client, you know, and besides, the Major requested her presence; that's the nature of this business.”

  “She is an ambitious sort,” said Jules as he shook his head, narrowed his intense blue eyes and curled his bottom lip.

  Jules gently pinched Mae’s right breast as he leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. At the open front door, he paused and smiled.

  “Goodbye, Jules,” Mae said sweetly.

  “Tell Miss Jacqueline I will call on her soon, real soon, and Mae, if you will, please find another interest for the Major.”

  Jules left Mae’s and stopped off at McGarrity’s tavern for a shot of whiskey. His head had never hurt so badly. He could not explain the way he felt, only that he had never felt that way before, but he had a pretty good idea. Jules entered the saloon and saw Maude Watson tending the bar. “How you doing this morning, gal?”

  Maude looked up from behind the bar and smiled, drying a crystal bar glass and noticed that Jules looked rather ill. “I’m doing fine, Jules, but you don’t look so good. What did you do last night?”

  Jules gave her a coy smile and leaned across the bar to look into her kind brown eyes. Maude looked much older than her years, but she had always cared about the regulars, the kind of person t
hey could confide in. That was what Jules liked about her.

  “I went down to Mae Patterson’s place.”

  Maude puckered her bottom lip and narrowed her eyes. “She got you, too, didn't she?”

  Jules looked at her quizzically. “Miss Maude, I don't know what on this earth you are talking about?”

  “Oh hell, Jules, don't you play that game with me.” Maude grinned, exposing two missing lower teeth. “She got you, didn't she?” Maude leaned over and picked up another bar glass to dry. “I can’t believe you fell for her tricks. Don’t feel bad; I hear she’s taken half the men east of Orleans. Look, don’t quote me; Lord knows I have enough trouble but, Jules, every man that comes in here that’s been with that woman all say the same thing.”

  Jules stared into Maude’s face. “And what’s that, Maude?”

  “I believe she drugs her customers. I mean, I may be wrong, but not a single man that has been with her can recall a thing. And if you’re smart, you had better count your money. Lee Worley left there with nothing more than his clothes and he swears he had two hundred dollars on him when he arrived.”

  Jules turned his whiskey up and threw his glass against the wall. “Damn her!”

  Several weeks had passed when Lila McCoy received a letter from the bank that said she was to come in and meet with Rollins Hartwell. Lila told Granny and the two of them, both dressed in black, still in mourning for Isabella’s daddy, but even if they hadn’t been, Isabella thought that the black would have been appropriate. The young girl rode into town with her head held high. She was determined that not even the sight of a Hartwell would ruin her day.