East of Orleans (6 page)

“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 dripping 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.