The Harlot’s Pen (15 page)

Kate shrugged her shoulders. That would work out. It was only for a month. And perhaps Rose would help. Sharon worshipped Rose. If Rose didn’t want Posie, Sharon didn’t want her either. Kate hoped this would work in reverse. If Rose liked Violet, Sharon would tolerate her.

Sharon liked it at El Verano too much to risk her spot with a little spite-fest.

The one problem with Violet was Caleb. Kate had been blindsided by that one. Caleb was handsome in a boyish way, and smart as a whip. He was a fellow on the way up, a bridge engineer. But he liked it rough, and he didn’t care who knew it. The other girls gave him a wide berth, only going with him if they had to, and Kate always let them off the hook for the “minimum three” rule if Caleb was one of them. When he’d asked for Violet for her first time, Kate thought it would teach her a lesson. Kate was rarely wrong, though when she was, she adjusted fast enough. Kate made Violet turn in her tips from Caleb to keep her from being too eager. But the tips stayed high, and Violet and Caleb stayed upstairs longer each time. Kate would have to find another way to punish Violet if this kept up.

There had been very little in the way of “influential” men this week, as Violet called them, and that suited Kate just fine. Violet had to learn to whore before Kate would let her get close to the men Violet pined for. If it came too easy, if she didn’t have to earn it, Violet wouldn’t appreciate the result.

* * * *

Mondays were slow, and Violet lingered in the salon in her sleep chemise and slippers until it was almost three in the afternoon. She had tipped Samantha and Moses generously, ten dollars each, after breakfast, having watched Lily and Sharon do the same. “Thanks for the delicious dinner Saturday night,” Violet said to Samantha, putting some money on the kitchen table. “I had a good week, I hope you’ll share my good fortune,” she said to Moses. His glare softened enough to suit Violet as he took his portion. The only ones he didn’t glare at were Rose and, of course, Kitty.

She went back to her room, only to find Rose sitting on her bed. “What’s new?” Violet said. Rose looked odd, even more otherworldly than usual. “You all right?”

Rose didn’t answer, but kept staring off into whatever she was seeing. “Rose? Do you need something?” Violet heard the thin panic in her voice and pulled herself inward. “Let me get you a glass of lemonade.” She turned to go, but Rose stopped her.

“No. Stay.”

Violet turned back to her. “What’s wrong?”

She looked at Rose’s gray eyes, and the centers were wide and black. Her breathing was shallow, and as Violet came close she thought her breath was strangely sweet. She reached out and put her hand on Rose’s shoulder. Rose’s scream pierced the air of the entire brothel.

“Rose! What in hell’s the matter?” Violet shouted, all control gone.

“They’re back…” Rose said, drawing her knees up under her dress and hugging herself.

Kate opened Violet’s door. “What the hell is going on here? Oh, it’s Rose,” she said, turning to the now shivering girl on the bed. Troy whined at her feet, and Kate put a hand down to stroke him, all while keeping her gaze on Rose. Behind her, Violet could see Lily and Sharon, peering around Kate to get a glimpse of the commotion. Neither looked particularly upset. Ghoulishly curious, thought Violet.

“Come, Rose. Let’s put you to bed,” Kate said, holding out her hand to Rose. Rose still shivered, despite the midday heat of June. “Now, Rose.”

Rose put her hand to her scar, stroking it lightly. “No.”

Violet watched as Kate reached down and lifted Rose into her arms, like a child. Rose turned her head to Kate’s bosom, buried her face in her breast. “Shhh,” Kate said. “Open the doors, Lily. Help me get her down to her room.”

They walked out without a word to Violet. Sharon closed Violet’s door behind her, leaving Violet alone to contemplate in wonder what had just happened.

* * * *

At least it was a Monday,
Kate thought. The atmosphere at the El Verano Resort was uneasy. She’d left Rose in her room, knowing the spell would work itself out over the next several hours, and poured herself a good sized whiskey. Lily and Sharon had seen it before, and though no one liked it when Rose had her spells, they knew it was short-lived. Violet, still pale from the event, was quiet and skittish. Kate had spoken firmly to her, telling her that it was just “Rose’s way,” and that she should get on with her dressing. Although Violet had obeyed, her nerves were bad for business.

Kate sat at her little table, a glass of whiskey in hand, watching the room. The Victrola played a record of Original Dixieland Band, a choice Kate hoped to liven and soothe the jangled atmosphere. Doc Simmons, the Sonoma pharmacist, sat in the big armchair, reading the paper, while Reggie played a poker hand with Jonathan from the railway station. Lily, perched like a guardian angel, looked on. It was still early, not quite seven, when Caleb arrived. He never came on a Monday, but it was to see Violet, Kate knew, and for the moment she was glad. It would set Violet right to get a good spanking. Knock the spooked out of her.

Kate marked a drink on her pad for Caleb and watched the poker players dealing in the corner. Lily was laughing at someone’s joke, and Sharon was out on the porch enjoying the quiet evening. Rose would be sleeping by now, the worst of it over, and Violet and Caleb were setting up a rummy table. In a moment she would go out and get Sharon, have her join in a hand of rummy to keep the two from a tête-à-tête. The evening wouldn’t be a bank night, but Mondays usually weren’t.

She was surprised, therefore, when Moses came into the parlor. He normally stayed on the porch or in the kitchen unless something was wrong, and Kate was at attention immediately. He signaled her with his head, and she followed him out of the room.

“It’s Rose,” he said. “Come.”

Rose slept in the little room off the main house rather than in the house. She had her own entrance, a privilege in keeping with the sums she brought in, as well as a necessity for her own strange ways. Now as Kate and Moses approached the little door, Kate could understand what worried Moses. Troy paced back and forth in front of her door, his pointed nose pressed to the gap at the threshold. The sickeningly sweet smell that emanated from under the door was compounded with a metallic odor that made Kate gag. She turned to Moses. “Quietly.”

He nodded. He tried the knob, and as Kate expected it was locked. He took a long, thin knife from his boot and slipped the point into the lock. It clicked, and the knob turned. He opened the door slowly, as the smell hit them both. Again, Kate choked down her gag, and as her eyes adjusted to the gloom of the curtained room she pulled in her breath sharply.

Rose lay on the floor, naked. The room reeked of opium, and the tarry stuff was evident next to the pipe on the floor. But across Rose’s neck, along the scar, bright blood flowed down in a thin sheet, dripping onto her breasts.

Moses crossed the little room in two steps and pulled Rose’s blouse off the floor. He wrapped it around her neck, pressing hard. “She’s still bleeding, so she’s still alive.” He bent his shaved head. “And she’s breathing.”

“It isn’t spurting,” Kate said. He shook his head. “We need a doctor.”

She looked around for a knife, or whatever had done the damage, and saw nothing. Opium made a person lethargic, not violent, but with Rose, who knew.
The door had been locked, so she must have done this to herself
, Kate thought. Whatever nightmare lived inside of Rose made its regular appearances, but never like this. “I’ll hold the cloth. It doesn’t seem all that deep. Get Samantha and tell her to fetch Doc Simmons. He’s in the parlor.”

Moses nodded and was gone.

At least it’s a Monday,
Kate thought for the second time that night.

* * * *

Kate didn’t look right, Violet thought when she saw her return. She had watched curiously when Moses came and got her, and was even more surprised when Samantha came in and spoke to the ruddy-faced gentleman who’d been quietly enjoying a whiskey and soda and reading the
Expositor Forum
, the local weekly news rag. Samantha had whispered something to him, and he’d immediately put down his paper, taken one long swig of his drink, and followed her out. Shortly after, Kate had come in, drying her hands. She was pale under her warm complexion, and her mouth was tight.

Violet considered going to her, asking what was wrong, but she’d been on the wrong side of Miss Kitty too often in the past week, and then, too, Caleb was here. She didn’t want to attract Kate’s notice to the fact that they had been playing the same hand of rummy for fifteen minutes, or that Violet hadn’t tried to entertain anyone else. Probably the less attention she attracted, the better.

Finally, at eight, Caleb rose and whispered the magic words to Miss Kitty. She nodded distractedly, made a note on her pad, and Caleb gave Violet a quick nod. She felt her pulse quicken as she led him upstairs.

She pulled a pillow over her mouth to muffle her cries, and when she came back down, Caleb behind her, both were much calmer. She watched him settle up with Kate, then walked him to the porch.

“Sit a while,” she said, indicating an empty rocker. Sharon threw her a quick glance and shook her head slightly. Violet pretended not to see.

Caleb sat. “Only a little while, Vi. I’ve got to be up early tomorrow. We’re putting the finishing touches on the Wingo, and I want to see it go up.” The Wingo, as Caleb had told her, was the railway bridge he’d had a hand in designing, and it was an amazing feat: a railway bridge that went up like a draw bridge, built over the dredged Sonoma Creek.

“You should get a photographer from the local newspaper to take a picture,” Violet said. “And a reporter to do a story. You could tell the reporter all about the design and even explain the four-engine dredge. ‘Does the work of a thousand men!’ the headline could read. And the subhead could say, ‘Engineer Caleb Houston watches as the new Wingo bridge is raised to let river traffic through.’ You’d be famous!”

They both laughed, and Sharon rolled her eyes. “You’re such a bookish one, Violet,” she said. “Did you know, Caleb, that she spends her whole Sundays writing in her journal? I think she’s going to write a book about us!” Sharon let her hoarse laugh go and rocked back in her chair, but Violet did not join in. She sat frozen, watching Caleb’s face.

“Writing a book, are you?” he asked finally.

“Not at all. Sharon’s just teasing, like she does. I’ve kept a diary since I was twelve. You know how girls are. Just a place to write little poems, sketches, you know…” She trailed off. She had talked with Caleb about how she liked to write and how she’d had some stories and poems published but had been deliberately vague, and he’d not pursued the topic. They were far too busy talking about the work he did or doing the work she was doing now.

Sharon got up, and swinging her hips, went back into the house.

“I don’t care if you’re writing ten books,” Caleb said. “Sharon’s jealous, you know.”

Violet nodded. “Yeah, the penny dropped for me on that. She’s got nothing to be jealous about. I guess women sometimes just get that way.”

“I’d rather have an hour with you than a hundred hours with Sharon. She’s pretty, all right, but she’s got no spirit.”

“That’s funny. I would have thought Sharon was plenty spirited for you.”

“Maybe ‘spirit’ isn’t the right word. ‘Heart,’ maybe.”

“She had a real tough start in life. I think Miss Kitty’s the only mother she’s ever had, and the only loving she’s ever gotten is from working.”

“You’re a kind soul, Violet. You know, you’re something special. Well, I’d better be going. See you Wednesday?”

Violet smiled. “I’ll be here.”

He winked and jumped down the three steps off the porch. For a minute, Violet was completely happy.

“Violet, Kitty’s not gonna like it if you just sit here like a mooncalf,” Sharon said behind her. “You’d better get back in and earn your supper like the rest of us.”

Violet turned and looked up at Sharon standing behind her. “Don’t be angry with me, Sharon. I’m not shirking.”

Sharon seemed momentarily disarmed by Violet’s humble response. “All right, but if you make Miss Kitty mad, we all have to bear it, so try to be a little less stuck on Caleb Houston.”

“I’m not stuck on him.”

“The hell you aren’t,” Sharon growled. Her composure fading, she stood over Violet, who went still in the rocker, and put her hands on her hips. “I heard what he said. ‘Better an hour with you than a hundred hours of Sharon.’ You don’t come from the streets. You’re doing this for fun, but the rest of us are working for a living and don’t appreciate you waltzing in here and taking Posie’s old spot and then not doing anything to make the place lively. You don’t realize it, but you sitting on your can, or upstairs snuggling with Caleb makes for an empty parlor, a dull card room. Every girl’s got to pull her weight, not just for her own gents, but for all of us.” Sharon was out of breath when she was finished.

Violet stood up, knowing she towered over the girl. “Well, you were on the porch for almost an hour this evening, so how is it that I’m the one not pulling my weight?” Violet snapped.

Sharon’s face grew hard. “I am on my period, so I can’t work. There ain’t enough customers for me to be pouring drinks. So I can’t earn anything tonight unless it gets lively enough that the gents start buying us drinks. And Rose must be sick again, so that leaves you and Lily, and she gets her curse about half a day after I do. She’s in there working her poor twat off, and you’re upstairs mooning over that blond roughneck. This ain’t a party, girlie. If you want to go to a party, go back to your society friends and your trust fund!”

“I don’t have a trust fund. I’m living on what I earn, just like the rest of you,” Violet said, but Sharon had already gone inside.

A moment later Moses stepped out onto the porch. He stood facing Violet, a step too close. She stepped back. “You get your ass inside and get to work. Miss Kitty don’t need no cat fight tonight, and you better not start one, or you’re gonna be getting a hiding from me that won’t be the start of anything fun. Now get.”