Empire Girls Page 8

  I nudged Maude. “Who’s that?”

  “She has far too many admirers already,” Maude huffed. “Don’t add to her roster.”

  “Are you going to answer my question or not?”

  “Cat LeGrand,” she answered, after making me wait a moment.

  “Is that her real name?”

  “What do you think?”

  I took a few steps toward the bench, drawn as moth to flame, Maude dragging behind me like an iron prison ball. “I want to meet her. Will you introduce me?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  I laughed. “I don’t really want to give you one.”

  “All righty, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “You didn’t! And anyway, what’s the crime in being popular?”

  Maude rolled her eyes. “Spoken like a true babe in the Greenwich Village woods.”

  We approached slowly, arm in arm. If Cat noticed us homing in she gave no acknowledgment. A round-faced girl sat at her feet like a supplicant, telling a story with broad, expansive gestures, attempting to elicit a reaction she simply wasn’t getting.

  “Cat,” Maude said, her nasal voice interrupting, cutting into the girl’s enthusiastic ramblings.

  Cat’s bored expression dropped from her features, replaced by an avaricious grin. “Maude,” she said, looking at me with glittery dark eyes. “Have you brought a party favor?”

  “Possibly,” Maude said, “but not for you. I’m merely making introductions.”

  Cat brought a hand up. Her long nails were painted the deep, pure fuchsia of my mother’s peonies. I slipped my hand in hers, surprised at their roughness.

  “Ivy Adams,” I said, wincing a bit as her hand gripped mine.

  Cat studied my face as though she were committing each feature to memory. “Are you the seamstress?”

  At that moment, I wanted to be, more than anything. “No,” I replied. “I’m the actress.”

  Her lacquered mouth drew into a pout. “Oh, pity. I can’t use one of those.”

  “My sister can sew,” I said, suddenly overcome with the need to please. “Maybe she can help you out.”

  “Maybe,” she mused.

  “Oh, jeez,” Maude groaned. “Head count.”

  The party’s attention shifted to the patio door, where Nell stood, dressed formally for evening. With one arm draped over the railing and a thin, knowing smile, she looked inscrutable as a sphinx.

  With great efficiency, Nell began to work the crowd. She hit the outskirts of the party first, but then changed course, heading in our direction. “Prepare to be fleeced,” Maude muttered.

  “Two dollars tonight, ladies,” Nell said in lieu of a greeting.

  In a flash, money exchanged hands. So distracted was I by the swiftness of the transactions, it took me a moment to notice that all eyes were on me, waiting for my contribution.

  I felt myself go pale. I had a dime in each shoe, and nothing else. “If I can, I mean, if you’ll allow—”

  “If you don’t have it,” Nell said briskly, “you’ll have to leave.”

  “Don’t give her the business, Nell,” Cat said, thrusting two more dollars at the old woman. She turned to me. “You owe me one.”

  Nell frowned. “And your sister?”

  “Rose is tired,” I said. “She decided to turn in.”

  If I’d blinked, I’d have missed the quick glance between Cat and Nell. It was a simple meeting of slightly widened eyes, but the timing of it set my senses on high alert. How easily my suspicions took root—was I taking lessons from my bookworm sister?

  Maude let out a breath and laughed a little. “You look like you need a drink,” she said. “I’m eager to get at it, too.” We started toward the house, walking a few steps before we noticed Cat hadn’t left the bench. “You coming?” Maude asked.

  Cat tilted her head toward the inky night sky. “Gin comes to me,” she said, her voice like silk, “not the other way around.”

  “Well, I’m happy to chase it,” Maude whispered, pulling me away from Cat. “If I waited for it to find me, I’d die of thirst.”

  We entered a shadowy stairwell, bypassing the kitchen, and exited on what I thought was the second floor, but was actually a landing with a room attached. The door, marked Washing Room, was closed, but Maude walked in anyway without the courtesy of a knock.

  The heady scent of pine and oranges nearly knocked me over. Jimmy straddled a copper tub, carefully tipping a large glass bottle into a cocktail shaker. When he noticed us standing there he gave a wink, and my heart jumped in my chest. “Next batch is for these two lovelies,” he called to Viv, who stood at a folding table squeezing the dickens out of an orange.

  “Orange blossoms tonight,” she said excitedly. “You’re going to want more than one of these.” Jimmy gave her the shaker and she went to work, adding a dash of orange juice and a scoop of chipped ice before agitating the mixture in three slow undulations.

  “Aren’t you supposed to shake it up?” Maude asked.

  Viv poured the liquid into two porcelain teacups. “This is a delicate drink. A ladylike concoction.”

  “Oh, brother,” Maude said under her breath.

  Viv distributed the drinks. “Run and get me some more oranges, Jimmy,” she said, surveying her supplies. “I’ve only got one left.”

  Jimmy stepped over the tub. His shirtsleeves were rolled to the elbows, revealing thick forearms swirled with black hair. “Come with,” he said to me. “I need someone to help me carry the bounty.”

  “I only need a couple,” Viv said sharply, “not a case.”

  Jimmy ignored her and ushered me from the room, closing the door on the whispering girls behind us. Once in the kitchen, he seemed to forget why we’d come, and set about investigating the knives lining the walls. “Sonny would chop off my hands with these if he caught me in here,” Jimmy said.

  “And what would he do to me?” I said, hand on my hip, the words braver than I felt.

  Jimmy tossed me a dark look and didn’t answer. I knew he was joshing, but the uneasiness I felt on the patio kicked up a notch. I changed the subject. “Do you often make gin in the washing room?” I hated the way I sounded, prim and practical, like Rose.

  “That tub hasn’t seen a scrap of fabric in years,” Jimmy said. “The whole place stinks like a juniper and sweat.”

  I dipped a finger into my teacup and placed a drop of the ice-cold liquid on my tongue. “Doesn’t taste like sweat—I’d say more like sunshine.”

  Jimmy moved closer, leaving his fascination with the knives behind. He stuck a finger in my drink then ran the gin down the slope of my nose. “We’re alchemists,” he said softly. “You’ve got magic in your glass.”

  There was a mere hairbreadth between us. I could smell the pine scent of juniper, and the something else, something warm and inviting. “Now that’s a golden line,” I said, smiling up at him. “Does it usually work?”

  “I don’t know if it does or it doesn’t,” he said softly. “I’m just trying it out.”

  Jimmy had a small scar bracketing the corner of his eye, and one at the edge of his mouth. His nose was slightly crooked, as if it’d been broken and reset badly. His face grew more interesting the closer I looked, and more dangerous, just like this crazy city I was only beginning to understand.

  “It’s starting to work,” I said. “Give it time.”

  “No one’s got much of that,” he said. He leaned toward me, and my pulse hammered with anticipation.

  “Jimmy,” Maude said. She stood in the door frame, a strange look on her horsy features. “Viv doesn’t want to wait all night.”

  Jimmy grabbed two oranges from a bowl on the kitchen table. “Go easy on the gin,” he said, grinning as he stepped backward toward Maude. “There’s
a party every night if you want it. And ain’t that what life’s all about?”

  An eerie kind of silence filled the kitchen after they left. I felt odd about following Jimmy and Maude, and I was fearful Sonny the cook would return to find me nosying around his kitchen with a cup of gin, so I rejoined the others on the patio. In the few minutes we’d been gone the party filled out, shifting from picturesque gathering to raucous bash.

  The candles had been kicked to the side, so only the moon and stars lit the patio. Shifting bodies heaved unsteadily, strange elbows and shoulders knocking me to and fro. I downed the gin before it spilled. Someone called something that sounded like my name, but the darkness swirling above swallowed the sound.

  A hand clutched my arm.

  Before I raised my eyes, I thought about who I wished it would be. The dead? The missing? The map of Ireland?

  No, I realized with a start. I wanted the girl trapped behind glass. The one upstairs, worrying.

  “Hey,” the owner of the hand shouted. It was the round-faced storyteller, the one we’d interrupted. “Got a light?”

  I shook my head and melted into the crowd.

  CHAPTER 7

  Rose

  I AWOKE TO music and laughter. I got up, pulled my nightdress up to my neck and peeked into Maude and Viv’s side to see Ivy sitting on one of their beds holding slices of cucumber over her eyes.

  “I don’t see how this will work.” She giggled.

  “You can’t go over to Cat’s place with big circles under your eyes. She likes pretty things.”

  “She saw me last night!” said Ivy.

  I walked over to them.

  “Hey there, sleepyhead,” said Viv. “You’d think you were the life of the party, the way you snored away.”

  “I don’t snore,” I said.

  They all laughed.

  “We need to get dressed and go find work, Ivy.”

  “I am dressed,” she said and stood up. She was wearing a scandalous dress. Light blue with thin straps, a dropped waist. She didn’t have on any sort of corset, which was usual for Ivy, but what I found most distressing was how her whole spirit seemed to be pulling against the fabric. As if her body, free from its constraints, was beginning to be as bold as her mind. One party, one night, one cigarette. Had I lost my sister?

  Well, I thought, I’ll just find her again.

  Because, to be honest, she looked lovely, like a wildflower. But, instead of saying so, I rolled my eyes and returned to our half of the penthouse.

  I grabbed the dress it took me half the night to make, tried to hide myself as best I could behind one of the lower beams.

  Ivy came over to me, pouting. She has the most beautiful mouth, and she’s used it wisely since she was a little girl. Her pouts, even the fake ones, could get almost anything out of our father.

  “I think this dress is lovely, and you know how I feel about fashion,” she said.

  I walked out from behind the beam and went to pin my hair up in front of the dressing table mirror. “I do, and I also know you don’t care about my opinion. I’m worried about how people will look at you when they see that dress. They’ll think you’re a harlot. Where did you get it?”

  “Viv gave it to me. I think it was Daisy’s.” Ivy was playing with her beads and not looking at me. I wanted to stomp my feet and get her attention. I wanted her to notice what I’d made.

  “Ah, the mysterious Daisy,” I said.... And she looked up.

  “You made that?” She walked over to me and fingered the hem at the arms. I’d made the sleeves three-quarter inch, and hadn’t used any under satin because I’d run out.

  “Well, thank heaven she was a seamstress, or I’d have to go on the streets looking like a beggar. I spilled ink on my dress last night and had to make this rag out of the curtains I found.

  “You look beautiful,” she said. “Like a butterfly...”

  “Thank you,” was all I could muster. “It will have to do until we can buy something. The color is atrocious.”

  “You are so silly. Have you learned nothing of the newer fashions? This dress looks absolutely new, Rose! All the girls are wearing their dresses shorter now. You’re in style. How about that?”

  I wasn’t convinced. She went to her small trunk and pulled out a pair of black heels. Not boots, little strappy heels.

  “At least our feet are the same size. Wear these,” she said.

  “Where did you get them?” I asked.

  “Father bought them for me in Albany before...well, before. Put them on,” she said.

  After, she and those ninnies we lived with tried to put some rouge on my cheeks and lips but I wouldn’t let them. Which, I have to admit, led us to a small romp of lighthearted fun...we even laughed a bit. They chased after me with a pot of rouge. Then the music stopped and Maude put on another record.

  I always loved the way the scratching sound of the phonograph sounded in our living room.

  “Oh, listen to this. I just love this ragtime. Let’s dance, girls!”

  Ivy took my hand without thinking, and then the four of us were dancing on the wide wooden planks of the attic, giving whoever lived beneath us quite a headache, I’m sure.

  I couldn’t help but remember us dancing and laughing together another time—it felt like a million years ago.

  We were ten and eleven years old, respectively. We’d had dinner and were in our drawing room, as usual. That night, though, when father put the record on the new phonograph, Ivy got up and began to dance. Father and Mother looked at her with such love, I got up, as well. I took her hands and we started spinning around. Our hair spreading every which way. When we stopped, we fell to the ground in a dizzy, laughing heap.

  “That was fun!” she’d said.

  “Let’s do another spin,” I’d said.

  We were out of breath, but danced on, the two of us, still so small. Our hair down, flying around us, mingling light strands with dark. Our fingers still laced together. Smiling.

  “What happened to us?” I asked.

  “What do you mean?” asked a grown-up Ivy. That’s when I realized I’d said it out loud.

  “Nothing,” I said, not knowing how to explain the feelings welling up inside of me. “I’m just deeply ashamed that we look like loose women.”

  “Oh, let’s just go. We’re going to be late,” she said.

  “Late for what?” I asked.

  “Late for our job interview!”

  “You’ve found us work, Ivy?”

  “Well, not really. Just an idea.”

  “If it’s an idea, how can we be late? You can’t be late for an idea.”

  “You can be so difficult,” she said, pulling me out of our room and down the narrow stairway so quickly that I had to yank her back so I wouldn’t fall down and twist my ankle again on unfamiliar shoes.

  “Have a great day, ladies,” said Maude as we left.

  “Be safe out there...” said Viv, and the two fell into waves of laughter. It was a quiet comfort, having someone noticing that we were leaving. I couldn’t remember when anyone—joking or not—had thought twice about where I was or what I was doing. That’s what happens when you are the one in charge. Everyone always assumes there is a reason why you do the things you do. It felt good to not be in charge.

  “So, where are we going?” I asked as we rounded the landing on the fourth floor.

  “To Cat LeGrand’s dress shop. She’s the bee’s knees, Rose. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like her!” she said, as we made our way down two more flights.

  “What kind of woman is she? If I read a story where there was someone named Cat LeGrand, I’d think she was a terrible villain.”

  Reaching the foyer first, Ivy stopped, placed her hands on the newel post and spun
on her heels, the fringe of her dress reaching out around her like tendrils of smoke.

  “Stop it now. Don’t you dare, Rose. I mean it. Don’t judge her before you meet her. This is our opportunity. As soon as we get on our feet financially, we can start a proper search for Asher.”

  “For who?” asked Nell, who rounded the doorway of the dining room at that same moment.

  “For our brother, Asher,” repeated Ivy.

  “Ah, the elusive brother. Don’t bother yourselves with that task, girls. People come to this city to get lost, not be found.”

  I walked to the entry table where there was a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers in a crystal vase. Out of habit, or perhaps nervousness, I began rearranging them as I spoke. “Well, we don’t think he came to the city as a visitor. We think he was born here. That would make it an entirely different scenario, wouldn’t it?”

  “Is there something wrong with that arrangement, Ms. Adams? Perhaps you think you could have done a better job?”

  “Well, actually, Mrs. Neville...the fern would look better dispersed. Sometimes an arrangement looks more creative when you let the flowers mimic the way they look outside.”

  “It’s Miss, and you know a lot about things like that, I assume,” said Nell, looking amused.

  “My sister knows a lot about everything domestic. It’s rather boring. She took over our entire household after our mother died,” said Ivy.

  “Is that so? In that case, seeing as I just let another useless woman go, I could use a new housekeeper. Santino, Claudia and I can’t run this entire building ourselves. How would you like to work here, Rose?”

  I turned around to face Nell. Ivy was behind her mouthing the word NO.

  “What is the pay?”

  “I could offer a barter. You work in exchange for your board.”

  “For both of us?”

  “Don’t be silly. Just your portion. It’s a fair amount. But I’ll need your answer right away, because I’ll have to put an advertisement in the paper today if you decline.”

  Ivy came around to my side. “I was just going to bring her to Cat’s to see if we could get jobs there. See this dress?” she said, pulling at my sleeve. “My sister made this dress last night. Out of a curtain. She’s very talented.”