Page 18 of Starshine
Monika cast one last glare over the girls before she led the way up the stairs. Garrett followed her, his stomach in knots. Monika opened the first door, Isolde’s, and motioned him in.
It was the first time he’d gotten more than a glimpse inside of the girls’ rooms. There was a comfortable chaise along one wall, a bureau full of clothes, a vanity and mirror with bottles of perfume and cosmetics organized across the surface, and an elegant four-poster bed draped with sheer cotton.
Monika came up behind him, coughing into her sleeve. “Tear it apart.”
Garrett kept his face carefully neutral as he obeyed, though it made him feel a little sick to do it. He checked the drawers of the vanity and found a purse, but when Monika counted the coins, it fell in line with the girls’ earnings. Anger loosened the knots in his gut. Monika really did pay them a pittance if that fistful of coppers was all Isolde had to her name.
Yet Monika still wasn’t satisfied. She had Garrett check the pockets of her dresses and search her bureau before he pulled the sheets from the bed and lifted the mattress to check underneath. It still turned up nothing, but he wasn’t allowed to even help put it to rights before Monika ordered him on to Julienne’s room.
He gave it a similar treatment, and again to Elizabeth’s room. All of them were adorned more or less the same with the main differences being in the dresses that the girls owned, the small liberties Monika allowed them to take with their cosmetics, and any personal belongings they had, which were few and far between.
Bridgette’s room was last, and Garrett was already beyond weary of the task by the time he reached it. He searched the drawers of her vanity, handing Monika the light purse he found for her to count. He checked the pockets of her dresses, the bottom in her bureau, under the cushions of the chaise. Last was her bed, and he sighed as he pulled the sheets off and lifted the mattress.
He braced the heavy thing against his shoulder as he felt underneath it. Yet a tear in the wool caught his attention. He pulled back to get a look, only to blink in disbelief as his finger seemed to slip through unbroken fabric. He pulled it free, seeing no sign of the tear he felt before he pushed his finger back in. And as he reached deeper, he found the cool metal of coin buried in the fluff.
“What is it?” Monika demanded.
“Nothing,” Garrett said automatically. He didn’t know how she’d done it. Doubted the coin had even come from the previous night because he hadn’t seen more than a few coppers change hands. But after all Bridgette had done for him, he wasn’t about to rat her out to the Madam. He just hoped he was a better liar than Bridgette claimed as he said, “Thought I saw a bug, but it’s just some fluff.”
He set the mattress down carefully, making sure none of the coins hidden in it clanked. Bridgette swept past Monika to look at the mess he’d made of her room with a frown. She met Garrett’s eyes briefly before she crossed her arms over her chest, turning her glare onto Monika.
“Can we put this to rest?” Bridgette asked through a weary sigh. “It was a slow night. I told you, it’s awful hard to steal coin that didn’t come through in the first place.”
Monika’s lips thinned as she glared at the woman. “If we’re that slow, then we need to be drawing more people in. You’re working out front tonight. Get people through the door.”
Garrett bit back his protest. It was frigid outside, and sending Bridgette out in that weather was downright cruel.
Bridgette’s shoulders slumped in resignation. “Yes, Monika.”
The Madam swept out of the room and down the stairs as she called, “Now hurry up and put your rooms back together. We open in two hours.”
Bridgette scoffed quietly as she fell into the chair in front of her vanity. She touched her reddened cheek before grabbing one of the pots of cosmetics. As she dabbed the contents on, Garrett put her sheets back on her bed.
He didn’t linger long, but as he circled around the bed to head for the door, he paused beside her. He kept his voice at a whisper as he asked, “Busy nights are likely better for stealing coin, aren’t they?”
Bridgette’s hands froze. For a second, her mask was entirely absent, the shock plain on her face as she met his eyes in the mirror. Garrett offered a placating smile as he rested a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Just be careful, Bri.”
Bridgette nodded before she reached up, putting her hand over his. Something unspoken passed between them, a silent covenant. Since they’d met, Bridgette had looked out for him, and now she knew that he would do the same for her.
“Thank you.”
8
As her cold faded, so did Monika’s prickly mood. Yet as soon as the Madam started feeling better, both Isolde and Bridgette caught it. Isolde shook it quickly, but it lingered with Bridgette as the week went on. Garrett watched her sniffle turn into a cough, and then to a fever that burned even hotter than Monika’s had.
It worried him. He wasn’t used to seeing Bridgette look frail, but in the grip of the fever, it looked like a stiff wind could knock her over. Midway through the week, she was so miserable that Monika even granted her a few nights off to try and sleep it away. Bridgette’s own tinctures were only doing so much to help, so under the guise of checking in on Julienne and her new client, Garrett managed to slip into Bridgette’s room to leave his most potent mix on her bedside table.
Monika fussed over her like a mother hen, making sure there was always a hot cup of water beside her bed, and a warming pan under her sheets. It helped to cool Garrett’s frustration towards her. Bridgette’s fever broke midway through the week, and by Thursday morning, she finally descended the stairs, looking more like herself again. But when Monika declared that Bridgette was well enough to work the next night for payday, Garrett’s frustrations turned to anger.
“She’s just barely recovered,” he said, trying to keep his voice level.
Monika didn’t even look up from the potatoes she was chopping. “If she’s well enough to be up and about, she’s well enough to lie down.”
Garrett had to leave the kitchen to avoid saying something that would get him fired. That anger didn’t cool as he helped with the rest of the pre-opening duties. When he saw Bridgette walk down the stairs, dressed in her finest to greet the payday mob, it only burned hotter.
Payday was always the busiest night, but it had quickly become his least favorite. There were always more assholes trying to start something, more fights to break up, and more messes to clean after. Not to mention, with the amount of people crowded into every nook and cranny of the place, he needed three sets of eyes to keep watch over everything.
