Page 17 of Charlotte's Reckoning
“What kind of name isthat?”she asked with a grimace. “No,thatwon’t do at all.”
“Knewa green-eyed gal named Jade once. Not asprettyas this one but passable.”
“I like it. Jade, it is,”Heloise declared. As she sailed through the door, she issued Noah one final order. “Untie her, but stay sharp. She’s young but not as docile as sheseems.”
“Yes, mistress. Don’t fret. She’ll be here when yougetback.”
Her heels clicking on the plank floor faded fast as she swept down the hall.
Left alone, Noah turned to her. “You’re new to this, Miss Jade. My advice: Don’t cause trouble.”
“I’mjustsupposed to keep my mouth shut and my legs open. Isthatwhat you’re saying?”
“The walls here are thin. Iheardyour story. You got no one, and without money, how would yougetthereif you wanted to return to Virginia? Madam Heloise told you the truth.Ifyou leave, you’ll be living on the street and sick and starving within a week.Orworse, if youknowwhat I mean.”
“At least I’d be free.”
“Youseethe color of my skin?”he asked bluntly. “You think I don’tknowwhat it’s like? Believe me, miss. You wind up with someone who doesn’t take care of her whores like Heloise does, who doesn’t feed ’em or bring the doctor around—ever.”He shook his head. “Thenyou’dknowwhat I’m saying.”
That sounded like the bare minimum to her, and she must have looked like it because Noah warned, “Trust me. St. Louis is no place for a woman alone. At least you’ll be safe here.”
“In a whorehouse?”she replied in disbelief. “I bet you wouldn’t saythatif your motherhadbeen snatched off a train and sold into prostitution or your sister or wife.”
“Don’t got no sisters and ain’t never married, but Iknowabout these things because of my ma.”
Feeling a twinge of regret for her diatribe, Rowie asked with less spite, “You mean shewasin the ‘trade,’ as Heloise calls it.”
“Ifmoney traded hands, Ma neversawa dime. She worked in the best parlor houses in New Orleans for nigh on fifteen years. The gentlemen customers like their ladies young and fresh, like you.Whenher newness wore off, she got sold to another house andthenanother, each worse than the last. None of ’emwasasniceas this one. Being the biggest port in the south and one of the largest cities,therewerealways men looking for company, sotherewasalways work,evenwhen the war started.Untilthe Union fleet arrived with their gunboats.”He got a far-off look in his eyes. “They bombarded the city with cannon fire for a week,”he whispered. “I didn’t think my ears would ever stop ringing.Therewerefires everywhere, andpeopleweretrapped. Folks whocouldgetout fled for their lives. The house where Ma worked burned to ashes. With no reason to stay, we came west to be free, but wehadnothing andhadto beg, plead, and do whatever it took. Of course, for us,thatwasn’tanything new.”
“How old are you?”Rowie asked.
“Twenty-one.”
“Youlookolder.”Realizing what she said, she apologized, adding, “I meant no offense.”
“Ifeelolder.ButI suppose that’s to be expected after the life I’ve lived. Born in a Bourbon Street brothel, the son of a whore and a slave, I didn’tknowmy father.Butthey kept Ma and me together. They learned it made for happier whores if they got to keep their babies.WhenI got old enough, I worked in the kitchens and, later, the stables. They moved me back inside and put me behind the bar when I turned fifteen.I’dnever poured whiskey before, but they wanted me as muscle in case anything got outta hand, which it did—a lot.”
“Why did you continue working in a brothel? Youwerefree to choose.Werethereno other jobs for a young man of your size and strength?”
“Weweren’tthe only ones fleeing the South, and a man’s gotta eat. IhadMa to take care of, too.We’dbeen here a month, living on the streets. Some nights, if wewerelucky, we slept in a tent they set up for refugees—that’s what they called us—like bythattime, most of usweren’tbornhere.”He shook his head. “We had no money and were eating scraps. Until Ms. Heloise saw me on the street one day and hired meon the spot. She needed an enforcer. For the first time in my life, I got paid for working. Things turned around for us then. I had money to put food on the table and a roof over my mama’s head. So, you see, I’ve lived and worked in cathouses all my life. Here, at least, you get clean sheets and good food.”
“That’s a very low standard. What if I’d rather starve?”
“I suppose that’s your choice, but it won’t break your bond with the mistress. Without a man or family, you might as well give in to it. Talk to some of the other girls. Rose and Cindy don’t mind it here. They say it’s the best house they’ve worked at.”
“What stellar references,”she muttered.
“You’re angry and scared. Icanseethat.”He put his hand on the doorknob to leave. “Think about what I’ve said.”
“Wait! Istherea robe I might wear? I can’t sit around without a stitch on.”
His smile was sympathetic. “You bettergetused tothat, too.”
Whenthe latch clicked shut, the sound ricocheted through the room like a shout in the valley back home.Asif itwasa harbinger of doom, itseemedto signal the end of one part of her life and the ill-fated start of another.
This couldn’t be all lifehadin store for her. At nineteen,therehadto be hope for something better in her future.
“No!”she exclaimed to the empty room. “I refuse to raise St. Louis’ prostitute count to 3001.”
