Page 36 of Charlotte's Reckoning
He blinked in surprise, obviously not expecting her to ask such a thing. “I thought things were good for you here. Is there a problem with Elise?”
“Never. She’s a good friend.”
“Then, why leave civilization behind? The railroad isn’t finished yet, and the town hardly counts as one with little more than a feed store, a mercantile, and a jailhouse. From what I hear, it’s growing, and, one day, it might be civilized, butit’s still a roughplace, as are the men thereabouts.”
Why was an excellent question. When he left in a few days, would she miss him? The loss of income from his patronage would be felt. Without it, the cushion she had every month, most of which she put into savings, would vanish and, with it, any hope of getting out of the trade one day. Her weekly rent bought her more than a room. Elise oversaw everything: crisp linens, spotless rooms, a chef to prepare all her meals, and Arthur, a gentle giant of a security guard who provided unwavering protection.
Despite the amenities that far exceeded the Pleasure Palace and were worlds away for those poor women trying to eke out a living on the street, Charlotte was exhausted. Not only physically but emotionally. With only two months until her twenty-second birthday, she felt used up. At this pace, with her persistent melancholy, she would likely be dead before she reached thirty.
Never had she expected her life to turn out like this. Things had to change. Perhaps Fenton could be the catalyst.
“There has to be more to life than this.”
“You’d miss old Fen, and I don’t mean just my big cock. We’ve become more than that. Admit it.”
“I’ve grown fond of you, of course, and I enjoy our time together.”It was something she had told all her customers at some point, but with him, she meant it.
“Then I say yes. Come with me. You’ll be my best girl like you are here.”Before she could set him straight, he stretched out on the bed and pulled heron top ofhim. “Let’s seal our bargain with another round.”
He planted a hard kiss on her lips and then rolled them until he was above her.
“Fen, wait,”she said, pushingagainsthis chestandturning her head to the side to avoid his mouth smothering her words. “I don’t want to be an upstairs girl anymore. I’m done with it.”
“And you wouldn’t be at the Bucket of Blood?”
She grimaced. “That’s a horrible name and should be the first thing you change, but you don’t understand. I’m not suggesting I work as one of your girls. I want to manage them for you.”
He pushed up on both arms and stared at her, clearly never having considered it. “I’d thought to do it myself,”he replied.
Charlotte pleaded her case. “You can’t possibly want to wrangle a gaggle of women. If you plan an operation half as large as any of them here, that’s twenty, at least. Imagine dealing with their troubles every…single…day. The complaining, the drama, and the jealousy over customers who fall in love with them, and vice versa. Then there are the mood swings and the baby scares.”
By the time she finished with her laundry list, his black brows were so furrowed they appeared to be one, and she knew she had him. She pushedagainsthis chest, andhe rolled off her, stretching out on the bed, arms crossed behind his head ashe scowledatthe ceiling.
She scrambled to her knees to drive her argument home. “Why do you think women run brothels? Most men don’t have the fortitude or the patience and turn it over to one of them, anyway. I’d be saving you those headaches from the beginning.”
When he looked at her, eyes narrowed, his suspicion resonated when he asked, “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. I want to be paid, of course. Either a decent salary ora percentage ofthe profits. As long as there’s a minimum. A girl has to eat, after all.”
“And a maximum,”Fenton countered. “No whore,no matter howpretty or how sweet her pussy, is going torob me blind.”
Over the years, she’d learned not to react visibly to the battery of demeaning names—trollop, slattern, and harlot were a few that came to mind. Some of her more refined clients used flowery euphemisms, calling her a painted lady or fair belle. Whatever the term, it meant the same thing.
Each time reminded her of how heartbroken her father would be if he knew what she’d become. Hearing Fen say itwitha wealthofdistrustand disdain in his tonemadeher wonder. Wouldhe ever consider her an equal partner? Was it possible for a woman to win in this world? She was determined to try, even if the answer to both questions was no.
“I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me, but since you have doubts, let me prove myself. I’ll manage the ladies for six months for half the take,”she boldly suggested.
“Half! Fuck that! After paying the whores their 20 percent, I’d be left with practically nothing.”
“Just the upstairs,”she clarified. “You get every cent from the bar, which we both know is where you’ll profit.”
“I’ll give you 25 percent,”he offered.
“Forty-five with a $100 minimum per night,”she countered.
“Twenty-five. No minimum. It’s my investment that will get us up and running and my money to lose. That is my final offer.”
She glared at him momentarily before returning his hurtful words with a slightly different slant. “I’m not letting a bastardrob me blind,no matter howbig his dick. Forget it.”
