Only one corner of the snapshot was creased. The rest of it was crisp: glossy sepia in a white border with scalloped edges. The building before Greta, L'Royale, was neither crisp nor glossy.
At the door, Greta tapped hesitantly, then again, more urgently. When no one came, she slapped her palm against the glass in desperation, rattled the dark pane. Still no one. Greta gripped the snapshot in both hands. Her breath accelerated, lurching in, rushing out of her lungs. The skin under her fingernails turned white with pressure against the snapshot. Then she slipped the photo into her breast pocket and cupped both hands to the dark pane. Peering between them, she found yellowed eyes staring back.
Greta started, inhaled a clipped gasp. The face that surrounded the eyes was palely yellow too: old man cheeks and forehead, bulbous nose. Where lips were once, sunken skin gathered itself in converging wrinkles, pointed to the lack of teeth.
Below the face, a bolt unlatched, knob turned. The face moved backward so the door could swing in. A wheelchair revealed itself beneath the face. Smoke unfurled out of the mouth and through the open door; Greta exhaled.
Silence.
Old eyes waited for an explanation. A hand carried a cigarette butt, glowing in the dark, to the sunken mouth; lungs filled with nicotine air. Greta gave her name in pieces. "I'm Greta. Emerson." The man waited. "Moore." She added the third as a side note: quieter, less important. From inside her jacket she withdrew the snapshot. The man took it in the hand without the cigarette. He held it close to dull eyes.
For a moment the man froze. Then, in one motion, he thrust the snapshot toward her and shoved his chair away. His hand jerked toward the door to send it hurling back to it's frame, then stopped, extended in mid-air.
"Why do you have that?"
"The woman in the picture is my grandmother." Greta could summon no greater explanation than that.
"Grandmother." The man extinguished the cigarette on the arm of his wheelchair. He seemed to cave into himself, sink further and further. In the dim room behind the man, Greta saw a woman emerge from the shadows: short, aproned, Asian features.
Greta waited for a few minutes, then began to turn away. The man lifted his head at her movement. "Wait," he said.
"The man next to your grandmother was me."
"Oh god, there she goes again," Mel commented. Greta Moore was crossing the street outside of L'Royale. "You know she came here the other day asking if there were any plays opening soon. What a naive idiot."
ReplyDeleteMel was one of the harsher working girls and, as such, she was Margaux's best friend. They had been working together for 15 years, but sadly Mel was past her prime. She was lucky to get a few guys a week, especially since The Cheetah opened.
"You know what, I can't wait to get out of here; growing old's not half as bad as everyone says it is," she cackled. She'd started smoking at 13.
Margaux chuckled respectfully, but she knew Mel wasn't going anywhere. It's impossible to get out of there.
"Hey Cleo, we got a customer out here!" Sadie, another working girl yelled.
Margaux turned to face the mirror and adjusted her wig: flawless. She had never prostituted herself of course, but if she looked good and she was just the house mother, imagine the anticipation of all her customers to get to THE GIRLS. And they were great girls. All beautiful, all costumed, all ready. Margaux kept the lights low to hide the more worn features: the yellowing teeth, the graying skin, the sagging, the fried hair, the expressions they wore. These girls were not here by choice. This job was not exciting; it was a living. But most of them were young and still believed prince charming would show up and save them. This was the only way they'd ever known how to get attention from a boy and the only option they had to make money. And Margaux was the one taking them in. Facilitating the solicitation of young girls.
"Hello sir. How can I help you?" Margaux asked.
"I'm lookin for one o' dem whores," he said gruffly.
"Well do you have any kind of preference. We have lots of different girls."
"One who's good at it, and not gonna complain, and has big titties."
Well, money was money after all.
Alexander Darcy woke up with a start as the alarm on his phone went off. Fuck, Kara! He ran around the apartment putting yesterday's clothes back on and hurried down the hall to the elevator. No matter how many times he pushed the button for the damn machine, it still wasn't coming faster. At some point a girl with wandering eyes got in and he almost ran into her, thinking it was the ground floor. She was studying him as they rode down, but he was in such a rush he didn't care or seem to even notice her existance. The elevator lurched to a stop and just as the doors opened Alex darted out, his coat furling out behind him.
ReplyDeleteFriday, January 30, 2009
ReplyDelete"Seriously Midge?"
"I'm sorry, I overslept, my alarm didn't go off...it won't happen again-"
"You're right, it won't."
My first night shift- I finally was given the 10 to 4 shift and I screwed it up. I had had a late night the night before and the only thing keeping me awake was the sunshine. Once the snow storm moved in, I was out like a log- that's when the power shut off. Nonetheless, I slipped into a thin pink slip, caked on bright blue eye shadow, cherry colored lip stain and threw on 6 inch clear heels. I was ready to go.
The bright florescent lights blinded me and in my hungover stupor I tripped onto stage, facing the huge night time crowd. Everything but the tacky beat fell silent- clearly the Saturday scoundrels had yet to see someone like me doing what I do.
Half way through the set the audience began to clear out and boo- I really didn't think I was that bad...but then again, today clearly wasn't my day.
"See ya Midge, tomorrow will be better..."
I threw on my faded blue sweats and headed out the door where a brown haired women waited. I prepared myself for mockery until she approached me reluctantly,
"Hi...I just saw your show. I know it's kind of weird but I've heard about you and just wanted to see for myself. How do you do it?" She peered at me while her unannounced innocence peered through me.
"Strip? I mean, when you're broke anything's possible." I dug in my purse for my house key and headed for the stairs.
"Oh..okay. I just moved here and I auditioned at Le'Royale, so I was just wondering-"
"Listen, I'm not too familiar with this town yet. If you really need advice then come back tomorrow, maybe I'll have something more helpful for you then. I've just had a rough day, sorry."
Without hesitation I walked around back and upstairs. I couldn't deal with this girl, she didn't know what she wanted and I had nothing to offer her- finding opportunity in this miserable town is like trying to find a guy without a boner in the strip club.
It's too cold to leave the shop today, though I doubt I'd leave even if it weren't. This hasn't kept others from wandering the streets, however. So, I make myself a pot of tea and position myself on an old wooden chair near the window. It appears that no one outside is prepared for a cold front like this one. A few pedestrians even have the nerve to beam their beady eyes in my direction, as if it's my fault. No crystal ball or deck of tarot cards could have predicted this blizzard, and this isn't to mention that weather really isn't my specialty anyway. That midget girl gives me the worst look of them all, though I am sure it has nothing to do with the weather. She visited me last week, and when I refused to refund her visit after telling her what she didn't want to hear (that her father was, in fact, right about her job choice), she stormed her stubby little legs right out of here. I also picked up on a hint of her meeting someone special in the coming months, but I saw her head angrily bobbing up and down on the other side of the shop window long before I had the chance to tell her. I suppose that's for the best. Good news is much better off when it's not expected.
ReplyDeleteOne girl doesn't look so angry as she passes by. In fact, she even forces a smile. From this alone I can tell she's new here. She also looks lost, and no doubt, she's probably wondering how she got herself into whatever situation brought her here. Whoever this girl is, she's in for a lot of surprises these next couple of days.