Rouge (#1 in the Cheveux Roux series) Page 11

  Chapter 9

  Evie was still making noises as I crept down the hall to my room. It was the first time I’d seen her in weeks, and I longed for my old friend. I stopped and lightly tapped on her door, waiting in the darkness. She opened it a crack, but when she saw me, she flung it wide and pulled me in.

  “What are you doing up?” She cried, smiling. Then she wrapped me in a hug. “I haven’t talked to you in so long.”

  “I know,” I said. She seemed so happy, I was confused. “How have you been?”

  “Amazing!” She went to her armoire and opened the doors. “Look at these dresses.”

  I walked over and touched the heavy silks. They were all brilliant and shone in vibrant tones I’d only seen in shop windows.

  “How can you afford them?” I whispered.

  “Armand has the most extravagant taste,” she giggled. “And Joseph just wants him to be happy. It’s like I’m their live dress-up doll.”

  I was speechless.

  “Don’t make that face!” she cried. “They’re very generous to me, teaching me to be a lady, and…”

  “Oh, Evie,” I said, shaking my head and turning away. I couldn’t believe she had changed so much that she now enjoyed this work. “I just wanted to see you. I’d better go now.”

  “Wait,” she said, catching my arm. “You don’t understand.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “But it does to me. I mean, it’s all shameful, and we’re all going to hell. But at least this way I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do.”

  I looked back at her in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  She turned away but not before I saw her crimson cheeks. “They don’t want me. I just cover for them. They’re like Roland. They don’t go with women.”

  For a few moments I stood in silence as the meaning of her words sank in. Roland was right, I didn’t understand anything.

  “So what do you do?” I asked.

  “That’s just it! I don’t do anything. They give me money and gowns and take me out to dinner, and when it’s time… I sleep or read or do whatever I want.”

  My stomach tightened. I didn’t understand how she could sleep or read while that happened. “But if they don’t go with women, how do they get satisfaction from you?”

  “They don’t,” she said, breathing impatiently. “That’s the whole point. They go in there. In that other room there.”

  I followed the direction of her pointing hand to a small doorway in the corner.

  “Where does that lead?” I asked.

  “There’s another bedchamber in there, and they do whatever they do in there.”

  The shock was almost too much, combined with my already disturbed emotions. I couldn’t think of anything to say, so I started for the door.

  “I’m sorry, Hale. I know it’s wrong… but at least I’m safe.”

  Her words sent tears spilling onto my cheeks, and I braced myself against the door as all the fears I’d been holding back poured out in bitter sobs. I hated this place so much, with its backroom deals and protections, all in the relentless pursuit of safety. I had to get Teeny out of here.

  Evie stepped forward and pulled me to her. My legs became weak and we sat right there on the floor as I gripped her waist with all my strength. I wasn’t sure I could stop crying.

  “Shh,” she soothed. “I’m okay. Really, I am. Joseph and Armand are unbelievably kind to me.”

  Another sob jerked my body as I struggled to find control. Evie continued smoothing my hair and shushing me, and for several minutes we sat in each other’s arms, her gently rocking me.

  At last I sat back, wiping my eyes with my hands. She produced a lovely handkerchief embroidered with a light blue E, and I took it to dry my face.

  “It’s beautiful,” I said, handing it back to her.

  “They’re especially fond of little details like that.” Warmth was in her voice as she spoke. “They’re always giving me little gifts.”

  “So are you… friends?”

  “I suppose,” she sighed as we helped each other stand. “They’re very grateful to me for helping them.”

  “Helping them?”

  “Keep their secret.”

  * * *

  Back in our room, Teeny was breathing softly as she slept in our small bed. The moonlight lit her creamy cheeks, and as I knelt beside her, I traced a copper curl that had strayed onto my pillow and thought how young she still looked, especially in sleep. I remembered the first time I saw her. Even then, in her starving condition, her creamy cheeks and copper curls made me love her.

  I was only twelve myself when it happened, and Rosa had dragged me to the back door as punishment for sassing her. She was threatening to throw me out into the streets to beg when we both got more than we ever expected. There she was, this tiny child, too weak to stand or even speak, tapping softly against the metal door. I’d cried and begged and promised never, never to sass again if only I could keep her. I’d promised to give her half of my food and all of my milk if only she could stay with me. She could sleep in my bed, I’d said. I’d take care of her…

  Guilt filled my heart at the knowledge of what I’d brought her to. I should’ve left her there to die rather than bringing her here. Now we had nothing, no way to provide for ourselves and no skills apart from what was useful in a dance hall. Or a brothel. If we ran away, we’d surely die, and this time it would be far more painful. The abuse we’d suffer on the streets—Rosa had been sure to tell me all the horrible stories of beatings and hunger and strange men lurking in dark corners, waiting for wayward women or lost children.

  It was her way of making me mind after my mother died, she said. She said it was to keep me from wandering off, but her tales never left my mind—even more now that I’d seen living proof. Of course, back then I’d had Roland, and he was so happy to be here you’d think this was the greatest place on Earth. He’d done his best to make me feel the same way. Until I discovered the secret rooms, until I knew it was all an act.

  Then I remembered how he’d helped Evie and guilt filled my heart again. It had taken weeks, but he’d actually come up with a brilliant way of protecting our friend. And I’d been so hateful to him and believed such horrible things. I shook my head and stood, slipping out of my skirt and top. I would apologize to him, I told myself. He would forgive me.

  As I lifted my blouse, I caught the scent of Beau on it and froze. My eyes pricked with tears again as I sat down at my dressing table, clutching the fabric to my face and inhaling deeply. A ripple of pain pierced my middle as I remembered the few hours we’d spent together, our dance, our kiss. He’d planned for this night to end differently, and right now I’d give anything to be lying in his arms.

  Without even putting on a gown, I stepped back, and still clutching my shirt to my face, I pressed my head into my pillow. Freddie would be back tomorrow, but for these few remaining hours, I could slip back into dreams of a life I could never have.

  Chapter 10

  It might not have ended as planned, but my night out with Beau had revealed our relationship to the rest of the company. And I no longer cared to hide it. Daily rehearsals became a daily break from reality for me.

  Beau would arrive with little bunches of irises each morning, and as I practiced the songs and dance steps, I would catch him watching me, smiling. His smile filled me with such joy. It was the happiest I ever remembered being, and when I wasn’t practicing, we were always together. I’d leave the stage for a break, and he’d meet me in the back for a kiss or an embrace. I stopped worrying about saving my blouse, because at any moment it seemed I could reach out and hold him, inhaling deeply. And for once, the dark, musty theater-world seemed a little brighter—red and gray as opposed to burgundy and black.

  “I was thinking I could get a second job at the shipyards. Maybe at night,” he said one day as we shared our lunch. I was sitting on a large box backstage with him standing beside me, his arm resting across my lap
.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “You’d be exhausted, and the docks are dangerous,” I said. “There’s the Italian problem… and what if you were injured?”

  He smiled up at me. “You’d worry about me?”

  “Of course,” I said, leaning forward to kiss his nose. He caught my neck and found my lips before I leaned back again.

  “I could take a weekend job. Maybe at one of the haberdasheries,” he said.

  “I’d like that better.”

  “You like a well-dressed suitor.”

  “You’d be dashing in a suit.”

  He chuckled and held an apple wedge he’d cut with his pocket knife for me to take. I took it and passed a piece of bread back to him.

  “If I did that and stayed here, you could possibly continue singing. I mean, if you wanted.”

  I thought about the suggestion. I’d never considered performing because I wanted to. I’d never had a choice. “Gavin would have to start paying me a real wage, and I’m not sure he’d like that.”

  Roland was calling me to the stage, and I swung my legs off the box. Beau ducked down for a quick kiss before I trotted back to the front, leaving our dreams with the rest of the old set pieces. The pretend world of our theater.

  “Now will you confess?” he asked with a grin.

  “Confess what?”

  “That you’re most definitely in love.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t think about that as being something real. It’s like everything else in this show—simply an illusion.”

  Roland frowned and sat back on his bench. “I don’t like hearing you talk that way.”

  “How else should I talk? It’s the truth, and you of all people should know it.”

  “Still. You deserve to be happy.”

  Warmth for my old friend filled my chest, and I remembered what I needed to do. I walked around the instrument and sat beside him, kissing his cheek.

  “I was wrong,” I said. “And I’m sorry for misjudging you.”

  He frowned at me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you smell like that stage hand.”

  I grinned and opened my mouth to sing.

  * * *

  Even my performances were better. I raced up the ladder before the finale each night into Beau’s waiting arms. We only had seconds before I had to swing out over the audience, but he would nuzzle my hair and kiss me lightly on the mouth. It was heaven.

  “Don’t smudge my make up,” I whispered, giggling as his lips left burning trails along my hairline and neck while I took my seat. I swung out over the audience, but my eyes stayed locked on his as I smiled and sang the words to the song.

  You’re in my arms, and it feels so right;

  but it’s simply an illusion…

  Freddie’s visits were as regular as clockwork with compliments and roses. He hadn’t returned to the subject of engagement, but I didn’t mind as much. It was Friday night, and I could see Beau in my peripheral vision pretending to be very busy while he waited for my wealthy suitor to say goodnight.

  “May I kiss you?” Freddie murmured, leaning close. I automatically closed my eyes and raised my chin, and again, our lips parted. He was growing bolder, allowing his tongue to find mine and curl around it before sliding away. It was an encouraging change from before, but my heart was even less invested now.

  “Goodnight, my love,” he breathed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I smiled and fluttered my lashes. “Goodnight.”

  As soon as he was away, I was off in search of the one I truly wanted to kiss. I found him in the shadows offstage. His back was to me, and he seemed very focused on adjusting a piece of scenery. I rushed to slide my arms around his waist, placing my cheek against his shoulder, craving the intensity we always shared, wondering when it might become more.

  But he moved me to stand in front of him. “When did he start kissing you?”

  “What?”

  “Freddie,” he repeated. “When did he start kissing you?”

  “I… I don’t know,” I shook my head trying to remember. “A few days ago? A week. I thought you knew—”

  “I didn’t,” he interrupted. “And I don’t like it. I don’t want him kissing you. Not like that.”

  “I’m sorry,” I snapped, ignoring the painful clench in my stomach as I said the words. “But you don’t get to make such demands.”

  His jaw tightened and he turned to walk away. I hurried after him. “Beau,” I pleaded, catching his arm. “It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “It does to me.”

  I stopped and let him walk on. But when he reached the back door, he didn’t go through it. He stood there facing the wall.

  “Don’t our plans, the things we’ve been saying, matter to you?”

  I rushed forward and pulled him to face me. “Of course they do,” I said. “But I still have to think of Teeny and protecting our future. We have to have a safety net.”

  He frowned. “I’ll be your safety net. I’ll take care of you. Just give me a little time.”

  “How much time?” I said, my voice sharp. “You’ve been saying that for weeks, but still you can barely support yourself!”

  The words were out before I could stop them, and a sick misery rushed in to fill their place. But my anger wouldn’t let me take them back. My life hadn’t changed, and if we were going to be together, he had to accept the facts. That I’d do whatever it took to get us out of this place.

  Still, I saw in his eyes I’d hurt him, and that hurt me.

  “I’m sorry I’ve wasted your precious time,” he said, pushing through the door before I could speak again.

  “Beau,” I called, but it was too late. He was gone, and I walked slowly to my tiny room, aching with the pain of his words and my response. Teeny was there, but it didn't comfort me. I went to our small bed and curled up on it, hugging my knees as the tears fell.

  Chapter 11

  I didn’t see Beau at all the next day, and during the finale that evening, we were back to avoiding each other. The pain was almost too much after our week of bliss, but I pressed all those emotions into a tight little pill that I forced myself to swallow and be done with.

  It was for the best, I told myself. It was never real, and it could never be real. Beau couldn’t take care of us, and if I kept going down that road, it would be too painful to come back. Not to mention I’d ruin everything I’d been working so hard for these last several months. Our beautiful future life, our security with Freddie.

  Beau took my hand to help me onto the seat, and when I glanced up our eyes met. His were red-rimmed like mine and my breath caught. He looked away as the music grew louder, and I swung out over the crowd. One glance back, and his eyes were still on me, his hands still holding the rope.

  I descended slowly to the stage in a swirl of peacock blue and feathers singing all the words to the “Illusion” finale. Frank led me in a circular waltz as the lyrics told the story of a cat who was so enchanted by a beautiful bird, he gave up everything, including his life, all for something that could never be.

  I wondered if Roland had written the words prophetically as I sang the lyrics and strutted in the lights, sparkling every time I moved until I took my final spin and ended with my arms raised over my head in a V, my head turned to the side, eyes closed in my nightly expression of rapture. As always, we remained frozen on our marks until the heavy curtain fell, sending a swirl of musty velvet all around us. It never changed.

  Through the darkness in the wings, I found Teeny’s hand. It was the first time she’d waited for me in weeks, and it felt good to lead her back to our room. Like she was still little and bad things hadn’t begun creeping in on us, closer with every passing day.

  “Does Freddie know about your birthday tomorrow?” she asked once we were in the dressing room.

  “No,” I sighed, trying to dispel any lingering feelings for Beau as I removed the peacock costume and reached for my dressing gown. I had just e
nough time to peel off my false eyelashes before the tapping started. I stood and went to the door, but this time, there were no roses.

  “Darling,” Freddie smiled and caught my waist, pulling me to him and kissing me without warning. Teeny let out a surprised squeak, and I didn’t have to pretend. I was equally bewildered by his flagrant disregard for propriety.

  “Why, Freddie!” I cried when he released me.

  “I’m sorry,” he grinned, tipping his hat to Teeny. “I just couldn’t wait another minute. I’ve got the most wonderful news. At least, I hope you’ll think it’s wonderful.”

  Teeny made an excuse about finding Rosa and quickly left as Freddie reached into his jacket and produced a small box. I took it and carefully opened the lid to find a delicate gold bracelet accented all around by what looked like tiny diamonds.

  “It’s too much,” I said, lifting it from the box. He quickly took it from my hands and fastened it around my wrist.

  “You remember when I mentioned engaging matters?”

  Anticipation mingled with heartbreak swirled through me. “Yes?”

  “I spoke to my father about it, and he’d like to meet you.”

  Dread immediately replaced all emotions. “Your father?”

  Freddie lifted my hand and pulled it to his chest. “Don’t be alarmed, darling. He simply wants to verify what I’ve already told him.”

  “Which is?”

  “That you’re the most enchanting creature in the world,” he smiled and lifted my fingers to his mouth.

  I bit my lip and glanced around. “Those are your words,” I said. “What if he doesn’t agree?”

  Freddie chuckled and stepped even closer, still holding my hand. “That is exactly why he’ll agree. But forgive me, I haven’t asked how you felt about the whole thing.”

  I forced a smile. “What whole thing?”

  He pulled me into his embrace and breathed into the hair at my temple. “Having me as a suitor. As a fiancé?”