Chapter 26 #3
Mother nods to Pearl. “She was damn near your momma till you were saying full monologues.”
At that, Pearl squeezes my arm. “I remember.”
“Slept in a drawer in her room. Remember that, Lula Mae?”
“I do.”
The pain of being left behind—of wondering if I’d ever see them again—rushes back, and a lump rises in my throat. The words spill out, nowhere near as dignified as I’d always planned. “You left me.”
“Pearl, dear, can you give us some—”
“No. Let her stay. She ought to hear it too, since you’ve convinced her I was living in a castle somewhere.”
“I said no such thing.”
“You left me,” I say again, tighter now.
“Lula,” Boone interjects. “Maybe you ought to take a breath.”
“Who are you?” Mother asks.
“He’s my friend. His name is Boone and this is Okee. This is my mother, Goldie Eld.”
Okee tips his hat. “How do you do, ma’am.”
Momma drinks them in slowly, from the toes of their boots to the brims of their hats. “Hello there, boys.”
Okee shuffles back a step, leaning against the wall.
Boone gives Mother a once-over and nods. “Ma’am.”
“That’s it? No tip of the hat? No kiss to the hand?” she teases. “Where’d all the charm go in this country?”
“Left it back on the horse,” Boone says. “Figured I wouldn’t need it in a whorehouse.”
Okee chokes out a laugh, then grips Boone’s shoulder. He looks between us. “You have catching up to do. Is there a place where Boone and I can make ourselves scarce?”
“I can see you to a room,” Pearl offers.
Mother jerks her chin toward the hall. “The Aces Suite,” she says.
Boone and Okee both stiffen at that.
Pearl notices first. “Is something wrong?”
Boone gives a short laugh. “Nothin’. Just a funny coincidence.”
Okee adds, “We have, on occasion, been referred to by a similar title.”
Mother looks them over once, unimpressed. “How charming. Goodbye now.”
Okee clears his throat, offers a tight smile and a departing nod, and lets Pearl corral him and Boone into the hall. The door shuts behind them with a final click.
The air in the room changes.
Mother’s eyes narrow—not cautious now, but cold.
“Don’t you look at me that way, girl,” she says.
“I did what I had to. If you come back expecting repentance because you spent ten years licking a wound, you will be disappointed. The fact you’re alive to hate me for it is proof enough I made the right choice. ”
“Do not pretend there were no other choices.”
Her mouth hardens. “Oh? I suppose the years have made you clairvoyant. You saw only that I sent you away and went on without you. You didn’t see what I was securing. I made certain you had a better life.”
“You abandoned me to secure your own.”
“How dare you.” Her voice turns sharp as cut glass. “I saved you from that house. It was only a matter of time before you became one of the Gemini’s girls. You were already well on your way.”
I let out a short, disbelieving laugh. Mother goes very still. Drawing in a breath, she remains poised. Her deceptive calm has always been her most dangerous quality.
“And now,” she says, voice gone quiet and deadly precise, “you return with men. Who are they?”
I meet her gaze and hold it. I could lie. I would lie, were it anyone else. But not here. Not now. Now I want it to hurt.
“They’re mine,” I say. I let the words settle, then add, deliberate as a knife sliding in, “My lovers.”
Then, to my utter irritation, the corner of her mouth lifts.
“Are they?” she says mildly. “How fortunate for you.”
I blink at her.
She goes on, as if we are discussing a new dress. “They’re handsome men, I’ll grant you that. You’ve done well for yourself.”
The heat that had flared in my chest falters. “That is all you have to say?”
“What would you like me to say?” she asks. “That I’m scandalized? You expected to hurt me?”
I say nothing.
“It doesn’t,” she finishes, much more satisfied with herself than I would like. The words land flat and heavy.
I go hollow.
“You misunderstand me, Lula Mae. If you had stayed,” she says, gesturing faintly to the house around us, “this would have been your life. Not for a season. Not for a whim. Forever. Men would have paid for you. Used you. And you would have had no say in it.”
Her eyes settle back on mine.
“I gave you a life where you could choose differently.” Her mouth tightens, just slightly. “If you wish to be a strumpet now,” she says, “that is your choice. And a choice is more than most women ever get.”
I tighten my jaw. This is what she does. She blurs lines, muddies waters. “What does that have to do with you leaving?”
She closes the distance between us and takes my hands in hers. “What matters now is that you’re here. If this is where you choose to be, dear, nothing would make me happier than being in your company.”
A numbness settles over me. Has she outwitted me again, or is this real? I had nearly forgotten what it was to grow in my mother’s shadow.
Hold fast to your convictions, woman, I remind myself. We have not been in the heart of this brothel for half an hour, and already I am drifting under the old enchantment of Goldie Eld. I draw my hands from hers.
“We are in a great deal of trouble, and I need your help.”