Hey guys! Thanks for all of the new faves and follows, and all of this traffic! I am honestly floored by how many people want this to keep going. As a thank you, here's the new chapter! I know a lot of you are just visiting, and that's great, but I really love it when people review to give me constructive criticism, or just to tell me how I'm doing with this story. It makes my day to hear other people's feedback and comments!
Enjoy the chapter!
Chapter 8
Madame Maxine's was located in what Kate's father referred to as the "Deep South of Manhattan." Geographically, the "Deep South" truly was near the southernmost part of Manhattan island, and economically, the neighborhood only supported the dregs of society. Kate's father had told her some stories about the neighborhood when he had had to visit it in order to interview eyewitnesses to a robbery that had occurred on the southern side of Houston Street. When he had returned home that day, he was thoroughly shaken by some of the things he had seen; when Kate pressed for details, he ignored her and walked up to his study.
Kate hoped that her haggard appearance would protect her from the worst treatment she could receive in this neighborhood; she knew that in her current state, with her ripped dress, tired eyes, and messy hair, she blended right in with the Deep South's residents. Luckily or unluckily for her, she did blend in with the crowd as she looked for 350 West Broadway.
As she walked, discreetly looking at street signs to make sure she was going the right way, Kate understood why her father didn't tell her anything about what life was really like in the Deep South of Manhattan. She saw countless children curled up in the gutters, starving to death. The air smelled like sewage, and she saw a burst pipe that had emerged from underground spewing brackish water into the street. Children were dancing and playing in this fountain of sorts, which Kate would have found cute if she didn't already know that that water was full of germs, and that all of them would most likely get sick and die in a few weeks from playing in it. She wanted to tell them to get out of there, but she knew that if she opened her mouth, her high-class accent would give her away.
She saw women with faces caked in makeup patrolling the streets purposefully, as if they were on the hunt for prey. Kate figured that one of them might be able to point her towards Madame Maxine's, but she decided not to ask, and pretended that she knew exactly where she was going. If she asked one of the girls, she knew that she might get false directions or a slap in the face, and Kate was not about to take that risk. She never noticed that one of those girls had turned around pointedly as she passed.
A drunk man stumbled out of an alleyway that smelled like piss, and made a grab for Kate's skirt. She nimbly jumped out of the way and kept moving, but he just grunted with mild frustration and lunged at her again. Once again, Kate managed to evade him, and she was thankful that alcohol had made the man clumsy as he stumbled and fell face-first into a pile of manure that could have been made by either a human or a horse. Kate ran as fast as her tired and hungry legs could carry her, and the sight of the West Broadway street sign in front of her felt like divine salvation.
Since Kate was quietly inspecting house numbers in order to find the number 350, she didn't notice the other girl striding purposefully behind her until a clammy hand clamped down on her shoulder. Eyes wide with fear, Kate turned around to face a prostitute, dressed in an outfit that barely covered her chest and legs, but appeared to be made out of luxurious materials; the skirt looked like it could have been sewn out of pale pink silk, while the matching top looked almost no different than some of Kate's undergarments back home. Seeing such luxuries being so openly displayed in the dregs of Manhattan surprised Kate greatly.
"Why'd you turn down Mr. Cooper?" the girl asked disdainfully. Kate assumed that the girl was talking about the drunk man who fell in a pile of shit.
"I-I wasn't interested," Kate replied nervously.
"He's such a bum," the girl remarked, shaking her head full of hastily piled up blonde curls. "Honestly, I've made quite a pretty penny offa him in the past. He'll pay you ten bucks for just a kiss or five. Easy money."
"As I said before," Kate replied, "I wasn't interested."
"Must be your first day at work," the girl said, raising her eyebrows. "Any workin' girl with any experience knows she can't be choosy. I know he looks like a dog, but he pays like a saint."
"I-I'm not working," Kate replied. "I'm looking for 350 West Broadway."
"So you're not working, but you're looking for work," the other girl teased. Kate blushed in embarrassment. "Lucky for you, I know exactly where that is. It happens to be my office." She quickly linked arms with Kate, to Kate's quiet protest, and turned around, Kate stumbling to keep up with her fast pace.
"So tell me, what's your name, doll? I've never seen you around her before."
Kate weighed her options for a moment before deciding to say, "Kate."
"Just Kate?"
"Just Kate," Kate hastily replied.
"Charlotte le Rouge," the girl greeted in a perfect French accent with a flick of her wrists. "You know," she commented, switching back to her American accent, "Charlotte rhymes with 'harlot'. Ha!"
Kate didn't find that particularly funny.
"So, Kate, where ya from? You don't sound like you're from here."
"I'm from…right around Duane Street," Kate replied, praying that Charlotte wouldn't pry any further. The other girl was still strong-arming her down the street, and Kate's brain was going in and out of focus. She needed food.
"Ooh, Duane Street. I started working there when I was about fourteen. Those newsboys were some of my favorite customers!" Charlotte stated, making Kate blush again. "Hey, no need to be embarrassed; even newsboys gotta release their urges at some point, eh? Must be awful living in a crowded bunkhouse with other boys, never getting any kinda release whatsoever. When I was a girl just startin' out, they were about my age so it didn't feel too weird turning tricks on 'em, and damn, do I want to see them again sometimes, especially that Higgins boy. As I'm sure you know, Kate, you never ever forget your first."
"So, why did you leave if you…enjoyed their company so much?" Kate asked, trying to get over the fact that there were probably a lot of germs seeping into her arm from Charlotte's, and her own embarrassment with the entire situation. She really hoped that she didn't know whoever the Higgins boy was; it would be an embarrassing situation if she knew the boy responsible for de-flowering a prostitute that she had just met.
"Because Maxine is an amazing boss, that's why!" Charlotte replied. "I'd much rather have a woman boss than a man in our profession; isn't that why you want to find her place?"
"Um, yes, right," Kate lied. "Exactly." She had to think up something more than that; otherwise, Charlotte would see right through her. "I heard that she treats her workers fairly, and that many customers give her favors."
"Damn right they do. We get some pretty good stuff from all the tips our wealthier clientele give us." Kate started to shake with nerves. Had Charlotte figured her out? She probably had; Kate knew that she hadn't made it difficult to do so. Her accent gave her away. She turned her red face to the ground and didn't reply.
"Okay, you're clearly new to this since you're so embarrassed about everything. Talk to Maxine; she'll set you up with an easy client to start out with, I'm sure. Oh, here we are!" Charlotte squeezed Kate's arm and pointed to a building that, on the outside, looked like a light breeze could blow it over. Kate did not feel comfortable even walking near it, but Charlotte dragged her up the steps anyway. As soon as Charlotte rang the bell in front of the door, another prostitute opened the door, and Charlotte dropped Kate's arm as the latter entered the infamous brothel for the first time, mouth dropping open in shock.
It was clear to Kate immediately that the shabby exterior was a well-planned façade; the inside of the building didn't look much different to Kate than her friend Julia Gould's sitting room. The walls were covered in luxurious deep red wallpaper with patterns of twisting vines, and plush couches were tastefully placed at various places in the spacious room; most were close to the stairs, but a few were tucked away in corners. There were tables in front of a few of the couches; at one of them, one prostitute was teaching two other girls how to pour tea properly, and at another, three girls were sewing patterns into silk handkerchiefs. Kate almost felt like she was back home; the only thing breaking that illusion was the fact that she knew that all of these girls sold their bodies for money, which saddened her. However, she couldn't help but slightly smile her thanks to Kloppman. Even though this was a brothel, it did remind her of the life that she was used to, and she was suddenly sure that Kloppman knew the building's secret.
"What?" Charlotte snarkily snapped Kate out of her reverie. "Just because our house looks rotten on the outside doesn't mean it isn't rich on the inside. Just like you, I'd suspect, right Kate?"
"Yes," Kate replied sadly, "I'm afraid I didn't do an excellent job of concealing which rung on the society ladder I belong to."
"But why is a rich girl like you turning to prostitution?" Charlotte asked as she and Kate walked over to a couch.
"I'm not," Kate stated, relieved that she didn't have to lie anymore. "The breakfast here came highly recommended, and I have some spare change." She then pulled the coins that Kloppman had given her out of where she had concealed them in her shoe. "Will this much change buy me some smoked salmon and toast with cream cheese?"
Charlotte counted the money out carefully before smiling, "It should be just enough. You're lucky. I'll go talk to the cook, but you still haven't answered my question."
"I thought I had," Kate raised an eyebrow.
"Not really," Charlotte replied. "What I really want to know, Kate, is what the hell a rich girl like you is doing in this part of the city. There must be more to this story than just getting some breakfast."
"I need to speak with Madame Maxine, as quickly as possible," Kate confessed. "I'm sure you know that high-class women are being kidnapped. Some of them are some of my closest friends, and I think I'm on the kidnappers' hit list. I was hoping that Madame Maxine would know something about what's going on because, as you know, many secrets are revealed in a brothel. Also, Kloppman recommended that I come here for the smoked salmon…"
"Did I hear someone say Kloppman?" a woman asked from the top of the staircase, and Kate almost jumped off of the couch.
"I'll go talk to the cook now," Charlotte whispered, and in a wink, she started to head towards the kitchen.
Madame Maxine was an incredibly imposing figure in the flesh. Kate placed her age at around mid-50s, with curly dark red hair done up in a complicated bun. Her dress was dark purple, and clearly meant to show off her breasts and her hourglass figure. Even though she was dressed like one of her prostitutes, she radiated power and confidence. Shamefully, Kate almost wished that she could do the same.
"I did," Kate replied hesitantly.
"He's a dear friend of mine," Maxine almost simpered. "We had some good times together a while back. He was so funny and charming," she sighed, almost reverently. "We still keep in touch to this day, but I haven't actually seen him in years! How is he, dear?"
"He-he's fine," Kate replied. "He's running the lodging house, and he's doing an excellent job."
"That's good to hear. Feel free to tell him that he's free to come by after he retires. I'll leave my schedule open for him."
"That…sounds wonderful!" Kate replied.
"I trust you're not looking for work? You seem too high-class for that. Did you want one of my girls? I know, such a taboo thing to ask, but I've seen clients like that before: wealthy women who want to try something new, cross new boundaries and all that. If you were going to do that, I'd recommend Alexandra; she always gets excited when female clients arrive…"
"I…I'm not looking for those kinds of services," Kate shifted uncomfortably in her chair. No one had ever talked about sexuality with her so frankly before, and if she was being honest, she knew next to nothing about it. She understood that it was based on desire for someone, usually of the opposite sex, but she had never desired to do anything to anyone. She wondered if she ever would.
"Then why are you here, darling?" Maxine asked.
"Well," Kate muttered, "Kloppman recommended your smoked salmon with cream cheese on toast."
Maxine laughed, a loud hearty laugh that only gave Kate chills instead of making her want to join in.
"Come now, dearie, you don't just come to a brothel for breakfast. If you're not here for sex, then why are you here?"
"I need information," Kate blurted out as Charlotte returned with her food, and quickly scampered off to talk with her friends. It looked delicious; the toast was golden brown, and the cream cheese was starting to melt into the bread. All of it was topped with what was clearly recently smoked salmon. None of it looked cheap. Kate's mouth started to water.
"On what?" Maxine asked as Kate took a large bite of her first piece of toast. The cream cheese was perfectly smooth and flavorful, and it complemented the smokiness of the salmon incredibly well. The toast added extra crunch to the meal. When Kate finished her breakfast and returned from gourmet heaven, she explained her situation to the older woman.
"I see," Maxine said after Kate finished, "Well, dear, I might have an answer to where your friends are, but it's a long shot."
"I'll take any shot at this point," Kate replied seriously.
"There's a new brothel in Brooklyn that's become incredibly popular in recent weeks. It's called the Golden Cat. Some of my girls do reconnaissance missions for me to check on our competition, and the ones that just got back from the Golden Cat two days ago were displeased to discover that a large portion of our wealthier donors are dropping their coins, and their pants, there. We don't know why it's become so popular; from what we've heard from our clients who've been there in the past, their whores don't know how to turn a trick any more than I know how to use a hammer."
Kate's eyes lit up with recognition. "There were golden cats left on the girls' beds!" she exclaimed. "My friends might be in there."
"Dear, I doubt it; as I said, the Golden Cat is a shitty brothel. Also, no half-decent criminal is just going to leave such a blatant clue on the victim's bed where police can just skip into a room and find it!"
"That's true," Kate mused, "but regardless, that brothel is somehow involved with my friends. Do you know where it is?"
"Indeed I do, but be careful, dear. You won't want to be walking into that neighborhood alone and lost, like you surely were in mine. You're lucky that Charlotte found you."
"I know," Kate replied sincerely, "and if there's anything I can do to help…"
"Love," Maxine grinned, "I don't need your charity. All I would want you to do for me, however, is send Kloppie my regards and this," She pulled out a white handkerchief and kissed it. After she had stained the cloth, she passed it to Kate, who carefully folded it and hid it in her neckline.
"Holding things in your brassiere," Maxine grinned. "We'll make a whore out of you yet, dear. Charlotte," she called, and the blonde girl scampered to her mistress's side, "take this girl home."
"Of course, Madame," Charlotte nodded. "Come along, Kate, we must be going."
"Hang on," Kate said, "Madame, you said something about an address. Can you…?"
"Oh dearie, even though I hate other brothels, I never just give people their information willy-nilly. For all I know, you're working with the police to root us out! Now, I know you're not, but I must be cautious. I'll send a boy in a couple of days who can take you to the Cat, but you'll need to tell me where you are currently residing."
"You may have already guessed this, but I live with the newsboys on 212 Duane Street, in the room in the attic." When she mentioned her room, Kate saw Madame Maxine's face turn wistful.
"I remember that room," she smiled. Kate didn't really want to know what she remembered doing in there with…She didn't want to finish that thought. "As it so happens, I know someone who knows someone who owes him a favor, and this young man undoubtedly knows how to get from Duane Street to the Cat. I'll make sure that my contact knows to send him over to you."
"Thank you so much!" Kate exclaimed joyfully. "Are you sure there's nothing I can do to help you?"
"No, dear," Maxine grinned, "I'm perfectly capable of running this business myself. I wish you the best of luck in your search!"
"Thank you!" Kate called as Charlotte led her out of the brothel. Even though she knew that Maxine had said no charity, Kate knew that she would try to find some way to pay the older woman back for her kindness.
"So, Charlotte," Kate asked as a thought jumped to her mind. Perhaps it was because she had just been inside a brothel, but she was feeling a little mischievous. No, she thought, this is idle curiosity. "Who is the Higgins boy? I don't know any last names, and I was just wondering…"
"Who my first man was?" Charlotte grinned mischievously, and Kate blushed with embarrassment. "No need to be embarrassed!" Charlotte exclaimed, playfully swatting her new friend on the arm. "It's perfectly normal for people to be interested in who's slept with whom. You're just lucky that I'm willing to share."
"All right," Kate grinned, starting to let her guard down, "who was it?"
"Well, he couldn't have been sweeter to me. We were both fourteen when we first did it, so that was about three years ago."
"So you're my age then!" Kate interjected. "How delightful to have a new friend close in age."
"Indeed," Charlotte smiled back, and then continued on with her tale. "Anyway, his name was…" She giggled, "I can't, it's too funny! Such a big name for such a little man. But what a man he was, even back then."
"What was his name?" The suspense was starting to eat at Kate like a hungry caterpillar on a leaf.
"His name was…hee hee…Anthony!" Charlotte exclaimed, trying not to burst into peals of laughter. "He had a bit of a rough exterior, but trust me dear, any good man, when he jumps into bed with you, sheds that façade and shows you his true colors. And he did just that. Even though we were both clumsy and inexperienced, that was one of the best experiences of my life. Those Italians…" she reminisced, "they know what they're doing in the sack. All of my favorite clients have been Italian, in fact."
"But what was his newsie name? I don't know anyone named Anthony Higgins!" Kate protested. "And wait, Higgins is an Irish name, but you said he was Italian?"
Charlotte only smiled. "I've told you everything I know," she smiled sweetly, "and in case you're wondering, I've moved on from him. But he was my first love, and I'll never forget that."
"I don't think I've ever been in love," Kate stated sadly, "but you make it sound wonderful."
"That's because it is," Charlotte smiled.
"How will I know when I've found it?"
"Trust me, you'll know."
"Thank you, Charlotte," Kate smiled.
"Anything for a friend!" Charlotte grinned. "Now, this is Duane Street. If you follow the house numbers, you'll get to 212. Think you can take it from here?"
"Yes," Kate replied, "I think I can."
"Well then, have a lovely day, and be sure to come by Maxine's to chat! I'd love to see you again."
"I hope to come back and see you, too!" Kate replied. "I'll have to tell you what happens with my search!"
"I can't wait to find out!" Charlotte called as she headed back towards the Deep South of Manhattan. As soon as she vanished, Kate started heading home, thinking over the mystery of who Anthony Higgins was. If he was able to make a prostitute fall in love with him, who knew what kinds of questions he might be able to help her answer?
