1 Part Eight



"I'm not sure if I like to be referred to as a second job," Kit commented as soon as Silke opened her door.

Silke arched an eyebrow as she allowed him to come in. "What makes you think I was joking about that?"

"What would that be then?" Kit asked as he followed Silke into her kitchen.

She gestured to the sewing machine on top of the table. "Ta-da! I help Marguerite fixing some of the costumes. With the reopening happening, we have some costumes that need a new look to them."

"I never took you for a seamstress," He said as he sat across from her as she adjusted the fabric.

Silke grinned at him. "I dye the girl's hair too. No one dares to do it them self since Nina attempted to be blonde and ended up orange."

"Is your hair…?"

She shook her head, "All natural, if you could believe that. Not many people do."

"I believe you."

"Well you are different Monsieur Christian," Silke reminded him, still talking yet not looking up from her task.

"What about the name?" Kit asked, leaning forward. "Silke can not be your true name."

She snorted, "Sorry honey, but it's been that way since my mother penned it on my birth certificate."

"Truly?"

"Truly," Silke reinstated. "My mother was an extremely materialistic woman. The 'universe' was telling her to name me Satin though, and she started righting that down, but after the 'S' she changed it to Silk because Satin sounded too much like Satan. But the funny thing is that she meant to right my name S-I-L-K, but she has this extremely loopy writing and it turned out as S-I-L-K-E. So if I had been named Satin, I would probably Satine."

"That's kind of funny," Kit told her. "Have you ever heard of that book 'Love At The Moulin Rouge'?"

She racked her brain for a moment, "Oh yes, it's by that bohemian writer friend of Toulouse-Lautrec. Right? Um, Christian James."

He nodded, "Yes, that story 'inspired' my parents to marry. Their parents disapproved of the match, but after reading that book they decided that nothing mattered but love, so they named me after the writer."

"Interesting," Silke noted. "But still not understanding the funny part of it."

"You've never read it?"

"I tend to stay away from hooker-saved-by-love storylines," She admitted. "I've never even seen Pretty Woman."

"Well," Kit began, "Christian's true love, his courtesan, was named Satine. She was the Moulin Rouge's Sparkling Diamond."

Silke shook her head, "Not funny, creepy. I almost ended up at the Moulin Rouge."

"How?"

"Well I told you how I was from London, right?" At his nod, Silke continued. "I became a mistress at seventeen. There was this high school senior, who was richer than God, and he offered to support me if I slept with him. He gave me a gift of my choice each time I performed a favor for him. Well he had to go off to college, and he was going to study in Paris, and offered to bring me along with the ride. So I was going to audition at the Moulin Rouge, because I can be a showgirl. But, his father was setting up business in New York, and offered to bring me there. I was to be his 'assistant', but in truth his mistress. He paid me an assistant's wage every week. So I figured that the Rouge gig was a maybe, whereas his father's offer was a lot more stable. Beside, if he tired of me or had to get rid of me because his wife found out, then I could easily find a job in New York." She paused in her story to stop the machine and pull out the finished costume. "Which is what happened. It was through his dealings I met Harry and ended up at the Scarlet Tower."

Kit blinked, "So you slept with the son…and then slept with the father?"

"Yeah."

"That's…"

"Life," She stated matter-of-factly. "It's not as awful as it sounds, Kit. Kevin was almost like a friend to me, and his father, Denis was very kind. In fact, I prefer being a mistress than a prostitute. There's more stability, but then again there's not, depending on whether or not the wife finds out. I only left Denis for the Scarlet Tower because I love to sing and dance."

"Sorry, it just sounds like a horrible way to grow up."

Silke shrugged, "Some times were more horrible than other. But look…I am relatively getting by and I'm healthy right now. The only thing I want from life is stability."

"What about love?" His voice was barely audible.

Silke sighed as she shut down the sewing machine. "Christian…you've given me that. I always thought it was something I wouldn't miss because I never had, but it is splendid. Irreplaceable."

Kit gave her a tentative smile. "You make it sound fleeting."

"Everything is."

"It doesn't have to be," He pointed out.

Her smile was sad. "It has to be. I need stability. Neither you nor I alone could offer me that. I need my job."

"Why do you owe Harry?" Kit blurted out. "Henry mentioned you were gone for a year, does that have something to do with it?"

Silke averted his gaze. "It does." She held up a hand. "Don't ask me about it, because I don't want to talk about it."

"Were you pregnant?"

She laughed bitterly, "I wish. You have no idea how much I wish that was the case. I long for a family, but it's never to be, Kit. I can't afford it nor could I raise a child in the same way I was raised."

"Then what was it, Silke?" He stood up.

"Please, Christian, leave it be as something I don't want to talk about it," Silke stood up also, taking his hand in hers. "Can we leave it be? For now? Maybe one day I'll tell you…but I just can't right now."

Kit had this awful feeling he was being seduced into letting the subject drop, but he didn't want to fight with her. Not tonight. Not ever. "For tonight."

Silke smiled as she kissed him. "Let's retire, shall we?"

At his nod, she led him down the hall and into her bedroom.