The Short Life of a Southern Belle

Chapter 9

Author's Note: Another chapter for you lovely people. Thank you to ihavenoname, guest and wildhorsewriting for your reviews :) I've used dialogue from the movie in this chapter. I've italicised it just to show that it is Tarantino's brilliance, not mine. Seriously he is a master of dialogue, not to mention a genius film-maker. His Aussie accent is also horribly funny, I say this as an Australian XD Enjoy guys!

I'd seen my brothers get into plenty o' fisticuffs when I was younger. But none o' their rough housin' could have prepared me for a Mandingo fight. Though my brothers fought with passion, they never set out to kill each other. For the Mandingos that was the aim of the game. Kill or be killed. So I sat there terrified as they wrestled, knowin' one was gonna die in front o' me.

"Calvin?" I whispered. He turned his head. I gave him a look o' pleadin', hopin' he would forgive the faux pas o' current attire, let me leave. But Candie put a finger to his lips, eyes stern and unforgivin'. I knew I wasn't goin' anywhere.

Candie turned back to the fight. How easily he went back to bein' engrossed. I couldn't understand. This wasn't a play or a concert. This was two men beatin' each other to death. How could he derive any fascination from it?

And how could he think this was a suitable punishment for me? All I'd done was throw on the wrong dress. Yes I'd embarrassed him, but surely my mistake didn't warrant a ticket to an execution. Yet I couldn't argue with Candie. Not in front o' Vessepi. That would only make him angrier. Despite what he was puttin' me through, I didn't want Candie angry with me.

I found a spot on the floor to concentrate on. I would have liked to close my eyes. Blocked my ears. But if Vessepi caught me doin' that, he would know I was no willin' spectator. I knew Candie wouldn't feel too kindly about bein' proven a liar. So the spot on the floor was my only option. It at least reduced the fighters to shadows in my peripheral.

Unfortunately it did little to mute the sounds of their grunts, the wet thud of fists hittin' flesh.

I almost wept at the sound o' the door, givin' me an excuse to turn my head and turn my full attention elsewhere. It was Moguy, accompanied by Coco and two strangers. A stern-faced black, and a fifty-ish lookin' man in a gray suit. Gray in the beard too, though his hair was still blond. He smiled in my direction.

I smiled back, out of sheer gratitude for their interruption. Not that it was much o' an interruption. I could hear the fight carryin' on behind me.

"Why do you want to get in the Mandingo business?" My head jerked at Candie's voice beside me. I was surprised by his lack o' hospitality. He didn't even turn his head to look at the newcomers. His gaze stayed glued on the fight. I turned back to the bearded gent. He was lookin' taken aback.

"You don't intend to allow your second to make the proper introductions?" he asked, speakin' with an accent.

I supposed it was German. Hadn't Candie been sayin' somethin' about a German? Whoever he was, Candie obviously didn't think he was worth budgin' for a handshake.

"Quit stallin' and answer the question," he said coldly.

I half-expected the German to complain o' impropriety. He was well within his rights. Instead he complied with Candie's demand.

"The awful truth? I'm bored and it seems like a good bit of fun."

I winced. How could a fight to the death be classed as a "good bit o' fun"? Yet these were magic words to Candie. He finally turned and gave a pleasant nod of approval.

"Come on over," he invited the German, "We got us a fight going on that's a good bit of fun."

The German made his way over. Moguy led his companion to the bar. I was a little intrigued. No slave would be offered a drink at the bar. So who exactly was this man? I felt Candie rise from the sofa and followed suit.

"Doctor Schultz," Candie shook the German's hand.

"What a rare pleasure," the German bowed, showin' no resentment for his earlier treatment, "And I might add, an honour."

"My wife Marie," Candie introduced me, gesturin' at my stomach with his free hand, "Junior."

It was a habit he'd gotten into, introducin' our unborn, makin' sure people knew I was pregnant. You couldn't tell just by lookin' at me yet.

"Ah ein Kind!" the German exclaimed, "Congrat..."

"Keep fightin' niggas!" Candie ordered.

"... ulations," the German finished, appearin' unruffled, "A pleasure to meet you Madame Candie."

He took my hand and bend to kiss it. A respectful peck, his beard light as a feather across my skin.

"The pleasure's all mine."

"Please take a seat Doctor," Candie indicated the sofa with a hint o' insistence.

No doubt he wanted to get back to the fight. I felt his hand on my arm. My heart beat fretfully. Candie obviously hadn't changed his mind about excusin' me. I joined him back on the sofa, with the Doctor seated to my left. My eyes resumed starin' at the patch o' floor.

The sound o' the Mandingos' grunts and fists seemed to intensify. Obviously the fight was reachin' its climax. Candie and Vessepi started callin' to their fighters. Vessepi in unintelligible Italian. I couldn't tell what he was sayin'. Unlike Candie, who I could understand perfectly.

"Come on, now, boy! It's a fight to the death! You either hit him or are you ain't? Big Fred, come on! Turn him around! Now! Come on, now! Use your strength!"

My stomach turned queasily. Candie sounded like the Devil tellin' Cain to kill Abel. I suppose that was an apt analogy. These poor souls were family as far as their skin was concerned. And they were bein' made to beat each other until...

SNAP!

The awful sound o' breakin' bone. A cry o' disappointment from Vessepi.

"Blind him black, boy! Blind him black!" Candie shouted.

I was sickened by how bloodthirsty he sounded. But the squelchin' sound of Big Fred gougin' his opponent's eyes was worse. I couldn't hide my terror, buryin' my face in my hands.

"Finish him," I heard Candie say amidst the screams of the blind man.

I heard a thud. Curiosity got the better o' me. I lowered my hands to see Big Fred pick a hammer off the ground. I looked away with horror, found myself starin' into the Doctor's face. Immediately I knew what he'd told Candie had been a lie. No man who thought Mandingo fightin' was a good bit o' fun would look as uncomfortable as this Doctor did, unable to disguise it in this moment any more than I could.

Thunk went the hammer. Luigi went silent. It was over.

"Arrivederci Luigi!" Candie crowed. He began congratulatin' his fighter, "You did a fine job. A real fine job. Wouldn't you say Madame Candie?"

I tore my gaze away from the Doctor, looked to Candie and his blood-covered champion.

"Yes," I forced the word from my lips along with a smile.

Candie nodded with approval. He turned to Moguy, gave him instructions to find Big Fred a room. I lowered my gaze to my lap, unable to prevent myself glimpsin' Luigi's cadaver in the process. The image burned in my mind. I felt physically ill.

"Madame Candie?"

It was the Doctor. I turned to him queasily.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

"I'm..." In my current state I found it too hard to lie, "No," I whispered.

The Doctor nodded in an empathetic sort o' way.

"Monsieur Candie," he called to my husband with priority in his voice, "Your wife seems unwell."

Candie turned away from Moguy.

"Is that right sugar?" he came to stand before me, "You ain't feelin' too good?"

I shook my head, hopin' the concern on his face was genuine, not just for show. He put the back o' his hand to my forehead.

"Probably too much sun today," he turned to the Doctor with a smile, "Five hour ride and she forgets to bring a hat. Won't make that mistake again will you sugar?"

His voice was borderin' stern. I suspected he was really referrin' to my mistake with the dress.

"No," I murmured contritely. I was never gonna wear Shee-ba's gowns again.

Candie stroked my cheek.

"I think you better have a little lie down."

I nodded, grateful he was finally feelin' merciful. Candie took my hand and I rose from the sofa.

"You don't mind if my wife takes her leave Doc?" he asked.

"Of course not," the German stood respectfully, "I would not wish her to endure any further discomfort."

Was it my imagination or was there a hint o' reproach in his voice? Candie's eyes narrowed, as if he was tryin' to work out the same thing. A disarmin' smile jumped on the Doctor's lips, as if to say no offense intended. Candie chose to believe him. He smiled back. No offense taken.

"Gentleman," he said.

"One tries," the Doctor said humbly. He turned to me, "Auf wiedersehen Madame Candie... Goodbye," he translated at my look o' confusion.

"Oh," I smiled despite my urgency to leave this room o' death. I couldn't fathom what this man was doin' here, if he couldn't stand Mandingo fightin'. Whatever the reason, I was grateful for his kindness and chose to farewell him in his own tongue, "Auf wiedersehen Doctor."

The Doctor smiled. I barely had time to register it as Candie cupped my face, rotatin' my head to look at him.

"I'll come check on you later," he said in an almost intimate voice.

I nodded, startled when he pulled my mouth to his for a kiss. Given we were in public, a kiss on the cheek would be more appropriate. It was a lingerin' kiss too. Candie tasted sharply o' the cigarette he'd been puffin' on. Usually I didn't mind that taste. But in my current state o' queasiness it made me want to gag. I was relieved when Candie pulled away.

He called for Coco to escort me to our room. I'd quite forgotten the girl's presence 'til he acknowledged her. One glimpse at her eyes and I could see how shaken she was.

"I'm sorry you had to watch that," I found myself sayin' as we walked the hallway.

She regarded me with wide flutterin' eyes.

"Da fight Madame Candie?"

I nodded. The girl was younger than me. Candie should have sent her from the room.

"It a'right Madame Candie," Coco pulled her lips in a brave smile, "No harm done."

I doubted that. But there was nothin' I could offer by way o' consolation. I couldn't wipe the memories from either o' our heads. We reached our destination. I dismissed her gently. I watched her walk away on lil heels, impressed by her courage to just get on with work. It seemed pathetic for me to carry on in the face o' that.

I lay on the bed and tried to think o' other things. The mysterious Doctor for instance, his equally mysterious companion. What was their real purpose here?

I wasn't sure how much time passed before Candie let himself into the room.

"How you feelin' sugar?"

I sat up.

"Better."

Candie smiled. He came over to the bed, cupped my cheek briefly before his hand slid down my neck to touch the front o' my dress. I tensed as he pinched the fabric between his fingers.

"Why you still in this pony get-up sugar?" he asked in a low voice.

I immediately swiped for the zip at the back.

"I was just about to take it off."

Unfortunately the abominable zip kept evadin' my grasp.

"Can't reach?" Candie said after watchin' me struggle for a good moment, "Get up cherie. I'll give you a hand."

I rose, presented my back to him. But instead o' unzippin' me, he ran his hands over my hips.

"Don't get me wrong cherie," he murmured in my ear, "You look good in this dress."

One o' his hands travelled up my front. The action excited me until his fingers reached my throat.

"Problem is you also look like a whore," Candie said sternly, "I don't want my wife lookin' like a whore. I want her lookin' like a Southern Belle. You understand me?"

"Yes!" I whimpered at the pressure o' his fingers, "I'm sorry Calvin."

"I know," Candie's voice turned gentle. He stroked my neck as his other hand clasped the zip, "And I forgive you."

He unzipped me in one stroke, tugged the dress from my body.

"Come sit in my lap lil dove."

I followed him over to the bed, now clothed in nothin' but my undergarments.

"The club has two points o' income cherie," Candie cradled me in his arms like a child, "Ponies and Mandingos. If a person ain't interested in either, they got no business bein' here. In short, you got no interest bein' here. Just like you got no interest wearin' that pony dress. You belong in Candieland. I hope recent events has made you see that."

I nodded, sincerely regrettin' the moment I'd begged to come along.

"Good girl," Candie stroked my hair, "We'll go home tomorrow, how 'bout that?"

"That sounds wonderful."

Truthfully I wished we could leave right this minute. But it was night and Candie had plans. He'd invited the German to dine with him in the club's restaurant. The German's companion too. He wasn't a slave as it turned out. He was a free man and the German's offsider o' sorts.

"The jokers wanna pay twelve thousand for one o' my niggas," Candie informed me excitedly, "Twelve thousand dollars!" he laughed, "I'll gladly treat them a meal for that kind o' investment."

I was rather confused hearin' this. Why would the Doctor fork out so much money if he couldn't stomach Mandingo fightin'? It didn't make sense but I supposed it was good news for Candie. In any case the topic o' eatin' filled me with distaste. I was still too squeamish from the fight.

"Is it alright if I missed this dinner?" I ventured timidly, "It's just I don't have much o' an appetite, and I am rather tired. I think I really did have too sun today..."

I was relieved when Candie accepted my excuses with goodwill. It was only a business dinner. My presence wasn't required. He would pass on my apologies to the German. I thanked him with a kiss.

"It won't be a long dinner will it?"

I didn't like the idea o' bein' cooped up on my own all night. I wanted Candie with me.

"Just a main and desert I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

I took him at his word. He freshened up, kissed me goodbye and left. I turned to the book I'd brought to pass the time. The Count of Monte Cristo. I inched through it at my regular snail's pace 'til my eyelids grew heavy. I put the book to one side and fell asleep. I don't know if it was the fault o' a dog barkin' in the street, promptin' me to dream about poor Charlemagne's demise, the same dream I had every so often.

I woke up in the dark, gropin' for Candie for comfort only to find he wasn't there. When I calmed down, I checked the clock. It was one in the mornin'. So where was Candie? Surely the dinner couldn't have run this long into the night.

He's with her. The thought sliced me like a knife. He's somewhere with her.

I lay awake with that awful suggestion burrowin' deeper and deeper 'til exhaustion closed my eyes. I was roused by the sound o' splashin' water. I sat up, rubbin' my eyes.

"Calvin?" I called uncertainly.

"Mornin' kitten!" his voice drifted from the bathroom.

Shortly he appeared, freshly dressed, doin' up the final button o' his waistcoat. He sat on the edge o' the bed and smilingly touched my cheek.

"I didn't hear you come in last night," I said quietly.

Did his smile flicker? If it did he fixed it quickly.

"O' course you didn't," he told me in an amused voice, "You were out like a log."

I glanced at his side o' the bed. The sheet was still neatly tucked in at the side and his pillow lacked any indent o' his head. He hadn't slept here at all. He had slept somewhere else. With someone else.

I turned and stared heartbrokenly into his smilin' face.

He was a liar, and I was a goddamn fool.

To be continued...

Poor Marie. She's realised that Candie isn't the perfect man she thought he was. Which means drama ahead so stay tuned :)