I needed air. I felt as if I were suffocating. I decided to take the time to walk. Groves Street was a little bit further down the road. I did not care. Walking would do me good. And the dark streets of New York no longer frightened me for years, as I was used of it. I was still at Chrystie Street when I knew they were following me. Heels. After three and a half years of business with Bennett, I knew he would follow me. And by a woman, moreover. I knew the trick. Send a girl monitor to locate the best corner to surround you. I took another step towards the corner of the street and waited. And I jumped at her as if by accident. The Russian sorceress, wrinkled, decaying at that corner welcomed me with seven years of bad luck, I swear. I stammered excuses, in the rudimentary Russian that I knew, trying to pick up her scattered provisions. When I handed her a turnip that had fallen into the sewers, she insulted me more. A black woman stared at us from far away across the street, crossing the street with quick steps, clutching her bag. I felt the blood rising to my cheeks and I left Babouchka there with my seven years of misfortune.

I found the usual address on Groves Street. I thumped the three regular shots and the next four much more slowly. It took a moment. But a pair of suspicious eyes finally opened the peephole. Roz opened the door to detail my face and let me in a little reluctantly, as usual. Compared to the cold outside, the smoky room that awaited me made me feel like withing a womb. I breathed a sigh of relief, in spite of the black glare that Roz placed on me. She quickly resumed her conversation with the girl next to her. A red-haired girl with an naive expression, wearing a simple woolen dress. She had pink complexion and cheeks full of freckles. A newbie. I walked straight to the little bar on the right. On the stage, Lily finished her show, under the rhythmic music of the piano. It was her day off. And yet she was still there, with her beautiful naked breasts, dancing a vaudeville act. I saw her blonde platinum curls twirling in all directions. I sighed and took a stool at the deserted counter, ignoring the cheeky looks of the few regulars who looked at me. Polly was on duty tonight. She looked at the scene with a dreary air, cleaning her glasses. She glanced at me and put her apron back on her huge stomach and felt her black hair, drowned in brilliantine, with boredom and eventually came to see me, as always.

''Hey Matt, Polly said. What a pretty face. What happened to you, again?''

''My landlord finds that I do not pay the rent often enough. And I had some dirty customers. Oh god, if you were there ...''

She frowned and gave a worried expression as she examined my swollen eye. Sure enough, it did not look pretty. I must have looked like a skull, I imagine. She took a clean cloth and plunged it into the icy water. She twisted it with application. She looked at Lily, with her small, perspicacious eyes, placed on her huge face that would have surely shamed the moon and handed the cloth to me. I took it and applied it to my eye, with all the gratitude in the world.

"Serve me something strong, will you Polly?"

She drank a beer glass, without looking at me too much and put it on the pile.

''I'll add it to your credit score then, Matt.''

She went to the chalkboard, on the wall and under my name, erased the $ 2.50 to replace it with a $ 3, well rounded. Some girls stared at me. It was beginning to look like the price of a nice tenement. I shrugged my shoulders, concentrating on the grain of the wood, on the bar. Polly put a cheap bottle of whiskey in front of me with a little glass. I noticed a trace of a finger in it. With what I owe, I did not have much to say. I poured myself a glass and took the time to taste it slowly. The heat filled my throat. I poured another one, savoring each sip. Polly came to lean at the counter, in front of me, with her cloth in her hand, and leaned towards me, lowering her tone.

''This is the last time, Matt, she said. Maggie warned me not to do credit to you you anymore. On that matter, I begin to understand her. And she wants me to tell you that if she still sees you flirting with Lily, she will widen your smile on the other side. She told me to tell you that. These are her words, I swear. I have nothing to do with that. Otherwise, I lose my job. You know. I love you, kiddo, so be careful. You deal with enough shit like that, sweetie.''

She looked at me with a supportive air. I sighed and slipped 10 cents on the counter. That's all I had left. Polly, loyal to herself, returned to her bar. I did not know what that fat Maggie was thinking. Lily and I, it was ancient history. I glanced behind me. Maggie, dressed in a chic evening dress, was there, surrounded by her courtyard. I saw Lily go to join them and pass her arm affectionately around the corpulent shoulders of the boss who passed her arm on Lily's hips. It made me feel a little nauseous. But Lily was a grown up ans she was able to make her own choices. Nobody was paying attention to me. Which was all right with me. I continued sipping my glass for a while, in my solitude. I had been execrable with the Chagny, I knew it. The guilt remained in my throat. I thought of the child, with his terrified look of the picture, lost in the jungle that was New York. I thought of the mother and her words. She had compared me to a monster. And indeed, I felt like a monster at that moment. A monster unable to help anyone. Even myself. I was wondering what I was going to do. I was not able to pay my alcohol bill. Even less Bennett, within 3 days. I had no cigarettes left and I had consciously abandoned a child to his own fate. I poured myself another a drink and glanced at the bottle. I had already swallowed one third in less than an hour. I was lost in my thoughts when someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around to face Roz's hyena grin and her evil look.

''Are you retarded? I've been calling you for three times, now. There's a monkey asking you at the door. Did you give the fucking code to a monkey? Have you ever think what would happen if the police came and saw it strolling with us?''

I stared at her for a moment, in utter confusion. A gu y? I was already a bit drunk and I already imagined Roz struggling with a monkey dressed as a ballerina. Then I remembered that Roz was one of the most detestable people I knew and that she had forgotten where she came from. It was the kind to denigrate the blacks, the Italians and especially the Jews by saying that they robbed us of our job when, after all, she was also an Irish immigrant.

''Bah, if she has the code to enter and she seems to know where she is, you let her in. That's the rule. I did your job, so I know. And if the police come here ...''

I glanced quickly at Lily who rubbed herself with a seductive air at her pimp, in front of everyone.

"If the police would land here, it would have sooo many other reasons to arrest us, than black woman who comes here to have a drink. Believe me. And well... Isn't your job, to warn us before the Police blasts in so we can run away by the back door? "

She made an obscene gesture in my direction and spat in the direction of my glass that she missed, fortunately enough.

''You can talk and talk, Matty, Roz said. I do not let this kind of vermin come-''

''Mister Rivers?''

Roz and I turned around at the same time. I heard one or two girls, somewhere, giggle. The young woman had move forwards into the smoky room, as if nothing had happened and ignored the bouncer who had begun to insult her. I blench when I saw her. It was the woman I seemed to have frightened on Chrystie Street. Distress startled me. What was she doing here? She must have followed me for a while and seized the code. Had I let in someone who would call the police for indecent morals? She move forwards us with a smile. As if it were a simple tavern. As if she did not see what was going on all around her. I was both mortified and intrigued. I had to admit that at first glance she attracted me already. She was very pretty. His dress of pearl-gray taffeta seemed new and without being extravagant, fittd her very well. She was extraordinary calm. I was blushing.

Roz wanted Maggie to throw the intruder out but with an authoritative gesture, the boss returned her to the door and gave me a murderous look in terms of warning while Lily who had just noticed my presence. She looked with an horrified look, pointing her eye. I nodded to her, raising my shoulders. I'd settle that with her later. I returned to the pretty stranger. She watched the chalkboard carefully and smiled. Politely, she asked the barmaid if she could have a clean glass. She put $ 3.50 on the counter. Polly, surprised, glared at me. With hesitation, she put another glass in front of the young woman. She thanked her warmly and then stood beside me, waving her glass, with a friendly smile.

"Will you allow me to drink with you? She asked softly"

Polly and I looked at each other, completely surprised. It was not Bennett who was sending this girl. With a confused gesture, I invited her to sit on the free stool next to me and fill her glass. She lifted her skirt a little and sat elegantly, smiling warmly at me. She held out her hand at me.

''Victoire Saint-Louis.''

Taking her delicate hand, I noticed at once that her palms were a bit rough and that she was wearing a wedding ring on her finger. I think my heart sank a bit, at that moment. But it was not out of ordinary here. Far from there.

"You already know my name, I think."

She nodded and carried the glass to her lips and drank its contents in one go. She made a pout and leaned towards me, muttering, with an embarrassed air.

''I'm so sorry... Do you prefer to be called Sir or ... Miss?''

The question took my breath away. I opened my mouth and closed it again, like a fool. I didn't know what to say. Of course, it was enough to wear pants and short hair to be taken for a man. People didn't look. Nobody had time to look, in New York. And that was perfect, for me. I was taller than some men and my scar on the cheek made me look like a badass so no one ever noticed. Well... almost. And I did not want to be noticed and I was doing everything to keep it that way. But I was born with the body I had and even if being a man would have been one of my wildest dreams, we were still here, sitting in this bar where everyone was aware that I was like the other girls.

''Just call me Rivers. It will be easier.''

She nodded in approval and knocked her glass against mine. She took out her bag and pulled out a thick envelope of brown paper, which she placed on the counter.

''All right Rivers. Nice to meet you.''

She smiled and discreetly pushed the envelope toward me with a half-sorry air.

"I have come here to express our apologies for this past evening"

I frowned. I saw already the end of the dialogue, the eviction notice and the threats of Bennett, in this envelope. I was confused. This girl had just paid my credit note and apologized for what was going to happen.

''Excuses ?''

I took the envelope, unfastened it and lowered my head to discreetly ogle its contents. I retained myself to shout out of surprise loudly, and stared at Victoire with a completely stunned air, my mouth wide open. She beckoned me to be more discreet and, still bent, explained, as low as possible.

''Yes, an apology. And to hire you on a official basis. There's $ 150 in this envelope. You can count it, if you want. I think it's two and a half months of work, is that it?''

I said something inaudible. Something about my transaction's ways. That she owed me only half, to begin with and that we had to sign a contract. Something about coming to see me at my office tomorrow, when I will be sober and my swollen eye would be less painful. 150 bucks! But it was a fortune! What she was looking for it? I gave her a skeptical look and examined her attentively. True, there were black prosperous people in New York for at least 20 years, but she did not look immensely rich either. Her engagement ring was too simple. Her hat was cheap and the sole of her shoes was full of New York snowy mud. She had followed me on foot. But God, who was this girl? What was she getting at?

She continued with a much more serious tone, indifferent about my feelings. The change of conversation towards French put my senses on alert.

"So you'll have enough to, at least, find out who kidnapped my mistress's son, you think?" Or at least to know what happened?''

The stupefaction of the envelope content gave place to the utmost incomprehension. The young woman did not flinch at my reaction. A servant. The Chagny had sent me their servant, there, in my best-kept den. By putting at risk the girls who came to liberate themselves, for a few hours from the society that wanted them obedient or dead. Now, intruders knew the address. And it was my fault. How could these people afford a servant? It was said that the Viscount didn't had a penny, that they were staying in the Lower East Side and that his wife had to work. And what else? I put the envelope back on the counter, repressing the urge to check if the money was not fake and looked at the young woman with a serious grin.

''Look, Victoire. I think I explained the situation to Monsieur and Madame de Chagny. I ... It's not even a question of fees any more. I do not know or you have found such money but I am not a thief. If the kid is not at the NYJA ...''

The rest broke my heart but it was necessary to be straight forwards and as quickly as possible before the situation was getting worse. I took a deep breath and spoke as softly as possible.

"If he's not at the NYJA, I ... I do not really have any hope for him, Victoire. At best, he is somewhere in the streets or in a scabrous basement to prostitute himself. You know. It will last a while and then, if it does not die physically, he will not be the same anymore and he will not make old bones, believe me. At worst, he is no longer of this world. You imagine all the hope your mistress has given herself? I prefer to tell you right away. She's unlikely to find her son alive. "

She retained a spectacular calm. She even smiled at me. Sadly. I saw her eyes teared out and her lower lip shaking. And even there, she looked at me patiently, imploring me with gentleness. She loved this child. Even if it was not hers. She put her hand on mine and squeezed it. Her hand was a little rough but warm and firm. I felt a warmth in my chest that I had not felt for a long time.

''I understand Rivers. Do not worry, I understand. I know what you mean. Madame sold all her remaining jewels. Monsieur de Chagny does not know. He does not even know that Madame is still communicating with me. Émile is a sensitive, insightful and wise little boy. Very wise. He would never have done anything to displease his mother. Never. He loves her. It's not a fugue, all right? I know that. Just ... just do your best. That's all. We only want answers, all right? To Know what happened that night. We... we want to have a conclusion ... you ... you understand? To not know ... it's worse than anything. Please ell me you understand, Rivers. Please tell me that.''

I nodded silently. I was fascinated by the hand that always clasped on mine. Fascinated by the contrast between the warmth of this woman and the chilly beauty of Christine de Chagny in my office. Still, I understood better the strange reaction of the mother. Everything made sense.

I looked, helpless, around me, not knowing what to say. Behind me, the girls were having fun. The pianist had started a sort of waltz from a vaudeville on Broadway and some parodied the dance steps in a gleam that contrasted with the darkness of our conversation. Nobody looked at us. Except perhaps Roz, at the entrance. But I did not care. I turned to the young woman. She was waiting for an answer. I sighed heavily. I was going to regret it. I knew.

''OK. I... I take the case.''

A/N : So, dear readers... What do you think of Rivers? How do you like them?