Author Note: Thanks to all my reviewers! I appreciate them so much. :):)
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing conflabbit!
After having successfully avoided Miss Velvadine and Lady for almost a full twenty four hours, Lottie felt her stomach drop as there was a pounding on her bedroom door. It was a little after twelve in the afternoon the following day, and Lottie had kept herself in her room, straightening up and attempting to make the closet-like room a little homier. Lottie looked at the door apprehensively, her stomach full of butterflies. She began going through all the possible excuses in her mind, thinking of anything that might have to do with Spot's lack of payment. Wringing her hands, Lottie made her way across the room and felt as if she might pass out. Her hand shook as she turned the knob slowly and felt her skin go cold as Miss Velvadine herself stood there, glaring down at Lottie with a look that could most definitely kill.
Miss Velvadine was an interesting woman. She had the kind of look that had once been beautiful, but after years and years of smoking, drinking, and an unhealthy amount of sex, her once flawless skin now showed creases and wrinkles, her once flowing hair now was natty and frayed, and her body was rail-thin, always adorning a corset to boost what saggy cleavage she had, a look truly repulsive and inappropriate. She stood there, a long cigarette hanging from her rouge lips, smoky black liner making her look fierce and brittle, her scraggly hair piled high on her bobbling head. Upon setting her glower on Lottie, Miss Velvadine took her cigarette from her mouth and blew the smoke square in Lottie's face, causing her eyes to tear.
"Do you need something?" Lottie asked, trying her best to act nonchalant but her voice only came out in a scratchy whisper. Miss Velvadine curled her lip back in a truly wicked way, making Lottie's look of innocence falter slightly.
"Lottie," Miss Velvadine said her voice deep and smooth. "Don't just stand there…where are your manners, girl? Do invite me in."
Lottie stood aside and Miss Velvadine pushed passed her, her eyes glowering and her scent of smoke lingering in Lottie's nostrils. Turning around, Lottie watched Miss Velvadine's every move, trying her best to remain calm. The very presence of the sinister woman gave Lottie chills and a lump rise in her throat. She took several deep breaths, wringing her hands together like she did so many times.
"Can…can I help you Miss Velvadine?" Lottie asked again, trying the innocent act. Her large eyes were wide and anxious, trying desperately to hide the anguish and fear. What would she say? What could she say? That she had denied her first client? That was a good amount of money she'd thrown away so very easily. An amount of money that wouldn't be forgiven so easily.
Miss Velvadine turned on Lottie, her anger quite evident. She'd abandoned the sly act, a fury burning so powerfully in her dull black eyes. Lottie recoiled slightly, the hairs on her neck standing straight up. She swallowed hard.
"Where is it girl? Where's the money?" Miss Velvadine began to search the room, throwing open drawers and ripping apart bed sheets, undoing all of Lottie's hard work that morning. Feeling the anger boil inside of her, Lottie bit her tongue.
"What…what are you talking about?" Lottie backed up from Miss Velvadine, who was advancing on her rapidly. The smell enough of Miss Velvadine made Lottie feel sick.
"The money!" Miss Velvadine's booming voice pierced Lottie's ears. "The bloody payment from last night! Spot is a generous donator for such a poor income, where's the fucking money? I don't have time for this! You should have given it to me as soon as you returned…don't think I'm not onto you, you're not some princess, Lottie. You don't keep the pay! Hand it over!"
Lottie hesitated, unsure of what she was going to say and unsure of what Miss Velvadine would do exactly. What if she threw her out? Lottie had no where to go! At least at the Widow's Rose she had a roof over her head and a flimsy meal here or there. She wouldn't survive on the streets. Panic began to bubble inside of her.
"I—I," Lottie stammered, trying to recover herself. "Uh…Spot…I went last night, I did…he…he…erm…"
"He what?" Miss Velvadine came closer to Lottie, her eyes burning holes into Lottie's own. Miss Velvadine's cigarette was dangerously close to Lottie's bare forearm.
"He was tired," Lottie squeaked out, the first thing coming to mind. "He…told…he told me he had a bad…um…headache. His head was hurting him bad. I…I stayed a few minutes, but he was…really bad. He said he's sorry he didn't pay…sales…sales weren't so good. He…says…thanks anyways though."
Lottie bit her lip, looking up at the eerie woman peering down at her. Miss Velvadine didn't seem to buy it, but she couldn't exactly prove otherwise. She narrowed her eyes suspiciously, taking a long drag on the cigarette.
"You know what happens to girls around here who don't bring home their pay Lottie?" It was more of a statement than a question, a warning. Lottie shook her head, looking down at her feet briefly before staring directly into Miss Velvadine's eyes.
"They work," Miss Velvadine growled. "Hard. They don't get meals, and I work them until their hands bleed and they're crying for their dead mothers. That's what happens to girls who don't bring home pay. I'm only going to say this once girl, so listen good."
Lottie's stare didn't falter, and it took all the courage she had to continue looking Miss Velvadine in the eye. Her throat was burning and that cigarette was too close to her own wrist.
"Don'tLet. It. Happen. Again. You're not to have meals for this week; you will find your own food." Miss Velvadine's voice was cold and hard, biting right through Lottie. "You are to clean up the dining room after breakfast, lunch, and dinner. You are to scrub the pots and pans, and sweep the living quarters of the Widow's Rose. I will work you until you know what payment means. Payment, Miss Lottie Crew, payment around here is your ticket to living. No pay, no nothing. I'll work you until I feel you get the message. And from now on, you give your pay to me, the second you return."
Lottie nodded, feeling numb and oddly disoriented. She didn't comprehend the words coming out of the old bat's mouth.
"Spot Conlon is a regular client," Miss Velvadine growled, grabbing Lottie's wrist and smirking evilly at her. Her grip was tight, and Lottie feared she'd snap her wrist off. She winced in pain. "Spice is pre-occupied with another client for a few weeks, you will be her replacement. You will give Spot Conlon whatever he wants, and don't let this happen again." Her grip was dangerously tight and Lottie bit her tongue hard to keep from crying out. Miss Velvadine raised Lottie's fist higher, quirking an eyebrow.
"Oh, and another thing. This should teach you to never mess with clients, eh?" The burning cigarette dangling from Miss Velvadine's free hand met with Lottie's sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist, causing the scream that had been crawling up Lottie's throat to pour out, piercing the afternoon like a thousand knives.
A salty tear stung the burn on Lottie's wrist as she hovered over the water basin, biting her lip and trying her best to not cry out in pain. The curtains were drawn on the window leading out to the fire escape, and the hot afternoon sun warmed Lottie's back. Her wrist was throbbing—the pain had yet to cease any. Her eyes were blurry and burned with tears she struggled to keep back. A hate so deep in passion burned within her, just dying to bubble out of her and unleash its dark power. But Lottie refused to give Miss Velvadine any satisfaction. She hadn't meant to scream, and she wished she hadn't—she didn't want to show any weakness she had. Lottie had to be strong. She knew she needed to be a survivor, there wasn't any other choice. She was a fighter. And she'd be damned if she didn't keep fighting.
Gently dabbing the cold rag to the cigarette burn on the inside of her right wrist, Lottie winced and bit her tongue hard, filling her mouth fill up with the metallic taste of blood. She looked away, out the window, into the blue sky wishing she could just escape from everything. She had never felt so trapped in all her life. She felt like there were chains locking her down, tormenting her, their prisoner, cutting deep into her soul, sucking the life out of everything. The fervor she had to get out of New York burned all the more fiercely.
Pumping the water from the spout over the basin, Lottie closed her eyes and let the coldness run over her burn. She was going to have that scar her whole life, a reminder of everything going on then, and no matter how hard she would try, she would never forget The Widow's Rose. It was permanent—part of her now, no matter how much the thought sickened her.
How had her life come to this? She'd lived at The Widow's Rose for barely a week, and already she was drowning. And yet only a year ago she had been living fine. She had had a roof over her head, hot meals to nourish her, a loving mother who protected and cared for her, and a father who worked hard for this family. And yet, in a blink of an eye everything was lost. Her father had been a liar all his life. One day, he just up and left Lottie and her mother with a woman by the name of Fleur Baconia, a French actress he'd been having an on-off affair with ever since his business trip to Paris years ago. Lottie had never seen her mother in more pain. While Lottie had barely known her father, Mrs. Crewe had loved him dearly. He was handsome and spirited, with charisma and sparkling blue eyes. But he'd been secretive and always had a wondering eye.
Lottie's mother, Isabel Marolli, was beautiful, which had first caught Mr. Crewe's eye. She had long, flowing dark locks and chocolate eyes. A true beauty who came to America from Italy when she was Lottie's age, and Lottie had always admired her mother. Mr. Crewe had first met Isabel three months after the Marolli family came to America and he'd fallen head over heels in love. He was two years her senior and the two married within two months of courting. Lottie had been born a year later, her mother seventeen and her father nineteen. They were young, but Mr. Crewe was from a well to-do family and had come from quite a fortune. Lottie had grown up with her mother's love strong yet gentle and her father's love not quite there.
When Mr. Crewe had deserted the Crewe women, Isabel was heart broken. While their marriage had been slowly deteriorating for years, she couldn't help but feel betrayed. Immediately Isabel and Lottie struggled for money. Lottie was taken out of schooling and the two soon found work cleaning a local school. They barely made their way but Isabel refused to move from their home—she wanted Lottie to grow up in a house she'd always feel at home. But then Isabel had fallen ill. Pneumonia. And everything just went downhill from there. Isabel died two months after she'd been diagnosed. And then Lottie was on her own. No family, no nothing. She refused to be put in an orphanage. Finding work at a dodgy cloth store, she'd sleep where she found suitable and managed to live that way for close to a year before Miss Velvadine had come along and snatched her up.
Lottie stopped feeling sorry for herself. Throwing pity parties wouldn't get her anywhere. What was done was done, what had happened had happened. There was absolutely nothing she could do about the past—she could only live for tomorrow, for a brighter day, the future. That hope she hung on to kept her alive. She was strong. She wouldn't break—if she accomplished nothing in this world, she wanted to at least survive it.
Bandaging her burn, Lottie bit her lip and gazed out the window, her long tendrils of dark curls laying about her shoulders and cascading down her back. She tried to forget about the pain in her wrist, but it still throbbed energetically. A soft breeze blew through the open window and Lottie closed her eyes, imagining she had wings and could fly away into the sun and just disappear forever. A burning sensation ached in her throat but she swallowed firmly. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't give the world that satisfaction. She wouldn't let the world know it was breaking her.
"What are you doing?"
Lottie's eyes flew open and she jumped, the hairs on her back standing up. Turning around, she saw a girl standing in the doorway of the washroom, one eyebrow raised. Lottie shivered, having thought no one was around. Usually around this time on a Sunday the Widow's Rose was dead, and only a select few had to occupy customers. The girls of the Widow's Rose took Sunday as their day to themselves, a day to go into the city and try and erase everything they left the moment they stepped into the sunlight. But there she was—a girl a bit older than Lottie herself, standing there, looking at Lottie curiously.
"Nothing," Lottie said, not quite sure what else to say. She looked at the girl who looked back. Lottie had never seen her before—having only been at the Widow's Rose a short time she had not had time to socialize. The girl was average height—taller than Lottie but average size. She had dirty blonde hair, the kind of hair that really didn't have a color. It was long and straggly, falling past her shoulders and down her back. She had large round brown eyes, and a scar just above her right eyebrow. She was a skinny thing, no curves and stood firm and lean. She had her arms full of clothing, which she was no doubt going to wash. Her eyes were smudged with black coal, which confused Lottie since it was Sunday and the girl obviously wasn't working.
"You had your eyes closed like you were sleeping," the girl said, moving past Lottie and crouching at the water basin, pumping water into it and placing her clothes beside the large tub.
Lottie watched the girl begin to do her laundry, and frowned. She touched her wrist gingerly, the bandage tight and causing it to throb even more forcefully.
"I was…just thinking," Lottie murmured, not really sure what to say at all. The girl looked over her shoulder and her dark eyes flicked to Lottie's bandaged wrist and she quirked an eyebrow.
"You're not the first to try it you know," the girl muttered. Lottie was utterly confused, but didn't say anything. "A cheap escape, right?" Lottie shook her head, and started to say she didn't understand when her eyes got big and she shook her head suddenly.
"Oh no…no…I wasn't…" she shifted uncomfortably. "I didn't try…no, that's not it." The girl nodded, and returned to her wash.
"Must have been Miss Velvadine then, right?" Lottie watched the girl curiously and nodded. She realized the girl couldn't see her nod since her back was turned toward the basin and Lottie cleared her throat.
"Yeah," Lottie said. "Her cigarette actually."
The girl nodded and stood up, wiping her hands on her dirty work dress. "Yeah, she does it to almost everyone." She pulled up the sleeve of her left arm and stuck out her wrist, causing Lottie to grimace. There, ugly as ever, was a nickel sized burn identical to Lottie's. "I refused a man. I was stupid and naïve, a few years back. What did you do?"
Lottie looked up at the girl. "Same…I think."
The girl laughed bitterly and numb, but it wasn't cruel or mocking. More of a sad kind of a laugh…almost pitying. "You better not refuse again…not unless you want another one of these. It's disgusting, isn't it?"
"Well, I don't suppose it's not pretty," Lottie said, looking at the girl's scar. The girl shook her head and smiled a little, her eyes holding the memory of a fire put out so long ago.
"Not the scar." Lottie's face burned. "Miss Velvadine. This place. It's horrible and sickening. The fact that this woman thinks she can do this to us." The girl shook her head and began gathering her wet clothes and placing them in a shabby basket. She shuddered. "It's so revolting."
"What is your name?" Lottie asked the girl. The blonde held her basket close to her and tilted her head at Lottie, a shadow of a smile on her thin and sallow face. She'd be pretty if she had a few decent meals and a bath.
"Katie," the girl said a bit timidly, as if she wasn't asked this question too much. "Katie Rommely. What's your name?"
Lottie tucked a loose curl behind her ear. "Lottie Crewe. I just started."
Katie nodded. She looked younger than she probably was with her hair clipped to the side in a small beret. She offered Lottie a small grin. "It's nice to meet you Lottie. I'd watch your back though…in fact, I'd watch all around you. Wouldn't want another nasty burn. And trust me, that witch of a woman gives them quite often." Katie grimaced.
"Was she always like this?" Lottie asked. Katie tilted her head thoughtfully.
"I've been here five years. Since I was thirteen." Lottie's heart broke at this information. "Miss Velvadine has always been a heartless, worthless piece of flesh which would better be off rotting. Always."
Lottie just looked at the girl, not sure of what to say. Katie sighed. "There's one thing you should know Lottie. Don't get mixed up in the wrong sorts of people here. Just don't. It's better to just stay to yourself—that way, you aren't vulnerable to anyone. That's what's got me through anyway."
Lottie was about to say something, when Katie turned and left. Lottie stood there, staring at the doorway, the sun beating down on her back and a breeze playing with her hair from the open window.
Many apologies for lack of Spot. Next chapter:):) Reviews are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!
Love & Strawberries, The Good Girl.