Every table, every canoodling couple was whispering, boasting, making conjecture on the same thing. Her.
“Cigarette?”
Pearl had never felt physically well a time in her life, but since that man’s fetid blood had pooled in her mouth, she could hardly keep anything down.
More bones than curves in her clothes, her paunchy boss was dissatisfied with what he saw. “You look like shit.”
It wasn’t just her flagging looks. Pearl had been jumping at shadows; she’d knocked over drinks on guests. Her time at the supper club was up, her little room with its window was going to be lost, and once again, any type of life she had tried to imagine for herself had been ruined.
She should have known better than to hope things might be different.
Pearl, her voice low so the other girls wouldn’t hear, said, “Just give me one more night, sir.”
“You ain’t been so bad, Pearl. You show up on time, do your job… but no one wants to look at a skeleton slinging cigs.”
“I’ll put on more rouge, take the section farthest from the stage lights.” Lightheaded, she flat out begged. “One more night, Mr. Weller. Please?”
He was unconvinced, eyeing the dark marks under her eyes, the bony knobs of her shoulders. “You got the consumption?”
That wasn’t what was wrong with her. “No, sir. I am just hungry. Winters are hard.”
“Well, for Christ’s sake, eat something, girl!”
She took his admonishment as approval, and flung the strap of her cigarette box over her head. Once she had it flush to her neck, she offered a close mouthed smile. “Thank you.”
Rushing from the dressing rooms, she heard Mr. Weller call at her back, “The first complaint I get, you’re gone, kid.”
Smile glued on, everything was by the book: drop a curtsey at each table, stay moving, no lounging. Assure guests were happy. The sidelong glances, Pearl could handle, even the occasional look of disgust at her split lip. If they sneered, she smiled even bigger, fangs retracted, all her teeth on display, until they stopped sneering and looked through her.
That was how people worked; that was the world Pearl had always known.
One more night, two more dollars then she would leave her little apartment with its floral papered walls and single overhead light. In a pair of sturdy shoes, she could walk to Boston or maybe Philadelphia. It would take time, weeks, but there would be no more scary newspapers, no more feeling like the buildings were closing in around her.
She could find a job just like this one, maybe even another apartment with a window.
Or... what if she didn’t leave? What if she took some time and ate a great deal? If she could fatten her cheeks up by spring, maybe Palace Delight would want her back. Without funds her room would be lost, but living on the street wasn’t so bad. She’d done it before; she could do it again.
Hope, it was a vicious deceiver, but still it came to prick at her heart. It had been two weeks and no soul had knocked on her door. Perhaps New York was big enough to shield her. After all, she’d come here for a reason. The Big Apple, the Golden City she’d dreamed of for decades. Art Deco, shimmering buildings, picture shows.
Everything would be fine.
A deep breath and her smile became genuine.
True to his word, Mr. Weller fired her at the end of the shift, but not without payment. He even tucked an extra dollar in her hand out of charity. By the time she’d pulled on her coat and stepped out into the icy night, her bad turn had begun to feel manageable.
He’d hire her back, Pearl was certain. She just needed to gain some weight first. The long walk home was a good place to start. There were always rats in New York City, and they were easy enough to catch.
She snatched up two, draining each out of sight of the street. When her teeth sunk into the third, her heart stopped racing, her breath became even for the first time in days, and feeling began to come back to her frozen toes.
Starving herself out of fear of the shadows had been unwise. It was a mistake she promised herself not to repeat.
The dead, mangy creature was dropped on dirty snow. A full sigh puffed like smoke in the chilled air, Pearl leaning her head back aga
inst the brick wall of a dreary tenement. In the narrow alley, sandwiched between two tall buildings she had a small view of a pretty sky to enjoy.
“I can smell the human’s blood on your coat, apostate.”
Cutting off her startled shriek, a hand closed over her mouth... a hand attached to an arm that had grown from the wall at her back.