Chapter Twenty-Seven
Peppermint
Over the next week, Poppet and I are like bandits. We pick out the guest no one else wants, and show them a good time. Such a good time that other guests wander over. We even pick up a repeat in the form of a blond-haired, blue-eyed, dimple-donning widower.
He says his name is Jack.
Today is Sunday, and Poppet and I stand in front of the placement board. She clutches my hand in hers, and I let her do it even though it makes me itch. It all comes down to today’s ranking. There have been nights we’ve faltered, and nights we swept the room. But we need high placements today to be the top girls overall this week.
The board flashes twice.
And the names scroll across the display.
1. Poppet
2. Domino
3. Mercy
Mercy calls us filthy names, and I give her credit for originality. But beyond that, I don’t care. Because we did it. Somehow, Poppet and I have secured a place on the second floor. Madam Karina strides into the room and calls us over, pink envelopes in one hand, three violets in the other.
I take my envelope and flower, and Madam Karina beams. She leans down. “Meet me upstairs in an hour.”
I’m all but shaking with excitement, but I glance at Poppet as if asking a question. Madam Karina rolls her eyes but doesn’t lose her smile. She nods.
Yes, you can bring her.
I swallow a squeal even though I’m not the squealing type, and race toward the basement. As of today, I have forty-two dollars and sixty-six cents to my name. And I earned it. I’ve never had a job before, and I’m surprised by how satisfying it is. Poppet races after me, and suddenly I can’t help myself. I burst out laughing and Poppet does too and we run down the stairs. The Daisies and Tulips are nowhere in sight, which slays my enthusiasm, because all I want to do right now is stare at each Daisy in turn and decide which girls might be nice.
“What are you two giggling about?” Angie asks as she unpacks a box of toothbrushes.
“We’re going to be Daisies.” Poppet shimmies. “And it’s all because of Domino. She’s so smart.”
“Uh, it was you who placed first today.” I walk toward the open cage and reach for a box. “Here, I can help.”
Angie snatches it away and glances over my shoulder. “Back up. Don’t be so goddamn overeager.”
I bite my tongue, hurt by her words. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you remember what happened last time?” Angie mutters.
“Stop it, Angie,” Cain says. The lack of hostility in his voice reminds me the woman is harmless, and to match her blow for blow.
I fold my arms over my chest. “How’s that POS tractor of yours? Still an embarrassment to the auto community?”
Angie bolts upright. “How dare you talk about Black Betty that way.”
Poppet laughs. “I didn’t know your tractor had a name.”
“Nor should you,” Angie clips. “Now both of you go away so I can work.”
I look at Cain, and he shifts his weight. “You really going to be a Daisy?”
“Yeah,” I respond. “Madam Karina offered us a challenge, and we met it.”
“She’s so nice,” Poppet says. “Madam Karina pretty much saved me, and now this.”
Angie’s face darkens, and a deep line forms between her brows. When I notice how quiet she’s being, I lower my voice so that no one upstairs can hear. “What is it?”
Her head whips around. “If there was anything to say I’d say it. Now didn’t I tell you to get out of here? I’ve got five minutes before those girls start screaming for their Sunday haul.”
As if on cue, footsteps hit the stairs. Poppet and I watch as the girls line up and trade their hard-earned coins for suede clutches and wide-tooth combs and fashion magazines. I watch the Daisies but they buzz too quickly, and before I know it, they’re racing back upstairs with their prizes.
I trail after them, wide-eyed, as they chatter all the way to the second story and out of sight. Excitement blooms in my belly once again.
“This what you want?” Angie asks, startling me. I spin around and take in her soft curls, her dimpled chin, and her small hands that have held more cigarettes than either of us could count. “You want to stay in this house?”
Defiance rolls through me like lava pressed against the mouth of a volcano. “What if I do?”
Angie smiles a sad smile. “Everyone here has such blistering youth.” Even though she’s speaking plainly, it’s as if she’s asking me to read between her words. When I don’t say anything, she pushes through the screen door and out into the summer heat.
I’m not sure what provokes me to follow her outside. I should be collecting Poppet and heading upstairs. I have a daisy to collect, after all. But I follow her all the same. Standing on the porch, I call out her name.
She turns around.
“You think Cain is nice, right?”
She takes two steps toward me, looks over my shoulder at the house and then back at me. “Yeah, course he is. Why you asking such a stupid question?”
My eyes flick toward the sky, afraid to appear too eager, like she said. “Why does he stay here when the girls are mean to him? Aren’t there better jobs in Pox?”
Angie doesn’t say anything. She just stands there, breathing hard like she’s rooted on a land mine, afraid uttering one word will blow us all to kingdom come. Somehow, this is worse than any response.
“Is it because of the money? Does he need it for something?”
Her hands curl into fists. “If you think that woman is paying him a nickel for his time, you’re dead wrong. Now stop asking me things. Ask him yourself if you’re so interested.”
Angie turns to leave, but then spins back around. She paces toward me and digs her hand in her pocket, pulls out a peppermint. She holds it out and looks away like she couldn’t care less if I take it.
But I do…take it.
And when Cain appears through the open door a second later, she shoves another one into my palm.
“For the boy,” she says.
Then she’s gone, walking toward Black Betty like there’s a fire blazing at her back. There are two Dobermans I’ve never seen before bouncing around the tractor. She brushes them aside, and they bark wildly as she starts the tractor’s engine.
“Don’t give my dogs the peppermints,” she yells over the rumble. “It’ll make Kali sick. Damn dog has a sensitive stomach.”
I’m not sure why I’d ever give a dog a peppermint, so I stuff them obediently into my pocket and watch as she chugs down the road, dogs chasing behind, her head bobbing in the distance.
I like her, Wilson says cautiously.
Yeah, I think. I do, too.