Kiss Me, Curse Me - By Kate Shay Page 0,59
fight the flames using everything and anything they had. Some gathered water in cups and bowls, and others used the blankets from their beds. The mob outside had tossed flaming bottles through the windows with alcohol serving as the accelerant. Betty cursed up a storm as she worked to kill the flames that licked the curtains and ceilings. The smoke had become near unbearable, and some of the girls succumbed to fits and backed away. . The few who could fought hard.
“No!” Betty shouted as she attempted to calm the flames on her burning, fluffy, white bed. Her pink bedroom was taking on smokier tones with streaks of black cascading across the walls and branches of flames encroaching into her once soft, comfortable haven. She stumbled back against her dresser to see herself in the mirror, face covered in soot, her pink dress matching the destruction of the room.
“Oh my . . .” Betty kneeled down in reverence. “My place. This is my place.” Her words were lost in the sounds of terror—the coughs, the screams, the banging, the shouting, and the condemnatory chanting outside. “That’s it! That’s it! It’s over.” She took one last look at her worst nightmare and made for the door, tripping over a body on the floor. It was Rose, unconscious. With the tears flooding, Betty knew they’d lost the fight against the red beast. “That town. That town. Look how they repay me. That town. That goddamn town. I’ve done nothing but take care of those people. I fed them, I entertained them, I did their biddings, I did their men. I did that. God . . . why now?”
Betty ordered all who could hear her to retreat downstairs and into the basement, instructing those barring the doors to keep hold until the very last minute.
She faced her troops spread out amongst the poker tables in their smoky robes and entertainment attire—a dozen ladies from the ages of seventeen to early thirties. Many of the girls had huddled together, some still hacking heavily. Betty spoke to them in a clear, steady voice, “We have five minutes, maybe seven, until this entire place goes to nothing but ashes. I need you to—”
Interrupting her address, Rose wheezed awake, and Betty eased her down to the floor.
“Are you with us, Rose? I need you to listen.”
Unable to speak due to the pain in her airways, Rose just nodded.
“Those of you with gats, I need you up front when we make for it.”
Three girls with the revolvers looked at one another then back at Betty.
“Don’t give me that. We don’t need hesitation here. Just point and shoot. They’ll be shooting too, I’m sure. It’s either that, or we burn alive in this forsaken tomb. We’re going to shoot our way out the back. I need two of you to follow me to my office. The rest of you—we’ll meet you up in the back hall. Make your way up there now, okay? On you go. Go!”
Stopping in the kitchen to grab a book of matches form the pantry, she then led the two girls into her office. She unlocked a large strong box from her safe and started unloading stacks and stacks of cash, slamming them into two black satchels that she pulled out of her desk drawer. The two girls looked at each other, smiling.
“Josie and May. I know you two haven’t had a lot of responsibility yet, but you’re all I have right now, and you’re going to earn a hell of a lot of respect if you do this right. We make it to where we’re going, and you’re getting a big promotion. I have to shoot, okay? So I want the two of you to stay by me at all times; I don’t care what is going on around you. I don’t care who’s shot, who’s injured, who’s lost their rumpelstiltskins or whatever. You stay right behind me. I’m clearing the path.”
They nodded and took the heavy bags.
“Let’s blow this town,” said Betty, cocking her rifle.
They squeezed their way to the front of the hall crowd after letting Doc and his group know it was time to abandon the front door, which had been blocked with heaps of furniture and other objects. “Listen for the signal,” Betty yelled.
“What signal?” yelled Doc.
“Gunshots!”
***
“Give up, Ed. You can’t hold it on your own,” said Doby.
The beads of sweat ran down Ed’s stubbled, angry face. “I’m not budging. I didn’t come out here to die today. Maybe you