Lost Roses - Martha Hall Kelly Page 0,122

marionette theater, if you’re interested.”

“I’m happy to work.”

She set the can on her nightstand. “Well, that’s good news since it’s required. You may have paid for your bed, but to keep it you must put in your hours.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You are slow, aren’t you? The girls here make their living on their backs. This is the dormitory for 12 Rue Chabanais just next door. Quite a fancy place. You won’t believe the murals.”

A brothel? My lips could not form the words.

Oxana pressed her face closer, eyes wide. “Yes, a maison close. You can tell by the numbers on the street above the door. Always bigger and more colorful.”

She slid her spoon under my jacket front, lifted it, and let it flop closed. “You’re a bit old for the best gentlemen and awfully skinny, but with the lights down low your tits are still good enough to keep your bed. For some of the men that come to Les Chabanais, just being seen with a Russian aristocrat on their arm is enough. And get rid of those trousers for goodness’ sake. On the rare occasions when they wear clothes, girls here wear dresses and black stockings.”

“I must leave right away.” All at once my temple throbbed.

“Good luck getting your money back from Madame. Strict no-refund policy. The sooner you start the better.”

All at once Oxana sat back and squinted at me. “You know I cannot shake the feeling I’ve met you before.”

“I thought so, too, when we first met.”

“Moscow Cotillion?”

“No. I debuted in Petrograd.” I thought for a moment. “The Vienna Opera Ball?”

“I don’t think so.”

“My goodness. Brillantmont.”

Oxana breathed a sharp intake of air. “Sofya Streshnayva.”

“You were a first year when I graduated. Didn’t you have long braids?”

Oxana ran her fingers through her short hair. “Sold them first thing when I got here. To the peddler on the way to Rue Daru. Paid me two hundred francs but I could make a lot more money if I still had them.”

She considered me for a moment. “There are a few jobs for girls who sew. Good with a needle?”

I shook my head no.

“Every Russian in Paris flocks to the cathedral at Rue Daru. There’s a workshop there, down in the basement, where you can earn a few centimes making dolls if you can tat lace. But don’t tell them you saw me here?”

“Of course not.”

“Wait. How did I forget? Don’t tell her I told you, but there may be a job for you in Madame’s office, since her collections girl just quit. She was stupid, with no sense for numbers. I would take it but I don’t know the city well enough. Plead your case to her and see if she brings it up.”

I waved to Oxana and hurried down the stairs.

“Hold out for eight francs a week,” she called after me.

* * *

FOUR DOORS DOWN, 12 Rue Chabanais was just as Oxana promised, a gaudy lobby, the walls filled with sensual murals. The gilded mirror over the white marble fireplace reflected a group of breathtakingly lovely girls, most foreigners, sitting about in couture dresses as if at a good party, waiting for their husbands off smoking cigars.

I spotted Madame Melange as she twisted a young woman’s hair into a chignon and secured it with hairpins. “I hope you don’t mind me saying so, dear, but you have the look of aristocracy,” she said to the woman.

I hurried to her. “I need my money back.”

Madame took me by the arm and led me to the corner. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We made a deal. Besides, this is the best you’ll do in all of Paris.”

“I can read. There must be some sort of job—”

“Half the women here can quote Aristotle, my dear. Unless you have a taxi license, no one is hiring Russian women, even to clean toilets.”

I hugged my waist and paced the silk carpet.

“Look,” Madame said. “There are two things people will always pay for. Food and sex. I don’t know about you but I’m no chef.”

Overwhelmed, I covered my face with my hands. What would Father think of me here in this place? Luba would surely figure out some sort of plan. Afon? How I ached for them. How could I find Max all by myself? Where to even start?

Madame Melange wrapped her arm around me, releasing a wave of gardenia and spice.

“There, there. Think of it as a new experience. Our customers are some of the richest in Paris and once you freshen up and

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