Violet Grenade(61)

"Oh, wow." She laughs. "I did not see that coming. How was it? I bet it was good. Tell me it was good, even if it wasn't."

"What? No. No, we didn't sleep together. I just slept in his bed."

Her face falls. "Okay, next time that happens you open the story with, ‘I slept in Cain's bed but nothing happened.' It's cruel to get me all excited like that." She tilts her head. "Are you guys like into each other for real?"

"No," I say quickly. "Maybe. I don't know. I think it's more that we understand each other. I don't know a lot about him, really, and he certainly doesn't know me, so there's no concrete reason for us to be attracted."

"So you don't like him?"

I smile to myself, remembering the heat of his body next to mine last night. And the way he makes me feel protected without uttering a word. And our nights spent behind the house, Cain with his cigarette, me with my wobbly chair.

"Oh, God. You do like him. Look at that grin."

I laugh. "It's complicated."

Poppet returns to packing her things, muttering that it doesn't seem that complicated. Then she spins around suddenly and holds out the bottom of her yellow blouse. "See what color I'm wearing? Yellow. Know why?"

I know why. I also know if I stay quiet, she'll spell it out.

"Because today we become Tulips, Domino Ray. I'm so excited I could burst. Top floor and everything!"

I glance at my hands. "What makes you think it'll be any different up there?"



       
         
       
        

Poppet groans and drops down beside me. "Listen, Minnow, you can't give up on people you haven't gotten to know just because the ones you've already met are lousy."

I nod, and she slings her arm around my shoulders.

I cringe for only a moment before laying my head against hers.

"What's your story, Poppet?" I ask.

She removes her arm. "Why do you ask?"

"I want to know about you. That's all."

She stands up and fidgets with her belongings. "Not much to tell. Born in a trailer park in Mississippi. Mother had four other kids to take care of, and didn't mind one bit when I threatened to run away." She shrugs. "So I did. Came to Texas with a boy who said he'd always be mine. Then he said the same thing to a woman twice his age once we got here. I met Eric in a town not too far away. I was living with an elderly woman who let me stay there so long as I did her chores and let her knock me around when she felt like it. Eric saw me singing in a bar one day and said I sounded like sunshine in Alaska."

"So you came with him."

"Once he brought Madam Karina to meet me, yeah. Couldn't get in her car fast enough."

I smile, but deep down my uneasiness remains. I distrust Madam Karina every ounce as much as I yearn for her approval. It's twisted, and I think she knows it. The thing is, Madam Karina is as messed up as we are. She both loves and detests us at once. Regardless, it feels different when Poppet tells me her story. Both Eric and Madam Karina must have known she was desperate. They took advantage of her.

Or is that too strong a word?

After all, no one lays hands on Poppet here at Madam Karina's House for Burgeoning Entertainers. Not until I arrived, anyway. Sounds like maybe I'm the problem in Poppet's life. Then again, pervy Mr. Hodge did cop a feel the other day. Wonder how often that happens?

"What about you?" Poppet asks.

My hands clench in my lap.

"It's okay," she says. "You don't have to tell me."

"My father left my mother and me, and my mom went nuts afterward." My breathing grows shallow, because I can't believe I said that much aloud. It's more than I've ever told anyone. I'm waiting for Poppet to press me for details or to say that doesn't sound so bad. But she only gathers her things.

"Let's go start our new life on the top floor, shall we?"

I roll my bedsheets, wigs, and Dizzy's unwashed shirt into a ball. I leave the fork where it lays. "We shall."

The sun is rising when we say good-bye to our empty bedroom on the second floor. Right before I close the door behind us, I grab Dizzy's shirt and toss it into the wastebasket. 

Nothing but net.





Chapter Forty

Joyride

The Tulips are unlike the Carnations and Daisies in every way imaginable. They ooze class and pedigree, though I question whether either is more than skin-deep. When I sweep my eyes across the third story family room, I see tight buns, long dresses, straight spines. I hear soft words, smell subtle perfumes. There are windows on the third floor, even in the bedrooms. It casts an ethereal glow over the seven Tulips and the yellow silk flowers they wear above their right breasts.