Gents & Dames
Nine: If I Were A Bell
Sarah sighed and tried again to rethread her needle. "It's a shame it was lost, Mama."
"I know, Sarah," Esther murmured, but didn't look up from the hemline she was sewing. They two women were sitting on stiff-backed wooden chairs, Sarah's wedding dress draped over a table between them. It was the dress she had purchased when she was eighteen...But of course, Sarah at twenty-nine did not have the same figure she'd had at eighteen, and some alterations were required.
"I wish I at least had a picture of it. It must have been beautiful, not like this rag."
"What's important isn't what you wear, dear," Esther said. She sounded a little exasperated, though Sarah supposed it was only fair, as she'd been harping on her mother's own long-lost wedding dress for almost an hour. "After all, I left nearly everything I owned in the old country; hardly a sacrifice, when you consider all we have now."
"All David has," Sarah said.
"Your brother is very generous, of course." Esther leaned down to bite the end of a thread off, creating a loud twang noise. "But then, what's an unmarried man to do, except take care of his parents? Sarah, surely Ari has some friends—he has a sister, she must have friends."
"Mama, David knows girls," she said.
Esther sniffed. "At least Les didn't wait for us to be old and grey before giving us grandchildren."
"Yes, Mama, I know." Sarah rolled her eyes.
David had, of course, been the favorite child during the strike—and Sarah had been after, when she and Jack were engaged. Her parents had always adored Jack. But she'd ended up a woman with a reputation after Jack left her, and everyone agreed there was something slightly off about David, never mind his career success—some reason why he wasn't married. Of course, their parents had no idea what it could be, but Sarah had a pretty good guess. So now Les was the favorite. He'd finished school, gotten a job, gotten married, had a kid, and another on the way.
Les was normal. Something both his siblings had given up on years ago.
There was a knock on the door. "Ari again?" Esther suggested. "Wasn't he sweet, bringing you those flowers."
Sarah smiled a little, casting a look at the small bouquet that sat on one of David's bookshelves. As far as Esther knew, Ari had dropped by only to give them to her—she hadn't told her mother about Jack's appearance, or the money. The days when Sarah had no secrets from her mother were long gone.
"It was," Sarah agreed, though she wondered why Ari had been so frantic when he'd arrive. She stood to answer the door and raised an eyebrow, surprised, when she saw Nick Meyers standing outside, hat in hand.
"Good afternoon, Miss Jacobs...Mrs. Jacobs," he said.
Sarah stood aside to let him in. "No need to be formal, Nick, you've known me too long."
"Nicholas Meyers!" Esther waved with her free hand, then reached for another spool of thread. "What brings you all the way here?"
"Well, it is the day before Miss Sarah's wedding," he said. "And several of us have pooled our money in order to buy her a gift."
"Really?" Sarah smiled, and mimed glancing into the hallway, looking for it.
"It's up at the, er...theater," he said, and glanced at Esther. She didn't react particularly. "If you would care to join me, Miss Sarah."
"I..." She hesitated. She'd never actually been to the Hotbox; she was well aware of what kind of theater it was, and of who was the house star, but had never seen it for herself. Her reputation was tarnished enough; she didn't need to be seen spending time with actual whores and queers. But then again, her reputation couldn't get much worse.
So there had been a few men between Jack and Ari. A girl needed affection, didn't she?
"Go on," Esther urged. "Enjoy yourself, dear. Take good care of her, Nicky."
"Of course, ma'am. Don't you work too hard, now." He nodded at the door. "Miss Sarah?"
She reached for a shawl. "Why not?"
They walked outside, headed uptown, for several minutes. "So what's so special you couldn't deliver it?" Sarah finally asked.
Nick grinned. "Wouldn't want to ruin the surprise."
"Please. You couldn't keep a secret to save your life."
Nick laughed. They both knew it was true. Which reminded her...
"Did you know Jack's in town?"
Judging by the look on his face, Nick had been informed. "I...may have run into him," he finally confessed.
"Me, too."
"Oh?"
"Oh, yes. Actually, he decided to casually drop my our apartment, the cad. The day before my wedding!"
"Manners were never Jack's strong point," Nick said.
"What's he even doing back here? I can't believe he'd dare show his face."
"I got the impression he was going to begin by paying you back."
"Yes, well..." She trailed off. "It was still rude."
"Most definitely, Miss Sarah."
"And why now?" she demanded.
Nick shrugged. "He said something about it being for business...didn't say anything else, except it was good luck, everyone else being in town."
"That bastard always was lucky."
"Now, stop scowling. Your wedding's tomorrow, you don't want any wrinkles on that perfect face of yours."
"Wrinkles don't happen overnight."
"You done a lot of frowning in your day, Miss Sarah. Not that you didn't have reason. But things are changing, looking up. So smile, for once."
"You are disgustingly cheerful, Nick."
"I do what I can, Miss Sarah."
The subway trip up to the Hotbox was fairly short, and when they stepped out into the less savory part of town, Sarah noted that Nick walked a little closer, a little more protectively. But it was a short enough walk to the run-down theater, which had no name outside its heavy, wooden doors.
Sarah took a deep breath as Nick led her in, not sure what to expect. The foyer was as ramshackle as the outside had been, with dark, worn carpets and peeling paint. The ticket booth was empty, and Nick simply walked past it, pushed open a door, and gestured in to the theater proper.
It was small and cramped with rows of seats in the back, and a few tables surrounded by chairs in the front. The pit was tiny and crammed into a cavern almost underneath one side of the stage, and on the stage...
They were in the middle of rehearsing a number. Thomas, or Adelaide, as Sarah understood he called himself, was standing at the front, wearing a black sequined leotard, thigh-high stockings with garters, and black gloves. His wig was blond and curly, and crowned by black headband with what Sarah could swear were cat ears on top. Behind him were women dressed similarly, complete with the ears. But then she heard the lyrics to the song and understood a little.
"Pet me poppa, poppa pet me good...pet me poppa, proper like you should. If you don't want me I'll roam through the city—talk to me pretty—here kitty, kitty!"
Sarah watched until the end of the number, as Thomas... Adelaide... continued to slink around the stage, gyrating. When the number ended, Nick clapped. He looked up and waved. "Everyone take twenty—and I mean twenty! If you're late, you're replaceable!" he yelled, his voice much deeper than it had been pitched when he was singing, then sauntered up to Nick and Sarah.
"Miss Jacobs! So glad you could make it, darling." And now his voice was high again.
"Um...hello," she answered.
"This way, honey." He gestured further down into the theater and off to one side, then led them through a side door into the back of the theater. Sarah followed nervously, not sure what to say, not even sure what to call him.
Two hallways later, he led them into his dressing room, where, in front of the table, a mannequin intended for costumes had been set up. But instead of a costume, it was a wearing a wedding dress—one clearly intended for some socialite, given the amount of embroidery and lace it contained. Sarah took a sharp breath. It was gorgeous.
"You like it?"
She stared. "It's amazing. I..."
"It's all yours." Thomas—Adelaide—the man in the leotard, Sarah finally decided—leaned casually against the table. "From me, and Nathan, and Nick. Our little family."
"It..." She reached out and brushed a hand against the glossy fabric. "It's beautiful."
"Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded, and gestured at the screen at the side of the room. "Try it on! We have an in-house seamstress; she can do any alterations it needs."
She sucked in a deep breath. "I...oh," she murmured. "I don't think I can take this. It must have cost a fortune."
"Don't be silly," he answered quickly. "I got it at a discount. It's a great story—I'll tell you once you've got it on."
"I already have a dress," she said.
"At least try it on," Nick said, smiling broadly. "Miss Sarah, come on. For us?"
"Trying it on couldn't hurt," the blond added.
Sarah hesitated, and finally nodded.
"Excellent!"
"Umm..." Sarah cleared her throat, as they began working to undo the myriad buttons up the dress's back. "What...what should I call you?"
"Oh, honey, you can call me anything you like." He smirked. "I do prefer Adelaide when I'm in costume...but Thomas, if you're more comfortable with it."
She got the feeling that calling him Thomas would be very rude somehow, and nodded. "I wasn't sure."
"I have that effect on people surprisingly often. The first time your brother saw me in a dress...well, it wasn't a dress exactly, it was garters, a corset, and heels... You should have seen his face."
Sarah smiled, imagining. "Bright red."
"Honey, he looked like a tomato. And it was all the way down under his collar... I always wonder, just how far down does he blush?"
"I bet you'd like to find out," Nick said. "Hussy."
Adelaide grinned widely. "Now, now, that's not nice to say in front of his sister. Ah!" He tugged the dress loose from the mannequin and thrust it into Sarah's arms.
"What do you mean?" Sarah asked, walking to the screen. Then she hesitated and turned around to give them a serious look. "Adelaide...Nick, is David queer?"
Adelaide didn't react, but Nick really couldn't keep a secret to save his life.
"I'll take that as a yes," she snorted, and walked behind the screen.
"Nicholas, someday that'll get you in trouble," Adelaide scolded.
"That's why I don't play poker no more," Nick agreed.
"Sarah, honey?" Adelaide called. "Are you okay?"
"I've figured as much for years!" she yelled, as she began to fiddle with her own zippers.
"Well, we aren't certain," Adelaide said. "I mean, he and I have never...I'm not sure he ever has, with anyone. Man or woman."
Sarah blinked.
Of course David was a virgin. He was perfectly responsible and an upstanding member of society. Definitely not a sodomite, whether he wanted to be or not; and he'd never rob some poor girl of her virtue... She reached for the glistening white dress and had a momentary thought about its color, but didn't dwell on it.
"And he's definitely never gone with any of the girls who work here, despite having had quite a few offers from some of our hopeful social climbers," Adelaide continued. "But I know queers all over this city, Sarah, and let me tell you—none of them have ever succeeded with him either. He just turns red and excuses himself."
"Mmm."
"Need help with the buttons, honey?"
She started to reply no—even she drew the line at letting a strange man dress her—but decided she just didn't care anymore. It wasn't as though Adelaide had any interest in her body, after all. And the dress had a million tiny, pearl-like buttons. She called out for his help and he appeared, still smiling, and got to work.
"So you think David...?" she asked, pulling her hair out of the way.
"Well, hard to say. Queers come up here for the shows; everyone else does for the whores. David is polite enough to watch the shows, but doesn't seem too interested in them; Lord knows he's not interested in the whores. But yes, I think he's queer."
She nodded. "He was more heartbroken than I was when Jack left."
"You are a sharp one, Sarah," Thomas agreed. "That was how I figured it, too." He shook his head. "I'm betting he never even worked up the courage to ask Jack."
"Jack definitely isn't queer," Sarah said.
Adelaide made a noise of amusement. "Says you." He gave her shoulder a pat. "All buttoned, honey, take a look."
"What do you mean, says you?" Sarah demanded, as they walked out to the mirror over his vanity. She inhaled sharply. The dress hadn't been made for her, not quite, but it was close. Certainly much better for her figure than the one at home was. She smoothed down the skirt and stared.
"Call it wishful thinking," Adelaide answered, smiling. "And a gut feeling. You get a sense of these things eventually, you know, and Jack definitely set off whatever sense I had back then, especially when he was around David. But then he went and got himself engaged to a woman." He shrugged. "Can't be right all the time, I guess. I was right about the important one."
Sarah wheeled around to see that he was no longer talking to her—he was facing the door, where Nathan was now standing. "Hey, Sarah, the dress suits you," he said.
"Thank you." She sighed. "But I really can't—"
"Don't be an idiot. The dress maker is a friend of Adelaide's, he sold it to us for cheap when the debutante who was supposed to wear it was knocked up and it didn't fit."
Sarah blinked. "Oh. Well in that case...It is lovely, isn't it?"
"Nicky, be a dear and find our seamstress," Thomas instructed, smiling.
Nick nodded and hurried out. Sarah looked over at Nathan, who had walked to Adelaide's side.
Nathan glanced at Adelaide's outfit. "Back to the cat number?" he asked.
"You don't like it?" Adelaide demanded, then pursed his lips together into a pout.
Nathan grinned. "Of course I like it. I just like the solo acts better. Nothing to distract me..." He snaked an arm around Adelaide's waist.
"Right answer," Adelaide murmured. They kissed quickly, then both shot guilty looks at Sarah, who raised an eyebrow. Nathan cleared his throat, but Adelaide just smiled.
Sarah regarded the two of them for a minute, and then smiled back. Her brother's friends were nice enough, but what she really enjoyed was that Adelaide was unashamed. As someone who had overheard gossip about herself for years, she appreciated that.
"So, honey, about the dress—the girl who was supposed to take it, well, it would be horrible to tell you her name." He laughed. "But let's just say, I'm pretty sure the kid won't even be her fiance's."
Nathan smirked. "Well, she had to do something while he was up here, and his brother is much more attractive. Not that I'd ever look."
"Now you have to tell me who," Sarah said.
"Well." Thomas looked around conspiratorially, but before he could say there was a knock on the door. He called for the knocker to enter, and Nick came back in. The seamstress wasn't with him.
Spot Conlon was.
"Look who I found floating around," Nick said.
"Conlon!" Nathan declared.
"Higgins." He paused, then glanced at Adelaide. "What the hell happened to you, Kid?"
"I found my calling."
"As what, a sideshow freak? The bearded lady and the man in the dress! You guys could travel with the circus." He glanced over at Sarah. "Hey, Miss Sarah."
"Hi, Spot."
He tilted his head a little. "Sean Patrick, if you don't mind."
"Sean Patrick, la-di-da," Adelaide snapped.
The newly dubbed Sean Patrick rolled his eyes. "Sean, at least. So when's the game, Higgins?" he demanded.
Nathan shrugged. "Later."
"Later, meaning when?"
"Meaning I'll tell you later." He glanced at Nick. "There are still some details to be worked out."
"I thought it was a sure thing?" Adelaide asked innocently, his voice high and airy.
"It is," Nathan snapped.
"Mmmhmm."
"Right, well, what's a man s'posed to do 'round this queer hole-in-the-wall in the meantime?"
"We were just admiring Miss Sarah's dress," Nick said.
"Yeah, it's great. Now what?"
"'Scuse me?" The door opened again, and one of the women from the show leaned in. "Adelaide, are we going to be running the farm number later? Because..." She trailed off, then stepped into the room. "What have we here?" She gave Sean an admiring look.
"Sean Patrick Conlon," he said, and stepped a little closer to her. "Just here to visit some old friends."
"Friends? With them?" She sighed. "Not another queer, Adelaide, honestly, what was with you newsboys?"
"I ain't queer!" Sean said quickly. Adelaide raised an eyebrow, looking amused. Sean scowled, then reached out to wrap an arm around the girl's middle, as if to prove himself. She pushed it away, but let his hand linger on her hip.
"Well, we'll see, I suppose," she said with a yawn. "Anyway, Adelaide, the costumes for the farm number are being laundered; they might be dry by show time, but by rehearsal—" She stopped talking abruptly, and spun to face Sean. She pointed an angry finger in his face. "That hand goes any lower, stranger, and I'm going to start charging you."
"What's your rate?" he asked.
"That depends. How much do you have?" He grinned and she turned back to Adelaide. "The costumes—"
"No, not today," Adelaide interrupted.
"Fine." She nodded and turned back towards the door, then hesitated and glanced over at Sean. "Well, I'll be relaxing before we get back to work...you're welcome to join me, if you're man enough. Friends with these guys, I'd have to wonder."
He made a noise as if he were being strangled. She patted his cheek, shrugged, and sauntered out of the room. Everyone watched her go, because the way she walked was clearly a very deliberate display.
"Wipe the drool off your chin, Patty," Adelaide snapped.
"Now that's a dame," Sean answered, still looking at the empty doorway. Then he glanced back at Adelaide, glanced at his wig and outfit for a long moment, and asked, "...Wasn't she?"
"You'll have to find that one out the hard way," Adelaide answered.
Spot hesitated, then shrugged. "I'll take my chances. Where's her dressing room?"
"I'll show you—and get the seamstress," Nick declared.
"Hurry back," Nathan told him. "I got work for you."
Nick smiled and shrugged, and led Sean out. Sarah smoothed the skirt of her dress down again and sighed happily. "At least I'll look like a respectable bride."
Nathan's arm was still around Adelaide's waist. "What's so great about being respectable, anyway?" he asked easily.