Rubella awoke in the late afternoon. She felt sick and tired but she got up anyway. She looked around the room and sighed about earlier. Midday men were always in a rush. She tidied up the room and made herself decent just in time to hear a knock on her door. She pulled a light white feathered robe over her otherwise scantily clad figure. Then she picked up the golden skeleton key from her side table and walked to the door. "Who is it?" "It's me, Scarlet." "Oh of course," Rubella opened the door and walked back into her room to the corner where a winged armchair rested next to an elegant table. On the table was a glass ash tray, a pack of matches, a pack of cigarettes, and a long drag. "How may I help you?" Rubella asked lazily as she lit one. "It's my last performance tonight. Tomorrow he's going to bring me right up to Broadway," Scarlet explained, looking alternately at the ground and then at Rubella's face. "He?" Rubella asked, blowing a smoke ring. "He. The man who promised me everything," Scarlet said defensively. "Promises..." Rubella fell silent. The memories of William stung her heart. Rubella stood up and put her hand on her single windowsill. The dusty horizon was all she saw stretching for miles. It was hard to imagine a big city like New York with people walking about always with somewhere to be and someone to see. "If you leave, will I be next?" Rubella asked distantly. The girls were silent. Then Scarlet cleared her throat. "The performance will be in ten minutes. You should get ready. Without another word, Scarlet left the Gold Room to join the others. That night, Rubella lay alone in her bed. She listened through the walls as the other girls congratulated and shared drinks. Rubella was sick to her stomach with envy. She refused to go to her 'going away party'. It wasn't fair. It should've been her.
AzuleFeather · Sun Jun 07, 2009 @ 09:03am · 0 Comments |