Blossom (The Blossom Trilogy Book 1) Page 7

  Blossom rolled her eyes. “No, no. It’s not Butch.” Blossom stopped talking while she thought for a moment.

  “Come on! Tell me more. I’m only on a break.”

  “Alright, alright, alright. It’s the dare. I followed through. I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you and Monique yet!”

  “Oh my gosh. I’m so proud of you. Now you have to tell me everything…at least the short version!”

  “His name is Brock St. Clair. He’s from Nob Hill.”

  Blossom reached into her handbag. “Here’s his card. He gave it to my father. He’d just helped him off the floor after he’d fallen down.”

  “Wait,” interrupted Anna Mae. “Who did the falling and who did the picking up?”

  “My father tripped on Ting Ting’s marbles…again.”

  Anna Mae smiled. “Got it.”

  “Anyway, I had to secretly fish it out of the wastebasket where Ba Ba threw it. That’s all I know about him. He’s sitting in our restaurant right now with his brother having what I would guess is his first Chinese meal.”

  “Well then what are we doing here? Let’s go! Wait a minute,” Anna Mae paused. “Is there anything else that could make this worse?” Of course there is, thought Blossom.

  “He’s about to get married. Does that make it worse? And he’s not Chinese.”

  “I figured he wasn’t Chinese when you said he was from Nob Hill! Could you have made this any more impossible?” asked Anna Mae with a face-filling smile. “Love is wonderful!”

  “Love. Who said anything about love?”

  “You didn’t have to,” she said like an aged matchmaker. “I can see it in your face. I can hear it in your voice.”

  Blossom was stunned by Anna Mae’s words. They burst into laughter and hugged each other.

  Blossom kept the conversation going. “I don’t want to wake up years from now and wonder, ‘what if?’ I’ve already got my share of unanswered what-ifs, and he’s not going to be added to that list. I’m going to find out where this could go, whether I like where it goes or not. Do you think I’m crazy?”

  “No, just a headstrong girl who’s learning to follow her heart.”

  “You make it sound so poetic.”

  “No, it sounds insane.”

  “I can stay out for a few more minutes. Let’s go to your restaurant and you can show him to me.”

  “Okay, but we can only peek in the window. I don’t dare go inside. Grand Ma Maw will put me under lock and key for sure!”

  “Fine.”

  The two hurried, dodging people in their way. Luckily, it wasn’t dark yet. The last thing they needed, to top off the list of rules that were already broken, was to be out after dark without a family member or a proper escort.

  “Hey, isn’t that Monique?” asked Anna Mae as she pointed across the crowded street.

  “Yeah, it is. Who’s she talking to? She must be low on gentleman callers.”

  “That’s putting it politely.”

  Blossom made a mental note to visit Monique to tell her about the dare and to get her take on men.

  “Come on. Let’s get moving. Remember, Kitty is covering for me. I don’t want to be in debt to her or have her gossiping about my comings and goings.”

  When the girls arrived at the restaurant, they peered into the front window as discreetly as they could. Ting Ting scampered over from next door with her two upturned pigtails bouncing around. Their sprays of loose ends of hair looked like exploding fireworks tied at the base with red ribbon bows. Blossom always told her that it was an appropriate hair style for the daughter of a fireworks-shop proprietor.

  “Who are we looking for? Blossom’s sweetheart?” the little girl asked in a silly sing-song way.

  Blossom shushed Ting Ting and looked back into the restaurant window.

  “So where is he? The room is filled with the regular crowd. No one here looks like they’re from Nob Hill,” said Anna Mae loudly enough for a man passing by to hear.

  “I’m from Nob Hill. Is there anything I can do to help you?”

  Blossom turned around and was face to face with Brock. It was the closest they’d been. She felt his warm breath on her face. He was about a foot taller than she.

  Anna Mae figured it out fast and smiled widely. “Well, h—e—l—l—o Mr. Nob Hill. I’m Anna Mae. This is Ting Ting. This is my best friend, Blossom. But I see that you’ve already met.”

  Brock was still looking at Blossom and didn’t blink.

  Austin stepped up to advance the conversation. “Very nice to meet you. I’m Austin St. Clair. This is my brother, Brock. He met Blossom in the bakery earlier today and then we had a fascinating discussion with her at the beginning of our dinner. But she never came back from the kitchen to bring the rest of our meal.” He elbowed Brock in the ribs. The pain forced Brock to break eye contact with Blossom and take in a deep breath.

  For the first time in her life, Blossom was speechless. She could not find any words worth speaking. The tingly feeling she had all over her body kept her mind from working.

  “We just ended our first Chinese dinner before it was supposed to be over, I think,” said Austin to Anna Mae. “No orange slices. No fortune cookies. No slips of paper with cryptic messages,” he said with a creepy tinge to it.

  “What did you think of the meal?” asked Blossom.

  Brock answered, “The soup was incredible. After that, I don’t remember much.”

  Blossom smiled.

  “So just what are you two fine ladies doing outside the restaurant where one of you works?” Austin asked. “And why are you looking in the window?”

  “Oh…well…um…Anna Mae is planning a party and I was, yes, I was just showing her my family’s restaurant as a possible location for her party.” Blossom was back to being herself again and thinking quickly on her feet, even if the delivery of her words was uneven.

  Anna Mae jumped in and addressed Blossom with a serious, businesslike tone. “Now how many people did you say the place could seat? I need room for at least 50 guests.”

  Ting Ting just stood there looking up, pivoting her head and grinning at whoever was speaking.

  “Perhaps my brother and I should leave you to your business,” said Brock, taking a step away.

  “You don’t have to leave. We were just finishing our conversation and I was about to walk Anna Mae back to work. It’s not a particularly scenic walk, but would you like to join us?” asked Blossom. I can’t believe I just asked to walk with us!

  “We don’t have any plans,” said Austin. “Sure, we’ll walk with you. Anna Mae, can you tell us again what line of work you’re in?”

  “I don’t believe I mentioned it earlier, but I’m a telephone operator.”

  Brock and Blossom paired off, as Austin walked next to Anna Mae.

  There are no secrets in Chinatown. I bet Grand Ma Maw already knows what I’m up to right now, and her temper must be boiling over.

  They talked about the damp evening air and the items in the shop windows that were unfamiliar to the men.

  “So what happened to the men telephone operators?” asked Austin.

  “It’s interesting that you should ask that. Almost all of the operators were men not too long ago, but they were not polite enough,” explained Anna Mae. “So, they were replaced by young women called ‘Hello Girls.’ If men had been more polite, I wouldn’t have my job I guess!”

  “That’s quite a lesson for us men, now isn’t it?”

  “Yes. You better mind your manners or a woman might just take your job.”

  Austin replied with a snicker, “I don’t have a job, so there’s nothing to lose or take!”

  Once the group delivered Anna Mae back to her workplace, the brothers offered to walk Blossom home. She accepted, knowing that the decision was questionable. It was even more scandalous that a respectable and prized Chinese girl would walk openly with two white men than to walk alone. As a result, Blossom picked up the pace.

  They said thei
r good nights at Blossom’s restaurant door.

  “When may I see you again, Blossom?”

  “Will your fiancée need any more cookies?” asked Austin of Brock as he pet one of the foo dog statues.

  Brock looked at him with an uplifted eyebrow and a cocked head.

  “I cannot say when we’ll meet again, but I hope it will be soon,” Blossom gently said.

  “I can say when. We can steal some time to be together. We’ll meet tomorrow at noon at the Tie Yick General Store at Dupont and Clay streets. The cable car goes by there. That’s how we got here this afternoon. I want to show you my favorite place. Please be there at noon!”

  Blossom hesitated, then nodded.

  “Now go, before my Grand Ma Maw chases you away with a broom or her walking stick!”

  Once the two brothers left, she ran around to the alley and rushed into the back door and upstairs to her room.

  What have I started?

  The clump-clump of Grand Ma Maw’s approaching walking stick dynamited Blossom’s dreamy recollections of the evening. She braced herself for what was sure to be a verbal lashing, if not something worse.

  Though she didn’t need to and Blossom’s misbehavior certainly didn’t make it necessary, Grand Ma Maw knocked on the door leading into the tiny room the two shared. She entered as quickly as she knocked, not waiting for a response.

  “You foolish girl! What you did tonight cannot be repaired. Entire town talking about your little show. You know this, yes? Somebody’s eyes always watching. No secrets in Chinatown, only hidden answers to questions yet to be asked. Can I ever play mahjong with my friends again without being asked about you and him?” Grand Ma Maw paused. “In one night, you undo everything we work on these many years. Your reputation—our family’s reputation—now spoiled like chicken meat left out in hot sun.”

  “Grand Ma Maw, let me—”

  “You…listen to…me! I not done. I only begun,” said the woman, who for the first time looked truly old and vulnerable to Blossom. “I fear what you have done cannot be undone.”

  Chapter 10

  All About Men

  Sunday, April 15, 1906, 10:14 a.m.

  Three days before the earthquake and firestorm

  Under the guise of needing to pay Anna Mae a morning visit, Blossom made the risky choice to go see Monique to learn about men. Grand Ma Maw put up a strong defense, but cautiously agreed to give Blossom the freedom to go out alone.

  Blossom was hyper-aware of her surroundings the entire time she traveled the streets and alleys of Chinatown. She watched above and over her shoulder for prying and condemning eyes. She knew that if word got back to Grand Ma Maw, her freedom would evaporate along with what remained of the family’s good name.

  Blossom often called Monique by her “old” name, Lai. Now, however, Lai plied her trade in a world of silk stockings and fancy lingerie as Monique LaFontaine, and she peppered her rendezvous conversations with “oui” more often than not, since “yes” was the answer to most requests from patrons.

  Blossom remembered when Lai’s parents died. The girls were both fourteen and Lai had no other family members who were able or willing to take her in. She confessed to Blossom that she saw no other choice but to strike out on her own. In a city teeming with men in need, Lai quickly became Monique. Before the rough-and-tumble streets of San Francisco could suck out her joy of life, or her joie de vivre as she would learn to say, Monique was taken under the wing of Madam Claudine Bijou, who taught her the ways of the world at far too early an age. Adding French to her repertoire was her mentor’s idea and was accomplished under her tutelage. It paid off handsomely over time at the bordello just on the fringe of Chinatown.

  Monique always came to see Blossom, so that she’d never have to set foot in a brothel or be seen doing so. This morning, Blossom faced the door and was about to take a reputation-battering step. She bit her lip, noticed how dry her mouth was and felt queasy. She entered Madam Bijou’s parlor unannounced, though a small chime hanging above the door signaled her arrival.

  Blossom whispered as she took in the visual assault. “Whoa! So this is her world!” The parlor was unlike any room she’d been in before. With nothing that looked like Chinatown, the French-influenced, gold-colored wood furniture had floral silk cushions, and the large mirrors reflected images and light in all directions. The air was filled with a stew of stale cigar smoke and sweet perfume. The room felt dreamy and unreal to Blossom.

  Madam Bijou sashayed into the room with a series of tiny but quick steps. She was surprised to find Blossom standing next to one of the painted urns that held arrangements of long ostrich feathers.

  “Bonjour. Enchanté. Welcome, my dear, to Maison Bijou. I was a bit shocked when I heard the chime. We don’t usually receive many guests in the morning, especially on Sunday. I was just getting ready for a superb luncheon of haute cuisine at the Poodle Dog. Have you dined there?”

  “No ma’am, I haven’t had the pleasure,” replied Blossom as she gazed up at a massive chandelier with crystal necklaces draped over it.

  “What a shame. Perhaps someday you will dine there too. Are you looking for someone in particular? Or perhaps you are looking for employment at our Parisian paradise?” she asked as she outstretched her arm gracefully to direct Blossom’s attention to a wall of portraits. In the center was an oil painting of Madam Bijou—in her younger days—in a grand gold frame, flanked by framed photographs of coyly posed women dressed in décolletage for the evening, their low-cut gowns showing more shoulder, chest and bosom than Blossom was accustomed to seeing.

  “I do hope you’re looking for work. Please don’t be offended. A half-caste girl with your lavender eyes, skin tone and hair will suit you well in the business of entertaining gentleman callers,” Madam Bijou said as she reviewed Blossom’s attributes.

  “Oh, oh no, ma’am,” Blossom choked out as she cleared her throat. She turned and ran her fingers through the feathers as she thought, How dare she call me a half-caste! I may look different, but ‘haft-caste’? Then she focused herself back on responding to the woman.

  “I’m here to see Monique…ah…Monique LaFontaine. We’re old friends, and I need her advice…yes, um, her advice on an urgent matter.”

  “Quel dommage. What a pity,” said Madam Bijou as she shook her head in disappointment.

  “Ah, yes, Monique is a special girl. I’m sure whatever advice she gives you will be wise and kept entre vous…between you two. Discretion is an essential part of our business, you see?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied Blossom.

  Madam Bijou ascended the stairs to tell Monique that she had a visitor. A girl was leaning against the wall on the staircase landing.

  “Madam Claudine,” said the girl with a distinctly boozy drawl. She was looking at Blossom with a furrowed brow. “This girl’s got bigger teats than me and she’s a Chinese chickadee. That ain’t right. Chink sluts are usually flat as washboards.”

  Oh, I feel naked. Monique, where are you?

  The girl twirled the white-feather boa that hung from her neck as she began to blurt out more observations. “What’s wrong with you anyway? Your parts don’t all add up. I bet your folks both ain’t Chinese, right?”

  Blossom’s eyes opened wide like a goldfish’s.

  “Hold on there, you fat cow. Chantilly or Filet Mignon—or whatever the hell you’re calling yourself these days—get your nose out of my business and drag your lopsided ass and mismatched teats back upstairs,” announced Monique as she descended the stairs.

  In contrast to what was spewing out of her mouth, Monique delicately tied a bow in the wide rose-colored ribbon that secured her peignoir above the waist, which made her appear taller than she was.

  “Don’t mind her. She’s more than a little rough around the edges for this place, but she’s a wildcat in the sack and she brings in more than her share of men.”

  “Shoo!” screeched Monique as she goosed the girl on the bottom as she went back
upstairs.

  Monique walked over to the front door, opened it and looked out in both directions.

  “It’s not out there.”

  “What isn’t?” Blossom looked at Monique with a cocked eyebrow.

  “Your mind. Have you lost it? What were you thinking? You, here in broad daylight! Has someone died? That’s about the only thing that would bring someone like you to Maison Bijou!” Monique walked toward Blossom and adjusted her ebony hair rolled at the nape of the neck in its chignon. She caught Blossom staring at the wall of portraits.

  “Honey, if this was a restaurant, that would be our menu. Only the best girls get their portraits taken and hung on the wall. Look there,” said Monique as she pointed to her photograph at the top of the arrangement. “I’m up here for all to see…and order!”

  She continued, “Did you know that bijou means ‘jewels’ in French? Madam Bijou says we’re like the jewels of a priceless necklace that surrounds her on the wall there. But we all have a price, don’t we?”

  Monique shook her head. “So why are you here?”

  “I’m so sorry that we weren’t able to stop and talk last night, Lai…I mean Monique. We were in such a hurry and—”

  “Don’t worry about it. What were you in such a hurry to do with Anna Mae?”

  Blossom looked beyond Monique to avoid making eye contact. Her fingers from both hands were woven together and nervously wiggling.

  “Come on, let me have it,” prompted Monique. “Do I have to coax the words out of you like I do some of my shy gentleman callers?”

  Blossom was relieved that Monique had provided the smoothest of transitions to move their conversation along.

  “How oddly coincidental that you should mention gentlemen. I followed through on our dare and now I’m getting into unfamiliar territory with a man. As far as I can figure, you’re an expert on the topic,” Blossom blurted out in a way that only friends can.

  Monique smiled. She’d become an expert in the types and ways of men. She had to if she was going to survive in her occupation.