Kapitel 11: A Question Of Duty
Wesley stood in the foyer while I went upstairs to the guest bedroom where Emma was staying. Through the stained glass on the cherry wood door, I saw Victoria in the smoking room, lying on her back on the black leather couch. She wore a peach-colored slip dress, and the hem rode up to her knees. Her pale, long-fingered right hand hung from the edge while the other holding a cigar.
Scandalous. She was in the territory of men, where women were strictly forbidden. But no man belonged in her house, so she was free to reign.
I watched her, observed her curiously like she was an ancient oddity from west of the Nile.
"Come in," she said, didn't turn her head.
I walked in without knocking.
"I won't ask you to take one." She pointed at the box on the glass side table. "Since you only smoke those lady cigarettes."
I couldn't see her face, nor did I want to. Seeing the back of her head and the undone blonde hair had told me enough.
"Why?"
"She tried to escape." She watched the smoke rise from her cigar. "It wouldn't look good for the family."
"And the Chang boy?"
"To fully resolve an issue, one must kill it at its root," she said nonchalantly. "You should know that sort of thing the best."
"The Changs are coming for us because of you."
"Good. Now the burden you brought into this family can finally be dealt with," she was detached. No remorse, nor a single trace of concern. Her voice was hollow, and her faint, foreign accent came through the hollowness.
"Did Thomas tell you to do it?" I asked after a pause.
"Tommy-boy tells me nothing," she slightly turned her head. "I do things as I please."
"Why did you marry Laurie?" For the first time, I demanded an answer from her bluntly with the nerves I didn't have. "You don't love or even care for him. What did Thomas do to make you marry him?"
"As I said, Tommy-boy tells me nothing," she repeated. Sounding fascinated, she stared into my eyes: "And if you care for Lawrence as much as you make it sound like, then you should be asking yourself that question. Why didn't you marry him?"
-----
"I brought you a visitor," I said expressionlessly.
Emma was sitting upright on the bed with a cup of tea. Seeing me, she put the cup down, and a clink was heard as it touched the nightstand's surface. Lizzie slouched in the armchair at the foot of the bed, makeup smudged and wearing the same dress from yesterday.
"I know," she said.
"How are you?"
"Oh dear, just bring him in," she said impatiently. "There's no point in…in whatever you are trying to achieve here."
She rarely talked harshly to me or anyone for that matter. Emma had been timid and soft all her life until she was shot for the first time.
I remembered the first time I was shot. I was pretty young then. I had slapped a man – whose name I had long forgotten – in the face, for he wouldn't pay his due. He shot me in the chest. A couple of inches to the left, I'd be dead.
Women like you have no say in life, he said as he threw me to the ground, worthless whore.
Getting shot can change someone, I thought, perhaps.
A knock on the door drew her attention away from me. Wesley was here. Lizzie stood up with a soft groan. She stared at her sister for a few seconds, sighed, and followed my steps.
I walked out. He walked in. We passed each other like that. No words. Nothing.
"Does she know?" I asked.
"Know what?" Lizzie slid down against the banister with her hand on her forehead. I waited. She looked up and scorned: "About her soon-to-be husband used to be your pimp? No, she doesn't. It's for the best, don't you think?"
"He wasn't my pimp. He was, and still is, a kind and trustworthy friend." I was defensive. "But you're right. She doesn't need to know anything."
Lizzie rolled her eyes.
"Does she know about…" I swallowed. Nervously, I began to turn my ring, "…well…."
"No," Lizzie answered before I could finish my sentence. "She thinks you've been good and cut it completely off with Laurie after you married Thomas."
I sighed out of relief.
"On another note," she crossed her arms and said moodily, "you brought a young cop home last night, didn't you? What did you think you were doing?"
"It didn't take long for Clarence to tell on me. I can't say I'm surprised." I frowned, then shrugged. "Worry not. I intend nothing special for Charlie. I only wanted to see whether Clarence can be trusted since he said he wants to work for me."
"He isn't spying on you for Thomas, silly," she shook her head. "He's watching over you for me. You need some supervision. We both know that."
I tilted my head and pursed my lips, pretending to be unimpressed.
After a pause, she added:
"Come to my house tonight. I'm hosting a party. It'll help you. Ask Laurie to come with you, will you? You better talk to him before I do."
-----
"Will you ask?" He broke the silence.
"Will you tell?" I rolled down the window to let in the noises of the streets.
"She said she feels sorry for me," he spoke flatly, "but not for herself. She said she dreamed and hoped to be spared from her duty to her family. She has tried, and she has no regrets."
"Duty," I repeated, "duty. And you?"
"I wouldn't want to be Thomas Murphy's enemy," he said, "he did keep the others from cashing out that bounty on my head."
"At least he decided to keep you close," I tried to reason.
"To keep me at bay," he corrected. "To pledge an allegiance. To be valuable."
I didn't know what to say.
"Why did you marry him?" He asked that question again. "Why didn't you marry Lawrence?"
He questioned in the same tone as Victoria did. I felt lost.
"Please, I don't want to go there," I pleaded, "I'm sorry."
"It really isn't me who you should be apologizing to." His brows furrowed, but that frown lasted fleetingly, and he was his usual composed self again. "I'm sorry if I've crossed the line by asking you so. I should've known better since there's no point in questioning a decision already made and can't be changed without a radical effort."
----
I was eighteen in 1925. He was twenty-seven. He was still overseeing the Red Lantern House, and it was finally time for me to pay my due. I was old enough, and I was ordered to start taking clients.
I was mad at him. I was madly in love with him.
Too young and foolish, I thought I could confess my feelings to him, and then he'd save me, take me away from this troubled path. I thought he felt the same way.
"I'm sorry, Anne, I'm afraid you've misunderstood," frowning, he said politely in his ever so deep and magnetic voice. "I apologize if my cordial behavior towards you has caused any confusion. You must understand that my promise to you was kept, and now it's time for you to do your part as you had agreed to."
Not long after, the light-haired man from before came about. And I chose to act out of impulsivity and childishness. An act that Laurie would repeat eight years later.
-----
I walked into the Cecil Hotel at six in the evening. I was led through the hall, up in an elevator to the top floor, and let into a luxurious suite, instructed to sit in the center of the golden-colored couch. Wesley stood behind me with his hands behind his back.
I lit up a cigarette.
"I'd rather you not smoke," a man's voice echoed from the bedroom.
A short-statured, dark-haired man came with the ruffling footsteps, dressed in a hotel robe and slippers.
I blew the smoke.
"I could've never guessed it was you, Mr. De Rossi. What brought you from Chicago?"
There was no mistake. It was him. He was the man I saw coming out of Thomas' office.
"It's nice seeing you again, Anne." Matteo De Rossi sat on the opposite side. "Let's say I'm here for personal business."
"Then I won't inquire any further." I faked a smile.
I could sense something was about to go wrong. It was never a good sign when the Italians came unannounced. Thomas had a strict policy of avoiding any confrontation with them. They had been trying to get their influence into Hollywood, and Lizzie was reasonably unhappy about it since the family was forced to cut deals with them. I couldn't say what kind of deals were made, for Lizzie was in charge of everything related to the motion picture industry. I wasn't tasked to use my brain. I was assigned to run errands.
He squinted in amusement.
"May I ask you why you wanted to see me?" I asked as politely as I could.
"I wanted to show you something," he smirked, turned his head to the right, and nodded. Two men held another man's arms and dragged him out of the bedroom. They propped him in a chair as if he was a lifeless doll. Blood had dried in patches on his white shirt as if they were its original pattern. His sweat-soaked blond hair sticked onto his bruised face. He could barely keep his head up.
De Rossi cleared his throat. One of his men pulled that poor soul's hair and forced him to look at me.
His eyes widened. He had recognized me, like how I had recognized him.
No scenario in my imagined reunion acted out like this.
He wanted to speak, but I shook my head slightly.
"Put out that cigarette, will you?" De Rossi pointed at the ashtray on the side table.
I did what I was told.
"Now," the smirk stayed on his greased face, "this man over here, you see. He is my business. I think you know who he is, right?"
"Let him go," I muttered.
"That's not going to happen." He smacked his lips. "He crossed us, and now we got him."
"Why am I here?" I lifted my eyes.
"I thought it'd be nice for you to say goodbye." De Rossi shrugged before his smirk turned menacing. "Especially since you didn't get to do it last time."
-----
I asked Laurie to accompany me to Lizzie's party. He agreed. In the car by my side, he was no longer aloof. At this moment, he could be the gentle soul he was when we were alone, knowing he could be carefree. He joked, he laughed, and his arm was around me. I smiled too, though I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened in the Cecil Hotel.
"Why were you seen with Mildred Brown?" I asked abruptly, trying to divert my thoughts.
At first, he was caught off guard, and then he squeezed my shoulder: "I was just curious about how she looks and if she's like how Lizzie said she is."
"And?"
"She looks eerily like Inka," he shrugged with a frown, "and I must say I agree with Lizzie. But who's going to tell Thomas to stop seeing her?"
Standing in Lizzie's foyer, I realized I didn't belong here. Jazz. Swing. Cameras. Glamor. A brave new world. I was from a foreign place, a distant reality, and I spoke an alien tongue in this house.
For the first time in a long while, I became aware of my foolish ignorance.
I thought I could seamlessly blend and melt in like Laurie. I was painfully wrong. He was born into this, and he had been accustomed to it. I, on the contrary, was a forever outsider. The music, the alcohol, the affairs, and the powder. Powder-nosed, they asked me if I'd like to try, to be like – no – to be them.
They drank the most expensive liquor, bedazzled in jewels stolen from a lost dynasty, danced, sang, and cheered. Behind these doors was an isolated and detached society, a realm that mere mortals like me had failed to comprehend.
I thought about the beggars on the streets, the small children in tattered clothes, looking up at me with big, watery eyes, politely asking if I had a penny to spare. I always carried loose change and handed it out to those I believed needed it. I couldn't do much, but a penny was better than no penny.
I wondered if the people behind these doors knew what a penny was.
"Don't stand around like that." Lizzie came to grab my hand, her cheeks red from all the dancing. "Come and enjoy the party."
She noticed Laurie and smiled.
"I'm glad you came, dear," she said to him like he was a child as she wrapped her arms around his. Being nine years older, I wondered if she had always seen him as a boy and only as a boy.
"Oh please." Laurie shook off her arm. "You're embarrassing me."
"Well," she shrugged, "go get yourselves busy. I've got some work to do."
She winked at Laurie, who looked away and didn't respond. As she left, she stared into my eyes thoughtfully. I knew very well what she intended to tell me.
"Laurie, I…well…." I stumbled to get the words out. The nervousness took the form of an uncomfortable titter. Unable to meet his eye, I faced the wall, acting as if I was admiring the antique painting, "I have something to tell you."
Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
-- Power-
Rangliste 
-- Power-
Stein