Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Cole took his coat from where it lay folded on a rickety chair and put it on. “Go to sleep if you don’t want to join me. I’ll ask around in the Red Lily.”
Ned got up. “You sure you want to go there?”
Most people wouldn’t have noticed a change in Cole’s already-tense expression, but the muscles around his nose gave a gentle twitch. “I’m no child. You needn’t worry about me,” he said and opened the door, as if to make sure no further questions came his way.
Ned’s stomach sank when it occurred to him what else Cole might want in the Red Lily. Whores had satisfied his craving in the past, so what would stop him from seeking their services when Ned had been a disappointment? They hadn’t even kissed since entering the rented room, keeping their distance like strangers, though they were safe and could have touched at leisure.
Bile rose in Ned’s throat at the sole thought of Cole bedding someone else, but what was he to say?
That he assumed Cole would betray his trust?
That he was sorry about his body not working like a woman’s?
That maybe it was a sign their affection really was unnatural?
Cole cleared his throat, letting in the loud music from downstairs. “I’ll be back later.”
Ned shrugged. His heart was so empty even Scotch’s death couldn’t bring him joy anymore. When Cole left, Ned felt like screaming into the void. The room they spent so much money on to treat their travel-weary bones now felt too large, and too comfortable. Ned didn’t deserve to be here, enjoying sweet biscuits and clean water.
The urge to check up on Cole became too strong, so he peeked into the street through the heavy curtain in time to see Cole tipping his hat at a busty woman on the Red Lily’s porch. Ned’s feet moved to the door on their own accord.
The brightly lit saloon and its patrons were only a hindrance as he circled the mezzanine, ignored one of the women who got paid for dancing with the town’s men, and walked out into the street, his gaze filling with smoke when he walked into a cloud exhaled by a stranger in overalls. Any other time, Ned would have scowled at him for the offense, but the last thing he needed now was to get into a scrap.
The Red Lily lured him with its lights, and the fact that Cole must have already entered had his insides twitching in discomfort. He was about to go in when an older woman seated in a cushioned armchair clicked her tongue to draw his attention. The warm glow of lanterns softened the deep wrinkles marking her face, but it was clear enough that the satin finery she drowned in hid the body of someone who no longer actively worked with it. She did not bear the star-shaped scar, so she was owned by no one.
“What’s your pleasure, Sir?” she asked.
“Not sure. I’ll know when I see it.”
His pleasure lay in only one person beyond the door. That person might’ve carried the mark of a strumpet but was his. He wanted them back.
The woman nodded and showed him the door. “I’m sure we can satisfy any of your cravings. Welcome.”
Heat stabbed Ned’s groin when he wondered if this place also had men working on their backs. Cole had mentioned it being something a fellow could procure at times. Was this what Cole had really come here for? To see a male whore?
He mumbled his thanks and stepped into a dusky parlor filled with the dense odor of flowers. If Cole thought he could get another man for the deed, he had another thing coming. There was more to their relationship than lust, and Ned would not be replaced by just anyone.
A woman smiled at him as soon as she spotted that his gaze lingered on her, but he moved along the wall instead of approaching. The brothel was packed, as if the excitement of murder had warmed everyone’s blood. And so the men descended on the cathouse to spend their evening in the dense air made of sweat, perfume, and smoke.
Women were easy to spot, sensual ghosts in their pale gowns or shifts, while the men remained in their day clothes, chatting to the girls, dancing to a distorted tune from a phonograph, or drinking and playing Dominoes as a prelude to whatever deed they intended to do.
But Cole’s tall, dark figure was impossible to confuse with anyone else’s, and Ned leaned against a sofa that looked grand in the red illumination despite surely being old and worn under the sheet of velvet that covered it for easy washing.
In the other room, Cole stood in front of a young girl with a rather small bosom, his hat still on. Was he making a deal? Ned wanted Cole so bad he could hardly breathe, and the prospect of losing him to someone else was like a serrated dagger scraping at the middle of his chest in slow and painful preparation for cutting out his heart. Why had they argued in the first place? Everything had been fine just last night.