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Chapter 1
BETH
“Honey, what’s wrong?” Mom’s voice was dry and cracked.
I held up a glass of water with a straw to her lips so that she could take a sip. “Why would anything be wrong?” I said lightly. Ever since her accident, I hated for her to worry. It wasn’t good for her.
Mom’s eyes, jewel green like mine, darkened. “Just because you never tell me things anymore doesn’t mean I don’t know. I’m still your mother. I can see you’ve been different recently.”
In her adjustable bed, she was a frail figure swallowed up by the sea of white sheets.
Afternoon sun filtered through the cracked blinds of our apartment, casting a dappled pattern of light and shadow across the bedroom. The television murmured in the background. This still, quiet world Mom inhabited was a million miles from the bustling chaos of Bordello, the club I spent most of my time in these days.
She could never understand all the things I worried about, and I didn’t want her to.
I smiled reassuringly. “Everything is fine.”
She sighed. “Is it your young man? If he makes you this sad, you should find a better one.”
I laughed. “There is no young man. And you just let me worry about things.” I took her delicate hand in mine, though she couldn’t feel it. “Bernie will be here soon. You need anything before I go?”
“Just for you to have a fun night with your friends for once.” Her voice was soft but edged with a stubborn strength. “It’s you I worry about, Beth.”
I sighed at our familiar conversation. “I’m not working too hard. What else is my youthful energy good for? I can handle it.”
“You’re not trying to get an extra shift tonight, are you?”
I fussed with her blanket, straightening a wrinkle that wasn’t there. “We need the money. You know that.”
The tips from my job at Bordello kept us afloat. It might be a place where rich men could buy whatever they desired, but they paid generously. With my lack of real-world experience, no other job was going to cover Nurse Bernie’s salary, Mom’s treatments, the rent, the groceries. Everything.
“Beth” she began, but was interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.
“Bernie!” I called out, relief washing over me. “We’re in here.”
In strode Bernie, smiling cheerily as always, carrying a bag of lychees that made my mouth water. Every week she brought Mom something new to try. She had been with us for three years now, her presence a godsend in our situation.
She whistled at my strappy sapphire blue silk and chiffon knee length dress, the delicate skirt draping and clinging to my hips.
“Girl, if I was forty years younger I would have tried shimmying into that myself! You got a date?”
I laughed. “I wish. You know I need to look nice for work.”
“Mmm hmm. You mean you need to give those men something to look at. You better be careful, honey. But damn, don’t you look gorgeous!”
“Bernie,” Mom admonished lightly. “Don’t encourage her.”
“I’m just a barmaid, Mom. Not one of the dancers.” I bent down to press a kiss on her forehead. “So there’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll see you both later. Have fun.”
With a final look, I grabbed my bag, and headed out, looking forward to trading the quiet vigilance of home for the cacophonous chaos of Bordello. Work was mayhem, but it was less exhausting in some ways.
I had another reason for looking forward to my shift. But I pushed that to the back of my mind as I strode down the busy London Street towards the tube station. The Bordello Club had strict rules. We mere barmaids were not permitted to even daydream about punters. Certainly not about billionaire businessmen with dangerous connections.
Suddenly I glanced back, wary of the odd feeling of being followed. This main road in Whitechapel was full of shops and always busy with people from every walk of life. Seeing nothing odd, I carried on walking. These past few weeks, I’d been feeling paranoid. As if I was being watched. Probably because Mom was always warning me of danger.
Just before I got to the tube station, my phone buzzed. I gritted my teeth when I saw it was a text from my ex-boyfriend of several weeks ago.
Toby:Hey babe, are you going to work tonight? Call me. Can we talk?
