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“I don’t want to worry about money ever again. Don’t judge me too harshly.”
Aurora let out a long helpless breath and put an around Manuela. “I am not judging you. I amworriedabout you.” Manuela nodded, and let her friend pull her into a hard embrace.
“I just need a little bit of happiness, and I don’t want to feel guilty for it.”
“You deserve more,” Aurora said with a sigh.
“We all do,” Manuela argued, her eyes closed as they ascended the hill to Montmartre. “But right now, I don’t want to dwell on what I deserve. I want to take advantage of what I can have. What I want is to be in Cora Kemp Bristol’s bed until I get on that boat to Venezuela.”
Aurora’s laugh was pained as she pressed a kiss to Manuela’s cheek. “It figures you’d finally become pragmatic about something like this,” she said with a shake of her head. “You heart is too big, and you give it away too easily, and I think this duchess, even if it’s not her intention, could hurt you.” Manuela was certain of the fact. “I just hope wherever we are going won’t involve watching two people copulating...again.” Aurora shuddered and Manuela laughed at her friend’s horror.
“You are so squeamish, Aurora,” she teased, grateful for the change of subject. “You’d think with all the naked bodies you have to look at when you see patients, you’d be less sensitive to them.”
“Looking at a patient is very different than seeing a display of fellatio two feet away from my brand-new boots.” Aurora could be so delightfully dramatic.
“The chances of fellatio happening in front of you this evening are drastically lower than they were at Le Bureau.” She patted Aurora reassuringly on one knee.
“You are vile,” her friend said, pushing her playfully on the shoulder, then sighed again. “I will do my best to support you in this extremely ill-advised outing.” Manuela didn’t miss the trace of humor in her friend’s voice and decided to count it as a win.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me too soon. Are you certain this is safe, Manuela?” Aurora asked again, as their carriage neared the red awning with a sign of a black cat who appeared to be attempting a waltz. The street was teeming with people. She also noticed that there were many more women than men in front of Le Chat Tordu, some defiantly holding hands and canoodling in plain view.
“The Twisted Cat?” Aurora asked, looking up at the sign. “Truly, Manuela?”
“It’s probably more like The Inverted Cat,” she offered, which didn’t amuse her friend. “Only the women will be allowed in.” This seemed to ease Aurora’s nervousness. Minutes later they were standing on the street poised for Manuela’s next adventure.
“How do we get in?” Aurora asked, watching all the people milling around the entrance.
Manuela didn’t waste any time and pushed to the front of the queue with the deftness of someone accustomed to inserting herself in places she didn’t belong. “S’il vous plaît, madame,” she yelled, snagging the attention of a woman of intimidating stature who was guarding the door. Her legs were wide apart, her pinstriped shirt defiantly unbuttoned under her long coat. She raised an unimpressed eyebrow from under the brim of her cap in response to Manuela’s greeting.
“I am Manuela Caceres, and I’m here as a guest of Cassandra Aguzzi Durocher.” The woman narrowed her eyes, clearly taking stock of both Aurora and Manuela. After a long moment and more than one appreciative glance at Manuela’s décolletage, she pulled back a curtain and waved them inside.
“Mademoiselle Aguzzi is upstairs,” she grunted, immediately focusing again on the hopefuls who approached her.
“Is it even really a restaurant?” Aurora asked as the two of them pushed inside.
“From what Cassandra told me, most of the establishments in Montmartre of this sort began as communal tables,” she explained as they entered the room. “Many of the proprietresses hosted meals as a way to gather like-minded women. A place where they could safely meet and...commune,” Manuela concluded when she couldn’t find a more fitting word.
“It would figure that women come up with a way to gather and nourish each other, while men devise dens of vice and violence.” Aurora scoffed at the servers walking by holding trays laden with divinely smelling foods.
“Don’t be so harsh,” Manuela chastised. “I enjoyed my time at Le Bureau.”
“Because you landed on a duchess and you enjoy seeing me suffer,” her friend countered with humor, as they finally entered the main room.
Le Chat Tordu was not at all like Le Bureau. While the brothel in the Palais-Royal dazzled their clients with luxurious surroundings, this place was...simple. Clean and well-cared for, but a world away from the opulence of Le Bureau. Low lights did a lot to hide the scuffed wooden floors and threadbare furnishings. The art on the walls was not in gilded frames, and the staff was not in fine livery, but the women who seemed to cover every corner of the space made it heaven to Manuela.
So many women of all shapes and sizes. Of different races, but in here they all seemed at ease. High-society ladies in sumptuous gowns sitting in pleasant conversation with bluestockings in stark morning suits. There were card games and singing. The atmosphere as boisterous as it was carefree and safe. Like she could walk up to any of the many tables, sit down and be welcome.
There was something very different about a place that existed solely to cater to women who sought the company of other women. A brasserie not justàfemmes butpourfemmes.
“Aurora, esto es un paraiso femenino.” For a second she was irritated with Cora all over again for depriving her of this. But this place was so glorious she couldn’t even hang on to her irritation for long.
“Oh, look at the band.” The band, an all-woman quartet, was playing a lively piece that had the dancers in the room hopping around and laughing. A Black woman dressed in a set of trousers and jacket, much like the one Cora had worn that first night they met, was singing next to the musicians.
“Not a man in sight,” Aurora said, sounding pleased. “This is exceptional, Leona.” One thing was certain: Manuela might not have had much luck when it came to her parents, but the universe had blessed her with the absolute best of friends. Aurora might have agreed to come against her better judgment, but now that they were here, there wasn’t an iota of ambivalence even when faced with a room full of women openly touching, embracing, kissing each other...and more.
“This doesn’t bother you?” Manuela asked, giving Aurora a sideways glance. “You were practically running for the hills at Le Bureau.” She’d always wondered how she and Luz Alana could be so unwavering in their acceptance of her.
