The Vaudeville Star

by Nicola Italia

  “You only have to say the word, and King would buy you a dozen,” Bessie whispered.

  She shook her head. “No, Bess. The price would be too high.”

  By the time they left several hours later, Ruby had purchased everything she needed, and the packages would be wrapped and delivered to her the following day.

  Vernon had finally been able to secure a theater for their show in Paris via telegram. It had originally opened in 1889 as the Montagnes Russes but was renamed the Olympia in 1893. Vernon was excited to discover the theater as it had been founded by Joseph Oller, one of the creators of the Moulin Rouge, a nearby cabaret.

  The Olympia music hall was easily recognizable by its giant red letters announcing its name, and it played host to circuses and ballets and was delighted to welcome the American vaudeville show.

  The music hall recommended the small Hotel Chopin, located near the theater. They had been in business since 1846 and had a good reputation, so the theater told him. He knew it might not be as extravagant as some might hope, but he didn’t want to be too free with another’s man’s purse.

  With both the London Matinee Theatre and rooms at Durrants secured as well, Vernon was ready to alert everyone that they must begin packing. He would then secure passage on the appropriate ship once King had approved everything.

  He knew that King wanted to be involved in all aspects of the upcoming tour, and though it irritated him on some level, he was also thrilled to be living his dream. He was finally able to tour London and Paris, all due to the little blond who had been an absolute stranger to him.

  He didn’t know exactly what Ruby had done to secure the tour, and he didn’t want to know, but he was extremely grateful to her. She had made a lifelong dream of his come true.

  When Ruby returned from shopping at Bloomingdale’s with Bessie, a handwritten invitation had arrived for her to dine with King that evening. She sighed heavily. She wanted desperately to be onstage, but she didn’t welcome King’s attention. She donned the simple evening dress she had that wasn’t at all formal and took a taxicab to his opulent house.

  When she knocked on the door, she noticed black crepe adorning the knocker, and her heart thudded inside her chest. Was it possible that Caroline was dead? She must tread softly. He was in mourning.

  When she was shown into the library, King was already there, enjoying a glass of liquor. He came forward to greet her, kissing her on the cheek.

  “Dearest Ruby. You are always prompt,” he said as the clock chimed the hour.

  “I didn’t expect the invitation. I saw the door. You’re in mourning. I am very sorry.”

  King nodded and gestured to the bar. “What will you have?”

  “Nothing. Thank you. Was it, the death, was it sudden?”

  “Her heart, apparently. So the doctor said.”

  “Poor lady.”

  “Yes, but if I’ve learned one thing in life it is that we get only the one. We must not squander it.”

  He waved a hand before them, and as she walked to the dining room, she felt his hand at the small of her back.

  “Of course, now we are all in mourning, you understand. The servants, me,” King said as he helped push her into the chair, even though a footman stood behind them.

  “How long does the mourning last? I’m not being morbid, but curious to see if it is any different from the South,” she explained.

  King nodded. “Six months.”

  They dined quietly and retired to the small parlor. He poured a whiskey for himself while Ruby was content with coffee.

  “I wanted to dine with you to tell you in person about the death. So you would know,” he added.

  Ruby frowned. “I see . . .”

  “Also to let you know that once the mourning period is over, I would like to court you. Properly,” he said, smiling.

  Ruby stared at him. “C-court me? I don’t understand.”

  “I’m very fond of you, Ruby. You’re lovely and talented. You deserve to be mistress of a large house like this, not onstage for every man to drool over you.”

  “How can you offer to court me?” Ruby asked, shaking her head.

  It was King’s turn to frown. “My wife is dead. There is no hindrance.”

  Ruby closed her eyes. It was her very worst nightmare. Caroline was dead, freeing him to make a new marriage.

  “I enjoy being onstage, King. Very much so.” Ruby smiled. “I don’t think the men drool, as you say, as much as they enjoy the performance and being in the theater.”

  “Of course you enjoy it. It’s a fancy of yours.” He moved to sit beside her on the couch and took her hands in his. “But surely you can see it’s not right. Men stare at you, dear Ruby. They leer at your breasts and body. It’s unseemly,” he said, licking his lips.

  “I don’t think of it that way,” she said, a little frightened. “Perhaps some men do, but—”

  “Of course you don’t. You’re an innocent.” He brought one of her hands to his lips and kissed it lightly. “As my wife, it would not be proper for you to be onstage. It just isn’t done. You see that, surely?”

  “You attend the theater as well,” Ruby said, sidestepping his words about being his wife. “You don’t leer.”

  “Well, I’m different. I enjoy attending theater and supporting it. I always have. But as my wife,” he squeezed her hand, “I would never allow it.”

  She felt his other hand wander to her knee, and through the fabric, he squeezed it. She was taken aback by his actions and didn’t know how to react.

  “But I’m not your wife, King,” Ruby whispered, her throat suddenly very dry.

  “Not yet,” he said, smiling at her. “Not yet.”

  He dropped her hand suddenly and rang for the butler.

  “I’ve spoken to Vern and understand that everything is ready for the tour. We can talk more of this later. As I mentioned, my mourning period must be observed, so nothing can be discussed presently.”

  Ruby nodded woodenly but felt everything spinning out of her control. She knew without a doubt that she had no wish or desire to marry King. It was out of the question. But suddenly she felt compelled to play along for as long as she could because she owed him so much. Not only did she owe him, but the entire troupe was relying on him for the finances.

  “I must say it’s a damned nuisance. I was telling my mother—”

  “Ah, here you both are.” Alice came in at the exact moment King was speaking of her.

  “Allow me to offer my condolences to you,” Ruby said softly.

  Alice seemed confused and paused to lock eyes with King. She appeared startled and then regained herself.

  “Oh yes! Yes! Thank you, my dear. It was a shock to us all. Poor darling Caroline. She was like a daughter to me,” Alice said, sniffing. “A lovely girl.”

  King led Ruby out into the foyer and bid her good night. The door had not been closed a full second before he turned on his mother.

  “Laying it on a bit thick, weren’t you?” he said.

  “I don’t want Ruby to think I’m unsympathetic.”

  King gave her a cold look. “It seemed for a second there you didn’t even remember we were in mourning.”

  “Well, I have a lot on my mind,” Alice complained. “Much of the funeral arrangements fall to me. It’s tiring. Meanwhile, you’re off to London.”

  “Yes,” King said in a long drawl. “But I too still have certain arrangements to make before I go.”

  The next day, Caroline Parker’s obituary was printed in The New York Times, and much of New York was talking about it. King had amassed his wealth through certain business practices, many of which were honest, but a few were of not-so-honest means. He had many enemies and almost immediately there was talk that Caroline had died under abnormal circumstances.

  When Ruby awoke the next morning, she lay in bed listening to the bustle outside the window and tried to focus her mind. She had hoped stupidly that her rise to fame would be her own doing and she woul
d be proud of her achievement.

  But now it seemed she had fallen into a web of which she wanted no part. True, she wanted King to financially back the tour, and she wanted to shine, but she certainly wouldn’t give him anything short of her appreciation. She would never allow him access to her body simply for his help, and marriage to him was unacceptable.

  When the knock sounded, she bid enter as she flung back the bed covers.

  “Still in bed?” Bessie asked, carrying two cups of coffee with the newspaper under her arm.

  It was their ritual now to meet in the mornings over coffee and the paper. Bessie had asked Mrs. Hodges if she could prepare their coffee, and in lieu of a larger meal, she had agreed. Their landlady was happy to accommodate as the two women never caused her trouble.

  “I’m up,” she said, gratefully taking the coffee offered her.

  “Have you seen the paper?” Bessie asked as she handed it to her.

  “You mean the one you just handed me?” Ruby asked, smiling and taking both paper and coffee to the window seat.

  Bessie sat next to her. “Yes. That one.”

  “Silly you,” Ruby said, smoothing out the newspaper and sipping the coffee.

  When she came upon the obituary for Caroline Parker, she nodded. “Yes, I know.”

  “You know? How?”

  “I had dinner last night with King.”

  “Dinner?”

  “Yes.”

  “His wife just died,” Bessie said, her voice filled with accusation.

  “Believe me, it wasn’t my choice. I don’t welcome his attentions,” she told her friend. “In fact, the whole thing preys on my mind. I want to be onstage, and I want top billing. What I don’t want is to be King’s wife.”

  “His wife?” Bessie sounded shocked.

  “Yes. He’s made his intent clear.”

  “He could give you such a life,” Bessie added. “Are you certain you don’t want it?”

  Ford’s handsome face flashed into Ruby’s mind. “I’m absolutely certain. I know what I want. What I don’t want is King Parker.”

  “Hmmm. This is a pickle. He obviously desires you. What do you plan to do?”

  Ruby scanned the paper. “I’ve given it some thought. He has to remain in mourning. To do anything less would appear disrespectful.”

  “That’s true.”

  “I must bide my time. Tour London and Paris and hope that his desire wanes and that I can be free from his unwanted attention.”

  “It’s doubtful it will wane. He seems to be a man who gets what he wants. After all, he is the King of Manhattan!” Bessie said.

  “Well, King or no King, I don’t welcome his attention. And since I don’t want to put the tour in jeopardy, I’ll wait.”

  “I agree. You should wait. After all, he hasn’t done anything but talk. But what if waiting doesn’t work? What if after the period of mourning, he still wants you?”

  Ruby cast a glance out the window and pondered her words. It was easy to say she didn’t want King and that she would never be his wife. But such a dominating man wasn’t used to the word no. She wasn’t frightened, but she didn’t like the position she was in either. She would do what she must. She would go to Europe and keep King at arm’s length. She didn’t like to seem disingenuous, but she also didn’t want to be forced into a situation.

  “I don’t know, Bess. For now, I must wait.”

  Lourdes was pleased to see King as he entered the foyer of her town house and dismissed the butler immediately.

  “You didn’t send word, darling,” she said sweetly. “You usually do. Brandy?”

  He nodded. She poured two glasses and handed him one as she sipped the liquor from the other. She sat beside him on the small couch and ran her hand up his leg, touching his cock. He removed her hand.

  “Did you come to talk?” she asked, sitting back.

  “Not really. I always liked the way you decorated this parlor. Simple yet elegant.”

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Caroline is dead.”

  Lourdes heard the words, but it took her a moment to understand their full meaning. “I see.”

  “No soft words of condolence for me? About your rival’s death?”

  “She wasn’t my rival, King. She was your wife.”

  “Exactly so. You should show some respect.”

  Lourdes bowed her head a little. “I am sorry for your loss.”

  “You aren’t at all,” he sneered.

  “King—”

  “But never mind all that. She is dead, and there’s an end to it.”

  King stood suddenly, gulping down the drink and placing the glass aside. When she stood next to him, she tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but he shook it off.

  “As I said, I didn’t come here to talk.”

  With no soft words or kindness, King spun her around to face the sofa. Pulling up her skirts, he unbuttoned his trousers and kicked her legs apart.

  “King—” She tried to turn her head to look at him, but saw the darkness in his eyes.

  She knew better. He was in one of his moods, and the best thing to do was be silent and let him have his way. His hands grasped her hips as he thrust inside her.

  She felt one hand move to her hair, and suddenly he was yanking on her hair, pulling her head up sharply. She hated this side of him. When he was like this, there was no affection or kindness, just sex. And when he took her as he did now, she felt like a whore, bought and paid for.

  His hips slapped against her ass again and again. He didn’t care for her release, and she knew there would be none. This night, there would be no pleasure for her, only his.

  When he climaxed, he did so in several grunts, spilling his seed inside her. She prayed the seed would take root and give her the son she longed for. When he moved away from her, she stood up and smoothed down her skirts even as she felt his seed slide down her inner thigh.

  “You can keep the town house. I will make sure the deed is in your name,” he told her absently.

  Lourdes smiled. The deed had always been in his name. He was being generous.

  “Any jewels, furs, and such you can keep as well. It will be a clean break,” King said, picking up his gloves and hat.

  Lourdes clutched the side of the table as she heard the cold words. “What? King, what are you saying?”

  “Caroline is dead. So much the better.”

  “Yes, but how does that affect us? We can go on as before.”

  “Not as before, my dear. As I said, it must be a clean break.” He chuckled. “I sincerely doubt my new bride would like a mistress between us. Besides, I doubt I will want one for some months to come. She’s young and beautiful.”

  Lourdes felt a chill creep down her spine. The young singer. The blond. He was speaking of her.

  “You plan to marry already? Your wife is not yet cold in her grave,” Lourdes said hoarsely.

  King turned and advanced upon her. “You keep the town house, the furs, the jewels.”

  Lourdes nodded. She would say nothing more. She knew to argue with him now would be futile. He had a mean streak and could be violent. She had been bruised more than once by his hands.

  His fingers traced her lips, and then he pinched them shut. “And you keep that pretty little mouth shut. Understood?”

  Lourdes nodded as King smiled.

  “Good girl.”

  13

  Ruby surveyed the borrowed trunk that lay on the floor of her room. She had brought a small suitcase with her from school, but this trunk was larger and more suitable for ship traveling, and Bessie had graciously lent it to her. Ruby didn’t have that many clothes to choose from, but she was pleased to see her newly purchased clothes among the faded older ones. She had thought it odd to purchase the ready-made garments from the department store, but they were just as good.

  She was sure her mother and Pernetta would disagree, but she had enjoyed the entire shopping experience at Bloomingdale’s. Her clothes, gl
oves, and coat all lay in the steamer trunk as she looked about the room to see if anything else remained. They were leaving in two days.

  She had a few books that she had brought with her from Connecticut and her toiletries, but that was pretty much it. She was a little disheartened to realize that her whole life could be packed away into a single trunk.

  Meanwhile, down the hallway, she heard the Vadas sisters arguing over what they would take and what they should leave behind. Between the three sisters, they had enough garments to fill ten trunks, possibly more.

  Bessie knocked and entered the room. “You should hear the sisters fighting over their clothes. They are hilarious!”

  “I did hear them. Fighting over a dress or a garter. Ridiculous.” Ruby laughed.

  “You never had to fight over clothes?” Bessie asked.

  “I did. I had my older sister, Pernetta. Since she was older and my mother’s favorite, she got whatever she wanted. If she wanted a new dress, she only had to say so,” Ruby recalled.

  “And you?”

  “I wasn’t into dresses then. I only ever wanted one thing,” she said wistfully, thinking of Ford. “But my Daddy was generous with me. I never wanted for anything.”

  Bessie cast a glance at the trunk, which looked half-empty. “Are you missing something? Your trunk looks bare.”

  “I don’t have that much to pack. Besides, onstage I’ll be in costume. That reminds me. We need to stop at the theater to get the costumes to pack.”

  Bessie nodded. “We’ll do that after lunch. I’m starved.”

  After lunch, Ruby and Bessie stopped by the theater to pick up their costumes. Ruby had three costumes, including the orange and cream gown and a new red one with a plunging neckline that Bessie had handpicked for her. King had not seen the gown, but Vernon had whistled lowly when she modeled it for him.

  The third gown she had chosen was a striped gown of green and black that showed off her figure and had feathers along the bodice. It was pretty yet elegant, and she placed them together in her dressing room to pack them in the trunk.