Winds of the Storm

by Beverly Jenkins

  “Yes, I did. The repairs shouldn’t take much time.”

  “Good. I heard the sisters were having to put out buckets when it rains,” Juliana said. “The newspapers are reporting more lynchings.”

  “More and more people are being terrorized by the Leaguers and Kluxers. Something has to be done.”

  “What are the Republicans going to do?” Beau asked.

  Archer replied with disgust, “They’re so busy fighting with each other, the whole population could vanish overnight and they’d not notice.”

  Archer was becoming more and more disillusioned with both the Republicans and politics as a whole. In Louisiana bribes and patronage ruled. Bills were passed to raise the pay of everyone from the governor down to the postmaster, but bills designed to ban the noxius Black Codes languished like a spinster at a dance. On the House floor the other day, he’d watched representatives shout themselves hoarse in attempts to get some meaningful legislation passed, but to no avail. In the face of all the deaths caused by the supremacists, and the indifference shown by the powers that be, many of the Black Civil War vets were of a mind to leave the talk behind and take up a gun to protect their families; Archer was in full agreement. He and other Republicans were patrolling nightly in hopes their presence would deter the actions of the night riders but they weren’t being very successful it seemed.

  Zahra and the girls were enjoying the breakfast provided by a local woman hired yesterday to be the house’s cook. While the girls chattered around her, Zahra’s mind was on Archer Le Veq. He’d promised to bring the catering contract over this morning and she found herself anticipating the visit.

  ”Are you listening, Domino?”

  Zahra swung her attention to the twin voices of Salome and Naomi. They spoke in tandem most of the time, a practice Zahra and the other girls found quite amusing. “No, I wasn’t. My apologies. What did you say.”

  “We said, we want to work the voyeur room opening night. That is if it’s okay with you and everybody else.”

  Hiding her surprise behind her raised coffee cup, Zahra looked around the table at the smiling women dressed in their wrappers and morning growns. “Does anyone have any objections?”

  There were none.

  Later that morning, Zahra was in her office composing a letter to her parents. She missed them dearly and wanted to let them know. A knock on the door caused her to look up. “Come in,” she called, and slipped the letter beneath some papers on the desktop.

  It was Alfred. “Mr. Le Veq’s downstairs. Shall I send him up?”

  “Yes, please,” she managed to say easily. “Thank you, Alfred.”

  He departed and Zahra used the time alone to pull on a pair of crocheted gloves to hide her still tingling hands and to compose herself. The moment Alfred announced Le Veq’s arrival her heart had begun pounding, but she was determined to maintain control and not let his charm and golden good looks render her as nervous as they had yesterday. She hadn’t known what to expect then, but she did now.

  When he entered the office, she stood. He was again well dressed and his eyes met hers with a sparkle that seemed to look past her mask and into her true self.

  “Good morning, Domino.”

  “Mr. Le Veq. Please, have a seat. Would you care for refreshments?”

  “Café would be fine, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  Noticing Alfred standing on the threshold for the first time, and the displeasure on his face as he studied Le Veq, Zahra said to her giant driver, “Would you have one of the maids bring us some café, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As he turned to depart, Zahra made a mental note to speak with him later. He apparently didn’t care for the Black Frenchman, and Zahra wanted to know if he had a legitimate reason, because if he did, she needed to hear it. “Thank you for coming.”

  “You’re welcome. Your décor downstairs is quite…stimulating.”

  “It is what we are about, after all,” she stated more easily than she felt. “When we’re done here, I can give you a tour if you’d like.”

  He inclined his head. “I’d like that. Would you care to see the contract now?”

  Zahra studied the clauses and terms while they awaited the coffee. The maid Suzette delivered the brew a short time later, and once she withdrew, Zahra set the contract aside and asked him, “Shall I pour?”

  “Please.”

  Cognizant of his interest and doing her best to appear nonchalant, Zahra stood and poured the dark liquid from the pot into two cups. Cognizant also of his nearness, she congratulated herself on completing the task without incident. Handing him one of the cups her fingers brushed his and only Zahra’s discipline kept her from overtly reacting to the sweet shock that erupted from the accidental touch. He was watching her too and seemed well aware of the effect he was having on her. Her sense that he was secretly amused by that knowledge made her all the more determined to maintain an outwardly show of calm even if she was becoming a wreck on the inside. Taking her seat, she picked up the contract and began reading again, hoping it would give her something to concentrate on besides him.

  Archer sipped from his cup and was admittedly taken by her beauty. She was in red today and her matching domino was piped in gold. The deep cut of the gown’s bodice showed off the comely swells of her breasts and he wondered if her brown skin would be as soft to the touch as it appeared. Forcing his attention back up to her face, he took in the outline of her jaw, the sensuous slope of her throat and decided that no matter how long it took, she would be his, willingly, even if only for one night. Her pull on his senses was too strong, her aura too captivating not to pursue. “Are the terms to your liking?”

  “They are. It may be necessary for me to extend the contract if I can’t find a suitable chef to hire soon. Would that create problems for you?”

  “Not in the least. We can alter the arrangement at any time. Just let me know.”

  Satisfied with his answer, Zahra picked up a pen and signed her name. “While that dries would you care to see the house?”

  Archer drained his cup, then stood. Bowing gallantly toward the door, he said to her, “After you, madam.”

  Out in the hallway, Zahra led him from her second-floor office and around the balcony that overlooked the large downstairs room. “Do you like to gamble, Mr. Le Veq?”

  “Depends on what’s at stake. Are you the prize?”

  She looked up. “No.”

  “Pity.”

  She shook her head with amusement. “I asked that because we have a room for the gamblers and I wanted to get your opinion.”

  “And I asked because I’d wager my hotel to win you.”

  She stopped. “Really?” The skepticism in her tone matched her pose. Before he could form an answer, she asked, “What sound-minded woman would believe such poppycock?”

  The golden lips twitched with amusement. “Let’s just say, you’d be amazed.”

  Zahra enjoyed the smile gleaming in his eyes. It was apparent that he was a man who also liked to play. “How about we go and see the gambling room?”

  His attraction to her growing by leaps and bounds, Archer nodded and let her lead the way.

  He found the gambling room much to his liking. The dark wood tables and chairs gave the place a masculine feel. There appeared to be ample space to get up and stretch one’s legs and the French doors would allow access to fresh air for those who needed it.

  “So what do you think?” she asked him.

  “Of the room, or present company?”

  “The room, Mr. Le Veq,” she replied with mock exasperation.”

  “I’d much rather offer my opinion of you.”

  His soft-toned response rippled over Zahra like a breeze in summer. “You’re very persistent.”

  “With you, any man must be.”

  “Astute and handsome. That’s quite the combination.”

  “They serve me well.”

  Zahra was enjoying the banter more than sh
e cared to admit. A woman would have to be mentally adept to stay ahead of him, but she considered herself well qualified for the challenge.

  Archer stared down at her masked face. He was enjoying her very much. “The gamblers will find this room most suitable.”

  “Good. Would you like to view more?” Upon seeing the light of mischief glittering in his dark eyes, she added quickly before he could respond provocatively, “See more of the house.”

  That appeared to please him, “You’re learning quickly, madam.”

  “A necessity I’m finding.”

  Archer let her show him the rest of the place and he had to admit he’d never seen so such naked flesh in his life. Nudes were everywhere, but none held his interest for long. No matter how provocative the surroundings, his attention kept returning to Domino.

  She then introduced him to her girls. Philippe had been correct, they were all very lovely, but in Archer’s opinion none could hold a candle to the lady in the mask. She finally led him back to the office and he folded up the now-dry contract and slipped it into his coat pocket.

  She said to him, “Thank you again.”

  “You’re welcome, and thank you for the tour.”

  “Shall I walk you downstairs?”

  “I’d enjoy that.”

  Zahra escorted him out of the office and then down the staircase where Adam and Eve stood posed in perpetual rapture.

  He said to her, “Quite a statue.”

  “It is that.”

  She could feel him watching her, but Zahra pretended not to notice so she wouldn’t have to meet his eyes, or say more.

  At the door, Alfred was waiting like the doorman at a hotel and as soon as she and Le Veq approached he opened it as if signalling the Frenchman not to delay his departure. Zahra shook her head. “Alfred, will you go see if the cook needs anything before you and Suzette head off to the market.”

  It was a nonsensical request, and both she and Alfred knew it, but she couldn’t have him glaring at the man who would be providing the food for their opening gala.

  After Alfred’s departure, Archer asked, “Is he just protective or in love with you?”

  “The former.”

  “Then tell him he’s doing a damn good job because he scares me to death.”

  She chuckled. “I will let him know.”

  Archer liked seeing her smile. “What excuse shall I use to call on you again tomorrow.”

  “I’m certain you will think of something,” Zahra replied in a voice far quieter than she’d intended. She extended her hand. “Thank you again.”

  “My pleasure.” He took her hand and raised the fingertips to his lips. The faint pressure coupled with the lure in his eyes was just enough to make her knees weaken, and when he let her go, her heart was racing.

  “Until tomorrow,” he promised, and then he was gone.

  That evening, Chloe asked, “Do you have a program for opening night worked out, Domino?”

  Zahra did not. She hid her ignorance of whorehouse etiquette by saying, “I’d hoped we could come up with a plan as a group. Any ideas? You all know your strengths better than I. What would you be comfortable doing?”

  “Besides back work?” Stella Summers, the oldest of the women, asked.

  They all chuckled.

  Chloe said, “Well, I play the piano and have a passable voice.”

  Lovey spoke up next. “I do a dance an old madame of mine called the Dance of the Seven Veils.”

  Zahra was almost afraid to ask. “And it entails?”

  “Me dancing and removing the veils one by one.”

  “Sounds like just what we’re looking for,” Zahra said, chuckling.

  “Stella and I have performed on stage,” Adair added. “We know quite a few ribald songs and poems.”

  “Well, then it’s agreed. We’ll put on a show opening night, highlighting our talents.”

  Her emphasis on the word evoked a few chuckles.

  Matilda said, “Most places I’ve worked, you take the man upstairs, he pays, he leaves, and you pick out the next man. But a place like this calls for something excitin’!”

  “I think so, too, Matilda. If the entertainment proves successful, I believe we shall call our establishment a gentleman’s club.”

  Chloe said, “Sounds a lot more highfalutin than a whorehouse.” Then she said in a mock haughty voice, “Madame Domino’s Gentleman’s Club.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “Then let’s get to work,” Lovey said enthusiastically.

  For the next hour Zahra and her girls put together an opening night program both scandalous and entertaining. She had no idea how the customers would view the various performances, but since they were men, she’d be willing to bet they’d be ecstatic.

  The girls went off to rehearse, and Zahra headed to her office. She thought back on her meeting with the seductive and handsome Black Frenchman Archer Le Veq. For all of her training and inner strength, she’d found herself affected like a virgin with a Lothario. His voice, his eyes, the brushing of his lips across the back of her hand had been the practiced moves of a man who could tempt a woman across time. But she was here to do a job, not become Archer Le Veq’s next bauble. The fact that he was gens de coleur was a mark against him in some ways. Granted, Le Veq and the rest of his class were known for their wealth and their ancestral ties to France and Spain, but they’d owned slaves. They’d also considered themselves distinct enough from the rest of the Blacks in the country to have met with Lincoln during the war in an effort to have themselves declared a separate class and thus eligible for the rights inherent in such a designation, but the effort had failed. Only after the war had the Creoles of Color, as some called them, resigned themselves to the realization that their elevated status meant nothing to the country. To the nation, gens de coleur was just another way of saying Blacks; as a consequence, they’d been lumped in with the rest of the race. Zahra did applaud the Creoles for their recent efforts on the freedmen’s behalf and their decision to link their fate to the race, but she wondered how strong the commitment would be had Lincoln approved their request.

  The next morning, Zahra asked Alfred, “How much do you think you can find out about Le Veq with you being new to the city?”

  He shrugged. “There are ways, especially if he owns a hotel here. He’s undoubtedly well known. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

  “See what you can do.” Then, changing her tone, she asked, “What are your plans for the day?”

  “We’re still trying to find my cousin Roland a place to let. He prefers not to live in the center of the city where most of the boarding houses that rent to us are—too much crime and other dangerous carryings-on, so we keep looking.”

  “I hope he’ll be situated soon. In the meantime, I’ve another task for you.”

  He smiled, “Does your mind ever rest?”

  “Not as far as I know,” she tossed back.

  He shook his head with amusement. “What do you need done?”

  “We need to purchase a less ostentatious coach. There may be times when I’ll want to move about the city anonymously, so our candy apple coach won’t do.”

  “I agree.”

  She opened one of the desk drawers and withdrew some bills, which she handed to him. “Have your cousin handle the transaction. His face isn’t as known. Tell him he may use the coach as his own except for those times when I need to.”

  Alfred nodded. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. No one is to be in this office if I’m not here. Not the girls. Not the servants. We don’t want anyone nosing around our strongbox.”

  “Understood. Anything else?”

  She ran her eyes over the large knot on the crown of his prominent nose. “How’d you break your nose?”

  He smiled at her endless curiosity. “Slavery. I was a boxer. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

  “I’d be real interested.”

  “All right, I’m leaving now, Zahra. Is there anything
else?”

  “One more thing.”

  He chuckled. “And it is?”

  “Must you glare at Le Veq?”

  He studied her for a moment, then replied, “Yes, I must.”

  “And your reason.”

  “Don’t like him. Too pretty, too Creole.”

  Zahra smiled. “Well, just in case we have to call upon him for something important, can you at least pretend to be nice.”

  He paused for a moment, then said, “I suppose.”

  “Thank you, Alfred.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  After his departure, Zahra thought it best she find out all she could about the suave Mr. Archer Le Veq. Who knew what direction this mission might take, and if she did indeed need outside help, knowing as much about Le Veq as possible could aid her decision as to whether to reveal her plans to him or not. Having full knowledge of him might also help her deal with him on a personal level. He seemed set upon winning her and although she was flattered by his interest, she had no plans to succumb no matter how much she enjoyed his flirting. Admittedly, she’d never been pursued this way before. The eligible men back home had never kissed her hand nor showed any appreciation for her wit. Le Veq had done both and as a result she felt desirable, almost powerful in a womanly sort of fashion. She wasn’t sure where those feelings would lead, but she did know that while being around Le Veq was thrilling, she hadn’t come to New Orleans to be thrilled. She’d come here to do a job, and if snooping around in Le Veq’s life would help her build up the defenses necessary to keep his passionate pursuit at bay, that’s what she’d do.

  However, the moment Lovey knocked on the door and said Le Veq was downstairs waiting, all of Zahra’s resolve momentarily crumbled. She was filled with an uncharacteristic excitement that she forced herself not to acknowledge.

  “Should I bring him up?” Lovey asked.

  “Would you please?”

  “Man like that make a woman’s teeth ache just looking at him.”

  Zahra smiled and Lovey left.

  Calmer now, Zahra walked over to the French doors to wait.

  “Afternoon, Domino.”