For some reason, it was easier to imagine him taking his
release with a paid prostitute than with a woman he could become
emotionally tied to. Why the hell wasn’t he in love with the blond,
blue-eyed, petite Miss Prentice? What was wrong with the man,
anyway?
“No, don’t spy. Just take a look if you want
to.”
“I’d rather take a look at your Riley.”
“Stop calling him that. And what about
Egbert? You know, if you overlook his humorlessness and his snotty
manners, he’s quite dishy.”
“That’s a lot to overlook,” Carling said,
beginning with a small giggle. Then she laughed so hard the tears
pricked her eyes. “But I have thought the same thing, if we’re
being honest. Under his starched uniform, there seems to be quite a
strapping man.”
Sophie started to laugh, too, then covered
her glass when Carling tried to pour her more wine. Her thoughts
lurched from Egbert to Riley to one of her early conversations with
him.
“You know what we should do?” She moved her
hand and let Carling fill her glass after all. “We should head over
to the Barbary Coast.”
Carling’s hazel eyes became large as
doorstops. “Are you serious?”
Sophie nodded. Ever since Riley told her
about the wonders of the place, while sitting in bucolic Fuller’s
restaurant, she’d been dying to see it.
“What? You mean now?” Carling’s eyes darted
to the window and the darkness beyond.
“No better time,” Sophie said, standing up a
little wobbly. “After all, from what I know, they’re just getting
started over there. It doesn’t get into full swing until the wee
hours.”
“Full swing,” Carling echoed. “Jesus, Mary,
and Joseph!”
In half an hour, they were stepping off the
Presidio trolley on the corner of Union and Columbus with still a
few blocks to walk toward the water. Sophie was right, no one was
settling in for the night. Rather, the streets were busy and
getting more crowded with each passing moment, everyone seemingly
good-humored, jostling each other, moving in a general tide from
one building to the next.
Sophie and Carling held hands and moved
determinedly forward. At first, they dared not slow down for fear
of being swept into one of the seedier looking establishments, each
with a barker calling out the evening’s entertainment. Finally,
Sophie grabbed Carling into the nearest doorway.
“What are you doing?” Carling hissed, as a
man bumped into her, paused, eyed her up and down and then tipped
his hat. “Get on with you.” Carling turned her back.
“I decided we’d better jump in somewhere or
we’d end up in the bay. Besides, I hear music.”
Gripping each other more closely, they went
inside, astonished at the paintings of naked women that adorned the
walls. There was music, indeed, a small orchestra, but it was
definitely not the main attraction. Most of the patrons were men
and they were staring at a stage that contained dancing girls in
various stages of undress.
“Good God,” Sophie murmured.
“Too right,” Carling said. “I think we should
leave.”
“Wait,” Sophie murmured as the audience burst
into applause, cheers, and loud whistling. On the stage appeared a
woman in a large headdress, spangle-covered short corset above
which her nipples protruded, and see-though Turkish pants. A barker
on the street behind them yelled, “Just in time, folks, step in.
See Little Egypt and her exotic dance.”
“Hey, you.” They both turned as one to the
nearest table. A man their own age sat there, his tie undone, his
eyes glazed with alcohol. “Pretty girls. Take it off.”
“I beg your pardon.” Carling had her hands on
her hips.
“No begging, darling. Take off your
clothes.”
“Why, you!” Carling started to swing her
purse at the man’s head. Grabbing her hand, Sophie pulled her back
outside. The pleasant effect of their earlier wine had left her and
she was starting to feel a needling of fear. The next place they
went in was more of a gambling den, but
release with a paid prostitute than with a woman he could become
emotionally tied to. Why the hell wasn’t he in love with the blond,
blue-eyed, petite Miss Prentice? What was wrong with the man,
anyway?
“No, don’t spy. Just take a look if you want
to.”
“I’d rather take a look at your Riley.”
“Stop calling him that. And what about
Egbert? You know, if you overlook his humorlessness and his snotty
manners, he’s quite dishy.”
“That’s a lot to overlook,” Carling said,
beginning with a small giggle. Then she laughed so hard the tears
pricked her eyes. “But I have thought the same thing, if we’re
being honest. Under his starched uniform, there seems to be quite a
strapping man.”
Sophie started to laugh, too, then covered
her glass when Carling tried to pour her more wine. Her thoughts
lurched from Egbert to Riley to one of her early conversations with
him.
“You know what we should do?” She moved her
hand and let Carling fill her glass after all. “We should head over
to the Barbary Coast.”
Carling’s hazel eyes became large as
doorstops. “Are you serious?”
Sophie nodded. Ever since Riley told her
about the wonders of the place, while sitting in bucolic Fuller’s
restaurant, she’d been dying to see it.
“What? You mean now?” Carling’s eyes darted
to the window and the darkness beyond.
“No better time,” Sophie said, standing up a
little wobbly. “After all, from what I know, they’re just getting
started over there. It doesn’t get into full swing until the wee
hours.”
“Full swing,” Carling echoed. “Jesus, Mary,
and Joseph!”
In half an hour, they were stepping off the
Presidio trolley on the corner of Union and Columbus with still a
few blocks to walk toward the water. Sophie was right, no one was
settling in for the night. Rather, the streets were busy and
getting more crowded with each passing moment, everyone seemingly
good-humored, jostling each other, moving in a general tide from
one building to the next.
Sophie and Carling held hands and moved
determinedly forward. At first, they dared not slow down for fear
of being swept into one of the seedier looking establishments, each
with a barker calling out the evening’s entertainment. Finally,
Sophie grabbed Carling into the nearest doorway.
“What are you doing?” Carling hissed, as a
man bumped into her, paused, eyed her up and down and then tipped
his hat. “Get on with you.” Carling turned her back.
“I decided we’d better jump in somewhere or
we’d end up in the bay. Besides, I hear music.”
Gripping each other more closely, they went
inside, astonished at the paintings of naked women that adorned the
walls. There was music, indeed, a small orchestra, but it was
definitely not the main attraction. Most of the patrons were men
and they were staring at a stage that contained dancing girls in
various stages of undress.
“Good God,” Sophie murmured.
“Too right,” Carling said. “I think we should
leave.”
“Wait,” Sophie murmured as the audience burst
into applause, cheers, and loud whistling. On the stage appeared a
woman in a large headdress, spangle-covered short corset above
which her nipples protruded, and see-though Turkish pants. A barker
on the street behind them yelled, “Just in time, folks, step in.
See Little Egypt and her exotic dance.”
“Hey, you.” They both turned as one to the
nearest table. A man their own age sat there, his tie undone, his
eyes glazed with alcohol. “Pretty girls. Take it off.”
“I beg your pardon.” Carling had her hands on
her hips.
“No begging, darling. Take off your
clothes.”
“Why, you!” Carling started to swing her
purse at the man’s head. Grabbing her hand, Sophie pulled her back
outside. The pleasant effect of their earlier wine had left her and
she was starting to feel a needling of fear. The next place they
went in was more of a gambling den, but
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