It Stings So Sweet by Stephanie Draven Page B

on a regimen now, Miss Cartwright,” the orderly says. “The sedatives help.”
    Shebegins rocking, staring at me, scrutinizing my prim appearance andold-fashioned straw hat. “Letme see you, Clara. You know I don’t like it when I can’t see you.”
    Removing the pins from myhat, I slowly unfasten it, though I leave the gossamer scarf around my neck. When I look up at her,I say, “There. Now maybe I can read to you. Would you like me to read you a story?”
    “You washedyour face.”
    I wish I hadn’t. Without the ruby lips, the dark-lined eyes, and the rouge, I’msomehow more vulnerable. But I can’t leave my house like that without being recognized; people sometimesfollow me on the street and I don’t want them to follow me here. So I made myself as plain aspossible. “Every girl needs to give her skin some time to breathe, don’t you think?”
    She says,“I can still see your sin even without all your harlot’s paint. I know what you do at night withthe men who pant after you. Those men who give you all your baubles. I know any man can have you onyour knees by giving you something that sparkles, and they know it, too. You should be on your kneesbegging the Lord’s forgiveness.”
    I tell myself that her words can’t cut me. I won’t let them.Still, I pull my hat back from the table for fear she might grab at the pins. It would not be thefirst time she left me bleeding. “I’ve brought you some crossword puzzles. I know you like them. Youcan do one every day and when you’re done, I’ll send you more.”
    Normally, working at the puzzlessteadies her. Today she throws them on the floor. “One day, you’ll be sitting here alone, justlike me, Clara. Just like me. Except that at least I have a husband, worthless as he is. When yournerves are shot and they lock you up, who will care?”
    Unable to bear it even one more moment,I leap up from my chair and flee for the door, murmuring, “Hopefully, I’ll drink myself to deathlong before that happens.”

    At home, from the safe heightof my fancy penthouse apartment with its gilded furniture and velvet drapes, I find my stash inthe sideboard and pour myself a shot of hooch. Downing it too quickly, I cough at the burn. Then Iwipe my lips and hurriedly hide the evidence of my distress only moments before the doorman brings methe red roses and the note attached.
    The man who sent them is waiting downstairs.
    “Can’tyou shoo him away, Charlie?”
    “He’s not the sort to be given the bum’s rush, madam,” the doormanreplies.
    No, I don’t suppose he is. Leo Vanderberg has come at the worst time, but I find thatI want to see him. Maybe the reckless aviator is just the tonic I need. “Alright, send him up. Waitfifteen minutes, then have the car brought around, won’t you?”
    The penthouse, the doorman,and the driver are all perks of being a kept woman. I can afford them without Teddy Morgan’s generosity,of course. But like I said before, I never turn down a gift. The days when I was clawing forcrumbs in a cold one-bedroom apartment are over, but I haven’t forgotten them and I’m never goingback.
    When I hear the aviator’s footsteps in the hall, my pulse quickens. I can see his leanbody in my mind’s eye, and those dark looks, hot and heavy. I still remember what he whispered inmy ear, and it makes me a little shaky to think of it. I don’t have to guess what he wants.
    When he comes in, I don’t turn around right away. “Why, Mr. Vanderberg, I didn’t expect to see youagain so soon, much less bearing gifts,” I say, arranging the roses so the blooms are on fine display.I have to admit, their perfume lifts my spirits. “Are you falling in love with me?”
    “Of coursenot. That would ruin the whole arrangement.”
    I want to turn around and look him in the eye,but I don’t. “What arrangement would that be?”
    “The one where I’m planning to debauch you andyou’re planning to let me.”
    My lips part in amusement. “I’m afraid I