Chapter 10
Nothing had ever thrilled me as much as that convertible John bought me. To think that it was mine, mine alone, made me weak in the knees. I loved its pure white color and the custom-made leather seats. It had three times as many knobs, dials, and other things on the dashboard as our car. John explained what they were for, but I was too excited to listen. I learned where the switch, gasoline gauge, and the radio were, and I ignored the rest.
The next morning, I bought a fur neck piece and a new dress to match the car. I couldn't wait until I got to Parkville to show it off. I drove up and down the main street, acting real sophisticated when I received cat-calls and wolf whistles from men. When I drove down Railroad street where all the warehouses were, some of the men recognized me and yelled: "Hi, Wanda!" I parked my car in front of Grace's and while I waited for dates, I just sat and admired it. The guy from Joe's came around and nicked us for ten bucks again.
"That guy is really collecting," Shirley commented.
In the afternoon, we heard some good news. The mills were going to start up again, but it would be a couple of weeks before the men would get a paycheck and be able to spend money on me. I didn't tell Grace about my talk with Bill. I thought it better if I let her find out from someone else. If I got to stay with her, she'd really make a lot of money off of me.
I knew what Bill was going to do to me. I'd seen it done to other chippies. In every red light district, there are one or two prostitutes who become better known than the rest. It isn't the beginner who becomes popular, but the gal who knows the ropes and has had the experience to show the men a good time.
In a lot of cases, the fame is due to the chippy's own eagerness to earn money, but part of her fame can come from her pimp or vice lords. It's easier to brag about one prostitute than it is a dozen different girls or the entire red light district. Not only in Parkville, but also in the surrounding cities, my name would be mentioned in bars, taverns, and other places.
A girl's fame lasts until she leaves town or another girl starts taking her customers away from her. It used to be Margie who was so popular and she was the prostitute that men "ought to go visit." Soon, it would be me. That is, if I could live up to the claims that the men would make about me.
I would become the most notorious woman in town and it would be impossible for me to walk down the street and not be recognized. The comics in the night clubs and strip joints would start giving me plugs. They would tell the jokes about me that they were now telling about Margie.
But the satisfaction wouldn't come from the extra money that I'd earn, but the way I would be treated. The other whores on Green street would talk about me, some would envy me. The Madame would treat me like a queen. I was getting a taste of this royal treatment from Grace and I wanted all of it. At Blanche's, her favorite girl was waited on hand and foot and whatever she wanted, Blanche got for her. If she didn't, her pimp did.
I made the men pay. In doing so, I was smarter than the girls who put out and didn't collect. Sure, I knew the dangers of prostitution. The chances of getting diseased, the shame and disgrace, or the dangers of ending up on skid row. But I went to the doctor each week and took very good care of myself. With modern drugs, medicine, and medical knowledge that's available, venereal disease is not the prostitute-killer that it once was.
As for ending up on skid row, I laughed at that. I was smart enough to stay away from drugs and heroin and I wasn't about to become a drug addict or an alcoholic. When I got older, I would simply quit hustling. Meanwhile, I would enjoy the luxuries, the nice clothes, and the other things that I could afford. What could put me on skid row?
As for the shame and the stigma of prostitution, I had that whipped too. I lived in one city and hustled in another. A chippy doesn't feel ashamed of what she does when she's in a cat-house. It's only in certain situations when she feels the shame. I had learned how to duck most of those situations.
Just before I left Grace's that night, Bill called. He said he'd be down the following afternoon to discuss business with Grace and me. Although he didn't say so, the business would be how my earnings were to be divided up. Under the present deal, Grace and I split the ten bucks, but the boys weren't going to handle me for free. I imagined that my earnings would be divided equally between Grace, Bill, and myself. Instead of half, I would get a third, but perhaps I would earn more in the long run.
As I left, I told Grace that I'd be back the next evening and whatever deal she and Bill made would be O.K. with me. I was more concerned about my date with Tom and I wasn't going to break it.
The next day, I left my car in a public garage and took the bus for Parkville. Margie was on the bus when I got on. She was returning from her monthly visit to her husband. The only time she left the red light district was to go up to the prison to see him. She moved over and sat beside me.
T hear that Bill has turned up your thermostats," she said.
"I guess so," I answered.
"They'll do to you what they've done to me."
"You haven't done so bad. I don't see what you've got to kick about."
"Nothing, I guess," Margie hunched her shoulders. "I asked for it, the same way you have. But if you're smart, you'll get out now while you can."
Her preaching made me mad. I was jealous of her because she was more popular than I was. I knew that she hated me because I had been taking customers away from her.
"So you can still be the favorite?" I sneered.
"No, I'm about through in this town. The men are getting tired of me," Margie answered. "I guess I'll get me a girl and watch her make the mistakes I made. I was just trying to help you."
"I can imagine."
"Honey, they'll teach you what a dirty word 'prostitute' really is," Margie answered. "You'll do things that you'll even be ashamed to tell another prostitute. You're not a prostitute yet. Wait until they get through with you and you'll know what whoring is really like! It's not as easy as you think it is."
Before I could answer, she moved to another seat. Every time I looked back at her, she had her head leaned back and her eyes closed. She was still young and attractive and she could do O.K. in another town. But she had a good deal in Parkville and she didn't want to leave it. She didn't want to give up her customers or become a has-been. In Parkville, she already was a has-been, but she didn't know it.
I knew what some of the men were saying about her. She used to be good sporting but she was all played out Still, she had plenty to offer the guys and she would be rough competition for me.
I watched her hail a taxi, as if she couldn't wait to get back to Green street. Tom hadn't arrived at the depot yet, so I went up to our little cafe to wait For my date with Tom, I wore a plain blue suit that I'd had for sometime, and very little make-up.
No one looked at me when I walked up the street. Yesterday, in my convertible, I had raised plenty of cat-calls and whistles. In the rear booth, I ordered coffee and waited. Our date would be in the daylight and there would be little chance for any lovemaking. I was glad in a way, but it didn't solve my problem. Sooner or later, I knew that I'd let down my barriers and give myself to Tom.
Three men came in and sat down together at the counter. I recognized them as steady customers of mine and two of them had often visited me together. They gave me a brief glance, but none of them recognized me. I lit a cigarette and listened to their talk.
One of them had been to a strip tease act the night before and he was telling the other two some of the jokes he had heard. They were talking so low I heard very little, but I heard him mention "Wanda the Whore" several times. I didn't catch the ending of the joke, but it was something about how many customers I took on.
The men laughed and bent their heads close together. I heard one of them remark: "She's that little brunette at Grace's."
It amused me to hear the men talk about me and not recognize me. Just by changing my hair-do a little, the make-up I wore, and my dress, I was a different person. It gave me a smug satisfaction to know that I could meet my customers out on the street and not be recognized by them.
I saw Tom go past the cafe. I paid for my coffee and I was conscious of one of the men staring at my legs when I went out. They still didn't recognize me. I caught Tom just before he went into the depot. Since he had to catch an early bus, we hurried to the show. At first, he put his arm around me, but people looked at us, so he took it down and just held my hand.
"Wanda, I think you're wonderful," he whispered in my ear. I turned and smiled at him. He bent forward again, "Darling, I could really care for you."
His words thrilled me and I had been wanting to hear him say them, but they also troubled me. There were so many things that I had to tell him-that I was married and was a prostitute. He was starting to get serious. I liked it and I had been hoping he would. But I still had to tell him about myself and in such a way that he would understand.
All during the show, I kept thinking about how to tell him. It was almost six when we got out of the show and we had to hurry to catch his bus. We didn't have much time to talk and I wondered if this was the time to tell him. He said something about my being wonderful again and I said something about him feeding his line to all the women and I dropped a hint about the scarlet women here in Parkville.
"You mean those girls on Green street," he laughed. I felt the color rise to my face.
T suppose you don't ever go see them?" I kept my face straight ahead and looked at Tom out of the corner of my eye.
"No thanks," he said gruffly and he acted insulted. "I wouldn't be caught dead in one of those places."
"How about alive?" I giggled.
T said no thanks," he answered. "I don't care to have anything to do with a woman who has that little pride in herself."
The crimson went deeper into my cheeks and the street swam before my eyes. I gripped his hand and tried to think of something to say. I wanted to tell him, but if I did, I would lose him. I had to find a way so that he would understand and wouldn't hold it against me. I didn't want to risk losing his love.
They were loading the bus when we got there. Tom bought his ticket and at the door, took me into his arms and kissed me. I closed my eyes. I had the fear that this might be the last time I would ever kiss him and I tried to show him all the feeling and affection that I had for him.