Chapter 10
The mutilation of Yvonne Speers was a three-day sensation. Things were dull, news-wise, and the tabloids leaped on the story with avidity.
Yvonne was not talking, for which Noreen thanked God. Even in her pain and great mental distress, Yvonne refused to speak from her bed in the hospital. Though not a criminal in the ordinary sense of the word, she was on the fringe and kept faith with the criminal precept that you didn't squeal.
She insisted that she had been alone when two unknown hoodlums burst into her apartment. They had left ..her lying on the floor, screaming, and she had succeeded in staunching the flow of blood with towels. The police, called by some unknown party, had arrived about five minutes after the attackers fled. They were never arrested. There was a great deal of speculation in the press as to the motivation for the crime. Yvonne had no record as a "prossie," as the cops call whores, and Buddy Pressman came up with the theory that the men were dope addicts and maniac thrill seekers.
It was three days after the attack on Yvonne. Noreen and Teddy were sitting in the living room of his small apartment on Charles Street, in Greenwich Village. They had worked out a rather unique relationship, which both understood was temporary. Teddy worked five nights a week at the Sawbuck Club, on Third Street, and bought food and drinks and paid the other expenses. Noreen did the cooking and kept the place clean and tidy. She slept on the studio couch in the living room. She did not go out more than was absolutely necessary. On Teddy's advice she had gone to a hairdresser. Alphone, on Sixth Avenue, and had her hair dyed again. Still black. She got a new hairdo and spent some of her precious money on a couple of outfits from a store, on Union Square.
Teddy taught her a lot about makeup. How to change the contours of her face by the skillful use of eyebrow pencil, mascara, and rouge. She often sat on the bed in his room and watched him make up for his performance. He always dressed at home and, when he left the apartment to grab a taxi, was a lovely woman to all intents and purposes. He often made Noreen giggle by recounting the number of times that sailors had tried to pick him up.
Noreen, fascinated by what she was learning, could hardly blame the sailors. Teddy was an actor, for one thing. Or an actress, as he put it, and when he put on his rubber breasts and his girdle-which he didn't really need-and donned long stockings and high heels, with a form fitting evening gown, he actually would have fooled anyone. He wore a beautiful long curly wig of dark brown human hair, so cunningly fitted to his own head that it seemed a part of him.
"I've always got to watch myself," he quipped, "or I'll be going in the ladies room."
Teddy's pride and joy was the spinet which he had somehow managed to fit into the tiny apartment. He played often for Noreen. His taste ran to the classical, but for her he played a lot of pop stuff. One afternoon, a week after they had met, Noreen joined in and sang as Teddy toyed around with These Foolish Things. She sang it sweet and soft, with no strain or pain, in her natural contralto.
He looked at her in surprise. He was a little drunk again, having been hitting the bottle constantly since that horrible bloody afternoon.
"That's nice natural Irish voice," he said. "Easy, good timbre. I'll bet you could do something with that if you wanted to. You'll need a lot of coaching, though. Maybe a few voice lessons, but I'd say mostly coaching."
Noreen, slim and lovely in her new slacks and candy striped blouse-$9.99-ruffled his close cut hair. She had grown very fond of Teddy in the past week. She was using him, yes, but nonetheless she had a genuine affection for him.
"I want to be a singer," she told him. "More than anything." She told him about her singing in school, and how the teacher had encouraged her. How she used to sing for the kids back in Steel City.
"You've got the voice, honey. You don't have to know a hell of a lot about the technical aspects of music. But you do need training, coaching. Only that takes dough. Lots of dough."
"I ain't-I haven't got any money. You know that!" She was .wailing. She liked Teddy Phipps, and trusted his judgement. He had already helped her so much, with her English and general deportment-the way she spoke and walked and sat-and, as he said, he was trying to make a lady out of her. Well, anyway, a pseudo-lady. Now he thought she had a good voice. Really thought so, or he would not have said so. He had never lied to her.
"You'll have to go to work," Teddy said. "I'd help but I just haven't got it. The whiskey bills keep me broke, as you know. Tell you what I'll do, Noreen. I'll see if I can get you a job at the club. You wouldn't mind waiting tables and posing as a Lesbian?"
"Posing?"
"Yes." Teddy strummed impatiently on the keys. "I told you. I explained the setup at the Sawbuck Club. It's a tourist trap. Supposed to be a Les joint for the yokels to rubber at when they hit the Village. No self-respecting Les would be found dead in it, of course. They have their own camping ground. So Nick, he owns it as I told you also, he has to hire gals to dress butch. In drag, you know, and act like they're real queers so the yokels won't go back to Iowa disappointed. Nick hires a lot of girls from Columbia and NYU. Straight as a string. But they make a few bucks. I think I can get Nick to take you on if you're interested."
"How would I have to dress? I mean I can't afford to buy costumes or anything. Or do they furnish them?"
"No!" Teddy ran off a glissade, his white fingers twinkling. "I told you. You'll work in drag."
Noreen boxed his ears playfully. "You know how dumb I am. What in hell is that?"
"Dress butch. Men's clothes. Slacks, or a regular suit. Shirt, tie, everything just like a man. You're supposed to be a bull Les. You think you could do it? Some of the girls make a pretty good dollar."
"Yes. I think I'll try it. When can I start?"
Teddy said, "Hell, I'll have to fix it with Nick first. I think that part will be okay. But there is one thing-your hair. You'll have to have it cut like a man."
"Oh! No!" Noreen put her hands to her luxurious, shoulder length hair. "I couldn't. Anyway. I just got my new hairdo."
Teddy shrugged his thin shoulders and turned back to the spinet. "Suit yourself. But it's a job. And you might consider that cutting your hair, and dressing like a man, will be a hell of an effective disguise. About the best you can get. The cops won't be looking for a butch!"
Two days later Noreen went to work at the Saw-buck Club. It was housed in a long, low ceilinged, dingy room in a century old brick building on Third Street. The very heart of the Village. Everything about the Sawbuck Club was spurious.
It had only one thing to sell-SEX! Even that was phony. The Lesbian waitresses, as Noreen soon found out, were not really queer at all. Some were college girls, as Teddy had pointed out. Some were regular waitresses who could make more at the Sawbuck than elsewhere. One was an aspiring writer, another a painter, both fending off starvation by working at the club.
Noreen had her hair cut off and now wore it as a man, parted on the left. She spent the last of her money for some men's slacks and shirts, and a cheap suit. Teddy gave her some of his old ties.
"You make a beautiful butch," he told her. He was drinking that first night she went to work. "God, what a menage we have around here! A woman who isn't a woman and a man who isn't a man. Oh, well, here's to us, Noreen." And he downed half a glass of scotch.
The first night she made over twenty dollars in tips. Nick, the owner, showed her the ropes. "Keep the drinks moving," he commanded. "That's all you gotta do. Don't let the saps sit and nurse their glasses. Stay after them. Never serve water unless they ask for it a couple of times. Keep the peanut bowls filled. Peanuts make 'em thirsty. Never encourage any of the suckers to order food."
"They're crazy if they do," Noreen muttered. She had just eaten her dinner at the club, meals being included to partially make up for the pitiful two dollars a night that Nick paid.
"Another thing," Nick added. "Don't try to sell any beer. Never mention it. I gotta charge a buck a bottle for it and sometimes the hicks get mad. Push the hard stuff-that way they think they're getting more for their money."
For entertainment, in addition to Teddy, who was billed as the star attraction, there was a four piece band and a nance comic and MC. The MC told dirty stories and doubled in a couple of sexy blackout skits with Teddy.
Norren, watching Teddy perform that first night, felt a pang of sorrow for him. She knew him well now, and knew how much he hated what he was doing. But where else, as he put it himself, could he make two bills a week?
Teddy played and sang some of the old, nostalgic songs at first, then gradually slipped into the risque numbers. In the soft baby spots he was the sexiest looking "woman" that Noreen had ever seen. A great many of the tourists were fooled until the last minute, when he took his last bow and swept off the wig and bra.
Her fourth night at the club Teddy introduced Noreen to his agent, Mauri King, who had dropped past to pick up his ten percent of Teddy's check.
It was early and the club was nearly empty. The three of them sat a table. "Noreen wants to be a singer," Teddy told the agent after the introductions. "She's got a good natural voice, Mauri. With a little coaching I think she could go places."
"So do a million broads think they can go places."
"But I really can sing, Mr. King! If I could just get a chance. Teddy and I have been working together. He's taught me a lot."
Teddy nodded, his eyes cold with dislike for the agent. Mauri King was vermin, he had confided to Noreen, but necessary vermin.
"She's really got it, Mauri. I wish you would look around for a beginner's spot for her."
"I got a file of would-be canaries a mile long," he sputtered. "Christ, Teddy, you know that! Every dame comes to New York thinks she's the end. I got no time to fool with them all."
Teddy spoke curtly. "You might at least listen to her! As a favor to me!" He glanced around the nearly deserted club. "How about right now? No one much around and Nick won't mind."
The agent gave in, obviously to mollify Teddy who was making money for him. "Oh, all right. Only snap it up, huh? I gotta be uptown in half an hour."
As they went to the small stage at the rear of the room Teddy told Noreen: "He's a real lousy rat, this one, but he might be able to help you get started. No first class agent would take you on-not with your background. You can see that? No reputable agent is going to invest time and money in a girl who might be back in jail tomorrow. So we'll have to string along with this rat. Only never trust him. But we'll worry about all that later. Right now I want you to sing like I know you can. Don't be nervous:"
"I am a little."
"Forget it. Just imagine we're back at the apartment. Sing to me." Teddy, who was dressed for his act, spun the stool and adjusted the flounces of his gown. "Goddamn this dress! It costs me a fortune to keep it pressed!"
After a quavering beginning, because of nerves, Noreen went through These Foolish Tilings very well. She and Teddy had worked hard over the song. As she went into the reprise Teddy whispered. "Swell. You're doing okay. Now give it the old smaltzy ending."
As the song ended there was a spattering of applause from the semi-dark room. A large party had come in just as Noreen began.
"See," Teddy chuckled as he left the piano, "somebody likes you already."
When they got back to the table Mauri King said: "I gotta admit you're right about one thing, Teddy. The voice is there. Needs coaching, though. A lot of work."
Teddy nodded. "We know that. I'll help her all I can. And she'll get the coaching-that's why she's working in this joint, to get money for training."
King stood up, glancing at a huge gold watch on one skinny wrist. "I gotta run. Okay, I tell you what, Teddy. You get her a repertoire-say a couple dozen songs. Get her some decent clothes, teach her how to stand not with her gams apart like a bull moose. Then I'll see what I can do. Okay?"
"Okay. She'll be ready in a couple of months."
The agent shot Noreen a glance of disdain. "Yeah? That I'll have to see. Rut okay, try it. I got nothing to lose but my time. Say-" he looked closer at the girl-"you ain't a real butch? I can't sell no Lesbians."
Noreen found her voice. "Don't let the suit and the haircut fool you, Mr. King. I ai-I'm not queer."
"She just works here," Teddy put in. "And Noreen is a hell of a beautiful girl, Mauri. Wait until you see her dressed like one."
Noreen seized Teddy's hands, her gray eyes huge and shining with unshed tears. "Oh, Teddy! Teddy, you darling! Y-you did it!"
"Cut it out," he grinned. "Remember I'm a lady. You want people to think you're a real butch?"
"I don't care. I'm going to be a singer! A real singer. I've got a chance to be somebody at last. And you did it!"
Nothing could dampen her spirits that night. She floated through the evening on a purple cloud, even forgetting to shortchange the suckers when they got drunk. She had taken the first step toward her heart's desire-no matter how short the step or how tawdry the means. She was on her way.
That night, when Teddy came into the living room very drunk, she was more than glad to submit to him. It was her first experience with him, and it gave her no thrill as he did all he could do to her. But she held his sleek head in her hands and crooned to him softly out of gratitude and pity. She did not even mind that his strange love making left her stranded and unfulfilled. Teddy, on that night at least, could do no wrong.
After he had gone back to his own bed she lay sleepless for hours, gazing into the dark, wondering what marvelous things lay in store for her.