My Daughter, Audrey [ON HOLD]

The Showgirl

The door opened and Jennie, dressed in a pale pink robe, walked over to a table to fetch a cigarette. She smiled at Peter and beckoned him in with the motion of her finger.  Peter shuffled in and closed the door behind them.  He had never been in her dressing room before, and was astonished to find it quite relaxing and cozy. A record played a crooning love song in the background, his gaze drifted to the middle of the room, where Jennie Willis was seated. Peter took in her curvy hips and pleasant chest. She was very fit and pleasing to Peter’s young eyes.  His eyes then crept to her face. His lungs filled with air and his heart quickened at the sight of her sweet, angelic features. The girl’s eyes were large and expressive, her lips puckered and pensive.  He loved how her platinum blonde hair tumbled in full waves around her chiseled face.  Peter’s study of her physique was interrupted a few seconds later by her voice.

                “I want you to know, Mr. Holmes, that I rarely let any man into my room.  But I find you interesting and would like to get to know you.  My contract here restricts me from seeing anyone, but I don’t really care.”

                Peter was intrigued at Ms. Willis’s use of grammar—girls from the lower end of Liverpool talked just as bad as the boys, but Peter suspected that perhaps she had been privileged to an education.  He hated how he spoke, and when he was nervous his slang became heavier and was just awful. She opened her fair mouth again and said something that surprised Peter—she had taken an interest in him, more of one than he had thought.

                “The girls here say you’re ‘charming’ and ‘the quiet type.’”

                Not believing she was serious, he asked, a bit incredulously, “Ya playin’ me?”

                Jennie shook her head slowly.  “Not at all.”  She tapped the end of her cigarette, ridding it of any lingering ash, and breathed out a delicate puff of smoke.

                “They told me they haven’t had the pleasure of being in your company, so it must be something you’re a natural at.  Maybe it’s the way your eyes are. They’re large, blue, and thoughtful.  I always see them fixated on me, they’re very handsome.   Or,” Jennie paused to take another drag from her cigarette. “Perhaps the attraction comes from when you talk, you do have a boyish voice and your brows are very lovely.”

                Jennie smiled while trying to decipher Peter’s expression as he was thinking.  Her own brows tried to mirror his, but her attempt was unsuccessful and only resulted in her cheeks flushing a bright pink hue. “The girls were right, you are fetching.”

                Peter audibly cleared his throat and stuttered off onto another topic, “I understand, erm, ‘bout suppa, how does tomorrow sound, aye?  I’ll be sure to pick ya up on time. ‘N,’ not to take ya to some crummy place either.  I’ve saved up all me dough, hopefully cover us both.”   Peter babbled nervously as he felt beads of sweat trickle around his eyes and down his neck.  Seeing as Jennie did not utter a word, Peter spoke some more, “Erm, I know I’m making meself a daft fool ‘ere, but I jest wanna make things right, aye?  Don’t won’t to be a bother neither.”

                Jennie broke let out a soft laugh and walked up to Peter.  “You’re an interesting man, Peter Holmes.  And I won’t mind where you take me.   Anywhere but this wretched place.”

                 “Why don’t ya git away, lass?  Leave this place ‘n’ find a good proper one?  Not that I would know any.”

                 "I’ve thought about it, but what they charge here is enough for me. If I could find a steady job somewhere else, believe me, I’d leave this joint.  Might I ask you, young man, why are you hanging around a poor, silly showgirl like me?  There are plenty of marvelous young women waiting to have a man like you fawn all over them.  Why me?”  Jennie’s voice grew soft, and her eyes sad.  Peter could tell she didn’t want to be used once again, and he could see that she wanted him to prove that he wasn’t like the rest of the lot.

                 Peter wasn’t quite sure how to respond to her question, but he knew the truth of how he felt.  “Well, in all honesty, miss, I’m in love with you.  I’ve been ever since you came out on stage.  Sure, the more experienced girls can be charming and that—but there’s somethin’ different in you, and I saw it.”

                 Jennie stifled a laugh as she took out another cigarette.  “It wouldn’t work, love, you know that just as much as I do.  You’re a tailor, I’m a showgirl. And,” Jennie’s voice quieted and a wave of guilt covered her face.  “I’m not just a showgirl.   I please men off the stage as well.” She broke into a laugh of embarrassment, “Now do you want me?  I’m a tramp.”

                "I don’t care,” Peter said in desperation.  He meant it though—he didn’t care that she sold her soul in the night.  To him, she was beautiful. He had thought about an encounter such as this one, but now that he was face to face with her; alone and away from the crowds of people and clouds of smoke, he had lost all the words he had narrated in his head.   He had to think of something to break the mixed tension between them, but luckily, Jennie was the first to speak.

                “Anyway, if one of us quit, we won’t have enough to support the two of us.  You understand?”

                 Peter nodded his head sadly and went to leave before he was called back by the girl.   Peter looked at her, waiting for the words that were stuck on her tongue. She looked as if she had forgotten her message, but Peter knew it was her way of wanting him to stay longer.

                “I have to erm, beat it, you know, erm, me cat gits fussy when I’m away.” Peter explained, fidgeting with the cuffs of his shirt wildly.  He then smoothed the back of his short hair and looked around at objects that didn’t fascinate him at all when he had first entered.

                Jennie approached him, but didn’t make him feel intimidated; instead, she put him at ease.   “I wish you didn’t have to go.  I enjoy your company very much.  But, hopefully I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

                "Oh, yes, tomorrow.”   Peter replied, feeling an odd sensation dancing along his spine. He smiled nervously before dashing out of her room.

                Jennie stood there baffled.  He was awfully shy, but so was she.   Even though the jobs she had were public and risqué, deep inside, she was frightened and afraid.  She had trained her mind over the years to accept her position in the workforces—she did what she had to do to live and eat—no matter how it affected her emotionally. She wasn’t talkative either, but she had made an exception for Peter even though it took her much energy to keep the conversation going between them.  But the infatuated boy soothed her nerves more than anyone had ever succeeded in doing.  

                 Jennie was about to take a seat before the boy raced back.

                 “Sorry, lass, forgot to close the door behind me!” He tipped his hat and flashed his boyish smile.  He then shut the door softly and she heard him pitter-patter off down the hall.

                  Jennie smiled so wide her dimples showed and her cheeks grew sore.  She never had a beau, and she was quite excited about Peter.  She only hoped he would treat her as nicely as he seemed; the other men treated her like a queen and then abused her because they thought of her only to please themselves. But after all the times Peter had shown up to her performances, she could see the innocence in his eyes and the way he behaved told her that he wasn’t after her to abuse her, but to instead, dare she believe, take care of her.