Can't Buy Me Love

Alexis knew she was referring to Dylan. Were there cameras in that private dining room? “How did you know?”

Sunshine stepped aside and indicated a door near the fire exit. “Attic stairs.”

Alexis didn’t open the door. “Sunshine, how did you know about Dylan?” If their privacy had been invaded, she wanted to know about it.

“I saw your face.”

Her face? She’d always thought she was good about masking her emotions. And, hey, there weren’t any emotions to mask here, at least not the nostalgic kind. “Was it obvious?”

“Only to me, honey.”

A stranger could figure out that there had once been something between Dylan and Alexis? That was not good.

“Let’s go,” Sunshine urged.

Maybe she should bring it up with Vincent. That would probably be best, Alexis thought as she opened the door and started up the stairs. A casual mention that they’d dated in law school—but then he’d wonder why she hadn’t brought it up before. As she’d explained to her mother, the problem here was that there was no problem and as soon as you tried to explain that there wasn’t a problem, people immediately thought that there was a problem, only you were trying to hide the size of it.

Alexis was so lost in thought that she’d climbed halfway up an extremely dark and dusty staircase before the rickety handrail had her thinking that this couldn’t be meant for guests. Talk about a lawsuit waiting to happen. She turned around to mention it to Sunshine. It was so dark, Sunshine nearly disappeared in the gloom. In a trick of what light there was, Alexis thought she could see the stairs right through her. She blinked.

“Just a little farther,” Sunshine said.

“You should tell the manager to install more light here. I’m surprised the building inspectors have let this go.”

“I don’t think the building inspectors see this staircase.”

“That’s not really the point.” Alexis came to the door at the top of the stairs. She reached for the old-fashioned door handle. “Is that original to the building?”

“As far as I know. I’ll get the door.”

Alexis never saw her touch it, yet the door creaked open. “That sounds like original hardware, too. I can’t believe the owner isn’t maintaining it.”

And then Alexis forgot about hotel-maintenance problems because the sight of the attic room rendered her mute.

It was as though the picture of the former brothel’s soiled doves, which hung in Sunshine’s high rollers’ parlor, had come to life. A group of young women, dressed in Victorian dishabille, lounged around boxes, trunks, old sheet-covered furniture and generations of castoffs.

“I—I thought this was a private meeting…”

“Hey, girls! Here she is! This is Alexis O’Hara.”

A tiny dark-haired woman raised her arms in a swirl of vintage Chinese silk. “Brava!” She began to clap in the rhythmic European way. “Brava!”

The others began clapping, too. A redhead in cowboy boots and a bustier stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Yee haw!”

“You do us proud, cherie!”

“What’s going on?” Alexis wondered aloud. Was this like celebrating a birthday at a restaurant and having all the waiters sing? Brides at the Inn at Maiden Falls get a send-off party from costumed maids?

“Yes, yes. She has done well for herself.” A throaty voice boomed from behind a desk that Alexis swore hadn’t been there moments before.

A woman with green-tinged skin, black eyebrows and yellow pin-curled hair sat behind the desk. She was only green-tinged because of the light from the green Tiffany-style torch lamp.

The girls quieted.

“I am Miss Arlotta,” she announced. “You may approach.”

Okay, so she was like a really exclusive wedding coordinator. Alexis decided to play along with whatever skit they were acting out and walked over to the desk. Up close, Miss Arlotta looked straight out of the Madams ’R’ Us catalog.

Sunshine appeared at her side. “Miss Arlotta, Alexis has been offered a contract for marriage that pays her one—hundred—thousand—dollars a year.”

More clapping erupted.

“In gold?” Miss Arlotta asked. She looked at Alexis. “Always make sure it’s in gold.”

Gold. Alexis just stopped herself from laughing. “That’s good advice,” she said, playing her role…of what, she didn’t exactly know.

“And that’s not all!” Sunshine clapped her hands together and gave a little jump. “She also gets the money she would have made if she’d been working.”

Madam Arlotta sat back. “Well, now that is impressive.”

“Maybe not so impressive.” Alexis was being eyed by a sour-faced woman who plucked at the ties around her corseted waist. “Depends on how much she made.”

“I’m very good at what I do,” Alexis said.

The woman sniffed. “Hidden talents. Tricks. They always pay more for pervers—”

“Flo.” The woman immediately went silent. “Alexis is our guest.” Miss Arlotta stood and Alexis could see she was small for a woman with such a big voice. “We want you to know that though years and circumstances separate us, we celebrate what one of our own has accomplished for working women everywhere.”

“I—thank you.” This was just too weird.

“My Got. She vas showered viz more riches zan a royal courtesan.”

“I thought you were a royal courtesan, Countess,” Sunshine said.

“Zat is how I know zis.” The woman shrugged the silk robe over her shoulders. “I consider you my equal.”

Her equal? “And you were a courtesan?”

The Countess inclined her head. “Zat is so.”

“Like…a mistress.”

“Yes.”

The skit wasn’t as fun as it had been. “I’m not going to be a mistress. I’m getting married.”