Maiden & Maid
St George Street went a block before the St George Green opened up to their left, bracketed by Second and Third. It was surrounded by an iron fence, a gate with a chain and padlock securing it.
“Always seemed welcoming when I walked through this neighborhood.” Kid motioned at the gate. “The chains give it a real ambiance.”
“Not really a park.” Jerk gestured at the homes surrounding the green. “It’s their lawn. The ones who look out their windows, anyway.”
They crossed Second, and then across St George Street. Jerk released Kid’s hand, motioned to the building on the southwest corner of the intersection. “Carmen’s is in the old servant’s quarters around back.”
The building rose on the corner like a brick fortress trying to keep the city out–or the residents inside. On the corner was a turret with windows too narrow to be useful or trusted. The rest looked like they had been staring over the corner and St George Green so long they’d grown bored.
“This place? Street kids say it’s a convent.” Kid said, looking up. The building loomed over them, waiting to rap their knuckles with a ruler.
“They ran out of nuns in the sixties.” Jerk said, shrugging. “Apartments now.” A courtyard behind the building was enclosed by ivy covered brick walls and the square and plain servant’s quarters. They entered through a grate door in the wall that glided open and closed easily and silently, the only sound the gentle rattle of the latch.
The cobblestone courtyard was empty except for them and fallen leaves. The main building’s back door was a drab brown that matched the brick. The main door into the servants quarters was the lush green of Kentucky Bluegrass. The small plaque beside the door read Maiden & Maid.
“This is Maiden & Maid?” Kid said reverently. “I heard they do drag shows here.”
“They do those upstairs, I think.” Jerk said. He held the door open. “After you.”
Kid stepped down into the darkness. The smell of coffee and faint cigarette smoke rose to meet them.
“Welcome home.” Said a shape moving tables. Her voice was lilac and gravel, with a whisper of decades of sizzling drags off cigarettes as accompaniment.
Jerk stepped in beside Kid. “Jerk! Your hair!” Kid’s eyes were adjusting. Their host’s hair was thick and white shot through with black, slicked back and perfectly coifed like a 30s leading man. Her skin was the color of sandstone at dusk. She wore a white man’s dress shirt, open at the collar, shoulders sharply padded. Suspenders held up gray pleated chinos.
Kid stared.
“Thanks for running it down. Who’s this handsome devil you brought with you?” She held out her hand to Kid. “I’m Carmen, you got a name?”
Kid took her hand, Carmen did the work of shaking. “I’m–wow.”
“I agree, but is that your name?” Carmen smirked. Kid blushed.
“That’s Kid you’re flustering.” Jerk ran his hands through his hair. “My barber and our new deli lead.”
Carmen inspected Kid again. “I’d have picked Killer.” She rubbed her chin, then beckoned. “You got my cigars, Kid?”
Kid jumped, reverie broken. “Oh! Sorry.” They unslung the backpack. Carmen walked over to the bar and motioned for them to follow. The bar was heavy dark wood, and a reproduction of The Birth of Venus adorned the rough brick wall behind the bar, dim bulbs on bare sconces on either side.
Kid laid the backpack on the bar and pulled out the cedar case.
“Two packs of Number 17s and one of Number 5s.” Jerk said as Kid laid the three packs out. “Number 5s should be fresher. Not going through the Canaries now.”
Carmen looked at Kid, amused. “These men have never sold me a stale cigar.” Carmen fished in her pocket and brought out a pocket knife, trying to cut the foil.
Kid was staring at the painting. Venus looked familiar. The eyes, mysterious and kind. The smile, sans tea stains. “Is that Ms. Dunworth?” Kid asked.
Carmen stopped sawing at the foil packet. “That’s Evelyn. Painted her before you were born. She’s my Venus. Always.” She looked out the painting like a window into memory. “That was the first time she posed nude for me.” She chuckled at the memory.
Carmen came back to the present, and finished opening the foil pack, drawing a cigar out. “Care to share one with me?” She waved it, offering it to both of them.
“I can’t, we–” Kid said no as their eyes kept saying yes.
“I’ll walk down to Kelly’s.” Jerk said, interrupting. “It’ll clear my head, busy day.” He looked at kid. “I’ll grab you on my way back.”
Carmen had gone around the bar looking for lighter and other kit. “I’ll take good care of Killer.”
Kid touched his arm, head tilted. “You sure?” There was concern in their eyes. “It’s just a cigar.”
“Positive. Enjoy the cigar.”