Hell's Gate Read Online Free

shanty Irish seemed willing to marry them, and damned few at that.
    â€œFigure of speakin’,” the other replied with a dismissive wave of her cigarette.
    There was a long moment of silence, punctuated by clattering plates in the sink. Ginny couldn’t contain herself and finally burst out laughing, nearly spilling the coffee she was pouring. “It’s true,” she said. “I saw it in The Farmer’s Almanac ,” which set off gales of laughter, and for a moment Ginny forgot her mother’s kitchen.
    â€œWhere’s that cop o’ yours?” one of the girls asked when they had run down to giggles. “Haven’t seen him ’round the last few days.”
    â€œYeah. He was a real regular, too,” Eunice said with a sideways glance at the others. “I’ve heard you with him. You sing a different tune when he’s in your bed.” She looked at Ginny with a narrowed eye. “Those’re the worst, the good ones. Rip your heart out, you let ’em.” The others went silent. Ginny shrugged as she buttered her pancakes.
    â€œHe’s a sporting man,” she said as the butter ran in little rivers off her pancake mountain. “A regular subscriber to the Weekly Rake , that one. He’s like a dog that has to pee on every hydrant.” She nodded toward one of the other girls. “He took you to the masked ball last year, right? And you’ve had him more than once yourself, Eunice,” Ginny pointed out. “We all have.”
    This was true, but for months now it had been only Ginny he’d asked for. He’d either wait for her or leave if she was otherwise engaged. They all knew it.
    Rachel came down then, rubbing her ass, which was by popular consent the finest in the house. Nobody filled a bustle like her, a talent she’d made pay handsomely.
    â€œGood God, I thought he’d never spend.”
    â€œI thought you sounded a bit off,” Ginny said, happy to have a distraction from their uncomfortable topic.
    Eunice got up with a concerned look. “Come have a rest. I’ll get you some coffee,” she said. She held a chair as Rachel eased into it then went about getting her coffee and a cinnamon roll. The girls watched her as they chatted. Eunice and Rachel were the only “real” Sapphos of the house. Though most of them had put on sapphic shows for private parties at one time or another, they were the only ones who seemed to enjoy it.
    â€œHe didn’t hurt you, did he?” Eunice asked when she set the coffee and roll on the table. “I’ll have him dusted up for you if you want.” Eunice’s brother was the bouncer and all-round insurer of the girls’ well-being. He was as adept at splitting lips as he was at escorting the girls on the Ladies’ Mile.
    â€œHell, no! Don’t do that. Sonofabitch is my best customer,” Rachel said, looking alarmed. “Don’t you even say anything to Kevin, either. That gorilla would break his legs just for exercise.”
    Eunice calmed Rachel as Ginny’s mind wandered. Her mother’s kitchen had never been like this, though her brothers would have liked it a sight better than she did. To her it was now just business, not much different than swapping gossip over the counter at Wolke’s General Store back home. The gossip had been very different, it was true. Sex was never mentioned except in whispers, winks, and giggles. Innocence and purity were the words she and her girlfriends had been supposed to live by. Sex was something the beasts did in the barnyard and impure thoughts were rounded up every Sunday and drowned in a flood of “Hail Marys.”
    There were no Hail Marys in this house. The brothel was two houses really, adjoining brownstones on West Forty-fourth. They were run by a porcelain-skinned German woman that the girls all called Miss Gertie, though Ginny didn’t think that was her real name. The