Donnelle Fern Forrester was born in Jackson, the capital of Mississippi; Charlezza Janine La Velle was from tiny Catfish Creek, Louisiana.
Donnelle was always throwing it up to Charlezza, --- that she was born in a big bustling modern city, but Charlezza came from a little hick backwater town, almost in the bayous, even though Charlezza’s grand-tante was the famous or infamous powerful New Orleans hoodoo woman Mama Narcisse.
It was rumored that tall and gorgeous Grand-Tante Narcisse was a wealthy woman, although she lived in a shabby backwood shack. --- and none of her poor relations ever, ever saw a nickel of her mythical hoarded money.
Donnelle Forrester was now standing at kitchen table wearing a gaudy red and orange satin negligee trimmed with black lace and scrapping a wooden spoon over the remains of chocolate frosting from a bowl. Her face was smeared with the goopy dark brown frosting from even thumbing the last of it out of the bowl.
She laughed, her mouth unattractively gaping open, almost showing her tonsils, as she noticed Charlezza with her fingers in her mouth. “Will you just look at her! Look at the big silly ol’ baby! You wantin’ a suck on your mama’s tits again, Charly? You talk in your sleep. You really miss your mama Annie Lee... Ain’t that so, dumb-dumb? That why you suckin’ on your li'l' ol' fingers like that?” Donellle was a big hefty girl with a truly nasty disposition and the fighting instincts of a female weasel, but she also had magnificent breasts that Ferdinand J. La Mothe, whose professional name was “Jelly Roll” Morton, Lulu White’s famous and much sought after piano player, laughingly called “Her Majesty’s Donnie’s Juicy Melon Jugs”.
Madame Lulu came through the kitchen to get the first of her three big cups of morning coffee, made the way she liked it, New Orleans Cajun style with the addition of roasted ground chicory, a tot of bourbon and warmed cream and sugar. She just sighed deeply at the squabbling girls, and shook her big head. Then, she automatically dipped her chin down a little which made her double chin into a triple. It was an odd gesture that was coquettishly charming when she was young, slenderly curvy and cute.
But, now, Lulu was way, way past her prime and, under her voluminous auburn wigs, her wiry hair, showing many gray threads, was often matted and smelly.
Still, she was no creaky old lady; she was a big, formidible woman with a firm step and a muscular backhand. Plenty of her girls and not a few men clients were afraid to anger her. Lulu White said she’d personally whip any man in the house with her pink snakeskin handle cat-o-nine-tails who wouldn’t or couldn’t pay for the female company and the wine, whiskey, beer or other treats served him. Her frequent virulent rages were practically legendary, as was her ten thousand dollars worth of jewelry, real dazzling gems and lustrous South Sea pearls, including a big diamond studded alligator brooch. One of her pairs of diamond earrings cost seven thousand five hundred dollars. She called her collection of many diamonds her “sparkling lights”.
This morning, at outrageously early hour of nine thirty most of Mahogany House’s girls were still sleeping after a busy night of charming, dancing, singing, drinking, and, most of all, --- cavorting saucily and lustily between the house's satin sheets... Most wouldn't wake till after twelve. But, Lulu, always an early, if very grumpy, riser, had been shuffling about for almost three hours, wearing a old black hairnet and the shiny remnants of Lady Marcelline’s Restorative And Pearlizing Facial Cream. Her heavy countenance had a dull grayish look, as it usually did in the morning, before she was cheered by going over the receipts from the night before. The wide mouth without it’s plastering of shiny crimson paint seemed stiff and saggy.
Lulu had donned one of her favorite robes, the viridian green one that came all the way from Kyoto, Japan and had a hand-painted red and yellow bug-eyed dragon on the back of it. Belinda Honey Bee said it looked like a lizard having a “mad fit”. But, naturally, everyone knew that the super-sweet and cute Belinda Honey Bee Smathers was mushy in her childish head, although she could sing beautifully when one of the parlors pianos was played, sounding as sweet as a warbling young canary.
Charlezza stomped her foot, frowning at Donnelle. “I live and work here same as you!,” she screamed. “I’m in the darn Blue Book same as you, that the gentlemen can buy at practically any bar or barbershop here in New Orleans for just twenty five measley cents, and a short time with me costs exactly same as a short time with you!” Charlezza was light enough that she could blush and she was blushing furiously now.
Donnelle simply stuck her tongue out at Charlezza and said, “Fuck you, idiot,” in reply. “You always give yourself airs, Miss Snooty-nose Charly. But, you’re just one of the regular ol’ candy-ass whores what lives here in Storyville, little princess! You ain’t nothin’ very special! We gots the much finer Emma Sears, Estelle Russell, Delphine Noveau, Clara Miller, Sadie Reed, Iona Cross and Sadie Levy. Then, we just gots Georgie Cummins an’ Gladis Wallace an’ Franny June Monteur ‘cause they came over from Star Mansion on Iberville Street. Maybe they gots tired of ol' Miss Ray Owens bossin’ an’ bossin’ them around.
Mahogany Hall, with our four stories an’ copper dome, with five parlors, is a much, much nicer place than Star Mansion, anyways. We even got’s steam heat in winter so’s our floors is even warm to walk on! We gots bathrooms, all with flush toilets and bidettes, much fancier, fer sure. Ev’er one o’ ‘em’s got hot and cold water, Frenchy soaps from Paris an’ big, fluffy Turkish towels too..."
"That's pronounced 'bid-day," you idiot!," Charlezza shot back.
Donnelle stuck her tongue far out. "BID-DAY, then, Missy Fuckin' School Teacher! Like I said, we gots Vickie Hall here, who is the most beautiest, beautiest girl we gots.
She’s just a so, so pretty-face-an’-pretty-ass that Miss Lulu done put her picture on the ad for this here house in the Blue Book, hopin’ men would think we’re all, all thirty o’ us, God damn fuckin’ beauties, and, maybe, jus’ maybe, they’d come here too ‘cause this here place is so funkin’ fancy-shmancy. Miss Lulu even let Vickie have that big, filthy hound Jimmy-dog as a pet!”
“I know! I know! I know! Vickie is gorgeous and you’re right! This house is really grand! I’m glad to be here!”
“You really IS? REALLY?”
“Aren’t you?”
Donnelle looked at her cherished long fingernails, thinking she needed to file the rough edges of them and then get some buffing powder and buff them till they were nice and shiny. “I could do better and you is a stupid fuckin' dumb-dumb fool...”
“I’m not! Yoou take that back!” Charlezza pouted her lips.
“You is! YOU IS! A whore is a whore, is a whore... But, yeah, I guess I is kinda glad to be here... Yeah... But, I woulda way rather been at Josie Arlington’s. I deserve to be at the best, 'cause I is the best! Josie’s place had bester, better an’ bigger parlors even than here. She had a Vienna Parlor, a Turkish Parlor and an American Parlor... It was the bestest house in Storyville afore Josie quit the business and sold out in nineteen-o-five.”
“That was a whole seven long years ago!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah... I think she got all spooked by that big ol’ blazin’ fire at her house. It was only two doors down from here.”
“So what? Stone doesn’t burn and the best houses in Storyville are made of stone.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, everybody knows that, ol' silly-ass... Some randy ol’ fartin’ geezer probably caused the burnin’ an’ guttin’ of Arlington House, maybe left his fat, stinky cigar restin’ on one of the canopy beds while he was screwin’ a dainty dumb little piece like you, Charly.”
“You are... I think you’re just plain horrid and common and so, --- so darned trashy, Donnie!”
“Who cares what you think, you damn goofus fool! I’m here for the lazy, easy money I kin make! I’m savin’ up for when I can leave out the front door o’ this fancy ass jailhouse for whores, go back to Jackson in mighty fine style! Cash makes you damned classy to a hell o’ a lot of folks! An’, I never did pretend to put on airs, to be somethin’ I ain’t, unlike YOU!”
“You do too put on plenty of airs! You think you’re so much better than me because you come from a, --- a big city!”
“Huh-huh! Didja know, Charly, that you got the cute nickname of ‘Little Miss Fancy-Antsy-In-Her-Sweet-Li’l’-Pantsies’?”
“You stupid old tart, I never heard that!”
“O’ course, ain’t nobody says it to your dumb-dumb, stupid ass face!”
“You, you you!...” Charlezza couldn't think of any words that were bad enough to call Donelle.
Donnie stuck her neck out like an arrogant and hungry mule. Her yellowish teeth were prominent, big and long like a mule’s too. “NOBODY WOULD TELL YOU TO YOUR OL’ FUCKIN' BABY FACE ‘CEPTIN ME!... YOU IS NOTHIN', FUCKIN' NOTHIN'!,” she yelled.
But, Charlezza backed down. “”Well, well, well, then... Uh, --- uh, it says in the Blue Book that Lulu White has entertainers that sing and dance for the pleasure of the, --- ummm, --- the customers. I’m one of those dancers! I’m a very good dancer, Donnie!”
“Sure you is, sure you is! You probably think you is as good a dancer as Rita Walker at Bertha Weinthal’s. But, you dances like a stupid sick ol’ cow!”
“I don’t! I don’t! I don't!”
Donnelle ignored Charlezza’s last remark and put her chin up. “Tom Anderson, our damn fuckin' good lookin’ “Lord and Master,” the so-called “Mayor of Storyville,” who thinks he’s so much better than anybody else ‘cause he’s so tall an’ he’s got all that wavy black hair an’ cute little mustache. He prints them Blue Books in a li’l’ ol' room on the second floor of this house. He’s always printin’ them books for the clients. I heard tell he’ done made the Green book an’ the Red Book afore he made the Blue Book, ‘bout the good ol’ girls an’ new girls an’ our prices an’ maybe all extra special stuff we does. I seen him printin’ away fast like sixty, him an’ his girlfriend, Hilma Burt, what owns that house on Basin Street what’s almost as fancy as this here one.”
“Girlfriend? You mean his mistress?”
“Ain’t I jus’ said that,ditty-dummy?” But, I heared plenty that Lisette Smith was his mistress too. Yeah, both Hilma and Lisette owns niceity houses, so maybe there’s some real interestin’ gossip there... But, you read the Blue Book?”
“I did! At least I can read, and read real, real good, Donnie! I can read like that because I paid attention in school, unlike you who’s just plain brash, --- and darn ignorant, at that!”
Donnelle got a fierce look in her vile hazel-gold eyes. They narrowed like a wolf’s eyes and she threw herself on Charlezza, clawing hard and fast like her fingers were buzz saws. Charlezza put up her forearms to protect her face and Donnelle still scored one of them plenty with her long and jagged fingernails. Charlezza screamed. Lulu got between the two girls, pushed Charlezza back and grabbed Donnelle by her mop of black hair, jerking her head around. Donnelle yelped in shock and fear. Lulu threw her away, roughly, and Donnelle landed in a heap on the floor. She looked up at Lulu, the whites of her eyes showing.
“You’re a God damn, fucking trouble maker!,” Lulu told her. Her nostrils seemed to pinch tight. “If you weren’t so fucking popular, doing anything the Johns want, things none of my other girls will do, I’da tossed you out long ago! You're getting old too! What are you, twenty seven, twenty eight? I shoulda had Big Al dump you on one of my competitors doorsteps long ago, --- maybe Willie Piazza’s, or Minnie White’s. You sure wouldn't starve 'cause I never knowed you to refuse anyone, although I don't cater here to inverts and unusuals, but I got no problems with them, if they'll pay. I don't judge a person's proclivities.. Now, get the fucking hell outa my sight!”
Donnelle scrambled away like a cockroach when the lights are turned on. Lulu turned to Charlezza. “You alright, Baby Doll?,” she asked, in a much softer tone.
“Yeah... I just, --- I just hate her so much, Miss Lulu!”
“I know. I know, Honey. She's a nasty mess, mean as a snake. Try to stay away from her.”
“I do try! But, she's always right there, ~ right there in my face!”
“You two were like a pair of squalling cats in a cage this morning. It hurts my ears and upsets my tender belly to have to handle fights, especially in the morning, when I like it peaceful to put a nice start on the day. Go get yourself patched up and then, have youself a pile of pancakes with lots of syrup and some slices of ham. Julie Joey will be putting some breakfast on the sideboard soon.” Charlezza nodded.
So, so very true... Donnellle and Charlezza were the bitterest of enemies. And, it was a well known fact that, in addition to being abrasive and obnoxious, Donnelle was a also a notorious man stealer. She would try to fascinate any guy, even one another girl had as a regular and had contacted for a whole night, and then there would be a big ruckus because that sort of thing was strictly an unwritten “no-no” at Mahogany House. Charlezza grabbed a worn striped cotton towel off a hook on the kitchen wall. She blotted the scratches on her arm and then wrapped the towel around her two fingers. They were still bleeding pretty bad. Donelle might have scratched one of the tiny veins.
The house’s cook Juliette Jo La Fitte came into the kitchen. It was her domain; she was reigning queen there, of course, but she’d also heard the noise. Juliette Jo was swaying a little, hurriedly, and with her usual slightly off balance, but magnificent and ponderous grace. One of Juliette Jo’s legs was a good bit shorter than the other which gave her a very unique walk when she wasn’t wearing her weird built up shoes, the ones Doctor Newell Blake had told her to send away for from a Boston orthopedic supply company and that hurt her feet bad.
Juliette Jo was wearing her yellow chenille robe and dirty fuzzy pink slippers on her big splayed feet, rag curlers in her gray hair. Juliettte Jo eyed Charlezza’s arm and her fingers, wrapped in the bloody towel. She pulled her very round head back a bit because she was getting quite far sighted in her old age. “Lemme see them hurts, Sugar-Pie,” she said. “Hmmm... I gots a good hoodoo ointment for that, be made of rosewater, sulfur, turpentine and goose grease, made for me by Mama Lorraine, fix those little boo-boos up just fine.”
She smiled beatifically at Charlezza, who she liked very much for her sweet and kind disposition, --- the way she would always help make pots of coffee and also aid in making flaky, buttery dinner rolls, if business had been good in the house and a lot of gentlemen were expected to be coming for ten o' clock supper late that night. On the other hand, Juliette Jo didn’t care at all for Donnelle, calling her "Stupid Sow Hips”, even to her face.
Juliette Jo could get away with almost anything because she was one of the best cooks in Storyville. Many folks thought she was one of the best cooks in all of New Orleans, or maybe even in all of Louisiana. Her wonderful back country cooking was much admired and some of the gentlemen who frequented Mahogany House came back, again and again and again, for the companionship of the girls, --- yes, of course, but also for the rich treats that came from Juliette Jo’s creative imagination and her talented hands. Her crispy fried chicken, her pork chops and stewed apples with honey and cinnamon, her file gumbo and crab cakes, her chili pepper red beans and rice, her fluffy cornbread, her seven layer cream and chocolate berry tortes and her praline candies were especially famous.
Lulu waved her stubby fingers at Juliette Jo and Charlezza, --- “Yeah, yeah, yeah, you take care of her real, real good, Julie Joey. Charly is one of my favorite girls. She’s such a little sweetheart,” she croaked in her deep, gravely voice, a voice made permanently harsh from years and years of too much whiskey, absinthe, too much opium pipe and too many cherry flavored cheroots, and even the occasional fingernail full of white cocaine powder. Lulu was the only one who could get away with calling the venerable Juliette Jo, --- "Julie Joey". Now, Lulu made her slow way back to her elegant downstairs bedroom, on the way scooping up her black and white rat terrier, “Demon” Dennis, who was dozing on the Chinese ottoman. Dennis yawned, showing his long pink tongue and perfect pointed teeth. He kept very late hours too. The laughing gentlemen had him doing tricks last night, bouncing along on his hind legs, barking for treats.
“Yeah, Miss Lulu, I sure, sure will help Miss Charly,” Juilette Jo called after Lulu's lumpy form.
“Great, great, just so fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking, fucking great,” Lulu mumbled, scratching Dennis between his large upright ears. "Don't forget my coffee."
--- Copyright by Antoinette Beard, 2024.
