Patsy V

Patsy: The Decline of Paul Moore

Chapter Five

Omerta. That’s what they make you do. I didn’t join the Mafia, far from it… but they rescued me from prison, they needed co-operation. Omerta is a code of silence. I can’t co-operate with, talk to or even be seen with the police. This wasn’t a big issue for me; I wouldn’t get within fifty feet of an officer now. More than anything in the world, I wanted to go back to my office. I wanted to go home, but not yet. Not until I clear my name.
It was at this point I realized that I had a choice to make. Set out to clear my name or get revenge on Rosa
Cline.
I considered both. If I cleared my name, I could get Rosa Cline landed in jail, which would be nice but I don’t want her in jail. I want her dead. Wait. If I went further than to clear my name… if I could prove that it was Rosa who killed Stephen, I wouldn’t have to kill her… the justice system would do it for me. It was a win-win situation. But I couldn’t think of that right now. I had to find a safe house. I only knew one person who was still on my side. Marilyn. The burlesque dancer… she had her heart broken by a con-man.
Giovanni Stone found Marilyn, Giovanni made her love him. Him and his mysteriousness. Giovanni Stone was a romance novel. Giovanni is the man that romantics want to be like, well, on the outside anyway. Giovanni captured poor Marilyn and told her “Honey, you’re going to be in pictures!” And she was too. The story had a catch, like they all do.
She needed to do some off-shoot work first. She needed burlesque. He found her this place, the one with no name. Just the burlesque house off of Cocoa St. Then one day, he was watching her do her stuff and she was fantastic. I was there. She was a real crowd pleaser but she never did any nude stuff. That’s where you fall off the train. Stone tampered with her clothing and just watched as she was exposed.
Exposed in front of men who were horny enough as is. Then he took pictures. When I saw the flashes of that light bulb, and cameras were a lot bigger, even five years ago, but when I saw those flashes, my gut sank. I knew what was happening.
Marilyn was done. Marilyn was finished. Stone saw all the big producers, showed them the pictures. She was black-listed. He made sure that she was the woman all producers were warned to NOT hire. She’s a floozy and now she’s trapped.
Poor Marilyn, I was the only man she still trusts. Giovanni never comes to the burlesque house anymore; he gets the money through a third party. Some scrawny prick with a squirrelly name. I can’t even think of it. If I was to guess, I’d say Oliver or something like that. The accountant type, the one you love or hate, depending on whose side he’s on. He wasn’t on Marilyn’s side. Now she’s another piece of the building, working there forever. She wasn’t his latest, either. It happened again. The one time he’d come back to the burlesque house, it was to watch another woman’s career flash before her eyes. Look at this Mr. Producerman! I had high hopes for this one too! I know, she was a great actress, I really wanted to see her soar… but she’s let me down. Floozy.
Marilyn Cunningham. Poor girl, it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen her and I hope she isn’t as broken as I’d expect her to be.
Walking up to a house like this isn’t as comfortable as you’d think. Sadly enough, all the comedy died out of these shows long ago. This wasn’t just entertainment for adults. This was adult entertainment. Trust me, there’s a difference. A big one. Back in the day, these were variety shows but now it was a strip bar. They call it burlesque so the girls don’t feel so much like whores. I walked inside. On the stage, a naked petite woman with long black curly hair. If looks could kill. It wasn’t Cline but he wished he could see her sink this low. Rosemary, the head of the house was wearing her tassles and sitting at the back of the house. She’d aged. She knew who I was the second I came in.
“Paul Moore.”
I prefer “Paul.”
“What are you doin’ in a place like this? It’s been a while stranger.” Rosemary was her stage name. Her real name, I couldn’t remember. She had long curly blond hair that reached her bum which was almost bare. As I said before, she’s aged a bit.
“I’m here to see Darling.” Darling was Marilyn’s stage name. Poor Darling.
“Oh… Darling. She’s in the back.”
Great, thanks. “But before you go see her…” I turned back to her. Rosemary’s eyes were a dulled green. “You should know something.” This was bad news. Wonderful, I need bad news right now, I’m so ecstatic. “About six months ago… Darling was walking down a rough alley to get to… Lordy, I can’t even remember where but it was a stupid mistake.” Oh God, no. “She was… attacked. Attacked by a man. He raped her. We don’t know if the man had any disease or nothin’ but we know this.”
She is…
“She’s carrying his baby.”
Oh God. She isn’t going to be back on stage anytime soon, is she?
“No. After carrying the dead one that Stone put inside her…” It was a miscarriage, just so the reader knows. “… we aren’t expecting that she’ll get her figure back.” Poor Marilyn. She’s had her whole life ruined by other men. I doubt she’d even trust me. No… Marilyn is a friend. She always will be.
I went in back. The place most men only dream of being in. I kept hearing “Hi, Paul.” Everywhere. I couldn’t remember all the names but one thing stuck out about me. I was a friend to Darling when she needed one. That put me on the girls good sides. I stopped a girl passing by, I think her name was Blueberry or something cute like that. I asked where Darling was. She gave a sad face and pointed out the room. Down the hall, to the left.
Needless to say, I was hesitant to open the door.
But there she was. She was looking at herself in the mirror. Just staring. She had too much make-up on. She didn’t see me there yet.
“Hey there, Darling.” I got her to look away from the mirror finally. This cute little brunette Irish rose. Brown hair down to her neck and a slender frame… well, a formerly slender frame. Pregnancy had taken her toll on poor Marilyn’s body.
“Paul!” She smiled. This was a happy excitement. This is probably the first smile she’s had in a long time. World-weary comes to mind. She tried to get up but I told her to not strain herself.
“Paul, it’s been forever!” She remembered that I prefer Paul. Sweet girl. “What brings you here? Tell me everything, how have you been, what happened to that Misty girl?” Oh yeah. Misty. An ex-girly. She left me for a foreign man. That happened a while ago, it doesn’t even matter now. “So how have you been Paul, tell me how’s life.”
I gave her the look that told her I had no good news to spare.
Her heart sank. I only needed to see her face drop to know that. I was not a beacon of light. I wasn’t about to remind her that everything might be okay.
So I told her everything. The honest and ugly truth. Right down to the very moment that I stepped in. Don’t worry Marilyn; I don’t need you to tell me your story. I know you’ve been through some hard times. I think that gave her comfort. I was the only man who still called her Marilyn.
Then I asked her “Marylin”. I called her Marilyn. I asked her if I could stay here for a little while.
“Here in the burlesque house?!” She asked.
Yes.
She asked another dancer if that was okay. She asked… I think it was Dollface. She said you’d have to ask Blueberry. She asked Blueberry. She said you’d have to ask Rosetta. She asked Rosetta.
This went on for much longer than you’d think.
Finally, we heard that you’d have to ask Rosemary. It was then I knew I was safe. We talked to her… she said to me “Paul”.
She called me Paul. She said “Paul… you’re a tough man. I know you’re wanted, that’s the kind of look your face gives off and it’s the only reason you’d stay here instead of your dumpy apartment. Am I right?” Of course she was right. “Then I’m sure you’d be willing to do us girls a favor.”
Sh*t. Another favor. Wonderful. What is it, Rosemary?
“I want you to scare off Giovanni and his little dog too.” His squirrelly assistant. What was his name again Rosemary? “Oliver”. I knew it.
“He brings girls in here and ruins them and he takes fifty percent of the profit… we want him out, we can take care of our own. I don’t care if you kill him or just send him on his way with his tail between his legs; just get him out of our sight.”
I said I’d do it.
Like I have much of a choice these days anyway. Thank you Rosemary.
“…”
Hmm?
“Thank you Paul. You’re a good man.” She meant man. She didn’t say a good person.
Paul is a good man.