Maxie Reed: Flapper Grace

Maxie Reed

 Flapper Grace Part 1

She was a skinny little hussy with a pale complexion, not too tall but tall enough to scare the boys. Her hair was short and greased back, leaving small ringlets in the front that fell over her rhinestone headband with the large red feather. Her lips were thin, but so was her face. Thankfully, a little lipstick would give her the perfect kewpie doll lips and some red rouge would fill in her cheeks. Her momma always said her best feature was her eyes, dark brown almond shaped and wide. She did not like them at all, reminding her of what her grandpa would refer to as doe eyes. She looked in the mirror again just to make sure her cheeks were even with color.  Her legs were bare and her scuffed red pumps were a small for her long feet, but she had to wear what she could find. The dress had been her sisters’ favorite and now it was all hers to flounce around in. It was a sleeveless A-line with fringes all the way around from the V-neck to the hem. The purple material was not her favorite but she did like how it flowed when she walked, swinging her hips in time to the music playing in her mind. Her clothing was always either too big or too small depending on which family member it had belonged. This particular piece was big in the bust (as Maxie was not that well endowed), and a little bit longer than what she would have wanted it to be. It had to suffice for right now she thought, but as soon as the ‘right man’ came along, she would have all the clothes she wanted, all the food she could eat and nothing would be able to stop her from having a great time.  .

As she walked along the crowded street, the fringes of the worn dress would dance on her body as she shimmied by the store windows with the newest fashion from Paris and London. She wondered where all those people were going to so late. There was not a lot to do here in this hellhole and it stretched the limits of her imagination seeing women in furs and men in tuxedos laughing as they passed her by unnoticed. She parked herself next to a set of steps leading up to the large brownstone building. Surely, someone would see her and invite her in this time, she thought.  She leaned up next to the stone structure as she had seen the women over on the other side of town do.

 Maxie was the kind of girl that watched everything. Her mind was like a sponge when it came to little details, like the woman who wore the white button up shirt with her simple gray jacket.  It would have passed by everyone else, but the buttons were on the right side instead of the left, which meant it was a man’s shirt. It confused the worldly girl. Why would a woman want to wear a man’s outfit? Each time she saw her, she had on a suit, sometimes a fedora, and every once in a while, she would walk with a woman as if she was the man. Maxie saw her one evening with a bleached blond tart, walking slowly down the street. The woman had on a black tailored suit, the kind they wore in courtrooms. She had on a black hat and carried a cane with a silver wolfs head. The woman with her was very pretty, having on a long burgundy gown that fit to her curvy form. Her hair was as short as Maxies but with no ringlets in the front, just wisps of blonde. She had on a white fur coat and Maxie wondered how many rabbits had been unmercifully slaughtered for that one piece.  Blondie was taller than Gray Suit, which made for an odd pairing, as Maxie thought to herself that women should be shorter than men when walking.

They stopped a few feet from where Maxie sat on the stoop, and she heard the woman in the suit tell the woman in the dress how glad she was that they were together. A few days later, the woman in the suit walked past her but stopped, turned around and smiled at Maxie.  Maxie smiled back at her as the woman approached where she was.

“Well hello there.” The woman said in a husky voice.

Maxie beamed her pearly whites even more with a, “Hello yaself handsome!” she caught herself but not in time. That would be something she would say to a man, not a woman. She did not seem upset by the miscue at all and laughed at the expression on the young girls face.

The woman in gray extended her manicured hand for Maxie to shake. Maxie took it, shaking it lightly as the woman had a nice grip. She noticed her fingernails, and how clear and straight they were. She had such pretty nails that reminded her of her mommas. There was no dirt under them as her own had, no torn cuticles. This woman took care of herself that was evident.  Momma said anyone who took time out to make sure his or her hands were nice looking made sure anything else would be nice looking too. Momma was never wrong. Maxie pulled her own ragged hand away and put them behind her back.

“How would you like to have dinner with me Sunshine?” the woman bent down to look her in the eyes and grinned. Maxie was elated! No one had ever bothered to want to feed her before, and she jumped at the chance to have something hot for a change. She always found something to eat in the dumpster behind the building as it connected onto a few restaurants in the back before going home in the early hours of the morning. That was also the best time to find food, right after the diners had closed for the night. They would throw all their scraps in the big green bin, and if you made it in time, you could beat the rats and dogs to it.

“That would be great as long as you’re payin’” Maxie said with a giggle.

The woman tweaked Maxies nose, took her hand and led her across the street.  Walking a few blocks down, and trying to make small talk with Maxie, she asked about her parents.  Maxie always replied when asked the same thing, “Oh, they’re around, we live in the other part of town. I’m just on this side for a while waiting on Uncle James.”  Gray Suit smiled wistfully thinking of another “Uncle James” in another girl’s life.

The continued, walking in silence until Maxie could not resist asking her.

“So, you got a name?” She inquired, for a change not feeling the trepidation of leaving with another stranger that she would later have nightmares.

Gray Suit licked her lips and smiled down at her. “Georgia, but my close friends call me George.” She said. A few more crooks and turns down one street and onto the next found them at a small blue painted house behind the taller brownstones that sat in the front.

It was not as big as Maxies’ house, but by the looks, it was well kept and cozy. Blue was also a favorite color of hers, and the white trim on the porch posts just made it pop. If Maxie had any worries at all, they evaporated just by the fact that this house was blue. She smiled; this is going to be a nice night she thought.   

George fished in her front pocket for a set of keys and upon opening the door, she stepped aside, “Ladies first”. She said to the small thin girl. Maxie did not know what to think. No one had ever… she looked at this strange woman for a split second before grabbing her and hugging her tight, as the tears began to fall from her eyes. In the eight months or so that she had been out on the street, no one had ever treated her nice before.

  Appear seductive she coached herself. Droop your eyelids and smile at the well-dressed men she heard her momma say in her head. She licked her red lips at a man who passed by not giving her a second look. She furrowed her brow and waited for the next one to come along.  It was getting dark quicker, as the days got shorter. Winter would soon set on and she wanted to keep that thought far from her troubled mind. She wanted to think of now and the present, not what lay in store if things did not change for her soon. Her stomach growled, jerking her out of her thoughts as she spotted another man a few yards down the street window gazing.

Maxie reached for her black clutch and extracted her cigarette holder and a cigarette. She put it in the holder and stuck it between her teeth like she saw the women in the talkies do.  She hiked up her dress over her knee to let her bare legs show, crossing them, and sticking them out just a little further into the street. He would stop for her or she would trip him, she thought as his steps progressed toward her.

As he approached, she observed everything about him, as if taking a photograph of him in stop motion time. He had a black fedora cocked to the side resting on silver/white hair. He was an older man; life had worn him around the eyes. His hands were gloved in black leather; his coat was double breasted and had beautiful silver buttons going down both sides. He carried an umbrella (Maxie had forgotten they were giving rain) in one hand along with a black briefcase. He is a banker; she surmised smiling to herself as she stepped out in front of the startled man. 

“Hiya handsome! Gotta light?” she said in her best sexy voice. She put her holder back in her mouth and waited for him to retrieve a match.

Brandon Marks had been in his own world, going over statuses and timetables. Things were about to happen and he did NOT want to be a part of it, or caught up in the aftermath.  He had been trying to figure out all day how to transfer the funds from one stock to another portfolio without raising eyebrows at the firm. He did not know why this made him nervous; it was something that happened every day. Nevertheless, he had news, inside information that could devastate the whole firm.  He only had twenty-four hours to process the information and deal with the onslaught of knowing and not telling. This was all him and all on him.

He hadn’t noticed the skinny waif until she jumped out at him scaring him out of his thoughts.

“What the hell?” he exclaimed, almost backhanding the poor child.

Startled at his reaction, Maxie jumped back stumbling over the crack in the street and falling flat on her ass.  She stared up dumbstruck at the giant that loomed before her.

Brandon threw down his case and umbrella, bent down and grabbed her arm, roughly lifting her up to her feet. “What do you think you’re doing out here this time of night? Shouldn’t you be at home in bed?” he scolded her.

Maxie, on the verge of tears stammered, “Geeze Louise Mister, all I asked for was a light! I didn’t ask for a lecture!” she dusted her backside off, trying to straighten her fringes out in front, and smooshing her breasts back in place afraid that the papers she’d put in there before she left would show.

He stared at her sternly wanting to say more, but not exactly knowing how without hurting her feelings or anything else.  He dug out his gold pocket watch, the one his father had given him the day he started work at the firm and saw that it was well past six pm.  Brandon sighed, and ditched all the previous thoughts of work he had.

“What say you throw that cigarette down and we go get a cup of cocoa?” he tried smiling fatherly at her but came off as more of a letch.

Maxie drew back. She knew these types. They looked clean and rich but they wanted to always do the dirty in the back alley next to the Chinese dumpster. It made her sick every time she was taken back there, not because of the stench of the garbage, but because of the invisible stench of the man..

She bent down, not taking her eyes of Mr. Wallstreet to retrieve her now broken cigarette. She did not know where she would get another one at, as she had stolen this one from the old hag sleeping on the bus bench.

He wondered just how old this girl was. She could not have been more than fourteen at the most, reminding him somewhat of his granddaughter Stephanie, whom he had not seen since being uprooted and moved to Paris because of the scandal Stephanie’s mother had caused with the Judge in her divorce case.

He reached out his hand once again and this time she reluctantly took it. He smiled at her, this time a little more relaxed than leering. He fetched the briefcase and umbrella from the street and they walked quietly for a while down to the malt shop.

Chapter 2 Maxie Reed meets the Tycoon

Maxie always taught to be obedient took his hand and braced herself for what was to come next. She was guessing that cocoa meant the dirty; as men like him she guessed would never use certain words in the presence of a lady.  She glanced up at him and for a fleeting moment wished, he could have been her father. He was not ugly, as a matter of fact, if she liked older men instead of judging all of them by Valentino, she could have fallen for this guy.  He was what would be the word her momma would use? Distinguished? No the word was class. Momma would have said this man had class.  She noticed how straight his posture was. Most men she saw seemed to have the weight of the world laid upon them, their shoulders bent their backs broken by the worries of life. This man had none of that. His face she observed was free of the worry lines in between his eyebrows. Well, that is what her momma called them anyway. His fingers were long, his hands wide. His grip was firm and strong, but he did not hurt her as the others had.  This made her suspicious of him. Why would he be this nice to her to start off with, unless he was a killer or worse yet…. A priest!

Get hold of yourself Maxine, she said in her mind. A priest would not look like a million dollars and a priest would not go after a child anyway. They have far too much fun with the nuns.