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"Bloodstained Roses"
May. 21st, 2022 02:18 am"Bloodstained Roses"
4/14/1925
I.
"Will you stop using that stupid slang!" Bonnie yelled, making a few passers-by turn their heads.
Parker Ling Scott was hard to embarrass and impossible to deter. "Gosh, cousin, I didn't think you'd turn out to be such a flat tire."
Both were nineteen, born less than a month apart, but Bonnie Ling was an inch taller at five feet six and carried herself like an adult lady in her cotton sundress and wide-brimmed bonnet. In contrast, Parker slouched and shuffled beside her, hands deep in the pockets of his loose trousers and a straw boater pushed dangerously far back on his head. Both looked completely Northern Chinese. Parker's mother had remarried when he was three, her second husband being a white American but Parker had none of his blood.
"Your grandfather taught himself English at night after slaving on the canals long days. And he spoke better English than you do," she continued. Bonnie was carrying a round hatbox and a small overshoulder bag, while her cousin had a suitcase in each hand.
"To that, a hearty Bronx Cheer," Parker laughed. "Our folks worked so we'd have freedom to live our lives and to sling the dictionary around by its ears. My Hope Chest is busted, how's yours fixed for mooching a coffin nail?"
"You know I gave up smoking a year ago," Bonnie said. Despite the style of women having their hair bobbed to chin level, she had kept her long glossy black mane so it flowed down past her shoulders. In the clear April sunlight, it shone as she started walking down Plattner Street again. Her irises were a bright jade-green that everyone complimented her on.
"Vile habit, young man," she grumbled.
"You're sixteen days older than me, not sixteen years, Bonnie." Parker took a deep breath and swung his arms back and forward. "Mmm. Spring at last. I thought that snow would never amscray. My smeller is unplugged for the first time in weeks."
"We're almost there," Bonnie said in quite a different tone. "Next block should be the Agatha Crispell Hotel For Young Ladies."
Parker's voice got noticeably more somber as well. "Cold feet, cuz? Not too late to chicken out if you don't feel up to this."
"I'm as brave as you are, Parker, only not as reckless. We've talked this over."
Pausing on the corner of Plattner and Brook, the Chinese-American youth studied the wooden Indian chief that stood in front of a tobacco shop. "Poor chump, what did you do to deserve landing a job like that. If I had a few more pennies, I'd ankle inside and claw me some Luckies."
"Never mind, you nicotine fiend," Bonnie said, taking his arm. "Better concentrate on what we're going to do when we get to that hotel."
"We? What 'we'? You're going to flap your lips while I imitate a deafmute. Things go smoother that way."
"For once you are right," his cousin said with a smug closed-mouth grin. "Let me do all the talking."
The Agatha Crispell building was a twelve story square of dark brick with narrow ledges running around each story beneath the windows. Over the wide double doors, a stone arch read RESPECTABLE LODGINGS FOR UNMARRIED YOUNG WOMEN. Seeing this, Parker laughed, "So when you walk down that middle aisle, this dive will give you the boot."
"Marriage is low on my list of goals," she said, shifting her shoulder bag to open the door and allow Parker to enter ahead of her. The lobby had passed its glory days of newness, the carpet was slightly worn and the potted plants sagged indifferently, but the air smelled fresh and free of must. Behind the reception desk, a wide middle-aged woman stood, dressed all in black as if for mourning. Behind her a wall of pigeonholes held mail and small packages.
Under his breath, Parker Ling Scott muttered, "Face Stretcher," and received a sharp elbow in the ribs for it. But it was true, the woman's excessive face powder and tightly pulled bun indicated she was trying to appear younger than her years.
Bonnie lowered her hatbag next to the desk and used her most winning smile. "How do you do, ma'am. I'm Bonnie Ling, I registered by mail to move in today."
"Yes, of course. My name is Mrs Crispell, not the Agatha Crispell who founded this establishment but a relative. And this gentleman...?"
"Oh. My cousin, Parker Ling Scott. I asked him to help. More luggage will be arriving at the station and the dear boy is SO strong he doesn't mind giving me a hand."
"Nobody asks the mule if he wants to pull the wagon," Parker grumbled.
Seeming not to hear that, Mrs Crispell said, "As it happens, we have a number of residents of the Oriental persuasion and several of our staff hail from Shanghai, so I assure you that you will not feel out of place, miss. Your draft cleared and your paperwork is complete. All you need do is sign here. Good. Here is your key, shall I have a porter show you to Suite 418?"
"Oh, that won't be necessary, thank you so much," Bonnie replied. "I believe the supper meal is at six?"
"Yes, dear. You may arrive as late as six-thirty and still be served. Tonight we offer lamb chops with asparagus and boiled potatoes, slices of pie are also available." She smiled, showing either new dentures or well-tended teeth. "Meals are extra I'm afraid but your dollar and twenty-five a day does earn you a plate from our afternoon buffet table."
"I'm looking forward to it," said Bonnie, taking the large wooden plaque with its old style key attached. "I'm sure I will be happy here. Ready, cousin?"
"I subsist solely to serve, sahib," Parker answered but he had not been paying attention to their conversation. Gazing around the lobby, he was lost in wondering what had happened to the five young women who had been registered here and who had disappeared in the past year as if they had fallen off the planet.
( the rest of the story )
4/14/1925
I.
"Will you stop using that stupid slang!" Bonnie yelled, making a few passers-by turn their heads.
Parker Ling Scott was hard to embarrass and impossible to deter. "Gosh, cousin, I didn't think you'd turn out to be such a flat tire."
Both were nineteen, born less than a month apart, but Bonnie Ling was an inch taller at five feet six and carried herself like an adult lady in her cotton sundress and wide-brimmed bonnet. In contrast, Parker slouched and shuffled beside her, hands deep in the pockets of his loose trousers and a straw boater pushed dangerously far back on his head. Both looked completely Northern Chinese. Parker's mother had remarried when he was three, her second husband being a white American but Parker had none of his blood.
"Your grandfather taught himself English at night after slaving on the canals long days. And he spoke better English than you do," she continued. Bonnie was carrying a round hatbox and a small overshoulder bag, while her cousin had a suitcase in each hand.
"To that, a hearty Bronx Cheer," Parker laughed. "Our folks worked so we'd have freedom to live our lives and to sling the dictionary around by its ears. My Hope Chest is busted, how's yours fixed for mooching a coffin nail?"
"You know I gave up smoking a year ago," Bonnie said. Despite the style of women having their hair bobbed to chin level, she had kept her long glossy black mane so it flowed down past her shoulders. In the clear April sunlight, it shone as she started walking down Plattner Street again. Her irises were a bright jade-green that everyone complimented her on.
"Vile habit, young man," she grumbled.
"You're sixteen days older than me, not sixteen years, Bonnie." Parker took a deep breath and swung his arms back and forward. "Mmm. Spring at last. I thought that snow would never amscray. My smeller is unplugged for the first time in weeks."
"We're almost there," Bonnie said in quite a different tone. "Next block should be the Agatha Crispell Hotel For Young Ladies."
Parker's voice got noticeably more somber as well. "Cold feet, cuz? Not too late to chicken out if you don't feel up to this."
"I'm as brave as you are, Parker, only not as reckless. We've talked this over."
Pausing on the corner of Plattner and Brook, the Chinese-American youth studied the wooden Indian chief that stood in front of a tobacco shop. "Poor chump, what did you do to deserve landing a job like that. If I had a few more pennies, I'd ankle inside and claw me some Luckies."
"Never mind, you nicotine fiend," Bonnie said, taking his arm. "Better concentrate on what we're going to do when we get to that hotel."
"We? What 'we'? You're going to flap your lips while I imitate a deafmute. Things go smoother that way."
"For once you are right," his cousin said with a smug closed-mouth grin. "Let me do all the talking."
The Agatha Crispell building was a twelve story square of dark brick with narrow ledges running around each story beneath the windows. Over the wide double doors, a stone arch read RESPECTABLE LODGINGS FOR UNMARRIED YOUNG WOMEN. Seeing this, Parker laughed, "So when you walk down that middle aisle, this dive will give you the boot."
"Marriage is low on my list of goals," she said, shifting her shoulder bag to open the door and allow Parker to enter ahead of her. The lobby had passed its glory days of newness, the carpet was slightly worn and the potted plants sagged indifferently, but the air smelled fresh and free of must. Behind the reception desk, a wide middle-aged woman stood, dressed all in black as if for mourning. Behind her a wall of pigeonholes held mail and small packages.
Under his breath, Parker Ling Scott muttered, "Face Stretcher," and received a sharp elbow in the ribs for it. But it was true, the woman's excessive face powder and tightly pulled bun indicated she was trying to appear younger than her years.
Bonnie lowered her hatbag next to the desk and used her most winning smile. "How do you do, ma'am. I'm Bonnie Ling, I registered by mail to move in today."
"Yes, of course. My name is Mrs Crispell, not the Agatha Crispell who founded this establishment but a relative. And this gentleman...?"
"Oh. My cousin, Parker Ling Scott. I asked him to help. More luggage will be arriving at the station and the dear boy is SO strong he doesn't mind giving me a hand."
"Nobody asks the mule if he wants to pull the wagon," Parker grumbled.
Seeming not to hear that, Mrs Crispell said, "As it happens, we have a number of residents of the Oriental persuasion and several of our staff hail from Shanghai, so I assure you that you will not feel out of place, miss. Your draft cleared and your paperwork is complete. All you need do is sign here. Good. Here is your key, shall I have a porter show you to Suite 418?"
"Oh, that won't be necessary, thank you so much," Bonnie replied. "I believe the supper meal is at six?"
"Yes, dear. You may arrive as late as six-thirty and still be served. Tonight we offer lamb chops with asparagus and boiled potatoes, slices of pie are also available." She smiled, showing either new dentures or well-tended teeth. "Meals are extra I'm afraid but your dollar and twenty-five a day does earn you a plate from our afternoon buffet table."
"I'm looking forward to it," said Bonnie, taking the large wooden plaque with its old style key attached. "I'm sure I will be happy here. Ready, cousin?"
"I subsist solely to serve, sahib," Parker answered but he had not been paying attention to their conversation. Gazing around the lobby, he was lost in wondering what had happened to the five young women who had been registered here and who had disappeared in the past year as if they had fallen off the planet.
( the rest of the story )
