He returned to his post at the back of the room and watched as Bridgette leaned over to whisper something to Thomas. She got up before she came over, bracing her hands against his table. “I’m going to take my sore loser upstairs.”
Garrett kept his eyes on hers instead of the swell of her cleavage that seemed fit to spill from the low cut of her silver dress. Just being around her used to make him gawk, but from conversations he had been able to overhear, her beauty was the least interesting thing about her. “Another regular?”
“He is, but he’s far more fun than Arthur,” she said with a wink. “And once I get him tied to my bed, he’s usually the pretty agreeable type.” Garrett nearly choked on his drink as the image of that flashed behind his eyes, but Bridgette surprised him yet again. “Wish me luck. I might be able to find you a better place to stay than a cellar.”
Garrett set his cup down with a thud, coughing to clear his throat. “Bri, you don’t have to do that.” Truth be told, he was happy to stay in the chilly cellar so long as he got to come in and catch a glimpse of her every morning.
“Hush. You deserve better than what Monika’s giving you,” she said before she swept back to Thomas.
Garrett watched her go, speechless. Ever since he’d left the high plains, he’d told himself that his suffering was a fitting punishment. Yet hearing Bridgette say that he deserved better filled him with an emotion he couldn’t place.
He sank back into his chair with a sigh. Yet when he reached for his cup of water, his fingers brushed the seven coppers Bridgette had left behind.
Garrett didn’t know what she had said or done, but when Bridgette and Thomas descended the stairs an hour later, the man came over to Garrett’s table. He was tall and clean cut, though his neat shirt and trousers had been thoroughly mussed. He cleared his throat, dragging his fingers through his short black hair.
“I have a spare bed in my shop,” he said. “I run my tailoring business out of it during the day, so you’d need to be out by mid-morning, but I don’t work past sundown. You’d have a private spot to stay at night. I could let you use it for ten coppers a month.”
Garrett’s rising hope plummeted at the price. He scoffed. “I’m security at a brothel, not a prince.” Thomas looked taken aback, as if he had expected Garrett to speak in grunts and snorts instead of perfect common. “I can do five a month.”
Thomas frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “I can’t give it away for less than eight.”
Garrett reached into his pocket and pulled out the seven coppers Bridgette had left on his table. It filled him with no small amount of satisfaction to be paying this man with the coin Bridgette had won by betting against him.
“I have seven.”
Thomas considered him for a long moment before he scooped the coins up. He reached into his pocket before tossing a metal key onto Garrett’s lap. “It’s just on the edge of midtown, right off the main road. White building with blue shutters and a needle and thread on the sign. I’ll leave the lantern over the shop door lit tonight.”
Garrett scooped the key up. The price was high, but even he had to admit that it would be better than sleeping in the cellar. If he left in the morning, he’d still be at the brothel in time to help set up.
He glanced at the marriage band on the man’s finger before asking, “And if I run into your wife, how should I tell her we met?”
“I’ll tell her you’re a charity case,” Thomas sneered. “If anything goes missing from my shop, I know where to send the constable.”
Thanks to Monika, it was an old threat by now, and Garrett waved it away like one. “Sure, sure. Thanks for your charity, Thomas. I’ll stay out of your way.”
“See that you do,” Thomas said and walked off. He only stopped to murmur something to Bridgette before he headed for the door.
Bridgette watched him go before her eyes found Garrett’s across the room. She wore a pleased grin as she plucked a cup of wine from the hand of her newest caller and lifted it. With a smile, Garrett raised his water cup to match.
6
With stable lodgings, Garrett’s days fell into a new kind of routine. The girls followed the same schedule as the mine, six weeks on, and one week off, though their week off happened the week after the miners went back to work. It seemed like a hell of a stretch without a break, but he didn’t have the option to complain.
Instead, he would wake up in Thomas’ shop, head to the brothel, and help with the pre-opening routine before starting his shift when the mine’s quitting bell rang. After, he’d return to Thomas’ shop to sleep, wake, and start the routine all over again.
Thomas didn’t hassle him, but Garrett could tell the tailor didn’t trust him. After the first night spent in the shop, Garrett found that anything more valuable than fabric scraps had been safely locked away in one of the large trunks lining the wall. It helped tidy the place up, but then Garrett noticed that the covers on the bed he’d been loaned were mussed, as if someone had rifled through them to search for anything left behind. Fortunately, he’d had the sense to keep his pack with him.
Frankly, he was anxious to let it out of his sight, even at Monika’s. It carried every last possession and coin he had. Though he trusted the Madam to leave it alone when he stowed it behind the bar during his shift, he still worried some sly hand would sneak back and snatch it. Especially on payday, when things got so busy that he felt like he needed two of him to keep a handle on everything.
Fortunately, his fears were unfounded. After breaking up three fights and tossing out one man who had come just to start something with him, Garrett found his pack unmolested at the end of the night.
“You can store it in my room in the back if that’d make you feel better,” Monika said as they started to clean up. Payday brought more messes, too, and Garrett grimaced as he looked at the spilled wine and beer he was expected to mop up.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said as he stowed his copper for the night and tucked his pack away. He took the mop she offered him. “I think I’m just being… overcautious.”
“With coin, you can never be too careful,” she said before her voice cracked. She started to cough, bracing herself against the bar even as she drew a handkerchief out of the pocket of her dress to cover her mouth.
Bridgette hurried over, setting her handful of dirty cups on the counter. “You’re going to hack up a lung one of these days if you keep dragging on that pipe.” She grabbed a spare cup and dunked it into the water barrel before offering it to the woman. “Want me to grab one of my tinctures?”
