Chapter 13

Rebecca

She knew she had driven past Warren Manor multiple times over the years, but she had never been beyond the ivy-laden gates that separated the urban world from the quiet oasis that was the horseshoe-shaped manor on the edge of downtown. Everything around here is expensive as shit. Becca only knew that even the one-story ranch houses were worth millions because she had done plenty of digging into real estate quotes since working for her girlfriends… and since looking for a new place to call theirs, because good God, there was some expensive property to be had.

Jane had been here before. She and Caitlyn were good acquaintances of the lesbian heiress Eva Warren who still called this place her primary home while also maintaining a small apartment in a high-rise. But they weren't here to see Eva. They were here to see Lady Warren, the current matriarch in residence.

"Does this place remind you of White Fir, love?" Jane asked as they idled in the driveway past the locked fence. However, Jane was not in a hurry to take up one of the guest parking spaces between the entrance and the modest fountain spraying a heavy mist in the middle of the yard. "It has more acreage, but the same feel, isn't it?"

Becca gathered her things, preparing to jump out of the SUV at any moment. "White Fir is way more imposing than Warren Manor. That's all there is to it."

"What! Intimidating?"

"Jane, your childhood home feels like walking into a lion's den full of servants ready to report on everything you do to your mother." Who, by the way, was apparently in town. Becca had been there when Jane told Cecelia her grandmother was stopping by for a short visit, and the moment she had a chance before bed, Becca teased out of her partner that things were more interesting than Cecelia was led to believe. "Where do you think that food came from? Not me!" "There is about as much freedom in there as a prison. At least this place looks like it's lived in by the kind of wealthy people who are too absorbed in their problems to care about yours."

Jane inched the car into a parking spot. "Hm. Suppose you are right, Becca." She turned off the engine. "Shall we go see what kinds of problems these people have?"

Becca was way ahead of her.

There were some striking similarities between the Western sensibilities of the Warrens and the Eastern traditions that still permeated the Wongs' abode back in Hong Kong. Lots of staff. So many people for a family that wasn't bigger than five people at any given time! Becca heard from her friend Nadia, the wife of Eva Warren, that most of the family time was spent in the Main House, the center of the horseshoe where parties and dinners were thrown. That included for the family, who converged there for supper together if they weren't having dinner on their own. But that didn't stop the west and east wings, where Eva and her brother Henry lived respectively, from having their dedicated staff who cleaned and looked after the spoiled heirs and their more middle-class wives. "They all clear out after seven," Nadia had said of life in the west wing after marrying Eva, "but I will never get used to waking up to see a Latvian woman named Estere beating my curtains."

Jane and Becca were received in the Main House, where Monica doubtlessly preferred to hold these meetings with people who were not close friends of her family. Considering I've never seen where Nadia lives in the west wing, I guess we're not that close! Whenever Becca visited her friend from the Thomas-Cole building, it was in the downtown apartment she shared with Eva. Becca had long stopped trying to understand how that worked.

"This part of the house is bigger than anywhere my rich friends lived when I was growing up," Becca muttered as she and Jane sat in a salon overlooking the back garden. "If we move somewhere, it won't be this big, right?"

"Aw, love, are you saying that you prefer being in closer contact with the rest of us?"

"Definitely."

They were offered their choice of cucumber water, juice, or coffee. While Jane was delighted to know the butler could make her a cappuccino with soy milk, Becca asked if she could get something carbonated.

"You can raid my stash of La Croix, Justin," Monica said to the butler on her way in. "We shall focus on making our guests comfortable."

"Yes, Mrs. Warren."

"You hear that," Jane hissed as Monica came up behind them, "you get to raid her stash."

"Lemon or coconut," Monica asked above their heads. "I can have Justin also make you some from our carbonation drink station. What can I say? Both Eva and I became addicted during the pandemic."

"Uh, a can of coconut is fine with me, thank you."

Monica sat in the chair on the other side of the small table, camped out quite comfortably in the corner of the salon she probably inherited from her mother-in-law. Real fucking demon, I hear. Becca had heard every story Nadia felt like sharing about the nightmarish Isabella Warren. "She's so bizarre in what she believes to be true and then makes it your problem!" Becca could only imagine what Isabella thought of her son's wife being a queenpin of sex work in the area.

"First, I'd like to thank both of you for coming out to meet me during your busy workday," Monica said after making herself comfortable. Justin the butler returned with drinks for Mrs. Warren and Becca, assuring Jane that her cappuccino wouldn't be too far behind. Becca opened her laptop and began typing any notes Jane would want later. While this meant she wasn't a huge factor in the conversation, it did mean she was forced to pay attention to all of it. "I'm sure you're waiting with bated breath to hear what my current plan is now that the Monroes are putting their plans on hold."

Jane pursed her lips. "I feel like this is my fault, Monica. I should have been a better mediator between you and Damon. That and the fact that the other half in who says how we spend our money is currently in Iowa…"

"It comes down to what the Monroes think is best for business, Ms. Wong, not you. Damon and I have tastes that differ enough that it would always be difficult for us to work together, no matter how it boosts our income. I appreciate you sticking your head out for this, though. I know how close you and Damon Monroe are."

Becca stopped typing. Jane awkwardly chuckled. "We're old chaps going back to Cambridge, I assure you."

"Of course." Monica quickly moved on. "The more I've thought about your proposal and gone over it with some of my more trusted advisors, the more I like it. One thing I've always thought missing in this city was the experience portion that you pushed so hard. Plus, the lack of business filtering in since the pandemic has put a damper on all of our profits, including the Monroes. They've pivoted from restaurantering under Culver Hospitality to spa and massage."

"So I have heard from them."

"But the real money that keeps everything else afloat, including the hotel industry these days, is the night life. Specifically, the audiences that the Monroes and I cultivate."

"You mean perverts."

Monica's lip twitched into a smile. "Nobody ever said that the perverts didn't pay the bills. The rich ones, anyway. It's the one time misers don't get stingy. Ask me how I know."

Becca was still typing everything as the other two spoke. "You know I love Le Salon, especially ladies' night! But it is also a bloody good place to take some blokes on the weekend. That is what we need more of in this city. By the time I want to take some discerning clients out for a wining-and-dining, the Salon is booked, and The Dark Hour is too naughty for Cait and me to take a chance. Imagine what expanding both could possibly do?"

"I have a few ideas about a possible expansion for Le Salon," Monica said. "Believe it or not, I've spoken to my sister-in-law and her wife about it." When Becca looked up from her typing, Monica explained, "You know how Nadia isn't that into the BDSM aspect of love and sex like the rest of us perverted Warrens. Her insight was invaluable about how I could create a bespoke environment for women like her. You know, should they be coming into town looking for a fun and safe birthday, anniversary, or bachelorette experience. Or a ‘just because' night."

"That is what I have been saying this whole time," Jane said.

"I'm interested in buying the place next to ours. We will not be ‘knocking down any walls,' though. I think a separate location right next door is exactly what I need to move on to the next phase of my plan to be in the city more often. My daughter is in grade school now, and I can't schlep her up to the mountains anymore. It was fine when she was a baby who stayed in my apartment with the nanny, but she can see all sorts of things now. She's already asked me what an escort is."

"Oh, dear." Jane kept her face straight, but Becca knew her girlfriend held back laughter.

"I do not intend to miss my daughter growing up. That said, I cannot relent more control of the Chateau until I have plenty of business to distract me here. That means expanding Le Salon into something beyond a hostess lounge. What I'm thinking…" Monica lowered her voice as if Justin the butler cared about what she said as he brought Jane her cappuccino, "is the very thing the Monroes are working on. Except it will be classier. All my respect to Damon and his business acumen, but he is a man. He sees things a certain way."

"You mean The Dark Hour way."

"I mean New York. There's a reason I don't attend parties there very often anymore, and it's not only getting up higher in age." Monica sat back again. "They skirt the legal line much more than I'm willing to these days. Even in sex work, I have to keep a squeaky-clean image here. There's a reason that when you enter Le Salon you're being watched like a hawk. That includes the women working there. I can't have anyone thinking intercourse is going on there."

"Not the paid kind, anyway."

"Yes, you know what I mean. That said, expanding Le Salon into a next-door but separate location means I can try some new things. Like offering male hosts or, as was suggested to me, classes in BDSM."

Jane cleared her throat. "Classes, huh?"

"You might be surprised, Ms. Wong. Many women around here are interested in the lifestyle but don't know where to begin. We don't all have the opportunity to meet the perfect love of our lives who initiates and trains us into the lifestyle."

As cheekily as she said that, Becca kept typing. She was too desensitized now.

"Classes and some male hosts. Well! Sounds like a brilliant time, Monica." Jane placed her elbows on the table, leaning forward, destroying how she was properly raised in Hong Kong to express her more Western ways if it meant Monica trusted her more. "Tell me, how can Cait and I make this a realization for you?"

"Ms. Wong, I am not used to people approaching me to invest. It's usually the other way around, not that I like dealing with investors to begin with. But…" The more Jane leaned forward, the more Monica leaned back. Becca rubbed her knee against her girlfriend, urging her to back up a bit. Jane immediately moved. "You have a keen eye for what people of all flavors want around here. It's one of the things Damon said positively to me when he and I had dinner the other night."

"Should I be happy to hear that? Also, one of the only things?"

"He also had nice things to say about my daughter. Our kids both go to Winchester Academy, and I guess Clarise and Abigail have library duty together."

"Library duty?"

"All of the grade schoolers are assigned light chores around the school. Many of the lower grades get a leg-up on how libraries work by learning how to shelve. It's wonderful, really. Helps reinforce the alphabet as well as teaching them the Dewey Decimal System. Wish I had something like that growing up."

"Me too," Becca said. Maybe I wouldn't have been behind in my reading in third grade. She considered it a miracle that she could type and read as quickly as she did now.

"How lovely for the children here!"

"Isn't your niece attending the high school at Winchester Academy?" Monica politely asked. "It's a good school. The elementary school, at least. All I know about the high school is that Eva went there."

"Cece has not complained too much. Nothing that most teenagers do not complain about no matter where they are, or that culture shock cannot explain."

Monica nodded. "Now, as for the investment…"

Before she could get another word out, a loud, contentious yell echoed in the hallway through the open door of the salon.

"I didn't do it!" Monica leaped out of her seat, face as pale as the crisp white cloth napkins on the table. Becca looked up from her typing, realizing a few seconds too late that she wasn't supposed to transcribe something a small child shouted at the top of her lungs. "She's lying! She's always lying!"

"Excuse me." Breathless, Monica rushed to the salon door, where not only Justin had appeared to assess the situation, but so did Henry Warren, who had been walking with his daughter after bringing her home from school. "What is going on out here?"

Jane picked up her phone and pretended to not pay attention while Becca's ears rang.

"I didn't touch her!" The girl in a cotton dress and with her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail thumped against her father's chest as he picked her up. A face scrunched with tears and the red, righteous anger of a first grader wronged graced the doorway as the whole family turned around to head toward the east wing. "Why won't you believe me?"

The screams gradually died as the girl was taken away from the scene. Jane released her pent-up breath while Becca hoped that nothing serious had happened.

"Everywhere I go," Jane said, "people are having troubles with their daughters."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes. At that dinner with the Monroes, their daughter had an outburst too."

"School's tough these days."

Monica returned with a frazzled demeanor that made Becca wonder if she should bother typing what was said next. "I am so sorry, Ms. Wong, Ms. Pruitt." She sat with a gentle huff. "Abigail has been dealing with a situation at school. I thought we had moved past it, but…" She shook the thoughts out of her head as if she could simply snap her fingers and get back to doing what she was before. "Never mind that. My husband will handle it. Now, where were we?"

Becca brought her laptop out of the sleep it had lapsed into. Jane did her best to get back on track. For the rest of the meeting, however, Monica was visibly and audibly distracted by what had happened with her daughter. Becca was careful to not reflect this in her notes.

Not our circus… She'd have to teach Jane that idiom later. Right now, she had to concentrate on her typing.