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Back The Shoe Queen
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. “And may I say, those shoes are adorable.”
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. ( I )
  7. ( one )
  8. ( two )
  9. ( three )
  10. ( four )
  11. ( five )
  12. ( six )
  13. ( seven )
  14. ( eight )
  15. ( nine )
  16. ( ten )
  17. ( II )
  18. ( eleven )
  19. ( twelve )
  20. ( thirteen )
  21. ( fourteen )
  22. ( fifteen )
  23. ( III )
  24. ( sixteen )
  25. ( seventeen )
  26. ( eighteen )
  27. ( nineteen )
  28. ( IV )
  29. ( twenty )
  30. ( twenty-one )
  31. ( twenty-two )
  32. ( twenty-three )
  33. ( twenty-four )
  34. ( V )
  35. ( twenty-five )
  36. ( twenty-six )
  37. ( twenty-seven )
  38. ( twenty-eight )
  39. ( twenty-nine )
  40. VI
  41. ( thirty )
  42. ( thirty-one )
  43. ( thirty-two )
  44. ( thirty-three )
  45. ( thirty-four )
  46. ( VII )
  47. ( thirty-five )
  48. ( thirty-six )
  49. ( thirty-seven )
  50. ( thirty-eight )
  51. ( thirty-nine )
  52. ( forty )
  53. ( forty-one )
  54. ( forty-two )
  55. ( VIII )
  56. ( forty-three )
  57. ( forty-four )
  58. ( forty-five )
  59. ( forty-six )
  60. ( forty-seven )
  61. ( forty-eight )
  62. ( forty-nine )
  63. ( fifty )
  64. ( fifty-one )
  65. Acknowledgments
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. Questions for Discussion

Lulu got up and set her cigarette holder down on the dressing table. At the sink, she filled a glass with cloudy water and stood with her back to Genevieve, gulping it down. When she spoke again, she still had her back turned and was leaning on the sink. “What do you mean, he betrayed you?”

“He told that witch Olga about baby Josephine. Can you believe it?”

“Has he admitted it?”

“No, of course not. But how else could she have found out?”

There was an acrid smell. Something was burning.

“Shit!” Lulu lunged for her cigarette, scratching ineffectually at the new black scorch mark on her dressing table.

“He’s broken my heart, Lulu.” Genevieve began to cry. “Why did he do that?”

“Oh, chérie.” Lulu reached out for her hand. “This is all very bad.”

The Coyote was a mess of broken glass, spilled drink and spilled blood. Marcel and a few others stayed on to help Laurent and Janine clean up, but Lulu needed to get out of there. She was in a blue mood. Too blue to hang around. She’d argued with Genevieve and then watched Camby and Violetta leave together through the back door. Enough was enough. She had to be alone—to walk a little. To drink a little.

She didn’t know quite how she came to be back at that godforsaken bar again, but here she was. The barman with the tattooed arms was breathing on a glass and rubbing it with a cloth. The two old men on their barstools were smoking and talking in low murmurs. The three whores in the far corner could well have been the same ones as before, though one whore could look much like another. The matted dog snoring away on the floor was definitely the same one.

“A cherry, please.”

The barman looked at Lulu with a face devoid of expression. She sighed. “All right, make it a beer.”

She leaned on the bar while he fixed her drink. She was tired of this way of life—the effort required of her to be Lulu of Montparnasse twenty-four hours a day. Lulu, the life and soul of the party. Lulu, that funny little thing the artists love to paint. Lulu, the cabaret singer with the ashtray voice, the spooky accompanist and the heart stitched on her sleeve. Good for a giggle, for a party, for a night. She’s yours for the price of a drink and a sandwich.