Bottoms. Sitting in the workhouse barber shop, his hair on the floor of that place, hair that he himself had to clean up, that was a bottom of sorts. Course if he really looked at it for what it all was, the bottom was when the judge banged down the gavel and pronounced him guilty, said “Policemen don’t lie,” and had him taken away.
That was the bottom because however you sliced it, from there it was all uphill. Everything. He had to serve his time, but then it was done.
During his stint in the workhouse he would do something really special, something he never, ever spoke about. Maybe he would speak about it someday.
Right after his stint in the workhouse, visiting his probation officer, Bailey, he would meet up with Robert, and being a nice guy, one with empathy, he would offer Robert a cigarette. Robert didn’t smoke but he would be the one to get Bill the job that led to where he was now. Bailey and Robert were connected through the numbers game. Robert was the numbers runner, Bailey the customer.
Millie had a record book and when Bill first saw her she was writing in her book. Sometimes she was sorting laundry, sometimes hanging clean uniforms on racks, this always out by her counter.
When Bill saw her see him he saw her smile at him. Instinctively he smiled back and then he saw her go back to her book.
“How many you turning in?” she asked before she looked up at him.
“Three,” Bill said, “and I don’t have any more.”
“No problem,” Millie said. “I have all fresh ones for you. I knew you’d go through uniforms yesterday.”
“Couple of these shirts are crusty. We were really busy.”
“I know. I got the whole report. You’re a super star.”
“Yeah, a regular rock star.”
“Wanna drink?” Millie set down the pen and looked directly at Bill for the first time.
He saw she was wearing purple lipstick and purple eye shadow. He thought she was gorgeous but he wasn’t about to say so.
“Chloe left me a bottle of bourbon and said I should share it with you. She also said her dinner was great yesterday.”
“She told you to share it with me?”
“She did, for real. She said it was okay, that the chef wouldn’t be back till tomorrow. She said she would square it with the chef and management if anything ever came up.”
“She said that, huh?”
“Come on,” Millie said. She gave Bill a wink and a big smile, motioned with her hand for Bill to come around the counter and join her. Bill could see that her fingernails were purple too.
When he got around to her side of the counter, first thing he did was look down to see her feet. Toenails were purple too. She was wearing the open-toe slippers, flats, and nothing on her legs. With him by her, she slid down the door over the counter then closed and locked the entry door.
“I did the purple just for you,” Millie said as she led them into her room off to the side. “I was hoping it would be an easy day and you’d have some time to hang out. Chloe said you might. She told me to make you my Christmas present from her.”
“Well that’s awfully forward of her,” Bill said.
“Wonderfully so, right?”
“What kind of present were you looking for?”
“Well…” Millie didn’t answer straight off. She took a moment first to flip the lock on the door. “I wore purple underneath too.” She smiled at Bill then sat herself in the arm chair where she carefully crossed her legs and tucked her housedress in under her so she wasn’t showing anything.
“Well is a deep subject,” Bill said.
