Chapter Text
Tables at the club were in high demand, however one was always available for Karl. The owner liked Karl and found Rosie adorable. The bartender had slept with Karl and envied Rosie. It was obvious that as much as Karl enjoyed sex with men the way he looked at Rosie was the way the bartender wished any man looked at him. Karl was devoted to her, and a skeptical eye from Rosie doomed any chance a man had with Karl. The bartender was sure to stay on Rosie’s good side.
Rosie sat down at their table, and Karl went to the bar to order drinks as well as buy cocaine from the club’s designated dealer. Rosie lit a cigarette and looked out into the dim frenzy of dancing and vibrating swing jazz. She was wearing a new tabard with electric green and gold beading over nude organza. As usual, the sheath underneath was nude as well. Rosie used every night in a club as an opportunity to find new clients. It bothered her how many gay men seemed to want chastisement, but she only took on those who really needed it for some other reason. She didn’t blame Karl for being gay. It was simply part of who he was. She might as well have blamed him for his vivid imagination or poetic talent with words.
“May I join you?” a man asked Rosie.
Rosie looked up to a tall man with a chiseled face, luxurious blonde hair, and an American accent. Americans were everywhere in Berlin these days. “I’m waiting for my boyfriend.”
The man smiled a broad white smile. All the Americans had nice teeth. “What a coincidence? I’m looking for one.”
Rosie barely nodded her head, and the man sat down next to her. There was still plenty of room for Karl, and if there hadn’t been, she would have just sat in his lap like she often did.
“Jack von Hess,” he held out his hand.
Rosie was still surprised by the touchy, informality of Americans. They liked to shake hands but not kiss. “Grafine von Bischoffen.” Rosie accepted his hand and waited to see what he would do. Jack smiled slyly at her before kissing the back of her hand. “Von Hess. That’s a German name.”
Jack laughed. “My first American ancestor was a Hessian mercenary. He was actually the youngest son of a family named Kempten. But, he liked America and stayed after the Revolution. He introduced himself to everyone as Wilhelm Kempten, von Hesse. Everyone thought it was his last name, and he became known as Willie von Hess.” He took out his cigarette case and lit one.
“And what brings you to Berlin, Herr von Hess?” She thoroughly expected him to say sex. When Americans and British visited, they wanted the full hedonistic experience.
“Just call me Jack. I’m in publishing.”
“Really?” Now Rosie’s interest was peaked.
“And why are you and your boyfriend at a homosexual cabaret?”
Rosie laughed. A third of the patrons were women, or at least dressed that way. Among her friends, gay or straight, no one cared if a cabaret or bar was more popular with either crowd. “Because my boyfriend is gay,” she said with a laughing smile.
Jack leaned back and chuckled. “Only in Berlin.”
Karl arrived with a bottle of champagne and two glasses. “I seem to be short a glass,” he said as he sat down next to Rosie. “Karl von Corten.”
Rosie leaned back on Karl’s shoulder. “Jack von Hess, von America,” she said with a teasing voice and kissed Karl’s throat all while looking at Jack.
Karl smiled at Jack. Jack was everything he liked in a man: handsome, slightly older looking than him, and blonde. “Berlin’s a long way to go to listen to an American jazz band.” Karl took out a silver compact with an Art Nouveau woman’s flowing form on lid. He openly tapped a small hill of cocaine on his hand and bent down to snort it. Shivering vigorously with pleasure, he tapped out another hill and held his hand to Rosie’s nose. She steadied his hand with her own and proceeded to just as appreciatively snort in the powder. The tip of her tongue delicately twirled on Karl’s skin for the very last grain, her eyes locked on Jack’s.
Jack cleared his throat as he smiled. “I bet you two are a lot of fun.”
Karl held up his compact. “Can I offer you any?”
Jack laughed a bit. “I wouldn’t want to start anything I can’t finish.”
Karl winked. “Wise course of action.” He poured champagne in the two glasses and called to a waiter to bring a third glass. Rosie picked up the glasses and gave them to the men. She took a drink from the bottle. Karl couldn’t decide if Rosie was aggressively flirting with Jack for herself or setting up the American for him. Whichever, Karl assumed they weren’t going home alone. “My darling Schatzie, your mother would be scandalized to see you drinking out of a bottle.”
“My mother was scandalized about everything, except herself.” Rosie leaned toward Jack. “She was a regular Anita Berber, without the drugs, back in her day. The family married her off to the commander of the Eastern Squadron to get her out of Berlin.”
“Where did she end up?” Jack asked intrigued.
“China.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Really? That’s…that’s really needing to get someone out of town,” he laughed. His eyes flicked up to Karl’s, expecting to see Karl admiring Rosie, but Karl’s eyes were easing themselves over Jack. “And what scandals do you have in your family, Karl von Corten?”
“Just me,” he said with and an ironic smile.
Rosie turned to Karl and nuzzled his cheek with her nose. “You’re delightfully scandalous.”
Rosie woke up on a couch. She looked around her before moving. She was in a suite at the Adlon. Her clothes were strewn over the coffee table and a blanket covered her legs. Sitting up, she looked down to see that all she was wearing was a man’s dress shirt, and it wasn’t even buttoned. Glancing at the left chest, she saw “KLC” monogrammed on it. Well, at least she was wearing Karl’s shirt. She got off the couch and went to the bathroom. When she returned, she cracked open the door into the bedroom. She saw two naked men asleep with one another, Karl was on his stomach, and Jack had his arm and head resting on Karl’s back. Rosie noticed that Jack had a beautifully muscled body. Closing the door, she went to the windows and opened the curtains. She sat back down on the couch, and with nothing else to do, reached in her purse for her cigarettes. She took out not only her cigarette case but a Luger 08, and it wasn’t hers.
Rosie set the pistol down while she lit a cigarette and propped her feet on the coffee table. Where did she get a pistol? She had a vague recollection of an argument. She carefully picked up the Luger and made sure the safety was engaged. It was. She dropped the magazine and checked for a chambered round. There wasn’t one, but the chamber was filthy.
“You should be careful with that,” Jack said as he walked out of the bedroom. Starting his day warning a woman in German to be careful with a pistol was somewhat dissonance inducing. He’d been a twenty-two-year-old lieutenant and a year in the Army when they were shipped to France.
Rosie held up the magazine. “I’m well acquainted with the Luger 08.”
“You check for a round in the chamber?” Jack stayed behind Rosie, walking around the back of the sofa.
“Yes. Nothing but dirt.” Rosie watched him come around her and sit down in a side chair. She flipped and hung the pistol in her hand so he could safely take it from her.
Jack smiled as he took away the gun and checked it himself. He felt better as soon as it was firmly in his grasp.
“You should take it home. It’s illegal here.” She lay back on the couch, her knees bent up. “How did I get it?”
Jack tapped his fingers. “Well, we left, I think, the third club of the night, and as we were walking on some narrow side street, we were accosted. I thought they were going to mug us and was quite prepared to just give them my watch and wallet. However, they started snarling something about Tuntes and Schwulen. Asking which was the stricher or if two fags needed a slutty whore. You, my lovely lady, became incensed. It seems you are not one to tolerate insult. And, you kicked the one closest to you in the…groin.”
Rosie’s eyes were widening. “Oh, my.”
Jack nodded. “Oh, my indeed. Well, after that it was on. Karl and I were involved in a bit of a fistfight which came to a screeching halt when one man screamed Halt! Don’t! at the top of his Teutonic lungs. I had one in a chokehold. Karl had pulled a trench knife on another and had it at the man’s throat. One man, the one you kicked, was just staring at you, like you had a bomb in your hands. And, one was on the ground with a huge knot coming up on his head, while you held that Luger on him.” Jack was smiling now. “And you said, Do you really want to find out how well my father taught me to shoot a Luger? At this distance, it probably doesn’t matter. And, the rest of us just stood there a moment, all staring at a beautiful woman threatening to shoot a common thug dead with his own gun. Karl was the one who calmly suggested we all go our separate ways, and you dropped the pistol in your bag like it belonged there.”
Rosie brought her cigarette to her lips. “Damn fascists. Odd I don’t remember anything.”
Jack smiled at her. “If you were any higher last night, you could have flown a biplane.” Putting the pistol aside, he took in the sight of Rosie, barely covering herself. “So how does it work with you two?”
Smiling, Rosie turned on her side. “What do you mean?”
Jack laughed a bit when he realized he was going to have to tease apart Rosie and Karl’s relationship. “I mean one moment he’s your boyfriend and adoring you, then the next he’s eyeing me like prime beef. We got in last night, and he damn near tucks you in on the couch. Then the moment the bedroom door is closed I get a kiss like I’ve never gotten before. And, you’re ok with all of this?”
“I love Karl. I want him to be happy. If having boyfriends makes him happy, I’m fine with that. Though if he wants to have men as lovers and be in my bed too, I get a say.”
“Oh.” This all sounded especially open minded to Jack. “And what about once you get married?”
Rosie’s smile dimmed a bit, and she shrugged. “That’s not a foregone conclusion.”
Jack’s eyebrows flew up. “I just assumed…. And you don’t mind that he sleeps around on you?”
“Who says I don’t also sleep around on him?”
Jack nervously tittered. “When they told me Berlin was free-thinking, I totally underestimated what they meant.”
Rosie smiled more brightly. “How long are you in Berlin?”
“A few weeks. Then it’s off to Vienna, swing through Geneva, up to Paris and out of Brest. I’ll be home in time for the Pennant Races.”
“And what is it you’re doing?”
“Spending my employer’s money. I’m supposed to be looking for bankable authors to translate into English for the American market. In reality I’ll just gather up some pulpy novelists and hope.”
“And what are the Pennant Races?” Rosie assumed he was talking about a series of horse races.
“The baseball playoffs.”
Rosie laughed. “Those words don’t even make sense.” While Rosie enjoyed jazz bands, she was in no way an Americanophile.
Jack liked the way Rosie laughed and how blue her eyes were. He thought about how much he’d like to have her in bed as well. “So, if I told you Karl was good at pitching but not into catching, that wouldn’t translate either?”
Rosie switched ends of the couch and tilted her head back to look up Jack. She was well aware of what he could and could not see of her body. “All of those words were German at least.”
Jack winked at her. “You want some breakfast?”
“I think I’d like a bath.”
“You take a bath, I’ll order breakfast.”
Rosie stubbed out her cigarette. “Order something for Karl, too. He’ll pick at it, but he must have his morning coffee. Oh, before you do, may I make a phone call?”
Jack nodded. “Who are you calling?”
“Well, I obviously can’t wear that home without a coat.” Rosie pointed to the tabard. “I’d probably get arrested.” She crossed the suite to the telephone and called an outside number. “Good day, Natalia. Rosie von Bischoffen…. I am distressingly without something appropriate to wear home from the Adlon…. Of course, I don’t have any appropriate under garments with me …. Shoes? I wore black ones last night…. Well, I’m about to have a bath, so that’s when I need it…. Jack von Hess …. You’re a love.” Rosie hung up and twirled herself back to Jack. She sat on the arm of the chair and looked down at him as he looked up at her. “You,” she said, taking the tip of his chin between her thumb and forefinger. “Are going to be receiving my dress. Be a dear and hang it up for me.”
Jack could only smile. He thought he might be graced with a long and sultry kiss, but no. He instead would be the lady’s maid. “As you wish.”
Rosie sauntered to the bathroom and closed the door. In the bedroom, Karl sat up momentarily disoriented. He was back at the Adlon. He stumbled out of bed and found his trousers in the press and his coat and vest on the valet stand. Hearing movement and a male voice in the suite, he pulled on his underwear and trousers before investigating. As he passed a mirror he saw a red mark on his face. Ah, the filthy little fascists. And, Jack was it? who he had an enjoyable turn around the bed with. He hoped it was Jack. The blond American he was recalling from last night was an Adonis.
“Good…noon,” Jack said as Karl walked out of the bedroom.
Karl softly smiled. His memory was as good as reality. “Jack. Did I bring my darling Schatzie back with us?”
Jack held up Rosie’s dress from the previous evening. “Was she wearing this?”
Karl nodded and crossed his arms. “Where is she?” he asked, his voice held just a tinge of worry.
“Bath.” Jack lit a cigarette. “I’m not quite sure I ever got her name last night.”
“Adelheid, but everyone calls her Rosie. The hair.”
“Somehow, I thought she said her name was Grafine.”
“No, she is a grafine.”
“She’s quite lovely, and quite sensual.” Jack watched Karl’s eyes, wondering how possessive he might be toward Rosie. “She was a delight to dance with.”
Karl stood next to Jack’s chair and bent down to kiss him. Jack ran his hand through Karl’s messy, thick hair. Karl kissed Jack again and only reluctantly broke away when there was a knock at the door. “I’m going to check on Rosie,” Karl said softly. He also wasn’t properly dressed. He knocked on the bathroom door and went in without waiting for permission. “There she is.” Karl knelt by the tub and kissed her cheek.
Rosie was soaking in the deep tub. She had her hair wrapped in a towel. “I woke up on the sofa in your shirt.”
Karl grinned. “You were plastered last night. I think you might have been on Jack’s back when we walked in.”
Rosie blushed. “Well, you ended up in bed with him.”
Karl picked up a damp lock of her hair that had escaped the impromptu turban and gently tucked it beneath the towel. “Are you ok with that?”
Rosie looked down at her toes. “He told me he was looking for a boyfriend. And, he has yet to show any interest in me.”
“Oh, I think he has plenty of interest.” Karl didn’t tell Rosie how suddenly jealous he’d felt any time Jack paid attention to her, because Karl wanted Jack for himself and Rosie to himself as well.
“And would you be ok with that?”
Karl half frowned. “I don’t know about that. I like him, as far as I barely know him.” Karl sighed a bit. “A lot of Americans do come here just to fuck around with outrageously decadent Germans.”
“Are we outrageously decadent?”
Karl gave her a skeptical look.
“I suppose being a whore and a slut we are.”
“Call me a slut all you want, but don’t talk about yourself that way,” Karl gently reproached her before kissing her lips. “Mind if I take my shirt?”
“I have a dress coming.”
Karl kissed her again. He left the bathroom in time to see one of the hotel maids setting out coffee service. “Fraulein, can I get my shirt quickly pressed?”
“Of course, Graf von Corten,” the young woman said, taking the shirt and leaving.
Jack was sipping a cup of coffee. “Graf von Corten?”
Karl poured himself a cup of coffee and coyly shrugged.
“Do you and the Grafine often wash up at the Adlon?” Jack asked playfully.
Karl set down his coffee after only a taste and kissed Jack again. Jack set down his coffee as well in order to slip his arms around Karl. He had no idea how long he stood there kissing Karl. Karl kissed unlike any man he’d ever kissed before. His lips were gentle yet lithe and insistent.
The next knock on the door brought a cavalcade. Natalia had three outfits with hats for Rosie to approve one, and a bellman carried them up. The madchen was back with a crisply ironed shirt for Karl. And, lastly, the wait staff had brunch. Natalia and the bellman disappeared into the bedroom while Karl put on his shirt in the salon. He knocked on the bathroom door for Rosie, who appeared in a small towel, not even caring that the suite was now bustling with staff. Jack watched her nonchalantly walk half naked to the bedroom. She and Natalia exchanged chattered greetings that faded away once the bellman closed the door behind them, charged with bringing Karl the rest of his suit. He went to wait in the hall to carry for Natalia on her way down. Once completely dressed, Karl had out his wallet and was tipping with abandon. Jack figured that Karl had a reputation to uphold. As the putative host for brunch, Jack tipped the two servers who laid the table and set out the meal as well as poured champagne, water, and more coffee.
When Natalia and Rosie reappeared, Rosie was in a coral silk chiffon drop waist with printed bouquets and a solid coral bow tied on her hip. Her hair was perfect and her makeup noontime appropriate. Jack was amazed at the genuine deference people were showing to Karl and Rosie. Natalia was chattering on about how perfect Rosie looked, and she would put the dress on Rosie’s account. In the States this would be utterly obsequious. Dressed properly for the day, Jack saw an imperial air to them. They moved fluidly, spoke in perfect, cultured German, and simply accepted that others should cater to them. The wealthy of America attempted noble airs, but Karl and Rosie wore them as naturally as their own skin. Jack thought the two of them would fit in very well among his parents’ set in Virginia, descendants of the famous and infamous planter class. His parents would love them once they got past the language barrier.
Rosie stood next to the chair she preferred, assuming the head of the table, and Karl seated her. Jack saw the wait staff out the door. He returned to the table where Karl was waiting for Jack before sitting down himself. The men sat across from each other again. Rosie did a fast “In nomine” and crossed herself as did Karl. He hated going to church, but if someone started blessing things, Karl reflexively joined in.
Jack picked up his champagne. “Prost.” Karl and Rosie responded in kind. “So, that was ten impressive minutes,” Jack commented. He may as well have just seen a performance.
“My dear, Jack,” Rosie said with an alluring smile. “You’re staying at the Adlon,” as if that was all the explanation needed.
As soon as Karl shut Rosie’s apartment door, she said, “That man is gorgeous!”
Karl nodded. He had to agree that Jack was one of the most handsome men he’d ever seen, in real life or the cinema. “He is.” He thought he heard something odd—a squeaky, breathy creaking. “What’s that sound?”
Lise’s bedroom was the first room in the apartment. Rosie listened at the door then turned around smiling but with a finger to her lips. She pulled Karl toward her room. “Lise and Margot.”
Karl looked back down the hall. “They’re…?”
Rosie nodded and put her arms around Karl’s neck. “Just like we could.”
Karl debated saying no. He was tired, and he also had a date with Jack at six for beers in a Grunewald biergarden. Rosie kissing him like she did, so perfectly and delicately, changed his mind. “So, you’re ok with me and Jack?”
Rosie smiled. “He came to Berlin for a man. Besides, he’s married and has three kids.” She started walking backwards, pulling Karl to her room.
“Really? How do you know that?” Karl only slightly resisted.
“There was a picture of them on the dresser. How did you miss it?” Rosie pulled him into her bedroom then swung him around so she could close the double doors. She leaned sultrily against the doors, as though Karl might try to escape.
Karl watched her as he slowly unknotted his tie. He tossed it on the nightstand.
“Keep going,” Rosie teasingly ordered him.