Free The Untold by Courtney Collins

trough.
    Jack Brown needed a shave and he needed a bath. He imagined that after riding so far he had collected every kind of northwestern pollen and every kind of northwestern dirt. There was a line beneath his knees, a watermark, where the river had washed his trousers part clean.
    He galloped up the last stretch of road and tied his horse alongside the others, then he leapt up the steps to the house.
    A girl with bright orange hair opened the door. He had not seen her before. She had red-painted lips and she was wearing a brilliant green dress, which, all combined after the long ride, was like a shot of color waking up his senses.
    I’m here for the usual
, he said.
    Usual? There’s nothin’ usual around here.
    A bath and a shave
, said Jack Brown.
    Are you black?
said the girl, examining him.
We don’t serve blacks.
    Jack Brown felt that familiar and exhausted anger.
Where’s the madam
?
    She’s off crook. You look black but you’ve got blue eyes,
said the girl
.
    And what color do you think I am inside?
said Jack Brown.
    The girl looked confused. She did not answer.
    Tell Lay Ping I’m here. I’m a regular.
    Do you have money?
said the girl.
    Jack Brown pulled a wad from his pocket.
    S’pose you’re not too black. It’s just with them black ones you never know if they’ve got money to pay.
    I’m an Irish bastard, just like you
, he said.
    The girl stepped back from the door and Jack Brown walked inside.
    On the wall behind the front desk was an arrangement of strings that wound up to the second level of the house. Jack Brown had never been upstairs but he guessed that somewhere along the hall the strings split off into the rooms where they were each connected to a bell. The girl pulled on one of the strings and soon Lay Ping appeared at the top of the stairs. Jack Brown could feel heat radiating from his face at the sight of her. She was holding the banister as she walked and her dress was so tight, all the way to her ankles, she could only walk down the steps by twisting her hips from side to side.
    This man says he’s your regular
, said the girl to Lay Ping.
    Jack Brown stood up.
    Lay Ping put out her hand and said,
Jack Brown. So dusty!
    Jack Brown took her hand
. I’m hoping you can clean me up, make me respectable.
    I tried that before but it did not work!
    They both laughed.
    Can we try again?
said Jack Brown.
    No time,
said Lay Ping,
I am star of the show. But you wouldn’t know because you’ve never seen it.
She punched Jack Brown on his shoulder.
I can give you a shave
, she said
. And maybe if you stay after the show, I can make you respectable.
    Lay Ping led Jack Brown through two swinging doors into a room signposted T HE W ET R OOM
.
The room was steamy and thick with the smell of tobacco and the menthol of shaving cream. Lay Ping sat Jack Brown in a reclining leather chair. Standing behind him, she tipped him and cupped his chin with her hands and scraped her fingers through the thickness of his beard.
    You want it all off?
she said.
Or you want those lamb chops?
    She traced a line beneath his cheekbone with her finger.
    What do you think?
    I don’t like them.
    Whatever you think is best, Lay Ping.
    Lay Ping covered Jack Brown’s face with a hot towel and pressed her fingertips into his temples. She wrapped her hands around his head and drew her hands in and massaged the hinge of his jaw. Soon he was aware only of his skull on his neck and his mouth gaping open. She ran her hands through the hair on his head and pulled at the roots, which sent a tingling from his scalp tothe soles of his feet. He felt a suction on his forehead as she drew breath through the towel and then she thwacked him on the head and it sounded like a hammer, though it did not hurt at all. She unwrapped the towel and replaced it with another that was hotter and smelt of eucalyptus and made his eyes water.
    She removed the towel and worked up a lather against