The nuns who ran the shelter enrolled Betty in an all-girl high school to finish senior year. She didn’t mind city school. It was a distraction from the problems that surrounded her. She avoided returning to the shelter and spent her after-school time in the library. She enjoyed reading, but was distracted by her parent’s misery. To her the problem was simple; buy back the farm so they could go home. Once it was paid off no one could take it away from them ever again. They could live off the land worry free, forever. She wished for a way to save the day, but she was only a kid. She wasn’t sure how a cute young teenage girl with long legs could make a lot of money in Citadel.
She started working in the hospital laundry after school. She didn’t really have any expenses so it was easy to save. But at the rate she was earning it would take a long time to accumulate a substantial sum. It was very hard work for very little pay. It seemed unfair. Also, there was absolutely nothing fun about fighting and folding hot, heavy, wet sheets in a room full of steam. There had to be an easier way to make a buck. At least it got her out of the shelter.
Betty worked with a several other girls near her age. Most arrived from similar stories. So they had an instant kinship. The rest were orphans transitioning from being wards of the state to full blown adults. The girls all got along and the laundry was a gossip hub of the hospital. They knew everyone else’s business. Stories that couldn't be confirmed were radically speculated on and modified into more scandalous tales. At times Betty would imitate the players in mock radio dramas. Her gift of mimicry was a big hit with her peers. They all laughed at other peoples problems over dirty, stinking laundry. It made the time pass quickly. Many of the tales of debauchery included a place called Razzles. The ritzy locale became the stuff of urban legend. It was a massive nightclub where everyone in Citadel ended up, eventually.
One night Monica, the oldest laundry girl, revealed a plan to include all her friends on a girl’s night out at Razzles. She recently stumbled into some kind of part time job at the nightclub and was leaving the laundry soon. But before she quit, she wanted to have a going away party with all her young friends. One of the waiters at Razzles offered to sneak the girls in through the back door, avoiding the big purse admission and any questions of age. All the girls had to do, was to look like they belonged, once they were inside. They were ecstatic at the prospect.
The laundry girls arrived at Monica's new apartment. The space seemed too big for just one girl. It was filled with so many wonderful things and a closet full of marvelous clothes. Betty wondered how she could afford it. Exuberance whirled through the apartment. The space quickly transformed into a fashion assembly line. One girl applied make up. One girl set and styled hair. Another fitted dresses. Before long Betty was covered in borrowed clothes.
She stopped to admire her visage in a full-length mirror. She was shocked by the image. This was the first time she wore makeup. She looked different, anonymous. She always thought she was cute, but her new reflection was vampish. She liked it. She looked mature, like a movie star and would play that role for the entire evening.
Her first night at Razzles was like a dream come true. She was completely free. She danced away her dismal existence in the city. Everything at Razzles sparkled; from the crystal chandeliers, to sequin dresses, to the smiles of handsome men who approached her. In the Citadel, money meant power and freedom. They had it and she wanted it.
They treated her like a princess. She ate the finest foods and drank the most expensive champaign. Little Betty McDougal didn't have to count her pennies that night. There was no shortage of money. Cash flowed from suitor’s wallets. Their money granted her access to everything. All she had to do was smile and say yes. Anything she wanted was hers for the taking and the men paid her way. But like her father always warned her, "Don’t expect something for nothing."
For most of the night, the familiar faces of her friends surrounded Betty. They were passed around from guy to guy on the dance floor between songs. Over the course of the evening couples paired up. Later the group thinned out. The laundry girls were disappearing one by one. Then it was Betty's turn.
While she was eating a dessert she noticed her companion studying her intently. It was a knowing look with a different type of smile. He stood up and directed Betty to follow him. She abandoned her cake and obliged. He escorted her to a door at the back of the nightclub. It led to a dark descending stairway. She wobbled on her heels, nearly falling, but her partner’s strong arms caught her. The stairs ended in a cool cellar. They crossed the cellar to a hidden door. Through it was a hand carved tunnel dug during Prohibition. She was scared and clung to her underworld guide. As they progressed, the space got tighter and darker. After a series of snaking twists and turns they arrived in the quiet lobby of the most expensive hotel in the city. She was afraid to ask any questions. The man at the desk recognized her escort and after a quick cryptic exchange between men, she was whisked into an elevator and heading up. She never saw the face of the elevator operator. Her silent suitor turned to her. He could see she was scared. He leaned in to assure her with a long and passionate kiss. It made her dizzy and she melted in his arms. Boys had kissed her before but never like that. Moments later they were on the top floor, in an ornate room with a massive bed deserving of royalty.
He explained to her that this moment wasn't about love it was about business and he was defining the terms of a deal. He held up a roll of money. It was for her. To him money meant nothing, but Betty wanted it. All she had to do was lie back on the silk sheets and say yes.
He stuffed the money in her purse.
She was commanded to act as if she liked it, but it wasn’t an act. She loved it. She felt alive, powerful. She wanted more. And with each yes, she got it. It was magical.
This was the trick Monica learned to survive in Citadel. Monica shared that discovery with her friends showing them how to make real money. She provided them the means to get out of the dirty laundry. Instead of cleaning it, they could be messing it. Betty smiled to herself. She was fucking a king and she loved it!
Night after night Betty returned to Razzles. If she showed up, she made money. All she had to do was hang on a wealthy man's arms and words, and perform. Even though it was like dating, she understood that she was an employee and it was business. But it still felt special.
As a janitor Betty’s father, Randall, was struggling. He performed a lifetime of hard work, but as much as he hated to admit it, he was wearing out. After each night shift he would discover a new ache or pain inside him. He knew was lucky to have the job. It didn’t pay much, but he didn’t want to complain. He just couldn’t seem to get ahead, let alone save anything. Returning to the farm was starting to feel more unlikely. To distract those thoughts, he began whistling old tunes while he worked. It insulated him from his dilemma, somewhat.
Betty’s mother had a nervous breakdown. Her mental state had deteriorated and she was slipping further. The hospital that had helped the McDougals survive wasn’t equipped to care for her type of illness. She needed to be transferred to a state run mental facility, but Randall couldn’t afford it. He was stuck and looked for any options to help her. One of the admittance advisers at the facility offered a potential solution. He explained to Randall that if he divorced his wife, in her diminished capacity, she would become the property of the state. Then the facility could admit her and the state would pick up the tab for her care.