queen on her own color ♡ JFK

p.18 crisis

It took two weeks since Christina last saw Jack for her to finally be brave enough to pick up the phone and try to call the White House.

Since she wasn't welcome home, Pop let her stay at his place for the moment. It was her who contacted him first and informed him of her situation. Jacinta—with her newly nomadic lifestyle—wasn't a viable option for shelter but she knew Pop would take care of her like he always tried to. He even granted her a break from the acts until she was back on her feet.

Her life was turning upside down, but at least someone was there to catch her.

Pearl took a long gulp from the Tequila she'd found in the man's impressive stash. Her knee jerked up and down while sitting down and waiting.

The operator patched through, but not to Jack directly. A woman's wry voice slithered through the speaker instead.

"Miss Pearl White?"

Eagerly, Chris all but pressed her mouth right up to the telephone.

"Yes. Is the President there? May I speak to him?"

There was a short but telling silence.

"He can't at the moment. In fact, I don't think he'll be able to for a while."

"Can I know why?" Disappointment filled her question.

"I'm afraid not."

The paranoia fed into her and got unfounded ideas into her mushed head. Chris feared it could be code for 'he don't have no time for no Negro'. It might have been a ridiculous thought, but insecurity that had been brewing every day of her life kept leading her to exaggerated conjecture such as that.

"Can you at least tell him I called and that I need to speak to him?"

"Of course, Miss White."

Pursing her lips as a form of repressing her emotions, she terminated the call and shook her head as if shaking the gloomy energy away.

Not allowing herself a moment to think—lest she kept on moping around—Christina hopped onto another subject to focus on; It was about time for her to start looking for an apartment of her own in the city. She would rent one out first, and then see how things went from there.

Pop offered to go apartment hunting with her, since in his words, he had 'many contacts'. Christina made it clear to him that she didn't want another handout or a discount, and the man conceded, but he insisted on tagging along because he wanted 'only the best for her'. On top of that, he said he'd also help her out with her finances and with filling out the paperwork if necessary.

After a day of roaming Manhattan, they were both exhausted. They'd had dinner at one of his restaurants, the Adamot, which had been decorated with natural elements and makeshift tents over the tables to celebrate a Jewish holiday.

"I liked the one on Soho," the girl told him.

"Because it's near Broadway."

"Mm-hmm. It's a bit far from the Cherry, I know, but it was so classy. And did you see the spiral staircase?"

"I saw it, all right. You sure ain't one of those minimalists."

It was impossible not to be engulfed by baroque tone of the place. Pearl had let herself be enchanted by it and now couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

"More is more," Chris stated, showing that love for excess in her smirk.

Her savings had amounted to a comfortable cushion that she could now lie on. She needed to. While she'd made five hundred dollars the first two days when she started at the Cherry Pop, now thousands upon thousands of unspent dough had accumulated to her name. That was about the only thing that kept her leveled in that moment.