The King and the Courtesan (21 page)

I could picture Mimi frowning. She was probably at work right now, and the only reason I could reach her at all was because she was on break. “Since when did you become shallow?”

“I’m just saying. I’ve had way worse tricks, and I got paid a fraction of what I’m getting paid now.”

“And you say you aren’t in any danger?”

I gnawed on a lip for a moment. “Not really…”

“What does ‘not really’ mean?”

“
I mean
Ezekiel has hired someone whose only job is to make sure I’m not hurt.”

“But you’re in harm’s way, aren’t you?”

“Only once, and I was fine. That was a freak situation. I just wanted to call because I knew you’d be freaking out.”

“Hell yeah, I’m freaking out.”

“Would you stop then? You’re being ridiculous. You act like this is the first time I’ve put my life in danger. It’s always been in danger. More so than it is now. Now I have a frickin’
bodyguard
, Mimi. One who doesn’t have sex with me. Even better!”

“I hate it when you joke around like that.”

“Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that I’m fine, and I’ll try to get over there to see you when I can, because I know you’ll want to see for yourself that I’m fine and dandy. Oh, and tell Joel I hate him.”

“Joel and I broke up.”

I rolled my eyes. “How long will that last? Two weeks?”

“I’m serious. I’m done with him. He was cheating on me.”

Because he definitely hasn’t done
that
before
. “Yeah, okay.”

Mimi exhaled heavily. “Melissa…”

“I have to go. I’ll call you when I can, all right?”

I hung up before she could protest, and I went back to Ezekiel, who was seated near a window sipping champagne. He glanced at me, and I sat in his lap—we’d become pretty good at silent communication. After slinging an arm around my waist, he lifted a grape from his plate and pressed it against my lips. I drew it into my mouth slowly, trying to be sensual. It must have worked, because Ezekiel nodded and squeezed my thigh.

Roger peeked into the room. “Sir, we’ll be deplaning in five minutes.”

“Thank you, Roger.”

* * *

Nothing of much consequence occurred for a few days. Ezekiel was gone most of the time, and when he did return, nothing unusual happened. I was glad Ezekiel wasn’t a kinky sort of man—he had the sort of personality that often came with hidden kinks. However, for the most part, we did what was within the realm of
normal
, even if sometimes he could be rough. As long as he didn’t ask me to call him master, I considered myself lucky.

When I wanted out of the apartment, Roger was there to drive me. I liked hanging out with Roger and I wondered why I hadn’t met more guys like him. Then I remembered I was a prostitute, and the only guys I tended to meet were men interested in my services, not conversation. Of course, I wouldn’t meet guys like Roger, because Roger had himself a pretty wife and a sex life that he got for free. I was a little curious about how he and his wife operated. From what I could tell, he lived almost exclusively at Ezekiel’s penthouse.

We sipped coffee outside a posh café downtown. I wore a dark gray summer dress, enjoying the cool breeze and din of street music. The city felt alive here, more like a thrumming organism than the rotting corpse of Metro.

“Bahiya knows I have a rather consuming job,” Roger told me when I asked why he didn’t go home every night. “She allows me to do whatever it takes to pay the bills, and she hasn’t asked many questions about it beyond my vague answers. I think she’d care more if she were healthier and able to spend more time with me.”

“Doesn’t she miss you, though?”

“She’s usually too sick to do anything more than nap, read, and watch TV, so it’s not a big deal.”

“Oh.”

Roger peered at me from behind his black-framed glasses. “What are you insinuating, Melissa?”

“Well, I mean, I guess this illness and your job isn’t doing wonders for your marriage, right?

“Of course not. If she were healthy…” He rested his head on a hand. “It would be completely different.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “Bummer. But I really respect you for sticking by her and everything. That’s noble of you.”

“It would be pretty rotten of me to cheat on my cancer-stricken wife. Geez.”

“I know a lot of people who would do it and not even feel guilty. Hell, they’d feel
entitled
to sex because their wife couldn’t provide it.” I stared at my hand as I stirred my coffee.

“I guess you’ve met a lot of creeps like that.”

I nodded. “Most of the time I don’t know their reasons. But sometimes they feel like it’s necessary to tell me about it. I think it might be because they feel guilty. I don’t know. But their reasons are usually bullshit. Or creepy. One guy asked me if he could call me ‘sport’ and if I’d call him ‘daddy.’” I winced. “I guess some women don’t mind doing that sort of thing, but it just freaked me out.”

“Was there any time you…I don’t know. Is there any time you actually liked the guy and enjoyed yourself?”

“Every now and then, maybe. Sometimes the guy is just so
lonely
, you know? Like…” I took a deep breath. “This one guy bought me flowers. He was the only one who had ever done that. And you could tell he just wanted human contact. Mostly when a guy looks pathetic I don’t care, but this guy was just—I don’t know. That was the only time I felt a hint of a connection with someone, and I don’t even know
why
. He affected me when no one else did.”

“Was he a regular or…?”

“Nope. One time thing. Never heard from him or saw him again. A part of me is afraid something bad happened to him, because he seemed really depressed.”

Roger gulped. “Geez.”

I nodded. “At least with most guys, you know it’s about sex. But with guys like him—his name was Jonathan—I wonder if it’s even about the sex. That’s when my job gets sad. I wish—I wish I could have offered him something, but I don’t know what. I don’t think he wanted to have sex with me, but he needed to because that was what he was paying me for. Maybe he wanted someone to talk to, a woman who would touch him…” I shook my head. “God, this is sad. Let’s get off this topic. So, your wife. Has her condition improved at all?”

“She’s going into surgery tomorrow. We’ll see. Right now they’re giving her heavy-duty treatment, and she’s pretty weak. I just hope…” He looked toward the street. I reached for his hand and squeezed it.

“I hope everything works out all right.”

Roger just ran a hand over his hair.

“I’m guessing this surgery is a big deal?”

“Yeah. It’s to remove the last tumor. It’s pretty risky.”

“As in, she could—you know—um…”

“Die? It’s possible.”

“Are you gonna stop in and see her?”

“Can’t. Ezekiel hasn’t given me any time off—” He stopped immediately when I jumped to a stand.

“Are you serious? Let’s go see her now.”

Roger blinked at me. “What?”

“Right now. Come on.” I grabbed his hand again and tugged it. “It won’t take too long. And Ezekiel won’t mind, I’m sure, as long as I come with you.”

“Melissa—”

“Come on.”

He groaned but stood. I paid for the coffee with the card from Ezekiel and then we were off, headed to Alpin, which was the neighborhood where Roger apparently lived. Alpin was a bit to the west of downtown, known mostly for its old, historical row houses and general beauty. It wasn’t a terribly
unaffordable
place to live—a lot of the old buildings were falling apart, and since many of the apartment buildings were ancient, landlords gave discounts on rent. However, despite the internal problems, the neighborhood was still done up nice, with trees lining the cobblestone streets and wrought iron fences that weren’t rusting or crooked. People walked their dogs and pushed strollers and a few college students hung around the park, dressed stylishly as they fiddled with their smartphones. I supposed they were from Gina Valley, which had a campus a few miles away. It was a foreign world to me, of course. I’d lived in this city all my life, and I’d never had a reason to come to Alpin.

“Nice neighborhood,” I said.

“It’s all right.” Roger took a left.

“No, it’s pretty. Looks like an old neighborhood, but it’s kept up nice.”

Roger shrugged. “Well, I suggested a place in the suburbs—it would have been cheaper, in the long run—but Bahiya
loves
Alpin. All her friends live here. And I guess I like it, too, so we decided, why not?”

For about ten minutes, we wove through neighborhood blocks, passing houses of brick, stone, and even pale lilac siding, all with small, manicured lawns. Roger finally stopped at a long stretch of row houses, each four stories tall, all brick and iron. Roger parked on the street and got out, though he didn’t have a chance to open my door before I opened it myself, stepping onto the sidewalk. Underneath my feet were chalk drawings of stick figures and a smiling sun, and something that could have been a dog or a horse. I smiled a little.

“Yeah, so, um, we live on the first two floors.” He gestured toward the row house that read 1067 in brass letters.

I followed Roger to the front door, which led into a lobby. There were two doors, one on each side. Roger opened the door on the left, which emitted a loud barking.

“You have a dog?” I grinned.

“Yea—oof!”

A big, shaggy, black dog shoved its nose in Roger’s crotch, tail thumping against the wall. Roger shoved it back with a leg, and the dog bounded past him to me, mouth hanging wide open, tongue off to one side. I reached down to pet it, and it licked my wrist.

“This is Kendra. She’s not much of a lady, as you can—Kendra, get off of her.”

Kendra jumped on me, placing her big paws on my waist, reaching for my face. I laughed as I pushed her back, and Roger finally got her down by taking her collar.

“Crazy mutt,” he grumbled, pushing her away from him. “Go bother someone else.”

“Roger?”

Roger and I both looked up. A blonde, blue-eyed woman stood across the living room, in the entrance to what looked like a kitchen. She didn’t look anything like Bahiya.

“Hi! Um, Pam, this is Melissa. Melissa, Pam. Pam is Bahiya’s friend, who lives just down the street. She’s a nurse, so she hangs around to help Bahiya if she can. Pam, Melissa is—uh—the wife of the guy I told you about.”

“Nice to meet you.” Pam smiled gently. She struck me as someone who would make a good nurse, even dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “Roger is so secretive about his life. I never expected to meet anyone he worked for. Anyway, long time no see.” Pam crossed the room and hugged Roger warmly. When she pulled back, she kept a hand on Roger’s shoulder. “It’s been, what, a month since I’ve seen you?”

“I was away. Away with Melissa and her husband. Couldn’t exactly duck out of that one. But now I’m here—even though I don’t have work off, Melissa said I should come see Bahiya and this slimy dog—Kendra, for the last time!” Roger kneed Kendra out of his crotch again. “Geez.”

“They work you too hard, Roger.” Pam frowned and looked at me.

“It’s not my decision,” I said. “Everything is up to my—husband.”

“Well, thanks for stopping by.” Pam headed toward the kitchen again. “I made some lasagna if either of you want any.”

“Um, maybe later. I should probably see Bahiya first.”

Pam waved toward the stairs. Roger glanced at me and crossed the living room. I looked around before I followed. It was a small living room, painted an understated blue and filled with plush, mismatched furniture. There was clutter, but it was good clutter, the kind that made it feel like a home. There were some paintings, but most of the frames on the walls had pictures. I glanced at the assortment hanging on the staircase. Most of them featured Bahiya—her friends, college, graduation, the wedding. Roger was a much rarer find. Even the photographs seemed to catalogue his absence from the house.

I caught up to Roger at the top of the stairs. He tapped the door to the immediate right.

“Come in,” came a muffled, accented voice from inside. Roger entered as I peeked in curiously from behind him.

It was clearly a room furnished and designed by a woman, with warm yellow wallpaper and white antique furniture. The curtains were translucent, hanging from the only window with eerie weightlessness. Everything matched, and nothing was out of place. It was the kind of room I had always dreamed about, not because it was fancy or expensive, but because it felt like the sunlight had come in and decided to stay a while. The bed looked so goddamn comfortable, and the window seat, a perfect spot to curl up and read a book.

Which was exactly where Bahiya was. For a moment, she didn’t look real, dressed in baggy beige pants and a loose, long-sleeved shirt. Even her pale skin seemed to match the décor, looking creamy and soft like the comforter. Only then did I notice she hardly had any hair. In all her photos, it had been long and glossy, the kind most would envy. I didn’t know many Jahralian women, but most were built like her—small and thin, like porcelain dolls with almond-shaped, purple eyes.

Bahiya uncurled her legs and dropped her book. Perhaps she was too thin. The pictures on the staircase had portrayed her with more color and life. She looked sick, but only barely.

“Roger.” A smile lit up her face, but then she saw me, and it dimmed. “Who is—?”

Roger cleared his throat. “Bahiya, this is Melissa. She’s the wife of the man I work for. I mostly hang around her, keeping her safe and what-not.”

Well, it wasn’t a complete lie.

“Oh.” Bahiya’s inner light seemed to dim, and her shoulders sagged. “Um, hello.”

I waved. “Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you. Roger has had so many good things to say about you.”

Not really
, but this was another lie that couldn’t hurt anyone.

Bahiya smiled slightly, but she turned her attention away when Roger put a hand on her shoulder. She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’ll—I’ll wait downstairs,” I told them, then slipped out and went back to the living room. Pam was somewhere else, because I didn’t hear her milling around in the kitchen. I decided to sit on the couch, but being as I had nothing to do, I could only glance around the room. I picked up a frame on the end table and stared at the picture in it. Bahiya and Roger were touching soda cans together, grinning. Looking at them made me feel bad. They seemed happy, carefree,
normal
, like a married couple should look. I was jealous. The only boyfriend I’d had was Blade, but that was more about dust than anything else. This picture was a gateway into a world I’d never visited, and I would have done anything to step inside and call that world my own.