The King and the Courtesan Read online

  “Thank you,” he said with a slight smile that didn’t touch his eyes. He took the glass and surveyed it for a moment. I stood there like a moron, wondering what to do.

  “The glasses are clean,” I assured him meekly. “I took them from the back of the cupboard. So they’re probably the ones I cleaned two days ago.”

  “Do you do all of Blade’s chores?” the man asked, taking a sip of his water.

  “When I’m around, I guess I do.” I folded my hands in front of me.

  The man stared at me for an uncomfortable length of time. I couldn’t ignore the way his eyes traveled to my legs. Usually men went for the breasts first, but I guess my skinny stems did draw attention to themselves in this pathetic dress, and my boobs were small anyway.

  “What’s your name?” he asked slowly.

  “Melissa,” I replied. Why did he make me so nervous? Maybe it was those eyes. They were eyes that dug past your skin and stared at all your secrets.

  “I’m Ezekiel.”

  I bit my lip to keep from whimpering.

  Ezekiel was no secret to this neighborhood. He wasn’t a drug lord. He was a drug king. Of course, he had several legitimate side businesses that could explain his vast amounts of wealth, but certainly a thorough audit might reveal a few extra million here or there with shady origins. He kept anyone with the power to dethrone him nice and happy with bribes, and if a few poor addicts vanished at night, well, it was practically community service, right? Less people to imprison, after all. There were rumors of Ezekiel’s swift, cold rule. If you gave him his money, Ezekiel was just. If you didn’t, you were erased from both life and history. I’d never seen him before, nor had I heard rumors about what he looked like. I thought he was an old man, but he seemed to be about thirty-five or so. He was exceptionally good-looking, something even I had to admit despite knowing all the crimes he committed.

  “You’ve heard of me,” Ezekiel stated, watching my face.

  “Who hasn’t?” I said nervously. He was more legend than man, really, and I hadn’t even thought he was real. I’d assumed he was some bogeyman whispered about between paranoid addicts who liked to tell stories over their trash can fires. I thought back to the few women I’d met who later turned up dead because they couldn’t pay their debts. No one knew who killed them, and while a drug king likely didn’t bother himself with offing every person who owed him money, there were always whispers that the trail led back to Ezekiel.

  Ezekiel stared at me again. I shifted anxiously, trying to pull at the hem of my dress. Normally I didn’t care who saw my ass, but in front of money and influence, it bothered me. For some reason, his opinion of me seemed worth more than that of a random guy on the street.

  “So, what is the nature of your relationship with Blade?” Ezekiel asked, setting down his glass.

  “Um, I guess I’m his girlfriend under the best of circumstances.” I swallowed to wet my dry throat.

  “And under the worst?”

  I shifted uneasily from foot to foot. I should be honest with this guy. But my pride begged me not to.

  “Um…”

  “Judging by that bruise on your collarbone, I would assume something of an abusive nature.” He ran a finger over the edge of his glass. His gaze was so forward and unabashed. I wondered if he knew how uncomfortable he was making me. But of course he did. He’d gotten rich off of controlling people.

  “I-I tripped,” I told him.

  “Hmm.” He glanced around the apartment and fell silent.

  “Do you want anything to eat?” I asked.

  “I apologize, but I wouldn’t dare touch any of the food in this apartment, let alone eat it.”

  “Oh. Yeah, I guess you’re—you’re used to all sorts of great stuff, right?”

  “I have my own chef,” he said matter-of-factly, as if this were something as common as a vacuum cleaner.

  “That must be nice.” I pressed my lips together and rocked a bit onto my heels. “Blade is pretty well off. It’s just…he likes to waste money.”

  “I know he’s a bit of a gambler. Such is the illogical desire to make more money, only to spend it in the risky process of making even more.” Ezekiel’s eyes darted up to me. “The mysteries of the human mind.”

  I could only nod.

  “Why don’t you sit?” Ezekiel offered, pointing to a chair across from him. “My boys will want to count the money and it may take some time.”

  I slid into a chair and crossed my legs, perching my hands on my raised knee. Ezekiel kept track of all my movements with a sharp eye.

  The silence was awkward. But judging by Ezekiel’s expression, I was the only one who thought so. He was studying me, but not in the perverted way most men I did. It seemed instead that he was probing my thoughts. I wanted to know what he saw.

  “Curious,” Ezekiel muttered.

  “What?”

  “I’ve met many of Blade’s…female acquaintances.” His lip curled at the last two words. He paused and picked up his glass of water. “All of them are rather the same. But you’re different.”

  I couldn’t breathe for a moment. “H-how so?”

  He took a contemplative sip of his drink. Everything below his chest was perfectly still, and even his breathing was impossible to detect.

  Before he could answer, the door opened. Blade strode in, face washed in relief.

  “Your guys counted the money, and it’s all there. See? You can trust me.”

  Ezekiel stood slowly. I stood, too.

  “You’ve never given me a reason not to.” He stepped closer to Blade. “So why are you petrified?”

  “I’m not afraid,” Blade insisted.

  “Hmm.” Ezekiel pulled out his slim phone and looked at the screen. “I must be going. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Blade. There are few men I can trust nowadays. I like to work with a man who can handle his responsibilities.” He nodded sharply, then focused those blue eyes on me. “It was nice meeting you, Melissa.”

  Then he turned and walked out of the apartment, his bodyguards trailing behind. Blade let out a gigantic sigh and stumbled back a step, looking immensely relieved.

  He looked around at me, eyes narrowing. “What did he say to you?”

  “He only asked for my name,” I whispered.

  “Good. I don’t need you fucking things up.” He brushed past me. I felt his sweaty arm pass over mine. Blade wouldn’t admit it, but he’d definitely been terrified.

  Chapter 3

  I came home late. Mimi was sitting on the couch with her current boyfriend, Joel, who was holding her in his lap with one hand and drinking a beer with the other.

  “Hey, Giraffe,” he called when I entered. “Can you get me another beer?”

  “I’m not your maid,” I growled at him from the doorway.

  “Just get him a beer, Melissa,” Mimi said, running a hand over her forehead. “I don’t want to argue.”

  Mumbling under my breath, I yanked a beer out of the refrigerator and stalked into the living room, then tripped over some piles of clothing Mimi had lying across the carpet. Joel laughed, which wasn’t malicious in itself, but I knew him better than to assume otherwise.

  I regained my balance and thrust the beer at him.

  “Like a newborn foal,” Joel said with a smirk. “Stumbling over those long legs.”

  If it were the beginning of their relationship, Mimi would have scolded him for making fun of me and hit him on the shoulder playfully. But now she just sat there and stared at the TV, eyes blank. She knew as well as I did that keeping Joel happy was her highest priority.

  When I turned to walk away, I felt his fingers graze across my ass. Mimi wasn’t looking; she was concentrating on a sitcom. I twirled around to glare at him, but he gave me a wide-eyed look of innocence that veiled the threat beneath it.

  I squinted furiously and walked away. Most of Mimi’s boyfriends never caught wind of my profession. Joel knew, though. He knew because a year ago, he’d been a
customer. And six months after he walked out of that hotel room of mine, he hooked up with my sister. Imagine his surprise when he visited and saw me standing in the kitchen, washing the dishes. We never told Mimi he’d slept with me. He didn’t tell because he used the knowledge as leverage over my behavior. I didn’t tell because I knew it would break Mimi’s heart.

  I didn’t feel like going out tonight, so I locked myself in my room, clamped my headphones over my ears, and shot up street dust, my drug of choice. Then I lay in my bed and stared at my ceiling. Colors swirled and the music became so beautiful that I cried. I wept hard enough that snot ran down my upper lip. The ceiling seemed to grow and bulge like an overfilled balloon moments before popping. The water stains turned dark, crawling like sharp fingers toward me. I whimpered and held myself tight in a fetal position as the ceiling began to throb like a swollen wound. The music dipped and swirled, then exploded. I swore I heard the walls crack, and I covered my head, expecting to be bombarded by debris. When the ceiling finally burst open, a million insects rained down—insects with a thousand legs, beady red eyes, and gnashing yellow teeth.

  When I wound down, I was shaking so violently that I fell out of bed. I stayed on the floor, clutching my legs and squeezing my forehead against my knees. Sweat made my tight grip slip. I felt too exposed on the hardwood floor and slithered under the bed. There I stayed, unable to fall asleep and unable to dispel the image of the insect mob, waiting in the ceiling so that it could eat me alive.

  * * *

  I didn’t sleep much but I eventually rolled out from underneath my bed in the morning, feeling weak and temperamental. I grabbed some eggs from the refrigerator and threw them in a dirty pan that had been used to make scrambled eggs the morning before. I held my head in one hand while I tapped my nails against the stovetop with the other.

  Joel came into the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head to reveal the line of dark hair that sprouted from his navel and crawled into his boxers. Then he tugged his tank top back down and hitched up his pants.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “Where’s Mimi?” I asked, refusing to look at him.

  “Work. You know her shifts starts at nine.”

  I glanced at the clock. Damnit. Ten? I could have sworn it was eight last time I checked.

  I turned back to the eggs.

  “So…two eggs. Is one for me?”

  “No.”

  “Since when can a little thing like you eat two eggs?”

  “I’m not little.”

  “Okay, you’re tall. But not wide. Your stomach’s gotta be half the size of mine. Why don’t you give me those two eggs, hmm? A man needs a healthy breakfast.”

  “These are the only two eggs left, and I’m not giving them to you.”

  “Not even one?”

  “No.” I finally glared at him. “I’m hungry and I feel like shit. Back off.”

  “Come on, Giraffe. Don’t be this way.” He inched closer and I took a step back, keeping my hand on the handle of the frying pan.

  “Don’t call me Giraffe.”

  He gazed at me a long time, then sighed. “Look, I kind of need those eggs. I start work in forty-five minutes. I don’t got time for anything else. But you! What do you do during the day? You go to your boyfriend’s and chill out in front of his big screen TV. I’m sure he has plenty of eggs for you to eat.”

  I kept my mouth shut.

  “Melissa, come on.”

  “There’s other stuff to eat. Cereal, for one.”

  “I could say the same for you.”

  “I got up first, I found the eggs, and I’m cooking them. First come, first serve. Now back off.”

  Joel leaned against the counter. I hated him. I hated his skinny arms, hated that four-day beard, hated those narrow hazel eyes that never took me seriously. I hated those thick lips, hated them before I even knew why I should hate them. Mimi always had sleazy boyfriends, but she hated it when I told her that, so I stopped.

  “Someone’s pretty ornery,” he said. “What side of the bed did you get up on?”

  I had spent the night curled up under my bed. I didn’t tell him that.

  “Come on, Melissa. This argument is getting old. Give me the damn eggs.”

  “You can push Mimi around all you want, but I owe you nothing, and I will eat the eggs.”

  And I guess that was all it took to send him over the top. Before I could even think of escape, a meaty hand wrapped around my throat, spun me around, and slammed my back against the refrigerator. I hissed in pain. The hold wasn’t strong enough to suffocate me, but the press of his fingers was as constricting as it was impenetrable. I wrapped my longer fingers around his wrist and tugged, to no success.

  “You’ve sure got a nasty attitude for someone so breakable,” he spat in my face. “I guess that’s how you’re different than Mimi. Someone taught her manners. Whoever did skipped you.”

  “Let go of me,” I gasped, wriggling in hopes of loosening his grasp. He put an end to that by shoving his hips against mine, pinning me completely between him and the wall.

  “And you sure seem high and mighty for a whore,” he said, his nose inches from mine. I could smell his morning breath, and I tried not to wince.

  “Asshole,” I choked. “Let me go!”

  Joel glared at me a few seconds, at least until I was able to slap him across the face. For a moment, he was stunned, but then he roared and tightened his grip on my windpipe.

  “Who do you think you are, huh? I could snap your neck in three seconds. You’re not brave. You’re stupid.”

  “Guess we have something in common,” I wheezed.

  His free hand grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the freezer door. Stars sparkled and bright colored spots flitted in the corners of my vision. Before I could fully regain awareness, I felt his fingers leave my hair and enter down the front of my pants.

  Now I was pissed. If he handed me a few twenties, he could touch me all he wanted. But never for free, and never under the impression that he controlled the situation. I tried slapping him again, but he avoided the blow and pushed his hand against my throat a little tighter while the other dug farther into my underwear.

  “A dirty whore,” he whispered in my ear. “That’s all you are.”

  With the last of my remaining strength, I swung my knee up as hard as I could and nailed him in the groin. He gasped and stumbled away, his hands reaching for his most tender region. I slapped him across the face once more for good measure, and when he reached out for me, I yanked open the front door and darted down the hallway, ignoring the fact that I had no keys or money on me.

  “MELISSA!” Joel screamed, but I was already taking the stairs two at a time. He would never catch up, not with all his smoking and drinking and general bad health.

  I hit the street at a sprint and ran until my lungs were burned so raw I couldn’t take a breath without coughing. Then I collapsed onto the yellow grass beside an abandoned playground and stared at the sky.

  I wanted to cry but couldn’t. I couldn’t cry without drugs. Shit, I couldn’t even be depressed without drugs. So I lay there and watched the clouds move, searching for shapes and faces that weren’t there.

  * * *

  The only safe place I knew of within walking distance was my ex-friend Cordelia’s apartment. I’d found out she was sleeping with Blade about a month ago, even after I warned her about his violent nature. But I didn’t stay angry with her for very long. I knew she did it for the same reason I did. And she was more terrified of him than I was. We hadn’t officially made up, but I figured now was a good time to do it.

  When Cordelia heard me on the intercom, she was silent for at least ten seconds. I almost ducked away in defeat, but she sighed and said, “Come up, I guess.”

  Cordelia was a dark-skinned, dark-eyed beauty. She was small and curvy, a build completely opposite to my own. She and I were what we called “freelance prostitutes.” Cordelia had tons of horror stories abo
ut her old pimp, which kept me far away from anyone of the like.

  When I greeted her at the door, I almost fell over. She was a complete and total mess. Her eyeliner and mascara were smeared all over her face. The whites of her eyes were stained a shade somewhere between yellow and pink. She’d gained weight. There was a large scar across her chest, newly healed. She looked terrified and relieved all at once. Before I could move, she reached out and gathered me into a tight hug.

  I told her about my encounter with Joel and how I had no wallet or food. I didn’t want to go back to that apartment for another few hours, just to be sure. Cordelia promised to take care of me for as long as I needed her.

  “These men are sick,” she told me, digging around inside her refrigerator. The apartment, which had once been relatively quaint, had fallen into disarray. Boxes of expired food sprawled out across her counter, but the worst of it was the used condom in the sink. “I swear, some higher being fucked up when he made them.” She sniffed a container of yogurt and winced. “You’re best sticking with your fellow bitches.”

  “Maybe it’s me,” I whispered.

  “Ha! Wouldn’t that be flattering? No.” Cordelia shook her head. “Honey, don’t you worry your head about it. Blade and Joel…they’re born animals, plain and simple. There’s not a good bone in their bodies. They use us like condoms and throw us out.”

  “Blade’s probably worse.”

  Cordelia paused and glanced at me. Tears welled in her eyes. I’m sure she was thinking of what she’d done with Blade. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Then she leaned against the counter, tears in her eyes. I rushed to her and gathered her up in my thin arms as she cried against my shoulder.

  “I never wanted to!” she bawled. “I know what you said about him. But he promised me some street dust and I couldn’t—”

  “Shh, I know,” I murmured into her greasy hair. “It was his fault. I know.”

  “I put my addiction in front of my best girlfriend. I’m not ever gonna do that again.” She pulled back and blinked at me. “We gals got to stick together, right?”

  I nodded and hugged her again. “We’ll always stick together. I promise.”