The King and the Courtesan (10 page)

“I’m sure Ezekiel will find someone. I was willing to do both jobs, but Ezekiel wants prompt and ample service, so he more often than not hires too many people so he’s never inconvenienced.”

“And what sort of butler knows how to shoot a gun?”

Roger smirked. “I’m a very special kind of butler.”

I ran my finger down the interior leather of the car. At least Roger seemed to be a normal guy, if not a bit uptight. With Ezekiel gone, maybe my life could feel a bit normal.

“So has Ezekiel had any…women other than me at his penthouse?”

Roger sobered instantly. “No, not that I recall.”

“So I guess my presence is kind of unusual.”

“I never thought Ezekiel had the…personality to entertain women. He’s rather…”

“What?” I leaned forward expectantly.

“He only trusts himself. He’s very content in solitude. I don’t understand…”

“Don’t worry. Neither do I. Two days ago, I was a hooker. And now look at me!”

“A hooker?” Roger paled.
Oops. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that
. Still, I never withheld information about myself from people. I was usually pretty open, even about my occupation. I figured there was no point in hiding—people figured you out eventually.

I smiled innocently at him. “I don’t think we should have secrets between us. You’re the only guy I’ve met so far who isn’t tight-lipped and stern-faced. You seem cool.”

“I’m glad I come off as ‘cool’ to you.”

“Hey, while I’m at it, I’m also a drug addict. But don’t worry. I left all my homicidal tendencies at home. At least I don’t smoke or drink, right? Something about the legality of those particular habits turn me off. If I’m gonna go illegal, I wanna go all the way.”

Roger smiled. It was nice to know that I could still be charming and halfway flirtatious. I harbored a small hope that we could become friends.

“You’re going to have to give me an address to type into the navigation system.”

“Oh, cool.” I peered closely at the screen on the dashboard. “How do you work these thingies?”

Roger pushed me back. “Let me handle the technology, all right?”

I told him the address, and he fiddled with the GPS. When we reached downtown, the sidewalks were packed, as were the streets. People going home, probably. Me, on the other hand… I was looking forward to getting another shower, this time bumping it up to
two
showerheads instead of one.

Roger took me to some Metro café first, which was known for its delicious pastries. He appeared relatively pleased with the selection, and I was happy to have shown him at least one place in Metro that wasn’t as dirty and dangerous as the stereotypes claimed. Twenty minutes later, I had a bag full of croissants, cupcakes, slices of cake, apple fritters, and a few other desserts that looked delectable. I nibbled on a cream puff as Roger drove.

It was getting dark by the time I arrived at the barbershop. Only a few women had shown up, but they were the ones that mattered.

Cordelia sat on the counter, struggling to yank down her red latex skirt. When she saw me, she jumped to the floor and ran to me, arms extended and eyes filled with tears.

“Oh dear
God
, you’re safe,” she gasped, clutching me to her. My heels made me so tall that her face was crammed in my small bust. She pulled away, rubbing mascara-stained tears from her cheeks. “I thought you were dead! You went outside and never came back. No one heard from you and I thought…”

“I’m fine,” I assured her. I held up the bags. “I brought snacks.”

Yogi pulled up behind her. “Girl, what the
hell
are you wearing? I hardly recognized you!”

“Here.” I shoved the pastries into Yogi’s arms. “I’ll explain everything. But why don’t you all eat something first?”

A few of the other girls hugged me and expressed their relief at my good health. Cordelia kept bugging me for the story. She looked worse than she had two days ago, thinner. Her hands trembled.

Yogi had brought Kenny with her, her “ward,” as she liked to call him. Kenny had come to her at fifteen, when his desperate and drug-obsessed mother asked Yogi if she would babysit him during the day. Kenny had Down syndrome, and his mentality wavered around that of a fourth grader. Two years ago, his mother killed herself. With nowhere else to put him and still retain a clean conscience, Yogi took him on as a son. Sometimes she brought him to work and let the other women watch him as she went out with customers. Other times she hired a babysitter, which was sometimes me or Cordelia on a night we weren’t working. He was a very sweet boy who was curious about everything. No one respected him here in Metro, save our circle of hookers, and he seemed to know that. He was incredibly shy, so when Roger stepped into the barbershop, Kenny hid behind Yogi.

“Everyone, this is my, um, driver, Roger.”

“Driver?” Cordelia asked.

I explained everything to them. Some responded as Mimi did. They warned me and told me to be careful. They claimed not to trust Ezekiel, even in front of Roger, his employee. A few others seemed jealous, making jokes and winking to express their congratulations. Yogi was wary, and Cordelia…overcome.

“You mean…you mean
anything
?” she asked in disbelief. “He said you could buy anything?”

“Yes.” I took her arms in my hands. “So if you need anything I can pay for with a credit card, tell me, okay? Groceries, clothes, the like. Any of you. I’m here to help.”

“I’m not getting mixed up with Ezekiel,” said Beth, the oldest. At thirty-nine, she was trying to save up enough money for when she couldn’t get a trick because of her age. “I don’t want him to come looking for me.”

A few others nodded apprehensively.

“I’m just saying, if you’re desperate—”

“Thank you for the offer,” Yogi said. She looked into the bag of pastries and drew out a large cinnamon bun before handing it to Kenny. Kenny accepted it with relish and dove in. “These are great, Melissa. Thank you.”

“Would you like anything, Yogi?” I asked. On the surface, my comment meant little. But she knew what I was talking about. She was one of the few who wasn’t on drugs and didn’t need money to fuel her addiction. But I knew how much she hated the body she’d been granted, and I knew how she could never afford the hormones to make her into what she wanted to be, let alone the surgery.

“I think I’m fine right now,” Yogi replied.

I nodded, understanding.

“I know what
you
could do,” Beth told Roger. “You could give me a trick. Hell, why don’t you give me the money for a trick while I do nothing?”

Roger looked away. He seemed nervous and unsure in this neighborhood, so I wondered how he’d ended up in Ezekiel’s employ. Desperation was what led most men and women to work for Ezekiel, but Roger didn’t strike me as a drug addict or a sociopath looking for action.

“We should be going, Melissa,” Roger whispered to me, putting a hand on my arm.

I didn’t know why we had to leave, since Ezekiel was away. But I was too tired to argue, and my presence seemed to make some of my coworkers nervous.

“I’d better get going,” I murmured.

Cordelia hugged me again. “You stay safe, okay?” She took my face in her hands and gazed at me imploringly. “You’re my best girl, right?”

I nodded, fighting back tears.

I left five minutes later, feeling worse than when I’d arrived.

The next day, Ezekiel was back. He wanted me dressed and ready and in his office by ten o’clock, where I assumed he was meeting with someone. I dressed in a silk black number I’d bought the day before and slipped my feet into a pair of staggering heels that I never would have worn before this whole fiasco. I readied myself as well as I could with such short notice, and Roger led me down a hallway I hadn’t explored and through huge double doors to the office on the first floor.

There were four men in the room. Ezekiel was the farthest away, sitting in the largest chair, legs crossed and arms at his sides, the perfect picture of poise and comfort. The other three men were circled around him, all looking nervous despite their efforts to hide it. They were all plump and balding, out of place amongst the modern décor and the rugged good looks of their superior.

I didn’t know what to do. All three men swiveled around to stare at me. Ezekiel was the only one who showed no reaction to my entry.

“Leave, Roger,” he said.

Roger did as he was bid.

“Gentlemen, excuse the intrusion. This is Melissa, my companion.” With a lazy wave of his hand, he invited me to walk toward him. Trying to calm my nerves, I steadied myself on my heels and strode over to him. He patted the armrest of his chair, so I slid up to sit on his right side. I tried my best to appear cool and unaffected like Ezekiel, but I was used to doing my business in the shadows. Facing down older men in suits during a meeting in the middle of the day was so far beyond my experience that I felt heat in my cheeks.

“You were saying?” Ezekiel asked the man to his left, laying one of his hands on my thigh while raising his eyebrows expectantly.

All three men stared at me. I avoided their gazes.

Finally, the addressed spoke. “I was saying that the feds have been closing in on our asses for the past three months. I think it’s about time we make a big switch; start clean. I don’t think we should have our main operation in the city anymore.”

The other two men nodded.

“If you think these are the actions that must be taken, then I suppose we can do little else,” Ezekiel sighed, sinking farther back into his seat and resting his eyes steadily on the man, who couldn’t have made his anxiety more obvious had he tugged at the collar of his tightly buttoned shirt. “But I hate to set flame to the operation. I pumped a lot of money into it.”

“We need a security overhaul. I’m talking new computers, new content management systems, new firewalls,” said another.

“Mr. Gunn, we did exactly that three months ago. I understand technology moves quickly, but I’m not going to throw a few million around every three months because of a feeling. I want proof that it’s needed before we start making extravagant expenditures.”

Mr. Gunn grew defensive. “We can’t afford
proof
. Once our system is breeched, we will get the proof, but by then it will be too late.”

“What I’m interested in,” Ezekiel said firmly, “is focusing more attention on our workforce. I understand the need for secure computer systems, but you can’t blackmail or extort a computer, nor can you offer them a fortune for information. I want to make absolutely sure we have no human leaks. You’ve clearly ignored
my
suggestions on the matter—”

“Of course I haven’t, Ezekiel—”

“Then why are there still leaks?” Now Ezekiel’s arm curled behind me, and he rested his hand on the small of my back. “You men
clearly
don’t understand the human mentality like I do. You can control anyone through fear. Have I not stressed this? Scare someone enough, and all the money in the world won’t matter to them. Now, you
kill
the leaks like I told you to, and you make every goddamn person in that warehouse watch it.” For a moment, his eyes lit up. Then the fire died away and he returned to his usual aloofness. “It’s that simple.”

The men all glanced at each other, then nodded. Ezekiel’s grip on me had gone from casual to possessive, and I tried to quell the fear I felt. I didn’t want him to feel me trembling. In an effort to hide my apprehension, I slipped an arm around his shoulders. A satisfactory smirk slipped across his face and lit up those cold blue eyes.

After a few more minutes of their Q&A session, the men were escorted out of the room by a few of Ezekiel’s forgettable henchmen, all of whom must snack on steroids like candy. They closed the door behind them and I was left in Ezekiel’s office, nearly in the lap of my employer.

Ezekiel stared ahead, completely motionless. I was afraid to say anything, afraid to move.

Ezekiel reached for a glass of wine and sipped at it.

“Want any?” he asked softly.

I shook my head. “I’m all right.”

“Not much of a drinker?” His gaze rose to meet mine, but his head didn’t move.

“I enjoy more dangerous addictions.”

A smirk crawled up his lips. “Of course. Now, stand. I’m getting up.”

I scrambled off his chair, and he stretched himself to his full height. Everything was buttoned and tucked in his outfit, not a lace or string out of its place. His shoes were shined, his suit pressed to perfection. If he stood still, he could pass as a wax figure. Of course, his eyes would ruin that illusion. They were anything but glassy and dead.

Ezekiel drained his glass of wine and set it down on the stand by his chair. “Well, then, Melissa. Roger has informed me that he took you shopping.”

I nodded apprehensively. Roger must have already told him about my excursions thus far. All of my trips had been rather innocuous, so I hadn’t expected them to be of interest to a man like Ezekiel.

“I hope you amused yourself,” Ezekiel said. “Women like that, right? Shopping?”

“Um, well…” Personally, I wasn’t a huge fan, as I’d spent most of my life
avoiding
spending money. Some habits were hard to break. But I imagined Ezekiel didn’t care about the real answer, so I told him what he wanted to hear. “Yes. I had fun.”

“Good. I should send Rosa with you at some point. I trust her, seeing as she cleaned you up so well. She has a good eye for class.”

I could only nod. I didn’t know what to say.

“Would you like that?” he asked, turning his head and gazing at me.

“Yes. I like Rosa.”

“Excellent.” He pondered a moment. “You also took a stop at Metro, is that correct? Several stops, in fact.”

I gulped, bowed my head, and clasped my hands tightly in front of me. “Yes,” I whispered.

“Hmm.”

“I wanted to tell my sister what I was doing. She worries about me.”

“Of course.”

“And—well, I didn’t want my friends from work to worry, either. So I bought them some things from the bakery and—I told them that I was okay.”