The King and the Courtesan (23 page)

“Should I call you schnookums?”

I snorted and hit his arm. “Do it and
die
.”

Roger puckered his lips at me and made obnoxious kissing sounds. I burst out laughing and hit him again.

“Actually, I picked up the ‘hon’ thing from a coworker named Yogi. She calls everyone sweetheart and honey.”

“Yogi? That’s an, uh, interesting name.”

“I don’t think it’s her real one. But it’s an improvement on
Marvin
, which was what we used to call her back before…” I waved my hand dismissively. “Seriously though, Marvin is a terrible name.”

“Wait, why would she be… Oh.” Roger’s face went blank. “She some kind of drag queen or something?”

I winced, imagining Yogi’s reaction to the comparison. “No, she’s trans.”

“Oh.” Roger still appeared confused, so I patted his shoulder.

“Don’t think too hard about it.”

“You must know some interesting people.”

“I’m an interesting person. I think
you’re
interesting. You’re just wound too tight. Can you at least take off your jacket when we go to the Park? You look like you’re in the secret service. Half the crowd is gonna scatter if that’s what they assume.”

“Meaning what? They’re all in trouble with the law?”

“No, but I’m sure they all know someone who is.”

“Oh.”

“It’s
fine
. Most of them just party a little too loud on the weekends. Or they do the really mild drugs. Either way, don’t worry. I used to go there with my mom when I was ten.” At mentioning my mom, a sudden weight dropped on me and I fell silent, which seemed to provoke Roger’s curiosity.

“You’ve never talked about her before.”

“She’s dead.” Talk about her putting a damper on any conversation. Not just a damper—a huge, sopping wet rag.

“I’m sorry.”

I shrugged. “Shit happens.”

There was a long silence. I knew Roger wanted to ask, but he was too polite. I answered his question for him. “She, uh, was dating this guy.” I rubbed my lips together, trying to keep my voice as unaffected as possible. “You know how it goes—he’s charming and sweet at first, and then he gets jealous and controlling. She was so scared of leaving him because she thought he’d kill her. But she knew she owed it to Mimi and me, so she got out when I was seventeen. I went out to get groceries, and when I came back…” I shrugged, looking away. “Turns out she wasn’t just paranoid.”

“That’s—that’s horrible. I’m sorry. Is he in jail?”

“Yeah. I don’t think I’d stay in the city if I knew he was still out and wandering around.”

“Were you close to your mother?”

“As a kid, of course. Now that she’s gone, I can see she did her best, though I resented her to the point of hating her as a teenager. I acted out a lot because it felt like I was getting back at her. Honestly, sometimes I get the same way with Mimi, probably because she acts like my mother.”

There was a short silence as Roger digested all of this. I realized I probably shouldn’t have told him so much. What if he told Ezekiel? I wasn’t sure how the information could be used against me, but if anyone could do it, it would be my employer.

I reached forward and turned on the radio. “What kind of music do you like?”

Roger eyed me for a bit, alarmed by the subject change, but eventually he answered, “I’m not much of a music person.”

“
What
? Are you nuts? Let’s—aha, here we go.” R.R. Zone, who was the latest rapper of choice, filled the car. The first words caught were,

Roger turned it off with a frown while I laughed.

“You don’t like
R.R. Zoooooone
?” I drawled in my most exaggerated Metro accent. “What’s with you,
boy
?”

“I prefer something that actually requires talent.”

“Like what?”

“I like classic rock.”

“I pegged you as a classic rock guy the moment I met you. Who do you like?”

“The Smoke Dogs—”

“How
old
are you, Roger? The
Smoke Dogs
? Aren’t they, like,
eighty
?”

“No. They’re sixty, at most.”

I started laughing. Roger looked pissed for a few seconds, but then he rolled his eyes and turned back to the road.

“The Smoke Dogs never get old. Their music is
timeless
.”

“Only old guys say that about the Smoke Dogs.”

“I’m not old!”

“You sure act like it. Okay, so R.R. Zone is too cool for you. Anything more modern you like?”

Roger thought for a long moment, then shrugged. “Pawz is okay.”

“Pawz?”

“Yeah. Haven’t you heard of them?”

“Nope.”

“They’re an alternative rock group. It’s good stuff. And it’s kind of trendy I guess. They have an electric violin.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I hear some?”

“I don’t have any with me, but I’ll let you listen to some when we get back home, okay?”

“All right.” I smiled softly. “See? We’re sharing music. That practically makes us
favies
.”

“Favies?”

“Metro-speak for best friends.”

Roger raised his eyebrows.

“I’m gonna school you on Metro speak.” I dropped back into the accent. “You’ll be surprised at all our
skinky
words.”

“What?”

I elbowed him and laughed. “I’m gonna turn you into a cool roller, you just wait.”

“What’s a roller?”

“A skinky, favie roller.”

“Melissa!”

I ruffled his hair. We settled on a rock station that pleased both of us as I gave him directions to South Metro.

The Park brought back so many memories. I hadn’t been there since I was sixteen, mostly because none of my friends were ever interested. But I still remembered the cheese fries, as well as the sense of community. The Park was the only place that made me feel proud of my neighborhood. Some of the most amazing people came out of the cracks in the concrete. Once, a flame-thrower showed up; another time, a guy with a monkey. For some reason, the Park brought out the best in people. Hell, even the graffiti was beautiful, completely coating the west wall in brightly colored fish and bold patterns.

You could hear the music three blocks away. Parking was hard to find, especially when Roger wanted a space where his car wouldn’t get dinged up. He put a lock on the steering wheel, just in case.

“I don’t like parking a nice car like this here,” he muttered as we got out.

“It’s the middle of the day, Roger. Chill out.” To his surprise, I laced my arm through his and smiled up at him. “When was the last time you had fun?”

“Can’t we have fun in a
nice
neighborhood?”

“But where’s the adventure in that?” I winked and quickened my pace. “Come on. I’m in four-inch heels and I’m still walking faster than you.”

The Park was truly enormous. Fifty years ago, it had been a steel factory, and the houses around it were cookie-cutter tenements. Now most of these houses were run down or bulldozed, and the warehouse was empty of anything steel-related. The original windows were mostly gone, leaving gaping frames. The lot around it was bare soil, though someone had erected a makeshift playing field. A few little kids were kicking a ball around, watched over by a mother seated on an old tire, reading the newspaper. A cigarette dangled from her hot red lips as she stretched one shoeless foot out in front of her. Roger gave me a look. I smiled.

On a day like this, the Park was guaranteed to be packed. Roger and I had to squeeze through the front door, knocking elbows with a few shady looking characters on our way in. Roger was obviously nervous, reaching for the gun under his jacket a few times before I sent him a glare.

“Don’t shoot anyone,
please
,” I pleaded.

“I’m not going to shoot anyone unless they fire first.”

I rolled my eyes.

The smell of fried food hit me, and I grinned. The warehouse stretched out for an entire block and a half, with rafters hung with streamers and old shoes thrown up there decades ago. Someone had constructed a small lookout, but I never trusted anything built in this place. It wasn’t like they hired reliable engineers. Not only was the sound of conversation and blasting punk music overwhelming, but it was also joined by the
zzzzzzt-clink
of skateboards on ramps. There were at least six different half-pipes in this place, each one bigger than the last. The crowd was eclectic. Some girls wore Lycra mini-skirts while others were barely distinguishable from the boys in their backward caps and baggy jeans. Some guys had gold teeth and shaved heads, while others sported Mohawks and spiked wristbands. Everyone got along anyway, and that’s all that really mattered.

A few people turned to stare at Roger in his suit and tie, and then at me in my classy gray dress, but they just shrugged and went back to their conversation. That’s what I loved about this place. People looked and went on their way. No one was searching for your wallet here.

I grabbed Roger’s arm and pulled him through the crowd, closer to the half-pipes. I found a smoothie vendor along the way, and asked Roger for a twenty.

“Can’t you pay for it?” he asked.

“I only have a credit card.” Probably so Ezekiel could keep track of all my spending. “And they don’t take credit here. Obviously. It’s not very high tech.”

Roger forked over a twenty, and I got us both smoothies and some change. Judging by the expression on his face, Roger expected sludge from the gutter. When he tasted it and his brow relaxed, I laughed.

“It’s good, isn’t it?”

“Actually, yes, it is. What flavor is this again?”

“Blueberry. Let’s go watch some skaters. Maybe someone can teach you a trick.”

“Yeah right. Sorry, but I’m not much into skateboarding.”

“But you have no problem kicking ass in other ways.”

“My feet belong planted on the ground.”

“Yeah, okay, Mr. Tough Guy.”

Roger stopped at the first half-pipe, but I kept pulling him.

“Let’s go to the biggest one,” I cajoled, grinning. “That’s where the magic happens.”

“Or suicide.”

“Good, cuz that’s its name.”

“Are you serious?”

“Of course!”

Roger didn’t seem to know whether or not to believe me, but for once, I was telling the truth. I usually went straight to Suicide because of the talent it drew, and the crashes weren’t too bad, either. No one ever died, as far as I knew, though some people left in an ambulance. That didn’t stop many of the skate rats from trying it out. Right now a girl with a blue Mohawk was zipping back and forth, performing tricks that had the crowd pumping their fists and yelling.

Roger took a long slurp from his smoothie. “You keep surprising me, Melissa.”

“Huh?”

“I never would have taken you for a person who liked to watch skateboarding.” He raised his eyebrows.

“Well, you learned something new today.”

“Well, that and ‘skinky.’ What does it mean again?”

“Normally means cool. Sometimes it can mean sexy, if the context is right.”

“Oh.” He paused a moment, then elbowed me playfully. “You’re
skinky
, Melissa.”

“You too,
Rogah
.”

We both laughed.

The girl finally got off her board at the far end and with one last “Hell yeah!”, climbed down. A tall, skinny guy with spiky, dark hair and a small goatee took her place. He was much older than her, probably nearing thirty, but that didn’t stop his sense of style, a checkered T-shirt and bright yellow pants. Everyone made a racket when they saw him, so he had to be a big deal.

He wasted no time jumping on his board and rolling down the ramp. His tricks started simple, then increased in dexterity. I didn’t know the names of the tricks, or anything about the sport really, but he looked pretty damn good to me. Some girl next to me nearly pushed me over as she jumped around and screamed.

Another song began, this one’s bass so pronounced that I could feel it in my ribs. This got the crowd bouncing, their arms swinging. Roger looked alarmed, but I just smiled at him and pumped my arms over my head, bumping him with my hip to get him started. He shook his head, blushing slightly.

“Come on, Roger. Where’s your inner diva?”

“I think she’s out for a bathroom break,” he called over the music.

“I think you can dance. You’re just shy.”

“I only dance if I’m drunk.”

“Roger—”

The music suddenly quieted, and moments later, the crowd let out a long “oohh!” Roger and I looked toward the point of interest. The skater guy had crashed. Everyone stood around and stared, making no efforts to help him.

I pushed back a few people, Roger forgotten. The skater lay on his back in the middle of the half-pipe, arms and legs splayed flat. I assumed he was alive because his limbs still twitched.

I don’t know
why
I approached, but I guess I felt obligated, since no one else seemed interested in helping him. Everyone stared at me as I clambered onto the half-pipe in my heels and mini-dress. I was about to lean down next to him, but paused when his eyes fluttered open and stared straight up at me.

“Am I…
dead
?” he asked softly.

I smiled down at him. “You wish.”

He groaned. I leaned down next to him to help him up.

“Are you all right?” I asked when he winced and shied away from my touch.

“Yeah, but—ouch. I’m getting too old for this.”

“Never too old to hurt yourself.”

When he finally got his torso vertical, the crowd let out a cheer and the music turned up again. Everyone danced as if nothing had happened. I’d lost sight of Roger, but I knew he was close by.

“You aren’t nauseous? Dizzy?”

“No, Nurse, I’m fine.” He winced again. “Just old. Don’t bounce back as well as I used to.”

“And you’re sure you’re—”

“Fine? I hope so. Was that purple dinosaur always standing there?”

I stared at him for a moment.

He flinched and smirked. “Okay, bad joke. I get it.”