The King and the Courtesan (27 page)

“It’s not real. The shadow men or whatever you think they are
aren’t real
. You’re high. Probably higher than you’ve ever been, and it’s all just a bad trip. So put the gun down, and let me get you help.”
Or let me shoot you and put you out of your misery
.

The hospital door opened. Joel freaked. But instead of putting a bullet in my head, he misfired and the bullet ended up in my side.

It was now eight o’clock in the morning. Yogi slept in the chair by my hospital bed, Kenny drooling on her shoulder. I’d slept for four hours, but while the anesthetics they put me on helped calm me somewhat, I realized I hadn’t had a hit in a while, and I was beginning to get the shakes. I needed out of this hospital before someone noticed it. If no one had already.

Since I’d been bleeding out of my side, I didn’t get to see my sister again while care was administered. The guard had indeed spotted us after that gunshot. I think he got excited because, for once, he actually got to tackle a guy and beat him into submission. Hospital security probably wasn’t that action-packed, but hey, this was Metro. I’d bet security at an old folks’ home could get exciting in this neighborhood. I was admitted to the ER, but they found the bullet missed internal organs and fixed me up rather quickly. They assured me the injury wasn’t too bad—it probably wouldn’t even scar.

Too bad? Clearly they didn’t have a drug-lord “boyfriend” who would murder my bodyguard when he found out Roger hadn’t been there to protect me.

I called Roger when I woke up, because, while they’d taken my clothes, Yogi had taken my phone from my bag and gave it to me when I asked. I didn’t tell him about the bullet wound. Maybe we could all pretend it didn’t happen. Or that it had happened differently than it actually had. Ezekiel wasn’t supposed to be back for another three days, and, by that time, the injury would have at least scabbed over. We would explain that Roger
had
been there, but he’d been inside and hadn’t thought I’d needed an escort for a two-minute breather. Roger was the one to tackle Joel. I’m sure Ezekiel would be angry, but honestly, how could he fault me for being at the hospital where my severely injured sister was being held? I could understand Ezekiel’s anger if Roger and I had just been cruising the streets of Metro—he had expressly wished that I not visit this neighborhood—but I had a legitimate excuse to be here.

Roger told me he was coming to pick me up. I almost told him the truth, because who knew when the hospital would let me go, but I chickened out. Roger would
kill
me. That is, if Ezekiel didn’t first.

Yogi wasn’t allowed to visit Mimi in the ICU because she wasn’t family, but I had a nurse ask around and was told Mimi was doing fine. Because I’d been quickly moved out of the ICU, my visiting rules were less strict, so Yogi kept me company.

One thing was for sure. I was sick of guns. Guns and bullets. If I never saw another one in my whole life, I’d die happy. That is, if I didn’t die in a gun-related incident.

Roger must have been shocked to arrive and realize I was in a hospital room,
not
in the waiting room, and I supposed they’d told him what happened at the desk, because he did
not
look happy when he showed up at the door, scowling.

“What the hell happened?”

Yogi woke with a start, jolting Kenny, who slept on her shoulder. “Huh?”

“Um, hi, Roger.”

Roger glared at me, his fists clenching. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but damn, he sure looked like he wanted to.

“Melissa was shot,” Yogi explained with a yawn. “By Joel. Right outside the hospital.”

“
Shot
? What happened to ‘nothing will happen because I’m in the middle of a waiting room all night’?”

“Look, I didn’t expect a whacked-out Joel to come take revenge on me and Mimi. I went outside for two minutes!”

“You—” Roger jabbed a finger at me, struggling for words. “
Fuck
, Melissa.”

“How’s Bahiya?”

“Don’t change the subject! Do you have
any
idea how much hot water we’re in right now?”

“This doesn’t have to be a big deal. I’ve got it all worked out. We tell the whole truth, except tweak it and assure Ezekiel you were there. You couldn’t have done anything if you had been there. You probably would have let me slip outside for some air—”

“At two o’clock in the morning in Metro? I don’t think so!”

“No one could blame you for not following me out. I was going to stand
right outside the door
for two minutes. I never would have thought Joel would be stupid enough—high enough—to come to the hospital where he put his girlfriend. You can say whatever you want, but you probably wouldn’t have thought anything of it. And it’s not that bad. It didn’t hit anything—”

“Please don’t.” Roger ran his hands over his face wearily. “Please don’t say it could have been worse. It’s a
bullet wound
. In your
side
. Fuck, he’s gonna kill me.” Roger looked over his shoulder, as if expecting to see Ezekiel standing there with a gun in his hand.

“Just think of this as pay back. You took that bullet for me in Goddess. This can be like my bullet for you. Kind of.”
Not really. Oh well
.

Roger leaned over and shook me, instantly sending a shot of pain up my side. But he was too panicked to notice my wince. “Don’t you understand how much trouble we’re going to be in?”

Yogi touched his arm, and Roger let go of me as if I’d been on fire. His hands returned to his face and hair, and I don’t think I’d ever seen him so worried. And he worried a lot.

His anxiety was contagious. I had assumed Ezekiel was too busy to worry about a bullet in his whore’s side, especially when I’d been put in situations like this before. Lately, he hadn’t even been spending much time with me. I was sure I was losing my allure. And even if I wasn’t, this was a perfectly understandable incident. It wasn’t like we were out playing beer pong, drunk and reckless. This had been a freak accident. I was fine. Hell, if I sat still, it didn’t even hurt that bad.

But then doubt slipped in. Who said Ezekiel behaved
logically
? What if this really enraged him? I’d seen the extent of Ezekiel’s wrath. I’d seen him kill people without a flinch. I started shaking again, wishing I could get a hit and quell some of this fear.

“Ezekiel shouldn’t be back for a few more days,” I said softly.

Roger said nothing, still rubbing his face, looking terrified.

“This isn’t your fault, Roger.”

“It’s all my fault!”

“No. It’s not.” I frowned. “You left for a very justifiable reason. Even more, you didn’t leave me alone in a dangerous place. You left me with Yogi, in a crowded hospital. No one could have predicted something would go wrong.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “It won’t matter to Ezekiel. I should have been there.”

“Then we’ll
lie
and say you were there but couldn’t do anything. Hell, even if you’d been standing next to me—right next to me—what could you have done when Joel pointed that gun at me? Nothing. I would have gotten shot, no matter what. But we’ll tell Ezekiel you were at the hospital.”

“He’ll know it’s a lie. He can read people…”

“Then tell the truth! But he should be able to understand that you were only going to your—”

“He won’t understand. He’ll never understand. God.” Roger cradled his face in his hands, clearly at a breakdown point.

Yogi glanced at me, then Roger. She took a step toward him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Roger, dear—”

“We need to go. Now.” Roger shrugged off Yogi’s hand and glared at me.

“Um, but the hospital—”

“We sneak out. If that’s what it takes.”

“I’m not wearing any clothes.”

“We can get some at Ezekiel’s. But we can’t stay here any longer.”

“Roger—”

He ripped off the thin sheet covering my legs. Elbowing Yogi aside, he stood beside me.

“Come on. Get up.”

“I’m sort of in pain—Roger!”

Instead of waiting for me to get up, he put one arm under my knees and the other on my back and picked me up, seemingly without effort. Yogi let out a sound of protest, but Roger ignored her as he carried me to the door.

“Roger, you can’t—”

He set me down roughly at the entrance, probably figuring it would be easier to sneak out if he weren’t carrying me. He pointed to the wheelchair in the corner. When I frowned, he pushed me into it. He turned to Yogi.

“Are her expenses paid for?”

“I told them to put her on the same card as Mimi,” Yogi murmured, keeping her distance from Roger. She seemed slightly frightened of him.

“Do you have any of Melissa’s clothes?”

“No, but I have her phone—”

Roger snatched it out of her claws without another word and pocketed it. I wanted to protest more, but he had already grabbed my wheelchair and yanked me out into the hall.

“What about my sister?” I asked. “And I didn’t even say good-bye to Yogi.”

“I’ll call later to make sure your sister is fine.”

“Why not make sure of that
now
, while I’m here? I haven’t seen her since she was doped up.”

“Melissa, now is
not
the time to be arguing with me.”

“You’re acting crazy!” I hissed.

“That makes both of us.”

“This is kidnapping.”

Roger didn’t seem to care. He wheeled me out the door. The car was parked in the no parking zone. Since I was apparently incapable of walking, Roger picked me up out of the wheelchair and put me in the passenger’s seat a bit too roughly. I winced and clutched my bandaged side as he rounded the car to the driver’s seat. In seconds, we were peeling out of the hospital driveway, my face pressed against the window, hoping that Mimi could survive a few more days without me.

That night was quiet, which I expected, because while a few servants, Roger, and I lived in the penthouse, we weren’t particularly noisy without Ezekiel around. I watched the news, wondering if my encounter with Joel would come on, but a crime had to be big in Metro for the news to talk about it. People had to die. I had taken a hit right after I’d gotten home, but it had worn off about two hours ago, leaving me bored. And since I hated sitting around worrying about what Ezekiel would say about the bandage on my abdomen, I went downstairs to Roger’s room.

I’d only been to his room once before, only to ask if I could go out and get a coffee with him. I’d never stayed to talk. It didn’t feel right, just like standing in Bahiya’s bedroom in his house. Bedrooms always made me nervous unless I was being paid to visit them.

Roger’s room was very plain considering the rest of the penthouse. Since he had a home elsewhere, he hadn’t requested anything fancy. It was basically a hotel room with a bed, a bathroom, and a mini-fridge where he kept snacks. I knocked on the doorframe to alert him of my presence, pulling my silk robe tighter around me. It wasn’t warm, due to its extremely lacking length, but it protected Roger from the sight of my nightie, which I wore every night, despite how a T-shirt and cotton underwear would have been more comfortable. Sometimes Ezekiel came home earlier than planned, and it was expected of me to look presentable when he did.

Roger sat at the small table in the corner, plucking away at his computer. When I knocked, he started, looking scared for a moment. But when he saw it was me, he relaxed slightly.

“Oh. Hi.”

“I stopped by to ask how Bahiya is. You never told me.”

Roger turned to his computer and stared at it. He didn’t answer.

I’d expected a, “Oh, yeah, she’s fine,” because Roger hadn’t said anything about it, and therefore, I assumed nothing was wrong. But his expression at the moment said otherwise.

“Roger?”

“Yeah, she’s not doing so good,” he whispered.

I crossed the room and sat on the side of the bed that was closest to where he sat. “I’m really sorry.”

“The doctors aren’t optimistic. They found more tumors than they expected.”

I stared at Roger a long time, biting my lip. His voice was stiff, his shoulders hunched. He clearly did not want to talk about it, but I felt like I had to say
something
.

“Bahiya’s a strong gal. I’m sure—”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

Roger shook his head. “Please. Don’t say anything to get my hopes up.”

“Roger, you have to get your hopes up. Otherwise, this is going to eat at you and you’ll get depressed and—and…” I trailed off as Roger spun around to stare at me. I swallowed and shut up.

“No. This whole time, I’ve been trying to see the bright side, assuming that some miracle is gonna happen, that this is all going to go away, and it’ll be like it was two years ago. But I’ve got to face this. I’ve got to come to terms with this.” His gaze grew heavier. “Bahiya already has.”

“Come to terms with…what?”

Roger turned, his jaw clenching. “They don’t think she’s gonna make it past three months.” Finally, his inner strength collapsed and he lowered his face into his hands.

“Oh.” What to say to that? An apology sounded stupid—too trivial. I remembered our time spent in the hospital, receiving the news that Mimi would make it. To give him my comfort would sound contrived and condescending. After all, I got to keep my sister. How could I possibly understand?

Oh, Roger
. Tears rose to my eyes, even though I didn’t know Bahiya well. Actually, I wasn’t really crying for Bahiya. I was crying for Roger. He’d done everything in his power—had even worked to protect a drug lord’s whore—to preserve his wife’s life. And in the end, it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

I thought good men like Roger were immune from such a life lesson, but I guess not. Everyone suffered at the hands of life’s little “treasures.”

Roger straightened and inhaled sharply. “I’m sorry, Melissa, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

I nodded. “Of course.” I paused for a moment, still struggling for something to say, something that would help ease the pain. But in the end, nothing came, and I left without saying a word.