The King and the Courtesan (2 page)

“Hi,” I said.

“You come up here to apologize to me?” he asked, fumbling for a cigarette in his pocket. “Cuz if you didn’t, don’t waste my time.”

I pushed my pride down—deep, deep down. I was used to doing that. Pride was useless to me. I had to beg for and cling to whatever good things came my way. That was the Metro way of life. We
perfected
it in this town. I didn’t particularly care for Blade, but he catered to what I needed most and “dating” him seemed like the best way to get it. I knew he slept around with other women. I knew he was a worthless sack of shit that made Metro more miserable for everyone. I knew he got people killed. But it was hard to care when
caring
required energy I didn’t have.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” he asked, narrowed, dark eyes watching me carefully. He liked to draw things out as long as possible. He loved to watch me squirm, loved to feel powerful and dominating, loved to feel like
the man
.

“For being a bitch,” I said to the floor. It was the answer he’d probably want.

Blade lit his cigarette and sucked on it. “You lasted longer this time. You couldn’t even make it a day before.”

I didn’t say anything. Blade treasured nothing more than a silent woman. He taught me that early on with the back of his hand.

“I guess I can take your skinny ass back,” Blade said. “As much as I hate the fights, I do enjoy watching you show up at my door like this.” He bared his teeth in a smile.

If I’d had more self-respect, I would have hated him for the way he treated me. But at this point, I didn’t give a shit. I’d been treated worse by clients. So I took all his crap. He got me what I needed for cheap.

“I’ve got to go down to the dock and make sure my messenger boy doesn’t fuck up his first day of work. You stay here and do something useful. Clean up or cook. Though I know you can’t cook worth shit. And when I come back, you better be ready to swallow more than your pride.”

I grasped the doorframe and nodded. Blade brushed past me without so much as a glance back. He only looked back when he was at the door.

“And Melissa? Don’t you wear them damn sneakers and jeans around this place. They look like shit. No girl of mine is going to walk around looking like a mechanic.”

“I didn’t bring any other clothes,” I replied weakly.

“There should be a dress in my closet. It ain’t yours, but you can wear it anyway. And if it don’t fit…” He shrugged. “Then go naked.”

He closed the door behind him, shutting me in the apartment alone.

Late that night, I lay in Blade’s bed, staring up at the ceiling. Blade was on his phone, per usual. He had no reverence for common calling hours. I didn’t complain, of course, but I wanted to. Every time we had sex, he refused to touch me afterward. He’d roll out of bed, flip open his cellphone, and call another inferior so he could yell at him. He’d stand there naked, shouting like he had to prove something to me.

There was a knock on the door, and Blade swore. He grabbed the dress I’d borrowed from him and threw it at me.

“Put this on.”

Then he left to answer the door. I slipped into the dress. It was too big around the bust and hips and was meant for someone much shorter. If I even bent over slightly, someone was going to get mooned. I shoved my feet into the pair of low heels I’d left at Blade’s place two weeks ago.

Blade tossed open the door. One moment he was all bravado, and in the next he wilted, shoulders drooping and head bowing. I stepped slowly into the living room, where Blade backed up to let his guest in.

The guest definitely wasn’t your typical Metro type. In fact, he looked like he’d come from a meeting as the CEO of some bank. He was tall and broad, wearing a suit so dark it was like a silhouette, his hair carefully parted on the side. He reminded me of a movie star—but a movie star smiled, tilted his head toward the camera, gestured for the paparazzi, and seemed human. There was something predatory—but mechanical—about the way this man moved, his face blank, frozen blue eyes watching Blade with about as much respect as one gave a cockroach in a tub. It made no sense to be more scared of this man than Blade—this man who had no tattoos or piercings or missing teeth. Perhaps to people more accustomed to seeing money, this would be odd. But here in Metro, there was no money. And people with money scared me.

This man scared me.

“Hello, Blade,” he said in a clipped voice.

Two burly men in suits squeezed into the apartment behind him. Their faces were expressionless, their eyes staring straight forward. They looked too big for the apartment, too big for their suits.

“Aren’t you going to offer me something to drink?” the man asked, turning to Blade.

“A—Oh. Right. What would you like?”

“Water would be fine.”

Blade whipped around and snarled at me. “You heard the man. Get him some water.”

I jumped and rushed toward the kitchen. I could still eavesdrop, as the kitchen and the living room were only separated by a counter.

“You owe me money,” the man said.

“Yeah, I got it. No worries. It’s all in my car.”

“Your car?”

“Yeah. In case…well, if I wanted to make a quick getaway. The cops come crawling through here every now and then, you know…”

“Very well. Bruce, Garrett, escort him down to his car. I will wait here. It will only be five minutes, right?”

“Ri-right, sir. Of course.”

Blade left with Bruce and Garrett, leaving me in the apartment alone with the newcomer.

I didn’t realize that my hands were shaking. I put a few glasses of water on a tray and stepped back into the living room. The man had sat down on the tired, old couch and crossed his legs. He stared coolly at the wall across from him, resting his hands in his lap.

The tray clunked onto the coffee table louder than I expected, and I winced. The man looked over at me, raising his eyebrows.

“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.

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.