The King and the Courtesan (26 page)

“It’s Bahiya.”

Wait a minute.
What
?

Roger let out a humorless chuckle. “Man, this must be a bad day for hospitals.”

“How is she?” I asked.

“She collapsed.” He stared emotionlessly at his phone, as if waiting for it to answer. “They’re operating tonight.”

“Oh God.” What were the chances? This was really ridiculous.

“I…” Roger was torn, staring at the exit and then glancing back at me. I instantly understood his dilemma.

“Go,” I ordered, putting a hand on his arm.

“No.” He shook his head sharply. “I can’t leave you here—”

“Are you honestly putting me above your
wife
?”

“But Ezekiel—”

“—doesn’t have to know. I won’t tell. I promise.”

“But—”

“
Go
,” I insisted, pushing him toward the exit. “I’ll be fine. All I’m going to be doing tonight is hanging out here in the hospital. Yogi is with me. I’m safe.”

“I should take you home.”

“No. I’m staying here with my sister.”

Roger really did look scared, but I blamed that on the fact that his wife was in peril. He glanced at the door again.

“Please, Roger. Just go. Bahiya needs you there for her.”

Yogi stood beside me, nodding. Roger clenched his eyes shut a moment, still stuck in limbo. Finally, he gave a tiny nod.

“Okay.” He grabbed my bag. “You have my number, right? If
anything
goes wrong, anything at all, you call me. I’ll be here as fast as I can drive. Please call me if you’re in danger, any at all.”

“Roger. I’m in the middle of the ER. What is going to happen to me?”

“Promise me.”

“Okay, fine. I promise.”

He dropped a hand on my shoulder, indecisive. I patted the hand grasping me, trying to soothe him.

“I hope she’s fine,” I whispered.

He nodded and then moved away, his pace hurried. He threw one last look at me before he rushed through the glass doors and out into the night.

* * *

“I’m sorry I made you miss work.”

Yogi and I both stood in front of the bathroom mirror, desperate to have
something
to do while we waited for news on Mimi. I looked like a mess, so I decided to take off all my makeup. Yogi had a comb in her purse that I ran through my hair. She also provided a wet wipe for the streaks of mascara running down my cheeks.

“It’s all right. I’m going to quit soon anyway.”

I turned to her, stunned. “What?”

Yogi inhaled sharply and grasped the counter. “I’ve been offered a full-time position elsewhere.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know Thomas?”

“Of course. The guy showed up once a week like clockwork. He’s the nice one.”

At this, Yogi smiled. “Yes. He has always been very nice to me.”

A customer is a customer
. But Thomas had been around as long as I had. He’d never bartered on the price, never skimped, never said a bad word about any of us. He was the perfect customer. Nothing kinky, always polite. And as far as we knew, Thomas saw no one else. The girls teased Yogi, calling them “married.” And while I never thought too highly of
any
customer, Thomas seemed like a decent guy, if not a little boring. He was about fifty, balding, chubby around the middle, and an accountant. So he wasn’t exactly Prince Charming, but he was a respectable guy, and I had to admit, women like Yogi weren’t so easy to find. Maybe he paid for Yogi because there was no one offering it for free.

“So what does this mean?”

“He has a daughter who also has Down syndrome.”

“
Really
?”

“Yes. He said that I could move in with him. He’ll take care of everything. All I have to do is look after his daughter—and Kenny, of course.”

“And do the usual.”

“I would assume, yes. I figure it’ll be like being married.” Her voice hitched. “And do you know what else he promised?”

I raised my eyebrows.

“Hormones,” Yogi whispered ecstatically.

“Really?”

She nodded, clearly excited.

“Wow. That’s great, Yogi. I’m really happy for you. Though…a lot of times, these deals don’t work out.” I didn’t want to rain on her parade, but it was usually the truth.

“I know. I don’t have incredibly high hopes. But Thomas strikes me as a man of his word. Plus he’s very laid-back. He really does like me, Melissa. He’s kept coming back for years. And he’s very kind to Kenny, which is important to me.”

It seemed like the perfect match. Yogi wasn’t a romantic, and I knew she wasn’t in love with Thomas—not in the least. This was just another business deal for her. But just because it was business didn’t mean it wasn’t
good
business. This would give her a chance to get off the streets and into a home where she would be appreciated. I’d always felt like Yogi was too good for Metro…for us. She had only ended up in Metro because she’d been chased out of her own comfortable, middle-class home at fourteen. She’d resorted to prostitution out of necessity, and she’d never been involved in drugs. Actually, Yogi was probably the reason I never went to a pimp. It would have been easy, getting with Jazzy, the pimp who approached me when I was sixteen. But before I could agree to it, I met Yogi through a neighbor. She suggested the little co-op at the barbershop, where there were no pimps to watch you pick up tricks in an alley and make sure you filled your quota. You worked as much or as little as you wanted, the money was
yours
, and since most business was conducted close to the other women, you were in little danger. That didn’t mean there wasn’t risk—any job in Metro came with risk—but I honestly think Yogi saved me from a helluva lot of suffering and pain. Which was why Cordelia’s situation alarmed me. She had problems with quotas, and a pimp would kill her once he found that out.

“I’m getting older, too,” Yogi muttered. “Who knows how long I’ll be able to keep up this business.”

I snorted. “You’re twenty-seven, Yogi. That’s not old.”

Yogi sighed heavily. “And you? How has this deal been working out for you?”

I shrugged. “There’s danger, but I don’t know. It’s not too bad. Ezekiel’s gone most of the time, so I kind of just hang out with Roger and buy nice dresses with Ezekiel’s credit card.”

“You aren’t fooling around with Rog—”

“No!” I objected heatedly. “He’s got a wife. And Ezekiel would murder him. And I don’t see him like that.”

“He’s quite a looker.”

“He’s my
bodyguard
, Yogi. Nothing else. God, why do I have to explain that to
everyone
? Do I look love-struck or something?”

“Of course not.” Yogi sniffed. “It’s just that he seems like a very nice man, and any girl would be crazy
not
to jump his bones.”

I elbowed Yogi with as much of a smile as I could muster at the moment. “Stop it. Don’t be getting ideas. He’s married.”

Yogi rolled her eyes. “Not for
me
. I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to chasing pretty faces.”

As far as I knew, Yogi had no real romantic interests, but I hadn’t known her for more than a few years. It was hard to picture her falling in love—she was so pragmatic about everything—even though she was a very loving person. She handed out love to Kenny and her girls—but never to a man.

“We’d best get back to the waiting room.”

Yogi and I returned to the waiting room. Kenny was still where she’d left him, reading a children’s book with a look of pure concentration. Yogi sat beside him and began petting his hair. He curled against her with a satisfied sigh. I returned to my worrying, pacing the waiting room when I wasn’t fiddling in my seat.

“Melissa Thatcher?” came a call from the desk. I rocketed from my seat and approached as fast as I could in my heels.

“Yes?” I asked the doctor standing there. She looked haggard and overworked, but she did try to give me a semblance of a smile, which I wasn’t sure I appreciated.

“You’re Mimi Thatcher’s sister, correct?”

“Yes.”

The doctor nodded and looked down at her clipboard. “Well, the good news is that your sister will pull through. She’s had rather severe head trauma and a few broken bones, along with some internal bleeding, but it seems to be under control at the moment. From what we can see, there doesn’t seem to be any sense or movement impairment, but it may be too soon to tell the true extent of her injuries. She’s heavily sedated right now, but you’re allowed to see her. Briefly, please. You have five minutes.”

I nodded and didn’t bother arguing. I followed the doctor down the hall of the ER, waving to Yogi before I vanished behind the swinging doors.

The doctor showed me into a tiny room without windows. On the bed in the center lay my sister. At least, I
thought
she was my sister. The hair on the pillow was hers, but as for everything else, I couldn’t begin to recognize her.

Her entire face was either swollen, bruised, or bandaged. There was heavy padding wrapped around her head. Her left arm was in a cast, as were a few fingers.
God, did he beat her with a tire iron and then shove her off a bridge?
A sob caught in my throat, and I rushed to her, throwing myself into the seat beside her. I took the hand that wasn’t bandaged.

“Mimi?” I whispered.

One eye—the other looked like it couldn’t open—fluttered. God, she looked horrible. I was torn between wanting to cry and wanting to throw a chair at Joel out of anger. I’d always known he’d been a dick, but he’d never done more than slap Mimi here or there. What had driven him crazy? Even if he was into something more hardcore, it couldn’t have been street dust. Street dust didn’t make people violent. It had to be something else, something much stronger.

“Mimi?” I asked again, squeezing her hand lightly.

“Melissa?” Her voice cracked. I noticed she was missing one of her bottom teeth. “Is that you?”

“Yeah. I’m here.” I tried smiling through the tears that rose in my eyes.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you on the phone,” she murmured. She sounded very out of it indeed, but I was glad she was loopy instead of in pain.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m just worried about you.”

“You’re worried about me?” I laughed lightly, then pressed my lips together to keep from sobbing. “Look at
you
.”

“Where’s Joel?”

“In hell, I hope.”

“Melissa, I…”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Now I was definitely crying. I squeezed her hand harder, hoping that it wasn’t hurting her to do so. I kissed her knuckles, then lightly, her forehead. “I love you, too, Mimi.”

A nurse stepped in. “I’m afraid you’ll have to return to the waiting room, miss.”

I didn’t bother arguing, because I felt like it might upset Mimi. “Okay.” I stood, but leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be back, okay? I’m here for you. Always.”

But Mimi was already asleep, which made it easier to leave. I released her hand and returned to the waiting room.

* * *

Cops probably should have interrogated me, but this was Metro, and the few cops we had were always busy investigating more important things, like kids killed by drug dealers when they couldn’t pay up. It didn’t really matter, though, because I knew who did it and I knew exactly what was going to happen to him. If I had my way, that is.

I didn’t even have to go looking for Joel. He showed up at the hospital around two in the morning.

The hospital smell was making me sick. I told Yogi I had to go outside for a few minutes because I was going to vomit. Yogi promised to tell me if they called me, so I stumbled outside, taking in deep gulps of summer Metro air. It was dirtier than the hospital air, but at least it didn’t carry the scent of antibacterial soap and latex.

“Melissa?”

I froze at the sound of his voice. And before I could move, his hand clamped down on my arm. I almost slapped him, as I had done before when he got too grabby, but then something cold pressed against my side. My heart nearly stuttered to a stop.

“Joel,” I said slowly. “Put the gun down, please.”

“It’s all your fault,” he hissed. And I knew. He was
still
on something, something that didn’t wear off in a few hours.

Blue Kitten, perhaps
? That was what Broderick had been talking about in Goddess. Ezekiel had expressed disdain for it, claiming it was the new “super drug” that was killing off customers faster than they could be made. And while I’d never hung around anyone on Blue Kitten, I’d heard the rumors of what it did. Hallucinations. Extreme paranoia. Violent tendencies. And the high lasted all day. It burned neurons like firewood. Overdose was exceedingly easy, and even those who were careful ended up with health issues, either from contaminates in the drug or from the drug itself. No wonder Ezekiel didn’t like it.

“Put down the gun.”

“I killed her!”

“No, Mimi’s alive. Joel, please. Just put the gun down.”

“She’s not alive because I killed her. I
killed
the woman I loved, and now I’m gonna kill you.”

I wanted to snap at him like I usually did, but his finger quivered on the trigger.

“You need help. Just put the gun down, and I’ll get you help.” My eyes crept toward the hospital entrance. I noticed a security guard standing near the front desk. It was too dark for him to see us, but if I could just get Joel screaming or firing the gun in the air, we’d gain notice.

I turned back to Joel and spotted tears trickling down his face, his pupils blown wide. Sweat dribbled down his top lip, along with a trail of snot. I almost felt bad for the bastard.

“They’re gonna come for me. They’re gonna strangle me, and I’m not goin’ without you.”

“Who’s coming for you, Joel? The police? Probably. But they’ll lock you up where you can’t hurt yourself or another person ever again.”

“Not the police.
Them
.” His lips quivered around the last word.

“Them?” If I could just keep him talking until someone noticed… “Who is ‘them?’”

“The
shadow men
,” Joel whispered in terror. “And they’ll come for me if I don’t blow your bitch head off.”