The King and the Courtesan (3 page)

I didn’t feel like going out tonight, so I locked myself in my room, clamped my headphones over my ears, and shot up street dust, my drug of choice. Then I lay in my bed and stared at my ceiling. Colors swirled and the music became so beautiful that I cried. I wept hard enough that snot ran down my upper lip. The ceiling seemed to grow and bulge like an overfilled balloon moments before popping. The water stains turned dark, crawling like sharp fingers toward me. I whimpered and held myself tight in a fetal position as the ceiling began to throb like a swollen wound. The music dipped and swirled, then exploded. I swore I heard the walls crack, and I covered my head, expecting to be bombarded by debris. When the ceiling finally burst open, a million insects rained down—insects with a thousand legs, beady red eyes, and gnashing yellow teeth.

When I wound down, I was shaking so violently that I fell out of bed. I stayed on the floor, clutching my legs and squeezing my forehead against my knees. Sweat made my tight grip slip. I felt too exposed on the hardwood floor and slithered under the bed. There I stayed, unable to fall asleep and unable to dispel the image of the insect mob, waiting in the ceiling so that it could eat me alive.

* * *

I didn’t sleep much but I eventually rolled out from underneath my bed in the morning, feeling weak and temperamental. I grabbed some eggs from the refrigerator and threw them in a dirty pan that had been used to make scrambled eggs the morning before. I held my head in one hand while I tapped my nails against the stovetop with the other.

Joel came into the kitchen, stretching his arms above his head to reveal the line of dark hair that sprouted from his navel and crawled into his boxers. Then he tugged his tank top back down and hitched up his pants.

“Good morning,” he said.

“Where’s Mimi?” I asked, refusing to look at him.

“Work. You know her shifts starts at nine.”

I glanced at the clock. Damnit. Ten? I could have sworn it was eight last time I checked.

I turned back to the eggs.

“So…two eggs. Is one for me?”

“No.”

“Since when can a little thing like you eat two eggs?”

“I’m not little.”

“Okay, you’re tall. But not wide. Your stomach’s gotta be half the size of mine. Why don’t you give me those two eggs, hmm? A man needs a healthy breakfast.”

“These are the only two eggs left, and I’m not giving them to you.”

“Not even one?”

“No.” I finally glared at him. “I’m hungry and I feel like shit. Back off.”

“Come on, Giraffe. Don’t be this way.” He inched closer and I took a step back, keeping my hand on the handle of the frying pan.

“Don’t call me Giraffe.”

He gazed at me a long time, then sighed. “Look, I kind of need those eggs. I start work in forty-five minutes. I don’t got time for anything else. But you! What do you do during the day? You go to your boyfriend’s and chill out in front of his big screen TV. I’m sure he has plenty of eggs for you to eat.”

I kept my mouth shut.

“Melissa, come on.”

“There’s other stuff to eat. Cereal, for one.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“
I
got up first,
I
found the eggs, and
I’m
cooking them. First come, first serve. Now back off.”

Joel leaned against the counter. I hated him. I hated his skinny arms, hated that four-day beard, hated those narrow hazel eyes that never took me seriously. I hated those thick lips, hated them before I even knew why I should hate them. Mimi always had sleazy boyfriends, but she hated it when I told her that, so I stopped.

“Someone’s pretty ornery,” he said. “What side of the bed did you get up on?”

I had spent the night curled up under my bed. I didn’t tell him that.

“Come on, Melissa. This argument is getting old. Give me the damn eggs.”

“You can push Mimi around all you want, but I owe you nothing, and
I
will eat the eggs.”

And I guess that was all it took to send him over the top. Before I could even think of escape, a meaty hand wrapped around my throat, spun me around, and slammed my back against the refrigerator. I hissed in pain. The hold wasn’t strong enough to suffocate me, but the press of his fingers was as constricting as it was impenetrable. I wrapped my longer fingers around his wrist and tugged, to no success.

“You’ve sure got a nasty attitude for someone so breakable,” he spat in my face. “I guess that’s how you’re different than Mimi. Someone taught her manners. Whoever did skipped you.”

“Let go of me,” I gasped, wriggling in hopes of loosening his grasp. He put an end to that by shoving his hips against mine, pinning me completely between him and the wall.

“And you sure seem high and mighty for a whore,” he said, his nose inches from mine. I could smell his morning breath, and I tried not to wince.

“Asshole,” I choked. “Let me
go
!”

Joel glared at me a few seconds, at least until I was able to slap him across the face. For a moment, he was stunned, but then he roared and tightened his grip on my windpipe.

“Who do you think you are, huh? I could snap your neck in three seconds. You’re not brave. You’re stupid.”

“Guess we have something in common,” I wheezed.

His free hand grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the freezer door. Stars sparkled and bright colored spots flitted in the corners of my vision. Before I could fully regain awareness, I felt his fingers leave my hair and enter down the front of my pants.

Now
I was pissed. If he handed me a few twenties, he could touch me all he wanted. But
never
for free, and
never
under the impression that he controlled the situation. I tried slapping him again, but he avoided the blow and pushed his hand against my throat a little tighter while the other dug farther into my underwear.

“A dirty whore,” he whispered in my ear. “That’s all you are.”

With the last of my remaining strength, I swung my knee up as hard as I could and nailed him in the groin. He gasped and stumbled away, his hands reaching for his most tender region. I slapped him across the face once more for good measure, and when he reached out for me, I yanked open the front door and darted down the hallway, ignoring the fact that I had no keys or money on me.

“
MELISSA!
” Joel screamed, but I was already taking the stairs two at a time. He would never catch up, not with all his smoking and drinking and general bad health.

I hit the street at a sprint and ran until my lungs were burned so raw I couldn’t take a breath without coughing. Then I collapsed onto the yellow grass beside an abandoned playground and stared at the sky.

I wanted to cry but couldn’t. I couldn’t cry without drugs. Shit, I couldn’t even be
depressed
without drugs. So I lay there and watched the clouds move, searching for shapes and faces that weren’t there.

* * *

The only safe place I knew of within walking distance was my ex-friend Cordelia’s apartment. I’d found out she was sleeping with Blade about a month ago, even after I warned her about his violent nature. But I didn’t stay angry with her for very long. I knew she did it for the same reason I did. And she was more terrified of him than I was. We hadn’t officially made up, but I figured now was a good time to do it.

When Cordelia heard me on the intercom, she was silent for at least ten seconds. I almost ducked away in defeat, but she sighed and said, “Come up, I guess.”

Cordelia was a dark-skinned, dark-eyed beauty. She was small and curvy, a build completely opposite to my own. She and I were what we called “freelance prostitutes.” Cordelia had tons of horror stories about her old pimp, which kept me far away from anyone of the like.

When I greeted her at the door, I almost fell over. She was a complete and total mess. Her eyeliner and mascara were smeared all over her face. The whites of her eyes were stained a shade somewhere between yellow and pink. She’d gained weight. There was a large scar across her chest, newly healed. She looked terrified and relieved all at once. Before I could move, she reached out and gathered me into a tight hug.

I told her about my encounter with Joel and how I had no wallet or food. I didn’t want to go back to that apartment for another few hours, just to be sure. Cordelia promised to take care of me for as long as I needed her.

“These men are sick,” she told me, digging around inside her refrigerator. The apartment, which had once been relatively quaint, had fallen into disarray. Boxes of expired food sprawled out across her counter, but the worst of it was the used condom in the sink. “I swear, some higher being fucked up when he made them.” She sniffed a container of yogurt and winced. “You’re best sticking with your fellow bitches.”

“Maybe it’s me,” I whispered.

“Ha! Wouldn’t that be flattering? No.” Cordelia shook her head. “Honey, don’t you worry your head about it. Blade and Joel…they’re born animals, plain and simple. There’s not a good bone in their bodies. They use us like condoms and throw us out.”

“Blade’s probably worse.”

Cordelia paused and glanced at me. Tears welled in her eyes. I’m sure she was thinking of what she’d done with Blade. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” Then she leaned against the counter, tears in her eyes. I rushed to her and gathered her up in my thin arms as she cried against my shoulder.

“I never wanted to!” she bawled. “I know what you said about him. But he promised me some street dust and I couldn’t—”

“Shh, I know,” I murmured into her greasy hair. “It was his fault. I know.”

“I put my addiction in front of my best girlfriend. I’m not ever gonna do that again.” She pulled back and blinked at me. “We gals got to stick together, right?”

I nodded and hugged her again. “We’ll always stick together. I promise.”

Cordelia eventually pulled herself together so that she could make me some decent breakfast (or lunch, considering it was now about eleven thirty). We talked and ate in front of an empty TV stand. Cordelia noticed my stare and sighed.

“I sold the TV.” She bit her lip and refused to meet my eyes. “For money, you know.”

I nodded. I understood.

“Are you back with Blade?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Does he still treat you like shit?”

I shrugged and bit a nail.

“He know about your prostitution?”

“Yeah, I guess. He’s no stranger to hookers, and he’d have to be an idiot not to hear the rumors.”

“This
is
Blade we’re talking about.”

We giggled and it felt good. I was sick of putting up with my sister and her indifference. She didn’t want to hear about Blade, about my job.
Ignorance is bliss
, she told me. In her case,
complete ignorance
.

I never went home. I stayed at Cordelia’s the whole day, chatting and eating and sometimes sitting there in silence. The silence was the worst. In silence, we were forced to listen to ourselves. I hated the little voice that mocked me.

You are nothing
, she said.
You deserve your poverty
.
You deserve Joel’s abuse
.
You deserve Blade’s
.

Every time the voice started up, I cleared my throat and started another conversation with Cordelia.

I needed some good money tonight. I told Cordelia I’d help her out with her “rent,” which was the excuse she used. I knew she wasn’t going to use the money for rent, but I guess I pitied her. And I loved her. So I decided that instead of taking a few lazy tricks here and there, I’d work hard tonight.

Cordelia loaned me her six-inch pumps, which only pinched my toes a little bit. She also gave me her silver tube top that laced in the back, the only one that fit my humble breasts. I had to use a belt with the jean shorts so that they wouldn’t fall down. We took turns dolling up each other’s faces and hair. She worked hers into a tight, frizzy bun while she helped straighten my auburn curls. I put blush over my freckles while she outlined my hazel eyes. Within fifteen minutes, we were ready to hit the street. We talked and giggled until we got outside the building. Then a somber mood fell over us as we got into her rusty silver coupe.

“I’m glad you didn’t wear the fishnets,” she told me. “You look better without them. You don’t have cellulite like me.”

“I don’t have cellulite because I don’t have an ass,” I reminded her. “I think I’d rather have the ass.”

“It’s nothing but trouble,” she assured me.

“You get bigger tips.”

“Lot of good those do me.” She gave me a brittle smile, and my throat tightened. I turned to my window. She still hadn’t told me why her life seemed to be falling apart. What was different now? Why didn’t she look like this a month ago? Was this Blade’s doing?

When we parked, I reached for the door to slip out. Cordelia grabbed my wrist.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Do you ever…do you ever wonder what it’s like to fall in love?” she asked softly.

I snorted. “Everyone’s looking out for number one, and to say differently is a lie.”

“I saw a movie. In it, a girl like—like us found a man who loved her. They lived happily ever after.”

Cordelia and Mimi both had a silly weakness for romantic notions of life. “Girls like us don’t get that sort of ending, because good men don’t fall for whores,” I told her with an indifferent shrug.

Cordelia blinked. “What about a woman?”

“What?”

“Would a woman love a whore?”

I gaped at her in silence. “Cordelia, is there something you want to tell me?”

“It’s nothing,” she stated firmly, throwing her door open. “Nothing at all.”

I got out of the car and stood, slamming the door behind me. Cordelia walked quickly toward the barbershop down the street, and I followed.

Cordelia went inside while I stood by the door and stared out into the open street. Cars crawled past, then darted into the night, as if ashamed they had stopped to look. The sidewalk was pretty empty; I only saw Yogi getting out of her car.

“Hey,” I greeted her.

Yogi pulled her fur coat tighter around her. Her makeup was too thick, her clothes too bright. But I guess she had to try harder than the rest of the girls, especially considering her low voice and protruding Adam’s apple.