Our door was opened and Roger helped me out. Roger was the only one I could really recognize, but not because he looked any different. It was because I’d spent time with him, and he was the only one who regarded me with any expression. From what I could tell, he liked me well enough.
Ezekiel waited for me to round the car. Then he took my waist and led me to the plane.
The inside of the plane should have shocked me, but I was done being shocked by the extent of Ezekiel’s wealth. There was a big screen TV, a few leather couches, and a table already set up with champagne glasses. The only proof that we were standing in a jet and not a five-star hotel room were the porthole-shaped windows letting in the afternoon light. There was no stewardess, either—I was the only female on the plane.
Ezekiel collapsed onto a couch at the far end of the room, snapping his fingers at one of his men. They seemed to understand this gesture, because one immediately appeared with a champagne bottle. He filled up two of the glasses on the table and set them down on the stand beside the couch.
“Come sit, Melissa,” Ezekiel ordered.
Briefly running my hands over the back of my skirt to make sure I wasn’t going to flash anyone, I strode to the couch and slipped onto the armrest beside Ezekiel. His arm slipped over my back, his thumb grazing my bare shoulder blade. With his other hand, he gave me a champagne glass, which I took and sipped gingerly.
“Is Roger coming with?” I asked softly.
“Yes. He’ll be up front.” Ezekiel motioned to the small room right behind the cockpit, which was kept secret from the luxury of the main cabin. “He, Garrett, and Bruce will be accompanying us and have been provided accommodations. I treat my employees very well.”
“I noticed.”
He smiled at me.
“And my—um—supplies? Are they coming, too?”
Ezekiel waved me away. “Believe me, there will be plenty of street dust when we get there. Didn’t I promise to provide? Do you doubt me?”
I shook my head.
“Do you like movies?” Ezekiel asked, eyes darting momentarily to Bruce—or Garrett—who stood near the television.
“Um, I guess.” I didn’t have much time for movies. Mimi loved the tearjerkers and the romantic comedies, few of which I could tolerate, so I stayed away from the television when she was home.
Ezekiel picked up a remote and aimed it at the TV. It flickered on and showed me an extensive list of movie titles.
“All those are stored on the TV?” I asked.
“Yes, it’s called technology,” he said with a smile.
“Um…”
“Here. Scroll through what you like.”
I took the remote from him and ran through the list carefully. I tried to keep Ezekiel in mind when making my selection, but I had no idea what kind of movies he liked. Maybe he was into the super artsy indie films. Many of those were over my head, though. Yet if I chose some silly comedy, would he think I was an idiot?
Picking out a movie had never been this difficult.
Eventually, I decided to go with what Ezekiel would expect from me. He’d assumed I liked shopping because I was a woman, so maybe he’d approve of Mimi’s favorite romantic comedy. I’m sure she loved it because it was a happy and simple story, one that could transport her away from her reality. Right now, maybe it was what I needed.
Chapter 12
The movie was mercifully short, as was the flight. Ezekiel had not been very specific about how far we were going, and he hadn’t told me we’d be going to the capital of all vice and pleasure, Goddess.
The city was actually named Goddessa, but since a few ambitious young entrepreneurs bought up that particular line of the coast a hundred years ago, no one called it Goddessa anymore. Goddess was the place where people went to pretend. A janitor from a middle school could hit the jackpot at a multi-million casino. An accountant could hire a hooker for five hundred bucks a trick and pretend she was his girlfriend. A taxi driver could go to a hip bar and get drunk on neon drinks that came in five-ounce glasses and cost twenty a shot. It was a stage, and everyone there was an actor. They were all there to live in a fictional tale of wealth, sex, and pleasure. The motto of the city was, “Everyone is a Goddess.” Everyone thought they were goddesses. Only a select few actually were.
The plane landed at night, but I could see the neon lights of Goddess stroking the velvet blue sky. Taking a deep breath, I followed Ezekiel down the steps of the plane and into a waiting limo, this one much longer than the one at home. Roger sat across from us, but Bruce and Garrett rode in an SUV behind us.
“And so we embark on a new adventure,” Ezekiel said. “Goddess should treat us well, as she usually does. Roger, I expect that all arrangements at the hotel have been made?”
Roger nodded. “I reserved the presidential suite.”
“Excellent. I want us to enjoy our time in Goddess.” He turned to me. “I would have told you we were coming here, but I wanted it to be a bit of a surprise.” He smiled graciously, as if his intentions were only honorable. “Are you excited to be here?”
I’d always heard the shows were spectacular and the beaches gorgeous, but I’d never foreseen a visit with a limo and a presidential suite. I put on a smile and nodded like a good girl.
Ezekiel might or might not have seen through my forced expression, but he didn’t seem to care. We were turning onto one of the main stretches of Goddess, and I was struck with awe.
Lights were everywhere. They danced, twirled, rolled, and climbed up buildings, colored every hue along the spectrum. They spelled words, drew pictures, and spotlighted the arches of fountain spray. With so many lights keeping the night alive, I wondered how depressing this place would look in the daytime when they weren’t needed.
People swarmed the streets, far more interesting than the people back at home. It was like some kind of twisted costume party, some glittering in evening gowns while other women wore tiny bikinis and peacock feathers on their heads, pausing to take pictures with chubby men in flannel. Why pay for a show when you could watch the pedestrians? My nose was practically glued to the glass as our limo crawled through traffic. We briefly rolled up beside a pink limo that sparkled with diamond accents, and the two women poking out of the top yanked up their shirts to flash us. Classy. I looked to see if Ezekiel had noticed, but he was absorbed in his phone.
With each block, the buildings grew taller and wilder. I was used to the skyscrapers at home in Zinya City, where each building was restricted to its own geometric block and the only way to build was up. In Goddess, the buildings grew more organically; sprawling out in whatever direction they could manage until they required sky bridges and tunnels to connect. One casino was called The Peacock, built in the form of fanning feathers, each “feather” spanning thirty stories. Another, Sharky’s, had its own waterfall and a twenty-foot animatronic shark out front with a life-like mannequin crushed between its jaws. My eyes were drunk with fascination, and I’d never felt such a child-like curiosity. Ezekiel watched me in amusement as I stared out the window.
We turned into the cobblestone driveway of a hotel with three towers, each highlighted with strips of red neon. The limo stopped and a white-gloved hand was offered to me. I stepped out onto a red carpet underneath the blaze of a thousand lights running along the canopied entrance.
“Welcome to The Red Velvet Hotel, miss.”
Ezekiel joined me at my side, sliding his hand around my elbow. “So? What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful,” I said truthfully.
“This way, sir,” the bellboy said, waving us toward the gold front doors. Roger stayed behind to help with the luggage. We crossed the threshold into the lobby. Inside, each glass column contained a fire, though I couldn’t tell if the flames were real or not. Long swathes of red velvet were draped across the ceiling and walls. Apparently, subtlety was not something anyone worried about in Goddess. Two barely dressed women hung from trapeze ropes above, and fire jugglers entertained
the small crowd that swarmed around us. Most of them were headed toward the gigantic CASINO! sign that pointed to the left. We went to the desk at the right.
“Ezekiel Maltrick,” he said to the man at the desk. He was given the key without a second thought. Ezekiel and I proceeded toward the elevators.
“Ezekiel,” I asked as we entered the glass-encased elevator and slipped our key card into a slot to access the presidential suite’s floor. The elevator jerked and we started our ascent. Ezekiel and I watched the city fall below before I continued. “I have a question.”
“Yes?”
“You love things classy, am I right?”
He nodded, his eyes digging into mine with frightening intensity.
“Well, this hotel seems more—I don’t know. It’s beautiful, of course, but I expected something more…reserved.”
“Let me remind you that we aren’t here for leisure,” Ezekiel murmured into my ear. “I have business to attend to, and this hotel puts me in the most advantageous position.”
I swallowed with apprehension. Just when I forgot I was involved with a dangerous man, he reminded me.
The elevator reached the peak of the hotel, and I was able to look out across the skyline. I could see the tip of the ocean now—a dark splotch amongst a million lights.
“Your suite, sir,” the elevator operator said, bowing slightly.
Ezekiel nodded. We both stepped into the suite, and the elevator doors snapped shut behind us.
The fire theme had all but vanished, but the red velvet stayed, and the walls were covered in red paint. There were black and silver accents around the bar and the windows, along with a checkerboard floor. We stood on a raised platform that descended a few steps to a main sitting area.
“Ezekiel, I was wondering…”
“Yes?”
“Is it possible to get a bit of time to—” I hung my head, but gestured vaguely toward the crook of my elbow.
“Ah yes. Roger, the suitcase if you please.”
Roger came forward with one of the three bags he’d carried up. I accepted the least conspicuous one. I suppose the nice thing about your own private jet was that you didn’t have to worry about security screenings.
“Go to your private room and take some time to do what you must,” Ezekiel said, then pulled out his phone, punched a few numbers in, and held it to his ear.
“Rosa? We’ve landed and arrived at the hotel. Tonight I’ll need your assistance with Melissa.”
“You brought Rosa?” I asked.
“I flew her over this morning, business class,” he replied curtly. “I didn’t want you going to the fight with a fifteen-minute cleanup job.”
“The fight?”
“Yes.” Ezekiel turned to me, as if struck with an afterthought. “The Red Velvet has an excellent casino, of course, but its true claim to fame is the fight club below ground. That’s where most fortunes are made and lost. I came here because a few men have borrowed loans they’ve been unable to pay back. They’re investing all they have in these fights, and they’re all hoping they bet right.”
“Or what?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if they don’t bet right?”
Ezekiel shrugged. “For their sake, let’s hope they do.”
Ezekiel strode down the few steps toward the couch and TV. “Rosa should be up for you in a few hours. In the meantime, I have a few calls to make. Go to the room over there.” Ezekiel pointed to the black double doors near the bar. “Wait for Rosa.”
* * *
Rosa was quiet, and it was unnerving.
She looked very glamorous and beautiful in her ruffled red dress. But her behavior toward me had gone a total one-eighty. Where she had once been joyous and full of laughter, she was now reserved and business-like. I expected this from her coworkers, but not her. I wanted to ask her what the problem was.
Once or twice she cupped my face in her palm and simply looked at me, far longer than was needed to assess the state of my eye shadow. I met her eyes, and tried telling her all I could without a word. Maybe she didn’t understand me, because she’d often sigh and turn away to fiddle in her makeup case.
She brought out a beautiful black dress trimmed with red. The neckline hung lower than my breasts. The front of the skirt bared my legs from my upper thighs down but then dropped sharply in the back and dragged along the floor behind me. It was another ridiculously expensive brand name dress, though Rosa didn’t look happy giving it to me.
I was sick of her strange behavior. I confronted her at last.
“Why are you acting like this?” I demanded. I wanted my smiling, laughing Rosa back, the one who had defended me from the haughty sneers of her coworkers.
“Acting like what?” she asked.
“Like this,” I hissed. “Like I’m a stranger you’ve never met. You were totally different last time.”
“Melissa…”
“Tell me,” I ordered.
Rosa sighed and ran her fingers over the back of my chair delicately. Then she raised her hand to her face with a sudden sob.
“Rosa?” I stepped forward and reached toward her. She snapped back away from me, rubbing her hand over her face and then inhaling sharply.
“Don’t,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” She tried to wipe at her eyes inconspicuously, but I was facing her dead center and couldn’t have missed it.
“Do you think I’m an idiot or something? Why do you hate me all of a sudden?”
“I don’t hate you,” Rosa replied, looking genuinely shocked.
“Then why are you acting like this?”
“Oh, Melissa…” She shook her head. “Last time—last time I didn’t understand.”
“Understand what?”
“I’ve always known who Ezekiel was. I’ve always known what he does. You can’t live in Metro without knowing. But I didn’t think—I didn’t think he had anything more than a date planned with you.”
I laughed humorlessly. “You honestly believed he was that innocent?”
“I didn’t know what to believe. I’ve never heard about him taking on any women, and I assumed he was either asexual or gay. So I thought he asked you on a date to—I don’t know, keep up an image. But now you’re here, with him, and I know—I know what’s going on.”
“What is going on?”
Rosa’s eyes grew wet again. “Are you having sex with him?”
I looked away. “Only once, so far.”
“Oh, Melissa,” she whispered.
“News flash, Rosa. I’m a prostitute. Sorry if you didn’t know that before. But I am. I sleep with men for a living, and it’s one of the few things I’m good at.”
“Please don’t say that—”
“Everyone is treating this like a fucking tragedy!” I shouted, throwing out my arms. “Like I should be ashamed of this. Like I should be scared. But what the hell is wrong with you? Do you have any idea how many guys have pulled a gun on me? Have asked me to do horrible, degrading things for a couple extra bucks? And now Ezekiel is treating me like a goddamn queen, and all I gotta do is fuck him. I know Ezekiel has killed people, and I know he’s not a nice guy. But damnit, he treats me better than half of Metro, and that’s all it’s about, right? Me. Goddamn me! All my life, I’ve been getting on my knees to suck off ignorant assholes who beat me, yell at me, convince me I’m worth nothing. Ezekiel has called me utterly radiant. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how it feels to have a man like Ezekiel—a man with money, smarts, power, charisma—compliment me? For the first time, I feel like I’m getting ahead and people are still tearing me down. Where was all this sympathy when my eighth grade teacher asked me to suck him off? Where was all this sympathy when that forty-five-year-old father of four put me in the hospital with a broken arm, three broken ribs, and a concussion? Where was all this goddamn fucking sympathy when my mom’s boyfriend first told me touch his penis when I was seven, huh? Huh?”
“Melissa—”
“I’m sick of people telling me what I should do! This is my life. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it since Mom died. If Ezekiel shoots me in the face, why do you give a flying fuck, huh? You already got out of Metro. Don’t worry about me. Worry about your husband and your kid.”
Rosa was crying now, shaking her head. “Don’t say that, Melissa. Please don’t say that.”
I grabbed the dress she held and tossed it over my head. I whirled around to look in the mirror. I looked like a whore. A classy whore, but a whore. Hell, I could be wearing a T-shirt and jeans and I’d still look like a whore. Good. That was what I was. I wasn’t ashamed of who I was and what I did. It was my problem. Not anyone else’s.
I turned on Rosa. She was hiding her face in her hands, probably trying not to cry more than she already was. I felt a tinge of guilt for what I’d said. But in the end, I was telling the truth. If she couldn’t handle it, then she and I couldn’t be close. I didn’t waste my time on people I had to impress with lies.
“Promise me you’ll be careful,” she whispered, finally removing her hands and staring at me with bloodshot eyes.
“I’m always careful. That’s why Ezekiel likes me. I think before I do things.”
“Is that it?” Rosa asked.
I shrugged. “I’ve got nice legs.”
Rosa knew she was supposed to laugh, but she didn’t. She sighed and looked away.
A part of me wanted to hug her and assure her that I’d do my best to stay out of trouble. But I was feeling mean. People always yelled at me. It was my chance to yell at someone else. It was selfish and it was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself.
“Thank you for your help,” I told her. Glancing in the mirror, I knew she’d done an excellent job. My curly hair was straightened, my imperfect complexion perfected, my eyelashes lengthened, and my lips emphasized. I wanted to believe I could fit in with Ezekiel’s people, but no matter what fresh paint I slapped on, I could still see the rough texture beneath. I was still a nobody from Metro. I didn’t think I could be anybody else.
The King and the Courtesan Page 9