“She’s going into surgery tomorrow. We’ll see. Right now they’re giving her heavy-duty treatment, and she’s pretty weak. I just hope…” He looked toward the street. I reached for his hand and squeezed it.
“I hope everything works out all right.”
Roger just ran a hand over his hair.
“I’m guessing this surgery is a big deal?”
“Yeah. It’s to remove the last tumor. It’s pretty risky.”
“As in, she could—you know—um…”
“Die? It’s possible.”
“Are you gonna stop in and see her?”
“Can’t. Ezekiel hasn’t given me any time off—” He stopped immediately when I jumped to a stand.
“Are you serious? Let’s go see her now.”
Roger blinked at me. “What?”
“Right now. Come on.” I grabbed his hand again and tugged it. “It won’t take too long. And Ezekiel won’t mind, I’m sure, as long as I come with you.”
“Melissa—”
“Come on.”
He groaned but stood. I paid for the coffee with the card from Ezekiel and then we were off, headed to Alpin, which was the neighborhood where Roger apparently lived. Alpin was a bit to the west of downtown, known mostly for its old, historical row houses and general beauty. It wasn’t a terribly unaffordable place to live—a lot of the old buildings were falling apart, and since many of the apartment buildings were ancient, landlords gave discounts on rent. However, despite the internal problems, the neighborhood was still done up nice, with trees lining the cobblestone streets and wrought iron fences that weren’t rusting or crooked. People walked their dogs and pushed strollers and a few college students hung around the park, dressed stylishly as they fiddled with their smartphones. I supposed they were from Gina Valley, which had a campus a few miles away. It was a foreign world to me, of course. I’d lived in this city all my life, and I’d never had a reason to come to Alpin.
“Nice neighborhood,” I said.
“It’s all right.” Roger took a left.
“No, it’s pretty. Looks like an old neighborhood, but it’s kept up nice.”
Roger shrugged. “Well, I suggested a place in the suburbs—it would have been cheaper, in the long run—but Bahiya loves Alpin. All her friends live here. And I guess I like it, too, so we decided, why not?”
For about ten minutes, we wove through neighborhood blocks, passing houses of brick, stone, and even pale lilac siding, all with small, manicured lawns. Roger finally stopped at a long stretch of row houses, each four stories tall, all brick and iron. Roger parked on the street and got out, though he didn’t have a chance to open my door before I opened it myself, stepping onto the sidewalk. Underneath my feet were chalk drawings of stick figures and a smiling sun, and something that could have been a dog or a horse. I smiled a little.
“Yeah, so, um, we live on the first two floors.” He gestured toward the row house that read 1067 in brass letters.
I followed Roger to the front door, which led into a lobby. There were two doors, one on each side. Roger opened the door on the left, which emitted a loud barking.
“You have a dog?” I grinned.
“Yea—oof!”
A big, shaggy, black dog shoved its nose in Roger’s crotch, tail thumping against the wall. Roger shoved it back with a leg, and the dog bounded past him to me, mouth hanging wide open, tongue off to one side. I reached down to pet it, and it licked my wrist.
“This is Kendra. She’s not much of a lady, as you can—Kendra, get off of her.”
Kendra jumped on me, placing her big paws on my waist, reaching for my face. I laughed as I pushed her back, and Roger finally got her down by taking her collar.
“Crazy mutt,” he grumbled, pushing her away from him. “Go bother someone else.”
“Roger?”
Roger and I both looked up. A blonde, blue-eyed woman stood across the living room, in the entrance to what looked like a kitchen. She didn’t look anything like Bahiya.
“Hi! Um, Pam, this is Melissa. Melissa, Pam. Pam is Bahiya’s friend, who lives just down the street. She’s a nurse, so she hangs around to help Bahiya if she can. Pam, Melissa is—uh—the wife of the guy I told you about.”
“Nice to meet you.” Pam smiled gently. She struck me as someone who would make a good nurse, even dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. “Roger is so secretive about his life. I never expected to meet anyone he worked for. Anyway, long time no see.” Pam crossed the room and hugged Roger warmly. When she pulled back, she kept a hand on Roger’s shoulder. “It’s been, what, a month since I’ve seen you?”
“I was away. Away with Melissa and her husband. Couldn’t exactly duck out of that one. But now I’m here—even though I don’t have work off, Melissa said I should come see Bahiya and this slimy dog—Kendra, for the last time!” Roger kneed Kendra out of his crotch again. “Geez.”
“They work you too hard, Roger.” Pam frowned and looked at me.
“It’s not my decision,” I said. “Everything is up to my—husband.”
“Well, thanks for stopping by.” Pam headed toward the kitchen again. “I made some lasagna if either of you want any.”
“Um, maybe later. I should probably see Bahiya first.”
Pam waved toward the stairs. Roger glanced at me and crossed the living room. I looked around before I followed. It was a small living room, painted an understated blue and filled with plush, mismatched furniture. There was clutter, but it was good clutter, the kind that made it feel like a home. There were some paintings, but most of the frames on the walls had pictures. I glanced at the assortment hanging on the staircase. Most of them featured Bahiya—her friends, college, graduation, the wedding. Roger was a much rarer find. Even the photographs seemed to catalogue his absence from the house.
I caught up to Roger at the top of the stairs. He tapped the door to the immediate right.
“Come in,” came a muffled, accented voice from inside. Roger entered as I peeked in curiously from behind him.
It was clearly a room furnished and designed by a woman, with warm yellow wallpaper and white antique furniture. The curtains were translucent, hanging from the only window with eerie weightlessness. Everything matched, and nothing was out of place. It was the kind of room I had always dreamed about, not because it was fancy or expensive, but because it felt like the sunlight had come in and decided to stay a while. The bed looked so goddamn comfortable, and the window seat, a perfect spot to curl up and read a book.
Which was exactly where Bahiya was. For a moment, she didn’t look real, dressed in baggy beige pants and a loose, long-sleeved shirt. Even her pale skin seemed to match the décor, looking creamy and soft like the comforter. Only then did I notice she hardly had any hair. In all her photos, it had been long and glossy, the kind most would envy. I didn’t know many Jahralian women, but most were built like her—small and thin, like porcelain dolls with almond-shaped, purple eyes.
Bahiya uncurled her legs and dropped her book. Perhaps she was too thin. The pictures on the staircase had portrayed her with more color and life. She looked sick, but only barely.
“Roger.” A smile lit up her face, but then she saw me, and it dimmed. “Who is—?”
Roger cleared his throat. “Bahiya, this is Melissa. She’s the wife of the man I work for. I mostly hang around her, keeping her safe and what-not.”
Well, it wasn’t a complete lie.
“Oh.” Bahiya’s inner light seemed to dim, and her shoulders sagged. “Um, hello.”
I waved. “Hi. It’s nice to finally meet you. Roger has had so many good things to say about you.”
Not really, but this was another lie that couldn’t hurt anyone.
Bahiya smiled slightly, but she turned her attention away when Roger put a hand on her shoulder. She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek.
“I’ll—I’ll wait downstairs,” I told them, then slipped out and went back to the living room. Pam was somewhere else, because I d
idn’t hear her milling around in the kitchen. I decided to sit on the couch, but being as I had nothing to do, I could only glance around the room. I picked up a frame on the end table and stared at the picture in it. Bahiya and Roger were touching soda cans together, grinning. Looking at them made me feel bad. They seemed happy, carefree, normal, like a married couple should look. I was jealous. The only boyfriend I’d had was Blade, but that was more about dust than anything else. This picture was a gateway into a world I’d never visited, and I would have done anything to step inside and call that world my own.
I sighed and put the picture back. I was startled when the front door opened, admitting Pam.
“Shit, my car won’t start. Is Roger upstairs?”
I nodded. Pam rushed past me and pounded up the steps. A few minutes later, Roger was following her back down as Pam explained to him what she did to try to get her car started. Roger raised a finger to me in the “give me a minute” sign and left the house with Pam, whose voice faded as the door closed.
When I turned back, Bahiya was staring at me from the archway into the living room. I jumped in shock.
“Oh. I didn’t see you come down.”
Bahiya stepped toward the kitchen. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“I’m fine. I just had a coffee.”
“I know. Roger smelled like it.” Bahiya scratched the back of her hand. “Are you sure you don’t want anything?”
“I’m fine, thank you.”
Bahiya sat down in an armchair across from me, petting Kendra as she shoved her big head into Bahiya’s lap. There was a long, awkward silence. I was about to tell her how lovely her home was, or how nice Roger was, but she stopped me dead with a startling question.
“Are you sleeping with my husband?”
Chapter 23
I gaped at her in shock for a few seconds before gasping, “No!”
Bahiya stared at me before sighing again and bowing her head. “I wasn’t sure.”
“I would never—he’s just my bodyguard. We’re friends. He’s a nice guy, and I like him, but certainly not like that.” I wanted to tell her Ezekiel would murder both of us if such a thing happened, but she didn’t know about Ezekiel, so I kept my mouth shut.
Bahiya bit her lip as she plucked at the wrinkles in her pants. “It’s just—” She paused a moment, closing her eyes. I hoped she wasn’t going to cry. “He’s always at work. Always. And I’ve been wondering lately if maybe—maybe it’s not really work. Maybe he’s lying to me because he’s having some sort of affair, and well, I saw you, and you’re a very pretty young lady, and I thought… I’m sorry.” She inhaled sharply and pressed a hand against her face. “I’m sorry.”
I didn’t know what to say or even what to feel. “Mrs.—Bahiya. Look, it really is Roger’s job. I swear to you. Roger’s job is to keep me safe, and he does it wonderfully, and if he were seeing another woman, I would know.”
Bahiya lifted her face and pulled her hand away, though she didn’t look much happier. “You’re—please. I only want the truth.”
“I swear it to you. Trust me. You don’t have to worry about him.”
Bahiya bit her lip and nodded, but she looked so…sad. She didn’t even seem angry with me. Maybe she was too tired and sick to be angry. Whatever it was, I suddenly wanted to hug her.
I didn’t, however.
“I’m sorry.” Bahiya sniffed. “I didn’t mean to accuse you. You seem like a nice person.”
“It’s all right.” This was a very strange encounter indeed.
Bahiya reached for some tissues on an end table and touched one to her nose daintily. “Do you worry about your husband? From what little Roger has told me about him, he travels a lot. Separation is hard for a marriage.”
I almost asked, What husband? before I remembered that Ezekiel was supposedly mine. “He is gone much of the time, but I trust him.” This was true, even though being faithful wasn’t part of our deal. And Ezekiel didn’t strike me as the type to pursue multiple women at once.
“That’s good, though, I’m not surprised. After all, you aren’t a cripple.” The last word sounded so bitter that I jumped a little. Bahiya had to have noticed, because she responded. “I’ve been sick for so long—Melanie, is it?”
“Melissa.”
“Ah. Yes. I’ve been sick, and tired, and I never have the energy to do anything, and I don’t even have hair.” She sighed. “If this had happened ten years after our marriage, or only five, at least I would have felt like the beginning years had made it worth it, but it seems like our entire marriage has been me lying in bed, too sick to work or cook or even go for a walk with him and Kendra. It makes me so insecure when I see other men enjoying such active, normal wives, and then to see mine tied to some bed-ridden invalid, with no way out—”
“Roger doesn’t see it that way.” At least, I didn’t think he did. He wasn’t one to give me the raw details on the quality of his marriage. “Look, it doesn’t matter either way. This job wouldn’t have allowed you two much time to be together anyway—”
“He only has this job because he needs it to pay my bills. If I weren’t sick—or if he had someone else—he could quit his job and get something less time consuming. And less dangerous. He assures me that it isn’t a dangerous job, but you and I know better, don’t we, Melissa?”
I stared at her. I couldn’t lie, despite how much I wanted to. Nor was I going to tell her just how dangerous it was. Roger still had a healing bullet wound in his shoulder. I hoped she hadn’t seen that.
“I-I-” I took a deep breath and found my voice. “It’s not terribly dangerous, no. He’s fine. He’s very well taken care of.”
“Whoever he works for has a lot of money.” Bahiya pointed to the window, where I could see the car parked. “That isn’t your usual corporate car. It’s far too nice. And you. I’m not much of a fashion guru, but that dress looks very expensive. You look very expensive. So if this man is so rich, how come I haven’t heard of him?”
“He likes to keep a low profile. He—uh—has radical political views.”
“You’re not a very good liar.”
I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling as if I were suffocating. “Bahiya, I can’t—I can’t tell you, all right? Yes, it is a dangerous job. But it is a highly secretive job, and Roger can’t tell you who he works for or what he does, nor can I. Just know that for the most part, his job involves hanging out with me. Most of the time we just go out to lunch, talk a little, and then drive around. Believe me, he’s not dodging bullets.” At least, not every day.
“And are you really this man’s wife?”
“Um, sort of.”
Bahiya blinked, clearly not one to be fooled.
I bowed my head. “More like his, er, personal companion.”
Bahiya didn’t seem surprised at all, but at least she didn’t stick up her nose at me. She actually didn’t seem that bothered, almost as if she expected to hear that.
I decided I liked her.
“Can you promise me something, Melissa?”
“Um, sure.”
“Please keep Roger out of trouble. I don’t want him risking his life just to pay my bills so I don’t die. It would be stupid if he died instead. Sometimes I feel like he worries too much about me. All my family is in Jahral, and they’re all very poor. My friends haven’t any money to spare, either. Roger thinks it’s wholly his responsibility to pick up the financial burdens. If he dies, so do I. I’d prefer if it were just me dying. At least it’s no one’s fault if I go. If Roger… I could never live with myself—”
“I’ll make sure he’s safe,” I said, though I had no clue as to how I was supposed to do that. Ezekiel gave the orders, not me, and if Ezekiel wanted Roger to go spelunking in a Cave of Death, well, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. But Bahiya needed to hear the lie, so I told it to her.
Bahiya opened her mouth to speak, but she was interrupted by Roger’s return. He wiped his hands with a rag before pickin
g up the jacket he’d deposited earlier and slipping back into it.
“All right, Pam is on her way. Her battery was low because her overhead light was on.” He rolled his eyes.
Bahiya stood. “Pam made some lasagna. Would either of you like any?”
I began to say no, but then realized I had nothing to do today, and I didn’t mind wasting time here if that meant Roger could be with his wife longer. It felt awkward, standing here and keeping these two from kissing or whatever they wanted to do in private. But it wasn’t like I could just walk off. I guess I could’ve sat in the car all day, but I’m sure Roger wouldn’t have wanted that.
“Sure,” I agreed, and all three of us went to the kitchen.
* * *
If there was one thing I found out about Roger in those two hours, it was that he was a very private man. I’d always known that a little, but now I saw the true extent of it. Sitting next to his wife, he conversed and smiled a little, but never did he lean over and kiss her or tease her. Not because he wasn’t in love with her—his eyes would dart to her in an occasional smitten glance. I knew he didn’t move toward her because I was there. I didn’t care much what he did. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen a couple kiss in front of me before. Hell, I’d walked in on Yogi and a customer in full swing just a few months ago. If I could be cool about that, I was fine with Roger kissing his wife. But he didn’t. And I didn’t think my saying anything about it would make him.
Bahiya wasn’t terribly affectionate, either, but I knew that was a Jahralian thing. Public display of emotion was heavily frowned upon in their culture, so the women weren’t affectionate—at least, not in front of others. Bahiya struck me as a very traditional Jahralian woman. She dressed conservatively, nothing too tight or brightly colored, very little make-up, plain lip balm, and basic clear nail polish. She talked quietly and slowly, as if reading from a text. Her smiles were always subdued and even her movements were careful, as if afraid of startling me.
The King and the Courtesan Page 17