The Veil - Chapter 4

Qui’in walked most of the time. Cars made her nervous. They were too big, too fast, and too loud for her. Not to mention, they took the joy out of getting places. In a car, you couldn’t watch people, not to mention meet them. In a car, you couldn’t enjoy the cool twilight breeze. No, it was morphed into an unseemly roar. She lifted her face to the breeze that dried some of the sweat beading on the back of her neck. She didn’t mind the billowing of her veil as it caught the wind.

She didn’t like how cars were firmly in the rare grey area between public and private areas. So many of her sisters of profession had been found and arrested in cars. She glared at one of the vehicles as they passed. Why anyone would want to take advantage of a prostitute’s services in a car, she would never understand. Men came to her to be coddled and adored. There was no room for finesse in a car. It would always be quick and cramped and uncomfortable. It took the art out of it.

She wrinkled her nose and wondered if cars smelled as bad on the inside as they made the outside smell.

She saw one of her sisters leaning against a wall, a black trench cloak covering the flashy, risqué dress beneath. Qui realized she had picked it out for her as she watched the dance fallen ladies did with possible customers.

The quick sparkle in the dying sun was all Qui saw as the woman talked easily with the young man as if she hadn’t just made an advertisement. He was cocky, invading the girl’s space with a confident step forward. She held her own though, running a finger down his neck and over one shoulder.

As Qui passed the pair, she was shocked to recognize the Eshe boy Kamaria had complained about intermittently through her entire visit. She glanced back before turning a corner to see them strolling to a car and scoffed.

The follies of the young.

She jumped as she ran into someone and turned her startled gaze up. “Excuse me.” She studied the serious expression of the man she’d run into and heard her voice drop into the seductive tone she saved for perspective customers. “Should look where I’m going. Silly me.”

His eyes were a strange grey that spooked her despite the fog the veil dropped before her eyes, and her gut pinned him for a government man, even a peacekeeper, before he’d had a chance to speak.

“No. I should have seen you coming. I was watching…” He stopped as a car passed, his nose flaring and his lips flattening as his eyes followed it. When his gaze returned to her, he gifted her with a smile that made the planes of his face much less severe. “Actually, I need to talk to you.”

She raised an eyebrow that she knew he could see move through the veil. “You do now?” She felt the knot in her stomach loosen. It wasn’t that she was afraid of peacekeepers. She was paid by the chief on a monthly basis, but it was always better to have good press. “You realize I have appointments to keep.” She kept walking, skirting around him, sure he would follow.

“I can make it worth your time.”

She almost scoffed. She didn’t hear that every week. “I’m sure you think you can.”

He was suddenly in front of her again, standing unnervingly close. What irritated her the most was how it seemed to have taken little to no effort.

“What if I said it wasn’t for me?”

Both of her eyebrows went up in surprise this time. “I don’t think I really understand, then.”

“My name is Obi Eshe. My nephew was tried for treason and smuggling today. The throne-“

She was glad he couldn’t see her eyes because they were pitying, and if she’d learned anything, she’d learned how men hated to be pitied. “I heard.”

He nodded. “Then you understand the implications of his punishment?”

“It’s an execution except no one over here gets sprayed with the blood,” she said bluntly.

The grin painted over Obi’s face scared her a little. “Yes. You do understand.”

He seemed to think she could do something about this. “You realize what I am?”

“Oh, yes. You’re a whore.” At the gasp she couldn’t quite withhold at the insult, he stared levelly at her. “I’m not going to apologize for truth, no matter how coarse. I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

How he meant it was not a balm for her pride. “I don’t see how I can help your nephew.”

Obi bent over her. She sensed it wasn’t because he was trying to threaten her but a cause of desperation, eagerness, and heavy responsibility combined. “I need someone to teach him how to be a proper spy without him thinking they’re a teacher. He won’t listen to anyone he thinks is lecturing.

She blinked. “You think I can.”

“I know you can. People talk about you. You’ve gotten away with your business while everyone knows what you are. You can teach him how to be subtle and refined.”

She sniffed. “You give me a lot of credit. I only have to weeks.”

He grabbed her arm when she dismissed him with a condescending pat on the shoulder and tried to pass him again. “I’m willing to make up for all the money you’re going to lose and pay for the time you spend with him. Throw me a number, any number, and I won’t even bargain.” He hated the desperation in those words, but she was his best hope. Whatever cruel fate that made him love the silly boy that was his nephew had done a good job. He would do anything for the stupid boy. “Lekan is 26. He’s a fantastic horseman and, when you can get him to sit down for a few moments, he’s a cello player. He’s funny, makes me laugh all the time, and I don’t think a lot is funny anymore. He’s silly and naïve now, but the boy’s got potential. I don’t have the tools to tap it, but I’m hoping you do.” He stared just under the shadows that were her eyebrows where he thought he saw the flicker of eyelashes from time to time. “You can save him. Please save him.”

The words were out before she could think. “I’ll do it.” The relief that crashed upon Obi’s face and made his hand shake as he took it from her arm was practically enough.

“Thank you.” He told himself his voice didn’t shake .

“I do need to be paid though.” She started walking again, and this time he stayed behind like most men did, following like a dog.

“Of course.”

“And it won’t be cheap.”

“I wouldn’t expect it to.” There was that bite of proud that wasn’t even partially hidden. He could pay for it, and he knew it.

She stopped at the door of a hotel. Piano music could be heard from a high class bar across the street. The beat made her want to dance, but she had stopped dancing long ago. She was too old for that. The sky was a bruised purple with the west the orange of a ripe peach. Men and women passed them on the street, all heading home after a long day’s work. The high class zoomed around in their cars. Obi stood there as if he wasn’t worried.

“This is my place.”

He nodded. “I know. I was waiting for you here before I saw Lekan in my car. I guess it’s lucky he was heading your way.” He still didn’t leave.

She shifted, trying to convince herself it wasn’t awkward. “I’ll have to do some math before I know how much you’ll owe me.”

“How about I just throw one hundred fifty dureen out there.”

Once again, she was glad of her veil because her eyes widened. “Hm.” Dureen’s were the highest currency. She could leave this place, go start life new as a shop keeper, a debutant… a nun.

He wasn’t lucky enough to have a barrier. His face showed surprise. “No? Two hundred then.”

For a moment she wondered how high he would go. She spoke. “Two hundred could cover it,” she murmured, her words clipped and tense as she tried to hide the shock and excitement. She wouldn’t bleed a desperate man dry. She was a prostitute, not a thief.

He swallowed and ran a hand through his hair. She was glad to see he didn’t think her price was pocket change. “I’ll pay it in increments. One fourth at the end of this week. One fourth when Lekan goes across the channel, and the rest if he makes it a week.”

She scoffed, about to argue, when she met his hard eyes.

“We both know if he’s found out that early, you haven’t done your job, and we both know fifty thousand takes care of two weeks of customers.”

Her eyes narrowed. So he wasn’t stupid. He’d done his homework. She wasn’t sure she even wanted to know where he’d found out her charging rate. He’d made sure the price was so high, he’d keep the end of her bargain, and she would.

“Your reputation is going to get ruined with all of your friends whisking about. You don’t want people to know you’re talking to me.”

She gave him a sultry smile. “I’m sure you don’t need your wife hearing about me.”

He laughed and then laughed harder when she pulled away, insulted. “I don’t have a wife, and I’m not really a part of their world.” He waved at the cars, smirking when she gave an unbelieving scoff. “No, it’s true. I mean, I come from their world, but I left it, and they don’t really like it when people come back.” He winked. “But I get your hint. I’ll go. Your pay starts tomorrow, so start informing your customers that you’ll need to take some time off, sweetheart.”

It had been a very long time since anyone had called Qui’in sweetheart, and she had not missed it. She glared at his back as he walked away, and only when he had turned the corner, did she turn on her heel and march into the lobby that bled velvet and wept diamonds. She had letters to write.

Outside, laughter and a trumpet joined the piano while the peach rotted to a cloudy black.