Young Writers Society

She was too old. Or perhaps, they were too young.

Qui’in sat on a bench outside a jazz club, ignoring the young men who tried to talk to her. They all knew who she was, and most of them had an idea that they were far out of their league. She was studying a vine crawling up the bench leg, trying her hardest to block out the attempts of one of the more stubborn, stupider lords. She wondered when they had started to annoy her like they did now. Didn’t she recall a time when she found the cocksure and arrogant attractive?

She sighed and finally looked up. “I charge five thousand a night,” she announced bluntly. She glanced at the worn shoes her wooer wore and cocked her head since he wouldn’t be able to see her smirk. “By the looks of your shoes, you couldn’t afford fifteen minutes which isn’t quite enough time for what you want, dear.”

The man laughed and either ignored or was unaware of her annoyed sigh. “Who pays that much for a fuck?”

She laughed. “Oh honey, they don’t pay for a…” Her nose flared as if she couldn’t stand the stench of the word. “Fuck.” She ran a finger down one of his arms. “They pay for an experience. Something a little more than they could get with their hand.” She was happy with the how the man drew back and glared at her. She wasn’t afraid of him.

If he hit her all she would have to do was cry and a peacekeeper and three strong, brave men would be at her side, ready to prove themselves. Really, men were too easy to manipulate. She was glad they had size on their side. Otherwise, she might feel bad about how she pulled their strings.

She looked up at Lekan who had appeared at the other man’s elbow and watched closely.

“Just go inside. She’s probably waiting for someone.” Lekan took his friend’s upper arm and pushed him towards the door. “There are other girls.” He winked at Qui.

“I owe you one, honey,” she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes. She knew he could see the movement. She had chosen a veil sheer and light enough to see the shadow of lashes.

He patted his friend on his shoulder and looked back, half in half out. The surprise painted on his face made her lips twitch in amusement. Hiding his thoughts and emotions would have to be lesson number one. “When?”

“Why don’t you go follow your boy in and come back in fifteen minutes, half an hour.” She brushed at imaginary dust on her skirt and tried not to be charmed by his huge grin. “Remember to blink, dear.” She waved him into the bar and took advantage of a hard earned skill. She sat completely still.

The young ladies who thought they were so different from their motehrs glared at her as they flounced in with their short skirts and gaudy jewelry.

She remembered why she’d stopped serving young people. Her veil was a beautiful tool. Her eyes could dart about while her body reflected complete peace.

The time passed slowly, but she had learned patience.

She heard the gong of a temple and tried to determine how long it had been since she had been to a service. Until a sermon obviously directed at her stung her pride, she had been a fairly regular attendant and contributed a decent percentage of her salary.

She missed going to temple.

Her eyes flicked to the door as Lekan came out. “I got away as soon as I could,” he said, so obviously eager.

She would have rejected him for that alone if this was a normal situation.

“It’s kind of crazy that you’re here. My uncle and a friend of his were talking about you.” He stood near her, not awkwardly, which she approved of. His hands moved with his words so much that people noticed. The fact that he had freely offered that information was another strike against him, and she was sure there were more flaws hidden. Everyone hid flaws.

She sighed, realizing that this was going to be more of a challenge than she had hoped for, and stood slowly. When he moved to follow her, she put a hand on his chest, smiling softly though he couldn’t see it as her words dripped, just sweet enough to be condescending to a listener with a good ear. “You’ll need to work for it.”

He nodded, face serious. “I’m not surprised.”

He didn’t have a good ear then. She smoothed the wrinkles from his shirt. “I like to be a little more subtle. It’s kind of obvious what was going to take place here, people recognizing me. Especially since you left in such a hurry.” She moved a finger to trace his hairline. “How about this? We’ll meet tomorrow, two blocks over.” She tilted her head to the left, so he would see where she meant. “At the edge of the park over there. Your shirt will be ironed.” She kept her tone even though it wanted to snap. Shabby appearances were a pet peeve of hers. “And we’ll play a game.”

The confusion stamped on his face had her pausing to stifle a giggle.

“We’ll meet together, but we’ll be so subtle about it that no one will know. If I win, you wait another day. If you win...” She allowed the moment of silence just because she loved how he hung onto her every word. It gave her a power rush every time a man skipped along at her every whim. “You get me.” She kept her voice coy as he began to nod, ignoring a tug of guilt. She almost felt guilty, taking advantage of a child.

He smiled. “A challenge will make it better.”

She laughed then, putting all of the smoky experience she had behind it. “Oh darling, a challenge makes everything sweeter.” She kissed him, knowing it left him hungry. “Go back and join your friends. Make up a story, so they don’t know about the game.” She watched him struggle against base needs and cocked her head when he continued to stand, staring.

He finally shook his head as if it clear it and turned away, looking back as he opened the door. She’d have to work on his reaction time too. “Is this really because I got that guy to back off?”

She felt herself tense and made sure she was relaxed before shrugging. “Or maybe it’s that pretty face. Every girl’s gotta have her treat.” She withheld a groan at how he straightened and gave her what she was sure he considered his most charming smile which she would also have to correct.

“I would be happy to be devoured,” he murmured with a wink.

She laughed until the door closed behind him. She had a lot of work ahead of her.

She began to walk away, her goal of seeing just how much work was to be done completedShe glanced up as the gong sounded again and decided she’d see what the message was today as she made her way toward the only high terrain in the area.

Which happened to be what Obi was wishing he could do as he sat in a small crowded room full of outraged old men who had too much to say and not enough inclination to listen. As he smashed a fifth cigarette into the ashtray that was almost full, he studied the faces of old friends. Most were getting on in age. Some had even been replaced. He accepted Sefu’s offered lighter and lit the next cigarette.

The atmosphere was nothing like what it had been in the old days when they had sipped brandy and complained, making jokes at the monarchy’s sake. He had always participated, even when he had considered Rufulo a friend. He had recognized his friend’s downfalls.

The jocularity he had enjoyed had been washed away, and he was coming to suspect that he had missed something or had failed to be invited to some of the later king bashing parties that had gone on. A serious, deadly air hung in the room with the cigarette smoke. An underlying bitterness had always been present, but the laughter that used to soften the harsh feelings was gone. The men were focused, and Obi recognized the hunger that was behind it. He had been in enough battles to see desperate men when they were in front of him.

He pretended to be smoking of boredom, covering the nervousness tightening in his stomach with a studied indifference. He knew it had to be working because he was so close to fooling himself. He wasn't even listening now. Pen-di's voice was a buzz right now. If he wasn't careful he'd just fall asleep. Nervous people didn't fall asleep so-

“Lekan’s sentence was supposed to be a threat. Our government is behind the times, and our Rufulo knows it.”

Obi snapped to attention at the mention of his nephew, his face growing hard at the red faced man who had placed himself at the head of the table, Pen-di.

“We’re sorry for your hardship, Obi,” he added as if it was an afterthought and went on, “They don’t want us trading with Namun because they’re afraid we’ll follow the Namundi people’s lead and overthrow the monarchy. That’s what we should do.”

Murmuring broke out as he sat down. Obi was disturbed to see how many men were nodding in agreement.

These people didn't seem to realize what revolution did to a country. Even Sefu, who had been beside him, facing horrors that came from conflict, looked thoughtful. Had he forgotten?

Rapping his fingers against the arm of the chair in a childhood habit that had only resurfaced recently, Obi stood up slowly, his nose flaring as he tried to find the exact words he wanted. “I appreciate your concern for me and mine,” he murmured, sure to keep his voice soft and slow.

Several men started murmuring their condolences, only to look down at his hard stare.

He wasn’t going to delude himself into thinking he could change the turn of the tide. If he was completely honest with himself, perhaps he didn’t want to. Rofulo had kept no friends in the last few months, and Obi was proud, not one to take rejection, even slightly deserved rejection, well. If he had been acting for only himself, he may have been persuaded to add his experience to the equation, but he refused to have Lekan’s name sullied any more than it already had. He knew these men well enough not to be fooled by their condolences. Lekan’s mistreatment would be used as another weapon in the arsenal that had to already be plentiful against the monarchy. Obi couldn’t let that happen.

“I refuse to have my nephew be made an icon of a movement he’s not even aware of.” He gave a wry smirk as dead silence fell hard upon the crowded room. No one expected rejection. “Lekan deserved what he got. He broke the law.” The lie burned in the back of his throat, but he made sure to keep his face still and stony. “The throne was harsh, but Rufulolo was making a statement, one that needed to be made.” He raised his eyebrows as three others stood up, crying in outrage. “Have we forgotten how things proceed here?” He waited for the silence to return, his jaw hard. “I have no wish to be a part of this, and I refuse to allow my nephew’s name to be dragged into it. You’re my peers and my friends. I’ve grown up with most of you. Been through good and bad times with all of you. There’s no need to fear a report from me. My tie with Rufulolo has been thoroughly severed, but I don’t wish for the chaos revolution brings. I won’t offer my services.” He nodded to Pen-di. “Thank you for the invitation.” He reached over and tapped his cigarette against the ashtray rim. “I’ll see you.” Weaving through the crowd of men, the tension radiating from them making his stomach clench as it had when he’d stood on the battlefield, he left the room.

He heard the footsteps behind him and chose to ignore them.

“Obi!” Sefu called, panting as he jogged, no match for his friend’s long, efficient stride.

He slowed and turned if only because it was Sefu.

Grabbing his arm, Sefu brought him close and glanced at the cracked door. He spoke in a low hiss so that no one would be able to eavesdrop. “These men are the ones that are going to control the country, Obi. You need to be on their good side.” He met the cold stare much more fearlessly than was to be expected.

Nostrils flaring with anger, Obi swallowed as he rejected words that would damage a cherished friendship. Finally, he swallowed in preparation and spoke slowly, as quietly as Sefu had. “If I need to be so careful to stay in their favor, what makes them so different from Rufulolo?” His words held the cool clipped calm of fury.

Sefu’s gaze dropped. “It’s not perfect, but I beg you come back. I’m the one that fought for your inclusion.”

Grimacing, Obi scoffed. “You expect me to swallow my pride-” he began hotly before his mind caught up with his mouth and he closed it with an audible click of his teeth. He had to concede to Sefu’s point as infuriating as that was. “Fine.” He swung around on his heel, his hands fisted, his posture stiff, and returned to the stuffy room.

Glaring at the man, younger by five years or so, who had taken his chair until it was free again, he sat back at the table and threw his pack of cigarettes on the table in front of him where they would be easy to reach. He didn’t want to have to be searching through his pockets every time he wanted another one, and there would be many times.

What these men didn’t seem to understand was revolution was a young man’s game. He was too old.