by L. A. Zoe
He kissed my fingers. “I love you. Isn’t that enough?”
“Maybe in Middle Earth, I don’t know,” I said. “Don’t you see? How can I believe I’m really beautiful and lovable and even special when you don’t see me, you see some fairy tale? Until you act like you’re contact with reality, I can’t trust anything you say.”
“You think I’m lying?”
“Not deliberately. That’s the trouble. You believe your own craziness, I’m just a part of it. Maybe, without me, you’ll come down to Earth on your own.”
“I don’t want to live without you.”
“You don’t want to live without your dreams. You hate drugs, but at least they wear off. You’re more tripped out than any stoner hippie acid eater I ever met.”
“So … you’re throwing me under the bus.”
“If you want to put it that way. I want you, Rhinegold. I love you so bad, I can’t even tell you. But who do you love up there in your head, inside your skull? It can’t be me.”
“So, you think I don’t really love you unless I’m in college? Unless I’m making Father happy?”
“I don’t care about him. But I want a man who’ll be part of my life. That includes making money without risking your life. And, unless, you do that already, going to some school to learn how.”
“I’m there with you every night when you’re done working. There really are bad guys who could hurt you.”
“I appreciate that, I really do. But—”
“I don’t see why we couldn’t just go on like before.”
Anger fueled me with enough energy to raise my voice. “Because it wasn’t real. Nothing’s real with you, Rhinegold. You want a princess, go marry the princess of England, or wherever they still have princesses. Or some Disney film, they’ve got lots of princesses for little kids.”
Rhinegold put my hand down, and sat back, not touching me. In a frighteningly quiet voice, he said, “I understand.”
“I doubt it. And tomorrow morning I’m calling Greco.”
“Greco?”
“I’m accepting his offer.”
“You—”
“Yeah, since I’m not a princess, I might as well be a whore. One of us can say it.”
The word sliced my throat like a razor blade, but too late to turn back now. Rhinegold tried to love me, but he couldn’t. Not when living a normal life felt to him like surrendering to his father. To letting a king chop his head off. Like a hero letting the bad guys win.
As though going to college was the equivalent of Sauron taking over Middle Earth. Only to Rhinegold.
“I’m sorry,” I added.
I expected some kind of argument. But Rhinegold just said, “Okay.”
He stood up, then went out, closing the door quietly behind him.
So quietly I barely heard the sound.
Though it clashed in my ears like cymbals through an amplifier turned up all the way.
I couldn’t have the man I loved, who was as lost inside his fantasies as any movie hero on a quest, so I may well take the money.
The old rich dude also just wanted to live out his fantasies, his perverted desires.
I didn’t have to love him, just let him satisfy himself inside me.
He wouldn’t mistake his dreams for true love.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
At Watch in Donuts Diner
Rhinegold drove to the nearest gasoline station, filled the tank of the brown Mazda, and headed to the nearby Steak ’n Shake.
After four days of hospital food on a hit or miss basis, ravenous hunger took over. A triple steakburger, plus two bowls of chili deluxe. A chocolate shake.
The waitress’s blue eyes bugged out when he gave her his TakHomaSak order: three bowls of chili deluxe and three hot chocolates. In the bathroom, he took his extra pair of thick wool long johns, and put them on below his jeans. And a second sweatshirt below his winter parka. He slipped his ski mask over his head.
Then he returned to the Englewood Gardens Apartments parking lot. He parked in a far corner, away from the part the windows of SeeJai’s mother’s apartment overlooked.
But he could still see everybody who went into or out of the front door.
With stomach full to bursting, he felt fortified against the evening chill already dropping down close to zero.
Fortunately, no snow fell. However, the mist of his exhalations froze on the insides of his windshield so often he had to keep clearing off the thin frost with a Lucite scraper.
Wind shook the small Mazda back and forth. Air whistled through the cracks between the windows, like the screechings of small demons. He huddled into a ball, knees to his chest, shivering.
Eventually he switched on the ignition and ran the heater until sweat formed on his forehead. He also ran the windshield wipers to clear off slush. Then shut the engine off. He didn’t want anybody to notice the exhaust coming out of the tailpipe of a parked car. The apartment complex security guards might check him out, or just call the cops.
He tried to doze, but couldn’t relax.
When he closed his eyes, he saw Greco and Ami. He practiced how he would cut them up.
But he had no sword or knife. Not even a gun.
His lower left arm ached, but he ignored the pain. It wasn’t infected, just too cold to heal.
Like his heart.
He entertained himself by replaying movies in his mind.
The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
The White Witch sure seemed to be winning in Cromwell, keeping the entire city wrapped in a what sure seemed eternal winter.
The White Witch. The Snow Queen. The Others north of the Westeros Wall of ice.
Snow demons surrounded the car, looking at him through the windows, their faces distorted by the cold-plated glass, laughing and taunting. Zooming by on sleds and horse-drawn sleighs.
They could anger him, but not hurt him.
He was on a mission to save SeeJai. His mission protected him.
After dawn the next morning, he forced himself to stay awake and watch the front door. No telling when she would wake up and call Greco.
For the money referring SeeJai to the perverted billionaire was worth to him, Greco wouldn’t refuse SeeJai’s call unless he was just too unconscious and blitzed.
SeeJai left the apartment entrance later in the morning than Rhinegold expected. He hoped that meant she got lots of sleep, even though he didn’t. Never mind.
She wore a pair of brown slacks, her high black rubber boots, and woolen brown coat. Plus a stocking cap pulled over her head. Good. Even with the sun out, she needed to keep her head covered.
A winter goblin rode on her shoulders, though of course she wouldn’t notice it. She just felt an overriding compulsion to give herself to the troll Greco, never mind the consequences.
Knowing where she was headed, he switched on the engine and left via the back entrance to the parking lot.
The trick would be finding an inconspicuous place close to the entrance to the Mahagony Motel, where he could watch her without Greco or any of the street scum noticing him.
He found a parking space several blocks south of Bourbon Square, off Madmonkshighway, in front of a tattoo, piercing, and hair shaving and dyeing parlor occupying the space of a former 7-Eleven.
Across the street from the bus stop, Rhinegold stepped into a Donuts Diner, and scored an empty seat at the tiny round formica table in front of window. He sipped steaming hot chocolate and nibbled at the squares of St. Louis-style gooey butter cake, ignoring the powdered sugar he spilled down his front like snow.
He figured SeeJai was at least twenty minutes behind him. Maybe more, depending on the Saturday morning bus schedule, which cut a lot of local and express bus lines. He checked his watch. If she didn’t show up within an hour, he’d make a new plan.
But he knew SeeJai was headed for The Mahagony Motel just north of Bourbon Square.
Greco.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Back to
The Mahagony Motel
The only open seat on the Madmonkshighway bus heading south was next to a woman who must have weighed at least four hundred pounds. And she had wore several layers of winter coats.
Leaving me not even half a space. Even with my little ass, I nearly fell into the aisle with every bump.
She smelled strongly of rotten fish, cheap perfume, and gum infections.
The bus heater didn’t work, so I distracted myself from my shivering by blowing smoke rings with my breath.
In the backseat, a homey sat with a ghetto blaster in his lap letting loose with a solid run of cannons going off at two hundred decibels.
Against the rules, but lots of bus drivers were too afraid of getting shot to enforce the rules.
The joys of public transportation.
Never mind. Soon I’d have plenty of money, and could buy a car.
The heater would work. I’d play only the music I wanted to hear. I’d have plenty of elbow room. It would smell like a new car, because it was a new car.
And I’d never again go down this stretch of Madmonkshighway.
I held the vision of money out in front of me, keeping me heading toward it.
It glowed with a gold aura.
I ignored all my doubts, the little voices telling me to stop and think.
Georgie warned me not to trust Greco. I knew he meant well, but also realized Georgie knew about only street-level hookers. Crack whores on the corner, not sophisticated high class escorts for wealthy men.
Once Greco and Ami introduced me to Ami’s old acquaintance, they’d take their money and get out of my life. That woman would be in charge of me, my mamasan, not Greco or Ami.
Besides, Georgie was dead.
My best—only—friend was Areetha.
She hated prostitutes, but she would understand why I couldn’t turn down fifty thousand a month.
I bet if Areetha had this same chance, she’d jump on it. She knew the dangers ’hoes faced. Drugs. Beatings from pimps. Psycho killer tricks. Rape, assault, and robbery by customers. Arrest by honest cops. Beatings, rape, and extortion from crooked police. Small-time street robbers. AIDS. Pregnancy. The clap and lice. Everything you see on TV shows, and more.
But, if she could make fifty thou plus a month just by cooperating with only one man in a safe way, far away from the street, every other month …
That was all. Sex once every eight weeks. Six times a year.
Fewer times than Rhinegold bedded me in one week.
Mom wouldn’t like the idea of her daughter screwing a guy for money, but she’d never know. And she needed the money for medicine, a decent hospital if Georgie’s death plunged her back into a deep depression, and a psychiatrist and counseling for the rest of her life. The best were expensive. They wouldn’t take Medicaid or Obamacare.
Just that morning, she refused to leave her bed, talk, or eat. She swallowed a few sedatives, closed her eyes, and then totally ignored me.
I left her a ham and egg sandwich in the refrigerator, but I felt 99.99% sure it’d still be there when I got back.
I hoped she would get past that in a few days, but if not, she needed to go back to the hospital. And for how long, this time?
Rhinegold hated me, and I couldn’t blame him, but what else could I do?
He helped me get through the past four days, but he wanted to live in Middle Earth or Narnia or wherever his mind decided to escape to.
Why would anyone want to spend so much time in a delusion created by someone else, many of them now dead?
Rhinegold spent more time thinking about Middle Earth than that old dude who wrote those books.
I needed Rhinegold in real life. By my side. Every day. For months and years to come.
Not as a wannabe knight/rogue samurai/dragon slayer/warrior/gunslinger/wizard/hero, but as a 21st century man sharing life in the 21st century with me, not a bunch of fairy tales.
And he refused.
Leaving me alone.
I had to take care of myself, as well as Mom.
And Mom and I needed money.
Not silly delusions.
So, despite the iron pipe twisting in my gut like a serpent, I remained on the southbound bus, headed toward the stop in front of Bourbon Square.
After I stepped down from the bus, I froze, staring up at the unlit neon sign arching like a bridge joining the two orange brick pillars on either side of the street leading into the old-school sin center of Cromwell.
I took a deep breath. The chilled air dried my tongue, and penetrated my throat.
I could still turn back. Did I really want to do this?
No.
But I wanted the money. Money didn’t come free. Even lotto jackpots required buying a $2 ticket, and more good luck than most people experienced in a hundred years.
As I walked toward The Mahogany Motel, where Greco waited—no doubt anxiously, wondering if I’d back out at the last moment—for my arrival so he and Ami could introduce me to her acquaintance, and then to the rich trick—a south wind blew at my back, hurrying my heavy, reluctant feet.
I nodded to Mr. Patel. He said nothing to me as I ducked under the wood crossbar and entered the Mahogany’s parking area.
Several teenaged boys used snow shovels to fill big black plastic garbage bags with snow, then dragged them outside, down the sidewalk, and dumped them onto an already-huge pile at the street corner.
Another boy cleared snow off Greco’s black Mercedes Benz.
To reach Greco’s office I still had to wade through drifts higher than my knees.
The smell and heat smacked me like a baseball bat in my face, even worse than two months ago.
Like walking into an iron foundry. Every square inch of my skin burst into itchy sweat, while the desert reptilian stench made my heart thump faster, and released hormones all urging me to turn and run. I tasted panic in the back of my throat, like snake manure.
The stacks of terrariums lined all the walls, leaving clear only the front door and what I assumed was a bathroom door.
I saw only a few snakes, draped from bare sticks. One shiny green, the other mottled brown, with red designs.
Still wearing his black leather pants and shirt, and black cape, Greco sat at his desk, sipping another Dewars White Label on the rocks.
“Have one?” he asked in a croaking voice. Pink slime oozed out of his nose, but he didn’t seem to notice until it fell to the desk next to his glass. He flashed me a looked, then wiped it up with a grimy handkerchief.
I felt a brief stab of guilt. Once Greco got a large amount of cash, he might not stop drinking and snorting snow until his heart stopped.
“No, thanks.”
“Just one for the road,” he said in an apologetic tone of voice. “Ami ought to be here in a moment.”
“What’s the plan?” I asked, more to keep myself from looking at all the snakes, lizards, and scorpions surrounding us, than because I cared.
“I drive you, me, and Ami to meet her buddy Melissa at a Denny’s up north,” he said. “Melissa likes you, she arranges a meeting with the client.”
Client. As though this rich old fart was just a customer of professional services.
“He likes you,” Greco went on, “he gets the cash and gives it to this Melissa. And her to us. And then you’re in her stable. Until then, you hang with me and Ami. Don’t worry, we’ll treat you fine. Wouldn’t want to spoil the package for the client.”
Inside, I shuddered. Package. Client. I wasn’t used to this. I didn’t like it. I didn’t want it.
But I wanted the money.
“Too bad you let Rhinegold stick his dick in you,” Greco went on in a casual voice. He expressed more emotion when reminding Rhinegold how many days left until the first baseball game in the spring. “The guy would pay a nice bonus for a real virgin. But these days, hot virgins are even harder to come by than short, skinny half-butchy but pretty types like you.”
That’s when Rhinegold threw open the doo
r.
“Get out!” he yelled at me.
“Rhinegold!” Greco shouted. He sounded happy to see Rhinegold.
Rhinegold grabbed my shoulder, and pulled me back.
I jerked it away from him. “Go away,” I told him. “Go back to Middle Earth.”
Greco pointed his finger at us with one hand while holding his Dewars on the rocks with the other, and grinned. “Now, now, no lovers’ quarrels here.”
“You can’t do this,” Rhinegold told me.
“I’m doing it.”
“You need money, you know what I make in my business … “
The snakes in the terrariums slithered out of their hiding holes. Rattlers shook their tails. Lizards skithered over the glass walls. Something bumped the terrarium with its nose.
“Fairy gold.”
“SeeJai, you can’t do this.”
A new odor fouled the air. In their excitement, some snake or lizard emitted a horrid stink, perhaps to ward off enemies. Or just a scaly fart.
“Go back, Rhinegold. Go back to your princess. And your fairies and hobgoblins. Be the Gold Knight. You’re not a hero here.”
Greco must have realized our fight was serious, and Rhinegold didn’t want me to become a hooker for the rich guy, because he reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a gun.
A big and mean and ugly shining revolver. That’s all I knew about guns.
“Leave her alone!” Greco shouted to Rhinegold.
He didn’t listen, just grabbed my shoulder again, trying to drag me to the door.
I jerked in the opposite direction. I couldn’t break his grip, but I fought it.
“Last time!” Greco shouted with the gun aimed at Rhinegold. “Leave her alone. Get the hell out of here.”
“I won’t let you—!” Rhinegold shouted, still gripped my winter coat.
The explosion of sound took me by total surprise. Rhinegold let go of me, so I zoomed toward the wall, twisting just in time to hit the bathroom door instead of the shaking stacks of terrariums.
