The Girl on Prytania Street

by Kira Saito

  “Let me guess, this was your first time, wasn’t it?”

  I hesitated. I felt silly all of a sudden to admit the truth to her. To say the words out loud was to acknowledge how naïve I was.

  “How much was the price of the wine?” she asked.

  “Thirty grand. What does that have to do with anything?”

  “You accepted a thirty-grand bottle of wine and thought that the night would end in a chaste goodnight kiss?”

  “But he … He liked me …” There were laws against this sort of thing, weren’t there? Yet there she was telling me that I should have known better. What sort of parallel universe was I living in?

  “Honey, let me give you some unsolicited advice. Men typically don’t buy young girls expensive presents expecting nothing in return. That’s why places like this bar exist. You made a non-verbal contract when you accepted that wine. You did know that, didn’t you? You think the police will actually going to press charges against someone like Nigel Thomas?”

  My mouth opened and closed but I was unable to express how utterly humiliated I felt and how repulsive I found her particular worldview. “You can keep your advice to yourself. It didn’t happen the way you think it happened. He likes me … I know he does.” He couldn’t have faked all of those emotions.

  Her eyes lingered on my bare arms, which I suddenly realized were covered in bruises. “It doesn’t look like he likes you, honey. Can I get you some ice?”

  Horrified, I stared at my arms which were decorated in thumb and finger prints that clearly belonged to Nigel. “I was drunk, he must have tried to hold me up when I fell over.” I blocked out the memory of him asking me to do cocaine with him and the various scenes that came afterward.

  “I’m going to give you some more unsolicited advice, stop making excuses for him. It’s only going to get worse. I see it all the time. The men and women who frequent this place have a vast appetite for depravity at all its levels. They have all the money, power, and influence in the world, the only thing they don’t have is your soul, but if you let him, this guy is going to rob you of yours. It’s a hobby for the big boys. Telling you this can cost me my job, but you’re so young and I can see that you’re a good girl. You don’t need to be a part of this lifestyle.”

  “You’re right, your advice is unsolicited. I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for all of this. If you don’t mind, I have to get home.” I grabbed my jacket and ran outside not caring that it was freezing. It should have ended there. I shouldn’t have ever let him touch me again. However, the things we do in the name of what we think is love are often irrational.

  I should have taken the waitresses’ advice and never looked back because it did get worse. Much worse. He would become my biggest addiction, one that would take me years to recover from. Of course, I never told anyone what had happened because I had been too ashamed. Instead, I made excuses for him and justified his behavior as something that just happened to grown-up women who decided to drink with men in bars. Who would have believed me? It was my fault for pursuing him, wasn’t it? The terms sexual harassment, rape, and those other scary terms weren’t applicable in this situation. They were strange, foreign words that happened to other women. He was powerful, famous and he wanted me. Next to him, I was a small fish, but I could become bigger. The memory of the ice, snow, wind, and humiliation pulled me back into the moment.

  I re-examined the pictures of Zoe and my knees trembled. I hadn’t been there for her. I hadn’t taught her the things that a good mother would have taught her. These days, the lectures didn’t end at not talking to strangers; they should have ended at not letting strangers get into your pants and then not letting them take nude pictures of you and publishing them online. I should have taught her how to kick predators in the balls if they ever suggested messing with her. But then again, how was I supposed to have taught her these things? If I hadn’t been strong enough to refuse Nigel, how in the world did I expect her to have refused Jay? The fault hadn’t been hers. It had been mine. I hadn’t protected her.

  I glanced out of the window and stared at the tomb with the metal cross. “Lestat, if you don’t come to me, I’ll come to you,” I said. “Liberate me, my sweet Prince,” I said as I collapsed onto the bed. Voices of happy, carefree children outside my window wafted into the room.

  “Shirley Evans, you find your own Prince. Prince Miguel of the District of the Gardens is mine!”

  “You’re wrong Melissa Mathers! He loves me!”

  They both let out little giggles of sheer delight and my heart broke a million times over because I knew that fairy tales only ended in tragedy. Soon, they would find that out the hard way.

  Chapter Eleven

  Richard

  “Lunch was amazing,” said Senator Winner as he drank the last of his espresso.

  “You liked it?” I asked watching his expression carefully. You had to with these guys, they said one thing but usually meant another. If you wanted to know how they actually felt, you had to be on the lookout for every subtle twitch and gesture they made when they thought you weren’t looking.

  “I can honestly say that this bistro is becoming one of my all-time favorites. I love the fact that I can step out and enjoy a decent meal without being hounded.” He was fishing for compliments and clearly wanted me to tell him how mighty he was. He Tweeted his every move, what did he expect the public to do?

  “If you like us, help spread the word. Follow us on social media.”

  “I already do. I love your Instagram page. The humor, how it catches the mood of this place perfectly. Listen, a bunch of my buddies from D.C. are in town next month for the conference on climate control. I was wondering if you guys would be up to hosting a private party for a group of fifty. Nothing fancy.”

  “We can arrange that. Let me know the exact dates and I can send over some sample menus for the party.”

  “That would be fantastic.” He gave me a wide smile and placed a generous tip on the table. “Congratulations on your upcoming wedding to Anita, she is a fantastic woman.”

  “She is, I’m blessed.”

  “You sure are. Catch you later, Richie.”

  I watched him as he stepped onto the sweltering pavement.

  “Good job, Richard,” said Anita.

  “I didn’t see you there.” She emerged from the shadow.

  “You know me, always watching. That man is gaining more influence within the political world, if you can secure his business that means great things are in store for us.”

  “With you by my side how can they not?” I gave her a soft kiss on the mouth.

  “I have a meeting to attend to. I’ve left Sara with the nanny. I’ll see both of you tonight,” she said as she headed out the door.

  I gave her a small wave and watched as she strutted across the pavement turning heads as she passed by. She was so different from Kate, so self-assured, so determined. She didn’t need to be protected like Kate had. When I had been weak, Anita had always been my rock. I remembered the first time we had met, it had been shortly after Kate and I had started dating.

  “Hey Richard, someone from corporate is here. She wants to see you, buddy. I think you’re in trouble. You haven’t been smuggling any espresso beans, have you?”

  “Not that I know of I,” I said as I undid my apron. I had a healthy distrust of anyone from corporate. I didn’t want to lose this gig. I had finally found a decent apartment and a girl who I knew was different. It wasn’t manly to admit it, but she drove me crazy.

  I walked into the back office and was surprised to see an attractive woman who appeared too young to be a corporate suit sitting behind the desk. She rose to greet me and gave me a bright smile. “Hi, I’m Anita Catsberg,” she said with the type of confidence and authority that matched her appearance. It was the lady herself. The one whose name was behind almost every successful restaurant, investment firm and any other business that was worth mentioning in this town.

  I ext
ended my hand. “I’m Richard Givens, am I in trouble?” I asked praying that they hadn’t noticed I had exactly one cup of coffee on the house every morning.

  “No, nothing like that. Have a seat.”

  I sat down keeping my best poker face on display. “What is this about?”

  “We’re doing a routine employee satisfaction survey, and we simply wanted to know how you’re holding up at Zen’s Pot?”

  “I can’t complain. Life’s never been better. You guys just about saved my ass.”

  She smiled genuinely. “Your resume was brutally honest, we like that at headquarters.”

  “Yeah, I guess when you come from nothing putting it all on the line makes you seem more reliable.” She was easier to talk to than I had expected. She seemed like a real person rather than a corporate shill.

  “Well, our organization is proud to employ the disadvantaged population. Give them a chance at a decent life, help them build a career. The Catsberg name takes pride in making a positive contribution to society.”

  “That’s noble, but I’d be lying if that is why I accepted this job. You guys own all the big-name restaurants in town, and I want to get a piece of that pie. I’m a decent cook, and if I take some classes, I know I can rise to the top.”

  She smiled. Her eyes lit up. “See that honesty is what we’re looking for. Thank you, Richard. I’ll put your name down on the list of potential candidates for promotion. Our restaurants are always looking for decent managers. Who knows where you’ll be in a few years. Maybe you can even start up your own place down the line.”

  “Really?” I gave her my most shameless smile, the one I typically reserved for Kate before we had sex.

  “Yes, really.” She rose and extended her hand again. I gave it a firm shake and imagined how my life would look like five years from now.

  She was the first person I wanted to tell, now we had a shot at a real future. “Babe, I need to tell you something,” I said after we made love on the clean sheets I had finally managed to buy.

  “You’re buying me Chinese take-out? I’ll go for the fried rice and veggie spring rolls.”

  “Order mentally taken, but I’m not thinking about food right now.”

  “Shame, I’m always thinking about food these days. Food has become glorious again and pretty soon I’m going to be fat as a whale. Out with cocaine and in with blueberry muffins, brownies, cheesecake, quiche and mozzarella sandwiches that my boyfriend smuggles for me.”

  It was corny as hell, but she looked so damn beautiful with the moonlight bouncing off of her shiny black hair. Her blue eyes were full of life, possibility, and hope. She looked like one of those characters that she was always reading about in those books of hers. Smart, witty, and so damn sexy without even realizing it. I was turning into a damn poet.

  Since we had started dating, she had kicked the coke habit and was much healthier. We had that impact on each other. We forced one another to give a damn about ourselves. I was even learning how to read and write, which was the one thing I had no ambition in taking up until now. I knew I had found an equal and I wasn’t about to let her ever get away. She was strong, stronger than she knew but it was obvious that she needed someone to watch out for her and I was running for that position. “I’m thinking about the future,” I said casually not letting on that I was nervous as hell.

  “As in what you’re going to order from Kung’s Palace? Chicken. Always go for the chicken.”

  “No, as in I want us to be more than a casual thing. I want to take care of you …”

  She tossed her head back and let out a laugh. “Take care of me. What century are you living in? Besides, I’ve had enough of the Mr. Darcy types.” Her eyes got dark and listless for a split second. I didn’t press for any explanations. We never got into the nitty-gritty of our pasts, but I knew that she was just as alone as I was.

  “Look, Miss Independent, what I’m saying is that I don’t have much to offer right now, but we can be one another’s people. I can watch your back, and you can watch mine if you want to.”

  “You know, that doesn’t sound half-bad. I’ll take you up on the offer. Does this mean you’re going to keep on stealing muffins for me until I become a Pulitzer Prize-winning author?”

  “You’ll never go hungry if you stick with me. I’m serious, Kate.” She was silent for a few minutes. “It’s not only about food, you’ll have a friend forever.”

  “I accept your proposal,” she said covering my mouth in a kiss.

  “You sure are easy,” I said grinning hoping to cover up how relieved I was that she hadn’t told me off.

  My phone buzzed pulling me back into the moment. It was Kate. I picked up. Her voice was groggy and faraway. “Richard, see I wasn’t lying. The pictures are real. They exist. Zoe was … Zoe did … did you see them?”

  My voice was calm and distant as I spoke not willing to let on that I was as devastated as her. “Yes, I saw them, but they don’t prove anything.”

  “Yes, they prove everything. They prove that I’m not crazy. I know it was, Jay. I know it was him. I’ve been right all along. He took advantage of her and then when he got tired of her, he made her disappear. We have to do something. The police refuse to do anything until they have solid evidence.”

  “What do you suggest we do, Kate?”

  “I found a guy in Queens that can kill the asshole for ten grand. If you agree, I’ll fax over those divorce papers this second. The guy accepts Bitcoin, you have the funds. I can pay half upfront, and I’ll pay you back the rest after this gig. ”

  “Jesus, do you hear yourself? How can you even think about doing that? Do you know the implications if we get caught? Besides, the police said that they believe Jay and Zoe had a consensual relationship. They were friends and who knows what else. If that’s true, we can’t kill the kid. We have to let the police take care of this. You yourself said that Zoe claimed those photos were taken with her permission. What if she’s still alive? If we kill him, we’ll never get a confession or further clues as to what happened.”

  “Don’t you care about her? Don’t you care about your own daughter? Don’t you want to murder the person responsible for hurting her? You promised me, Richard, you promised me that you would always keep us safe and you failed. You failed miserably.”

  “Kate, we’ve been over this before so many times. I can’t keep arguing with you. You know I give a damn. I’m her father for Christ’s sake. I take the blame. There I said it. I should have believed you about Jay and Zoe’s extracurricular activities, but I can’t let that guilt kill me. I refuse to give up hope that we’ll find Zoe, but I can’t stop my life. I have Sara and Anita to think about. Do you know how hard it is watching you die in front of my eyes? You’re sick, Kate. You’re sick and as much as we don’t see eye to eye, I can’t lose you too. Go to rehab and get your life on track. You deserve peace. We both do.”

  “I’m not sick! I’m hurting! I’m in pain! Can’t you respect that?”

  “Sick, Kate. You are sick. You’re taking those pills, and you’re thinking about killing someone because you think they hurt Zoe, but you don’t have any solid proof. If that’s not sick, then I don’t know what is.”

  “All you care about is that stupid restaurant of yours and your perfect fiancée and …”

  “Daughter, Kate. I care about Sara. I love my little daughter, and I’m not going to let the past harm her chance at a great future.”

  “You’ve replaced Zoe, haven’t you? You don’t care …”

  “Sick, Kate. Let my words register into your brain. You need help. Let me say that again. You need help.”

  “I’m not sick! The pills help me cope. They make it less painful, don’t you get that? Not everyone has the ability to simply shut off their emotions,” she accused as if I were some heartless robot.

  “I’ve got a busy day. I can’t do this right now. I’m a living man; I’ve got work to do, deals to seal and places to go.”

  “That’s your th
ing, Richard. Always too busy. Maybe if you had been around more, none of this would have happened. I should have never accepted your stupid proposal. I should have never trusted you!”

  “I’m tired of listening to your accusations, good-bye, Kate.” I hung up the phone. She had no right blaming me for being a shitty father. I had been there for her and Zoe from day one. Had I been a reluctant dad? Yes, I could own up to that. When I had found out that Kate was pregnant, I had freaked out like any red-blooded man, but I had always been there through all of the colds, scares, good times, and frustrating times. The truth was, I never thought about having children. It just wasn’t my thing. I had witnessed enough terrible parenting to understand that the cons outweighed the pros, but I had changed my mind the second Kate had told me that we would be parents. The moment I held Zoe in my arms was the happiest goddamn moment of my life.

  Kate needed to grow up and realize that I had kept my end of the bargain. She refused to accept blame for what she had done. The mistakes she had made and the secrets and lies that had driven Zoe away from us both.

  “Mr. Givens, the new chef is here, he would like to meet you. He’s kind of star struck. It’s not every day you get a shot at meeting and working for one of the most influential men in the country,” the HR manager said.

  Pride surged through me as I heard those words. It was true. Various magazines had listed me as one of the most influential men in the country. It was epic. There was talk of me getting to meet the President of the country. Yeah, I was heartbroken, but at the same time, it was one of the happiest times of my life. It was a shame that Kate couldn’t be happy for me. I suppose she was pissed that her career was dead and mine had taken off in ways that I always knew that it would.

  Chapter Twelve

  Kate

  A soft knock on the door pulled me out of my slumber. “Shit,” I muttered wiping away the pool of drool and sweat that clung to my body. I glanced out the window and was relieved to see that the sun was still out, and I hadn’t slept away the entire day. Once I had fallen asleep on Tuesday and woken up on Thursday with no recollection of what had taken place in between those two points in time. When I had regained consciousness, my apartment had been a mess with tomato sauce stuck to the ceiling, rotting vegetables on the counter, and the stench of sour milk that had been left festering out in the summer sun. I must’ve fed myself somewhere in that lost slice of time, hadn’t the faintest idea as to what else I had done. My phone had hundreds of missed calls from Sylvia asking where I was and if I was alive.