Chapter 26: Girls and Goons

Razia, Samantha, and Isa walked down the street like they owned it. That's the way to go in a city like Orchrisus. If you didn’t own where you were, someone else did and that could mean owning you. They walked side by side, with Razia half a step in front of the others. Despite being the shortest and slightest of build, there was no doubt on any passerby’s face that Razia was in charge. Something she didn’t take for granted.

Samantha was too soft, and Isa too sharp to make it too well on their own. While the former understood that and was happy to go along with her friend’s plans, Razia was surprised that Isa was still with them. The dusk-girl was the type of woman who seemed to prefer to be alone, without anyone else’s rules or expectations holding her back. Still, out of the past week, Isa showed up on all but two of the days. Razia didn’t ask where she went those nights, and Isa didn’t volunteer the information.

“Remind me again why we’re going to the ass end of the city tonight?” Isa sniffed. She may be going along with them, but she had the uncanny ability to make everything she said sound like a complaint.

“The Fighting Beetle’s big,” Razia replied without missing a step. “Full of potential customers, and maybe other girls to meet up with and find a better, more permanent solution. Different clientele, too. More men who will want to celebrate or be comforted, depending on what happens to their bug.”

“And you don’t think the girls who normally work there won’t be upset to see us tread on their toes?” asked Isa. “Especially if the place is big and outside our normal bubble.”

It was Samantha who piped up, as bubbly and happy sounding as usual. “The city’s big enough for us all to eat,” she said. “I’m not worried. The past bit’s been great!”

That was something Razia agreed with. The past week was as smooth and problem-free as it was possible to get. Save for, of course, the fight that started it all. The fight that made these wandering nights possible. Razia still felt bad for how clueless Quentin was about what he inadvertently started, but he wouldn’t have to be clueless for much longer.

“Yeah, great,” Isa scoffed. “Spending each night with that ugly monster hanging around, staring. How many people have avoided us because of him?”

Razia was having none of it. “According to Maria, you’d probably still be recovering from whatever those men were going to do to you if he hadn’t stepped in. Why don’t you cut the crap and say what your real problem is?” Her raised voice attracted some looks of people walking past them, but no one stopped the trio.

Isa didn’t answer at first. When Razia looked at her, Isa’s face was twisted into a disgusted sneer, but she looked thoughtful. Meeting Razia’s gaze, she looked down. “I guess,” she said, sighing with all of the resigned disgust of someone who knows they’re not getting out of this, “I’m waiting for him to decide he wants more and we have to give it.”

“He won’t,” Samantha said vehemently. “Razia’s already called dibs. Everything’s been great since he’s been around. I’m making nearly as much as I was at the Silk Lounge, only I don’t have to worry as much. We’re a smaller group, all friends and no bitches!”

Isa let out a bitter laugh. “Yes, because the kind of man to hang around women like us is exactly the kind of man to show restraint and respect. You really think he’s any different from the rest of them? Please.”

Razia shrugged. “If you don’t want to hang around him, you could always go somewhere else. You don’t have to come with us every night.” They finally made it. Just ahead was the massive building they were headed. Big, colorful letters carved from wood spelled out ‘The Fighting Beetle’ along with an artistic depiction of a behemoth beetle raising up.

“Easy for you to say. You’re a fucking tourist.”

Razia stopped so suddenly that Samantha bumped into her. She whirled around on Isa, eyes flashing. “What the hell do you mean by that.”

Isa didn’t look away this time. She gathered herself up, looming over Razia, arms crossed over her chest. “You’ve talked about the kind of clients you’ve seen. Rich men, politicians, even princes back at home if you’re to be believed.”

“Trade princes,” Razia corrected.

“Whatever,” Isa sighed. “Point is, you don’t have to be going around the same places as we do. You don’t have to find as many clients in a night just to make ends meet. You’re a tourist, slumming it up in the taverns with us. Unless you’re full of shit, you could leave at any time. You’re not struggling like the rest of us.”

The worst part, Razia reflected, was that she was entirely right. “That’s not true,” Razia said with a twinge of guilt. “We’ve all got choices. I might have a bit more choice than you, but I’m happy with this choice. I’m happy working with you girls, and serving the clients we do.” That much at least was true. “I’m here for the long haul, working alongside you both as long as you’re good with having me.”

“And of course we’re happy to have you,” Samantha said, shooting a challenging look at Isa. It was the closest Samantha came to giving any of her friends a dirty or upset look. “It’s nice to have fun with friends instead of just pushing ourselves all the time.”

Isa looked between them, frown growing by the second. Eventually she capitulated, sighing and saying, “Whatever. But I’m not going to give a single Qala to him.”

“Quentin,” Razia said pointedly. “His name is Quentin. Going out of your way to avoid saying his name isn’t going to make him any less real or keep him away.”

“...Fine. I’m not going to give a single Qala to Quentin.”

Razia shrugged. “No one’s asking you to. Everyone who’s been doing it has been doing it voluntarily. If you want to enjoy the benefit of his protection without paying him, he’s not going to care.”

“Does he even know?” Isa shot back.

“...Let’s go inside,” Razia said, grinning guiltily.

There was an art to finding the right place to work. As big as Orchrisus was, they couldn’t work anywhere they pleased. Not if they wanted to earn enough to thrive. There were plenty of women who worked out of their homes, servicing their neighborhoods and surrounding areas. There was no shame in that, Razia felt. Just the opposite. They lived humble lives, not making waves and just trying to get by. Arguably, that was the most common and even purest form of sex work. Not too different from a farmer breaking their back every day to grow enough to feed their family. Those who worked like that stayed out of the busier parts of the city, and so they didn’t have to compete nearly as much.

For a woman like Razia, Isa was right. She had countless places to go and angles to use. After all, going for a politician or an advocate was much different than finding work with the laborers and common men found in the taverns. The normal rules for safety applied, but everything else was based on what you could pull off, and how you could approach richer, more powerful men and attract them. Men like that could afford to be choosy, even if in the end they were still ruled by their cocks.

That left taverns and inns for the middle of the road girls who were neither rich nor poor. The people found at these places often lived there and had a room of their own. If not, it wasn’t hard to strike up a bargain with whoever ran the place for use of a couple of rooms for some quick shards. Someone would clean it before it was used as housing for the night, and everyone walked away happy and prosperous.

Some girls would find a place that suited them and set up camp there, like Samantha and Isa had with the Silk Lounge. Of course, the Silk Lounge was a good example of why you couldn’t always trust in one place to be decent. That was why Razia kept on the move, and her girls followed. Anyone after her or Samantha would keep guessing where she showed up next. But it was more than that. The way Razia saw it, they weren’t scavengers, they were hunters. Hunters always followed where their prey roamed.

Maria was already there waiting for them. She was often among the first to arrive, after making sure her teenage daughter was set for the night and wouldn’t get into trouble. She waved Razia over, and the three sat down at a table. Later when more people showed up they’d push a couple of tables together and claim part of the tavern as their territory for the night, but for now it was just the four of them.

“I already got us a few rooms,” Maria announced as they sat down. “Three of them, for us to rotate in and out.”

“Excellent!” Razia beamed. That was one more room than they were expecting to get. That meant more girls could work at one time, while at least one remained down below to watch over their stuff and be there for stragglers to find and join them. She reached into her purse and handed some shards over to Maria. It was likely to be a little more than the rooms were worth, but that was fine. Razia was going to look after her girls.

“Good,” said Isa, shrugging off her purse and slipping it into her chair to claim it. “No need to waste any time.” She walked away from them, wandering around the place on the prowl.

“What’s the hurry?” Maria asked, watching Isa disappear into the crowd.

“She’s got an appointment with the flesh sculptor down at the temple,” Samantha said, sitting beside Maria and giving her a one armed hug. “They’re doing her throat and voice next, and it’s not cheap.”

“And she’ll be off the streets for a week or two, recovering,” Razia added, frowning. Isa wanted nothing to do with the little group collective they had going on. She’d hang around them for safety in numbers, but she wasn’t going to share any of her earnings and she didn’t want a single half qala piece from any of them.

That didn’t stop Razia from considering slipping Isa some of her earnings, just to make sure she was okay. Even without the momentum they had going now, not having to pay for her lodgings was making it so much easier to focus on helping the other girls. The way she wanted to before she’d fucked everything up and came running north.

“Anything new with you?” Razia asked Maria, as if she hadn’t seen her just two nights before.

Maria’s face lit up. “I wasn’t going to say anything in case it’s too soon, but...I might have a patron.”

Samantha let out a delighted squeal. “That’s fantastic! What’s he like? Handsome? Rich? Kind?”

Shaking her head and chuckling, Maria said, “He’s in his sixties. Nice enough. Spent half the time complaining about his wife. I asked him why he doesn’t go for someone younger and he said…” Maria screwed up her voice and lowered her voice to a gruff growl, “When they’re barely more than kids they want want want want want. There’s no end of it. You look like a woman who knows her blessings and is grateful.”

Razia cocked her head to the side. “It’d be real easy to take that as an insult. So what you’re saying is he’s as honest as men get?”

Maria laughed. “Yeah. He didn’t say so directly, but I think he wants someone who reminds him of a time when he was happier. Probably before he made the money he did. I think he wants something long term, too. This could be my meal ticket!”

The other two made sounds of understanding. While the men very obviously wanted sex, that was rarely the only thing they were looking for. A smart whore knew how to find out what it was and how to deliver it. “This calls for celebration,” Razia said. “Wine and dinner, on me.”

Wine and dinner weren’t much when they were having similar times every night, but that’s not how Razia saw it. It was only a matter of time before her temper got her in trouble and sent her running again. This was the calm before the storm, and she was more than happy to actually enjoy it this time instead of going looking for trouble again. There was something to be said for waiting and seeing, instead of just acting.

Not that she didn’t act. After a light dinner, it was time to work. Isa stopped back before they were done to ask about their rooms, and not long after that Razia had the opportunity to make use of one. Her first client of the evening was a middle aged man with simple tastes. She sucked his cock for a few Qala and was back in fifteen minutes to wash her mouth out and be ready for the next client.

Her next client wanted it all, and took the full hour she offered to get it. They started slow and built up to a frantic, blistering frenzy. They used the last ten minutes to cuddle with her head on his chest, letting them both come down while she thought ahead to the rest of her night. Razia came down after cleaning herself up, pleasantly sore and tired and ready for a small break. In that time, Samantha had found someone and all three rooms were in use. Maria held down their tables, getting up and finding someone of her own when Razia came back.

Before too long, Amy and Jenna joined them, though they had to wait their turn to use the rooms. They weren’t too put off. “You won’t believe what this bitch said to me,” Amy said, jerking her head at Jenna who looked disgusted.

“Me? You’re the one who can’t seem to decide between pink and purple. They’re interchangeable, Ames,” Jenna said, rolling her eyes.

Amy’s jaw dropped. “Interchangeable? How. Dare. You.”

“Good to see the two of you are in fine form as usual,” Razia said, settling back as they began talking over each other in a rush. For being best friends, they loved to argue. Neither of them paid any attention to her once they got into it. She idly wondered if they would ever start dating one another or if they were doomed to be frenemies. At least they didn’t make things worse for the rest of them. It went on like this, with Razia taking one more full service client. They were all there at the table, taking a breather together when ‘Mr. Q’ finally made his appearance.

“You brought your friends this time, huh?” Razia nodded towards Demetrius and Jonas. Seeing Quentin bring people was a surprise, but a welcome one. Maybe he was coming out of his shell faster than she was expecting after all.

Demetrius’ mixed reaction was honestly amusing as hell, but Razia was on good behavior tonight. For a change. Maria was happy enough to distract the short one, and the boy had immediate eyes for Isa. Razia could hardly blame him, and it tidied things up nicely without her having to lift a finger. That might’ve been the best part. It left her with Quentin, and what looked like a fresh argument between them.

“Are you telling me people think I’m like this asshole?” Quentin gestured at Georgie.

Okay, so this wasn’t how Razia wanted Quentin to find out. “Kinda. Not like him. Better. Your reputation is honestly off to a great start.” She shrugged, knowing there was no real way to salvage this until he got it all out of his system.

“A great start to what, Razia?” Quentin demanded incredulously. She felt bad, but the pained look on his face was honestly kind of funny. He almost looked woozy.

Around them, everyone was watching. The girls were mostly quiet, save for Maria who was trying to distract Demetrius to no avail. The older gladiator looked like he was about to get up and back Quentin up in giving her a piece of their minds. Razia needed to get a handle on this before the night went sour and the illusion was disrupted. Things were still fragile, and she really did owe Quentin an explanation.

“Don’tchoo ignore me, fucker!” Georgie grabbed a bottle off a nearby table and flung it at Quentin’s feet. It shattered and pieces bounced all around the floor. “Get yer bitches and get the fuck outta here. The Beetle’s my stomping grounds and you ain’t welcome.”

Annoyance flooded Quentin’s face and for a second Razia was grateful to the obnoxious pimp for taking the target off of her. That gratitude evaporated the moment Quentin hit the ground. One second he was ready to go off on Georgie, the next he was on the ground, letting out a low moan. Razia couldn’t help but stare blankly, not really understanding what she was seeing. She wasn’t alone. It was several seconds before anyone spoke up and of all people, it was Georgie.

“The fuck’s he doin’, taking a nap? I said for you bitches to get out of here. Now!” Georgie pulled a glass dagger from his belt and pointed it at Quentin. That was a mistake.

Everyone at their table cried out, but Demetrius didn’t hesitate. He was out of his seat and had his fist buried in Georgie’s gut. The dagger clattered to the ground, Georgie himself following soon after. No one, certainly not Georgie, expected that kind of speed from someone as short and squat as him. Demetrius turned on Razia. “I swear to the gods if you got him killed, you’re joining him,” he growled.

Now was hardly the time to be pointing fingers, but Razia wasn’t going to try telling him that. “Yeah, that’s fair,” she said, kneeling next to Quentin. She gingerly touched his shoulder. He let out another groan. That was good. He wasn’t choking, or completely unconscious, or dying horribly. “Quentin? You okay?”

Quentin raised his head, bleary eyed. The smell hit Razia first, mind numbing and pungent. She jerked away from him, waving her hand in front of her face. Razia knew this smell. She wished she didn’t, but once you’ve faced it there was no mistaking it. She stood up.

“Someone drugged him,” said Razia, focusing on Demetrius. “By the smell of his breath, my guess is Juice.”

A collective wince went around the group. Orchrisus Juice, more commonly just called Juice, was the derogatory name for a drug one slipped into someone’s food or drink. It made the imbiber more reckless, with lowered inhibitions and questionable motor control. It was named after the idea that all Orchrisans were pure hedonists, seeking fun over safety. Mostly, it was used to drug someone before raping them.

It was with alarm that Razia realized it was her drink that she’d offered him. Which meant that someone had meant to slip it to her and got him instead. “We need to get out of here, right now,” Razia said.

“That’s what I’m sayin’...” Georgie wheezed from the floor.

“Juice? You’re sure?” Demetrius demanded. At Razia’s nod, he relaxed. “Then he’s gonna be out of it for a few hours. Let’s get him out of here. Hey, Quentin,” he crouched down and threw Quentin’s arm over his shoulder and stood. “Easy now, lad.” Razia took the other shoulder, but it wasn’t necessary. Quentin got his feet under him and looked around, blinking rapidly.

“You okay?” Razia asked him. His head rolled around to look vaguely at her. Recognition dawned in his unfocused eyes.

“Oh, hey Razia. You look niccccce tonight,” Quentin slurred.

Razia couldn’t help but smile. Lowered inhibitions and still he was focused on her without being gross about it. “Thanks sweetie. Let’s get you home and into bed.”

“Bed?” Quentin sounded surprised. After some thought he licked his lips and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “I think I’m ready.” He puckered his lips and went for Razia’s cheek, missing her entirely.

Biting her lip to avoid laughing she nudged him in the ribs. “No Quentin, not like that. Not like this. Home, okay?” Razia craned her head to see Demetrius. “You got him?”

“Yeah, I got him,” Demetrius growled, shifting Quentin’s weight. He was a perfect height to hold Quentin up like this. Razia wisely decided to not point that out.

“Wait,” Isa said, stopping them before they’d taken more than a few steps. “What about us? Where are we supposed to go now? We’ve spent the last week following you around, and now you’re just going to leave us?” She stood, glaring at Razia.

Razia glared right back at her. “What happened to not wanting to be a part of this?” Cursing to herself, Razia said, “Look. Come with us if you want, and I’ll think of a place for us to go after. That sound good?”

It was good enough. Razia and Demetrius pulled Quentin along through the tavern, Jonas and the girls trailed behind. Eyes followed the unusual train as they left the building, but no one bothered them on their way out.

The trip was mostly silent, save for whispers in the back as Amy and Jenna argued about the hundredth thing that night and Samantha tried to break it up a couple of times. Razia tried to speak to Demetrius a couple of times, but he just grunted in return and it didn’t take a genius to understand he didn’t want to talk.

After a while, Quentin didn’t need to lean on either of them. He was still wobbly, but he lurched down the street well enough on his own, though it made for an odd display. Razia was glad he was too out of it to notice his hood was down as he walked down the street. People gave them a wide berth. Especially after Quentin started talking more.

“I dunno why we had to leave,” he said again. “We were having fun, right? Let’s go back and watch some Beetle fights.” He tried to turn but Demetrius pushed him along the Boulevard.

“None of that, Quintius,” he said gently. “Let’s get you home.”

“Okay, fine, but then maybe we can pick training back up? I feel good!”

Razia took his hand and squeezed it. “How about we get you some water and food and take it easy?” Despite the distance between them and the bar and Georgie, there was a pit in her stomach Razia couldn’t ignore. She followed her gut and looked over her shoulder. Three poorly dressed men were right behind them. A second later she recognized them.

And they recognized her. Philus met her gaze, grinning. Cold realization hit her. Someone tried to drug her and failed. Instead, they drugged her bodyguard. Philus let out a sharp whistle and all three men charged forward.