Chapter 51: Neighbors

The villa may have been identical in layout, but it already felt different to Razia. Quentin’s home was peaceful and quiet, and that quiet had a weight to it. For all of its size, it was a stark, minimalist place, as closed off and distant as Quentin could be. Even with all of the girls making noise, it was clear they were invaders, disrupting the silence. Quentin may have owned the second house, but it didn’t belong to him. Even only half outfitted, it was far too lively to be his.

Though that was at least in part due to the half a dozen laborers moving furniture and potted plants into the girls’ new home. Razia opened the door to the final bedroom and motioned for the movers to bring in a bed and a dresser. “This is the last of it?” She asked them.

The closest laborer, a burly tanned man named Hector stopped, and so did his partner holding the other side of the bed frame. On top was a plush mattress without any linens, and their arms were clearly twitching after a couple hours of working nonstop. Sweat practically poured off his brows. “No, we still have some tables and chairs to bring in. We’re gonna need a break before those.”

Razia nodded. “Of course. We’ll get some water and fruit out for you.” She got out of their way as they lugged the furniture in, most of the men’s eyes lingering on her as they passed. Just like they’d been doing all day. Razia had been on her best behavior and hadn’t teased or instigated anything. There was too much to do to lose time playing with them.

They set the bed down in the same place in the middle of the room as they had with all the other rooms. Each of them had a bed, a full dresser, a small wash basin and some towels. Other than that, the girls would be free to decorate their rooms as they saw fit, turning it into their perfect place to work. They still couldn’t believe their luck and Razia remained giddy about it as well.

She left them behind and walked through the rest of the villa, towards the garden. All around the atrium were large, leafy ferns and rows of hardy but colorful flowers. Vines wrapped around the four columns around the skylight in a spiral, stopping halfway up. Razia and the girls had come up with ideas of how they wanted the place to look, and Quentin shrugged and made it happen. Razia kept a runny tally of the costs, growing increasingly worried that the next expense would be too much.

Three days of shopping around and setting up their business and not once had Quentin blinked at any of it. Not at the basic necessities, and not for the plethora of rugs and tapestries and even a few sculptures they wanted to make the place more than just a house people went to when they wanted their dick sucked. Together, the girls worked to make the house beautiful. They were very nearly ready.

Razia slipped out to the garden and out the gate. She waved to a group of neighbors who had gathered together and watched as the Fleetfoot couriers brought their purchased wares inside. None of them waved back. This didn’t bother her in the slightest. All it did was make her smile wider as she went in through the other garden and into Quentin’s much more sparse home.

“Hey Sam,” Razia said, coming upon the redhead in the kitchen. “You mind serving up water and grapes for the guys? They’ve been at it for a while.”

“Yeah, sure!” Samantha grabbed Quentin’s only platters and some clay cups and got to work while Razia dipped back out.

While all major decisions hinged on Quentin’s word, it was Razia herself who was in charge of organizing everything and everyone. A task she was more than happy to perform, if she was being honest. Between picking out the furniture and delegating tasks to the other girls, it was everything Razia dreamed of. Everything Piro had promised her and then backed out on. Well, the joke was on him. She got a little burgeoning empire of her own, and she’d bound his hands together. His loss was very much her gain.

“There you are,” Razia said, peeking her head into Quentin’s room. He was in the little toilet room in the corner, wearing only his undergarments. Soap covered part of his face and he held a knife up to his cheek. His eyes met hers in the mirror and he stiffened, but only for a second. “We’re getting pretty close to done for the day, and you really gotta see how it’s coming together.”

Quentin grunted in response. “Alright. I’ll be out in a bit.” He looked at himself in the mirror and made a face. “Can’t believe I let it get as bad as I did. I’m not someone who can pull off a beard.”

Rather than take the hint to leave him alone, Razia came up behind him. “I don’t know about that. No one looks good with a patchy beard, but I can see you in ten years looking dapper and distinguished with a month or two to grow it out.” She smiled at his reflection. If he wanted her to push his boundaries, it was easy enough to know what would do the trick. Being anywhere near naked around her always made him squirm. “You going to cut your hair too? It’s starting to get a bit shaggy.”

He grunted in the affirmative, then shaved away a small line on his cheek. “Long hair’s bad for a fight. Gives them something to grab onto. I’m overdue but it’s a pain in the ass to do on my own.”

Razia raised an eyebrow. “So don’t do it on your own. Samantha cuts her siblings’ hair all the time. Hell, I could do it.”

“I don’t think I want my hair quite as short as yours.”

She laughed, wrapping her arm around his waist. “You should’ve seen me before I came to Orchrisus. I had hair down to my ass in neat, tiny braids.”

Quentin paused. Pulling the knife away from his face he turned to her and said, “I can’t see it. This is just so…well, you.”

“It is now. When I escaped my father’s men, I needed a way to not match the description they had of me. Easiest way of doing it…” Razia mimed slicing her hair off. “It worked, and I’ve kept it like this since. Much nicer in the desert, honestly.”

Quentin’s expression turned thoughtful. “Are you always on the run?”

Yes. No. It was complicated. “Not anymore,” she said with a shrug. “I’m not going anywhere in the foreseeable future. Here, let me.” She took the knife from him and ushered him down to sit on the toilet. Quentin obeyed hesitantly. Razia held up the knife to his cheek and tilted his head back. Sitting, he was now roughly the same height as her.

Carefully she scraped a line of hair from his face, dipping the blade into a basin of hot water before returning to his cheek. Wordlessly she worked, cutting small, smooth lines into his wiry white beard. It only took a couple of minutes to get rid of the rest of it, and she did it in an enjoyable, companionable silence. When she was finished she grabbed a towel and wiped the excess soap from his face. “Much better,” she said, running her thumb over the smooth skin.

Quentin sat very still. Razia noticed it was what he did when he was unsure of what to do, or uncomfortable. He became a statue, as if not moving meant he was safe. Silly man, he was never safe around her. Little moments like this were Razia’s favorite way of teasing him. Seduction was one of her favorite games, and it was as intoxicating as any drug. But it was different with him. Razia didn’t give him suggestions of sex to lead him by the nose. She teased him with glimpses of intimacy, tiny tastes of touch. Each time he froze was another time he was presented with a choice he didn’t know how to make.

“I should get dressed,” he said, standing and breaking contact. This was another round she won, and another round where they both lost. Razia just smiled and waited until he turned around to check himself in the mirror.

“When you do, come on over and take a look.” Razia’s smile turned wicked and before she left, she brought her hand crashing down on Quentin’s ass, making him jump. She laughed and left him there. So far, it was an excellent day.

The look on Samantha’s face threatened to ruin it. “Um,” she said, looking over her shoulder towards the garden. “I think something’s going on outside. They don’t look happy.”

Razia blinked. “Who doesn’t?”

“Everyone?”

Razia walked past Samantha, putting a hand on her shoulder and squeezing as she went. She walked out to the courtyard, which was now a lot more full than she’d ever seen it. The assembly of their neighbors had grown, and some of the guards were now milling about as well. Before she saw them she heard them arguing.

“I don’t give a damn what the bylaws say,” A pompous sounding man in his fifties or sixties all but shouted into the security chief’s face. “We were here first, and we have rights godsdammit!”

Ah, here it was. In truth, she and Quentin had been expecting some kind of blowback from the neighbors. At the very least there would be angry mutterings and maybe someone confronting them about their new business. It made sense that it happened on the day men moved in and out of the commons lugging an absurd amount of furniture while beautiful women milled around their new home. Jenna hid behind the gates of the garden, peeking her head out cautiously. She knew trouble when she saw it.

And trouble saw Razia. A short, shrewish looking woman smacked her husband on the chest and pointed at Razia. A dozen other heads turned her way, staring daggers at her. Nearby guards shifted uncomfortably, looking between Razia and the others. They didn’t want to get involved, but it was clear they expected to have to. If things got ugly, maybe they’d be on her side. She wasn’t counting on it.

“Hi there,” Razia said brightly. “Is there a problem here?”

The pompous man pushed past the exasperated chief and jabbed a finger in her direction. “You’re damned right there’s a problem. You!”

Razia’s mouth dropped in a surprised O and she clutched her chest. “I don’t know what you could mean!” she said, cackling on the inside. “Have I done something to offend?” She could be a good actress when she chose to be. This wasn’t one of those times.

It wasn’t her best quality. Most of the time she could keep her eyes on the prize and play nice until she got what she wanted. Diplomacy was a fine art, but she wasn’t quite an artist. Not when every so often diplomacy was forgotten in favor of stirring the pot and making things worse. For as much as she liked control and skillfully getting what she needed, sometimes she just chose chaos. It was the same impulse that had her robbing crime lords and confronting an executioner with knowledge of his secret identity. Even knowing it would one day likely get her killed, sometimes she couldn’t resist.

“Ever since you started coming around here, things have been worse!” he said, coming closer but not too close. As if she was going to bite him if he didn’t keep at arm’s length. Or maybe strangle her. “First you lead bandits to our doorstep, then you come and go in and out at all hours of the night! And now this.”

“Wait,” Razia held up a finger. “You’re upset because I’m a night person? This seems a bit much, to be honest.”

All of them started talking at once, yelling over each other to be heard.

“You know that’s not what we’re talking about!”

“It’s about decency for crying out loud!”

“...and I don’t want these she-wolves around my kids!”

A hand on her shoulder let her know Quentin had arrived. She looked up at him. He was wearing his shades but not his cloak. He crossed his arms over his chest and stared out at them. “What seems to be the problem, Fred?”

The chief guard turned away from the crowd of angry upper middle class people sighing. “They’re here to protest your purchase of that house and the current occupants.”

“And they don’t like how late we stay up,” Razia helpfully supplied.

Pompous man’s face turned red. “It’s not about that, it’s about you people driving the rest of this area down. This is a good neighborhood, with decent people. Mostly,” he added, sneering at Quentin. Quentin’s expression didn’t change, but Razia knew it still bothered him.

Razia wrapped her arm around Quentin’s waist and grinned. “Are you saying that you don’t want a group of whores living around you guys?”

“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” he said. A chorus of agreements sounded from the people behind him. “This is a good, clean place and we don’t need the likes of you sleazing it up and bringing us down.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Razia scoffed. “Everyone loves whores. Or at least I know some of you do.” She waved at a blonde woman in an expensive dress.”Like Olanna over there. Hi Olanna!”

They all turned around to face Olanna. Olanna shrank, sending a withering glare at Razia who just beamed at the attention. Olanna’s wife didn’t look too happy. Quentin’s hand on her shoulder squeezed, and she squeezed his hip back.

Must you? He seemed to say.

I must! Her squeeze replied.

“We don’t want you here,” The shrewish woman insisted.

Razia shrugged. “I don’t see how that’s our problem. Any of you could’ve bought that house and did whatever you wanted with it. You didn’t, we did, and here we are. Do you think that we should get a say over what happens in your homes, or is it just one sided?”

“Quintius,” Pompous seethed. “Are you going to let her do all of the talking for you? We’re here to talk to you.”

Quentin smiled then, and it was the cold, false smile he presented when he was irritated or upset. It wouldn’t fool anyone, and between that and his hidden eyes he gave off an impression of a relaxed but wary predator. “I don’t know about that, Leonis,” he said. “Seems to me she’s doing a good job. I’m not hearing anything worth replying to.”

They didn’t react well to that. The yelling got louder and louder and a couple of them surged forward, pointing and yelling at them. That got the attention of the guards, who came in between them and formed a human wall to keep everyone apart. Razia wasn’t worried, and it just made the situation juicier. The way she saw it, there was nothing they could do about it other than complain at them. They were just making things worse on themselves.

“Enough already!” The chief guard bellowed. Everyone fell silent. He turned an angry eye to Razia, who had to fight the urge to wink at him. He was possibly one of the only people she needed on their side. “I think people might be less sore about this if you heard their concerns and addressed them,” he said in a voice like a parent talking to unruly children. “Is that acceptable?”

Quentin grunted as Razia said, “Yes, I think so. What concerns are that, Fred?”

Fred pointed to a burly man with a drooping mustache. He cleared his throat and said, “We don’t want strange people coming all hours of the night, wandering around. If we’re to expect your customers coming in and out, that’s going to make the guard’s job of keeping troublemakers out harder.” Voices raised around them, agreeing.

Quentin took this one. “We’re not going to allow any customers out into the commons. The garden gates will remain locked and anyone who tries to get out will be thrown out. We have no intention of letting them interfere with any of your lives.”

“Besides,” Razia added, throwing oil on the fire, “The guards have been used to people coming and going for a while. Between Quentin and your kids? People sneak in and out every night.”

“Wait,” a woman said. “What do you mean our kids?”

Razia shrugged, saying, “I don’t know whose kids belong to whom, but I’ve seen plenty of teenagers slip out late at night when I’m sitting at the fountain. At least two or three a night sometimes.” Or maybe only once or twice, but they didn’t need to know that.

That got a couple of them looking at each other frantically, each wondering if it was one of their kids sneaking out without them knowing. Others weren’t to be deterred. A dark skinned Ramali woman wearing a lot of jewelry chimed in. “If that’s the case, then your business is doubly dangerous. If one of our kids were to venture in --”

“We would throw them out,” Razia interrupted.

Beside her, Quentin nodded. “The only children who might be there will be family of my employees, or maybe working the kitchen. No one under the age of sixteen is to be allowed entrance.”

“But we will be here for when your children grow up and you want to give them a good first time,” said Razia. “In fact, every resident and guard here has a standing 25% discount for our services!”

Beside her, Quentin sighed. Razia shook with silent laughter, leaning into him and hugging him. It was, of course, the wrong thing to say and everyone started speaking up again. The guards at least looked happy. Judging from their faces, it was enough to sway some of them over to her side. Bonus, if they enjoyed themselves it would give them more incentive to keep an eye out for them, maybe.

“As nice as that is, Ms. Rashid,” Fred said, raising his hands to quiet people down. “I can’t be splitting my men’s attention to help keep your business safe.”

“You won’t need to. We’ll have our own private security for the house. You keep watch on the commons and the streets outside and we’ll take care of ourselves.”

That was enough to make Fred just shrug. It seemed like a token complaint anyway, and while the man didn’t look happy with them, he didn’t look antagonistic either. Mostly, he just seemed tired and done with all of this. Her own enjoyment was starting to wane as it went on, but there was still fun to be had. Razia looked around. “Anyone else with concerns?”

Their neighbors glowered at her. A couple of them turned and walked away from the group, muttering to themselves as they went back inside. Including Olanna and her wife, Razia noted with glee. They had some stuff they needed to work out. Maybe it was wrong of her to out her, given she was the one who pointed out where Quentin lived when Razia asked, last month. But then, she shouldn’t have been part of the irritated mob too. She only had herself to blame.

It was Leonis who spoke up again. He looked like he had reached the point where he was ready to strangle her, only to find a calm in the eye of the storm. Looking at them with cold hate in his eyes, he said, “It’s bad enough having to share a neighborhood with a freak like you, Quintius. Did you really have to invite a bunch of whores to come live with you?”

“I think a better question is did he have to buy his girls their own house,” Razia supplied. “And the answer is no. He didn’t have to.” Quentin looked down at her, puzzled. “But he did. For us. Because that’s the kind of guy he is. He’ll look out for a bunch of girls just trying to make a living, and he’ll tolerate canker sores like you without trying to make it worse. Me? I’d just as happily declare war on you and make you as miserable as you’re trying to make us.”

Once more his hand squeezed her shoulder. Tightly this time, and the message was clear: enough. It was too late to stop Leonis from reacting though. “You see, Fred?” he demanded. “Now she’s threatening me. I’ve half a mind --”

“If that!”

Leonis’ sentence trailed off into a garbled scream. He took a step towards her, fist raised in the air. Razia didn’t have time to do much more than widen her eyes in surprise before Quentin pulled her back and put himself between them. Leonis stopped, looking up a few inches at Quentin. Quentin pulled his spectacles off and directed his glare at the man. Razia wondered if Leonis had any clue Quentin probably couldn’t see him too well, or if all he saw was menace.

“Try it, Leonis. It’ll take half of Fred’s men to get me off of you.” Quentin bared his teeth. The gap in the front had a tiny nub of a tooth starting to grow back. Gods, he really wasn’t kidding about that.

Fred had enough. “Leonis, pack it in. If you throw the first punch I won’t interfere. And you Quintius, could you kindly not threaten the other residents?” He put his hand on Leonis’ shoulder. Leonis violently shrugged him off, but seemed to regain his sanity. Holding his hands up in surrender, he backed up.

“Sorry,” said Quentin, sounding anything but. “I can be overprotective.”

Fred grunted. Turning around to address their neighbors, he said, “Alright, that’s enough from all of you. You’re not going to change their minds and they’re not going to change yours. You don’t like it? Go to the magistrate and complain, maybe someone there will listen. But let me make this abundantly clear: any of you start something and the magistrate will laugh you off. Don’t make my job any harder than it has to be.”

While some of them obviously didn’t care for the hired help telling them what to do, the majority of them grumbled and dispersed. Some lingered a little to talk to someone close by, but by unspoken agreement they all vacated the commons. Last was Leonis, who glared at Razia one last time as if willing her to die from all of his venom. She just smiled at him.

“Was all of that really necessary?” Quentin asked, putting his spectacles back on. He was frowning. Or maybe that was his neutral expression. With the shades on it was hard to tell. Razia let out a pleased laugh.

“Probably not, but I had fun. Look,” she let out a sigh. “They were going to be pissed at us no matter what. All I did was make it clear that we’re not going to back down and we’re not going to be bullied or intimidated or do anything different just because they don’t improve. Was any of that wrong?”

Okay, now he frowned. “No,” he said. “I suppose not. But you didn’t have to tweak their noses while doing that.”

“No. I got to tweak their noses.”

“Razia,” he said warningly.

Razia took his hands in hers and tugged on them, pulling him towards their business. “Come on,” she said. “Be mad at me later, but come in and take a look at what we’ve built together. You’re not going to regret it!”

Maybe she was just in a manic mood and wanted to cause trouble, but it came from a place of joy. And that joy was infectious. Within seconds Quentin’s frown turned into an exasperated smile and he followed behind her.