Chapter 81: A Slow Night

The look of bald faced interest and glee on the gladiators’ faces amused Razia. There were plenty of places to buy sex throughout Orchrisus, but until recently the Temple had a monopoly on taking it seriously and treating it with respect. The two men, one a large man in his twenties with a great beard and the other slim and nearly as old as Demetrius had been with short silver hair, craned their heads and looked around the Garden with wonder. Most places to buy sex outside the temple were small and crowded. Maybe it was the big villa that impressed them, or the cleanliness and decor.

Or maybe it was Samantha smiling and waving to them from her spot on the couch. No one was as warm greeting their new hires as Samantha and Lucy, and Razia wondered if her explanation of the rules they set or the duties they required sunk in. There was only one way to find out.

“Any questions?” she asked.

“You said we get half off?” The younger of the two, David, asked without shame. Beside him Patrick rolled his eyes.

“Yes. Which means that one night working here is good for an hour of one of our lovely ladies or lads’ time,” said Razia. “Any questions relating to your duties?”

Patrick cleared his throat for attention and then spoke. “Seems pretty simple. Two of us in the main room, one in the entrance, and that’ll be Jonas while he heals up. Act when we hear a scream, try not to permanently maim any offenders. Sounds like bog standard guard work. Our presence is worth more than what we do, yeah? Seems like an easy payday. Any chance we’ll be attacked by the Warlords?” His hand brushed the knife at his side.

Of all the things that got the gladiators on their side, Razia hated that Demetrius’ death was the reason. It was bad enough she was responsible for it without the added guilt of eagerly expected vengeance. So far all of them had asked after the invaders, and the answer worried her. No, they didn’t expect another incursion but it was better to be safe. How long would their grief for Demetrius shield them?

“There’s always a chance, but I hope not,” she said with a light chuckle. “They’re bound to be pissed at Quentin for killing their men, so anything’s possible. Was Quentin really Demetrius’ assistant for years?” she asked, the picture of wide eyed innocence.

They exchanged an uncomfortable look. Good, they didn’t know that she knew. Maybe that would keep them discreet. “You could say that,” said Patrick, scratching the back of his head. “He and Demetrius were close. Them two and Jonas.”

“Yeah, Jonas was Demetrius’ new star,” David agreed. “Not sure how that injury’s going to change things, but if he heals up right it’ll be fine. Maybe. Recommend anyone in particular? What about you?” The hunger in his eyes wasn’t subtle.

Razia reached forward and patted his cheek. “I’m not on the menu anymore, I’m afraid. If I were to recommend anything, it would be to come back on a night when you’re not working, when our flowers are fresh and unplucked. But I would recommend…” her lips twitched. “Kelli is a popular choice.” Maybe it was unkind, pushing an unknown quantity on the spy, but as long as she was there she’d have a little bit of fun with it.

“Sure, I’ll remember that,” David said with a nod.

Voices near the entrance got their attention. A man and a woman walked in together, reminding everyone that they were already open and ready for business. “We’ll talk more later, yeah?” Razia said, gently nudging David away. He nodded and went to a spot on the wall where he’d have an easy time watching everyone. Patrick shook his head, chuckling.

“He’s a good enough kid, just overeager. I’ll make sure he keeps his eyes on the customers at least half the time.”

Razia nudged him. “And what about you? We greatly appreciate the lot of you trading off on working shifts, but are the pay and perks to your liking?”

Patrick looked around, a smile spreading across his face. He nodded before turning back to her. “I think so. I’ve worked way worse places than this before, and it’s fair pay. I think you’ll be able to keep a lot of us around on nights we’re not fighting in the arena. Might even get some attention for it.” He moved up next to her and raised his hand, reading along with an invisible sign, “The Moonlit Garden, the Colosseum’s official place to go for relaxation. How’s that sound?”

Overwhelming. “We’d need to grow very, very quickly in order to accommodate how many people we’d get!” Razia said, laughing and putting her hand on his arm. “Baby steps first, I think. We have to be safe from the Warlords first.” She squeezed him before letting him go.

“You got it,” said Patrick. With a respectful bow of his head he took his place opposite David, leaning up against the halfway point between two rooms. Unlike his younger compatriot who stood stiff and unmoving, Patrick looked comfortably at ease and like he was just there, not waiting on anything in particular.

The night was very much young, but Razia couldn’t stop her thoughts from drifting to Quentin and Isa, out for the night from a weird note delivered by one of Cicero’s runners. She recognized the runner so there was no question of who it was from unless things were way worse than expected. At a certain point carefulness became paranoia and was just self defeating. The note was real, but that didn’t stop the other worries.

Razia had full confidence in Quentin handling whatever came their way, but Isa was a wildcard for now. Who knew what kind of complications she could throw their way? The worst kind of fears were of the unknown, and she knew better than to dwell on them. When things were uncertain, you dealt with the things in your control and prepared for the worst. That much she could do, and if nothing else she would be too busy to worry.

For being the first night back after a few nights off, the Garden wasn’t as busy as it could’ve been. Jenna sat between the couple who just came in and Cullen was on the loveseat with a diminutive man sitting in his lap, arms wrapped around him with a demure smile on his rugged face. Samantha was already in her room, the sounds of her exaggerated moans just barely audible. There wasn’t much for Razia to do, so she just walked around the room, eyes on the three clients they had while Lucy laughed at a story Tenchi was telling, face and hands animated the entire time.

“I’m here, the party can start!” A voice called out, followed by a young, rakish man in his mid twenties sauntering into the room. His expensive toga was half falling off and he waved around a bottle wildly. He was a handsome man, and one of their more beloved regulars.

“Rocco, you know you’re not supposed to bring in outside drinks,” Razia said, meeting him halfway and throwing her arms around him. She planted a kiss on each cheek. “How are we going to sell you wine if you show up with your own?”

Rocco scoffed, paused, and then scoffed again even louder. His cheeks were already a healthy shade of red. “Do you think I won’t drink more? It’s like you don’t know me at all. Just for that I’m not going to share with you.”

“Ah, but if you share with me you’ll run out faster and have to buy my wine,” said Razia, taking the bottle from him. “Which will make us happier. Happy enough to not toss your pampered ass out for breaking the rules.” She took a pull from the bottle and handed it back.

Rocco clutched at his chest. “You wouldn’t dare. You like me too much. Is Samantha available?”

“Alas, not at the moment. Wait around a while and you’ll get your turn.”

Sighing theatrically, Rocco shrugged. “I guess I’ll just have to share my wine and my company with everyone else. It’s a burden enriching so many people at once, but I’m a giver.” He winked and joined Kelli on the couch, offering up the bottle.

He’d been showing up since a few days after they opened, and made an appearance at least once, sometimes twice a week. As far as Razia could tell, Rocco was universally liked and a perfect gentleman behind closed doors. It was good to see that their little incident hadn’t driven away their most dedicated clients.

Jonas came in from the entrance, eyes wide. “You’re not going to believe this,” he said, beckoning Razia closer. “I had to check my eyes to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.”

The special guest walked in, and Razia understood immediately what Jonas meant. He had the same scowling face and hairline as Quentin, just darker in skin and hair and older, obviously. There was no mistaking Quentin’s father as anything else. He looked around the villa, clearly impressed, then froze when he saw Razia. Similarly intense blue eyes pierced right through her, but it made him smile.

“You must be Razia,” he said, closing the distance. Like most men he looked her up and down. Unlike most, he didn’t seem to be undressing her with his eyes so much as taking her in. “Quentin couldn’t stop talking about you when he visited. Quirrinel Quintius,” he said, offering up his hand.

Razia wanted to scream in delight. Quentin visited his father, the one he was very much estranged from? He hadn’t mentioned that at all. Razia ignored the hand and pulled him in for a big hug. “What a pleasure to meet you,” she said, squeezing and pulling back just enough to beam up at him. “When did Quentin visit you? I thought you two weren’t on good terms.”

Behind Qurrinel, Jonas mouthed something Razia couldn’t make out. He looked as surprised as she felt, and excited. She didn’t know how much he knew, but Quentin had come back from the memorial with a lot of good things to say about the teen, so maybe he knew about the family troubles.

“Ah, yeah,” said Quirrinel, pulling back. “There’s…there’s a lot he and I need to work on. But he came and saw me when you two had your argument. He told me everything and we hashed some things out. I didn’t have anything going tonight so I thought I’d drop in and see how he was doing.”

For the first time, Razia appreciated how annoying it was, not being told everything. Then again, maybe it was her own fault Quentin didn’t have a chance to tell her about it. The day of that argument had been a long one and very busy by design. “You’ve got some timing, Quirrinel,” she said, shaking her head with a rueful smile. “Quentin’s out for a good chunk of the night with one of our girls and I don’t know when he’ll be back.”

Quirrinel’s brows raised. “Wow, that’s moving fast. First he wasn’t sure whether to reject you or not and now he’s with other girls? Never thought I’d see the day.” It was amazing how proud he sounded.

“Not like that,” Razia laughed, “there’s a private party and one of our top girls was requested. He’s there to protect her and mingle and schmooze.”

“My Quentin, a schmoozer?” Quirrinel clicked his tongue. “Not sure I believe it. Should I go then? I don’t want to get in the way if he’s not here.”

“Absolutely not,” Razia’s voice rose. “You aren’t going anywhere.” She waited just long enough for Quirrinel to be taken aback before she was all smiles. “You came all this way, you think I’m going to let you get away without getting to know you? I’ve only known Quentin for a few months now, I must know the rest!”

Quirrinel’s face fell. He wrestled with himself over something before saying in a muted tone, “I’m afraid you probably know him better than I do by now. It’s been…A long time since we were in each others’ lives.”

She understood his sorrow and refused to let it settle in. “That might be true,” Razia admitted, “but I only know the man he’s become. You know who he was from the start. I’ll be fascinated to pick your brain and see if I can connect the dots. What’s your poison, Senior Q?”

He blinked. “Senior Q?”

Razia tugged on his arm and led him towards the other room. “Quentin is Mr. Q here, so that makes you Senior Q. What can I get you to drink?”

“Uh, whatever you got is fine, I’m not too picky so long as it burns and gets me drunk,” he said, looking all around him. His face reddened in a very familiar way when he saw the girls on the couches watching the two of them come in. “Uh, hello,” he said.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a very special guest tonight,” said Razia, ushering him to an empty spot on the couch next to Lucy. “This is Mr. Q’s father, Senior Q.”

Quirrinel looked around wildly at the cacophony of cheers and greetings all around him, even from a couple of the patrons. Rocco in particular looked away from Kelli, lifting his bottle in a cheeky salute. Lucy went so far as to turn from Tenchi completely and press herself against his side. She was still a little shy these days, but she was returning to duty bit by bit. Quirrinel cautiously threw an arm around her shoulder and looked happy enough.

“Uh, hi,” he said, unable to suppress a pleased grin. “He’s told me so much about most of you. You’re…Lucy, right? You’re one of his favorites.”

Lucy’s eyes lit up while others in the room groaned. Tenchi even smacked her with a pillow. “I am?” she asked. “You’re not just saying that because I’m pressed up against you?”

Quirrinel’s grin widened, and Razia could see more of Quentin in there, on the rare occasion he let his guard drop enough to be completely open. “No, though it certainly helps. You’re not too hard to look at.”

Lucy, Razia, and even Kelli let out a low ooooh. Quirrinel looked pleased with himself, and very relaxed and comfortable. This was a chance they might not get again for a while, and Razia intended on making the most of it. “What was Quentin like as a kid?” she asked. “Like, say, eight years old.”

He screwed up his face in deep thought. “Gods, eight years old. Let’s see. Believe it or not, he was a really soft, quiet, sensitive kid. This was before he’d get into a fight with anyone who looked at him funny and was usually the one getting the crap kicked out of him. He spent a lot of time sitting at home reading until sunset.”

“Mr. Q?” Lynne made a face. “A bookworm? Not sure I believe you.”

Quirrinel held up a hand. “Honest truth. My wife was a scribe and she used to make extra copies to bring home. She could never keep up with him.”

“He still is,” Razia interjected. “Reads before bed every night to wind down.”

Rocco shook his head in disbelief. “Books. Feh. I could never. Real life is far too interesting to waste it on the ghosts of words from people no longer around. Why read a book when I can be around you fine people, enjoying life?” He lifted the bottle in a silent toast.

Everyone started talking all at once, arguing the pros and cons of books while Razia silently drifted off towards the kitchen where, funny enough, Trish sat reading a book. Trish looked up but Razia just shook her head and motioned for her to keep reading. It was a nice and easy night so far and Razia could get some wine herself. She grabbed a bottle from the cooler and a couple of goblets and brought them back out to the main room. She set them down in front of Quirrinel and poured into both.

“Oh, thanks,” he said, leaning forward to grab first Lucy’s drink and then his own. He smiled at her before going back to the argument at hand.

Razia took a couple steps back, admiring the scene. There would be plenty of time to talk with Quirrinel one on one. The way she saw it, it was on her to make sure he had a good time and was well welcomed in Quentin’s absence. She may not have known about their meeting but if things were good enough for Q Senior to walk on in, then it was cause for celebration. Idly, she wondered if she would ever be able to mend things with her own father. Probably not, after giving his men the slip. He was the first rich and powerful man she pissed off, and who knew when he’d come looking for her again.

“Razia!” Jonas’ voice called out from the entrance, alarmed if not afraid. Razia got moving instantly, mind already going back to the attack and praying there wasn’t another already.

When she got there, she was relieved but only a little. Huddled up together in the entrance room were six people, four men and two women, all armed to the teeth and rough looking. The leader was a bald man with a nasty scar going from the side of his neck up past his ear. He wore a lazy sneer on his face, but he and his people weren’t rushing forward or drawing their weapons. Razia recognized him after a second.

“Ah, Rex, was it?” she asked, cocking her head to the side. Her eyes slid over the other faces, memorizing and placing them as she could. “What brings you and yours here tonight?”

Rex smiled, shrugging and spreading his hands. “Celebration. Mr. Cicero said you were the place to go and you’d hook us up. My crew is hungry, thirsty, and in need of a good pound. Tell your other patrons to clear out. The Garden is ours tonight!”

It was then that Razia understood. Quentin wasn’t the only one to be tested tonight.