Chapter 44: Chapter 44: Life Goes On

Volume 2: The Night Garden

Part 5: Growing Pains

Chapter 44: Life Goes On

A week had passed since the executions. The full weeklong festival of the Blooming had come, partied, and was now on its way out and Razia had spent a considerable chunk of that time trying to coax Quentin from his room. “You’ve been in there long enough. It’s time to stop punishing yourself,” she said through the door.

“Meeeeh,” she got in return. It wasn’t as if Quentin never left his room. He came out to get food or occasionally get a bottle of wine to bring back with him. During those times when he was out of his room, he wouldn’t slow or stop for anyone. Not for Razia, and not for Tricia, who was still living with them, mostly out of virtue of having nowhere else to go.

That first night back, Razia let Quentin go to his room and just rest. Tricia had been waiting up for them, and one look at Razia’s crestfallen face told her everything she needed to know. The teen had broken down crying, and Razia spent most of that first night holding her and crying with her until they both fell asleep on the lounger.

After that, things fell into a comfortable, if not happy, rut. Razia would wake up and make or go out and buy breakfast for everyone. Quentin would take his in his room while avoiding conversation, and she and Tricia would eat together quietly. Then Tricia would either read or spend her time milling around the courtyard, distracting herself with the other kids running around. Satisfied Tricia was going to be mostly okay, Razia then focused on working.

Just because Quentin was lost in a funk didn’t mean the rest of them could stop bringing in shards. They had rent to pay and had to eat, and the wild, festive atmosphere of the Blooming was the perfect environment to get more of a return on their work. For that week, they didn’t have to try hard to find a place to sell their time. Any place with a reasonable amount of people had men, women, and those in between looking for a passionate, energetic fuck.

Every night Razia and Samantha would come back and tally up the shards they made and how much of it would go to them and how much would go to their debt to Quentin. They were making good headway, though Razia knew Quentin truly didn’t care about the debt, especially not now. With each day that passed, Razia was increasingly convinced Quentin cared only about his guilt and feelings of powerlessness. Every day he spent alone further cemented that belief.

The entire time, Razia dreaded the potential hiccups and fights that could arise from more people searching out their services than usual. Each client was a potential danger and the girls went out each night undefended, relying on luck and good cheer to keep them safe. So far, they’d come out of it okay at the cost of Razia’s growing anxiety; something she had no issues voicing.

“I don’t know what to do,” she confessed to Samantha exactly a week after the Blooming started. It was the final night of the festival, and things were winding down. At least, in theory. The bustle of the cafe around them was proof that people weren’t done celebrating. “I’m trying to give him space but he doesn’t seem to want to feel better.”

Samantha nodded, taking a sip of her tea. Her little cake was already reduced to just crumbs on a clay plate. “What else have you tried? Other than giving him space, I mean.” The redhead was focused entirely on her. If nothing else, Samantha was an excellent listener.

“That’s the thing, isn’t it? I haven’t tried too much because I don’t want to push him too hard. Quentin can be really stubborn in his own way, and it’s usually only about things he’s overly serious and morose about. I don’t know what I can do to get through to him. But I’ve only known him for a month, so it’s hard to say.” Razia rubbed at her eyes.

“I believe in you,” Samantha said brightly. “You’re smart, and it’s not like anyone can hide much from you. If it was me, I’d go in there, give him a big hug, tell him it’s okay, and then see if a good fuck would help cheer him up.”

That was one of the things Razia liked about Sam. She was good natured, straight forward, and blunt to a fault. She couldn’t very well tell her that sex to cheer him up was off the table or why, so she just laughed and nodded. “You might be onto something, but he hasn’t been in much of a mood to fuck lately. It wouldn’t be so bad if we didn’t have Tricia to look after. I’m trying to take care of everything and it’s a lot.”

Samantha’s expression softened. “How is she handling everything? I can’t imagine what she’s going through right now. It was kind of you and Quentin to take her in.”

Kind wasn’t the right word. Quentin volunteering his place surprised Razia, but in hindsight she supposed he really was that much of a sap. It was the vehemence he had that was surprising. Like a lot of Quentin’s decisions, Razia figured it came down to guilt more than kindness. But if guilt led to kindness, then it was still kindness, she supposed. “You should’ve seen her grandmother. What a piece of work. If we’d left Tricia with her grandmother, chances are she’d already be sold into slavery by now.”

Samantha shuddered. With as much debt as she had had hanging over her family, slavery would’ve been an option to solve it. It was only by first an agreement with a crime lord and then Quentin himself that really pulled her away from a term of slavery as an ever looming threat. “How’ve you been keeping her busy?”

“We let her wander around for the most part, and stay inside after dark.” Razia shrugged. “Past that, not exactly sure what we should be doing. I’ve never had a kid, and never expected to have one to take care of.” Having a kid meant settling down, and if she was ready to settle down she wouldn’t have run away to Orchrisus.

“Maybe I can take her off your hands for a day or two,” Samantha offered. “I’ve got tons of siblings. Maybe it would do her some good to have some kids her own age to hang out with. I know Darla and Denna would love someone to fuss over.”

Razia nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll want to see if she wants to first, of course, but that sounds like a good idea. If nothing else, if she's out of the house for a couple of days I can maybe try to get Quentin out of his room and at least into the bath. He’s…Really not taking Maria’s death well.”

Samantha made a sympathetic noise. “I’m sad about it too. Maria always looked out for us. Before I started working in the Silk Lounge, she was the one who taught me how to find a good client who wouldn’t beat me, and how to spot the bad ones from a mile away. Feels weird to be without her. Feels weird to be without Mr. Q too.”

And that was part of what was bothering Razia so much. If Quentin decided he didn’t want to go out anymore, that was his choice, of course. But dammit, it was a bad choice and wouldn’t be made with the right state of mind. If he quit now, it would be because of a depressive slump instead of any real reason, and Razia couldn’t tolerate that. She had to get him out and with them again before something happened that proved just how much they needed him.

“We’ll be okay,” Razia said, not sure if she was lying or not. “We’ve made it through the week without anything happening. Nothing’s going to happen tonight.” She looked out the window. The sun was most of the way down. One last night of debauchery and playing around before the city went back to normal, embracing spring with a renewed vigor. That meant one last bountiful night to pad their purses before they had to try to keep their heads above water. “Wanna come back with me and get ready before we go out?”

Samantha stood up. “Of course I do! Any chance of a bath before we go out?”

The guards for their neighborhood smiled and waved at them as they passed. It hadn’t taken long for them to warm up to Razia, and it was even faster for Sam. “Hey Joe,” Razia called out to a heavyset bald man as she passed. He smiled at her, a flush coming to his cheeks when he saw Samantha. “Pity he’s working,” she whispered to her friend. “You could probably get some shards for a quickie.” Samantha laughed and they entered the house through the garden.

Tricia was there in the living room, sitting on the lounger with her face buried in a book. For not being one prone to reading, she sure had gone through a lot of Quentin’s library. Of course, when not playing with the other kids and teenagers, there wasn’t exactly a lot to do in the place. “Hey Tricia, how’re you doing today?” Samantha called out.

She looked up from her book. Her eyes weren’t red and puffy from crying today, at least. Though she broke down at least once a day when everything became too much, it was getting a little easier by the day. She gave a half-hearted wave before going back to The Adventures of Gwen the Seamstress. “That’s better than normal,” Razia whispered to Sam.

Samantha sat on the lounger and started up a conversation while Razia went up to Quentin’s door. She knocked on it and received no answer. Another knock, more silence. Sighing, she decided this was silly and just entered anyway.

Razia hadn’t been into Quentin’s room too often. As a rule, she left it alone as his private space. A place where everything was exactly the way he wanted it and had been for all these years. Unlike most of the house, it had slivers of personality to it and felt lived in. Quentin was curled up on his bed, facing the wall.

“Quentin?” she tried. “You doing okay today?”

He let out an uninterested groan, shifting a little but not turning around.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“It’s almost time for me and Samantha to go out for the night. It’s fine that Tricia’s staying with you, right?” Razia kept her voice even. Not too worried, not too chipper, and not too irritated. The latter was getting harder and harder by the day.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Quentin said in a lifeless voice. “I won’t let anything happen to her, as long as she doesn’t wander out. Can’t promise much more than that.”

Oh yes, the irritation spiked. “You have to come out of here sooner or later,” Razia said, closing the distance and sitting sideways on the edge of his bed. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, keeping it there even after he flinched. “This isn’t healthy. You’re not helping Maria or Tricia out by staying in here and feeling bad about it.”

Quentin rolled over to face her, hugging a pillow to his chest. He hadn’t really bathed or groomed in days and it showed. His face was covered in patchy white stubble that made him look like an old man. His short hair was messy and desperately in need of a wash, and his icy eyes were bloodshot and haunted. “Not much I can do when I’m out of here either.”

Razia took a long, deep breath. It was hard seeing him like this, and even harder trying to talk to him. “It’s not your fault Amicus is a faithless, lying sack of shit. It’s not your fault Cervenka is a murderous opportunist. You couldn’t have known what was going to happen. I failed too, you know.”

All she got was a miserable grunt in return. So she tried another angle. “Everyone misses you, Quentin. We’d be happier with you there. Why don’t you get up, have a bath, shave, and come on out with us? Just tonight, and if tomorrow you’re happier staying at home and moping all day, I won’t bother you.”

All that got her was another grunt. This wasn’t working, and she had no idea how to get through to him. It was hard enough not biting his head off and telling him to get over it. Razia could hardly do that when she was coping by throwing herself into work.

“You still don’t mind me getting into your prize?” She looked over to a bulging sack by his bed, filled with his earnings from the Blooming. They hadn’t formally counted it, but it was more shards than Razia had ever had at one time by a very large margin. Each night, with Quentin’s apathetic version of a blessing, she dipped into it to make sure Tricia had enough to eat and the girls could do their thing, even without him.

“The shards mean nothing to me,” said Quentin lifelessly.

“Right.” Razia sighed but dug out a couple aquilos in small denominations to take with her. “Then I guess I’m off. Please drink something other than alcohol tonight. You won’t bring her back by drinking yourself to death.”

“Only one way to find out,” he muttered, rolling over in bed.

Razia left him behind and rejoined the girls in the living room. “Just us tonight,” she said. Plopping herself down next to Tricia she lowered her voice and said, “I’m a bit worried about him, Trish. Would you mind staying at home and making sure he doesn’t do anything crazy?”

Tricia’s eyes narrowed. The girl wasn’t stupid, and knew when she was being told to stay indoors and keep quiet. Again. “Yeah, sure, fine,” she sighed, rolling her eyes. “Not like he’ll stop or even notice me when he comes out of his room.”

“That’s not true,” Samantha protested, putting her hand on Tricia’s knee. “If you were in any trouble Mr. Q would come for you in a heartbeat.”

“Right,” said Tricia, unconvinced. “Go on, I’ll make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit.”

“Attagirl,” said Razia.

Over the past week they were back to going to inns and taverns chosen the night before. Without Quentin, it seemed easier to stay on the move, and there were always new horizons in Orchrisus to explore. That night, they were meeting up with Lynne, the newest girl to the group, who said she had a fantastic place to work the night before.

Other than her attitude at first, Lynne had been an unexpected bonus of going to the Twilight Dancer. The slender blonde woman was experienced, didn’t seem to be picky or shy, and had a dark sense of humor that Razia appreciated and shocked Samantha, much to Lynne’s delight. She was a practically perfect addition to their group, even more so now that Maria wasn’t around. Maria couldn’t be replaced, but a new face helped with the pain of her absence.

“This part of town is iffy,” said Samantha, looking around as the buildings went from well maintained to run down and dark. The tavern was a squat, wide building that, to be honest, looked like a dump. “Are we sure this is the right place?”

“Yeah,” Razia confirmed, looking around. “She mentioned this, said it looks worse than it is. We’re not too far out though. If things get hairy it’s not too far back to where the Watch is. Not like they’ll do anything to help us, but just being around should be enough.”

Samantha hummed her agreement and the two went inside. The people inside looked downtrodden, sullen, and suspicious. Half a dozen pairs of eyes turned their way when they entered, and lingered. Razia ignored it and headed straight for Lynne, who was sitting alone and looked deep in thought. “Hey!” Razia said, sitting down. “Found the place.”

“Are you sure this is a good place to work?” Samantha asked uneasily, looking around. She was used to people staring and checking her out, but the looks they were getting were a little unnerving. Even the man at the bar was eyeing them intently. “I’m not sure I like how this place feels.”

Lynne smiled, but it was strained. “Yeah. This place is better than it looks. It’ll get better when the other girls arrive. If it doesn’t, we’ll go somewhere else. No problem, right?” She laughed, and Razia frowned. Something wasn’t quite right with the girl.

Razia leaned in closer and brushed Lynne’s hair out of her face. “What happened to you?” she asked, thumb stroking Lynne’s cheek. That side of her face was ever so slightly swollen, and Razia saw a bit of makeup hiding what looked like a bruise on her cheek. “And don’t you dare try to tell me nothing,” she added.

The blonde woman sighed, looking away. “Last night after we parted. I went for one more client, and he got a little rough. It’s not a big deal. Not sure it would’ve happened if your Mr. Q was here. Is he not coming again tonight?” A bit of heat entered her voice now.

Razia and Samantha exchanged a look. How did they really tell someone new that Quentin was punishing himself for failing to save Maria? Not like anyone other than Razia knew he was in a position to save her to begin with. The loss of the group mom was a blow to their morale, but Quentin’s lack of participation threatened to make it all unravel right as they started.

“He’s still sick,” Razia said neutrally. “He’s going to be better soon. This was unexpected and knocked him on his ass. He feels that showing up in his current state would just invite people to come after us more.” Samantha bit her lip and nodded along. She wasn’t really one for lying, but Razia had told her several times the importance of keeping up appearances here.

“As opposed to not being here at all, leaving us wide open,” said Lynne deadpan. “Yeah, great alternative.” She buried her face in her hands and let out a deep sigh.

Razia cocked her head to the side. Something wasn’t right here. Her gut told her so. “Is something bugging you, Lynne? You seem as though --”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Lynne waved her off. “Just…just having a rough day. It looks worse than it is. Ignore me. Everything will be better once we get work going and all the rest of us are here.”

Samantha reached across the table and took Lynne’s hand in hers. “Don’t worry, everything will be okay!” She beamed at Lynne, as if intent on projecting every ounce of positivity she had to the other woman. “We’ll have a few drinks, make some shards, and laugh at the bad lines they use on us. ‘Oh, Lynne? Such a lovely name!’” Samantha screwed up her face into something smug and self assured.

Lynne looked away, biting her lip. Samantha laughed, and Razia thought she thought Lynne was laughing too. She looked like she wanted to cry. Something was definitely wrong but there was no point in pressing the subject when she was obviously wanting to bury it. Razia knew when to take a hint and so she sat back and relaxed.

Before long, Jenna and Lucy came in and joined them, and the four of them sat and had a light dinner and some drinks. Lynne’s eyes kept darting towards the door, and eventually Isa showed up as well. “Well,” she said, stealing a chair to join them at the table. “What’re you all sitting around for? Surely you weren’t waiting for me to begin.”

Razia smiled and shook her head. “I think it’s just been an intense, kinda crap week and we’re dragging our feet. But now that you’re here to provide a good example for the rest of us, I think we’ll get started.”

“Wait,” said Lynne, standing up. “Let’s have a round to celebrate. On me.”

A chorus of agreements sounded around the group, but Razia objected. “What’re we celebrating?”

Lynne swallowed, then put a smile on her face. “You girls letting me in and welcoming me, I guess.”

All at once all of them began talking, reassuring her that she was welcome and that they liked her. It was sweet, Razia thought, how automatic it was to reassure each other when their spirits were low. It was obviously overwhelming for Lynne who gave that same bleak smile and stood up. She went to the bar, walking as slow as if to an execution.

“I kind of want to try the Twilight Dancer again,” said Lucy, flushing a little. “I’m not much of a dancer, but it was kind of a thrill being up there and having everyone fighting over me.”

Jenna nodded. “It’s easy enough to go around and talk men up, but dancing got them drooling really quickly. I made more money that night than in the three before it. Think we’ll go there again, Roz?”

“Certainly,” said Razia, keeping her eyes on Lynne as the girl spoke to the bartender. She looked back at the table and nearly flinched at seeing Razia watching her. “Just not without Quentin. As you saw, things can get a little rough in the wrong parts of town.” The bartender nodded and came out from around the bar. He went out the front door. That wasn’t where the drinks were.

“Excuse me,” said Razia, standing. She went up to Lynne and tapped her shoulder. She jumped half out of her skin. “Okay Lynne, you need to explain what’s going on. I’m not stupid.” Razia’s heart was starting to beat fast and her blood was like ice. All of her senses were awake and searching for danger.

Lynne looked down. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t want to do this. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t. He met up with me two nights ago and demanded I bring us here.”

Oh. Oh no. “Who?” Razia asked, though she feared she already knew the answer.

Four men entered the tavern. First the bartender, then three rough looking men who practically screamed muscle. And then an oddly dressed man in bright red with his arm in a sling. Wincing, she recognized him, if not by name. “You didn’t.”

“I’m so, so sorry Razia,” Lynne whispered. The first tear ran down her cheek, followed by more and more. “I didn’t have a choice.”

The bartender went to the other patrons and ushered them out. The four men went to the table. By now, the rest of the girls recognized the trouble they were in. The muscle fanned out, surrounding the table with one coming up to Razia, motioning with his head for her to get back with the rest of them. She wordlessly obeyed, eyes darting around, looking for a distraction, an escape route, anything.

“Well, hello there ladies,” the pimp said, looking proud of himself. “Where’s the moonkissed? He and I have a quarrel we need to resolve.”