Chapter 78: Take a Breath
While grief was nothing new for Quentin, celebrating that grief instead of wallowing in it was new territory. Demetrius’ memorial lasted longer than he expected, and he stayed until the end, coming back home long after dark and feeling no pain. He staggered into the atrium suppressing a laugh, catching himself on a pillar before he fell.
“Wow, haven’t seen you like this in a while,” Razia said from her place on the lounger. She pushed herself upright, smiling crookedly. “The memorial went well, then?”
Quentin wobbled a little, keeping one arm around the pillar for support. He thrust a finger into the air, and said, “Yes! Better than I expected. Everyone was…honestly great.” His eyes focused somewhere near her and he let out an uninhibited giggle. “For the first time in my life, I was one of them. We were all there together, remembering our friend. And it was good. Hurt like a motherfucker, but we focused on all the good times and the angry shit he would say when motivating us.”
Razia slipped off the lounger and came up to him, nose wrinkling at the fumes coming off him. She pressed herself up against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, lowering his head for a quick kiss. That hadn’t gotten old yet, and he hoped it never would. “I’m glad,” she said. “I was kind of worried it would end poorly, or you’d come home upset.”
“I was too, at first,” he admitted. “But we all got to drinking --”
“I can see that. And smell it.”
“--and every time someone finished a story about the old turtle, we’d all share a drink and then it was someone else’s turn to tell a story. Everyone had a story, so there were a lot of drinks. Do you think I drink too much?” he asked, brows furrowing in concern.
Razia shook her head, laughing. “You know, sometimes I wonder how you drink as much as you do without getting fat or having a constant hangover. I’ve been thinking about that for a bit, actually. How’s your shoulder doing?”
That threw him for a loop. “My shoulder? I mean, I guess it’s been sore and all, but it could be worse. I almost have full range of motion again. Why?” Quentin let go of the pillar, swaying in place.
“Well, you haven’t healed it all of the way, right? Even though you can do it. You just did a little bit, and as we saw from your pit fight you can do it on command. So why haven’t you healed it all of the way? You could do it now, if you wanted.”
“Oh shit, you’re right,” Quentin nodded, his last few wayward brain cells coming together to try to put it into words. “It scares me,” he said. “It hurts really bad when I do it, and I get a bit dizzy and hungry. I guess I just haven’t wanted to do it again if I didn't need to.”
Taking him by the hand, Razia carefully brought him over to the lounger, where there was a basket. “Yes, I remember you talking about the hunger. Luckily, I got us dinner. Why don’t you try and heal it, and see what happens?”
Quentin shrugged, not seeing a point in resisting. Sure it was scary, but at least he wouldn’t be alone. He sat down next to her and took a deep breath. If he concentrated, he became acutely aware of all the myriad aches and pains throughout his body, dulled by a lifetime of endurance and a decent amount of wine. The wound stood out as dull, pulling sensation in his shoulder. Like it was being pinched and pulled at the same time. It wasn’t comfortable.
The same itching from the other night made him want to tear his flesh off. It flared in pain, stretching until it felt like his arm was going to come off. The feeling of being clubbed over the head sent him reeling backwards. Razia caught him before he fell, then as swift as it had come it left him. His arm no longer hurt, his head was clear, and a light headed weakness like he hadn’t eaten all day made itself known through a wildcat roar that made Razia bust up laughing.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the hunger, were you?”
“I was not,” Quentin confirmed, licking his lips. “I think I just made myself sober too. What the hell?”
Razia opened the basket and pulled out a bottle of wine. “Maybe your body recognizes it as poison. I guess that explains why you can drink so much and not be fat or useless. You want fruit or a skewer?”
“Skewer,” he said, taking the bottle from Razia and popping it open. He took a drink, marveling at just how good he felt, outside of the weakness. “My shoulder feels fine, for the record. So I guess that works.” Setting the bottle down he took a skewer of meat from her and tore into it. “Gods,” he moaned, “this tastes so good right now.”
“Maybe you have the drunk munchies even after you’re no longer drunk,” Razia suggested, sticking her tongue out. She took a handful of grapes for herself, smiling and shaking her head at his enthusiasm as she popped one into her mouth. “I don’t want to ruin your good mood, but there’s something you should probably know.”
Part of him recoiled instantly upon hearing that. After the last week, surprises weren’t very welcome. The rest of him was in too good a mood to be bothered by it. “Bad news, then?” Quentin shrugged. “No better time for it.”
She looked down into her lap, sighing. “I don’t know how and I’m not sure it matters, but Isa knows who you are. Were. She pulled me into her room to talk about it after I told the girls everything. She knows you were the Butcher, and she’s freaking out a little.”
“Huh,” said Quentin, chewing thoughtfully. Out of the people who might’ve learned about it, she was probably the worst possible choice, other than maybe Samantha. Not that he worried Samantha would judge or hate him for it so much as that she’d find a way to accidentally spill it and get them all killed. With Isa, there was always a lot going under the surface. She was suspicious, distrustful, and often ready to lash out.
“That’s it? Huh? Aren’t you worried?”
“...No, I don’t think I am,” said Quentin, shaking his head. It was a surprise to him too at first, but the more he thought about it the more it felt right. “Either she rats me out, or she doesn’t. I don’t think she will. I think she wants, maybe needs, to have something on me. Something she could use against me if things go sour. You know, to protect herself.”
Razia made a face. “You think that just having that will be comforting to her, but she won’t use it? That’s an awful lot to gamble on. But I guess if you took that chance with me, you’re not unwilling to risk it all on a whim.” She ate another grape, looking past him as she thought about it more.
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“The thing is,” Quentin said, “things have been way better with her lately. She’s even started saying nice things to me when no one else is looking. I think I’ve made some good progress, and I don’t think she’ll throw that away just because. And let’s be honest, Razia. There are a lot of people who know who I was. More than should be safe. Any one of them could spill their guts about it, and the only thing stopping them is brotherly comradery and the fear that they’ll die if they get caught.
“Which reminds me,” he said, eyes lighting up. “I’ve got some good news to counteract the bad.”
“Yeah?”
Quentin nodded. “We’ve got the guard situation taken care of. We’ve got something like twenty volunteers, all willing to take a shift here and there for a few castura. Jonas is feeling about as guilty as me, and he wants to make sure nothing happens again. I guess some other gladiators were moved and joined in. We spent a good chunk of the night talking about it. Felt a little bad, taking the focus from Demetrius but they were all willing and eager to talk. A few of them opened businesses of their own and understand how it is, retiring from action to do something else.” Quentin’s lips twitched. “Retiring to open a whorehouse was a new one for them, though.”
Razia exhaled, deflating with relief. “That’s fantastic, Quentin! Between Cicero’s men watching the streets and your men watching the Garden, I think we’re going to be okay. At least until Cicero can get us a meeting with Piro to discuss getting him the fuck out of my life. Maybe we can bribe him to forgive and forget.”
“How likely is that?” Quentin finished devouring his skewer and reached for some of her grapes.
“About as likely as me going celibate. Probably not going to happen, but I’m sure there are circumstances where it’s not impossible.”
“If you went celibate on me now I think I’d be a little upset,” said Quentin, looking down and a little pleased with himself. The change in their situation had been a little easier than he expected, and the high still hadn’t worn off. “Maybe with a big enough bribe we can court the impossible. Even after buying the house, my pockets are fairly deep. And we’ll be making more than ever. Minus the new costs.”
Quentin made a face as he thought about it. “Twenty percent off the top for Mr. Cicero, and a flat fee for our guards, and a portion to taxes, and a bit back towards operating costs. Gods, how do people keep it all straight and make a profit?”
Razia puffed up, looking quite pleased with herself. “Leave all that to me. With our popularity, prices have been going up bit by bit. We’re expanding at a decent rate, but now that we’ve got your gladiator friends, once we talk to them a bit we can start bringing girls directly to people and charge way more for it. It takes effort to go to the whorehouse. Rich men love it when women come to them. The only reason we haven’t been doing that from the start is because you can’t be in two places at once. Right?” She narrowed her eyes in faux suspicion.
He shook his head, laughing. “Nope. I can heal myself and sober up quickly, and I think that’s it. That’s enough, to be honest. A savant…” The idea still tickled and unnerved him.
“So we add outcalls and that’ll give us a boost,” Razia continued, listing it off on her finger. “Parties will be another big one. Nights when we can rent the entire garden out for groups. Maybe even themed parties, based on the seasons and festivals and our favorite plays. I always thought that The Speaker’s Shadow would be vastly improved with more people fucking on stage.”
Quentin snorted. “We going to have the girls fuck in public and put on a show? Not against it, I just wonder if that’s really consistent with the overall atmosphere of the Garden.”
“If they’re willing,” Razia said, finishing off her fruit and taking a pull from the wine bottle. “It’d be another specialty night. Imagine allowing a client the chance to show off with their favorite girl while others watch and applaud.”
“That’s the stuff my nightmares are made of, actually.”
“Maybe,” Razia grinned, “but some people would pay good money to do it, and good money to see it. The point is we’ve been taking things slow as we got used to it and the time has come to expand and not only show the world we’re not afraid, but the attack was nothing and it's business as usual. If we do well enough, bring in more money, we can show Cicero that we’ll be valuable additions to his community. We do that, and Piro trying anything will start a gang war that he can’t afford to commit to.”
She sounded so confident about that. Not for the first time, Quentin suppressed a twinge in his stomach at thinking of her past with the southern crime lord. It was a part of her life that led to their current problems, but more than that it was the reminder of just how familiar she was with their operation. That traitorous voice in the back of his head wasn’t quieter these days, it just had new things to whisper into his ear.
Trusting Razia after her confession and losing Demetrius was hard, and even as giddy as he was about being with her, part of him wondered if he was doing the right thing. Or if he was just thinking with his dick for the first time in years. Swallowing all of his insecurities down, Quentin asked, “What makes you say that? You’ve said his greatest asset is manpower.”
“Yeah,” Razia nodded, “in his own territory. With my help he expanded really fast and took over some rival’s territory. It wasn’t entirely smooth and not everyone who works for him is happy with him. The other gangs big enough to not be consumed by him resent him for his growth and if he overextends, he risks losing power at home. I had a plan for that, but…” She shrugged, looking away.
“Great,” said Quentin, pushing the last bit of the skewer back into the basket, no longer hungry. “That means you probably know how to fuck with him more if we have to. I’d rather we find peace, but…”
“Yeah. I’m sorry,” Razia said, for about the hundredth time since she confessed. “We’re going to be okay. We’ve got guards, we’ve got plans, and we’ve got connections. All we have to worry about is Cicero’s party next week.”
“And what he wants from me,” Quentin added. “And possibly Isa. I’ll talk to her and see if we can come to some sort of understanding, but I’m worried about having to fit in among a group of vicious, greedy crimelords. It’s bad enough I went into a career change blind, this is playing for much higher stakes.”
“You’ve got me,” said Razia. She beamed at him and his remaining trepidations didn’t seem so important anymore. Maybe that was what made it all worth it, in the end. There were things to think about, but they didn’t feel like full worries just then. “I made a point of learning the major players. I haven’t really had to use any of that since the Silk Lounge, but I can get you up to date on the bigger ones. But you know what?”
“What?”
Razia got up from the lounger and offered him her hand. Quentin took it, standing as well and just enjoying the feel of her hand in his. “That’s all stuff for the future. We’ve got time and we’ll get it done, but for now we’ve got something more important: a chance to catch our breath. Let’s worry about all of that tomorrow and go out and do something. Just the two of us.”
“Right now?”
“Absolutely! We’ve been so busy with opening the Garden and now this that we haven’t gotten to see much of the city lately.” She wore the same happy, carefree grin that lit up the room. It was what made her face go from merely pretty in her odd, unique style to beautiful. Something that transcended mere appearance and really made her stand out. There was life to her, as big and bright as the sun.
Quentin thanked his lucky stars he got to bask in that warmth. “Think you’ll be able to avoid getting us into trouble for one night?”
“Only one way to find out, right?” Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “I’m sure I can find us some entertainment that may or may not be safe. How do you feel about dancing, followed by some rabble rousing and light incitement of violence?”
He smiled. “Sounds perfect.”
Hand in hand, they went out into Orchrisus and on to more bad decisions.