Page 98 of The Shadows Between Us
“New hire,” I say as I catch my feet.
“I don’t think so. I do the hiring for the working girls.”
Damn. New tactic. “I need the money. Thought if I came ready to work, you might have need of me.”
She steps up to me and unclasps my cloak. It falls to the ground in a tangled heap.
“You’re wearing gloves? Honey, the men here aren’t worried about getting dirty.” She pinches my fingers as she slides each one off and pockets them. She examines me as she walks in a circle about me. “You know your way around a bedroom?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You don’t have much for a man to hold on to up top. Open your mouth.”
A bit startled by the question, I do so. It is the only reason I’m able to let slide the insult to my décolletage.
“You’ve got nice teeth. That’s a rarity around here. All right. You’re in luck. I’m short a girl tonight. I can’t give you regular work. But I’ll give you a quarter necos if you finish out the week.”
“A quarter necos!” I shout back without thinking, forgetting myself for a moment.
“Fine. A half. Just because of the teeth. But if I get one complaint about you, you’re out.”
I have to remind myself that I’m not posing as a noblewoman tonight. I’m a poor working girl.
“Done,” I say.
“Take this. You’ll save me a trip.” She hands me a tray full of mugs spilling over with ale. Then Madam Dawson gives me the same instructions up to the gaming room. “Let the men have a good look at you. Most of them are regulars, so they already know where the rooms are. They can show you where to go to receive your services.”
I take the proffered drinks and push at the swinging door with my hip, so very glad to be out of that room. I couldn’t believe all the things Madam Dawson said in front of the little girl. Though if she works here, she’s probably heard much worse.
Even without the directions, I’m sure I could have found the right room. Music from fiddles and other stringed instruments pours down the stairs, along with the tinkling of coins hitting tabletops. Cigar smoke clogs the air.
As soon as I walk in, I hold back the urge to cough.
How the hell am I supposed to find Kallias in this?
How did I let thekingtalk me into bringing him to a place like this?
Round tables are spread throughout the room. Girls dance atop a stage to the fiddle music. More girls wearing significantly less than I am walk around or sit perched on men’s laps. I walk past a couple tucked into a corner, the man sucking on the neck of the prostitute.
After a minute more, he grabs her by the hand and hauls her past me. To wherever the rooms are.
Cards and dice seem to be the games of choice. I walk around the outskirts of the spacious room, trying to catch sight of Kallias. It takes me a moment to remember I’m not looking for a dark head of hair but a light one. A wig. And he won’t have his shadows to aid me.
Devils, anything could happen to him in here.
At least all the firearms are checked at the doors. But it’s hardly difficult to hide a knife under one’s clothing. Even when wearing as little as I am.
A man suddenly runs up to me, and I panic before remembering I’m holding a tray of ale. He grabs a glass and peers at my exposed cleavage the entire time.
“Hm,” he says, slapping my rump before turning back the way he came.
I freeze for a moment, battling with the noblewoman I am and the light-skirt I’m pretending to be tonight.
No one touches me without permission.
But being here. In this dress. That is permission. It’s the job.
Oh, but my fingers itch for the ruby-handled knife strapped to my thigh. I could so easily drive it into his turned back.
