Whore

  PING!

  The sound bounces off my table. There are screams when a bullet lands next to me. A black sedan with tinted windows speeds past, the barrel of a gun peeking just outside the side window. I drop to the ground and start slithering toward the restaurant. Three gunshots follow in quick succession, and I cover my head and keep moving. Everyone around me scatters. When I’m almost to the door to the restaurant, two shots pop near my feet. Someone must have gotten out of the car, but I’m too scared to turn around and look. I duck inside. Once I’m a couple of yards inside, I get up and run to the back, through the kitchen, and out the back door.

  I don’t stop running until I’m inside, up the stairs, and banging on his door. I put my hands on my knees and try to catch my breath. I knock again and wipe the tears off my face. He can’t see me so weak.

  I feel a hand on my back and jump up and away.

  “Lili! What happened?”

  Soti stands behind me, his eyes full of concern.

  “Someone’s … trying … to kill me,” I gasp.

  He pulls me close and wraps his arms around me. I stand like a statue, but my entire body is humming.

  “Let’s get you inside.” He clutches my hand and pulls me in.

  I can’t stop talking. A nervous chatter so unlike me, I know I’m traumatized. But I can’t stop. And it doesn’t make any sense. I can tell I’m confusing the poor guy, but when I mention Nico Santelli, his body goes on full alert and I stop to take a breath.

  “How long have you been involved with him?” He looks like he wants to punch a wall.

  I swallow hard and let my mouth run away from me. “I have a history with him. But I didn’t see him for a couple of years … until recently,” I say, forcing myself to speak in present tense. “My mom has pushed the whole thing. I don’t know what’s going on between them. He’s changed a lot since I knew him…”

  I don’t recognize myself, telling all my business like this. I glare at him and silently will him to make me stop talking. He just studies me and waits.

  “I didn’t see who it was—it all went so fast. I didn’t think, I just ducked and ran.”

  “You did the right thing. I’m glad you came back here. Do you think anyone followed you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How did they know where to find you? Did they follow you from here?”

  The blood rushes out of my face. “I didn’t tell anyone that I stayed here, but … I did tell someone that I was at the cafe.”

  “How long before the shots started?”

  I turn to him. “I don’t even know you,” I whisper.

  “It won’t go past right here, I promise you.”

  “Five minutes at the most.”

  “Long enough then.”

  He lets out a long string of words in … Greek, maybe? My eyes widen and he clamps his jaw tight.

  “Pay no attention to me,” he says, his accent stronger than before.

  “You’re full of surprises.”

  He bites back a smile and walks toward the window, looking out at the street below. “I obviously can’t make you do anything you don’t want,” his voice is much calmer now, “but please stay. Let me help you.”

  It’s as if he’s aware that his eyes on me would be too much. I’m a skittish colt. One wrong move and I’ll bolt.

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  “Everyone knows you left, and we can continue making it seem that way. I’ll need to let JT and Miss Jez know—without telling them details—so they can help keep watch, but I trust them with my life. We’ll take every precaution any time you step foot outside this apartment. I’ll amp up our security and put word out that you’re under my protection. I have some resources too.”

  He doesn’t explain what that means, but I trust him enough to believe it. I feel the heat beginning to return to my cheeks.

  “If you get antsy spending so much time inside this building, we can come up with ways to get you out.” He can’t seem to hold back his smile. “You’re staying.”

  And God help me, I grin back. It catches him so off guard he just stares. It makes me smile bigger.

  “I have a little bit of good news, although now, considering the source, I’ll have to check it out. But … Jonell said all the charges were dropped.”

  “That’s great news. And you’re here, with me. That’s the best damn news I’ve had all day.”

  Chapter Six

  LILITH

  Trust is a necessary medication: hard to give and hard to take.

  When I come out of my room the next morning, Soti and JT are sitting in the stools by the bar. They each have huge mixing bowls full of Cap’n Crunch and are talking with their mouths full. I can’t understand a word they’re saying.

  Soti holds the box up to me and I shake my head. My mouth still hurts from eating it yesterday.

  It takes a minute, but JT finally finishes chewing and grins.

  “I had to come meet you for myself since you keep hiding out in here,” he says.

  Soti elbows him and he glares back. “What?”

  “Leave her alone.”

  “I’m just being friendly. You never have wom—” JT’s words are cut off from getting elbowed again and Soti shakes his head, mumbling something.

  JT moves his stool further away and dusts off his shirt.

  “He’s being all belligerent right now, but he loves me,” JT says with a cocky smirk.

  He is adorable.

  “We are twins from different con-ti-nents,” JT continues. “He has seven years on me, but whatever. Christmas babies, parentless, and bleeding hearts, that’s us.” He punches Soti in the arm and Soti has him on the ground in minutes.

  I think they’re having fun, but I’m not sure. After a few minutes of scuffling around on the floor, they get up laughing, so I guess that’s how men bond. I didn’t realize.

  Soti puts his hand on JT’s shoulder. “I couldn’t make it around here without this guy.”

  JT looks at Soti with such love, I have to look away. I get that weird feeling in my chest like I did when I saw him with Miss Jez. My emotions have woken up and are in overdrive. I want to cry one minute and laugh the next. These people are going to break me with all their goodness.

  “Why don’t you just go build a bonfire somewhere to do this?” I ask.

  I’ve spent nearly a week doing tedious things around the apartment since I’m not brave enough to leave these four walls yet—painting my nails and deep-conditioning my hair with ingredients from the kitchen. Soti came back after dinner with a huge plate of food for me, and now we’re roasting marshmallows over his gas stove. He watches as I make sure mine is thoroughly black before I put it in my mouth. His nose curls up.

  “What did that marshmallow ever do to you?”

  “You have the patience of a saint, roasting your marshmallows until they’re the perfect caramel color. I like mine this way. Try it. Toxic, but so good.” I hold up the one I’m working on and he shakes his head.

  “You’re charring your insides, eating that,” he says.

  “That already happened during the fire.”

  That sobers him right up, which makes me laugh.

  “Did you get checked out at the doctor? I can’t believe I haven’t already asked you that.”

  I pause the charring and look at him.

  “What?” He swipes his mouth with the side of his fist.

  I shake my head then clear my throat. “I’m fine. I kept my mouth covered as much as I could, and they wouldn’t let me back into the house, so my lungs seem okay. So, no to the bonfire?”

  “That would take too long. And would I be able to get you outside to enjoy the bonfire?”

  “Hmm. Good point. Maybe you’re not as patient as I thought. What made you decide to open the community center?”

  We’ve talked like this for a couple of hours. Jumping from nonsense to weighty topics with barely a breath between. I can’t stop asking him questions and he seems
just as curious about me. I don’t want it to end.

  “I spent most of my childhood feeling helpless,” he finally answers.

  He holds up another marshmallow with a raised eyebrow and I stab my stick into it. He laughs and stabs one for himself, staring at the flickering flame.

  “I let that lead me for a long time, and ultimately it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. I don’t want the conversation to get too heavy, but you may as well know the mess I am,” he pauses. “I was so afraid of becoming like my dad that for a while that’s exactly what I did … I became a self-absorbed hypocrite. In different ways, but same outcome, nonetheless.”

  He glances at me and I wait, listening intently to both what he’s saying and what he isn’t.

  “My parents always said ‘you reap what you sow’ like that was a curse. They said it when I was at my worst, always when I was in trouble. My dad would wag his finger at me like he was sealing my lot in hell.” His face burns and he turns away from the stove, away from me. “They died in a car accident—my parents and my sister.” I touch his hand and he looks down, surprised by the contact. “When my sister and I were younger, we swore we’d always be together. We were going to leave Greece, come to America and work together, live together … change the world together. That didn’t quite happen. We made it here, but everything changed.” He swallows hard. “I wonder every single day if Astra would approve of this life I’ve chosen. A few years after they died … I was high all the time and always reliving those conversations in my head … I started babbling on about the ‘reap what you sow’ thing to this guy at a fire.” He points at our little flame and smirks. “What is it with fires and me getting all chatty?”

  “Don’t stop,” I say softly. “What happened?”

  “He said something that changed everything. I wish I could find him—I’ve looked, believe me—but he said … ‘It goes both ways. You don’t just reap the bad; you reap the good, too. In fact, just a little good goes a long way. Look at all the fruit that comes from one tiny seed.’” He looks away, embarrassed. “I know that isn’t the biggest revelation or anything, but for me right then, it hit me so hard. It clicked. I got it.” He shrugs. “I realized if I wanted to make a difference in anyone’s life, or be any different than my dad was, I had to break the downward spiral and start investing some…” His voice trails off. “God, I’m such a bag of wind.”

  I finish my bite of marshmallow and shake my head when he offers more. “I’ve had about thirty,” I groan. “And you’re not a bag of wind. At all. I’d think you were a real live angel if you didn’t have marshmallow on your cheek.”

  I point to it and he makes a face, going over to the sink and splashing water on his cheek.

  “I’m no angel, trust me,” he says.

  A couple nights later I nearly hyperventilate when someone knocks on the door. Soti has hardly left my side. Last night we talked until I started falling asleep, and he’s popped in throughout the day to check on me. I tiptoe to the door and don’t know what to do. There’s no peephole.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  “It’s Miss Jez. I got some supper,” she says in a low voice.

  I laugh at the thought of her trying to be sneaky.

  I unlock the door and crack it open. The biggest grin I’ve ever seen greets me. I move out of the way as she comes in, talking non-stop.

  “I can’t tell you how glad I was to have you back in this place. Soti looked ‘bout ready to squall when you left. I been dyin’ to get to know you.” She leans in. “Did you know I live catty-womperjawed from Soti?”

  I freeze when she seems to expect me to answer that question.

  “Right over there.” She points behind her. “You jes’ holla if you need a thing.” Her eyes widen. “You hear me? If you need a thing.”

  She doesn’t seem to need my response, but I say yes anyway.

  “I made chicken and dumplins tonight. It ’bout got all ate up. They’s a hungry crowd out there tonight.”

  She sets the food out on Soti’s table, pointing at a drawer. “This is all for you. I done eat already. Fatter’n a tick,” she mutters under her breath. “You probly know your way ‘round here already, but silverware is right there. Grab you a fork and knife. You’ll need it for the biscuits.” Her eyes twinkle as she holds up the pecan pie. “I made this for you. I hope you like pecan pie.”

  I smile. “I love pecan pie. Thank you.”

  “Good. I do like a girl who can eat.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Now, tell me, child, you here to stay?”

  I clear my throat and pull my hair forward on my shoulder, gripping the ends into a thick clump. “I’m … not really sure.”

  Miss Jez’s face falls a bit. She sniffs and seems to snap out of it. “Aw, you’ll like it here, you’ll see. I’m telling Soti all the time that he needs ta get out more and make new friends.” She leans in and whispers. “He hasn’t had a date in I don’t know when. That boy’s gone lose his mind, he don’t get a woman.” She eyes me, grinning. “You mighty pretty. What do you think of my Soti?”

  I press my lips together, trying not to laugh. She looks offended.

  “No, no.” I hold my hand up. “He’s wonderful. The nicest guy I’ve ever met,” I tell her. “He really is.”

  Miss Jez beams. “Yes, he is.” She winks. “He ain’t hard on the eyes neither. Shoo-wee. That boy is a looker. Someone gone snatch him up!” She laughs, leans down, and slaps her knee. When she comes back up, she sobers and stares at me again. “Y’all sho would make some pretty babies.”

  I feel the flush go up my neck and across my face, which makes Miss Jez laugh harder.

  “Oh now I done embarrassed ya. Don’t let this mouth scare you off!” Her shoulders shake.

  I can’t help but laugh, too.

  Soti walks in and seems thrilled to see us together. He’s sweaty and slightly out of breath. I want to take his shirt off and explore. At that thought I flush again and feel the need to run.

  I cannot entertain the thought of being with Soti Christos. I might have decided to trust him with some things, but I know I can’t ever fully let my guard down with him. He’s dangerous to me in an entirely different way than any other man I’ve known.

  I like him. That’s dangerous.

  Someone like me could never, ever deserve someone like him, no matter how pretty Miss Jez thinks our babies would be. Besides, I don’t do feelings. Nico is the closest I’ve come to that, and that isn’t working out so well for me.

  “Shoo, you stink,” Miss Jez says. “Go get you a showah and then you can eat with Lili.”

  She’s calling me Lili too. It makes my skin warm in the best way.

  “Sorry,” he laughs, “I’ll be quick.”

  A few minutes before he comes out, Miss Jez puts Soti’s food in the microwave and then mine.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “Now if you’re still hungry, come on over to my place,” she says. “These boys survive on cereal ’round here, and that ain’t no way to take care of you.”

  My heart swells at her attention.

  “Thank you,” I whisper again.

  Soti walks in, wet hair going everywhere and smelling like soap. I try to subtly sniff in his scent, to commit it to memory. I haven’t fully given in to the thought of staying long-term like they’re hoping—I’ve already stayed longer than I intended—but Soti is so easy to be around. And Miss Jez is hilarious. It’s nice to be with good people.

  Miss Jez squeezes us both and leaves before we know what’s happening.

  “She took off in a hurry,” he says.

  We sit down at the table and look at the spread she laid out.

  “She’s wonderful,” I say.

  His eyes smile at me. I have a hard time not smiling back. We dig into the food, and I can’t shovel it in fast enough.

  “This is the best food I’ve ever tasted.” I finish the dumplings and take a long swig of sweet tea.

  “I’m lucky to have her in my life
,” Soti says. “She’s one of a kind.”

  I pause mid-bite of the most delicious pecan pie I’ve ever eaten.

  “What?” he asks.

  I set my fork down. “You’re really unusual, you know that?”

  He’s taken a bite that is at least half the slice, so it takes him a minute to respond. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re kind.”

  He chuckles. “That’s not so unusual.”

  “You don’t live in my world then, or you’d know that it is. You’re also selfless. Men are not selfless.”

  He sets his fork down. “I’m plenty selfish, but … thank you.”

  “See? I should be thanking you, and you’re the one thanking me.” I smile and try to swallow my embarrassment.

  We finish eating and I stand up to clear the table. He carries the dishes to the sink with me.

  “I’ve got this.” I place our dishes in the dishwasher.

  He bumps me away from the sink with his hip.

  “Let me,” he says.

  I start to protest and he waves me out of the tiny kitchen.

  “Relax,” he says. “It’s not much.”

  So I sit on one of the bar stools and watch him work. He looks enormous in the small space. His muscles flex as he rinses the silverware before putting it in the dishwasher. There’s very little mess, so he finishes everything quickly. It’s disappointing. I liked having an excuse to watch him.

  “Are you comfortable? We can move to the living room…”

  I move to the couch and he sits in the chair across from me.

  “You act like you’re afraid I’m gonna jump you,” I say, testing the waters. Something tells me he’d never make a move unless I did.

  “Maybe it’s the opposite,” he says.

  A trail of sweat runs down my back. I wonder if his air conditioning isn’t working right.

  “You okay?” he asks.

  “I can typically tell what a man … or woman … is like within fifteen minutes with them. It’s part of why I have the most repeat customers. My mom always says I have discernment and to use it wisely.” I laugh at how that must sound to him. An assessing whore. “I can’t say I’ve always used it wisely, but … at least I’m not oblivious when I’m being stupid. You—it’s like you don’t have a single egotistical cell in your body. Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you really as … pure as you seem? Except for the fact that I think maybe you cuss like a sailor … in some other language,” I add.