Page 49 of Wanted
With Valentine’s Day approaching, business was once again booming. International guests were ready to return to our shores for an unforgettable weekend of debauchery in one of our Hole Stores. Nothing screamed romance more than the working girls with their mouths open for your husband’s cock. Rich westerners, go figure.
“The research vessels have left our waters,” Travis told me. He exhaled. “Aram has communicated with Spencer, and we’ll be sending in another crew, seismologists instead of exploration geologists.”
“Seismologists? What is that?” I asked, distracted by the fly behind him. How had it come in here? There were no open windows…
“Did you really ask me that question? Do the words tectonic plates mean anything to you?” Travis rolled his eyes when I shook my head.
“I’m better with numbers. Geography was never my thing,” I said.
“It’s about earthquakes. Every other year, there’s an earthquake. We need researchers to study the situation to prepare ourselves if a big one hits us. The palace has the most up to date protective measures, but the rest of the population is hanging by a thin thread.”
“We never suffer a lot of damages…”
“Sometimes, I think you hate your job. Anyway. The make-believe whorehouse downtown wants to expand,” Travis informed me, and his patience swindled. I spent more time in my palace office these days than anywhere else. I slept in my sister’s house after having been kicked out of my own. I hadn’t made amends with my brother. I rarely saw him anymore. Aram had us work in different units. We were both fighting for the throne in his eyes. If we saw each other as enemies, we’d destroy one another like he and his brother had done. “They want a beach club on the East and South Side. They say foreigners like the concept a lot.”
“There’s no fun in a fake whore,” I commented, bored out of my mind with the bullshit job I had. I sat back on my desk chair, my gaze falling over Katantia. My office was right underneath my father’s. He wanted me to succeed. That was what he always claimed, but he had a funny way of showing it.
If you leave, you’ll return in a casket.
“Foreigners find comfort in a fake whore. Real ones make it a sad affair for the wife. If the wife pretends to be the whore, the less kinky husbands don’t have to feel so ashamed,” Travis explained. He had a tablet in his hands, scrolling through the emails of the day. The man had always worked closely with my father, and now, he was my wingman. I didn’t want him here. I’d told my father often enough. He didn’t listen, of course. Instead, he assigned Travis as my new assistant and advisor.
Now, I had to face my mother’s murderer every day, and I could do nothing about it.
“We sell real whores. If the foreigners are too pussy to deal with that reality, they should fuck off,” I snapped. My phone rang. I ignored it. I was too busy being pissed off at Travis to pick up the phone right now.
“Your father won’t like that attitude. We need all the foreign tourism we can get,” Travis warned me.
“My father can go fuck himself.” I added, “You, too, by the way.”
“I know. You remind me every day.”
Travis wasn’t afraid of me. The only man he feared roamed around comfortably upstairs, fucking whores and Travis’ wife. My mother’s murderer wasn’t easily intimidated.
“Approve of everything you think will get us more cash, all right? I could give a fuck less right now,” I responded, losing my patience.
“Do you want me to leave so that you can brood some more on your own time?” Travis asked.
“If you’d be so kind, yes.”
Everything you have, son, I can take it away from you. I made you. I made all of you. You exist because I allow it. You’d be nothing without my name or my power. Show gratitude to your father. I made it all possible. If you step outside of my country, there’ll be a debt to pay, and you’ll pay it with your burned bones. No, I don’t need you, son. I have my Kamila. I have your pathetic Mandy. They’re out there. If you leave and I get my hands on them, there’ll be no holds barred.
“Well, I’m not kind. I think you’ve used a different set of words to describe me in the past.”
“Indeed.”
“If you want my advice, which you don’t, and I understand that, I’d suggest that you stop moping around in here and start taking action,” Travis advised me. “You won’t find solutions here. Kamila owned the people of this country. She was loved… She’s still loved by them. You need to go out there and become one with them.”
“I don’t want to. I want Kamila and Mandy to be safe,” I retorted.
“You’ve never had to work a day in your life,” Travis uttered, turning off the tablet on his lap. I rolled my eyes. “You had everything served to you on a silver platter. You’re an ungrateful dick—a spoiled one. You never suffered. You never had to want for one thing in your life.”
I opened my mouth, but he went on, “Don’t bring up your mother. That’s not what I’m talking about right now. You’re not the first man with dead parents, Weston. You sit here in your lush office, and you look at me as if you want to reach over your desk and kill me. Guess what, son? You’d be dead the moment your fingertip touches my skin. You have no discipline. You know no authority, and you certainly have no loyalty.”
“What are you trying to say?” I asked, trying to keep a straight face.
“Your sister had much bigger balls than you’ll ever have. Every day, she risked her life. She danced with the devil. She went out there, and she got to know her subjects. She also did as the king pleased. She took risks. She knew exactly what to sacrifice so that she’d get the desired outcome. You have no concept of such a struggle,” Travis preached. His eyes glimmered with disgust and hatred. “You will never succeed. Your father has failed you. Out of all of his offspring, you’re the biggest letdown. Aris is growing into his role as a husband and future father. Kamila is… She’s out there somewhere, fighting for her life. While you’re here, bitching around and complaining that things aren’t going your way.”
“You’re not my father,” I spat at him. “You can save yourself the lecture.”
